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 I 
 
 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN VANNIN 
 
 OR, 
 
 FOLK-TALES OF THE ISLE OF MAN.
 
 ^ » ' # 
 
 SHADOWLAND 
 
 IN 
 
 ELLAN VANN I N; 
 
 OR, 
 
 jfolF? Uales ot tbe 55le of /llban* 
 
 I. H. LENEY 
 
 (MRS. J. W. RUSSELL). 
 
 LONDON : 
 ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1890.
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD . - - . i 
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE - - 55 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD ; OR, CUR SHEN SHA IN 
 
 GILLEY CLASH - - - - - I03 
 
 THE PHYNODDEREE, OR GOOD-NATURED FAIRY - 1 33 
 CONCLUDING CHAPTER OF SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN 
 
 VANNIN ------ j^^ 

 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 As folk-lore has for so long been thought worthy to 
 hold a prominent position in our literature, it is sur- 
 prising no patriotic Manxman has come forward to 
 preserve the many weird and fanciful histories, fairy 
 legends, and tales, with which his native isle 
 abounds. 
 
 Certainly this island, with its lovely scenery, its 
 hills and secluded glens, its rocky coast, intersected 
 here and there with deep and picturesque caverns, 
 gives suitable locale for fairies, elves, and water-sprites, 
 both malignant and benign. Whilst the sonorous 
 roar of the waves, as they beat against the shore in 
 the drear winter time ; the soft sighing of the summer 
 breeze, that might be the faint echo of the mer- 
 maid's song, well combine to tempt the imagination 
 to stray into the regions of fancy, and to bring
 
 viii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to mind some of the strange and often poetic 
 ideas of former years, when it was held there was 
 so intimate a connection between nature and the 
 human race that portents of good or ill might be 
 drawn from every passing change in earth and air and 
 sky, and even the simple wayside flowers had their 
 tale to tell. 
 
 A few of the folk-tales of this interesting isle I have 
 put together in this volume, but have not, except in 
 the concluding chapter, followed the example of some 
 writers on, or compilers of, folk-lore, who give in 
 bare detail what they have to relate. I have en- 
 deavoured to introduce the superstitious beliefs and 
 observances that have existed, or do still exist, in 
 the island, clothed in the embellishment of a story, 
 and introducing, therefore, persons and scenes both 
 imaginary and drawn from the life, hoping by this 
 means to bring before the reader not only their tradi- 
 tions, but also the Manx people themselves — their 
 home-life, character, habits, and surroundings. Neither 
 have I undertaken the labour of comparing any of 
 these folk-tales with those of other countries. This 
 subject has been exhaustively gone into by so many 
 well-known and clever writers, who not only point 
 out the similarities to be found in the legendary lore
 
 INTRODUCTION. ix 
 
 of various peoples, but in many cases trace, or pro- 
 fess to trace, these legends to their fountain-head. 
 The tales in connection with Peel Castle and Castle 
 Rushen, as they are already in print, and to be found 
 in every Isle of Man guide-book, I have not repro- 
 duced in the present volume, which I now venture to 
 launch forth on the wide sea of literature, knowing 
 that it will drift to a friendly shore, where the adverse 
 winds of criticism will touch it but gently ; for years of 
 experience have shown me not only how beautiful 
 and full of interest is the little Isle of Elian Vannin, 
 but also how kind and true are the Manx people, 
 amongst whom I am proud to number many of my 
 
 best and dearest friends. 
 
 I. H. Leney. 
 
 Ramsey.
 
 OFF MA UGH OLD HEAD.
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Hibernia-- Eccentric landlady — Cecil Morton meets the 
 Parkers — Mr. Parker senior's strange tale of * second sight ' 
 — A ghostly female. 
 
 I WAS tempted in September, 183- to take a trip from 
 Whitehaven in a fishing vessel crossing to the Isle of 
 Man. I had often heard of it as remarkable for the 
 salubrity of its climate, beautiful land and sea views, 
 good fishing ; and what concerned me more, as I was 
 something of an antiquarian, that it had some very 
 interesting Druidical remains. 
 
 We landed at Ramsey, where I decided to settle 
 for a week or so. I got comfortable lodgings in a 
 house near the shore. I went off each day on long 
 excursions, sometimes with sketching materials, but 
 more often with my rod and fishing-tackle, getting 
 back at night usually pretty well tired. 
 
 One of these days, whilst fishing at a place called 
 Ballaglass, I was caught in so severe a thunderstorm, 
 followed by such deluging rain, that I had to seek
 
 4 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 shelter at an inn that, luckily for me, was just at the 
 entrance to the glen. As the rain continued, and the 
 now leaden-looking sky seemed to portend a storm of 
 no ordinary violence, I made up my mind, if they 
 could accom.modate me, to remain for the night where 
 I was. The landlady w^as very civil, but at once told 
 me that, though she could provide me with a bed, 
 the private sitting-room I had asked for was out of 
 the question. When I further inquired about the 
 possibihties of dinner, her voice assumed the loud 
 key, and her face the expression of intense surprise. 
 
 ' Is it dinner yer askin' for this time ? Why, it's 
 jus' four ! Lord bless the lad ! It's tea or supper 
 yer meanin', surely ?' 
 
 ' Well, call it whatever you like, my good woman, 
 but give me something to eat.' 
 
 ' Won't bread an' cheese an' a good glass of beer 
 serve ye ?' she asked, glancing at me out of the 
 corner of her keen, rather deep-set eyes. 
 
 She was an odd figure, certainly, dressed in a blue 
 petticoat of some sort of cloth or flannel, surmounted 
 by a man's pilot-jacket, a good deal too long in the 
 sleeves ; to obviate ihe inconvenience this would have 
 caused the cuffs were turned back, displaying a pair 
 of large muscular-looking hands and wrists, quite out 
 of proportion to her size, as she was considerably 
 below the middle height. 
 
 ' Well, w^on't that do for ye ?' for I did not imme- 
 diately reply.
 
 OFF MA UG HOLD HEAD. 5 
 
 ' I must make bread and cheese do if you can give 
 me nothing else.' 
 
 ' Well, I'll give ye a fresh-laid egg or two. Ye'll not 
 starve, never fear ; and mebbe ye'll have some fish in 
 yer basket, an' them and a drop of good whisky to 
 tinish with, an' keep out the could, that'll do for ye, 
 it's like ? but it's here ye'll have to take it, there's 
 nowhere else for ye.' 
 
 We wTre in the kitchen all this time ; I was stand- 
 ing before the fire trying to dry my steaming clothes. 
 There was nothing to be said against it, a comfortable 
 enough little room, except that at present some three 
 or four countrymen, farmers apparently, were seated 
 there, smoking vile tobacco, drinking, and having a 
 noisy discussion as to the prices some cattle had 
 fetched at a recent fair. I certainly would have 
 wished more agreeable accompaniments to my meal, 
 than the uproar and nasty odours of blended smoke 
 and beer. 
 
 ' Is there no other room I can go to ?' I asked ; 
 and just as my hostess was about to reply in the 
 negative, a gentleman, who had entered a moment or 
 two before, and, like myself, was drying himself at the 
 blazing hearth, turned round and said to me with a 
 good deal of courtesy : 
 
 ' If you will join my father and me in the next 
 room we shall be very happy. I see,' glancing at my 
 wet things, ' that, like myself, you have been caught 
 in this heavy storm ; but you seem to have been
 
 6 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 further from shelter than I, to judge from the com- 
 parative moisture of our garments.' 
 
 I looked down at my muddy boots and damp things, 
 and, thanking him, muttered something to the effect 
 that I ' was not very presentable.' Here the landlady 
 interposed : 
 
 ' Oh, is that all that's doin' on ye ; I'll soon have ye 
 dry an' tidy. Here, ye can do yer hair — it's all through- 
 others — with this ready in' comb,' handing me the 
 remnants of one from a table near. ' An' now sit 
 down, and take off yer boots ; we'll soon get them 
 dried, and cleaned, too.' 
 
 I sat down to comply, my new acquaintance looking 
 on with an amused smile. 
 
 ' Then I may expect you in about half an houx^ ?' he 
 asked. 
 
 I again thanked him, and accepted, while the queer 
 old woman attending me cried after him as he was 
 leaving the kitchen : 
 
 ' He'll be at ye directly ;' then turning to me, she 
 said : ' Ye'll be from the other side of the water, I'm 
 thinkin' ?' 
 
 I replied in the affirmative. 
 
 ' From Liverpool, mebbe ?' 
 
 ' No,' I said ; but seeing the poor old soul was full 
 of curiosity, and feehng that I owed her some con- 
 sideration for all the good offices she was performing 
 for me, I proceeded further to tell her, ' I crossed 
 from Whitehaven here, and I belong to London.'
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 7 
 
 ' Lunnon ! why, that's a terrible long way off ! 
 There was a person here last summer — he was over 
 about the mines, an' stayin' in Ramsey ; but he was 
 in here times sittin', an' he was sayin' he come from 
 Lunnon. It's like ye'U know him, when yer from the 
 same place? His name was Smith.' 
 
 When I told her I had not the pleasure of Mr. 
 Smith's acquaintance — 
 
 'Well, that's quare now, an' ye both livin' in the 
 one town.' 
 
 At last, after a good wash in the bedroom I was to 
 occupy for the night, and having been duly inspected 
 by my odd landlady, who said, with an approving nod, 
 ' Ye'll do,' I in turn asked a few questions as to her 
 'parlour company,' as she designated the gentlemen 
 of whose hospitality I was about to avail myself. 
 
 She was not very warm in her commendations. 
 
 ' The father's quare,' she said, touching her fore- 
 head in a significant manner ; ' the other's middlin'. 
 He goes about with th' ould man everywhere, an' 
 they don't give much throuble, an' pay reg'lar — oh, I've 
 no fault with them at all, at all ! It seems he was 
 here years ago when he was a young falla, an' he 
 stopped in this very house, an' nothin' else '11 serve 
 him but stop here agen, he will. I've nothing agin 
 them. Ta chengey ni host ny share na oik y ghra,"*^ 
 ye know. Parker their name is, an' it appears the 
 
 * The translation, which I give below, I learned later on : 
 ' The silent tongue is better than evil speaking.'
 
 8 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN, 
 
 ould man's mother was a Manx woman. Cowen her 
 name was, but there's Cowens an' Cowens, an' w^hich 
 of them his mother belongs to beats me. I'm thinkin' 
 he does not know himself. On he's quare — quare 
 enough.' 
 
 I found Mr. Parker and his son awaiting me. The 
 former was a dignified, intellectual-looking man, with 
 something sad in his expression, and that far-away look 
 in the eyes that one sees sometimes with those who 
 have passed through sorrow. His hair was snow- 
 white, but he appeared hale and strong for his age, 
 which he told me later in the evening was seventy- 
 nine. The son was an unusually handsome man, of, 
 I should have judged, forty-five or thereabouts. 
 They introduced themselves to me as John and 
 George Parker, coal merchants, residing a few miles 
 out of Whitehaven, and I then handed them my card. 
 The old gentleman started as he read it. 
 
 ' Cecil Morton !' he cried, in accents expressive of 
 the greatest surprise ; ' Cecil Morton ! why, how 
 strange — how very strange ! I formed a devoted 
 schoolboy friendship with a Cecil Morton w^hich 
 lasted till he died, or met his end, I should say, in a 
 most mysterious manner, in this very Island of Man. 
 I still think of him with all the warmth of my early 
 affection. He was some years my junior. He would 
 be now, if living, about seventy-four or five, I should 
 say. Could he have been any relation of yours, I 
 wonder ?'
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 9 
 
 ' He must have been my uncle, my father's half- 
 brother, after whom I was named. I have heard my 
 mother say he was drowned ; that he was supposed 
 to have fallen off some rocks into the sea. This 
 happened when my father was still a boy. I did not 
 remember though that the scene of the disaster was in 
 the Isle of Man. My parents both died vs-hen I was 
 a mere child. Of my father I have only a dim recol- 
 lection.' 
 
 ' Then you are the son of the little brother Fred, of 
 whom my friend used to speak with so much affection. 
 Who can say life is prosaic — without incident — when 
 such things as this occur ?' 
 
 It certainly was a most extraordinary coincidence, 
 and at once established us all on a more friendly 
 footing than would probably have been arr-'ved at in 
 many days in the ordinary course of acquaintance- 
 ship. 
 
 'You have no resemblance to your uncle,' remarked 
 Mr. Parker. ' He was of a good medium height ; you 
 are, I should think, quite six feet high, and broad in 
 proportion, whilst he was slightly formed — with pale- 
 blue eyes and fair hair, while your eyes and hair are 
 dark. In fact, my dear boy, you are what would 
 be considered a very handsome man, whereas your 
 poor uncle and namesake was only passably well- 
 looking.' 
 
 Though I had arrived at the dignity of twenty-five 
 years, I could not help feeling a little awkward at the
 
 lo SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 old gentleman's close scrutiny and broad compliments ; 
 and his son, seeing my embarrassment, came to the 
 rescue, saying : 
 
 'Well, father, we will now, I think, get something 
 to eat, and after that I dare say Mr. Morton will be 
 glad to hear anything you can tell him about his 
 uncle.' 
 
 'Ah, well! Yes. It is even still a painful subject 
 to me. He was murdered, and I was given warning 
 of his fate in a most mysterious way by what is called 
 " second sight." If only I had not allowed myself to 
 be laughed out of regarding this warning, you might 
 have had your uncle now, and I my friend all these 
 years !' 
 
 Murdered ! This was decidedly ghostly and chill- 
 ing ; but what can interfere with the healthy appetite 
 of five-and-twenty years, a clear conscience, and a 
 hardy constitution. I did ample justice to the good 
 things provided by I\Irs. Rachel Looney, as I found 
 our hostess was named, and we all wound up with 
 some of her home-brewed whisky. Mr. Parker junior, 
 whose lively chat acted as a capital antidote to his 
 father's melancholy reminiscences, I found a most 
 agreeable man, and I should gladly have excused what 
 I felt sure from the preface was going to be some ghastly 
 history of my unknown uncle's fate ; in fact, I should 
 have preferred its being buried in oblivion as far as I 
 was concerned. However, the room was well lighted 
 and cheery, the cigars of mine host excellent, as might
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. ii 
 
 also be said of Mrs. Rachel's home-brewed, so, under 
 the ameliorating circumstances of my comfortable 
 surroundings, I prepared for the worst. Certainly, we 
 had in the howlings of the storm, with occasional vivid 
 flashes of lightning, a suitable accompaniment for the 
 weirdest of ghost stories or of second sight ; and the 
 old man, with his deep voice and melancholy, im- 
 pressive manner, gave great dramatic effect to the 
 recital. 
 
 ' You, of course, are not aware,' he began, ' that my 
 mother was a Manx woman.' 
 
 I did not think it necessary to tell him that I was 
 already informed on this subject, but let him proceed 
 uninterrupted : 
 
 ' My father was English — a Liverpool man, captain 
 of a merchant vessel trading to South x\merica. I 
 was the only child, and, by my mother's wish, was 
 
 sent for education to Mr. 's school, in Douglas 
 
 — going home for my Christmas holidays ; the Mid- 
 summer ones I spent with my grandmother at Maug- 
 hold. I had been- about two years at this school, 
 when a new boarder, a delicate, timid boy, came from 
 London. Some of the lads, who, I must say, were 
 bullies, took advantage of his gentle disposition, and 
 he would have been very badly used sometimes if I 
 had not constituted myself his champion. There is 
 no need now to enter into the whys and the where- 
 fores of my having sufficient influence to befriend him, 
 or give details of our lives during those school-days,
 
 12 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 or trace the growth and steadiness of our friendship. 
 It is all so far back it could not possibly have any 
 interest for you. I shall, therefore, at once come to 
 the time when Cecil and I, men of twenty-eight and 
 twenty-three respectively, again visited the island. 
 We put up at this very inn. I w^as not then blessed 
 with too much of this w^orld's goods. Your uncle was 
 rich, and very careless in letting it be seen how^ well 
 he was provided with money, and also in carrying 
 rather large sums about on his person. He was some- 
 thing of a naturalist, and used to go rambling over the 
 country hunting up specimens of insects, birds, and 
 so on. I took no interest in these pursuits, and could 
 not alw^ays accompany him, as my grandmother was 
 very ill with w^hat, in fact, proved to be her last illness. 
 I used to have to spend a great part of my time 
 attending to her, as she liked having me with her. 
 She lodged with some kindly people at Maughold, and 
 had no near relatives living — my mother, who w^as her 
 last surviving child, had died two years before. You 
 will say this is irrelevant, but I only go into these 
 details to let you know why I did not always accom- 
 pany my friend on his expeditions. One night I had 
 been kept very late with my grandmother. It was 
 getting on for midnight when I prepared to take the 
 road from Maughold to the inn here. It was a fine 
 October night, the moon shining brightly, so I did 
 not mind the w^alk. 
 
 ' " Cecil will be uneasy," I thought, as I started,
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 13 
 
 " at my being so late, though probably he will conjec- 
 ture the cause." 
 
 ' I walked on briskly till I arrived at a place where, 
 on my left, lay a small bay, between two bold head- 
 lands, I paused a moment, arrested by the beauty of 
 the scene. The sea stretched far beyond, glittering in 
 the clear rays shed by the Queen of Night, calm and 
 peaceful as far as eye could reach, except where, here 
 and there, it came swirling up in white spray against 
 some jagged, dark-looking rocks that impeded its 
 progress to the shore. As I gazed I was suddenly 
 startled by hearing just behind me the sound of a 
 heavy sigh, and, turning, I beheld the figure of a 
 woman, clothed in long clinging black garments. Her 
 face was invisible, as over it she had some covering, 
 semi-transparent, but too thick for my eyes to pene- 
 trate in the uncertain light. I was so taken by surprise 
 that for a moment I did nothing but stare at the strange 
 apparition. She looked, to use a Scotch phrase, "so 
 uncanny," at that hour, and in that solitary place. 
 
 ' " A beautiful night," I took courage to remark, 
 though, I must confess, in a rather quavering voice. 
 
 ' For all reply she turned to me for a second, and, 
 giving a moan so heart-broken, so unearthly, I 
 shuddered to hear, then, wringing her hands, she 
 glided rapidly away towards the sea, and I presently 
 saw her ascending — it could not be called climbing — a 
 high rock that jutted far out into the water and 
 adjoined the nearest headland.
 
 14 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 '"She is going to drown herself, poor wretched 
 creature !" I exclaimed. 
 
 ' I at once dashed after her, dreading lest I should 
 not be in time to prevent this self-murder. I scaled 
 as rapidly as I could the slippery rocks beneath those 
 on which she was standing, her tall, dark-robed figure 
 showing in bold relief against the bright shimmering 
 water, but looking more like part of the eminence on 
 which she stood than a living human being. 
 
 ' " If she sees me," I thought, " she may hasten 
 matters, and throw herself down before I can get to 
 her." 
 
 ' After many falls and numberless cuts and bruises, 
 I reached a more secure foothold. To my surprise 
 and rehef, the woman, just as I arrived here, turned, 
 and, with the same gliding motion that she had 
 ascended to it, came down from her elevated position, 
 passed beneath where I stood, disappeared for a few 
 seconds under the shadow of the rising ground, and, 
 in less time than I can take to relate it, was far above 
 me on the headland, and making, with extraordinary 
 rapidity, for the precipitous cliffs leading to ]\Iaughold 
 Head. Some strong impulse — curiosity, or anxiety to 
 prevent suicide — but what feeling I cannot define, 
 impelled me to follow and see the end of this strange 
 adventure. On in front I could still discern the lithe 
 figure threading her way from one steep point to 
 another. Once or twice she paused in her dangerous 
 progress, and looked back, as if to ascertain whether I
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 15 
 
 was following, and at last, to my intense dismay, she 
 suddenly disappeared, whilst a shriek so awful as, even 
 after this interval of years, makes me shudder as I 
 recall it, rang out upon the silence of the night. I 
 rushed madly forward, and prepared to make as rapid 
 a descent as was possible of the steep decline from 
 which I concluded the unfortunate creature had thrown 
 herself, when I was arrested and, as it were, held spell- 
 bound by strains of the most exquisite music, that 
 seemed coming in softest breathings from hills, and 
 sea, and shore, as though many different instruments 
 were blended into harmony by the gently moving air 
 around ; and then, clear and sweet above all, sung, as 
 it were, in childish treble, sounded the words : 
 
 ' '* Stranger, stranger, come not near ; 
 Court not death ; descend not here." 
 
 I stood immovable — fear lost in astonishment and 
 the delight of listening to such sounds ; but as they 
 got fainter and fainter, and at last ceased, borne away 
 on the soft breezes that had played about me, I awoke 
 to the consciousness that I was on haunted ground ; 
 and with this consciousness came a feeling of terror, 
 that, though I longed to fly, yet, as in some dreadful 
 nightmare, my feet seemed rooted to the spot, and I 
 was compelled to be a horror-struck spectator of a 
 
 scene to me so heartrending, so awful ' 
 
 Mr. Parker paused, seemingly overcome by merely 
 recalling it all ; and only that I was doubtful how it
 
 1 6 SHADOW LAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 might be received, I would have suggested his giving 
 up, or, at all events, postponing the narration of what 
 was evidently so painful to him. I glanced at Parker 
 junior, hoping he might propose a respite : but he was 
 absorbed apparently in the enjoyment of his cigar and 
 his own thoughts, and either quite indifferent on the 
 subject, or unobservant of his father's state of agita- 
 tion and my boredom. 
 
 I looked upon the whole thing — the mysterious 
 warning, music, haunted ground, ghostly female — as 
 the mere outcome of a diseased or over-excited brain, 
 and decided that Mrs. Looney had good grounds for 
 her assertion that ' th' ould man was quare I'
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Mr. Parker's horrible vision of his friend's murder. 
 
 After awhile Mr. Parker had very much recovered 
 himself, and in a calmer voice continued his recital : 
 
 ' I told you that I saw all that I have related to 
 you so far in the clear light of a very bright moon ; 
 for the sky was unobscured, except where here and 
 there clouds that looked more like snow-wreaths than 
 anything else floated in the ambient air. But scarcely 
 had the echo of that dreadful scream been stilled, 
 when stealing along the waters from the far horizon 
 spread a gray, cold mist, and with it came the dull, 
 moaning sound of rising wind ; whilst white-winged 
 sea-mews flew with frightened cries towards land. 
 The water beat with low, angry sound against the 
 rocks beneath, and still this threatening rain-cloud 
 widened and rolled on, darker and denser each 
 moment, till all was enveloped in its chilly folds. 
 The landscape, the shore and cliffs beneath, the very 
 ground on which I stood, was hidden from my sight. 
 I trembled as it crept round me — my eyeballs ached, 
 my pulses throbbed, my breath came short, and, in 
 
 2
 
 i8 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 gasps in the ice-cold air, I cursed my folly for ven- 
 turing on such dangerous heights ; whilst all the many 
 tales with which my grandmother used to regale my 
 childish ears — of pixies, fairies, water -sprites, and 
 ghosts — that I had since laughed at as old-world 
 superstitions, forced themselves unpleasantly on my 
 mind ; for I could not for a moment doubt that I was 
 under a weird spell, cast round me by some super- 
 natural agency. But what and by whom was I in- 
 fluenced — for good or for ill ? Was the woman a 
 phantom, sent to lure me to destruction ? Whilst 
 pondering thus, unable to move, and even, if I had 
 not been deprived of any power of volition, to stir 
 from the spot on which I was might have been almost 
 instant death, for I knew that beneath me yawned 
 that fearful precipice — well, as I was about to say, 
 whilst I was shivering with cold, and fear, and dread 
 as to how all this might end, the oppression on my 
 chest seemed gradually to lessen. I breathed more 
 freely ; the tension on brain and muscles relaxed. 
 My eyes, which I had kept closed for some time, I 
 slowly and gradually opened, and great indeed was 
 my astonishment at what now met my view. The 
 dull, gray cloud was fast disappearing, and instead of 
 the moonlight that had first lit up the scene, the 
 whole landscape was being rapidly illuminated in the 
 bright, red glow of an autumn sunset. I can com- 
 pare the whole thing to nothing so well as the transi- 
 tion-scene in a theatre. In my normal state I should,
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 19 
 
 of course, have known that all these sudden meta- 
 morphoses in nature could not by possibility be 
 occurring. But I was under some wonderful mesmeric 
 influence, controlled and acted upon by a will to 
 which my own was for the time completely sub- 
 servient ; and as the dense pall that had veiled every- 
 thing floated away in the distance, tinted by the 
 ruddy glare that tipped the headlands and tinged 
 everywhere it reached with the hue of blood, I 
 seemed to succumb more and more, to be oblivious 
 of time, friends, all sense of danger — in fact, of my 
 very existence. The powers of my mind, my brain, 
 were absorbed in watching the tragedy that was pre- 
 sented to the eyes of my " inner sense." Apropos of 
 that inner sense I allude to, I hope I shall on some 
 future occasion have an opportunity of going more 
 fully into it, and explaining my views on the subject 
 to you.' 
 
 I bowed whilst uttering a polite ' Thank you ; I 
 hope so.' Mentally, I determined, as far as I could 
 prevent it, that opportunity should never occur. 
 
 ' You must remember,' he continued, ' that I 
 believed all I am about to describe to you to be 
 actually happening ; otherwise you could not under- 
 stand the agony I endured. 
 
 ' I shall now proceed, and I trust calmly (it is all 
 so many years ago), with the rest of this strange 
 vision, and what next presented itself to me. Just 
 beneath, as if poised in mid-air — so perpendicular 
 
 2 — 2
 
 I 
 
 20 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 and steep was the cliff, so narrow the path on which 
 he stood — was my friend Cecil Morton carefully 
 threading his way step by step, and holding on now 
 and again to some overhanging branch or bracken. 
 There was nothing in this to make me tremble for 
 his safety. He was from constant habit an expert 
 climber, sure-footed, and had a steady head. He 
 used frequently to scale just such giddy heights, 
 hunting after sea - birds who make their home in 
 almost inaccessible places ; but what turned me cold, 
 and made my heart stand still with sickening dread, 
 was that stealthily and closely following was a man — 
 a fiend in human shape. He carried in his hand 
 some heavy weapon, raised ready to strike the un- 
 conscious Cecil dowm. Had Morton turned and seen 
 his danger, he could not have averted the blow, or 
 saved himself; he could not even have grappled with 
 his foe — any backward movement in the effort to 
 defend himself would have precipitated him on the 
 rocks below. Of the murderous intent of the man 
 there could be no doubt. You can imagine the 
 intensity of my suffering when seeing the peril of my 
 friend, believing all to be real, and yet being quite 
 incapable of rendering help. I could not even raise 
 my voice in w^arning. The blow I dreaded fell ; and, 
 O God ! I live over again the torture of that moment 
 as I stood powerless and saw Cecil's form sway for 
 half a second, and then fall — fall — from that dreadful 
 cliff to the rocky shore beneath. There he lay, stiff
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 21 
 
 and motionless, to all appearance dead. The wretch 
 who had done the deed first looked round in all 
 directions, scanning the heights on which I was 
 standing, but evidently without being made aware of 
 my presence ; for, seemingly satisfied there had been 
 no witness to his awful crime, he cautiously com- 
 menced his descent to where his victim lay — no easy 
 matter, I could see. He clung now and again to a 
 piece of jutting rock or boulder, and often nearly 
 slipped as some of the brittle ground gave way under 
 his weight. Many a time as I watched, a wild hope 
 that I might see him hurled to the bottom sprang up 
 within my mind. He arrives at last at the top of a 
 piece of slaty rock where no foothold can be found. 
 How will he manage now ? For a moment he seems 
 puzzled, and looks round as if in the hope of finding 
 some place more easy to scale ; but everywhere within 
 his reach nothing is to be seen but the same smooth, 
 unbroken, nearly perpendicular surface. He hesitates 
 no longer ; but, straightening his limbs, and holding 
 his arms closely to his sides, he lets himself slide 
 down the declivity, arriving safely on the smooth 
 gravel beneath. After arranging his garments, and 
 removing from them all traces of his rapid descent, 
 he walked (and I, for the first time, perceived he had 
 a slight limp) to where his victim lay, and at once 
 proceeded to discover whether life w^as extinct and 
 his foul purpose accomplished. Having satisfied 
 himself on this point, he began hastily to rifle the
 
 22 SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN V ANN IN. 
 
 body. I could see him convey the watch, purse, and 
 a lot of loose notes and gold from Morton's person to 
 his own. He then walked away round a tiny clump 
 of rocks, and was hidden from my view^ for a short 
 space of time. " He intends," I thought, " hiding the 
 body in some cave, or burying it under the sand and 
 gravel" — a better chance of concealment than if 
 thrown into the sea, where any passing boat might 
 pick up the corpse, ere he would have sufficient time 
 to effect his escape. 
 
 ' The sound of the dip of oars drew my attention 
 to the point where the murderer had been lost to my 
 sight ; the next moment he pulled up into the bay or 
 inlet, and, securing the boat to a wooden pile — one of 
 several — he got on to the beach, and, going over to 
 the side of the murdered man, lifted up the lifeless 
 body, and, throwing it into the bottom of the boat, 
 hastily covered it over with some old sails, and pulled 
 rapidly away from land. 
 
 ' As I followed the movements of the boat, I saw for 
 the first time, pretty far out to sea, a small fishing- 
 lugger. For this the man seemed to be making. " He 
 has an accomplice or accomplices," I decided. I kept 
 my eyes fixed on the fast-receding boat, but I was not 
 destined to see more, for again one of those extra- 
 ordinary changes set in. The unnatural brightness of 
 the horizon was clouded over, the sunlight faded 
 swiftly away into the gray haze of a clouded winter 
 day, and gradually, sweeping so close to the water, as
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 23 
 
 almost to seem a part of its depths, came the same 
 heavy mist. Everything was hidden from me for a 
 brief space ; but as quickly as it had come — as quickly 
 did it disappear. I opened my eyes — which I had 
 for a few moments involuntarily closed — to find my- 
 self on the same spot where I had stopped to admire 
 the beautiful Bay of Corna, and where I had first seen 
 the black-draped woman. How I had made my way 
 back I cannot tell ' 
 
 ' Dreamt it all,' interrupted Mr. George Parker 
 laconically. 
 
 ' Dreamt it !' repeated the old man, in indignant 
 tones ; ' then, how do you account for all that after- 
 wards occurred to confirm the truth of the vision ?' 
 
 * I fancy that, although you were not conscious of it, 
 you often experienced a good deal of anxiety about your 
 friend in his dangerous feats of climbing, and perhaps 
 had an undefined dread he ran risks of being robbed 
 and murdered, carrying, as you were aware, so much 
 money about his person. People's minds are more 
 occupied with, and affected by, outward events, often- 
 times, than they realize themselves. The accidents 
 and circumstances, many of them, of daily life that 
 we may consider trivial, and the ideas produced by 
 them as only evanescent, are yet sufficiently fixed on 
 the brain as to be reproduced in dreams. Besides 
 all this, you had a very fatiguing time with your grand- 
 mother, often losing your proper modicum of sleep, to 
 brace you up for your walk from her place to the inn ;
 
 24 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 you had probably partaken of some glasses of hot 
 toddy, which would possibly induce drowsiness, and, 
 resting to admire the view, you had fallen asleep, and 
 dreamed a most thrilling and remarkable dream. As 
 to all that happened afterwards, as if in confirmation 
 of your vision — look how many strange coincidences 
 occur quite naturally in real life, without any super- 
 natural agency being at work. You, therefore ' 
 
 ' Pray cease ; do not repeat this nonsense, George !' 
 cried his father so angrily that I interposed, to stop 
 what I feared might terminate in an angry discussion, 
 by asking, ' And about the woman, sir ; what of 
 her?' 
 
 ' The woman ! oh ! yes — but I had not nearly 
 told you air (' Good Heavens !' thought I, 'midnight 
 will not see us in bed '), ' when my son thought proper 
 to interrupt me, with his absurd attempts at explain- 
 ing what can ?iever be explained.' 
 
 ' Suppose, then, father,' Mr. George said, smihng 
 good-humouredly, 'we adjourn this meeting for to- 
 night, and get a promise from Mr. Morton that he will 
 breakfast with us to-morrow morning, and join us in 
 the evening at dinner, or supper, as Mrs. Looney 
 insists on calling our six o'clock meal.' 
 
 This kind invitation was gladly accepted by me. I 
 felt very sleepy, and hailed with delight the near 
 prospect of getting to bed, and was heartily glad to 
 say good-night to my hosts and the elder one's 
 ghastly reminiscences.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Mistress Looney's 'Pegasus,' and how she mounted him — More 
 of Mr. Parker's experiences — Mrs. Cowen's death. 
 
 The next morning we were up betimes. Whilst seated 
 at breakfast, the eccentric landlady* put her head in 
 at the door. 
 
 ' I hard ye,' she said, looking at me, ' sayin' las' 
 night that ye'd have to go t' Ramsey to tell the pesson 
 yer lodgin' with that yer safe-t, an' for to get some 
 clothes. I'm goin' to town meself, an' I'll give her 
 yer message, an' fetch back yer bit duds, if ye put a 
 word or two on a bit of paper sayin' what yer wantin' 
 like. It's a fine day for fishin' afther th' rain, not too 
 bright, so you an' Masther George can go yer ways 
 together an' see what'll ye catch. I'll put ye some- 
 thin' to eat in yer basket— an' ye'll be back for supper, 
 for six.' 
 \I thanked the old woman, as I handed her the 
 
 ' v^ntten word or two,' and then inquired if she was 
 \ 
 "^ This odd person is a real character, accurately portrayed 
 
 from description given to the author by people who had known 
 
 her.
 
 26 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 driving, as otherwise the parcel would be too heavy 
 for her. 
 
 ' Ye'll get it right enough — never fear,' she said 
 rather shortly, and left the room. 
 
 'Masther George/ as she called him, bade me 
 turn my attention to the window. I looked out and 
 saw a large raw-boned cart-horse (by its build and 
 the long fetlocks I should judge it so). What did 
 duty for a saddle was a bag or sack thrown across the 
 animal's back, from w^hich straw might be seen stick- 
 ing out here and there, proclaiming the nature of the 
 padding. Presently Mrs. Looney's voice sounded out, 
 loud and shrill, giving parting orders. I then saw her 
 come out, dressed exactly as on the previous day, 
 except that this morning her head was surmounted 
 by a man's hat of rough beaver, instead of the sun- 
 bonnet. She, with the assistance of an uncouth-look- 
 ing stable-boy, briskly mounted her steed, seating 
 herself astride, in manly fashion,* and giving her 
 Pegasus a slight touch with a switch she carried, was 
 soon riding at a fair pace towards Ramsey. 
 
 'Mrs, Looney rarely travels a distance any other 
 way,' said old Mr. Parker, who was amused at my 
 surprise. 
 
 That evening, after a successful day's fishing and 
 an excellent dinner, we got out pipes and cigars and 
 settled ourselves comfortably as on the previous night. 
 
 * It is a fact that the landlady of the Hibernia, about whom 
 the author writes, used to perform journeys in this way.
 
 OFF MA UGHOLD HEAD. 27 
 
 I was fondly hoping I should escape the rest of the 
 old gentleman's unpleasant histories ; but no ! I saw 
 him getting ready, and with a few preliminary ' hems ' 
 and clearing of the voice he began. I had decided I 
 need not hsten, as he talked without pause or ex- 
 pecting any comment on what he was relating ; but, 
 spite of myself, I was carried along with the story, 
 and, probably from being less tired than last night, 
 found myself following with interest the rest of the 
 strange tale : 
 
 'I left off — if my memory serves me right — at 
 where I found myself again standing at the spot where 
 I had paused to look at the Bay of Corna. 
 
 ' I felt bewildered— ill— the horror of all that had 
 been shown me still oppressed me. I was roused by a 
 sudden intense anxiety about my friend. We had 
 parted immediately after breakfast — I to take the 
 cross-road to Maughold village, and he intended 
 starting soon after me for Ramsey, where he would 
 get a sailing-boat and make for the Head, and there, he 
 said, he would put ashore. 
 
 ' " Don't go in for any of your foolhardy climbing," 
 I advised. 
 
 ' "I won't promise that," he responded, as he waved 
 me an adieu. 
 
 ' Remembering all this, after my dreadful vision, a 
 sickening fear seized me, lest some evil had befallen 
 him. I made all possible haste homewards, and who 
 could describe the joy, the thankfulness, I felt when,
 
 28 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 on nearing the inn, I saw Cecil standing at the door, 
 and evidently looking out for me. 
 
 ' " I had just begun to think you were not coming ; 
 but, dear me ! what is the matter ?" he exclaimed, as 
 I drew near enough for him to see my face. " Is the 
 poor granny worse ? or — or " 
 
 '"She is not worse now," I managed to say; but 
 the reaction had proved too much for me, and for the 
 first time in my life I fainted dead away. When I 
 came to, I found I was in this little parlour. Morton 
 had managed to drag me in on to the rug. I was 
 very wet from having had the contents of a large jug 
 of water poured over me, and just escaped a second 
 bath by so opportunely opening my eyes. 
 
 ' " Now, then, drink this brandy and water, and off 
 to bed," said Cecil commandingly. "Not a word !" as 
 I prepared to speak. "Here, up with you! Now 
 take my arm." 
 
 ' I felt too ill to resist ; but before bidding him 
 good-night, I begged he would not go out in the 
 morning without first seeing me. 
 
 ' " Not likely I should do so, my dear Parker, 
 after your wonderful exploit of fainting just now." 
 
 ' As he was quitting my room, he turned round to 
 say : 
 
 ' " I shall put a veto upon such a close attendance 
 upon poor Mrs. Cowen." 
 
 ' The next morning I rose quite well and refreshed, 
 after a good sleep, and was inclined then to take much
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 29 
 
 the same view as my son now does of the warning of 
 the previous night ; and when I at breakfast related 
 the whole thing to Morton, he laughed heartily, and 
 said: 
 
 ' " You probably dreamt it all in a few minutes. 
 Did you know the time when your adventures 
 began, and w^hen they ended ? We might go and 
 look for the ghostly woman's body, supposing she 
 was the happy possessor of such a thing? I must 
 not have anything to do with a boatman with dark, 
 scowling countenance, especially if he limps," etc. 
 
 'Not only had I to endure unlimited "chaff" from 
 Morton, but when later on we both went into Ramsey, 
 he related my " nightmare," as he called it, to several 
 of our acquaintances that we met there : one and all 
 laughed me out of any serious thoughts of my previous 
 night's " supposed adventures." 
 
 ' Ah, me ! but one short week had passed when I 
 viewed it all very differently. 
 
 ' The day I am now going to tell you of Cecil had 
 started with me, after our early breakfast, for Maug- 
 hold, he for the express purpose of looking for some 
 sea-birds, or their eggs — I forget which ; I am, and 
 always have been, an ignoramus about everything 
 connected with natural history — I, of course, was 
 bound for Mrs. Cowen's. 
 
 ' The morning was misty, and a fog seemed sweep- 
 ing from the sea. 
 
 '"You will not, of course, go after birds in such
 
 30 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 hazy weather as this," I asked, as we were parting at 
 my grandmother's door. 
 
 ' " Oh, certainly not !" he replied. " If it does not 
 improve, I shall get Mac to row me into Ramsey, 
 and I can then look up the Moores, and the rest — pay 
 a few calls, in fact : for I won't have much time, as I 
 have to start from here in so few days." 
 
 '"And who is Mac?" 
 
 ' " Mac ! Don't you know him ? — though I believe 
 he told me he is a new-comer. He and his wife 
 live in that little thatched cottage you have to pass 
 every time you come to or from here, just before you 
 turn on to the beach at Corna. He is an Irishman, 
 but married, I understand, to a Manx woman. She 
 looks wretched enough, poor creature ! I feel con- 
 vinced he's a brute to her — not that she would admit 
 it. She's an apt illustration of — you know the 
 proverb : something about a woman, a dog, and a 
 walnut-tree, ' The more you beat 'em, the better they'll 
 be.' I'm sure he follows this advice, for she often has 
 queer marks about the eyes and face, but seem.s 
 devoted to the man. He's got her well in hand." 
 
 ' "And why do you employ such a monster?" 
 
 ' " Simply, my dear fellow, that, besides the wife, he 
 has a boat — the only one to be had on hire in this 
 neighbourhood — and I find it most convenient when- 
 ever I 'take the notion,' as they say here, of being 
 rowed into Ramsey, to get him and the aforesaid boat 
 to take me. Ta-ta !"
 
 OFF M AUG HOLD HEAD. 31 
 
 ' We parted ; and I was never to see him in life 
 again ! 
 
 ' The mist, instead of passing off, seemed to become 
 denser. I remained at the cottage with my poor 
 suffering relative till the afternoon, when I thought it 
 would be time to rejoin my friend, who had said he 
 would be back about six. As I was wending my way 
 to the inn, there came on a sudden darkening of the 
 horizon, which seemed to portend a storm. A dense 
 fog set in, spreading far into shore, and completely 
 hiding the landscape. I knew my way so well, or I 
 should have been rather puzzled how to proceed, so 
 thick did this mist become. I could hear the shrill 
 cry of the sea-gulls, and there was a low, sobbing 
 sound in the faint breeze that was stirring, like coming 
 rain. 
 
 ' I quickened my steps, fearing a drenching ; but 
 after this strange blackness over the heavens a change 
 set in : the mist receded gradually from the land, and 
 at last faded away. By the time I had got to the 
 highroad, and near my destination, a bright red 
 illumined the sky; the clouds, lately so black or leaden 
 gray, were tinged with rosy light. 
 
 'Your uncle, I found, had not returned, but I felt 
 no uneasiness on this account, as I concluded some 
 of his friends in Ramsey had kept him ; so I sat down 
 to the evening meal alone. At last, when ten o'clock 
 struck, I began to feel anxious. I passed another 
 hour, feeling more and more uncomfortable ; and my
 
 32 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 " vision " or " nightmare " came unpleasantly into my 
 thoughts, as it flashed quickly upon me how like had 
 the almost phenomenal changes in the atmosphere of 
 this day been to what I witnessed in my — dream, shall 
 I call it? I could no longer remain inactive. I 
 decided to go into the town, late as it was. I should 
 most probably meet my friend on his return journey. 
 The night was dark, so I borrowed a lantern from the 
 good people at the inn, telling them at the same time 
 where I was going, and that I did not expect to be 
 long, as I should most likely meet Mr. Morton on the 
 way. 
 
 ' On and on I went ; but no Cecil. " I shall find 
 him at the Moores', no doubt, playing whist, or sing- 
 ing duets with Miss Mary ; and for a moment the 
 colour mounted to my face, as I thought what fun that 
 merry girl, assisted by Morton, would niake of me 
 for my needless anxiety — "needless, please God," 
 I whispered, and thought I could well sustain the 
 ridicule, if only my friend was safe. " It is that 
 beastly dream that frightens me, and that only ; 
 there is no real cause for apprehension," I tried to 
 persuade myself. 
 
 ' I went first to the Moores', but found the house in 
 darkness. They were evidently all in bed, so I went 
 on to several of our bachelor friends, whom I found 
 still up. None of them had seen Morton. 
 
 'Wilson, a very good-natured young fellow, who 
 seemed to think I had sufficient grounds for anxiety.
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 33 
 
 suggested that your uncle might, perhaps, be sleeping 
 at the Moores', as neither he or any whom I had met 
 had seen him. I hoped this might be the case, 
 though it was a very forlorn hope, as he had hitherto 
 been particular always to be back in good time at 
 night. After some hesitation I returned to the 
 Moores' — accompanied by Wilson— knocked loudly 
 two or three times to no purpose, but the fourth peal 
 had an effect : an upper window was opened. 
 
 ' " Who's there ? What's the matter ?" cried the 
 voice of the "head of the family." 
 
 ' After due explanation on my part, and apologies 
 also, I was assured by Mr. Moore that Morton had 
 not been at his place that day; or, indeed, in Ramsey 
 at all, he thought. This was very bad news for me ; 
 and though I had pressing invitations from him and 
 other friends to remain the night, I firmly declined. 
 I was all impatience now to get back to the inn, so I 
 retraced my steps, Wilson good - naturedly coming 
 part of the way with me. 
 
 'Arrived at home, I saw a light cart at the door, 
 and my landlord, holding a lantern, peering down the 
 road in the direction in which I was coming. 
 
 ' " Here he is !" he cried, as he spied me. 
 
 ' " Is Mr. Morton back ?" I called out. 
 
 ' " No, sir, he is'n ; but Misthress Cowen is took 
 much worse. It's not thought she'll put through the 
 night ; an' theere's a lad here, with a cart at him, to 
 dhrive ye to Maughold." 
 
 3
 
 34 
 
 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 'What a night of trouble and anxiety this was 
 proving ! And as I sat beside the boy in the shaky 
 vehicle, behind a fat mare, that nothing would either 
 persuade or compel to get beyond an awkward "jog- 
 trot," I had ample time in which to be miserable ; and 
 certainly the opportunity was not lost. Beside the sorrow 
 I was feeling for my dear grandmother, the gloomy 
 night and all combined to fill me with the most 
 anxious and depressing forebodings about my friend. 
 
 ' " Ah, my lad ! my dear boy ! so you're there. I 
 was watching for you," the poor old lady cried as I 
 entered. She had just come out of one of those dis- 
 tressing attacks of almost suffocation that was the 
 hardest to endure, and the most painful symptom to 
 witness of her complaint. How patiently these 
 paroxysms were borne by her, sustained by a strength 
 and submission marvellous to behold ! When I 
 expressed pity, she would say, gently laying her hand 
 on mine : 
 
 ' " My boy, there's a ' needs be,' or it would not 
 be sent me ; and should I not rejoice in that I am 
 partaker of His sufferings?" 
 
 ' " How are you, granny ?" I asked. Alas, I hardly 
 need have done so ! Already the cold dews of death 
 were gathering on her brow. 
 
 ' " My dear lad," and her voice was wonderfully 
 strong, the end so close at hand — "yes, dear boy, I 
 am nearing the ' haven of rest — the haven of rest !' 
 I can almost see the land that is illumined by the
 
 OFF M AUG HOLD HEAD. 35 
 
 rays shed from the Sun of Righteousness — no earth 
 clouds between. Ay, ay ! it will soon be for me 
 'no longer through a glass darkly,' but 'face to face.' 
 I shall ' see my precious Saviour — -face to face P Already 
 'joy unspeakable' fills my soul !" She paused a moment, 
 her countenance radiant with a light that was not of 
 earth. 
 
 Presently she tried to turn towards me. The 
 nurse gently moved the pillow. 
 
 '"Take my hand, vien," she said, "and never 
 forget that, sooner or later, as the Lord wills, you will 
 have to lie, as you see me now, at the point of death. 
 See, dear lad, that you never forget this. You are 
 young still, and the hfe I am leaving behind — the earth 
 life — is still before you, in which you can choose ' the 
 evil or the good.' You will have your share of sorrow 
 and your share of joy, times of anxiety and times of 
 peace ; but never lose faith. Look up to the loving 
 Saviour, always, always, in thankfulness for mercies and 
 blessings bestowed, resignation and perfect trust, when 
 disappointment or trouble visit you, as they will, dear 
 boy, — ay, indeed ! and temptations ; but be strong to 
 resist in the power of His might, for we are told we 
 shall be helped to overcome — that 'there's a way to 
 escape.' I am praying for you, that you may ever 
 follow the guidings of the Holy Spirit." 
 
 ' Again she paused. I stooped and kissed the dear 
 hand I held, my eyes dim with unshed tears. 
 
 '"You're sorry for your granny, dear, and you'll 
 
 3—2
 
 36 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 come in whiles, when you can, and put a flower, may- 
 be, on her grave where she'll be laid, in Maughold 
 Churchyard. There's where your grandfather, too, was 
 buried, as you know. You'll not remember him well. 
 Ah, my dear husband ! my man ! my John ! — you 
 were called after him, John Cowen. Ay, indeed, we 
 put through rough seas together, and sailed o'er 
 smooth, he and I, but we were happy with each other! 
 ay, very ! Times I would fret when things went wrong, 
 and think the rough waves were driving us on to hard, 
 pitiless rocks, to wreck ; and now I can look back and 
 see how all these things that seemed to our blind judg- 
 ment ' contrary winds ' were meant to bring us at last 
 to the shores of the eternal kingdom" 
 
 ' Her voice was gradually getting weaker ; she 
 ceased addressing me, and I could see her lips moving 
 in silent prayer. Again she spoke, but only by bend- 
 ing close could I catch what she said : 
 
 ' "You're here, Johnnie ?" 
 
 ' " Yes, dear granny." 
 
 ' " I can hardly see now ; the eyes of — the earth 
 body — are closing — lad — that the e)^es of the spiritual 
 may — be — for ever opened — when I shall behold — 
 ' the King in His beauty.' The parson's not here, 
 Johnnie ?" 
 
 ' " No, grandmother." 
 
 ' " He was here, though." 
 
 ' " Would you wish for him ? He has only gone 
 a short time. Shall I send for him ?"
 
 OFF MA UG HOLD HEAD. 37 
 
 ' " No— no." 
 
 ' She then lay so still that the nurse, who was at the 
 other side of the bed, and I both thought for a moment 
 that she had passed away. Suddenly her eyes opened, 
 and, gazing beyond me, her face lighted up with a 
 strange rapture, she freed herself from my clasp, and 
 stretching out both her hands, she cried : 
 
 ' " John, John, you here ? my darling ! my husband ! 
 Take my hands ; hold them, dear. I had a dreadful 
 dream, John — that we were parted — and ay ! but I was 
 longing — longing terrible — but we are together now — 
 God be praised ! Ay, indeed, I was wearying for you; 
 and now we are hand in hand, never to part — never — 
 to— part." 
 
 'The momentary strength gave way; the shade of 
 death passed over the countenance, so radiant but one 
 second before ! The kind, loving friend of my child- 
 hood, of all my life, was gone from me ! 
 
 ' And as I gazed at the dear face that had always had 
 a ready smile for me now lying so still in that mysterious 
 sleep, the white lids shading the blue eyes that would 
 never again in this world be bent on me with looks of 
 love, of sympathy — how far away she seemed ! — the 
 full realization of all I had lost rushed upon me with 
 overwhelming force, and the pent-up tears flowed 
 freely. Yes, yes, I was little more than a boy then, 
 and I am now a very old man, but I remember it all ; 
 yes, well — better than the things of yesterday !
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Mr. Cecil Morton's disappearance — The Mclnnis — Finding of 
 Morton's body — Mclnnis's death — Mistress Rachel Looney's 
 old coins and long journey — Conclusion, 
 
 'With the morning light came recollection of my 
 friend Cecil, whom, in the pain and agitation I had 
 been passing through, I had almost forgotten. " Very 
 Hkely he got back all right last night to the inn, or 
 else will return this morning," I tried to persuade my- 
 self, but could not shake off my fears as to his safety ; 
 and, early as it was, I determined to send to the inn to 
 inquire if they had had any intelligence. I accord- 
 ingly summoned Mrs. Quayle. 
 
 ' " Sendin' now this early !" she exclaimed. " Why, 
 there'll not be none of them up !" 
 
 '"I think I'll walk there myself; it is better than 
 sitting here with my unhappy thoughts." 
 
 '"Go yerself! Oh no, no, sir; there's no call for 
 that at all. I'll sen' an' willin' ; only I'm thinkin' it's 
 no manner o' use ; for Thomas won't get in, it's like." 
 
 ' "I would really rather go myself; the air will do 
 me good," I added, as the kind-hearted landlady still 
 demurred.
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 39 
 
 ' " Oh, if that's how it's with ye, mebbe ye'd better 
 take the road yerself; but ye musn' think I'm not 
 willin' to do that an' more for ye." 
 
 ' I need not trouble you with all the details of my 
 walk, or arrival at the Hibernia ; suffice it to say that 
 neither Morton nor any message from him had come. 
 So after leaving a few lines to be delivered to my 
 friend immediately on his arrival, I at once prepared 
 to make my way back to Maughold, where so much 
 awaited me to do. 
 
 ' I traversed the same road, passing Corna Bay. 
 The morning was opening up into a bright one, that 
 seemed to herald a fine day ; the sea, as far as eye 
 could reach, looked like a spread of glittering silver 
 in the gleams of early sunrise. I neared the cottage 
 where Cecil had told me the Mclnnises lived : smoke 
 was curling up from the solitary chimney. They had 
 risen, then. I would make inquiries of the man whom 
 Morton had said he would get to row him to Ramsey. 
 How had not this occurred to me before ? He, per- 
 haps, would be able to tell me of my friend — might 
 even have been charged with a message that he had 
 failed to deliver. 
 
 ' As I was threading my way along the shingly 
 beach, a man came out of the hut. He carried what 
 seemed a heavily-laden sack upon his shoulders, and 
 made his way with difficulty (half staggering under the 
 load) towards a boat that I saw in the distance, gently 
 rising and falling on the shining water with every
 
 40 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 movement of the tide. This no doubt would be 
 Mclnnis. 
 
 ' " Hie — I say !" I shouted ; but he either did not 
 or would not hear — the latter I concluded, for he 
 presently quickened his pace, and I saw for the first 
 time that he limped badly. Of whom did he remind 
 me ? My dream ! I now ran rapidly after him — he 
 heard me ; and, turning for one second, and seeing I 
 was pursuing, still further increased his speed. That 
 momentary glimpse of his face showed me the 
 counterpart of the murderer of my vision ! — night- 
 mare ! — call it what you will. Good God ! Then 
 had all the horrors I had witnessed when in that 
 mesmeric state been a true warning or prophecy of 
 what had now been fulfilled ? A cold moisture broke 
 out over my head, yet still I ran after the man ; and he, 
 perceiving I was swiftly gaining on him, put the sack 
 down on the beach, and seated himself on it, as 
 though awaiting me. 
 
 ' "Sure an' are ye wanting me, sorr?"he asked, as I 
 arrived panting at his side. 
 
 ' " Yes, I am wanting you," I replied angrily ; 
 "and why did you not stop when I shouted to 
 you ?" 
 
 ' " I did not hear, your honour, or av coorse I'd 
 have waited ; I'm rayther hard of hearin'. And what 
 might yer be wanting wid me, sorr ?" 
 
 * " You are named Mclnnis, are you not ?" 
 
 ' " Yis, sorr ; Pat Mclnnis at yer honour's sarvice."
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 41 
 
 I u 
 
 Well, now, Pat Mclnnis, I happen to know that 
 my friend Mr. Cecil Morton went out with you yester- 
 day in your boat. He has not returned home, so I 
 come to you for information about him." 
 
 'And I looked steadily and sternly at him. He 
 moved his shifty eyes uneasily for a moment under 
 my searching gaze, but soon recovered himself. 
 
 '"So yer honour's a frind of the dear young gintle- 
 man's ?" he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his 
 grimy-looking hand ; " an' it's proud I am to hear that 
 same, for it's meself didn't know what to do about 
 him at all, at all. He didn't go in the boat yesther- 
 day, yer honour, but he came for me, sorr, and I w^int 
 wid him to the rocks beyant, and his fut slipt, and his 
 head is hurted — badly, I'm thinking ; for he's not 
 spaking nor moving, and what he does say there isn't 
 no sinse in ; and it's meself is just going in the 
 boat to get a docther from tow^n to come to see him — 
 indade, the quicker I go the betther. Maybe yer 
 honour would not be above helping me wid this sack 
 to the little craft, for I'se got to fetch it ; an' then, 
 sorr, if yer'll go back to that cottage there, you'll find 
 Misthriss Mclnnis and the young gintleman." 
 
 ' Then Cecil was alive ! and, bad as the news was 
 as to his state, how relieved I felt ! I gladly helped 
 the man with his load. He rowed briskly away, and 
 presently disappeared round the nearest headland. I 
 turned with a lightened heart to the little thatched 
 cabin, and knocked at the door, but no one answered,
 
 42 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 nor did I hear any sound to indicate that it was in- 
 habited. "What was the meaning of this ? I tried the 
 latch, but found that entrance was barred from within. 
 There was a place for a window, but innocent of frame 
 or glass ; in their stead was a strong wooden shutter. 
 On trying this, I found it also was securely fastened 
 inside ! My fears revived with redoubled force. The 
 man's tale, could it have been concocted on the 
 instant, to send me back, and gain time to effect his 
 escape ? Alas ! I feared so. 
 
 ' " Mrs. ]\lclnnis ! Mrs. Mclnnis !" I shouted, 
 rattling the latch furiously at the same time. 
 
 ' No answer ; but as I listened, I could distinguish 
 cautious movements inside. 
 
 ' " I implore you, tell me," I cried, " whoever you 
 may be, is there a gentleman in this hut, who has been 
 badly hurt by a fall from the rocks ?" 
 
 ' " No, no, no !" wailed a female voice ; and then a 
 low moan fell upon my ear. " Go away ! go away ! 
 for the love of heaven !" 
 
 ' " I will not go away, so open the door, or I will 
 break it down ;" and I threw myself frantically against 
 it ; the wood cracked in places, I could hear, but did 
 not otherwise yield to my desperate onslaught. 
 "Very w^ell, then, unless you at once admit me, I will 
 make my way to the police station, and have you 
 and your husband arrested, and that without de- 
 lay." 
 
 'Again a faint movement inside, and then I heard
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 43 
 
 the bolts being hesitatingly and slowly withdrawn ; the 
 door opened, and there stood f/ie woman of my vision 
 — tall and thin, and clad in long, black, clinging gar- 
 ments, the same dark, crape-like covering enveloping 
 her head. A chill of dread and fear crept over me. 
 For a few seconds I could not speak, but gazed in 
 astonishment at the strange figure. 
 
 ' " Is there a gentleman concealed in this cottage, 
 badly injured from a fall ?" I tremblingly asked. 
 
 ' " No, no, no," again wailed the woman ; " go 
 away ! go away !" 
 
 ' " Not till I have searched every hole and corner 
 of this place. Stand out of the w^ay, and let me 
 pass ;" for she had tried to bar my entrance. 
 
 ' I put her to one side, and as I crossed the 
 threshold she glided past me, wringing her hands like 
 the dream-w^oman, and moved swiftly away in the 
 direction of the beach. I did not wait to detain her, 
 but took a hasty survey of the hut ; but, save a tail- 
 less red cat that sprang from the hearth on to a large 
 sea-chest near, from whence it growled and spit at me, 
 no other living thing was in the place. 
 
 'I had been tricked, deceived, and had actually 
 helped the murderer, as I now believed him to be, to 
 escape — the thief^with what he had stolen from his 
 victim. I was now fully persuaded that all I had 
 witnessed a week before was a marvellous premoni- 
 tion, or " warning." I had for the time been vested 
 with the power of " second - sight ; " perhaps the
 
 44 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 " gift," as some call it, was latent in me. I had 
 suffered myself to be laughed out of all faith in the 
 revelation. For this I should suffer a life-long repent- 
 ance. Grief, every other thought or feeling, was now 
 in abeyance to the one burning desire for vengeance. 
 He who had done this deed should not escape me. 
 Full of this idea, and dreading that the villain might 
 escape, I made all haste to Ramsey, not even pausing 
 to enter the cottage where my dear grandmother lay. 
 I ran rather than walked — my blood was in a fever ; 
 but why should I trouble you with the feelings of that 
 time ? I must confine myself to the bare details, and 
 these I shall give as succinctly as possible. 
 
 ' I went at once to the police-station on arriving in 
 the town. I need hardly say I did not subject myself 
 to ridicule by relating what I have told you. All that 
 could be done was done, and with wonderful expedi- 
 tion, notwithstanding the slowness with which the 
 Manx police force are sometimes charged ; but neither 
 the man nor woman Mclnnis, or any trace of them, 
 could be found. 
 
 ' The next thing I did was to write to Mr. Haynes, 
 telling him of Morton's mysterious disappearance, my 
 encounter with the Mclnnises, and stating also that I 
 had every reason to fear there had been foul play on 
 the part of the Irishman. This Mr. Haynes was 
 married to Morton's sister. She was your uncle's 
 favourite of the few remaining to him of his relatives. 
 By the way, is she alive now ?'
 
 OFF MA UG HOLD HEAD. 45 
 
 Mr. Parker paused to inquire. Having informed 
 him that she and her husband had years ago joined 
 the great majority, he proceeded : 
 
 ' My next movement was to remove all my belong- 
 ings from the inn to Mrs. Quayle's cottage at Maug- 
 hold, where my dear grandmother had spent so many 
 years of her life. 
 
 ' Mr. Haynes arrived the day after I had followed 
 my much-loved relative to her last resting-place. He 
 had started immediately on receipt of my letter. He 
 was, as, of course, you are aware, a solicitor, a self- 
 possessed, business-like man, who questioned me very 
 calmly, and without any display of emotion, as to all 
 the particulars of his brother-in-law's disappearance, 
 his general habits, and so on. He considered what I 
 related of the Irishman very damning evidence against 
 him, and, like myself, was inclined to believe the 
 worst. Before driving out to me, he had, he told me 
 ordered posters, offering a reward of ;^ioo for any 
 information respecting Morton. He returned that 
 
 evening to Ramsey, where he had put up at the 
 
 Hotel. 
 
 'Thoroughly weary, I retired early to bed, and 
 soon forgot everything in the sound sleep of ex- 
 haustion. Towards six o'clock next morning, I was 
 roused by loud knocking at my door. In answer to 
 a rather drowsy " Come in," Mrs. Quayle called to 
 me in frightened tones : 
 
 ' " Oh, sir ! please get up : yer wanted."
 
 46 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 ' I jumped out of bed at once. 
 
 ' " What is it ?" I cried. 
 
 ' " Loss-a-me, I don't know rightly how to tell ye, 
 an' that's the thruth ; but, sir, the poor young gentle- 
 man, he's — he's " 
 
 'All this time I had been hastily donning my 
 garments. 
 
 '"He's what?" and I opened the door. 
 
 ' " He's found " 
 
 ' " He's found, thank God !" 
 
 '"Oh, but he's " 
 
 ' " Where — where ? Speak, can't you ?" for the 
 terrified woman seemed hardly able to utter a word. 
 " Oh, tell me, Mrs. Quayle ; pray collect yourself. 
 He is lying badly injured somewhere, perhaps." 
 
 ' I asked this, though from the poor landlady's 
 agitated appearance I anticipated what she found so 
 difficult to say. 
 
 ' " Injured ! The Lord be good to us ! No, no, 
 sir ; but dead he is. Picked up, the corpse was, by 
 Jemmy Kinraid and Charley Fell this mornin'. They 
 were goin' out early to the fishin', an' some boy with 
 them, an' they seen something floating; an' when 
 they come near, they seen it was a body, and they 
 took it into the boat — a terrible sight, they're sayin'. 
 But they foun' out who he was with letters an' writin' 
 in his pockets : an' then they took the poor lad to the 
 Hibernia, an' they wasn' willin' there for to take him 
 in. But there he is, anyways, poor young falla !
 
 OFF MA UG HOLD HEAD. 47 
 
 Och, och ! an' sorry enough I am that the like 
 should happen to him." 
 
 ' My distress, all the painful after-details, I spare 
 you, and at once turn to the time, five years later, 
 when I again visited the Isle of Man. I pass over 
 the intervening visits, as they were quite uneventful. 
 I was now a married man, and doing very well in the 
 business in which I and my son are now partners ; 
 but I had never forgotten my friend Cecil Morton, or 
 ceased to think, with deep pain, of his tragic end, nor 
 had years weakened my faith in my having had 
 revealed by second-sight how this dreadful tragedy 
 had been brought about. I always put up at Mrs. 
 Quayle's in Maughold, and each time inquired 
 whether anything had been heard of the Mclnnises. 
 They had totally disappeared — had not even tried to 
 reclaim their goods and chattels at the cottage. An 
 elderly woman of the name of Kneale, who, I was 
 informed, was aunt to Mrs. Mclnnis, went in, and 
 took possession ; and as she paid the owner of the 
 little place the trifling rent regularly, she stayed there 
 unopposed. The time of my visit to the island of 
 which I am about to speak was in the beginning of 
 October. The weather was anything but pleasant — 
 gusty and cold, with occasional heavy downpours of 
 rain. The sky kept up a dull, leaden-gray appearance, 
 through which the sun shed only watery beams ; 
 whilst the sea came rolling in, in huge, dark, threaten- 
 ing waves, crested here and there with white foam
 
 48 SHADOJVLAND IN ELLAN VANNIN. 
 
 that either broke with sullen roar upon the beach, or 
 dashed with impotent fury against the rocky coast 
 that impeded its progress. 
 
 ' The third day after my arrival at Mrs. Quayle's a 
 storm of unusual severity set in. The wind howled 
 and shrieked round the little cottage, shaking it to the 
 foundations, as though bent upon its destruction. A 
 threatening gloom hung over the whole landscape, 
 while the loud boom of the sea sounded out in 
 sonorous tone above the raging wind and beating rain. 
 This tempest continued with unabated violence 
 throughout the night, but towards morning began to 
 moderate, and by eight o'clock the sun broke through, 
 and at last dispersed the overhanging clouds. A faint 
 breeze only stirred the air, or shook the glistening 
 raindrops from the laden trees. No trace of the 
 previous night's hurricane remained, save the wet 
 ground and deep pools that overflowed, sending tiny 
 rivulets down hedges and paths in all directions. 
 
 ' " There was a wreck off Maughold Head las' 
 night, sir," said my landlady as she was removing my 
 breakfast things. 
 
 ' " Indeed ! No lives lost, I hope ?" 
 
 ' " I can't say for sure, but one man, I hear, got 
 ashore — ^jus' by yonther steep rocks by Corna Bay; 
 an' it's a wonder if he got up so far as he was tellin', 
 for he was jus' at the top, when down he fell to the 
 bottom ; an' his back is broke, an' Docther Christian 
 says there isn' no hopes of him. He was took to
 
 OFF MA UG HOLD HEAD. 49 
 
 Misthress Kneale's cottage by them as foun' him, it 
 bein' the neares'. Quayle has gone over now to see 
 how is he. He's talkin' — the man, I mean, that's 
 hurted — of two others as was wis him in the smack. 
 They, it seems, were left on her, but he was swep' off 
 by a heavy sea that washed her decks." 
 
 * " I'll go and see if I can do anything for the poor 
 fellow ;" and I at once started for the cottage where the 
 unfortunate man lay. 
 
 ' Some half dozen people were congregated near the 
 door, talking, who touched their hats civilly to me as 
 I passed into the hut. 
 
 ' " He's been ramblin' a bit, sir," said Mrs. Kneale, 
 " an' mus' be kep' quite (quiet). He's not to see no 
 one ;" and she tried to bar my further progress towards 
 the bed by placing her broad rotund figure between 
 me and it in an almost threatening attitude that sur- 
 prised me. 
 
 ' I was about to retire quietly, when, by a sudden 
 restless movement of his arm, the man threw down a 
 curtain that had hung from the ceiling, and before the 
 bed, and had completely concealed it and him from 
 my view ; but now he lay clearly revealed before me 
 — no other than Mclnnis ! 
 
 ' Mrs. Kneale picked up and tried hastily to replace 
 the fallen drapery, but before she could interfere I 
 pushed past her to the side of the bed. 
 
 ' " Is that a priest ?" asked the man. " Oh, for the 
 love of Heaven, get me a priest ! Oh ! the saints be 
 
 4
 
 50 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 good to me ! What did all the goold, and the watch, 
 and the things — what did they bring me?" he moaned: 
 " nothing but ill luck, and misfortin', and mortial fear 
 night and day — night and day ! And he niver 
 doubtin' but going wid me, the craythur — and me to 
 strike him down like that ! What divil put yonder bit 
 of leaded stick into my hand? Blissid Virgin, pray 
 for me ! Jesus, pray for me ! Oh, that I could 
 remimber the words good Father Hamilton used to 
 tache me! It was the just judgment of God upon me 
 — that I should be kilt — aff av the same rocks as I 
 sint — him ! Oh, will I be ha'nted for iver and always 
 — with him falling — falling " 
 
 '"Come away, sir — ye'd betther," said Mrs. 
 Kneale, taking hold of my arm ; " it's ravin' the poor 
 falla is." 
 
 ' " It is Mclnnis, and you know it ;" and I shook 
 myself free of her. " He is now beyond the reach of 
 human justice, so you need be in no fear at my recog- 
 nising him, or of anyone else ; but is there no priest 
 to be got for the poor creature ?" for the dying man 
 was again petitioning imploringly in the midst of his 
 dehrium for "a priest — a priest." 
 
 ' " Pries'," said Mrs. Kneale contemptuously ; "what 
 good would the like do him, or anyone else ? I've sent 
 for a neighbour man. He's a local preacher, too, an' 
 he'll put up a bit of a prayer with him. I'm pityin' 
 him enough, poor sowl, though he was a rale bad man 
 to my niece — his wife, she was. She was drove out of
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 51 
 
 her right sinses with him, an' that fond of him, too, 
 for all, that she'd be followin' him about everywhere, 
 for fear he'd be took for smugglin', or some of his bad 
 doin's — watchin' him — watchin' him — still she was ; 
 an' she could climb up — up an' down the highest 
 places, and the roughest, like a goat. She took a quare 
 notion to wear a long black dhress, an' she was puttin' 
 a wisp of crape on her head — down to her knees 
 nearly — when she'd be goin' out, instead of a decent 
 bonnet. I'm wondtherin' where'll she be now." 
 
 * " A priest ! — a priest !" again moaned the wretched 
 man. 
 
 ' Presently his mood changed ; he tried to raise 
 himself in the bed, shrieking in agonized tones : " Take 
 him away ! I'm seeing him always and iver, with the 
 look — he turned on me when he was falling — falling." 
 His voice then sank to a low murmur. " Hide it — 
 hide it, wife. Ned Dougherty and me — in the fishing 
 lugger — Gipsy Queen. I rowed out — Ned was drunk. 
 I waited till night — threw the body overboard. Wake 
 up, Ned — we must get under way — for Whitehaven. 
 Ned mustn't know the goold I've got hid away in the 
 Gipsy Queen — and in the cave off Maughold Head. 
 No one knows that cave but you — and me— Janie !" 
 
 ' " Could you not find out from him before he 
 becomes quite unconscious what has become of his 
 unfortunate wife ?" I said to Mrs. Kneale. 
 
 ' " I've been thryin', but I'll thry him agen ;" and 
 she bent over Mclnnis, putting her mouth close 
 
 4—2
 
 52 SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN VANNIN. 
 
 to his ear, asked slowly and clearly: "Where's 
 Janie?" 
 
 ' He turned his dazed eyes apprehensively upon her 
 for a moment. 
 
 ' " Janie ? — yis, sure — where is she ? Poor Janie !" 
 he muttered, moving his head restlessly backwards 
 and forwards upon the pillow, as if endeavouring to 
 recall something. " Why, Janie, yer not going to die 
 and lave me all alone ?" and his voice became wonder- 
 fully soft and gentle. He was evidently in imagina- 
 tion living over again the scene of his wife's death — 
 their parting. " I've not been what I ought to ye, 
 asthore, but you were the good faithful woman to me, 
 and ivery crass word and ivery blow that I gave you 
 I'm regritting now. Sorrow a wan will ye git from 
 Pat agin if ye'll git betther. What's that yer saying, 
 mavourneen. Spake up ! Ye can't ? Ah, well, don't 
 throuble. I'm clear now in my head. ' Pat, dear ' 
 (yis, that's what she's saying), ' my brain was clouded 
 for long, but I've loved you through all, Pat, an' am 
 only thinkin' of what a good man ye wor to me — afore 
 you got into bad company ; an' now — now I'm leaving 
 ye, promise me ye'll thry to lead a betther hfe.' An' is 
 that what yer sayin', asthore. Arrah, but I've that on 
 my sowl that'll niver be forgotten night nor day — 
 waking nor slaping ! Go on my knees and pray — me 
 is it ? Wlio'd listen to me ? He that died for me 
 and all the wurrold — ' ready to pardon and recave the 
 pinitent sinner,' An' sure, mavourneen, how could
 
 OFF MAUGHOLD HEAD. 53 
 
 the likes of me git to Him widout the priest ; but I'll 
 go to his riverence and — oh, Janie ! — mavourneen ! — 
 wife ! — it's not dead ye are — ay, dead — dead/ — poor 
 girl! — buried — far away — in America — where his 
 money — took us — Janie. Send for Father Hamilton 
 — quick ! — quick !" again he cried in agonized 
 tones. 
 
 'Just then the doctor came in, accompanied — as 
 his dress proclaimed him — by a priest, and I at once 
 withdrew. 
 
 ' Did I want further confirmation of the truth of the 
 vision ? What fills me with undying regret is, that I 
 had been laughed out of heeding and acting on the 
 warning given me by second- sight.' 
 
 And so ended this strange history. I had been 
 much struck with Mr. Parker's clear recollection, not 
 only of all the incidents, but of even the words 
 spoken so many years past, and also that he seemed 
 to fall naturally — when relating dialogue — from his 
 very pure English to the vernacular of the Manx or 
 Irish, as the case might be. 
 
 The acquaintanceship I had made in the little way- 
 side inn with father and son ripened into a warm 
 friendship. The old man has now^ for years been 
 gathered to his rest, and his grand-daughter, the child 
 of ' Masther George,' is now my wife. 
 
 Mrs. Rachel Looney — the eccentric landlady — I 
 heard, had not long after undertaken the journey to 
 Adelaide, there to remain with some relatives. She
 
 54 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN VANNIN. 
 
 had been enriched, report said, by the discovery of 
 some valuable coins on her property at Ballabarna, in 
 Maughold. These coins, I was also informed, she 
 sent out of the island— lest they might be claimed 
 and sold in England — with the exception of four. 
 These a Mr. Wallace, of Dissington, near White- 
 haven, who happened to be in the island about that 
 time, bought from a jeweller in Douglas. Only two 
 of the four could be deciphered — both Anglo-Saxon — 
 one a Sihtric, the other an Ethelred. This was about 
 the year 1834. But many people now living remem- 
 ber the strange landlady of the Hibernia, though the 
 sad tragedy is forgotten that occurred off Maughold 
 Head.
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE.
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 
 
 Father Kelly and his little charge — The priest's wondrous vision 
 — The chapel of Keeihl Vaayle — Paul and Ayla— The war 
 arrow — Battle in Ramsey Bay — Paul rescues Dugal — Dis- 
 covery of Ayla by her parents — The priest's strange adven- 
 ture in the chapel— Ayla's and Paul's marriage at Keeihl 
 Vaayle — Murder of the good Father — Death of the murderer 
 — Conclusion. 
 
 At the southern extremity of the Isle of Man is a 
 place called Langness, a sort of peninsula, to which is 
 attached the diminutive island of St. Michael's, in 
 the present day known as Fort Island. 
 
 At the time of which we write, somewhere about 
 the middle of the eleventh century, during the reign 
 of Godred 11. in Man, and when the insular Church 
 was governed by good Bishop Gamaliel, a strange 
 group were gathered on this isle. Old men leaning 
 heavily on their staves, or supported by their strong, 
 stalwart-looking sons or grandsons, women, too, of 
 all ages, swelled the number, while little children 
 either played at hide-and-seek with each other — much 
 the same as the young people of the present day — or 
 sat here and there gathering the flowers of both land 
 and sea growth, that so plentifully besprinkled the
 
 5S SHADOW LAND IN ELLAN V ANN IN. 
 
 short green sward, while those of more tender years 
 were carried in their mothers' arms. All bent their 
 eyes anxiously on the remarkable figure approaching 
 them — an aged priest, whose cowl now covered his 
 head. He led by the hand a little child of perhaps 
 six or seven years old, and as he drew nearer, the 
 people, one and all, bowed in reverence, and then 
 bent their eyes inquiringly on their pastor. Before 
 addressing them he ascended a sort of cairn, or heap 
 of stones, that were piled together near, thus raising 
 himself a little above the crowd, and throwing back 
 his hood, displayed a face on which relentless time 
 had traced many a wrinkle ; but years had not dimmed 
 the fire of the deep-set black eyes, shaded by thick 
 gray brows. The nose was aquiline, the forehead 
 broad, the head surrounded by a fringe of snow-white 
 hair, and now, as his gaze travelled from one to 
 another of those about him, a smile of infinite gentle- 
 ness lighted up the whole face, softening a countenance 
 that in repose looked harsh and stern. 
 
 The little girl had dropped his hand at a whisper 
 from him, and joined a group of children near, to 
 whom she showed in strong contrast, not only by the 
 beauty and delicacy of her complexion, and the finer 
 cast of features and of limbs, but in her dress, which 
 was of rich materials, not w^orn or manufactured in 
 the island, both women and children being clad in 
 the warm rough sort of flannel, or cloth, spun from 
 the wool of the Loaghtyn sheep.
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 59 
 
 The priest, amidst a profound silence, broken only 
 by the soft lap of the sea against the cliffs, lifted his 
 hands, as though invoking a blessing, and then raising 
 his eyes to heaven, his voice in solemn tones fell upon 
 the ear of those around, as he said in Manx : ' Ayns 
 Ennym yn Ayr, as y Vac, as y Spyrryd Noo ' (' In the 
 name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost '). 
 
 After a moment's pause he said : ' I have asked you 
 all to meet me here, when the sun is not long risen, 
 whilst his rays still kindle into light, the early dew on 
 grass and flower, before you go this bright April morn- 
 ing to your daily labour. The first and the last of 
 the day ought always to be dedicated in worship and 
 in prayer to the God who has given it, and whose 
 holy angels guard us, not only in the silent watches of 
 the night, but in the busy hours of toil.' 
 
 The priest again paused before saying : ' I have 
 matter of great import to tell you. Yesterday, about 
 mid-day, a sudden strange sleep, or unconsciousness, 
 fell upon me ; and methought God's holy angel, St. 
 Michael, stood beside me. His raiment shone like 
 the glitter of the sea where the moonbeams fall. 
 Round his head a halo of light gleamed as a crown of 
 glory ; the beauty of his face was such as no painting 
 of even our Blessed Lady could picture. 
 
 ' I would have fallen on my knees before him, but 
 he stayed me, saying : 
 
 '"Do not bend the knee to me, but follow where I 
 am bid to lead thee."
 
 6o SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 ' I, trembling, rose, for such awe did fill my senses at 
 this wondrous vision that my limbs would scarce 
 obey my willing mind. 
 
 ' " Good and faithful servant of the Most High," 
 said he, " fear not ;" and, taking my hand, methought 
 that he and I rose softly from the earth, and floated 
 in the air, hand in hand, till we stood where we are all 
 assembled, on this little isle.' 
 
 Here excited murmurs from the listeners broke in 
 upon the priest's address. Some fell on their knees, 
 and many of the women prostrated themselves in 
 prayer ; exclamations of wonder, and even dread, rose 
 on every side, while glances of fear and expectation 
 were cast around. Children stopped their play, and 
 the little ones clung to their mothers' knees. 
 
 The speaker, seeing the effect of his words, changed 
 his tone : 
 
 ' Are ye not proud, instead of fearful ?' he cried, 
 while his eyes shot fire from beneath their shaggy 
 brows, ' that a message from heaven should be sent 
 to you, and that the archangel himself should be the 
 messenger? And that message was — what think ye? 
 That here, on this very spot where we are all assembled 
 — here, I say, you and I, working together, are to build 
 a church for the service of God ; and now I ask : 
 Are ye all ready to do what ye can in this pious 
 work? Money you have not, but most of you have 
 strong hands. Have you willing hearts ?' 
 
 Cries of 'The ! the !' ('Yes ! yes !') arose on every
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 6i 
 
 side. Women wept and crossed themselves, while 
 men clasped hands, and all vowed to do their utmost 
 in this great work. The priest, after a few more 
 words of exhortation and prayer, dismissed them ; 
 and as they made their way back to their respective 
 homes, they talked, in awe-struck tones, of the wonder- 
 ful vision of the good father, 
 
 ' I bless God and His saints,' said one old gray- 
 beard, ' that I have been spared to see the day when 
 an angel from heaven should be sent to us. I mind 
 the time when good Father Kelly came from Ireland. 
 We were little better than heathen, though we had 
 heard of Christ and His Gospel ; but he has worked 
 among us early and late. Where sickness or sorrow 
 comes, there he is always found, helping and comfort- 
 ing ; and many a day and many a night has he passed 
 in fast and vigil, praying for our souls. How good 
 must he be, and saintly, and beloved, when the holy 
 angel St. Michael has been sent to him ! Isn't it 
 wonderful — wonderful? These hands are old and 
 feeble, but methinks I can carry a few stones to the 
 work ; but help I must, and help I will !' 
 
 His words were taken up by all within hearing, and 
 ' Help we must, and help we will !' was echoed in the 
 Manx tongue on all sides by the excited crowd. 
 
 And now ten years have passed, and the little chapel 
 of Keeihll Vaayl (St. Michael's) stands as complete, 
 and has done for some six years, as rough hands could
 
 62 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 make it. The people had never flagged in their 
 energy, even after the excitement of the good priest's 
 address had to a certain extent worn off; they had 
 devoted every hour to the work that they could spare 
 from toiling on their farms, or out at the fishing, to pro- 
 vide for the wants of their families and themselves. 
 
 Cummings, in his ' Isle of Man,' thus describes the 
 ruins of this chapel still to be seen on St. Michael's 
 or Fort Island : 
 
 ' The little Isle of St. Michael (commonly called 
 Fort Island), on which stands the fort and ruined 
 church, is connected with Langness at its northern 
 point by a narrow causeway. . . . 
 
 ' There can be no doubt of the great antiquity of 
 the little chapel, or oratory, at the west end of it. Two 
 centuries ago, as figured in Chaloner's " Description," 
 it was a ruin. It reminds us strongly in its archi- 
 tecture and general details of the interesting church of 
 Peransabuloe in Cornwall. It differs, however, in the 
 number of windows. The church of Peransabuloe 
 was lighted by but one, this has four, an east and a 
 west window, and a north and south placed very near 
 the east end. The west, north, and south windows 
 are square-headed, the two latter being only twelve 
 inches wide outside, but with a wide splay to two feet 
 ten inches inside. The east window is one long 
 single light, with a semicircular head and only ten 
 inches in breadth outside, but largely splayed. 
 
 ' This little chapel is of but one compartment,
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 63 
 
 v/hose length is thirty-one feet, and breadth fourteen. 
 The thickness of the walls is three feet. At the west 
 end is a bell-turret. The chapel was entered by one 
 door on the south side, nine feet from the west end, 
 the height of which is six feet, and the width two feet 
 four inches. This door, like the east window, has a 
 semicircular heading, formed of small pieces of the 
 schist of this neighbourhood, set edgeways round the 
 arch, whilst the door-jambs are of rough blocks of hme- 
 stone. There is no appearance of a tool on any part 
 of it, if we except the coping stones on the west gable. 
 
 ' We may mark the foundation of a stone altar under 
 the east window, and at the same end, on the north 
 corner, three stone steps which may have served as an 
 ambo or pulpit. The height of the side-walls of the 
 building is only ten feet. The length of its graveyard 
 is one hundred and ninety-two feet, and the breadth 
 ninety-eight, and as yet it is untouched by the plough.' 
 
 But to return to our story. On this particular day — a 
 warm, bright one for the season, February — two figures 
 might be seen resting beneath the shelter of the chapel 
 porch. The one, a young girl of rare beauty, whose 
 golden hair fell in silky waves below her waist ; her 
 complexion vied in colouring with the tinting of the 
 pink-lined shell she held within the taper fingers of 
 her small white hand; her features were exquisitely 
 formed, while the large dark-blue eyes she now and 
 then raised to her companion's face were lovely, not 
 only from shape and colour, but by their earnest.
 
 64 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN VANNIN. 
 
 trustful expression. She was clothed in the rough 
 woollen dress worn by the natives of the Isle of Man ; 
 but nothing could conceal the grace of her figure, or 
 take from a certain air of gentle birth that had earned 
 for her the title amongst the people round of ' the 
 priest's Httle lady.' 
 
 Leaning against the entrance-door of the chapel, at 
 her side, stood her companion, a young man of about 
 twenty years of age. He was quite six feet high, with a 
 strong and well-knit frame. His eyes, hair, and eye- 
 brows were very dark, and the first appearance of a 
 beard showed black upon his upper lip and cheeks. 
 His head, which he had uncovered, was well formed, 
 the forehead broad and high, the nose straight, and 
 the shapely mouth and chin beneath seemed to 
 indicate firmness and stabiHty of character. Though 
 he, too, is dressed in the rough costume of a Manx 
 peasant, it is evident that he is of much higher degree, 
 his whole air and appearance being that of one used 
 rather to handle the sword than till the ground, to 
 tread in courts instead of the humble abode of an 
 island agriculturist or fisherman. 
 
 He addresses his companion in English : ' Then 
 thou dost not remember any time before thou camest 
 to the good father ?' 
 
 ' Methinks I have some dim recollections, so 
 faint as almost to seem like dreams, of a time when I 
 used to see armed men go forth, as if to battle, when 
 the sound of music and of clanking spears did break
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 65 
 
 in upon my infant slumbers, and that, when I cried at 
 the sound, someone beautiful as one of God's angels 
 did bend over me and soothe me into rest, and then 
 more vividly I remember being in a ship with rough, 
 fierce men about me : I can still picture them, and the 
 great waves that seemed each moment going to bury 
 us beneath their black waters. I recollect next 
 waking from sleep or unconsciousness, and instead of 
 the cruel-looking people who had surrounded and 
 terrified me, and the sea, and the rocking of the ship, 
 I was being gently carried in the priest's arms. I have 
 only confused memories. This is all — and it seems 
 hardly real.' 
 
 ' And what has the good father told you? Where 
 did he find you, dear one ?' 
 
 ' Wrapped in warm furs in the shelter of the 
 cliffs near. At first he thought me dead ; but as he 
 bent o'er me, mine eyes unclosed, and gazed,' he 
 said, ' in such fear and wonder in his face as made 
 him sad to see. He took me in his arms, and brought 
 me to his home, where he and his good sister cared 
 for and tended me ever since with such gentleness 
 and affection I can ne'er repay, save by the de- 
 voted love I bear them. Mistress Kelly, his sister, 
 told me they asked whence I came, and all I could 
 reply was "big ship," " black water," and " bad men," 
 and that my name was Ayla, and at times, at first, 
 I cried, and could scarce be comforted, to be taken 
 to my mother and Olave, and sometimes from my 
 
 5
 
 66 SHADOW LAND IN ELLAN VANNIN. 
 
 indistinct speech they thought they could gather 
 names hke Angus and Dugall. Shpped between 
 the clothes on me, they found this.' 
 
 And Ayla drew from her bosom a massive gold 
 chain, to which was attached a cross of the same 
 metal ; on the back of this were rudely traced some 
 letters and the representation of a battle-axe of the 
 period. The young man looked carefully at this for 
 some time, and while he was examining it, the girl 
 continued : 
 
 'Within the furs in which I was enveloped were 
 some articles of rich clothing, and the good father and 
 Mistress Kelly Vv^ished to lay these things by; but 
 when they went to dress me in this woollen stuff that 
 I wear now, I cried and fretted so they let me have 
 my will, and I wore the things they found with me till 
 I grew too big for them ; and they have kept them torn 
 and worn as they are, thinking that by them, and this 
 piece of ornament you hold, those to whom I belonged, 
 if they sought me, might know me for their child.' 
 
 Ayla paused, and looked dreamily out to where the 
 sea lay calm and blue beyond : 
 
 ' I have had dreams and fancies that the beautiful 
 lady I seem to remember might some day come across 
 those waters, and, landing, find me here. Ofttimes I 
 have fallen asleep thinking how happy I should be to 
 feel her arms fold round me, and that I should call her 
 " mother " — idle dreams ! And I have been left naught 
 I ought to desire. Kindness and even lavish affection
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 67 
 
 have been bestowed upon me by both Mistress Kelly 
 and the good father, and all the people round love me, 
 and I them.' 
 
 'And now thou hast my devoted love, my Ayla, 
 and yet, alas ! I scarce know how to tell thee, but I 
 must bid thee farewell !' 
 
 ' What, dost thou leave thine Ayla ?' she cried, in 
 startled accents. 
 
 ' 'Tis even so, beloved ! the war- arrow summons 
 me, like many others, to the fight.' 
 
 ' To fight !' echoed Ayla, in frightened tones ; ' oh, 
 Paul, my beloved — my dearest, I cannot let thee go ! 
 I cannot part from thee !' In an agony of grief 
 she threw her arms around her lover and held him, 
 as though by this means she could keep him by her 
 side. 
 
 ' Go I must, my loved one, and my heart is torn 
 with anguish that I must part with thee. But two 
 moons have come and gone since, idly wandering here 
 after visiting the good monks at Rushen, I saw thee 
 in that bay gathering shells. How beautiful thou 
 wert ! I loved thee then, and ever shall. Alas that I 
 should have to leave thee, my sweet Ayla !' he 
 murmured tenderly, as he held her in his arms. 
 ' Thou hast perchance heard that a conspiracy is set 
 on foot by Torfinn, son of Ottar, against the good 
 King Godred to depose him from this, his kingdom of 
 Man. In this Torfinn is helped by Somerled, Moar- 
 mor of Argyle ; and to warn Godred, my father, Paul 
 
 5—2
 
 68 SHADOW LAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 Balkason, Lord of Skye, came hither, bringing me 
 with him ; and so, as I told thee, dear one, the war- 
 arrow hath been despatched ordering the preparation 
 of ships, and to-morrow, ere the sun shows above yon 
 waters, we shall have sailed from hence to meet the 
 enemy. I fear me that I cared not much for listen- 
 ing to my father and your king, or those that advised 
 with them, discussing all the preparations for this war, 
 though my blood warms and my heart beats high at 
 the thought of the coming battle.' 
 
 ' Ah, how different art thou then to me,' sighed Ayla ; 
 ' my blood runs cold, and my heart sinks low in 
 dread at what may befall thee in the fight ! If thou art 
 slain, I can but lay me down and die, for live with- 
 out thee now I cannot.' 
 
 ' My loved one, my Ayla 1' cried Paul, as he 
 kissed the tear-stained face, ' thou shouldest be brave, 
 and think only of the time when I shall return and in 
 this very church make thee my wife, to love thee ever, 
 and cherish thee, and keep thee by my side.' 
 
 ' And here,' said Ayla, ' will I repair each day to 
 pray for thee ! May God, and our Lady, and the good 
 St. Michael guard thee, and bring thee safe back to 
 thine Ayla ;' and the girl devoutly crossed herself, 
 her lover follov/ing her example. 
 
 And now in vows of love, passionate kisses, and 
 sighs, with many tears the lovers try to part, and once 
 and again, and yet again, they take what is to be the 
 last embrace, and yet Paul cannot tear himself away.
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 69 
 
 until the lengthening shadows warn Ayla that she has 
 been long from home, that Mistress Kelly will be uneasy, 
 and perhaps angered ; and besides this, threatening 
 clouds are rising above the horizon far out to sea, and 
 she remembers Paul has many miles to walk before he 
 can get to Duglas, where he stays that night, and joins 
 his father and the king, and next morning all take ship 
 to meet Prince Somerled, who is advancing, it is said, 
 with a fleet of eighty galleys to meet the opposing 
 forces of the King of Man. 
 
 When Ayla got home, she found Mistress Kelly as 
 she feared, uneasy at her lengthened absence, and not 
 a little put about that her brother, who had gone to 
 shrive a dying man in a hamlet some miles distant, 
 had not yet returned, as she, too, had marked the signs 
 of a coming storm, and feared his being wet and 
 roughly handled by the rising wind. 
 
 She had piled turf and large logs of wood on the 
 wide hearth, and as Ayla warmed herself she, for the 
 first time^ noticed how pale and sad, and what a 
 tear-stained face the firelight revealed. 
 
 ' My little lady,' she cried, ceasing from the lec- 
 ture she had been administering on the impropriety 
 of wandering for hours by the sea instead of being 
 employed in some useful way, or studying some of the 
 many things the priest had given her to learn — 
 ' why, little lady, what ails thee ? art thou ill ? or has 
 aught happened to distress thee ?' 
 
 And for all answer Ayla threw her arms round the
 
 70 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 good woman's neck, and wept and sobbed, and at last 
 in broken phrases told her all her sorrow : how Paul — 
 to whom Mistress Kelly was well affected — would sail 
 with the ships to-morrow, and perhaps be killed, and 
 never return to gladden her with his presence again. 
 ' Then, indeed,' she moaned, ' would the sky look ever 
 black, and even the summer breeze seem to echo 
 sighs, whilst flowers would lose their beauty and their 
 scent ; the murmur of the sea and the song of the 
 birds would have for me but one sad sound — death, 
 death !' 
 
 ' Why, Ayla, Ayla, this is very wrong ! such wor- 
 ship should be given to none on earth. God gives us 
 friends to love, and to be loved by, and duties to 
 fulfil for them, and all about us ; these things are to 
 lighten what would, perchance, otherwise be an over- 
 toilsome road to heaven ; we are to help each other 
 on the way ; but God should be first of all in our 
 thoughts and heart, and all His gifts we should be 
 ready to resign at His most sacred will.' 
 
 ' I could never be ready to resign m}' love, or say 
 " God's will be done " to that ; perchance, if I live to 
 be so old as thou art, I may feel like thee.' 
 
 ' Hoot, tut ! prithee rouse thee ; thy Paul will come 
 back safe enough, never fear thee,' cried Mistress 
 Kelly testily, not too well pleased at this allusion 
 to her years ; ' and thou wilt be his wife, thou'lt see, 
 and have enough of him, and he of thee, maybe ; there's 
 naught that cools the frenzy of love like years of
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 71 
 
 wedded life and constant intercourse, I am told by 
 those who've put it to the test. Holy Father !' she 
 exclaimed in a changed voice, as a gust of wind swept 
 past the house, seeming to shake it to the very founda- 
 tion, 'list to the storm, how it rises, and see the 
 heavens, how black they have become ! I fear me 
 thy Paul and Brian will have a wet skin ere they get 
 to shelter ; Paul, being young and strong, will suffer 
 no more than the discomfort; but for my brother, who 
 hath numbered eighty years, I fear it may go hard ! 
 I trust he will remain the night where he hath gone, 
 and not attempt to brave the coming storm.' 
 
 Her uneasiness communicated itself to Ayla, who 
 looked forth ; and certainly the scene was enough to 
 cause both women great anxiety. I'he sea that had had 
 almost a summer aspect a few hours before, reflected 
 now the blackness of the threatening clouds overhead, 
 the rumble of distant thunder broke upon the ear, 
 and presently a blinding flash of Hghtning gleamed 
 across the bay, followed by a roar of thunder so 
 terrific that both the frightened women involuntarily 
 clasped hands in sympathetic terror, whilst the serving- 
 woman rushed in from the kitchen exclaiming in 
 frightened accents and the Manx tongue : 
 
 ' God be good to us ! but is not this terrible — 
 terrible ! I'm trembling, not for the storm, though I've 
 ne'er seen nor heard the like before ; but the good 
 father, where will he be now ? God and His holy 
 angels have him in their keeping !'
 
 72 SHADOW LAND IN ELLAN V ANN IN. 
 
 Meanwhile, the priest had long before started on 
 his homeward way ; he, nor those whom he had left, 
 had not observed — they in their grief, and he in his 
 perfect sympathy— the lowering sky nor rising wind. 
 Armed with a stout staff, he trudged along with a 
 strength and activity wonderful for his years. 
 
 ' Ah me !' he murmured, ' how oft have I trod 
 these paths to shrive the dying, to minister to the sick, 
 to comfort those in sorrow, to help the poor in so for 
 as I could compass, and, what seemeth to me v.'here- 
 of more to rejoice, to lead the thoughts and desires of 
 all from earth to heaven ! And I have hereof much 
 wherein to glory, in that God hath blessed mine 
 efforts, and many have been led to the faithful vv-orship 
 of Him. Should not this content me ? Alas, it doth 
 not ! May He forgive me, for methinks I cannot die 
 content till I see the Chapel of St. Michael with an 
 altar, such as has gladdened mine eyes in many a 
 church in mine own land— ay, or such an one as at 
 the abbey at Russin. It did not seem an idle dream 
 to trust, as so ofttimes I have done, that when 
 St. Michael himself did vouchsafe to appear to me and 
 bid me raise this chapel to his honour, that so wonderful 
 a vision might be followed by miraculous guidance and 
 assistance to furnish the interior with all it now lacks. 
 Yet all these years have passed, and I fear me that to 
 others will be left the task to finish that which I began ;' 
 and the good old man sighed heavily ; the patience 
 and resignation he preached to others he found it hard
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 7^ 
 
 to exercise in this the great desire of his simple 
 earnest life. 
 
 ' I Avill e'en now hie me to the church, and pass 
 the few hours of the remaining day in prayer " for help, 
 for guidance, for submission.''^ ' 
 
 He had still some little way to go, and had barely 
 gained the entrance to the chapel when the threatened 
 storm burst forth in all its fury. He made haste to get 
 within the shelterof the church, andgroped his way where 
 some flickering lights shed the feeble rays that helped 
 to guide him to the altar, where he devoutly knelt. 
 
 This altar was a simple slab of stone supported on 
 pillars and marked with five crosses cut on the top, 
 signifying the five wounds of our Lord. By the 
 decree of the Council of Epone in France, a.d. 509, 
 ' no altars were to be consecrated with the chrism of 
 holy oil, but such as were made of stone only.' 
 
 Unmindful of the fearful uproar, the lightning 
 that every now and then illumined the place, the 
 thunder, or the tempest that beat upon the sacred 
 edifice, and seemed each moment to threaten its 
 destruction, the good old man prayed on, calm and 
 undisquieted. Erelong the wind abated, and at last 
 died down, sobbing itself into quietness like a tired 
 child ; the peals of thunder and flashes of lightning 
 came at greater intervals; and for the first time it 
 dawned upon Father Kelly's mind that his sister and 
 Ayla would probably be in great anxiety as to his 
 safety. He rose from his knees, intending to make
 
 74 SHADOW LAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 his way to where he could look out upon the night, 
 and so judge as to when it might be possible to get to 
 his home, but was arrested by the sound of hasty 
 stumbling footsteps and men's voices speaking low and 
 hurriedly. 
 
 Presently the steps came round the chapel, paused 
 by the entrance ; the door was tried, and after a little 
 delay opened. The priest made haste to ascend the 
 few steps that led to the ambo or pulpit, where in the 
 semi-darkness he hoped to find a place of secure con- 
 cealment. The men, with uncertain tread, as though 
 carrying some heavy weight, came in, and with many 
 oaths dropped their burden on the floor. 
 
 ' Beshrew thee for a careless fool, Niel !' cried 
 
 one. ' Where in the name of the can this be 
 
 hidden, and in a chapel too, by all that is holy ? I 
 like it not.' 
 
 ' And beshrew thee for a doited fool !' cried the 
 one called Niel in angry tones ; ' 'tis thyself alone 
 thou hast to thank that we are in this sorry plight ; 
 but hidden this must be. Go get thee one of those 
 pale lights over there ; 'twill not be a very heavy task, 
 methinks, to raise one of these rough stones and safely 
 hide what thou, as well as I, /;?w7t> must be hidden. 
 Go, craven ! What are ye lingering for ?' 
 
 ' Dost thou hear no sound ?' asked the other 
 trembling tones. 
 
 ' Naught but the dying wind and the beating of 
 your coward heart ! Go, fetch the light, and with
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 75 
 
 what speed ye^ may ! we must haste l)ack, and bear 
 us away from present pursuit' 
 
 As the man was feeling his way slowly and care- 
 fully to do Niel's bidding, a dreadful sickening sug- 
 gestion as to what they were so anxious to conceal 
 made poor Father Kelly tremble with horror ; beads 
 of cold perspiration gathered on his brow ; a sudden 
 faintness seized him, and ere the altar had been 
 reached by the ' murderer '■ — as in his fear he named 
 him — the priest became unconscious. How long he 
 had remained in this state he could not tell, for when 
 he revived the men had gone ; the first chill light of 
 an early morn in February was here and there making 
 its way into the chapel. All was still. Could he 
 have had some dreadful dream ? and the men, their 
 work, their talk — could this be merely a creation of 
 his own excited brain ? He raised his stiffened limbs 
 with difficulty from their cramped position, and pre- 
 pared to walk as quickly home as they could bear 
 him. He was feeble from cold, the previous day's 
 fatigue, and long fast, and had neither strength nor 
 courage to explore the chapel or see if there was 
 aught to prove whether all had been only fancy, or — 
 and he devoutly crossed himself — a dread reality. 
 He reached the door in safety, and had made his way 
 a few steps forward, feeling a good deal revived by the 
 fresh morning breeze, when something glittering on 
 the greensward arrested his attention, and, stooping, 
 to his horror he beheld a dagger stained with blood I
 
 76 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 He hurled the thing far from him towards the rocks 
 beyond. 
 
 He no longer doubted that some foul deed had 
 been done ; the faintness that had before attacked 
 him seemed to threaten him again. With steps still 
 trembling and feeble, he hurried on, and as he neared 
 the little thatched cottage that he called his home, he 
 saw that he was anxiously watched for by his sister, 
 Ay la and the serving-w^oman. Presently, like sounds 
 at a distance, he knew the women were plying him 
 with questions, to none of which he had either the 
 strength or the delsire to reply, whilst they at the same 
 time ministered to his wants, and piled the turf on 
 the fire in the wide hearth. 
 
 ' Pie hath not broken bread, it's like, since yester- 
 day at noon,' he heard the servant say ; ' 'tis just his 
 way to forget when he hath last fed.' 
 
 ' Thou art right, good Chrissie ; not since then 
 till now have I broke my fast ; but leave me to rest 
 and in quiet for a little — my brain seems all dis- 
 traught.' 
 
 Day wore away, and the evening shadows began to 
 lengthen ere Father Kelly could rouse himself from 
 the sort of half-stupor in which he had lain for hours, 
 taking obediently, however, from time to time the 
 nourishment the anxious women brought to his bed- 
 side. At last a natural quiet sleep fell upon him, and 
 in the morning he awaked refreshed, and feeling l:ut 
 little the effects of the fatigue, fasting, and exposure of
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 77 
 
 the previous day and night. The remembrance, strange 
 to say, of the scene in the chapel did not at first, or 
 for many minutes, come into his mind ; and when it 
 did he knelt, as in all times of difficulty or trial good 
 Christians ought to do, and in many prayers asked 
 guidance from above. He could now think it all out 
 more calmly, but before he had quite decided what 
 his first movement ought to be, his attention was called 
 off by hearing his sister angrily and imperatively 
 refusing admittance to some man who was evidently 
 equally determined to see him. 
 
 ' I tell thee, Evan, 'tis not to be thought of We 
 feared last night he would ne'er see the morn ; but, 
 praised be the saints ! a healthful sleep hath come to 
 him, and if he be not disturbed we look to see him as 
 well as he hath for some while been.' 
 
 The man was still pleading when, to Mistress 
 Kelly's dismay, her brother appeared, and at once 
 silenced her by assuming a stern, authoritative tone 
 that no one could withstand when he saw fit to use it. 
 When he learned that Evan bore a message from one 
 at the point of death, and ' vrho prayed his ghostly 
 help,' he at once took his staff, and, with the aid of 
 the messenger's arm, started on his errand of mercy, 
 leaving his poor sister muttering tearful remonstrances 
 — she feared to speak aloud. 
 
 "Tis but a short way, after all, and his step is 
 wondrous strong and firm,' she said to Ayla, who had 
 joined her at the door, and both watched the receding
 
 78 SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN VANNIN. 
 
 figures of the priest and his conductor as they made 
 their way towards the cottage where lay the dying 
 man. 
 
 ' What aileth him ?' asked Ayla ; ' and who is he ?' 
 
 ' None that we know. He hath lain all night at 
 the foot of some rocks, where Evan Collett and his 
 father found him and bore him home. He hath 
 suffered so badly from the fall — besides, I bethink me, 
 the young man said also from a wound — that recover 
 he cannot, and now he lies in great pain of body, and 
 what, alas ! is worse, of soul. His name he gives as 
 Niel. I know naught else !' 
 
 An hour or more had passed ere Father Kelly 
 returned, and the women, who had been anxiously 
 watching for him, were almost startled at the extra- 
 ordinary change in his appearance. He left them a 
 feeble, bent old man, requiring the aid not only of his 
 trusty staff, but the support of the arm of the peasant 
 who accompanied him. With tired eyes and wearied 
 looks he went his way, and now he stood before them 
 no longer bent and worn, but firm and erect ; the 
 eyelids were raised, showing eyes no longer weary, but 
 bright with a light that had not shone in them for 
 years — his whole aspect showing an energy and pur- 
 pose, a look of revived hope, of an awakened interest 
 in life, that amazed and, at the same time, perplexed 
 his sister and Ayla, who wonderingly regarded him. 
 
 He walked restlessly up and down, seeming scarce 
 conscious of their presence. 
 
 'Hath aught happened?' at last timidly inquired
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 79 
 
 Mistress Kelly. 'The injured man — how is he? 
 Hath he passed away ?' 
 
 'Ay,' replied the priest, "tis even so — and in 
 earnest contrition and true penitence for past sins. 
 But I pray thee, good sister, question me not, but 
 prepare what may be needful — I have a lengthy 
 journey to take without delay.' 
 
 'Where, brother?' 
 
 ' To Duglas, an' thou must know,' he rather testily 
 replied. 
 
 'To Duglas !' cried Mistress Kelly, with upraised 
 hands ; ' thou canst never compass it !' 
 
 'Of that I have no fear. I know mine errand — • 
 God and His saints be praised ! In Him I trust. 
 " Strength will be given me even as my day.'" 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ * "k 
 
 When Paul Balkason parted from Ayla he walked 
 with rapid strides towards the road he had to traverse, 
 not trusting himself to take even one look more at the 
 weeping girl he had just parted from. Quickly he 
 sped on his way, and, like the good priest, so deep in 
 thought, unconscious of the gathering clouds, the 
 moaning of the rising wind, or the brooding darkness 
 that hung over land and sea ; but while Father Kelly 
 was oblivious of the aspect of air, and sea, and sky, 
 wrapt in foreboding fears lest he should not in his life 
 see his beloved chapel adorned as he so devoutly 
 desired — Paul's thoughts ran riot upon battle scenes 
 — where he was ever foremost and bravest in the fight 
 — intermingled with gentler feelings as Ayla's tear-
 
 8o SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 Stained face came before him ; and again in imagina- 
 tion he felt her chnging arms about his neck. 
 
 ' My beloved !' he softly murmured, and turned 
 for a second to gaze at the place in the distance where 
 he had left her : and as he turned, something bright 
 fell at his feet. He stooped to pick it up, and to his 
 surprise found it was the amulet Ayla had shown him. 
 He now remembered for the first time he had for- 
 gotten to restore it, and mast have been carrying it all 
 these miles close clasped in his hand. 
 
 ' Alas ! how could I do this, and she doth prize it 
 so ! I fear me she will fret and think it lost 1 But I 
 will wear it in the battle that is before me. 'Twill be 
 a charm, my loved one, to guard thy Paul from all the 
 arrows, let them be sped by ever such skilled hands.' 
 
 He kissed it as he might some sacred relic, and 
 placed it round his neck, safely concealed from curious 
 or covetous eyes. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 'Tis needless to give in this short tale the history 
 of his lengthy walk, or details of the battle fought in 
 the Bay of Ramsey ; suffice it to say that, notwith- 
 standing the violence of the tempest to which he was 
 exposed, he arrived safely and unharmed in Duglas ; 
 and as to the engagement in w^hich he took part, do 
 not all who have written the island's history of that 
 period give full description of that famous contest? 
 What concerns us most in this story is, that Paul 
 escaped unscathed ; but not so Dugal, son of Summer- 
 led, who, being wounded in the shoulder from an
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 8i 
 
 arrow, fell thus helpless into the water. Paul saw, 
 even in the thick of the fight, his vain struggles, 
 wounded as he was, to save himself from drowning. 
 What was it in his face that brought Ayla so forcibly 
 before him, and by an irresistible impulse made him 
 plunge into the seething waters and bring his enemy 
 in safety on board his own galley ? then see that he 
 was tended, and his wound dressed and bound? 
 Why? Ayla's eyes had looked up to him. Ayla's 
 smile greeted him when in gracious terms the youth 
 thanked his preserver. 
 
 Whom he had saved he knew not till he was told 
 by them who were well informed : 
 
 ' 'Tis Dugal, son of Summerled, Moarmor of 
 Argyle; and this Dugal, aided by Torfinn, son of 
 Otter, Summerled would fain make King of the 
 Isles.' 
 
 Then he had saved the enemy of the good King 
 Godred. Well be it so ! Would he have it other- 
 wise ? No, no ! he could not have left one so like 
 his beloved to perish ! 
 
 A strong friendship grew between the rescuer and 
 the rescued ; but, alas ! poor Dugal gained not 
 strength. Each day, indeed, he grew weaker; and 
 when — as happened soon after the fight — a pacifica- 
 tion between Godred and Summerled was arranged, 
 there came to Mona Summerled's wife, a pale, sweet 
 woman, who looked at and spoke kindly to all ; and 
 she tended her son, with Paul and one of the good 
 monks from Russin, who was well skilled in medicine, 
 
 6
 
 82 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 but all without avail to save the life for earth — the 
 soul was called hence ! 
 
 One day as they watched, a strange look passed 
 over the white face that lay upon the silken pillows; a 
 faint voice murmured : 
 
 ' My little sister lives ! I would fain see her before 
 mine eyes close on all that now surrounds me. My 
 sweet sister ! Go thou, my friend, and fetch her.' 
 
 ' He hath gone in thought to the time when one 
 (he must have been my Lord's greatest foe and cruel 
 as the grave) stole this sister — a mere infant — whom 
 Dugal, like us all, loved tenderly,' sighed the weeping 
 mother. 
 
 ' Nay, nay ! she lives !' again said the dying youth. 
 * Let me but once see her before I go hence. ' 
 
 * He wandereth,' said the lady of Summerled. 
 
 ' It hath been told me — or did my spirit, so soon 
 to quit this body, see forms and scenes before hidden 
 from my sight ? I know not, but I pray thee believe 
 me. Send, and speedily, for my sister. I would fain 
 join Paul and Ayla's hands — they love each other.' 
 
 ' Ay la !' almost shouted Paul in his extreme sur- 
 prise. And he had never named her to Dugal. How, 
 then, could he know all this? And she was, then, 
 Dugal's sister — Ayla ! 
 
 ' 'Tis the name of our lost one, and of her he now 
 dreams.' 
 
 ' Dreams !' again cried Paul in excited tones. 
 ' Know you this ?' and he handed the amulet he had 
 worn to Dugal's mother.
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. S3 
 
 ' Know it ! know it ! May God and our Lady 
 help me ! My sweet one wore it always round her 
 neck. 'Twas once blessed, they say, by the good 
 St. Patrick himself! Whence came it?' 
 
 ' From Ayla I had it. Forgive me, lady ! Dugal 
 speaketh true. Knowing not who she was, I loved 
 her, and she hath promised to be mine. And comfort 
 thee, dear lady, about her, for indeed she lives, and is 
 and has been well cared for. But she and the good 
 priest shall tell thee all else, for I must haste. Time 
 flies ! and he who so prays to see her hath not long 
 to tarry here.' 
 
 The lady of Summerled, forgetful of her dying son, 
 rushed forward and held Paul by so close a grip he 
 could not well shake off. 
 
 ' She lives, you say ? Deceive me not 1' she cried. 
 ' But tell me where — where P 
 
 ' Mother, let him go ; 'tis all as he hath said. 
 How was this borne in upon me ? 'Tis certain not by 
 spoken words. And yet — and yet — before Paul's 
 assurance and his proof I knew this all. Let Paul go, 
 dear lady; delay him not, I pray thee.' 
 
 So Paul, unhindered, sped on his journey. We 
 will not pause to describe the rapture of the lovers' 
 meeting, or Ayla's delight that the mother she had 
 so longed to see was even now impatiently waiting to 
 embrace her. 
 
 Poor Mistress Kelly, whilst busying herself in the 
 preparations for this hasty departure, with trembling 
 fingers wiped away many a secret tear. 
 
 6—2
 
 84 SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN V ANN IN. 
 
 'What marvellous events have come to pass,' she 
 said, ' in these few days ! Ayla had ever the look 
 and ways of one who came of gentle blood, and 'tis to 
 me no wonder to hear she is the daughter of the great 
 Jarl Summerled. And he and our king are now made 
 friends. My brother in his old days gone a lengthy 
 journey ! and still absent — alas ! I know not where. 
 Ah me! what cometh next? My mind is full of strange 
 perplexity. What will we — Brian and I — and, indeed, 
 all here, do without the little maid we love so well?' 
 
 These broken sentences, at intervals, she spoke 
 aloud ; the old serving woman her only listener, for 
 Paul and Ayla had gone together to Keeihl Vaayle to 
 offer up prayers for the future, and many thanksgivings 
 for their reunion when so lately they had parted full 
 of fears lest they should never meet again. 
 
 At last, all being complete for the young girl's 
 journey, she bade farewell lingeringly to the good 
 woman who had been as a mother to her, and with 
 many a clinging embrace and promises to return as 
 quickly as might be to see the friends who had been 
 such true ones to her, and whom she grieved to think 
 she might be long ere she could again see. Mistress 
 Kelly and Chrissie soon sat them down before the 
 blazing turf and tried to collect their scattered wits, for 
 such strange events coming into the quiet life they 
 had hitherto led, and following so quickly one upon 
 another, left them still almost in doubt as to their 
 actual reality.
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 85 
 
 And now we have arrived at the last chapter of this 
 old-world story, and must as briefly as may be relate 
 what befell the various people whose fortunes we have 
 so far followed. 
 
 The priest's prolonged absence had caused anxious 
 watchings, night and day, to Mistress Kelly and the 
 good Chrissie. He at length returned, and, to their 
 surprise, seemed to give little heed to the tale they had 
 to tell of all that had befallen Ayla. After some slight 
 expressions of astonishment and interest, he apparently 
 banished it from his mind. 
 
 ' Why, Brian,' said his sister, ' thou dost not care, 
 methinks, about aught that hath come to our little 
 maid ! How is this — for surely thou didst love the 
 child ?' 
 
 ' Love the child ! ay, indeed, and truly ! May God 
 and His angels have her in their keeping ; but I have 
 now that in my mind and heart that leaveth no space 
 for vain regrets or other thoughts. With Ayla all is as 
 it should be. Now list, for I have that to tell that thou 
 wilt scare credit. Thou well knowest how that chapel 
 of Keeihl Vaayle was built — and yet how all these 
 years I have waited and prayed for what is still lacked 
 of completion ; and now God and the holy archangel 
 St. Michael be ever praised ! all that hath now come 
 to me— ay, all — all and more than one might think 
 was needful to adorn the interior. . . . Nay, stay, in- 
 terrupt me not, I pray thee ' — for Mistress Kelly, in 
 her amazement, had been about to break in with an
 
 86 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 overwhelming number of questions as to how any- 
 thing so marvellous had come to pass. In as few 
 words as possible the priest then gave the history of 
 his night in the chapel, of the intrusion of the men, 
 the burying of what he had feared was the body of 
 someone slain by them — then of his prolonged swoon. 
 ' And thou wilt remember,' he continued, 'how Evan 
 Collett came for me to see one sick unto death. He 
 who desired my presence was Niel, of whom I told 
 thee. What he and the other (one Haco, from 
 Norway) had buried for concealment was treasure of 
 silver, gold, and precious stones.' 
 
 ' Of silver, gold, and precious stones ! Why, 
 brother ' 
 
 Father Kelly held up a Avarning finger, which 
 effectually silenced his sister. 
 
 'This Niel — to whom of right belonged all the 
 treasure — that I may say Masses for his soul, hath 
 given it to me to do with it what seemeth me best. Part 
 have I put in safe keepmg, or that which it hath 
 brought, to give to those — and they, alas ! are ofttimes 
 many — who lack food and clothing ; for the rest, it 
 hath got me all the chapel needs, the place I love so 
 well — so well, indeed, that ofttimes in my dreams it 
 comes over me like some glad assurance, that when 
 I shall be called upon to yield my soul to Him who 
 gave it, I shall be found kneeling before that altar ; 
 there would I fain lay me down to rest when death 
 comes.'
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 87 
 
 'Nay, talk not thus,' tearfully pleaded his sister. 
 And as the priest was some while silent, she asked : 
 
 * But, brother, the other man of whom ye spake ; 
 what of him ?' 
 
 Father Kelly's face clouded over for a moment. 
 
 ' He hath, I fear me, passed away unshriven. He 
 would else, doubtless, have returned for the booty 
 hidden by him and Niel. He, ere they had gone 
 many steps upon their way, would fain have returned 
 and taken the treasure from where he had so unwill- 
 ingly helped Niel to hide it ; and so grave a quarrel 
 arose between the men, that Haco, in his wrath, drew 
 his dagger and wounded his companion in the side. 
 Niel fell, and Haco fled ; perchance he thought him 
 dead. Niel after awhile essayed to rise, in hope his 
 failing strength might carry him so far as to get to 
 where aid might be given him, and in so doing fell 
 o'er the rocks and got worse injury — the rest thou 
 
 knowest.' 
 
 ^ ^ ^c ^ ^ * 
 
 Three days after the priest's communication to his 
 sister the chapel, which had been for some while closed, 
 was reopened for the celebration of the Mass. Great 
 was the amazement of the worshippers, who had 
 gathered at the priest's bidding, at the change that 
 met their eyes ! The once rough, bare stone altar 
 now covered with a cloth of richest workmanship, 
 from which flashed many a precious stone. Gold and 
 silver glittered in the sunlight that stole in here and
 
 88 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN VAN N IN. 
 
 there through the narrow windows and shone upon 
 a beautifully executed figure of the Blessed Mother 
 arrayed in gorgeous robes, round her neck a chain of 
 pearls of untold value. 
 
 To all questions — and they were many — Father 
 Kelly deigned no reply, save : ' Would he, think ye, 
 who appeared to me, and bade me raise this chapel to 
 his honour, leave aught wanting to complete the 
 work? Be content, therefore, with what thou seest, 
 and ask me not whence or how all these things have 
 been acquired.' 
 
 His sister he had bound to silence, and, much as 
 she loved gossip, she well knew when her brother 
 7;iusf be obeyed. 
 
 When next we enter the chapel of Keeihl Vaayle, it 
 is to witness a ceremony that was then, is now, 
 and we think we may safely say ever will be, con- 
 sidered one of great interest. A marriage is to be 
 celebrated between Paul Balkason, son of the Lord 
 of Skye, and Ayla, only daughter of Summerled, 
 Moarmor of Argyle. By the express desire of the 
 intending bride and groom, they are to be given to 
 each other in the Chapel of St. Michael, Father 
 Kelly being the officiating priest. 
 
 Considering the rank and birth of those about to be 
 united, the gathering at the wedding was but small : 
 The Lord of Skye (his lady had not come with him to 
 Mona, and still abode at home), Ayla's parents, her
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. \ 
 
 89 
 
 three brothers, two maidens of high degree, of near W^ 
 to Fingala, wife of Godred — this same Fingala being 
 daughter of MacLaughhn, King of Ireland. These, 
 with some few of those who had manned the galleys 
 by which the bridal cortege had been conveyed from 
 Duglas, formed the whole party. 
 
 All were gorgeously arrayed in the fashion of the 
 period. If we describe the attire of the bride and 
 groom, it will, perhaps, suffice. Ayla, whose long fair 
 hair fell unconfined far below her waist, had over it a 
 veil that reached to the border of her upper skirt or 
 tunic. This tunic, which came to her knees, was of a 
 material much resembling in texture what we now call 
 silk — the colour, pale blue. It was gathered in at the 
 neck to a band richly embroidered with gold and 
 precious stones. A girdle, embroidered like the neck- 
 band, encircled the waist. The sleeves of this upper 
 dress hung loose and open from the shoulder, display- 
 ing the under ones, which came to the wrists in many 
 pleated folds, the material the same as the tunic, but 
 white in colour ; a long white skirt, which spread out 
 far behind, was much like a modern train. Unlike 
 present fashion, the shoes were of black leather, 
 crossed with coloured bands of blue, and tied round 
 the ankles like sandals. 
 
 Paul wore a cloak of cloth of gold, attached to the 
 shoulder by a strap or ribbon sliding through a clasp 
 — the clasp studded with precious stones ; the cloak 
 embroidered in red, the groundwork being gold in
 
 90 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 crlour. His tunic was of reddish brown, the shoes red. 
 vorked in with gold thread. Upon his head a 
 ' cornette,' or one of the round caps of the time, the 
 colour being red, the texture velvet. 
 
 In strong contrast to the gay clothing of the friends 
 and attendants of the Jarls of Argyle and Skye, was 
 the attire of the saintly Abbot of Russin, and his monks. 
 All were clad alike, for he and the twelve monks 
 who formed the community adhered strictly to the 
 example of life laid down for them by Conanus, first 
 Abbot of Russin — a life of mortification and self- 
 denial. Instead of linen, they had garments of rough 
 cloth ; neither did they wear shoes or sandals, and by 
 their own labour won their daily bread, and, except 
 on lengthy journeys, never partook of meat. 
 
 What few of the spectators could find room crowded 
 into the church; the rest had to content them by 
 standing in groups round the entrance-door, or else 
 raising themselves as best they could to look through 
 the windows ; but all were so quiet and silent, and 
 the voice of Father Kelly sounded out so clear and 
 strong, that those outside could follow the words of 
 the beautiful marriage service nearly as well as the 
 more fortunate who had been able to get within the 
 chapel. Paul's voice, too, could be distinctly heard, 
 and even the bride's low-spoken replies. Great was 
 the excitement when, the ceremony over, the whole 
 party filed out of the church ; and many were the 
 murmurs of admiration that greeted the newly-
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 91 
 
 married pair when they came into view. And as they 
 at once made their way to the shore to re-embark for 
 Duglas, they were escorted by a motley gathering of 
 all the people round, young and old alike. Many 
 blessings were invoked, and prayers put up for Ayla, 
 who had been beloved by all ; and when, ere she 
 stepped on board her husband's gaily-decked galley, 
 she turned to bid her friends farewell, the enthusiasm 
 of all found vent in a hearty cheer. As it died away, 
 the Abbot of Russin came forward, all making way 
 for him. As Ayla and Paul saw him approach, they 
 advanced to meet him, and, kneeling hand-in-hand, 
 craved his blessing. 
 
 * Dy der Jee dou e vannagh !' 
 
 The abbot, placing a hand on each bowed head, 
 replied, as they had addressed him, in Manx : 
 
 ' Dy bishee jeeah shin!' (God bless and prosper you!). 
 
 After this, some more last adieus, and then the 
 time came when all must embark. Mistress Kelly 
 and the priest, who were to accompany the party to 
 Duglas, got on board with Summerled, his lady, and 
 the Jarl of Skye. 
 
 Poor Mistress Kelly, who had scarce ever trusted 
 herself on aught in travelling but solid earth, was 
 sorely exercised in mind, and, regardless of the ill- 
 concealed mirth, instead of sympathy, her fears ex- 
 cited, deposited her fat person first on one of the soft 
 cushioned seats, and then on another, as her ideas 
 changed as to which might be the safest. At each
 
 92 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 movement of the boat as it rose or fell in the slight 
 motion of the inflowing tide, she would give plaintive 
 utterance to some fresh exclamations of terror : 
 
 ' Brian, Brian ! had we not best return ? O holy 
 Mother ! Methinks we are over-venturesome to pro- 
 ceed thus to Duglas.' 
 
 ' God send ye safe to dry land again !' cried the 
 anxious Chrissie, from the beach. 'Tar neose veih 
 shen ' (Come down from there). 
 
 The men at last pushed out from shore, just as 
 Mistress Kelly was again about to change her posi- 
 tion, and the poor lady's rotund person was at once 
 precipitated into the centre of the galley. 
 
 ' The saints be good to me ! this is a pretty pass for a 
 decent, proper woman like me, lying dow'n from where 
 I cannot lift me, and a parcel of grinning men around. 
 Oh, brother !' she cried, as the priest came to her 
 assistance, ' I would give my best gown and hood 
 to be again by our own chiollagh [fireside].' 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Many months have passed since the marriage of 
 Paul and Ayla, and they are now in their home in the 
 distant Isle of Skye. 
 
 Mistress Kelly, notwithstanding her misgivings, is 
 alive and well after her — as she view^ed it — daring 
 exploit of going by sea to and from Duglas. She 
 and Chrissie are seated at a table enjoying a supper of 
 Braghtan barley-cake and home-made cheese. 
 
 'The jough [ale] is none so good as it might be,'
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 93 
 
 observed Chrissie, as she took a lengthy draught of 
 the condemned Hquid. 
 
 Both women had become quite used to the priest's 
 absenting himself each night at sundown, and as he 
 returned, as a rule, very late, they rarely saw him till 
 the first meal the next morning. This night they sat 
 long over their supper, discussing what to them was a 
 never-ending subject of interest : the recent events of 
 Ayla's marriage ; the grand feast in Duglas ; and all 
 the gay doings there, of which Chrissie never tired of 
 listening, nor Mistress Kelly of reciting. 
 
 Their solitary light, after spluttering for awhile in its 
 stand, went out ; but the turf fire in the chiollagh 
 spread a ruddy pleasant glow through the room ; so 
 drawing near to it, they continued their chat, and were 
 deep in speculations as to what Ayla's home might be 
 like, and had just come to the conclusion that no 
 doubt she was even now longing to be back in Mannin, 
 when a faint sound as though someone had quietly 
 entered, then followed by a heavy sigh, caused both 
 women to turn hastily round, and there, standing near 
 the table, steadily and gravely regarding his sister, 
 stood the priest. Something in his appearance kept 
 both Mistress Kelly and Chrissie silent, and, as they 
 afterwards agreed, ' a strange fear and awe did possess 
 them.' How long a time passed they could never 
 say, till Mistress Kelly, in quavering tones, said : 
 
 ' Why, brother, either we are late, or else thou hast 
 returned sooner than is thy wont.'
 
 ■94 SHADOW LAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 The figure simply raised a beckoning finger, as 
 though requiring his sister to follow him, then moved 
 towards the door, and though it was fast closed, and 
 so, as they affirmed, remained, disappeared from their 
 sight. Both women involuntarily clasped hands in 
 sympathetic terror, and when just then the door 
 was suddenly opened, Chrissie gave vent to her fear 
 in a loud and prolonged scream. Great was the relief 
 they experienced when Evan CoUett stood before 
 them. 
 
 'The priest, where is he?' he asked, gazing in 
 astonishment at the excited women. ' My father 
 would fain see him. He is that sick and ill there 
 must be no delay.' 
 
 ' AVhere is he ? Ye may well ask ! In purgatory 
 or heaven belike,' sobbed Chrissie. 
 
 ' Ye fool, woman ! Are ye mad ? Tell me quick. 
 Is he within ?' And gathering from the confused 
 answers he received that Father Kelly might be found 
 at the chapel, he left them and hastened thither. 
 
 ' I will follow him,' said Mistress Kelly, who seemed 
 suddenly to have regained some composure. Not so 
 the servant, who clung to her, beseeching her to remain 
 where she was ; but her mistress shook her off, saying 
 almost angrily : 
 
 ' Thinkest thou I shall stay here when some evil 
 may threaten my brother ? He hath called me, and 
 shall I refuse to go to him ?' 
 
 And with wonderful firmness, considering her state
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 95 
 
 of inward tremor, she hastily donned her long cloak 
 and hood, and made haste to overtake Evan. Chrissie, 
 after balancing in her mind which was most to be 
 dreaded — remaining alone or adventuring herself with 
 her mistress — decided on the latter course. 
 
 The moon, which had not long risen, gave an un- 
 certain light, as it was every now and then obscured 
 by heavy driving clouds ; but these soon parted, and 
 the women could clearly see CoUett not far in advance 
 of them, but making such rapid strides there was 
 small hope of their soon getting up to him. The sea 
 now looked like a sheet of glittering silver, and the 
 island of St. Michael, with its chapel of Keeihl Vaayle, 
 for which all were making, stood out in dark and bold 
 relief against the shimmering waters. 
 
 Collett had disappeared into the chapel long before 
 the women could reach it, and when they arrived at 
 the door both paused, hoping they might see him 
 come out accompanied by the priest; but some 
 minutes passed, and, neither appearing, Mistress Kelly 
 summoned all her resolution, and, followed by the 
 trembling Chrissie, entered. By the light from the 
 many candles burning before the shrines they could 
 see Evan standing motionless and alone. Where, then, 
 was the priest? A nameless fear came over them, 
 and both stood still. Collett, turning, saw them, and, 
 hastily advancing, cried in agitated tones : 
 
 ' Back, back ! come not further, I pray thee.' 
 
 Mistress Kelly, dreading the worst, did not heed
 
 96 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 him, but, pushing past, made her way, followed by 
 Evan and Chrissie, to the end of the chapel. What a 
 sight there met her view ! Her brother lay on the 
 steps before the altar, dead, his face composed, and 
 with an expression of ineffable peace. In silence, 
 motionless, she gazed upon him, and her mind 
 travelled back to when, years ago — ah ! so many — his 
 face in life had worn all the beauty that it did now ; 
 but, alas ! the spirit that had then animated those pale 
 still features, and brightened the dark eyes beneath 
 those closed white lids, has fled ! Once more in 
 thought she is a little girl running by the side of the 
 tall handsome brother, of whom she was at once so 
 fond and so proud. Then their home rises before 
 her mental vision. Yes, there stands the pretty 
 cottage in the shadow of the trees that spread their 
 green verdure over the roof. Beyond stretched the 
 wood where in childhood she had played, and where 
 Brian oft had carried her when she grew weary. She 
 could even now hear the murmur of the little stream 
 that ran between green banks, near the well-trodden 
 footpath leading to the village near. Then came the 
 day when she, with her father and mother, had gone 
 to the chapel to hear Brian preach his first sermon. 
 
 'Come away! come away! dear misthress,' im- 
 plored the weeping Chrissie. 
 
 She turned, with wonder in her gentle blue eyes, a 
 dazed look over all her face, and, submissive as a little 
 child, let them lead her away. The worst had been
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 97 
 
 spared her : a wound in her brother's side from a 
 dagger-thrust, and from which the blood was slowly 
 trickling, she had not seen. 
 
 ^ * * * * * 
 
 It is a bright sunshiny morning in May — the hour, 
 five ; and as it is a holy day, the sacrist of the Abbey 
 of Russin has caused his beadle to ring the bells for 
 matins. In answer to its summons the monks come 
 from their various employments and file into the chapel. 
 
 Approaching the abbey is a narrow bridge, being 
 only about six feet and a few inches in breadth, but 
 wide enough in those days, when pack-horses were 
 almost the only mode of travelling or conveying 
 goods from place to place. This bridge has two arches, 
 through which flows the stream that turns the abbey 
 millwheel. Leaning over the side of this bridge, and 
 gazing into the water that dances and sparkles in the 
 sunlight, a figure may be seen on this morning, 
 strangely out of harmony with his surroundings. His 
 hair hangs long and unkempt at each side of his 
 hollow cheeks, minghng with the matted untrimmed 
 beard. His forehead is seamed with many a wrinkle, 
 and from beneath his shaggy brows his deep-set eyes 
 gleam forth with the wild fire of insanity. His clothes 
 hang in rags from his thin figure ; his feet are bare. 
 In one bony hand he clutches, rather than holds, a 
 stout staff; with the other he is nervously displacing 
 stone after stone from the wall of the bridge on which 
 he rests. 
 
 7
 
 98 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 Unheeded by him, the bells from the abbey ring 
 out on the air clear and musical. Birds are singing 
 their matin song, and the lowing of cattle in the 
 distant fields, the bleating of sheep, with now and 
 then the loud chanticleer of some neighbouring rooster, 
 all proclaim the waking up of a new day with its 
 duties, its pleasures, or its pains. And still that weird 
 figure stays there, never changing his position or 
 monotonous employment of casting stones into the 
 clear water below. Hours pass thus, till again the bell 
 from the abbey that has long been silent sounds out, 
 telling all within hearing that it has arrived at the hour 
 of eight, when prayers for the souls of the faithful 
 departed will be said. This seems to rouse him. 
 He raises his head in the attitude of listening, and, 
 muttering something, draws his close round cap low 
 down over his brows, and seizing his staff more firmly, 
 starts with rapid strides towards the abbey, where he 
 arrives just as the abbot and his brethren are again 
 betaking themselves to prayer. He then slackens his 
 speed and follows slowly into the chapel, and kneels 
 down quietly near the door. 
 
 Many a wondering glance is directed at the strange 
 gaunt figure, but he neither turns nor heeds, or, indeed, 
 seems conscious of the interest he is exciting. After 
 the Mass is over he watches his opportunity, and 
 catching hold of the abbot's sleeve as he passes, 
 says in a voice that rises almost to a shriek in its 
 intensity :
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. 99 
 
 * I deliver myself up for doing to death the good 
 priest, Father Kelly.' 
 
 He was at once surrounded by the excited wor- 
 shippers, who were ready to tear him limb from limb, 
 so beloved had his victim been, and so truly mourned 
 by all both far and wide. 
 
 At a sign from the abbot two of the monks went 
 forward and drew the wretched man away from those 
 who could scarce be restrained from avenging the 
 priest there and then. He was safely conveyed to 
 the abbey, but w'hen questioned, all that could be 
 gathered from his rambling answers was that he had 
 stabbed a man called Niel. When he saw^ him fall 
 dead, as he thought, a panic seized him, and he 
 fled, he knew not where ; that he fell and hurt his 
 head. After that he lost all power of memory. One 
 thought alone possessed his mind : that in some chapel 
 great treasure of gold and silver was hidden, of which 
 Niel had promised him a share ; and now that he was 
 dead, why should not all be his ? ' But from place to 
 place I wandered, and into every church that I came 
 near, but my poor brain could not direct me right ; 
 but when I found myself at Keeihl Vaayle all came 
 back to me.' 
 
 So far he had spoken with some coherence, but soon 
 relapsed into his former disconnected mutterings : 
 
 ' Eh ! eh ! don't ye see him kneeling there ? It's 
 Niel who has cheated me. He is not dead. Look 
 at that chain of pearls and the sacred vessels, all gold 
 
 7—2
 
 loo SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN V ANN IN. 
 
 and silver, shining in the Hght ! Strike, faithless 
 dagger ! strike to the traitor's heart !' he hissed through 
 his clenched teeth, and then suddenly relapsed into 
 silence. His hand, that had been raised in an attidude 
 of menace, sunk to his side. His head drooped. The 
 abbot made a signal to those around not to interrupt 
 him by word or movement. 
 
 ' Ah me ! that I should have done this foul deed — 
 slain the good man kneeling there in prayer ! What,' 
 said he — ' what gentle eyes he raises to mine, as I 
 stand trembling — conscience-stricken — before him ! 
 
 ' " Poor wretch ! what have I done to thee that thou 
 shouldst lay this sin upon thy soul ? Fly, ere it be 
 too late, and spend thy remaining years in prayer and 
 penance." 
 
 ' Ha ! quiet. He closes his eyes. He is dead — 
 dead! No, no. Again he speaks. He raises his 
 hands. Will he curse me? What will he say? "I 
 have finished the work Thou gavest me to do." He 
 sinks back again. He lies now where he first fell on 
 the steps of the altar. His pure soul hath gone where 
 mine will never reach ; but — but — I must fly : said he 
 not so ? but where — where shall I hide such a load of 
 guilt and misery ?' And the unfortunate creature made 
 a sudden movement as though to rush away, and when 
 he felt the detaining hands of the monks he made 
 one violent effort to free himself, in which he succeeded, 
 but only to fall helpless on the stone floor, where he 
 was a piteous sight to see, as he lay writhing and
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. MICHAEL'S ISLE. loi 
 
 foaming at the mouth in a fit. One after another 
 these seizures came upon him, till at last, utterly 
 exhausted, he was as one dead, and in this state was 
 carried away and put upon a bed in one of the cells. 
 Father Angus watched over and did the best he could 
 for him. In a few moments of consciousness he 
 answered, when asked his name : ' I am one Haco, 
 from Norway. May God have mercy on my soul !' 
 Ay, poor sin-stained soul ! Ere morning it had passed 
 away. 
 
 Mistress Kelly erelong partially recovered from 
 the shock of her brother's death, and gathered great 
 comfort by remembering and repeating to her sym- 
 pathizing listeners : 
 
 ' Did my sainted Brian not say to me that so well 
 did he love the place, that it ofttimes in his dreams 
 came o'er him as a joyful assurance that, when he 
 should be called to give up his soul to God, he might 
 be found, as he was kneeling, before the altar of 
 Keeihl Vaayle ?'
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD ; 
 
 OR, 
 CUR SHEN SHA IN GILLEY GLASH.
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The magic kiern rod— The heiress of Glen Auldyn — Her marriage 
 to Richard Clague — Richard meets a fairy who threatens 
 him— Wonderful effect of the kiern rod— Clague accepts 
 money from the elf. 
 
 It is not only in these more modern times that the 
 Isle of Man could boast of heiresses, for we are 
 credibly informed that nearly a century ago there was 
 one of these rarce aves to be found in the romantic 
 Glen of Auldyn, near Ramsey. She was blessed 
 with good looks and pleasing manners, so we may 
 well believe that chroniclers say true, when they tell 
 us that many young men, needy and otherwise, came 
 from all parts of the island to pay court to the fair 
 Jane Clucas. Like the Lady of the Lea, however, 
 when ' asked if she would wed,' she, too, could ' toss 
 her dainty head,' saying — though probably not just 
 in these words — 'Sirs, we would be free.' But let that 
 be as it may, she certainly preferred her liberty, until,
 
 io6 SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN V ANN IN. 
 
 unfortunately for her, there appeared upon the scene a 
 young man who was all that is prepossessing in appear- 
 ance. Tall and straight, with chestnut-coloured hair and 
 flowing beard ; such bright blue eyes and sunny smile, 
 that altogether his attractions proved too much for our 
 heroine, and 'in love fell she.' The successful swain, 
 Richard Clague, came from the neighbourhood of 
 Duglas, where he had been kept pretty hard at work on 
 his father's farm ; and as work was a thing for which 
 he had an especial aversion, he, on hearing of the 
 fair Jane, determined to lay siege to her heart and 
 possessions. She could not make even a show of 
 resistance, and as she was an orphan, and had no 
 near relatives to interfere or ask unpleasant questions, 
 two months' time from their first meetinor saw the 
 fair maid of Glen Auldyn transformed into Mistress 
 Richard Clague. 
 
 For the first year or so everything went prosperously, 
 as a trustworthy man, who had lived with the bride's 
 father, continued to manage affairs for the young 
 couple ; but one day, returning from the fair at Sulby 
 on a restive pony, and having, probably, had a rather 
 liberal allowance of jough (ale), he was thrown, his 
 head came into violent contact with a rough stone wall 
 at the side of the road, and the poor man was picked 
 up quite insensible and borne to his home, where, 
 after lingering for a fev/ days in a state of semi-con- 
 sciousness, he breathed his last. Mrs. Clague took 
 greatly to heart the death of her father's and her own
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. 107 
 
 faithful servant, and did her best to console his widow,, 
 who was now quite alone in the world. 
 
 Richard, though strongly urged to the contrary by 
 his wife, determined to take the management of every- 
 thing into his own hands instead of looking out for an 
 experienced, trustworthy man to fill poor Ned Criggal's 
 place. A year's intercourse had given Mrs. Clague a 
 pretty clear insight into her husband's character, and 
 what she knew was not likely to impress her with 
 much confidence as to things prospering under his 
 supervision. For the last few months he had been 
 rarely at home ; even the birth of a little son, now just 
 eight weeks old, had failed to steady him, or keep 
 him from his wandering life. Wherever in the island 
 there was a fair or a sale of cattle, there Richard was 
 to be found, coming home generally, after absences 
 more or less prolonged, to his patient, long-suffering 
 wife with empty purse, a sick head, and by no means 
 an amiable temper. 
 
 Of course under these circumstances things could 
 not go very prosperously, and matters progressed 
 rapidly from bad to worse, so that at last the Clagues 
 were threatened with an execution, or, as it was then 
 and is now called in Manx parlance, being ' sold up.' 
 Till now Richard had tried to blind his eyes and shut 
 his ears to the true state of affairs ; but he could no 
 longer get money to follow his various pleasures, 
 indeed, he seemed now on the point of being home- 
 less. He, his wife, and Mrs. Criggal sat far into the
 
 io8 SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN VANNIN. 
 
 night consulting and talking over what could be done 
 to stave off, if possible, the sale of their furniture, and 
 what little in the way of stock still remained on the 
 farm. At last, after various schemes had been pro- 
 posed, and in turn rejected, it was decided that but 
 one plan seemed feasible, and that was that Richard 
 should try and induce his elder brother to lend him 
 sufficient money to pay the most pressing of the 
 creditors. This brother had succeeded his father on 
 the farm at Onchan, and, being active and energetic, 
 was now a thriving, well-to-do man. 
 
 Richard prepared to start on the afternoon of the 
 following day. Things being so changed, he could no 
 longer mount a sturdy steed, and ride where he pleased, 
 but must e'en ' foot it ' all the way. He bid his wife 
 and child farewell, and she and Mrs. Criggal followed 
 him to the door to wish him luck. 
 
 ' I must just get a rod for my brother's boy, Charley,' 
 he said ; ' he was at me, last time I was at Onchan, 
 for one.' 
 
 Having selected a stick to his liking from a kiern- 
 tree near, he cut it, and, waving an adieu to the anxious 
 women at the door, he started on his road. 
 
 ' I have not,' thought he, as he trudged along, 
 ' acted rightly to my poor wife. It's a pity, just for 
 her, that she ever came across me.' 
 
 He paused in his reflections for a moment, and for 
 the time felt very repentant as a vision of the pale, 
 careworn face he had left at the door looking after
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. 109 
 
 him came before his mind's eye ; and then yet 
 another picture, when first he knew her, bright and 
 rosy, full of life and animation. 
 
 'Ah, well!' he said, 'please God, if I'm spared 
 and helped out of this trouble, I'll try and do different, 
 an' make up to her an' the boy for all the time 
 that's gone in pleasures, an' drinking, and such-like — 
 I'll turn to an' work, an' begin life again.' 
 
 ' Begin life again, will ye, Richard Clague ?' echoed 
 a voice, apparently at his elbow. But as Richard 
 looked in all directions to find the speaker, no one 
 was to be seen. 
 
 ' I was thinkin' that hard, I must have fancied I 
 heard someone, for there's no one near, for sure.' 
 
 The day had been a misty one. And as it was the 
 middle of January, and about five o'clock, the light 
 was dying out, and Clague could not see very far 
 before him. On each side were hedges of no con- 
 siderable height, with fields stretching beyond ; the 
 road seemed, as well as he could tell, as he glanced 
 from side to side, deserted save by himself. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, fancy it was,' he repeated, when again 
 the same voice took up what he had said — ' Yes, yes, 
 fancy it w^as ' — and Richard, looking quickly to where 
 the sound came from, beheld, immediately in front of 
 him, and scarcely reaching to his knees, a man, to 
 judge from his wrinkled visage and grizzled hair and 
 beard, but not, apparently, quite two feet high. As 
 Clague gazed in wonder at this strange apparition,
 
 no SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 the creature placed himself in front of him, as though 
 to bar his further progress. 
 
 ' Go back, Richard Clague, from whence you 
 came !' squeaked the pigmy ; and as Richard tried to 
 proceed on his way, he began to dodge backwards and 
 forwards in front, evidently with the intention of pre- 
 venting him, and tired and depressed as Clague was, 
 he could hardly help smiling that so small and puny a 
 creature should think he could thus stay his progress. 
 
 'Now, noWj my man,' he said, 'this little game has 
 gone on long enough ; suppose you move to one 
 side.' 
 
 ' Not for you, or any mortal man, will I move 
 where I do not choose to go,' cried the dwarf; ' so go 
 back to your home, your wife, and your child, Richard 
 Clague, idle do - naught as you are.' And while 
 Richard stared in amazement, the little man burst 
 into a fit of elfin laughter that seemed to be echoed 
 on all sides. Clague was no coward, but suddenly to 
 find himself — as he could no longer doubt — sur- 
 rounded by a company of ' the good people ' was too 
 much even for his nerves ; so pushing the creature in 
 front of him hastily to one side, with the rod he held in 
 his hand, he prepared to run from the haunted spot as 
 quick as his legs could carry him, when he was 
 arrested by a yell from the elf the instant the stick 
 touched him, and to his intense surprise the creature 
 fell to the ground, where he lay writhing for some 
 moments, apparently in great torture. Clague bent
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. in 
 
 over him with the intention of raising him, but before 
 he could do this the mannikin jumped up, still shriek- 
 ing, and, giving one terrified glance at the kiern rod, 
 he cried in Manx, ' Touch me not ! touch me not ! 
 Cur shen sha in gilley glash (Give that to the Lockman),' 
 at the same time throwing a purse to Clague. The 
 next instant he vanished over the hedge and was lost 
 to sight. 
 
 With the purse in one hand and the rod that had 
 worked this magic spell in the other, Clague made the 
 best of his way to his brother's. Great was the 
 interest excited when, on his arrival at the farm, he 
 recounted his adventures. 
 
 On turning out the coins and counting them, they 
 were found to amount to exactly the sum necessary to 
 free the Clagues from debt. 
 
 Early next morning Richard mounted a horse lent 
 him by his brother, and with a light heart hastened 
 to his home, choosing, however, a different route from 
 that of the previous night. Quickly as he rode, he 
 found he had not arrived a moment too soon. Betsey, 
 her apron thrown over her head, was rocking herself 
 to and fro with loud lamentations : ' Och, och, that I 
 should live to see the day — an' the fines' bit o' Ian' in 
 all the counthry roun' — ah well, well !' 
 
 The gentle, patient wife, tears slowly coursing down 
 her pale cheeks, sat near the open hearth, doing her 
 best to soothe the baby, whose loud cries added to the 
 general misery of the surroundings. Standing a little
 
 112 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 removed from the women was the 'man in possession/ 
 who, notwithstanding the wretchedness his presence 
 created, was enjoying, with unimpaired appetite, a 
 repast of oat-cake and cheese, and washing these 
 down with copious draughts of jough. 
 
 ' Cur shen sha in gilley glash.' To the dehght of 
 his weeping wife, Clague at once followed the fairy's 
 injunction, and her surprise was great when she 
 learned how the money had been obtained. Mistress 
 Criggal, however, shook her head ominously, and 
 uttered many well-known proverbs about the ill luck 
 that invariably attends the using of ' fairy money ' or 
 gifts. 
 
 From that day Clague set to work in earnest to 
 retrieve the past, and so successfully that ere long, by 
 his industry and steady habits, he had won back all 
 and more than he had squandered. 
 
 The kiern rod,* it is hardly necessary to say, he did 
 not give to his nephew. It was preserved carefully in 
 the family, and to some purpose, as will be shown in 
 the next chapter. 
 
 * The fairies, it is said, cannot abide the touch of the kiern. or 
 mountain-ash.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The unlucky fairy money — Betsey Criggal — The changelin". 
 
 It is now six years since Clague was relieved from 
 his difficulties by the fairy gift, and he has kept so 
 steadily to work and to home, and been withal so 
 kind a husband, that his wife— who has never varied 
 in her faithful affection for him — has almost forgotten 
 the two unhappy years of her wedded hfe, or has 
 come to regard them as little more than a painful 
 dream, best banished from the mind. But though 
 Richard is all she could desire, and money troubles 
 and anxieties are no longer felt, yet there is one source 
 of sorrow and disappointment to both the Clagues and 
 their faithful, sympathizing servant and friend, Betsey 
 Criggal. Three children had been born to them — to 
 all appearance, fine, healthy babies — and who, for a 
 month or two, seemed to thrive, and gave every 
 promise of living, when, without apparent cause, they 
 would droop and fade away before their parents' eyes. 
 Medical men from Ramsey, and Duglas too, were 
 consulted, and prescribed to no purpose ; and though 
 doctors, as a rule, are never puzzled about the ailments
 
 114 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 of their patients — or rarely confess to so much — yet 
 the insular .^^sculapii had to avow themselves un- 
 able to do anything, and the babies were too young 
 for the usual prescription of a baffled doctor, 'Try 
 change of air !' And now there is again trouble and 
 anxious watching. Their fourth infant — a little girl — 
 is, as Betsey says with many tears and shakings of 
 the head, 'going like the rest.' There had been 
 great hopes of this child being spared to them, as 
 she was now six months older than the longest-lived 
 of her predecessors. Till the day of which we write 
 she had seemed bright and well. Richard and his 
 wife started betimes in the morning to attend a fair at 
 Kirk Michael, leaving the infant in perfect confidence 
 with Betsey. 
 
 When the hour approached at which she expected 
 her master and mistress to return, the faithful woman, 
 after hushing her precious charge to sleep, placed her 
 gently in her cot near the fire, and then busied 
 herself in preparations for supper, laying everything 
 on the table in the same room as where the child lay 
 peacefully and quietly, one tiny dimpled arm showing 
 above the patchwork quilt that covered the cradle. 
 Her preparations all complete, Mistress Criggal took 
 up a stocking she had been knitting, and with this 
 stood for a few moments at the door plying her 
 needles, and glancing now and then in the direction 
 in which she expected her master and mistress to 
 appear. ' They're late, surely,' she thought ; ' but as
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. 115 
 
 like as not they'll be gone to Misthress Kneale's — 
 they've been promisin' times to put a sight on her 
 when they'd be her way.' 
 
 About ten minutes more she waited, and then 
 returned to the kitchen. All was apparently as she 
 had left it, the kettle singing above the fire in the 
 wide ' chuilleig,' the large red tailless cat purring an 
 accompaniment. On the table the bread and home- 
 made cheese and jough, all ready waiting, and baby 
 evidently still sleeping, for no sound or movement 
 came from the cradle. The little arm had disappeared 
 under the coverlet, the only apparent alteration in the 
 state of things since Betsey had left the room. She 
 roused up the fire, and, tucking up her blue petticoat, 
 seated herself before the glowing embers, to wait with 
 what patience she might the return of her people 
 from the fair. Ere long she succumbed to the sooth- 
 ing influences surrounding her, and fell into a quiet 
 doze. The stocking on which she had been engaged 
 slipped to the ground, and presently she gave unmis- 
 takable indications of sleep, joining by vigorous 
 snores in keeping up the chorus with puss and the 
 kettle ! However, s/ie declared after that she was not 
 ' that soun' ' but that any noise or movement in the 
 room — especially if near the carefully-tended baby — 
 would have instantly roused her ; that she at once 
 wakened from her semi-slumber on hearing the 
 approach of the cart in which Mr. and Mrs. Clague 
 were driving to the door ; that the first idea she had 
 
 8—2
 
 ii6 SHADOW LAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 of anything being amiss was when she was startled 
 from her gossip with ' Billy the Lag ' — who had had a 
 lift in the cart, and was giving her some of the news 
 of the day — by hearing her mistress cry, ' Betsey, 
 Betsey, come here, quick !' and when she obeyed, she, 
 like the poor mother, stood horror-struck and dis- 
 mayed at the sight that met her view. Richard, who 
 was just going round to the yard with the horse and 
 trap, threw the reins to the man standing near, and 
 rushed into the house, startled by the cries of the 
 women. What was that piteous object that lay before 
 him — in the cot where so often he had gazed with 
 delight on his child, his beautiful, ruddy, bright-look- 
 ing babe, as she had lain in rosy smiling slumber, or 
 else with wide-open blue eyes, following the move- 
 ments of all they rested upon : the waving of the rose- 
 bushes, laden with their blushing scented blossoms, 
 that peeped in at the window ; the birds or butterflies 
 that flitted hither and thither, or, sweeter still, when 
 those same looks fixed themselves upon his face in 
 apparent recognition and love, while his darling cooed 
 forth some song in baby tongue ? 
 
 The child lay where Betsey had placed her; but 
 instead of the healthy, chubby^ — indeed, one might 
 say lovely — specimen of infancy, that she had been 
 when put into her bed, she now looked thin, pinched, 
 and wrinkled. Long skinny arms lay motionless at 
 her side, whilst the once sparkling eyes seemed to 
 have sunk into her head, from whence they glared as
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. 117 
 
 if in anger and dislike at the trio who stood near, 
 gazing in dire distress and horror at the spectacle 
 before them. It seemed impossible to realize, and 
 more like some awful dream from which they would 
 awake, so sudden, so awful was the change. 
 
 ' Oh, Richard, Richard ! what can we do ? Oh, 
 my darling ! my boggey veg millish ! veg vien !' the 
 poor mother cried in her anguish, as she tenderly 
 lifted the poor stricken one in her arms. 
 
 ' Do P exclaimed her husband in agonized tones, 
 ' do nothin', nothin' ; there's some curse or spell upon 
 us ! It's that unlucky fairy money that I had to 
 use. Och, och ! a judgment upon me for the bad 
 life I'd been livin.' But the Lord be good to us ! 
 what had you done,, or the poor childher either, for 
 that matther, that the like should come upon ye ? Oh 
 dear ! oh dear !' and as he thought of the little 
 creature he had left crowing in the nurse's arms, and 
 to all appearance in perfect health, when he and his 
 wife had driven away that day, and saw it now in this 
 pitiable state, strong man though he was, he broke 
 down utterly ; whilst Betsey rocked herself backwards 
 and forwards, uttering loud lamentations. What had 
 so lately been a bright, happy household was changed 
 into one of sorrow and deepest anxiety. 
 
 All night long the wTetched mother, father, and 
 their servant sat up trying all possible and ' impossible ' 
 remedies, but without avail. The child lay much in 
 the same state, unless when anyone touched or moved
 
 iiS SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN V ANN IN. 
 
 it, when it would give utterance to a low snarling cry, 
 and the eyes would settle upon whoever meddled with 
 it with the glare of an enraged animal prepared to 
 spring upon a foe. How could the hitherto soft, 
 gentle blue eyes wear such a look? What agony to 
 the watchers' hearts to see these restless orbs blazing 
 like coals of fire in the dimly-lighted room, never 
 resting long anywhere, but always charged with loads of 
 hate and enmity wherever they travelled. And thus 
 the weary night wore on, and a new day began, with- 
 out bringing one ray of hope or comfort to the dis- 
 tressed household.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The mysterious Irishwoman. 
 
 The proverbial rapidity that attends the transit of ill 
 news was not unverified in this case, for by early 
 morning the Clagues' house was filled with sympathiz- 
 ing friends and neighbours, who all in turn offered 
 advice or consolation. Conspicuous amongst them, 
 not only from her extraordinary appearance, but also 
 that, while each and every one suggested various 
 specifics, this woman stood aloof, silent and motionless 
 — a tall, gaunt figure. Her dark, deep-set eyes were fixed 
 upon the sufferer. She was enveloped in a long cloak 
 of some thick woollen material reaching nearly to her 
 heels. For head-gear she had tied a handkerchief or 
 shawl of bright colours under her chin. From 
 beneath this some black locks of hair, slightly tinged 
 with gray, escaped over her forehead and deep-set 
 eyes. There, towering above all the rest, she might 
 have passed for some fateful sibyl about to pronounce 
 the doom of the Httle one, on whom for the most part 
 her eyes rested. 
 
 In all the crowd none seemed to observe her
 
 I20 SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN VANNIN. 
 
 specially with the exception of Betsey, and as steadily 
 as the woman watched the child, so steadily did 
 Betsey gaze on her. 
 
 The sibyl — for so we may call her for the present — 
 at last became conscious of Mistress Criggal's stare : 
 slowly raising her eyes, she signed to the serving 
 woman to follow her from the room. This Betsey 
 quickly did, her tall guide leading the way with such 
 rapid strides that the short rotund woman following 
 found it hard to keep up with her, waddle as fast as 
 she might ; nor did the stranger pause until they had 
 completely skirted the buildings at the back of the 
 house, and stood beneath the very tree from which, 
 years before, Richard had cut the memorable kiern rod. 
 
 ' Why, Misthress Ryley,' panted Betsey ; ' oh loss, 
 I'm jus' kilt at ye — well, well — to — ugh — puff — to 
 think o' seein' ye, afther all these years — loss save us — 
 ugh — wondhers '11 never cease — ugh — ugh — no more 
 'n they won't — ugh — ugh — will I ever get the breath 
 in me agen ? Well, as I was sayin,' to think o' seein' 
 you afther all these years — yer an uncommon sthrong 
 wumin ; but yer changed, changed terrible ;' and 
 Betsey raised her eyes half timidly to the formidable 
 figure scowling down upon her. 
 
 ' And so are you changed — changed terrible,' 
 echoed Madam Ryley, in by no means suave tones. 
 Alas for the credit of the sex ! what woman, be she 
 what she may, can take calmly any uncomplimentary 
 allusion to her personal appearance ?
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. 121 
 
 ' An' where have ye been all these years ?' inquired 
 Betsey, in a tone that reflected the huffiness of her 
 companion's. 
 
 ' Where but in my own counthry — Ireland. Were 
 not my husband and my two fine lads drowned, in those 
 cruel waters that are shining so deceitfully still now, in 
 Ramsey Bay. Could I stay near to hear the winds 
 howl above their ocean grave, or watch the waves pass 
 over, either in fury or treacherous calm, the spot where 
 they had gone down — down — never to gladden mine 
 aching eyes with sight of them again ?' 
 
 'Ay yes, sure,' said Betsey, 'it was very hard 
 on ye.' 
 
 ' Hard on me, O God !' cried the woman ; but, 
 suddenly changing her tone, she said : ' But enough 
 of this, my good creature ' — and, notwithstanding the 
 incongruity of her dress and general appearance, there 
 was something in her manner that seemed to bespeak 
 her of a grade, in education certainly, and probably 
 birth also, above her companion — ' enough, I say, of 
 me and my concerns — except this : that great kind- 
 ness was shown me (the remembrance rests warm in 
 my heart) by the father of the poor woman now in 
 such grievous trouble, otherwise I had never set foot 
 in this spot again, fraught with such sad memories to 
 me! There are those' — and here the woman's eyes 
 assumed the painful glare, and her expression the look 
 of mystery and cunning, that betoken an intellect un- 
 settled — 'there are those that do my bidding, and
 
 122 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 from them I have heard from time to time how it 
 fared with the daughter of my true fiiend and her 
 belongings. I should have come long ago to give mine 
 aid in their season of trial, but I was warned not to 
 do so ; but now I am permitted.' 
 
 ' God be good to us !' murmured Betsey ; ' I thrust 
 she has no deelin's with the devil or the little 
 people !' 
 
 ' What did ye say ?' sternly demanded Madam 
 Ryley. 
 
 'Nothin', nothin'.' 
 
 ' Well, listen then while I tell you what must be done 
 to restore to the Clagues their child— for that is none 
 of theirs, but a fairy changeling. Do you under- 
 stand ?' 
 
 ' The, the [Yes, 3'es] I' replied Betsey shortly. 
 
 ' Well, attend then ' — for poor Mistress Criggal was 
 trembling from head to foot, glancing here and there 
 in the uncertain morning light, as if expecting to be- 
 hold some ghost or goblin, or, at all events, some 
 malignant fairy standing near. 
 
 ' Oh, I'll attend enough ; but could'n I lis'en to all 
 this in the house ?' 
 
 ' No ; where we are I'll say my say,' answered the 
 woman, in the tone of command she had assumed 
 from the first. 'As I told you before, that child is 
 no mortal, but one of a fairy brood, and with you it 
 very much rests whether the true child is restored. To 
 ask the parents themselves to do what is necessary
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. 123 
 
 would be mere waste of breath, believing as they do, 
 strange as it is, that the creature in the room beyond 
 is their own offspring. Prompt and severe measures 
 have to be taken, with no shirking of any suffering to 
 the elfling. Do you listen ?' she asked severely — for 
 Betsey for some time had turned her head away, wath 
 her eyes fixed anywhere but on the speaker, whilst 
 she kept rubbing one hand backwards and forwards 
 over her mouth, her whole expression the while 
 denoting anything but attention or willing assent to 
 whatever Mistress Ryley might be pleased to propose. 
 
 ' I'm Hs'enin' enough,' she broke out indignantly ; 
 ' an' I'm wondtherin' at ye, or the likes of ye, thinkin' 
 ye can teach me what to do. If the child is changed, 
 as ye say, it is'n' to Irelan', or the Ukes of Irelan' — a 
 dirt of a place like that — that any Maitx body would 
 have to go to larn what to do with the good people, 
 nor, for the matther of that, for anything else, I'm 
 thinkin'. The child is changed for sure — an' me an' 
 a neighbour woman — a decent Ma7ix body, too — is 
 goin' to thry an' get the masther an' misthress to bed 
 to-night, an' then w^e know what to do.' 
 
 ' I don't believe even a surmise of the truth entered 
 your mind till you learnt from me w^hat is the case.' 
 
 * Mebbe not, mebbe not !' testily replied Betsey, her 
 indignation getting the better of her fears ; ' there's no 
 tellin' what bad things, shurmises, or the like, may 
 come to them as is in bad comp'ny. But I can't be 
 hintherin' no longer. I must go to see for some
 
 124 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN, 
 
 breakfast for the folks that's in, an' look to the 
 cows.' 
 
 ' Then go, you ignorant woman ; I must do what I 
 can without your aid.' 
 
 ' Ye'd betther not meddle nor make in what doesn' 
 consarn ye, or lay a finger on the child ; ye'll get no 
 help from me,' 
 
 ' I have those to help me that you wot not of,' said 
 the Irishwoman, in tones so grandiose and command- 
 ing that the good nurse's supernatural fears again 
 asserted themselves, and she retraced her steps to the 
 house in very undignified haste.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Different modes adopted to get rid of the changeling, and how 
 this was accomplished — Conclusion. 
 
 The eventful night arrived. Betsey and her coadjutor 
 are seated within the wide open hearth, upon which 
 a turf fire is brightly burning, and over this is 
 suspended a large iron pot, in which is some mysterious 
 decoction, that both the women are watching with 
 great interest, each in turn giving it a stir with a long 
 wooden stick cut for the purpose. 
 
 ' An' how did ye get them to bed at all, at all ?' 
 inquires the 'decent Manx body,' as she slov/ly 
 works away at the uninviting-looking liquid. 
 
 ' I toult them that if they'd jus' take a spell of lyin' 
 down, they'd be the betther able to look afther the 
 li'le [little] one, when I would be takin' a bit 
 o' res' meself (I slep' whiles in the day, ye see). Well, 
 wis that the masther, he persuaded the wife, an' says 
 he, " Betsey," says he, when he got her out o' hearin', 
 " I'll slip down to you jus' d'recly," says he ; but 
 between you an' me. Mistress Cain, I'd putten some- 
 thing in their supper, jough that '11 keep them quite 
 [quiet] a few hours, I'm thinkin'.'
 
 126 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 * You're shockin' claver about herbs, I've heard 
 tell,' responded Mistress Cain, looking with due 
 respect at her companion. 
 
 ' Well it 'ud be quare if I wasn', for my mother was 
 wontherful for them things, an' her mother before 
 her — 'deed, there wasn' the likes of her in th' islan" ; 
 they'd be sendin' for her from miles roun' when any- 
 thing went wrong with man or beas' [beast], an' she'd 
 be curin' them mos'ly. Well, now you're wantin' to 
 know what I put them herbs an' all them eggshells 
 into yonther pot, an' the shovel in the fire heatin' at 
 me an' all. I'll tell ye then, an' lis'en, woman ;' and 
 as Betsey lowered her voice to a whisper, her assistant 
 brought her head in close proximity to hear. ' When 
 this here pot stuff begins to boil and to splutther, I'll 
 take yon ' — and a slight nod towards the cradle in- 
 dicated that the unfortunate infant was the ' yon ' 
 meant — ' an' put it sittin' near where it can see the 
 stuff boilin' : you an' me '11 slip to the doore, an' if 
 then it '11 spake words, we'll do no more than go back, 
 take out the red-hot shovel from th' ashes, put the 
 chile [child] on to it, an' run with it out to the dung- 
 heap. 
 
 ' Oh loss !' shuddered the other woman ; ' that 
 seems terrible cruel.' 
 
 'Och, tut ! woman, don't be soft,' said Betsey ; ' it's 
 not no mortal babe at all — at all. It's on'y — you 
 know what wis'out my sayin' it ; and then we'll get 
 our own chile back again, sure enough.'
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. 127 
 
 ' I'm not likin' doin' it someway, though,' objected 
 Mrs. Cain. 
 
 The two women after awhile became so engrossed 
 in their talk that they were quite unconscious of the 
 faint sound of the door, or even the breath of chilly 
 night air that stole in as it opened. With all her 
 wisdom, Mrs. Criggal had forgotten to fasten out in- 
 truders ; for in those days the Manx rarely or ever 
 locked or barred their houses, the door being left ' on 
 the latch ' all night. 
 
 The two conspirators would have been dismayed 
 could they have seen who had come in so stealthily 
 upon them — the tall figure of the Irishwoman, im- 
 perfectly revealed in the dim light. The fire during 
 the cooking of the strange compound had burnt very 
 low, whilst the steam from the pot filled the little 
 kitchen with a dense smoke, through which the faint 
 glimmer of the ' slut,' or light burning in a platter on 
 the table, only indicated its whereabouts, without at 
 all illuminating the surroundings. 
 
 Slowly and noiselessly Mrs. Ryley advanced till she 
 had safely ensconced herself in the dark corner at the 
 left-hand side of the hearth, between Mrs. Cain and 
 the cradle where lay the changeling. Her eyes, that 
 glowed and burned beneath her shaggy brows, seemed 
 to emit rays of baleful light, w^re fixed upon the two 
 women, whilst she listened, scarcely breathing, and 
 with strained attention, to their plans. In this way an 
 hour may have passed. Betsey ceased her low-spoken
 
 128 SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN V ANN IN. 
 
 communications, and, bending over the pan, said more 
 audibly in tones of suppressed excitement : 
 
 ' Th' eggs is risin', th' eggs is risin'. Now, Misthress 
 Cain, ye'll help me as I tell ye. It won't be minutes 
 till all's ready.' 
 
 ' I'm not likin' it,' whimpered the poor woman. 
 
 ' 'Ut nonsense — lend us a han', will ye. Don't ye 
 know it's no real child ye've got to do with ? If I'd 
 a'-known ye'd a-been that tenther for nothin', I'd a' got 
 someone else to help me.' 
 
 ' And if I'd a-known it was the likes o' this ye 
 were wantin' me for to do, I wouldn' a' come a foot 
 o' the road to ye.' 
 
 To thisBetseygaveonlya contemptuous sniff, saying: 
 
 ' Now, ye fool woman, do ye know^ what I'm wantin' 
 ye to do ? Jus' to give me a lift with this heavy pot, 
 so as I can put it where it will be seen by — well, 
 them as is to see it ; then to come out to the doore 
 was me. I can do the res' without no help from no 
 one ; so you can go your ways home then. Give us 
 a han', and make haste.' 
 
 Just as Mrs. Cain W'as giving her very unwillingly- 
 rendered assistance, Mistress Ryley turned to the cot 
 and began hastily and most unmercifully pinching and 
 slapping its unfortunate occupant, the poor infant 
 giving noisy protest in the most awful yells. 
 
 ' It's seen th' eggs ! It's seen th' eggs !' cried 
 Mistress Criggal triumphantly. * Didn' ye hear it call 
 out " Take me away !" — as plain as plain ?'
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. 12 
 
 I don' know — oh loss, safe us ! this is terrible un- 
 
 common 
 
 ' Didn' ye hear it call out " Take me away," I ax 
 ye ?' Betsey again indignantly cried, to her trembling 
 companion. 
 
 ' The, the [Yes, yes], mebbe I did. Oh loss !' 
 
 ' Hoult on to the pot, then, wis me, while I ' 
 
 But what further Mistress Criggal was going to say is 
 lost to the world ; for, to her and Mrs. Cain's dismay, 
 Clague rushed into the room carrying the kiern rod 
 that had before befriended him. 
 
 ' Help me, woman ! help me, for God's sake !' 
 shrieked Betsey, ' or all will be spoilt ;' and, throwing 
 the pot down, both women ran forwards and seized 
 upon Richard, but not before he had time to place 
 the rod over the cradle, from whence these dreadful 
 cries still issued, accompanied by a sound of struggling. 
 While this is going on, a tall figure seems to rise 
 suddenly from the ground, and Madam Ryley stands 
 before the bewildered Clague, who is endeavouring to 
 release himself from the detaining hands of the women. 
 
 ' Stand still, Richard Clague !' commanded the mad- 
 woman ; ' I will restore you your lost babe. Be quiet 
 and patient.' 
 
 ' Quite an' patient, indeed, an' three women holtin' 
 on to me like this ;' for the Irishwoman had given her 
 powerful aid to the other two, from whom Clague 
 would have soon freed himself. ' Who are ye ?' he 
 demanded. ' I'm thinkin' I've seen ye before, some- 
 
 9
 
 [30 
 
 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 where — wheere I cannot call to mind jus' now, I'm 
 that worritted with all this throuble about the child.' 
 
 ' As I said before, /will restore you your child.' 
 
 ' You, indeed !' panted Betsey ; ' if on'y I'd a-got it 
 out safe-t on the dung-heap, ugh ! ugh !' 
 
 Meanwhile a dense and blinding smoke was rapidly 
 filling the room ; and while the whole party paused in 
 their hostilities in the endeavour to breathe, a scream, 
 louder and more piercing than any of its predecessors, 
 rang through the room, and Clague's struggles again 
 became violent to free himself 
 
 ' Let me go, will ye ! let me go, ye devils ! Lord ! 
 that I should be held in by a pack o' women ! I tell 
 
 ye I'll ' But whatever he was going to say died 
 
 on his lips. There is heard the tread of numerous 
 tiny pattering feet. Some figure at the same time 
 softly brushes past the hstening group. The cries of 
 the infant suddenly cease. Again hundreds of light 
 footsteps are heard, accompanied by a sound like the 
 twittering of innumerable birds in spring, followed 
 presently by the same heavier footsteps. The outer 
 door opens for a second, letting in a faint peep of 
 gray morning light. Then succeeds a dead stillness, 
 till broken by a gentle murmur as of a baby just 
 awaking out of sleep. 
 
 ' Let go o' me, will ye !' again shouts Clague. ' Let 
 me go to my baby !' 
 
 The spell that had influenced the whole party is 
 broken. Richard is released, and all simultaneously
 
 THE MAGIC KIERN ROD. 131 
 
 rush to the cradle, and then Betsey turns to rouse the 
 decaying fire. When light is obtained, who could 
 describe the joy of the parents to see their darling 
 restored to them (Mrs. Clague had now joined the 
 rest). We leave that to the imagination of the 
 reader. 
 
 All the various actors in the last scene took unto 
 themselves the credit of having brought about this 
 happy result with their spells. Betsey and her friend, 
 the ' decent Manx body,' each averred that it was the 
 sight of their extraordinary brew that had frightened 
 the changeling away ; whilst Mistress Ryley affirms that 
 had it not been for her timely beating and pinching, 
 the ' good people ' would never have resumed posses- 
 sion of their fairy child, or restored the Clagues' their 
 offspring. 
 
 Lastly, Richard positively asserts that he it was, and 
 no other, that worked the charm by placing the kiern 
 rod on the cradle ; and his wife, of course, as in duty 
 bound, seconds him in this as in all else. 
 
 Where are there not to be found unbelievers ? and 
 there were some sceptics, even in those days, who 
 were incHned to give credence to a story said to be 
 told by a girl called 'mad Chrissie,' who it was stated 
 gave the following version of the affair : 
 
 ' She had been carrying her sister's baby, who had 
 been left in her care, the mother having gone to 
 Castletown to her husband's father, who was supposed 
 to be dying. The husband himself was away at sea. 
 
 9—2
 
 132 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 Chrissie, on the night in question, passed the Clagues', 
 and seeing the door open, and Betsey fast asleep, the 
 idea crossed her mind of substituting her puny sickly 
 niece for the fine healthy baby within, "to spite 
 Masther Clague, who was always dhrivin' her off the 
 farm." She afterw^ards was " longin' tarrible for her 
 own chile," and watching her opportunity, stole in and 
 again effected an exchange, whilst the confusion of 
 the struggle was going on, and the kitchen filled with 
 the smoke which so completely hid her from view 
 She was so fond of the little niece, that her sister had 
 always hitherto been able with an easy mind to trust 
 it to her care,' 
 
 This story did not get out till months had passed, 
 and Chrissie's charge was dead. When sent for 
 and questioned by Clague, the girl denied all know- 
 ledge of the matter. 
 
 Of course all right-minded Manx folk knew that it 
 was the work of the fairies, and Clague maintained to 
 his d>ing day that what had upset their wicked scheme, 
 and restored to him and his now happy wife their 
 beautiful babe, was the magic kiern rod
 
 f 
 
 THE PHYNODDEREE, 
 OR GOOD-NATURED FAIRY.
 
 i
 
 THE PHYNODDEREE. 
 
 Glen Rushen and the tiny revellers — Glen Auldyn — The Manx 
 maiden — The * little man ' and his unfortunate love suit — 
 How he was changed into the form of a Satyr. 
 
 Oh, merry were the ' little people ' in the pretty Glen 
 of Rushen ! How they danced and sang beneath the 
 moon's pale beams, or under the brighter rays of the 
 sun, or chased each other from one tall fern to another, 
 playing hide and seek under the shade of the dark 
 trailing ivy that spread its sheltering leaves over the 
 soft green moss, from whence peeped out many a 
 purple violet and gentle primrose, with here and there 
 the starlike daisies that scarce bent their bright heads 
 under the light tread of the fairy feet. Ay ! merry 
 indeed were they, and fairy music and fairy laughter 
 sounded out on the air, mingling with the pleasant 
 ripple of the stream that took its sparkling way to the 
 wide sea beyond, scattering as it flowed showers of 
 grateful moisture to the waiting flowers that grew along 
 its banks. 
 
 Amongst all the joyous crew one alone stood aloof, 
 pensive and sad, taking no part in all the mirth and 
 revelry. He was what might be called a giant by the
 
 136 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 ' good people,' being nearly two feet high, with dark 
 hair and flowing beard. His eyes, that rivalled in 
 hue the deep shade of the violets near, and his 
 whole face were clouded o'er with melancholy. In 
 vain did many a pretty fay try to lure him to the dance, 
 or at least a game. He was not to be tempted from 
 his unhappy musings, and while the revels were at 
 their height, he had disappeared from among the 
 sportive throng. When again we see him, it is in the 
 first hours of the new day. In some mysterious way 
 he has been conveyed in so short a space of time as 
 from the previous midnight from Glen Rushen to the 
 beautiful Glen of Auldyn, near Ramsey. Whether 
 he had flown all those many miles on a bat's back — 
 the fairy's favourite steed — or on 'the wings of love,' 
 we are not prepared to state ; but this we can positively 
 aver, that our hero was at those early hours standing 
 under the blue tree in Glen Auldyn, and gazing with 
 anxious, longing eyes at a cottage built under the shade 
 of this tree against which he leaned. No sound broke 
 the stillness, save the murmur of the little stream that 
 ran swiftly on its course to swell the waters of the 
 river Sulby, or now and again the faint bleating of the 
 sheep on the hillside might be heard. Over this hill- 
 side, as the hours passed, came gleams of ruddy light ; 
 and as these rays rose higher and higher, proclaiming 
 the advancing day, signs of wakefulness were percep- 
 tible at the little cot. A tiny wreath of smoke curled 
 upwards in the fresh morning air ; sturdy roosters
 
 THE PHYNODDEREE. 137 
 
 woke the echoes with their shrill cry. Presently the 
 door of the cottage opens, and a clear voice rings out 
 blithe and cheery : 
 
 ' Oh ! Vollee Charane craad hooar 00 dty Sthoyr ? 
 My lomarcan daag 00 mee ;' 
 
 and then the singer comes into view — a pretty, bright- 
 faced Manx girl, and as she does, the watcher steps 
 forward and is met by anything but pleased looks by 
 the country maid. 
 
 ' What ! you here again, little man ?' she cries in 
 angry tones. ' I want naught to do wi' ye.' 
 
 In vain the fairy pleaded as full many a morn before 
 he had done. Promises of untold grandeur or threats 
 of dire misfortune were powerless to move the obdu- 
 rate fair one to listen with favour to his vows of 
 love. 
 
 ' Get ye gone, and let me never see ye more,' was 
 all he got for answer. And, alas ! his ill luck was not 
 to end here, for the king was so incensed at his 
 repeated absences from the fairy court, and, what 
 aggravated his offence, his daring to make love to a 
 mortal maid, that he not only expelled him from Glen 
 Rushen and association with any of his former friends, 
 but by spells — unknown, we trust, to fairies of the 
 present day — changed his appearance into something, 
 we should judge, resembhng a satyr's, for we are told 
 he was suddenly transformed to the height and size of 
 an ordinary man, his body clothed with long shaggy
 
 138 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN VAN N IN. 
 
 hair like the beasts of the field, and all his former 
 beauty gone ! Misfortune, however, seems not to 
 have had the ill effect it is said to exercise sometimes 
 on the mind, by souring the temper and exciting un- 
 amiable feelings towards those more happily placed ; 
 for this poor fay, whose strength must have been super- 
 natural indeed, used it always in behalf of those who 
 were in great need of help. The anxious, weary farmer 
 has many a time had his heart lightened when he has 
 risen in the early morn to see, perhaps, a field ploughed, 
 or crops gathered in, or some other labour performed 
 in a night, that weeks of toihng, late and early, with 
 many to help, and consequently many to pay, would 
 not see accomplished. But woe betide him if, in 
 gratitude of heart, he placed some offering for the 
 kindly fairy, for from that day he lost all chance of his 
 good offices. Indeed, it is sometimes given as a 
 reason why farmers of more recent times are left 
 without this supernatural aid, that one, to- show his 
 appreciation of the Phynodderee's assistance, left a gift 
 for him of wearing apparel, and so offended was the 
 fairy that he has never since mixed himself up in 
 mortal affairs.^ 
 
 * This account of the Phynodderee bears a striking resemblance 
 to the 'brownie,' or good-natured fairy, of the Scots. — ^J. H. L.
 
 CONCLUDING CHAPTER OF SHADOWLAND 
 IN ELL AN V ANN IN.
 
 CONCLUDING CHAPTER OF 
 SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN VANNIN. 
 
 In this chapter we give in brief some of the super- 
 stitions of the Manx not introduced in the foregoing 
 tales. 
 
 The faith of this people in charms was boundless, 
 and as they fully believed in the many ills that might 
 arise to them or their belongings from the 'evil-eye,' 
 where their own powers failed, they at once resorted 
 to someone skilled in counteracting such dire in- 
 fluences. 
 
 In 1 7 12 a woman named Moor, of Kirk Lonan, 
 was condemned to thirty days' imprisonment, and on 
 release was further punished by having to stand for 
 two hours, enveloped in a white sheet, in the four 
 market towns of the island — the reason for this 
 penance, 'Witchcraft,' being placed in large letters on 
 her back, that all might read. One of the many 
 charges brought against her was that by ' spells ' she 
 had made the cows of a neighbour ' run dry ' with
 
 142 SHADOWLAND IN ELLAN V ANN IN. 
 
 whom she had a long standing quarrel ; and though 
 the owner had taken up some of the soil on which she 
 had stood when ' casting the evil eye on the beasts,' 
 spat upon it, ' and thrown it over their backs ' im- 
 mediately the woman withdrew, strange as it may 
 appear, it had no effect in doing away with the mis- 
 chief 
 
 These ' witches ' were gifted wath w^onderful powers, 
 for not only could they by their spells prevent cattle 
 yielding the proper quantum of milk, but could also 
 control the winds. A certain number of knots were 
 tied on a handkerchief; this handkerchief being given 
 to the sailor or fisherman who had bespoke their 
 services, by unfastening one or more of the knots, as 
 might be found necessary, favourable breezes were 
 assured to them. 
 
 Some time about the year 1833 flourished a Mr. 
 Charles Scare, of Ballawhane, in the parish of Andreas, 
 better known as the 'Fairy Doctor.' He was 
 supposed to be skilled not only in the cure of all 
 diseases inflicted on either man or beast by the evil- 
 eye, fairies, or witches, but was also gifted with the 
 power of 'laying ghosts.' Once only do we hear of 
 failure ; the famous Buggane of ' Gob-ny-Scuit ' 
 proved too much for him. The locale of this spirit is 
 now disputed ground — one history being that two 
 brothers were crossing Barule from Ramsey to Duglas, 
 each mounted on a strong Manx pony. Unluckily for 
 him, one of these men had his wife on a pillion behind
 
 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 143 
 
 him. When near the summit of the mountain a 
 quarrel arose between the brothers, and of so serious 
 a nature that each drew his sword and engaged in 
 mortal combat. Victory seemed to declare for the 
 married man, till his wife, proving treacherous, threw 
 her cloak over his weapon, when his brother, taking 
 advantage of his disabled condition, ran him through 
 the body. Ever since, at certain times may be heard, 
 near the cairn on the top of the hill, a melancholy 
 wailing, supposed to be the complainings of the spirit 
 of the betrayed husband and brother, who thus 
 breathes his woes to any who may adventure them- 
 selves within reach of the doleful sound. 
 
 This buggane is also claimed in Kirk Maughold ; 
 the mournful cry is said to proceed from a cleft in the 
 rock, where there is a small cascade ; but this being 
 far too prosaic an interpretation, we shall keep to the 
 first and more generally received version. 
 
 A twig or branch cut from the kiern^ is supposed to 
 be a wonderful preservative against the evil-eye and 
 mischievously inclined fairies. On ' Laa Boaldyn' 
 (May Eve), when all sorts of ills are to be dreaded 
 from the little people, crosses cut from this tree are 
 tied to the tails of the cattle and fastened on to the 
 doors of stables and cowhouses. Besides this pre- 
 caution, the gorse on the surrounding hills is set on 
 fire to fright away evil-disposed spirits. At this time, 
 too, there is always risk of the ' tarroo ushtey ' (water 
 * Mountain ash.
 
 144 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 bull) mingling with the cattle, from which very 
 disastrous results in many ways may be expected, not 
 the least of which is, that the monster tries, and often 
 succeeds in tempting many a valuable cow to follow 
 him into his favourite element, there to perish in the 
 waters. 
 
 On 'Laa Boaldyn' children are apt to be enticed 
 away to Fairyland, and on the last day of April 
 anxious mothers might be heard calling their brood 
 home betimes, by blowing, through a cow's horn, 
 formerly the accepted mode of summoning the young 
 stragglers. 
 
 To fairies, be they kindly or the reverse, is ascribed 
 a decided taste for hunting, and the better to follow 
 their favourite pursuit, they do not hesitate to invade 
 the stables of any farmers near, and mounting their 
 steeds, the unfortunate animals are returned in early 
 hours to their stalls, but always with painful evidence 
 of their hard night's work. If in the morning a farmer 
 finds his horse looking utterly jaded, heated, and 
 trembling, ' Ridden at the good people ' he will give you 
 as the cause; and will then proceed to tell you instances 
 of how he or some of his acquaintances have seen, in 
 the night, little men dressed in the orthodox hunting- 
 costume, red, 'tearin' over the counthrey' on their 
 borrowed ' mounts,' ' an' little horns at them that 
 they're blowin' in whiles.' 
 
 Of ' death omens ' there are many, the most striking 
 of which is the phantom funeral. So real does this
 
 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 145 
 
 seem that, over the ' chiollagh,' many a tale is told 
 of how, just before certain people have been called 
 from this lower sphere, someone or other has seen a 
 funeral cortege wind slowly from the house to the 
 churchyard ; the mourners have been recognised by 
 the watcher, and in some instances even the name on 
 the coffin deciphered, as in mimic show it was lowered 
 into the grave. This would probably come under 
 the heading of second - sight. When anyone is 
 ill, if what are called ' corpse-lights ' are seen to hover 
 round the bed, it is considered a certain sign that the 
 malady will prove fatal. 
 
 On New Year's Eve, in many households, ashes are 
 spread on the floor from the hearth to the door. If 
 there are indications of footprints, the directions in 
 which they point is anxiously looked for ; if towards 
 the door, it is an infallible sign that someone will be 
 carried out. before the end of the year ; if the steps 
 point inwards, a new inmate may be looked for. 
 
 On 'Oie Houinney ' (Hallow E'en) many ceremonies 
 are gone through, the more important of which may 
 probably be considered the making of the ' soddag 
 valloo ' (dumb cake) ; not a word must be spoken 
 during the mixing of this extraordinary compound, or 
 all the efficacy is destroyed — in vain will the maiden 
 anxious in dreams to see her future husband place a 
 piece of this cake under her pillow. As the in- 
 gredients of this ' saddag valloo ' consist of flour, eggs 
 and egg-shells, soot, etc., by eating, instead of sleep- 
 
 10
 
 146 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN, 
 
 ing upon a piece, she would probably under any cir- 
 cumstances have visions of many things she did not 
 bargain for. 
 
 The ' quaaltagh,' on New Year's morning, is a person 
 on whom ' hang great events.' Great uneasiness is 
 felt in the household lest the first person to enter 
 should be fair-haired, and, above all things, a 
 ' spaagagh ' (flat-footed) man or woman is deemed the 
 most unfortunate — betokening misfortune through the 
 whole coming year. One thing to be carefully 
 observed on the first morning of the year is that who- 
 ever sweeps the floor must commence operations 
 from the door to the hearth ; if contrariwise, all good 
 luck flies the household for the next twelve months. 
 
 On ' Hop-tu-naa ' (Hollantide Eve) young men go 
 round the country singing ' Hop-tu-naa, Trolla-Iaa,' 
 etc., and expect to be presented with either money 
 or something to eat and drink. On Hollantide Night 
 it is believed that witches, fairies, and elves are 
 allowed to roam about with greater freedom, and 
 'work their wicked will,' so they are specially pro- 
 pitiated. In most country houses, formerly, ' leavings ' 
 of whatever had been the supper of the family was 
 not removed from the table. Clean water was also 
 put into crocks or mugs to refresh the ' little people,' 
 before the household retired to rest. These same 'little 
 people' cannot be thought hard to please, if they were 
 satisfied with cold porridge, or even the more preten- 
 tious meal of ' braghtan,' which consists of barley
 
 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 147 
 
 cake well buttered. Between two of these cakes is 
 laid mashed potatoes and salt herring, the flesh being 
 carefully picked from the bone. 
 
 Though so considerately treated by mortals, to par- 
 take of fairy hospitality is dangerous in the extreme, 
 showing that the good people do not appreciate as 
 they ought the kindness shown them ; and bitter ex- 
 perience has proved to many that to accept money, 
 food, or drink from these sprites is always followed 
 by misfortune. The dairymaid offers more inviting 
 fare, with the idea of saving herself undue fatigue at 
 the churn. A pat of butter or a piece of curd cheese 
 is put within easy reach of the ' good people,' in the 
 hope of gaining their favour. 
 
 On St. Stephen's Day a custom prevails which is not 
 peculiar to the Isle of Man, though, perhaps, the 
 origin there given of it may be. A fairy or witch, in 
 the form of mortal maid of small stature but rare 
 beauty, so bewitched the male sex of the island, from 
 the eldest to the youngest, that everywhere might be 
 heard wives and maids weeping for their false husbands 
 and lovers. Farms lay untilled ; fishing-boats rocked 
 idly and deserted in the bays or harbours ; but, worse 
 than all, this siren led those of whom she had 
 wearied to the sea, where they perished; and it seemed 
 probable that the Isle of Man would not have one of 
 the male sex left to show warranty for its name, when 
 a knight, clad in glittering armour, appeared upon the 
 scene, not only prepared, but able successfully, to do
 
 148 SHADOWLAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN, 
 
 battle for the distressed damsels. His spells proved 
 so effective that to escape them the witch assumed 
 the form of a wren, and each year, on St. Stephen's 
 Day, it is supposed she revisits the place where she 
 had caused such misery. Hence the hunting and 
 killing of the poor little bird, whose shape she is 
 suj^posed to have taken. 
 
 ' Jehaney-cheays ' (Good Friday). — On this day no 
 iron must be used for any purpose — even the poker is 
 laid aside, and when necessary to rouse the fire, a 
 stout stick from the kiern tree is used in its place. 
 
 ' Laal Breeshey ' (St. Bridget's Day). — Keeping 
 this day has for long fallen into disuse, but formerly 
 rushes used to be spread on the floor, and St. Bridget 
 was thus invited to enter : 
 
 * Brede, Brede, tar gys my thie, tar dyn thie ayms noght. 
 Foshil jee yu dorrys da Brede, as Chig da Brede e heet Staigh.' 
 
 ' Bridget, Bridget, enter. Come to 77iy house to-night. Opeji 
 the door for Bridget. Let Bridget come in.'' 
 
 This saint was born in 453, and it is said she 
 received the veil from St. Patrick, and founded the 
 nunnery at Douglas. 
 
 The Manx people had to contend not only with 
 fairies and witches, but gobolds and cobolds. These 
 creatures were supposed to choose as their home the 
 caves with which the coast of Elian Vannin is thickly 
 studded. Like the ' little people', they seem to have 
 preferred more solid food than the sweets ' the honey
 
 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 149 
 
 bee sips ' from each opening flower, and the dew that 
 hangs from its leaves was not sufficient to quench 
 their thirst, for we are told they took toll from the 
 flocks of the farmers near, and, besides this, milked 
 their cows to provide for their wants. 
 
 At Spanish Head they deprived an unfortunate man 
 of nearly his whole flock of sheep — they disappeared 
 one by one — and he and his family seemed likely to 
 sink into abject poverty and wretchedness, when 
 suddenly the depredations of the enemy ceased. 
 This farmer's son, who must have been a brave man 
 for his time, made a search into the gobold's cave, 
 where he saw the bones of many of the slain sheep 
 lying about ; but besides this he found a sack, on 
 which in large letters was his father's name. This he 
 put on his back and carried home. On being opened 
 it was found to contain treasure of gold and silver. 
 The ill-luck attending ' fairy gifts ' does not seem to 
 have attached to this, for this farmer and his family 
 ended in being about the richest people in the isle. 
 
 The Manx, in common with many other peoples, 
 hold a belief in 'cities under the sea.' These sub- 
 marine cities are supposed at certain times to rise to 
 the surface of the water, and if anyone on seeing this 
 is fortunately carrying a Bible, he or she has only to 
 hold this up, and they are at once conveyed in safety 
 through the waters to these strange dwellings ; but 
 woe betide the unfortunate explorer if by any means 
 he is induced to part with his Bible, for in that case
 
 150 SHADOW LAND IN ELL AN V ANN IN. 
 
 he can never return to his home or friends again. 
 Mermaids and mermen also find the sea and air of 
 this hamited isle to agree with their constitutions, for 
 the fair mermaidens are often seen combing their 
 tresses to the accompaniment of some seductive song, 
 whilst either seated on some rock or floating slowly 
 in the waters, her tail floating gracefully behind her, 
 and also by judicious management propelling her 
 gently on her way. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Elliot Stock, Paternoster Nozu, London.
 
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