CELTIC FAIRY TALES

_SELECTED AND EDITED BY_

JOSEPH JACOBS

_SAY THIS

Three times, with your eyes shut_

Mothuighim boladh an Éireannaigh bhinn bhreugaigh faoi m'fhóidíndúthaigh. 

_And you will see

What you will see_

_TO ALFRED NUTT_

PREFACE

Last year, in giving the young ones a volume of English Fairy Tales, my difficulty was one of collection. This time, in offering themspecimens of the rich folk-fancy of the Celts of these islands, mytrouble has rather been one of selection. Ireland began to collecther folk-tales almost as early as any country in Europe, and Crokerhas found a whole school of successors in Carleton, Griffin, Kennedy, Curtin, and Douglas Hyde. Scotland had the great name ofCampbell, and has still efficient followers in MacDougall, MacInnes, Carmichael, Macleod, and Campbell of Tiree. Gallant little Wales hasno name to rank alongside these; in this department the Cymru haveshown less vigour than the Gaedhel. Perhaps the Eisteddfod, byoffering prizes for the collection of Welsh folk-tales, may removethis inferiority. Meanwhile Wales must be content to be somewhatscantily represented among the Fairy Tales of the Celts, while theextinct Cornish tongue has only contributed one tale. 

In making my selection I have chiefly tried to make the storiescharacteristic. It would have been easy, especially from Kennedy, tohave made up a volume entirely filled with "Grimm's Goblins" _à laCeltique_. But one can have too much even of that very goodthing, and I have therefore avoided as far as possible the morefamiliar "formulae" of folk-tale literature. To do this I had towithdraw from the English-speaking Pale both in Scotland andIreland, and I laid down the rule to include only tales that havebeen taken down from Celtic peasants ignorant of English. 

Having laid down the rule, I immediately proceeded to break it. Thesuccess of a fairy book, I am convinced, depends on the dueadmixture of the comic and the romantic: Grimm and Asbjörnsen knewthis secret, and they alone. But the Celtic peasant who speaksGaelic takes the pleasure of telling tales somewhat sadly: so far ashe has been printed and translated, I found him, to my surprise, conspicuously lacking in humour. For the comic relief of this volumeI have therefore had to turn mainly to the Irish peasant of thePale; and what richer source could I draw from?

For the more romantic tales I have depended on the Gaelic, and, as Iknow about as much of Gaelic as an Irish Nationalist M. P. , I havehad to depend on translators. But I have felt myself more at libertythan the translators themselves, who have generally been over-literal, in changing, excising, or modifying the original. I haveeven gone further. In order that the tales should be characteristicallyCeltic, I have paid more particular attention to tales that are to befound on both sides of the North Channel. 

In re-telling them I have had no scruple in interpolating now andthen a Scotch incident into an Irish variant of the same story, or_vice versa_. Where the translators appealed to English folkloristsand scholars, I am trying to attract English children. They translated; Iendeavoured to transfer. In short, I have tried to put myself into theposition of an _ollamh_ or _sheenachie_ familiar with both formsof Gaelic, and anxious to put his stories in the best way to attractEnglish children. I trust I shall be forgiven by Celtic scholars for thechanges I have had to make to effect this end. 

The stories collected in this volume are longer and more detailedthan the English ones I brought together last Christmas. Theromantic ones are certainly more romantic, and the comic onesperhaps more comic, though there may be room for a difference ofopinion on this latter point. This superiority of the Celtic folk-tales is due as much to the conditions under which they have beencollected, as to any innate superiority of the folk-imagination. Thefolk-tale in England is in the last stages of exhaustion. The Celticfolk-tales have been collected while the practice of story-tellingis still in full vigour, though there are every signs that its termof life is already numbered. The more the reason why they should becollected and put on record while there is yet time. On the whole, the industry of the collectors of Celtic folk-lore is to becommended, as may be seen from the survey of it I have prefixed tothe Notes and References at the end of the volume. Among these, Iwould call attention to the study of the legend of Beth Gellert, theorigin of which, I believe, I have settled. 

While I have endeavoured to render the language of the tales simpleand free from bookish artifice, I have not felt at liberty to retellthe tales in the English way. I have not scrupled to retain a Celticturn of speech, and here and there a Celtic word, which I have_not_ explained within brackets--a practice to be abhorred ofall good men. A few words unknown to the reader only addeffectiveness and local colour to a narrative, as Mr. Kipling wellknows. 

One characteristic of the Celtic folk-lore I have endeavoured torepresent in my selection, because it is nearly unique at thepresent day in Europe. Nowhere else is there so large and consistenta body of oral tradition about the national and mythical heroes asamongst the Gaels. Only the _byline_, or hero-songs of Russia, equal in extent the amount of knowledge about the heroes of the pastthat still exists among the Gaelic-speaking peasantry of Scotlandand Ireland. And the Irish tales and ballads have this peculiarity, that some of them have been extant, and can be traced, for well nigha thousand years. I have selected as a specimen of this class theStory of Deirdre, collected among the Scotch peasantry a few yearsago, into which I have been able to insert a passage taken from anIrish vellum of the twelfth century. I could have more than filledthis volume with similar oral traditions about Finn (the Fingal ofMacpherson's "Ossian"). But the story of Finn, as told by the Gaelicpeasantry of to-day, deserves a volume by itself, while theadventures of the Ultonian hero, Cuchulain, could easily fillanother. 

I have endeavoured to include in this volume the best and mosttypical stories told by the chief masters of the Celtic folk-tale, Campbell, Kennedy, Hyde, and Curtin, and to these I have added thebest tales scattered elsewhere. By this means I hope I have puttogether a volume, containing both the best, and the best knownfolk-tales of the Celts. I have only been enabled to do this by thecourtesy of those who owned the copyright of these stories. LadyWilde has kindly granted me the use of her effective version of "TheHorned Women;" and I have specially to thank Messrs. Macmillan forright to use Kennedy's "Legendary Fictions, " and Messrs. Sampson Low& Co. , for the use of Mr. Curtin's Tales. 

In making my selection, and in all doubtful points of treatment, Ihave had resource to the wide knowledge of my friend Mr. Alfred Nuttin all branches of Celtic folk-lore. If this volume does anything torepresent to English children the vision and colour, the magic andcharm, of the Celtic folk-imagination, this is due in large measureto the care with which Mr. Nutt has watched its inception andprogress. With him by my side I could venture into regions where thenon-Celt wanders at his own risk. 

Lastly, I have again to rejoice in the co-operation of my friend, Mr. J. D. Batten, in giving form to the creations of the folk-fancy. He has endeavoured in his illustrations to retain as much aspossible of Celtic ornamentation; for all details of Celticarchaeology he has authority. Yet both he and I have striven to giveCeltic things as they appear to, and attract, the English mind, rather than attempt the hopeless task of representing them as theyare to Celts. The fate of the Celt in the British Empire bids fairto resemble that of the Greeks among the Romans. "They went forth tobattle, but they always fell, " yet the captive Celt has enslaved hiscaptor in the realm of imagination. The present volume attempts tobegin the pleasant captivity from the earliest years. If it couldsucceed in giving a common fund of imaginative wealth to the Celticand the Saxon children of these isles, it might do more for a trueunion of hearts than all your politics. 

JOSEPH JACOBS. 

CONTENTS

I. CONNLA AND THE FAIRY MAIDEN

II. GULEESH

III. THE FIELD OF BOLIAUNS

IV. THE HORNED WOMEN

V. CONAL YELLOWCLAW

VI. HUDDEN AND DUDDEN AND DONALD O'NEARY

VII. THE SHEPHERD OF MYDDVAI

VIII. THE SPRIGHTLY TAILOR

IX. THE STORY OF DEIRDRE

X. MUNACHAR AND MANACHAR

XI. GOLD-TREE AND SILVER-TREE

XII. KING O'TOOLE AND HIS GOOSE

XIII. THE WOOING OF OLWEN

XIV. JACK AND HIS COMRADES

XV. THE SHEE AN GANNON AND THE GRUAGACH GAIRE

XVI. THE STORY-TELLER AT FAULT

XVII. THE SEA-MAIDEN

XVIII. A LEGEND OF KNOCKMANY

XIX. FAIR, BROWN, AND TREMBLING

XX. JACK AND HIS MASTER

XXI. BETH GELLERT

XXII. THE TALE OF IVAN

XXIII. ANDREW COFFEY

XXIV. THE BATTLE OF THE BIRDS

XXV. BREWERY OF EGGSHELLS

XXVI. THE LAD WITH THE GOAT-SKIN

NOTES AND REFERENCES

CONNLA AND THE FAIRY MAIDEN

Connla of the Fiery Hair was son of Conn of the Hundred Fights. Oneday as he stood by the side of his father on the height of Usna, hesaw a maiden clad in strange attire coming towards him. 

"Whence comest thou, maiden?" said Connla. 

"I come from the Plains of the Ever Living, " she said, "there wherethere is neither death nor sin. There we keep holiday alway, norneed we help from any in our joy. And in all our pleasure we have nostrife. And because we have our homes in the round green hills, mencall us the Hill Folk. "

The king and all with him wondered much to hear a voice when theysaw no one. For save Connla alone, none saw the Fairy Maiden. 

"To whom art thou talking, my son?" said Conn the king. 

Then the maiden answered, "Connla speaks to a young, fair maid, whomneither death nor old age awaits. I love Connla, and now I call himaway to the Plain of Pleasure, Moy Mell, where Boadag is king foraye, nor has there been complaint or sorrow in that land since hehas held the kingship. Oh, come with me, Connla of the Fiery Hair, ruddy as the dawn with thy tawny skin. A fairy crown awaits thee tograce thy comely face and royal form. Come, and never shall thycomeliness fade, nor thy youth, till the last awful day ofjudgment. "

The king in fear at what the maiden said, which he heard though hecould not see her, called aloud to his Druid, Coran by name. 

"Oh, Coran of the many spells, " he said, "and of the cunning magic, I call upon thy aid. A task is upon me too great for all my skilland wit, greater than any laid upon me since I seized the kingship. A maiden unseen has met us, and by her power would take from me mydear, my comely son. If thou help not, he will be taken from thyking by woman's wiles and witchery. "

Then Coran the Druid stood forth and chanted his spells towards thespot where the maiden's voice had been heard. And none heard hervoice again, nor could Connla see her longer. Only as she vanishedbefore the Druid's mighty spell, she threw an apple to Connla. 

For a whole month from that day Connla would take nothing, either toeat or to drink, save only from that apple. But as he ate it grewagain and always kept whole. And all the while there grew within hima mighty yearning and longing after the maiden he had seen. 

But when the last day of the month of waiting came, Connla stood bythe side of the king his father on the Plain of Arcomin, and againhe saw the maiden come towards him, and again she spoke to him. 

"'Tis a glorious place, forsooth, that Connla holds among short-lived mortals awaiting the day of death. But now the folk of life, the ever-living ones, beg and bid thee come to Moy Mell, the Plainof Pleasure, for they have learnt to know thee, seeing thee in thyhome among thy dear ones. "

When Conn the king heard the maiden's voice he called to his menaloud and said:

"Summon swift my Druid Coran, for I see she has again this day thepower of speech. "

Then the maiden said: "Oh, mighty Conn, fighter of a hundred fights, the Druid's power is little loved; it has little honour in themighty land, peopled with so many of the upright. When the Law willcome, it will do away with the Druid's magic spells that come fromthe lips of the false black demon. "

Then Conn the king observed that since the maiden came, Connla hisson spoke to none that spake to him. So Conn of the hundred fightssaid to him, "Is it to thy mind what the woman says, my son?"

"'Tis hard upon me, " then said Connla; "I love my own folk above allthings; but yet, but yet a longing seizes me for the maiden. "

When the maiden heard this, she answered and said "The ocean is notso strong as the waves of thy longing. Come with me in my curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. Soon we can reachBoadag's realm. I see the bright sun sink, yet far as it is, we canreach it before dark. There is, too, another land worthy of thyjourney, a land joyous to all that seek it. Only wives and maidensdwell there. If thou wilt, we can seek it and live there alonetogether in joy. "

When the maiden ceased to speak, Connla of the Fiery Hair rushedaway from them and sprang into the curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. And then they all, king and court, saw itglide away over the bright sea towards the setting sun. Away andaway, till eye could see it no longer, and Connla and the FairyMaiden went their way on the sea, and were no more seen, nor did anyknow where they came. 

GULEESH

There was once a boy in the County Mayo; Guleesh was his name. Therewas the finest rath a little way off from the gable of the house, and he was often in the habit of seating himself on the fine grassbank that was running round it. One night he stood, half leaningagainst the gable of the house, and looking up into the sky, andwatching the beautiful white moon over his head. After he had beenstanding that way for a couple of hours, he said to himself: "Mybitter grief that I am not gone away out of this place altogether. I'd sooner be any place in the world than here. Och, it's well foryou, white moon, " says he, "that's turning round, turning round, asyou please yourself, and no man can put you back. I wish I was thesame as you. "

Hardly was the word out of his mouth when he heard a great noisecoming like the sound of many people running together, and talking, and laughing, and making sport, and the sound went by him like awhirl of wind, and he was listening to it going into the rath. "Musha, by my soul, " says he, "but ye're merry enough, and I'llfollow ye. "

What was in it but the fairy host, though he did not know at firstthat it was they who were in it, but he followed them into the rath. It's there he heard the _fulparnee_, and the _folpornee_, the_rap-lay-hoota_, and the _roolya-boolya_, that they had there, and every man of them crying out as loud as he could: "My horse, and bridle, and saddle! My horse, and bridle, and saddle!"

"By my hand, " said Guleesh, "my boy, that's not bad. I'll imitateye, " and he cried out as well as they: "My horse, and bridle, andsaddle! My horse, and bridle, and saddle!" And on the moment therewas a fine horse with a bridle of gold, and a saddle of silver, standing before him. He leaped up on it, and the moment he was onits back he saw clearly that the rath was full of horses, and oflittle people going riding on them. 

Said a man of them to him: "Are you coming with us to-night, Guleesh?"

"I am surely, " said Guleesh. 

"If you are, come along, " said the little man, and out they went alltogether, riding like the wind, faster than the fastest horse everyou saw a-hunting, and faster than the fox and the hounds at histail. 

The cold winter's wind that was before them, they overtook her, andthe cold winter's wind that was behind them, she did not overtakethem. And stop nor stay of that full race, did they make none, untilthey came to the brink of the sea. 

Then every one of them said: "Hie over cap! Hie over cap!" and thatmoment they were up in the air, and before Guleesh had time toremember where he was, they were down on dry land again, and weregoing like the wind. 

At last they stood still, and a man of them said to Guleesh:"Guleesh, do you know where you are now?"

"Not a know, " says Guleesh. 

"You're in France, Guleesh, " said he. "The daughter of the king ofFrance is to be married to-night, the handsomest woman that the sunever saw, and we must do our best to bring her with us; if we'reonly able to carry her off; and you must come with us that we may beable to put the young girl up behind you on the horse, when we'll bebringing her away, for it's not lawful for us to put her sittingbehind ourselves. But you're flesh and blood, and she can take agood grip of you, so that she won't fall off the horse. Are yousatisfied, Guleesh, and will you do what we're telling you?"

"Why shouldn't I be satisfied?" said Guleesh. "I'm satisfied, surely, and anything that ye will tell me to do I'll do it withoutdoubt. "

They got off their horses there, and a man of them said a word thatGuleesh did not understand, and on the moment they were lifted up, and Guleesh found himself and his companions in the palace. Therewas a great feast going on there, and there was not a nobleman or agentleman in the kingdom but was gathered there, dressed in silk andsatin, and gold and silver, and the night was as bright as the daywith all the lamps and candles that were lit, and Guleesh had toshut his two eyes at the brightness. When he opened them again andlooked from him, he thought he never saw anything as fine as all hesaw there. There were a hundred tables spread out, and their full ofmeat and drink on each table of them, flesh-meat, and cakes andsweetmeats, and wine and ale, and every drink that ever a man saw. The musicians were at the two ends of the hall, and they wereplaying the sweetest music that ever a man's ear heard, and therewere young women and fine youths in the middle of the hall, dancingand turning, and going round so quickly and so lightly, that it puta _soorawn_ in Guleesh's head to be looking at them. There weremore there playing tricks, and more making fun and laughing, forsuch a feast as there was that day had not been in France for twentyyears, because the old king had no children alive but only the onedaughter, and she was to be married to the son of another king thatnight. Three days the feast was going on, and the third night shewas to be married, and that was the night that Guleesh and thesheehogues came, hoping, if they could, to carry off with them theking's young daughter. 

Guleesh and his companions were standing together at the head of thehall, where there was a fine altar dressed up, and two bishopsbehind it waiting to marry the girl, as soon as the right timeshould come. Now nobody could see the sheehogues, for they said aword as they came in, that made them all invisible, as if they hadnot been in it at all. 

"Tell me which of them is the king's daughter, " said Guleesh, whenhe was becoming a little used to the noise and the light. 

"Don't you see her there away from you?" said the little man that hewas talking to. 

Guleesh looked where the little man was pointing with his finger, and there he saw the loveliest woman that was, he thought, upon theridge of the world. The rose and the lily were fighting together inher face, and one could not tell which of them got the victory. Herarms and hands were like the lime, her mouth as red as a strawberrywhen it is ripe, her foot was as small and as light as another one'shand, her form was smooth and slender, and her hair was falling downfrom her head in buckles of gold. Her garments and dress were wovenwith gold and silver, and the bright stone that was in the ring onher hand was as shining as the sun. 

Guleesh was nearly blinded with all the loveliness and beauty thatwas in her; but when he looked again, he saw that she was crying, and that there was the trace of tears in her eyes. "It can't be, "said Guleesh, "that there's grief on her, when everybody round heris so full of sport and merriment. "

"Musha, then, she is grieved, " said the little man; "for it'sagainst her own will she's marrying, and she has no love for thehusband she is to marry. The king was going to give her to him threeyears ago, when she was only fifteen, but she said she was tooyoung, and requested him to leave her as she was yet. The king gaveher a year's grace, and when that year was up he gave her anotheryear's grace, and then another; but a week or a day he would notgive her longer, and she is eighteen years old to-night, and it'stime for her to marry; but, indeed, " says he, and he crooked hismouth in an ugly way--"indeed, it's no king's son she'll marry, if Ican help it. "

Guleesh pitied the handsome young lady greatly when he heard that, and he was heart-broken to think that it would be necessary for herto marry a man she did not like, or, what was worse, to take a nastysheehogue for a husband. However, he did not say a word, though hecould not help giving many a curse to the ill-luck that was laid outfor himself, to be helping the people that were to snatch her awayfrom her home and from her father. 

He began thinking, then, what it was he ought to do to save her, buthe could think of nothing. "Oh! if I could only give her some helpand relief, " said he, "I wouldn't care whether I were alive or dead;but I see nothing that I can do for her. "

He was looking on when the king's son came up to her and asked herfor a kiss, but she turned her head away from him. Guleesh haddouble pity for her then, when he saw the lad taking her by the softwhite hand, and drawing her out to dance. They went round in thedance near where Guleesh was, and he could plainly see that therewere tears in her eyes. 

When the dancing was over, the old king, her father, and her motherthe queen, came up and said that this was the right time to marryher, that the bishop was ready, and it was time to put the wedding-ring on her and give her to her husband. 

The king took the youth by the hand, and the queen took herdaughter, and they went up together to the altar, with the lords andgreat people following them. 

When they came near the altar, and were no more than about fouryards from it, the little sheehogue stretched out his foot beforethe girl, and she fell. Before she was able to rise again he threwsomething that was in his hand upon her, said a couple of words, andupon the moment the maiden was gone from amongst them. Nobody couldsee her, for that word made her invisible. The little man_een_seized her and raised her up behind Guleesh, and the king nor no oneelse saw them, but out with them through the hall till they came tothe door. 

Oro! dear Mary! it's there the pity was, and the trouble, and thecrying, and the wonder, and the searching, and the _rookawn_, when that lady disappeared from their eyes, and without their seeingwhat did it. Out of the door of the palace they went, without beingstopped or hindered, for nobody saw them, and, "My horse, my bridle, and saddle!" says every man of them. "My horse, my bridle, andsaddle!" says Guleesh; and on the moment the horse was standingready caparisoned before him. "Now, jump up, Guleesh, " said thelittle man, "and put the lady behind you, and we will be going; themorning is not far off from us now. "

Guleesh raised her up on the horse's back, and leaped up himselfbefore her, and, "Rise, horse, " said he; and his horse, and theother horses with him, went in a full race until they came to thesea. 

"Hie over cap!" said every man of them. 

"Hie over cap!" said Guleesh; and on the moment the horse rose underhim, and cut a leap in the clouds, and came down in Erin. 

They did not stop there, but went of a race to the place where wasGuleesh's house and the rath. And when they came as far as that, Guleesh turned and caught the young girl in his two arms, and leapedoff the horse. 

"I call and cross you to myself, in the name of God!" said he; andon the spot, before the word was out of his mouth, the horse felldown, and what was in it but the beam of a plough, of which they hadmade a horse; and every other horse they had, it was that way theymade it. Some of them were riding on an old besom, and some on abroken stick, and more on a bohalawn or a hemlock-stalk. 

The good people called out together when they heard what Guleeshsaid:

"Oh! Guleesh, you clown, you thief, that no good may happen you, whydid you play that trick on us?"

But they had no power at all to carry off the girl, after Guleeshhad consecrated her to himself. 

"Oh! Guleesh, isn't that a nice turn you did us, and we so kind toyou? What good have we now out of our journey to France. Never mindyet, you clown, but you'll pay us another time for this. Believe us, you'll repent it. "

"He'll have no good to get out of the young girl, " said the littleman that was talking to him in the palace before that, and as hesaid the word he moved over to her and struck her a slap on the sideof the head. "Now, " says he, "she'll be without talk any more; now, Guleesh, what good will she be to you when she'll be dumb? It's timefor us to go--but you'll remember us, Guleesh!"

When he said that he stretched out his two hands, and before Guleeshwas able to give an answer, he and the rest of them were gone intothe rath out of his sight, and he saw them no more. 

He turned to the young woman and said to her: "Thanks be to God, they're gone. Would you not sooner stay with me than with them?" Shegave him no answer. "There's trouble and grief on her yet, " saidGuleesh in his own mind, and he spoke to her again: "I am afraidthat you must spend this night in my father's house, lady, and ifthere is anything that I can do for you, tell me, and I'll be yourservant. "

The beautiful girl remained silent, but there were tears in hereyes, and her face was white and red after each other. 

"Lady, " said Guleesh, "tell me what you would like me to do now. Inever belonged at all to that lot of sheehogues who carried you awaywith them. I am the son of an honest farmer, and I went with themwithout knowing it. If I'll be able to send you back to your fatherI'll do it, and I pray you make any use of me now that you maywish. "

He looked into her face, and he saw the mouth moving as if she wasgoing to speak, but there came no word from it. 

"It cannot be, " said Guleesh, "that you are dumb. Did I not hear youspeaking to the king's son in the palace to-night? Or has that devilmade you really dumb, when he struck his nasty hand on your jaw?"

The girl raised her white smooth hand, and laid her finger on hertongue, to show him that she had lost her voice and power of speech, and the tears ran out of her two eyes like streams, and Guleesh'sown eyes were not dry, for as rough as he was on the outside he hada soft heart, and could not stand the sight of the young girl, andshe in that unhappy plight. 

He began thinking with himself what he ought to do, and he did notlike to bring her home with himself to his father's house, for heknew well that they would not believe him, that he had been inFrance and brought back with him the king of France's daughter, andhe was afraid they might make a mock of the young lady or insulther. 

As he was doubting what he ought to do, and hesitating, he chancedto remember the priest. "Glory be to God, " said he, "I know now whatI'll do; I'll bring her to the priest's house, and he won't refuseme to keep the lady and care for her. " He turned to the lady againand told her that he was loth to take her to his father's house, butthat there was an excellent priest very friendly to himself, whowould take good care of her, if she wished to remain in his house;but that if there was any other place she would rather go, he saidhe would bring her to it. 

She bent her head, to show him she was obliged, and gave him tounderstand that she was ready to follow him any place he was going. "We will go to the priest's house, then, " said he; "he is under anobligation to me, and will do anything I ask him. "

They went together accordingly to the priest's house, and the sunwas just rising when they came to the door. Guleesh beat it hard, and as early as it was the priest was up, and opened the doorhimself. He wondered when he saw Guleesh and the girl, for he wascertain that it was coming wanting to be married they were. 

"Guleesh, Guleesh, isn't it the nice boy you are that you can't waittill ten o'clock or till twelve, but that you must be coming to meat this hour, looking for marriage, you and your sweetheart? Youought to know that I can't marry you at such a time, or, at allevents, can't marry you lawfully. But ubbubboo!" said he, suddenly, as he looked again at the young girl, "in the name of God, who haveyou here? Who is she, or how did you get her?"

"Father, " said Guleesh, "you can marry me, or anybody else, if youwish; but it's not looking for marriage I came to you now, but toask you, if you please, to give a lodging in your house to thisyoung lady. "

The priest looked at him as though he had ten heads on him; butwithout putting any other question to him, he desired him to comein, himself and the maiden, and when they came in, he shut the door, brought them into the parlour, and put them sitting. 

"Now, Guleesh, " said he, "tell me truly who is this young lady, andwhether you're out of your senses really, or are only making a jokeof me. "

"I'm not telling a word of lie, nor making a joke of you, " saidGuleesh; "but it was from the palace of the king of France I carriedoff this lady, and she is the daughter of the king of France. "

He began his story then, and told the whole to the priest, and thepriest was so much surprised that he could not help calling out attimes, or clapping his hands together. 

When Guleesh said from what he saw he thought the girl was notsatisfied with the marriage that was going to take place in thepalace before he and the sheehogues broke it up, there came a redblush into the girl's cheek, and he was more certain than ever thatshe had sooner be as she was--badly as she was--than be the marriedwife of the man she hated. When Guleesh said that he would be verythankful to the priest if he would keep her in his own house, thekind man said he would do that as long as Guleesh pleased, but thathe did not know what they ought to do with her, because they had nomeans of sending her back to her father again. 

Guleesh answered that he was uneasy about the same thing, and thathe saw nothing to do but to keep quiet until they should find someopportunity of doing something better. They made it up then betweenthemselves that the priest should let on that it was his brother'sdaughter he had, who was come on a visit to him from another county, and that he should tell everybody that she was dumb, and do his bestto keep every one away from her. They told the young girl what itwas they intended to do, and she showed by her eyes that she wasobliged to them. 

Guleesh went home then, and when his people asked him where he hadbeen, he said that he had been asleep at the foot of the ditch, andhad passed the night there. 

There was great wonderment on the priest's neighbours at the girlwho came so suddenly to his house without any one knowing where shewas from, or what business she had there. Some of the people saidthat everything was not as it ought to be, and others, that Guleeshwas not like the same man that was in it before, and that it was agreat story, how he was drawing every day to the priest's house, andthat the priest had a wish and a respect for him, a thing they couldnot clear up at all. 

That was true for them, indeed, for it was seldom the day went bybut Guleesh would go to the priest's house, and have a talk withhim, and as often as he would come he used to hope to find the younglady well again, and with leave to speak; but, alas! she remaineddumb and silent, without relief or cure. Since she had no othermeans of talking, she carried on a sort of conversation betweenherself and himself, by moving her hand and fingers, winking hereyes, opening and shutting her mouth, laughing or smiling, and athousand other signs, so that it was not long until they understoodeach other very well. Guleesh was always thinking how he should sendher back to her father; but there was no one to go with her, and hehimself did not know what road to go, for he had never been out ofhis own country before the night he brought her away with him. Norhad the priest any better knowledge than he; but when Guleesh askedhim, he wrote three or four letters to the king of France, and gavethem to buyers and sellers of wares, who used to be going from placeto place across the sea; but they all went astray, and never a onecame to the king's hand. 

This was the way they were for many months, and Guleesh was fallingdeeper and deeper in love with her every day, and it was plain tohimself and the priest that she liked him. The boy feared greatly atlast, lest the king should really hear where his daughter was, andtake her back from himself, and he besought the priest to write nomore, but to leave the matter to God. 

So they passed the time for a year, until there came a day whenGuleesh was lying by himself, on the grass, on the last day of thelast month in autumn, and he was thinking over again in his own mindof everything that happened to him from the day that he went withthe sheehogues across the sea. He remembered then, suddenly, that itwas one November night that he was standing at the gable of thehouse, when the whirlwind came, and the sheehogues in it, and hesaid to himself: "We have November night again to-day, and I'llstand in the same place I was last year, until I see if the goodpeople come again. Perhaps I might see or hear something that wouldbe useful to me, and might bring back her talk again to Mary"--thatwas the name himself and the priest called the king's daughter, forneither of them knew her right name. He told his intention to thepriest, and the priest gave him his blessing. 

Guleesh accordingly went to the old rath when the night wasdarkening, and he stood with his bent elbow leaning on a grey oldflag, waiting till the middle of the night should come. The moonrose slowly; and it was like a knob of fire behind him; and therewas a white fog which was raised up over the fields of grass and alldamp places, through the coolness of the night after a great heat inthe day. The night was calm as is a lake when there is not a breathof wind to move a wave on it, and there was no sound to be heard butthe _cronawn_ of the insects that would go by from time totime, or the hoarse sudden scream of the wild-geese, as they passedfrom lake to lake, half a mile up in the air over his head; or thesharp whistle of the golden and green plover, rising and lying, lying and rising, as they do on a calm night. There were a thousandthousand bright stars shining over his head, and there was a littlefrost out, which left the grass under his foot white and crisp. 

He stood there for an hour, for two hours, for three hours, and thefrost increased greatly, so that he heard the breaking of the_traneens_ under his foot as often as he moved. He was thinking, in his own mind, at last, that the sheehogues would not come thatnight, and that it was as good for him to return back again, whenhe heard a sound far away from him, coming towards him, and herecognised what it was at the first moment. The sound increased, and at first it was like the beating of waves on a stony shore, andthen it was like the falling of a great waterfall, and at last it was likea loud storm in the tops of the trees, and then the whirlwind burstinto the rath of one rout, and the sheehogues were in it. 

It all went by him so suddenly that he lost his breath with it, buthe came to himself on the spot, and put an ear on himself, listeningto what they would say. 

Scarcely had they gathered into the rath till they all beganshouting, and screaming, and talking amongst themselves; and theneach one of them cried out: "My horse, and bridle, and saddle! Myhorse, and bridle, and saddle!" and Guleesh took courage, and calledout as loudly as any of them: "My horse, and bridle, and saddle! Myhorse, and bridle, and saddle!" But before the word was well out ofhis mouth, another man cried out: "Ora! Guleesh, my boy, are youhere with us again? How are you getting on with your woman? There'sno use in your calling for your horse to-night. I'll go bail youwon't play such a trick on us again. It was a good trick you playedon us last year?"

"It was, " said another man; "he won't do it again. "

"Isn't he a prime lad, the same lad! to take a woman with him thatnever said as much to him as, 'How do you do?' since this time lastyear!" says the third man. 

"Perhaps be likes to be looking at her, " said another voice. 

"And if the _omadawn_ only knew that there's an herb growing upby his own door, and if he were to boil it and give it to her, she'dbe well, " said another voice. 

"That's true for you. "

"He is an omadawn. "

"Don't bother your head with him; we'll be going. "

"We'll leave the _bodach_ as he is. "

And with that they rose up into the air, and out with them with one_roolya-boolya_ the way they came; and they left poor Guleeshstanding where they found him, and the two eyes going out of hishead, looking after them and wondering. 

He did not stand long till he returned back, and he thinking in hisown mind on all he saw and heard, and wondering whether there wasreally an herb at his own door that would bring back the talk to theking's daughter. "It can't be, " says he to himself, "that they wouldtell it to me, if there was any virtue in it; but perhaps thesheehogue didn't observe himself when he let the word slip out ofhis mouth. I'll search well as soon as the sun rises, whetherthere's any plant growing beside the house except thistles anddockings. "

He went home, and as tired as he was he did not sleep a wink untilthe sun rose on the morrow. He got up then, and it was the firstthing he did to go out and search well through the grass round aboutthe house, trying could he get any herb that he did not recognise. And, indeed, he was not long searching till he observed a largestrange herb that was growing up just by the gable of the house. 

He went over to it, and observed it closely, and saw that there wereseven little branches coming out of the stalk, and seven leavesgrowing on every branch_een_ of them; and that there was awhite sap in the leaves. "It's very wonderful, " said he to himself, "that I never noticed this herb before. If there's any virtue in anherb at all, it ought to be in such a strange one as this. "

He drew out his knife, cut the plant, and carried it into his ownhouse; stripped the leaves off it and cut up the stalk; and therecame a thick, white juice out of it, as there comes out of the sow-thistle when it is bruised, except that the juice was more like oil. 

He put it in a little pot and a little water in it, and laid it onthe fire until the water was boiling, and then he took a cup, filledit half up with the juice, and put it to his own mouth. It came intohis head then that perhaps it was poison that was in it, and thatthe good people were only tempting him that he might kill himselfwith that trick, or put the girl to death without meaning it. He putdown the cup again, raised a couple of drops on the top of hisfinger, and put it to his mouth. It was not bitter, and, indeed, hada sweet, agreeable taste. He grew bolder then, and drank the full ofa thimble of it, and then as much again, and he never stopped tillhe had half the cup drunk. He fell asleep after that, and did notwake till it was night, and there was great hunger and great thirston him. 

He had to wait, then, till the day rose; but he determined, as soonas he should wake in the morning, that he would go to the king'sdaughter and give her a drink of the juice of the herb. 

As soon as he got up in the morning, he went over to the priest'shouse with the drink in his hand, and he never felt himself so boldand valiant, and spirited and light, as he was that day, and he wasquite certain that it was the drink he drank which made him sohearty. 

When he came to the house, he found the priest and the young ladywithin, and they were wondering greatly why he had not visited themfor two days. 

He told them all his news, and said that he was certain that therewas great power in that herb, and that it would do the lady no hurt, for he tried it himself and got good from it, and then he made hertaste it, for he vowed and swore that there was no harm in it. 

Guleesh handed her the cup, and she drank half of it, and then fellback on her bed and a heavy sleep came on her, and she never wokeout of that sleep till the day on the morrow. 

Guleesh and the priest sat up the entire night with her, waitingtill she should awake, and they between hope and unhope, betweenexpectation of saving her and fear of hurting her. 

She awoke at last when the sun had gone half its way through theheavens. She rubbed her eyes and looked like a person who did notknow where she was. She was like one astonished when she saw Guleeshand the priest in the same room with her, and she sat up doing herbest to collect her thoughts. 

The two men were in great anxiety waiting to see would she speak, orwould she not speak, and when they remained silent for a couple ofminutes, the priest said to her: "Did you sleep well, Mary?"

And she answered him: "I slept, thank you. "

No sooner did Guleesh hear her talking than he put a shout of joyout of him, and ran over to her and fell on his two knees, and said:"A thousand thanks to God, who has given you back the talk; lady ofmy heart, speak again to me. "

The lady answered him that she understood it was he who boiled thatdrink for her, and gave it to her; that she was obliged to him fromher heart for all the kindness he showed her since the day she firstcame to Ireland, and that he might be certain that she never wouldforget it. 

Guleesh was ready to die with satisfaction and delight. Then theybrought her food, and she ate with a good appetite, and was merryand joyous, and never left off talking with the priest while she waseating. 

After that Guleesh went home to his house, and stretched himself onthe bed and fell asleep again, for the force of the herb was not allspent, and he passed another day and a night sleeping. When he wokeup he went back to the priest's house, and found that the young ladywas in the same state, and that she was asleep almost since the timethat he left the house. 

He went into her chamber with the priest, and they remained watchingbeside her till she awoke the second time, and she had her talk aswell as ever, and Guleesh was greatly rejoiced. The priest put foodon the table again, and they ate together, and Guleesh used afterthat to come to the house from day to day, and the friendship thatwas between him and the king's daughter increased, because she hadno one to speak to except Guleesh and the priest, and she likedGuleesh best. 

So they married one another, and that was the fine wedding they had, and if I were to be there then, I would not be here now; but I heardit from a birdeen that there was neither cark nor care, sickness norsorrow, mishap nor misfortune on them till the hour of their death, and may the same be with me, and with us all!

THE FIELD OF BOLIAUNS

One fine day in harvest--it was indeed Lady-day in harvest, thateverybody knows to be one of the greatest holidays in the year--TomFitzpatrick was taking a ramble through the ground, and went alongthe sunny side of a hedge; when all of a sudden he heard a clackingsort of noise a little before him in the hedge. "Dear me, " said Tom, "but isn't it surprising to hear the stonechatters singing so latein the season?" So Tom stole on, going on the tops of his toes totry if he could get a sight of what was making the noise, to see ifhe was right in his guess. The noise stopped; but as Tom lookedsharply through the bushes, what should he see in a nook of thehedge but a brown pitcher, that might hold about a gallon and a halfof liquor; and by-and-by a little wee teeny tiny bit of an old man, with a little _motty_ of a cocked hat stuck upon the top of hishead, a deeshy daushy leather apron hanging before him, pulled out alittle wooden stool, and stood up upon it, and dipped a littlepiggin into the pitcher, and took out the full of it, and put itbeside the stool, and then sat down under the pitcher, and began towork at putting a heel-piece on a bit of a brogue just fit forhimself. "Well, by the powers, " said Tom to himself, "I often heardtell of the Lepracauns, and, to tell God's truth, I never rightlybelieved in them--but here's one of them in real earnest. If I goknowingly to work, I'm a made man. They say a body must never taketheir eyes off them, or they'll escape. "

Tom now stole on a little further, with his eye fixed on the littleman just as a cat does with a mouse. So when he got up quite closeto him, "God bless your work, neighbour, " said Tom. 

The little man raised up his head, and "Thank you kindly, " said he. 

"I wonder you'd be working on the holiday!" said Tom. 

"That's my own business, not yours, " was the reply. 

"Well, may be you'd be civil enough to tell _us_ what you'vegot in the pitcher there?" said Tom. 

"That I will, with pleasure, " said he; "it's good beer. "

"Beer!" said Tom. "Thunder and fire! where did you get it?"

"Where did I get it, is it? Why, I made it. And what do you think Imade it of?"

"Devil a one of me knows, " said Tom; "but of malt, I suppose, whatelse?"

"There you're out. I made it of heath. "

"Of heath!" said Tom, bursting out laughing; "sure you don't thinkme to be such a fool as to believe that?"

"Do as you please, " said he, "but what I tell you is the truth. Didyou never hear tell of the Danes?"

"Well, what about _them_?" said Tom. 

"Why, all the about them there is, is that when they were here theytaught us to make beer out of the heath, and the secret's in myfamily ever since. "

"Will you give a body a taste of your beer?" said Tom. 

"I'll tell you what it is, young man, it would be fitter for you tobe looking after your father's property than to be bothering decentquiet people with your foolish questions. There now, while you'reidling away your time here, there's the cows have broke into theoats, and are knocking the corn all about. "

Tom was taken so by surprise with this that he was just on the verypoint of turning round when he recollected himself; so, afraid thatthe like might happen again, he made a grab at the Lepracaun, andcaught him up in his hand; but in his hurry he overset the pitcher, and spilt all the beer, so that he could not get a taste of it totell what sort it was. He then swore that he would kill him if hedid not show him where his money was. Tom looked so wicked and sobloody-minded that the little man was quite frightened; so says he, "Come along with me a couple of fields off, and I'll show you acrock of gold. "

So they went, and Tom held the Lepracaun fast in his hand, and nevertook his eyes from off him, though they had to cross hedges andditches, and a crooked bit of bog, till at last they came to a greatfield all full of boliauns, and the Lepracaun pointed to a bigboliaun, and says he, "Dig under that boliaun, and you'll get thegreat crock all full of guineas. "

Tom in his hurry had never thought of bringing a spade with him, sohe made up his mind to run home and fetch one; and that he mightknow the place again he took off one of his red garters, and tied itround the boliaun. 

Then he said to the Lepracaun, "Swear ye'll not take that garteraway from that boliaun. " And the Lepracaun swore right away not totouch it. 

"I suppose, " said the Lepracaun, very civilly, "you have no furtheroccasion for me?"

"No, " says Tom; "you may go away now, if you please, and God speedyou, and may good luck attend you wherever you go. "

"Well, good-bye to you, Tom Fitzpatrick, " said the Lepracaun; "andmuch good may it do you when you get it. "

So Tom ran for dear life, till he came home and got a spade, andthen away with him, as hard as he could go, back to the field ofboliauns; but when he got there, lo and behold! not a boliaun in thefield but had a red garter, the very model of his own, tied aboutit; and as to digging up the whole field, that was all nonsense, forthere were more than forty good Irish acres in it. So Tom came homeagain with his spade on his shoulder, a little cooler than he went, and many's the hearty curse he gave the Lepracaun every time hethought of the neat turn he had served him. 

THE HORNED WOMEN

A rich woman sat up late one night carding and preparing wool, whileall the family and servants were asleep. Suddenly a knock was givenat the door, and a voice called, "Open! open!"

"Who is there?" said the woman of the house. 

"I am the Witch of one Horn, " was answered. 

The mistress, supposing that one of her neighbours had called andrequired assistance, opened the door, and a woman entered, having inher hand a pair of wool-carders, and bearing a horn on her forehead, as if growing there. She sat down by the fire in silence, and beganto card the wool with violent haste. Suddenly she paused, and saidaloud: "Where are the women? they delay too long. "

Then a second knock came to the door, and a voice called as before, "Open! open!"

The mistress felt herself obliged to rise and open to the call, andimmediately a second witch entered, having two horns on herforehead, and in her hand a wheel for spinning wool. 

"Give me place, " she said; "I am the Witch of the two Horns, " andshe began to spin as quick as lightning. 

And so the knocks went on, and the call was heard, and the witchesentered, until at last twelve women sat round the fire--the firstwith one horn, the last with twelve horns. 

And they carded the thread, and turned their spinning-wheels, andwound and wove, all singing together an ancient rhyme, but no worddid they speak to the mistress of the house. Strange to hear, andfrightful to look upon, were these twelve women, with their hornsand their wheels; and the mistress felt near to death, and she triedto rise that she might call for help, but she could not move, norcould she utter a word or a cry, for the spell of the witches wasupon her. 

Then one of them called to her in Irish, and said, "Rise, woman, andmake us a cake. "

Then the mistress searched for a vessel to bring water from the wellthat she might mix the meal and make the cake, but she could findnone. 

And they said to her, "Take a sieve and bring water in it. "

And she took the sieve and went to the well; but the water pouredfrom it, and she could fetch none for the cake, and she sat down bythe well and wept. 

Then a voice came by her and said, "Take yellow clay and moss, andbind them together, and plaster the sieve so that it will hold. "

This she did, and the sieve held the water for the cake; and thevoice said again:

"Return, and when thou comest to the north angle of the house, cryaloud three times and say, 'The mountain of the Fenian women and thesky over it is all on fire. '"

And she did so. 

When the witches inside heard the call, a great and terrible crybroke from their lips, and they rushed forth with wild lamentationsand shrieks, and fled away to Slievenamon, where was their chiefabode. But the Spirit of the Well bade the mistress of the house toenter and prepare her home against the enchantments of the witchesif they returned again. 

And first, to break their spells, she sprinkled the water in whichshe had washed her child's feet, the feet-water, outside the door onthe threshold; secondly, she took the cake which in her absence thewitches had made of meal mixed with the blood drawn from thesleeping family, and she broke the cake in bits, and placed a bit inthe mouth of each sleeper, and they were restored; and she took thecloth they had woven, and placed it half in and half out of thechest with the padlock; and lastly, she secured the door with agreat crossbeam fastened in the jambs, so that the witches could notenter, and having done these things she waited. 

Not long were the witches in coming back, and they raged and calledfor vengeance. 

"Open! open!" they screamed; "open, feet-water!"

"I cannot, " said the feet-water; "I am scattered on the ground, andmy path is down to the Lough. "

"Open, open, wood and trees and beam!" they cried to the door. 

"I cannot, " said the door, "for the beam is fixed in the jambs and Ihave no power to move. "

"Open, open, cake that we have made and mingled with blood!" theycried again. 

"I cannot, " said the cake, "for I am broken and bruised, and myblood is on the lips of the sleeping children. "

Then the witches rushed through the air with great cries, and fledback to Slievenamon, uttering strange curses on the Spirit of theWell, who had wished their ruin; but the woman and the house wereleft in peace, and a mantle dropped by one of the witches in herflight was kept hung up by the mistress in memory of that night; andthis mantle was kept by the same family from generation togeneration for five hundred years after. 

CONALL YELLOWCLAW

Conall Yellowclaw was a sturdy tenant in Erin: he had three sons. There was at that time a king over every fifth of Erin. It fell outfor the children of the king that was near Conall, that theythemselves and the children of Conall came to blows. The children ofConall got the upper hand, and they killed the king's big son. Theking sent a message for Conall, and he said to him--"Oh, Conall!what made your sons go to spring on my sons till my big son waskilled by your children? but I see that though I follow yourevengefully, I shall not be much better for it, and I will now seta thing before you, and if you will do it, I will not follow youwith revenge. If you and your sons will get me the brown horse ofthe king of Lochlann, you shall get the souls of your sons. "

"Why, " said Conall, "should not I do the pleasure of the king, though there should be no souls of my sons in dread at all. Hard isthe matter you require of me, but I will lose my own life, and thelife of my sons, or else I will do the pleasure of the king. "

After these words Conall left the king, and he went home: when hegot home he was under much trouble and perplexity. When he went tolie down he told his wife the thing the king had set before him. Hiswife took much sorrow that he was obliged to part from herself, while she knew not if she should see him more. 

"Oh, Conall, " said she, "why didst not thou let the king do his ownpleasure to thy sons, rather than be going now, while I know not ifever I shall see thee more?"

When he rose on the morrow, he set himself and his three sons inorder, and they took their journey towards Lochlann, and they madeno stop but tore through ocean till they reached it. When theyreached Lochlann they did not know what they should do. Said the oldman to his sons, "Stop ye, and we will seek out the house of theking's miller. "

When they went into the house of the king's miller, the man askedthem to stop there for the night. Conall told the miller that hisown children and the children of his king had fallen out, and thathis children had killed the king's son, and there was nothing thatwould please the king but that he should get the brown horse of theking of Lochlann. 

"If you will do me a kindness, and will put me in a way to get him, for certain I will pay ye for it. "

"The thing is silly that you are come to seek, " said the miller;"for the king has laid his mind on him so greatly that you will notget him in any way unless you steal him; but if you can make out away, I will keep it secret. "

"This is what I am thinking, " said Conall, "since you are workingevery day for the king, you and your gillies could put myself and mysons into five sacks of bran. "

"The plan that has come into your head is not bad, " said the miller. 

The miller spoke to his gillies, and he said to them to do this, andthey put them in five sacks. The king's gillies came to seek thebran, and they took the five sacks with them, and they emptied thembefore the horses. The servants locked the door, and they went away. 

When they rose to lay hand on the brown horse, said Conall, "Youshall not do that. It is hard to get out of this; let us make forourselves five hiding holes, so that if they hear us we may go andhide. " They made the holes, then they laid hands on the horse. Thehorse was pretty well unbroken, and he set to making a terriblenoise through the stable. The king heard the noise. "It must be mybrown horse, " said he to his gillies; "find out what is wrong withhim. "

The servants went out, and when Conall and his sons saw them comingthey went into the hiding holes. The servants looked amongst thehorses, and they did not find anything wrong; and they returned andthey told this to the king, and the king said to them that ifnothing was wrong they should go to their places of rest. When thegillies had time to be gone, Conall and his sons laid their handsagain on the horse. If the noise was great that he made before, thenoise he made now was seven times greater. The king sent a messagefor his gillies again, and said for certain there was somethingtroubling the brown horse. "Go and look well about him. " Theservants went out, and they went to their hiding holes. The servantsrummaged well, and did not find a thing. They returned and they toldthis. 

"That is marvellous for me, " said the king: "go you to lie downagain, and if I notice it again I will go out myself. "

When Conall and his sons perceived that the gillies were gone, theylaid hands again on the horse, and one of them caught him, and ifthe noise that the horse made on the two former times was great, hemade more this time. 

"Be this from me, " said the king; "it must be that some one istroubling my brown horse. " He sounded the bell hastily, and when hiswaiting-man came to him, he said to him to let the stable gilliesknow that something was wrong with the horse. The gillies came, andthe king went with them. When Conall and his sons perceived thecompany coming they went to the hiding holes. 

The king was a wary man, and he saw where the horses were making anoise. 

"Be wary, " said the king, "there are men within the stable, let usget at them somehow. "

The king followed the tracks of the men, and he found them. Everyone knew Conall, for he was a valued tenant of the king of Erin, andwhen the king brought them up out of the holes he said, "Oh, Conall, is it you that are here?"

"I am, O king, without question, and necessity made me come. I amunder thy pardon, and under thine honour, and under thy grace. " Hetold how it happened to him, and that he had to get the brown horsefor the king of Erin, or that his sons were to be put to death. "Iknew that I should not get him by asking, and I was going to stealhim. "

"Yes, Conall, it is well enough, but come in, " said the king. Hedesired his look-out men to set a watch on the sons of Conall, andto give them meat. And a double watch was set that night on the sonsof Conall. 

"Now, O Conall, " said the king, "were you ever in a harder placethan to be seeing your lot of sons hanged tomorrow? But you set itto my goodness and to my grace, and say that it was necessitybrought it on you, so I must not hang you. Tell me any case in whichyou were as hard as this, and if you tell that, you shall get thesoul of your youngest son. "

"I will tell a case as hard in which I was, " said Conall. "I wasonce a young lad, and my father had much land, and he had parks ofyear-old cows, and one of them had just calved, and my father toldme to bring her home. I found the cow, and took her with us. Therefell a shower of snow. We went into the herd's bothy, and we tookthe cow and the calf in with us, and we were letting the shower passfrom us. Who should come in but one cat and ten, and one great one-eyed fox-coloured cat as head bard over them. When they came in, invery deed I myself had no liking for their company. 'Strike up withyou, ' said the head bard, 'why should we be still? and sing a cronanto Conall Yellowclaw. ' I was amazed that my name was known to thecats themselves. When they had sung the cronan, said the head bard, 'Now, O Conall, pay the reward of the cronan that the cats have sungto thee. ' 'Well then, ' said I myself, 'I have no reward whatsoeverfor you, unless you should go down and take that calf. ' No soonersaid I the word than the two cats and ten went down to attack thecalf, and in very deed, he did not last them long. 'Play up withyou, why should you be silent? Make a cronan to Conall Yellowclaw, 'said the head bard. Certainly I had no liking at all for the cronan, but up came the one cat and ten, and if they did not sing me acronan then and there! 'Pay them now their reward, ' said the greatfox-coloured cat. 'I am tired myself of yourselves and yourrewards, ' said I. 'I have no reward for you unless you take that cowdown there. ' They betook themselves to the cow, and indeed she didnot last them long. 

"'Why will you be silent? Go up and sing a cronan to ConallYellowclaw, ' said the head bard. And surely, oh king, I had no carefor them or for their cronan, for I began to see that they were notgood comrades. When they had sung me the cronan they betookthemselves down where the head bard was. 'Pay now their reward, saidthe head bard; and for sure, oh king, I had no reward for them; andI said to them, 'I have no reward for you. ' And surely, oh king, there was catterwauling between them. So I leapt out at a turfwindow that was at the back of the house. I took myself off as hardas I might into the wood. I was swift enough and strong at thattime; and when I felt the rustling toirm of the cats after me Iclimbed into as high a tree as I saw in the place, and one that wasclose in the top; and I hid myself as well as I might. The catsbegan to search for me through the wood, and they could not find me;and when they were tired, each one said to the other that they wouldturn back. 'But, ' said the one-eyed fox-coloured cat that wascommander-in-chief over them, 'you saw him not with your two eyes, and though I have but one eye, there's the rascal up in the tree. 'When he had said that, one of them went up in the tree, and as hewas coming where I was, I drew a weapon that I had and I killed him. 'Be this from me!' said the one-eyed one--'I must not be losing mycompany thus; gather round the root of the tree and dig about it, and let down that villain to earth. ' On this they gathered about thetree, and they dug about the root, and the first branching root thatthey cut, she gave a shiver to fall, and I myself gave a shout, andit was not to be wondered at. 

"There was in the neighbourhood of the wood a priest, and he had tenmen with him delving, and he said, 'There is a shout of a man inextremity and I must not be without replying to it. ' And the wisestof the men said, 'Let it alone till we hear it again. ' The catsbegan again digging wildly, and they broke the next root; and Imyself gave the next shout, and in very deed it was not a weak one. 'Certainly, ' said the priest, 'it is a man in extremity--let usmove. ' They set themselves in order for moving. And the cats aroseon the tree, and they broke the third root, and the tree fell on herelbow. Then I gave the third shout. The stalwart men hastened, andwhen they saw how the cats served the tree, they began at them withthe spades; and they themselves and the cats began at each other, till the cats ran away. And surely, oh king, I did not move till Isaw the last one of them off. And then I came home. And there's thehardest case in which I ever was; and it seems to me that tearing bythe cats were harder than hanging to-morrow by the king ofLochlann. "

"Och! Conall, " said the king, "you are full of words. You have freedthe soul of your son with your tale; and if you tell me a hardercase than that you will get your second youngest son, and then youwill have two sons. "

"Well then, " said Conall, "on condition that thou dost that, I willtell thee how I was once in a harder case than to be in thy power inprison to-night. "

"Let's hear, " said the king. 

"I was then, " said Conall, "quite a young lad, and I went outhunting, and my father's land was beside the sea, and it was roughwith rocks, caves, and rifts. When I was going on the top of theshore, I saw as if there were a smoke coming up between two rocks, and I began to look what might be the meaning of the smoke coming upthere. When I was looking, what should I do but fall; and the placewas so full of heather, that neither bone nor skin was broken. Iknew not how I should get out of this. I was not looking before me, but I kept looking overhead the way I came--and thinking that theday would never come that I could get up there. It was terrible forme to be there till I should die. I heard a great clattering coming, and what was there but a great giant and two dozen of goats withhim, and a buck at their head. And when the giant had tied thegoats, he came up and he said to me, 'Hao O! Conall, it's long sincemy knife has been rusting in my pouch waiting for thy tender flesh. ''Och!' said I, 'it's not much you will be bettered by me, though youshould tear me asunder; I will make but one meal for you. But I seethat you are one-eyed. I am a good leech, and I will give you thesight of the other eye. ' The giant went and he drew the greatcaldron on the site of the fire. I myself was telling him how heshould heat the water, so that I should give its sight to the othereye. I got heather and I made a rubber of it, and I set him uprightin the caldron. I began at the eye that was well, pretending to himthat I would give its sight to the other one, till I left them asbad as each other; and surely it was easier to spoil the one thatwas well than to give sight to the other. 

"When he saw that he could not see a glimpse, and when I myself saidto him that I would get out in spite of him, he gave a spring out ofthe water, and he stood in the mouth of the cave, and he said thathe would have revenge for the sight of his eye. I had but to staythere crouched the length of the night, holding in my breath in sucha way that he might not find out where I was. 

"When he felt the birds calling in the morning, and knew that theday was, he said--'Art thou sleeping? Awake and let out my lot ofgoats. ' I killed the buck. He cried, 'I do believe that thou artkilling my buck. '

"'I am not, ' said I, 'but the ropes are so tight that I take long toloose them. ' I let out one of the goats, and there he was caressingher, and he said to her, 'There thou art thou shaggy, hairy whitegoat; and thou seest me, but I see thee not. ' I kept letting themout by the way of one and one, as I flayed the buck, and before thelast one was out I had him flayed bag-wise. Then I went and I put mylegs in place of his legs, and my hands in place of his forelegs, and my head in place of his head, and the horns on top of my head, so that the brute might think that it was the buck. I went out. WhenI was going out the giant laid his hand on me, and he said, 'Therethou art, thou pretty buck; thou seest me, but I see thee not. ' WhenI myself got out, and I saw the world about me, surely, oh, king!joy was on me. When I was out and had shaken the skin off me, I saidto the brute, 'I am out now in spite of you. '

"'Aha!' said he, 'hast thou done this to me. Since thou wert sostalwart that thou hast got out, I will give thee a ring that I havehere; keep the ring, and it will do thee good. '

"'I will not take the ring from you, ' said I, 'but throw it, and Iwill take it with me. ' He threw the ring on the flat ground, I wentmyself and I lifted the ring, and I put it on my finger. When hesaid me then, 'Is the ring fitting thee?' I said to him, 'It is. 'Then he said, 'Where art thou, ring?' And the ring said, 'I amhere. ' The brute went and went towards where the ring was speaking, and now I saw that I was in a harder case than ever I was. I drew adirk. I cut the finger from off me, and I threw it from me as far asI could out on the loch, and there was a great depth in the place. He shouted, 'Where art thou, ring?' And the ring said, 'I am here, 'though it was on the bed of ocean. He gave a spring after the ring, and out he went in the sea. And I was as pleased then when I saw himdrowning, as though you should grant my own life and the life of mytwo sons with me, and not lay any more trouble on me. 

"When the giant was drowned I went in, and I took with me all he hadof gold and silver, and I went home, and surely great joy was on mypeople when I arrived. And as a sign now look, the finger is offme. "

"Yes, indeed, Conall, you are wordy and wise, " said the king. "I seethe finger is off you. You have freed your two sons, but tell me acase in which you ever were that is harder than to be looking onyour son being hanged tomorrow, and you shall get the soul of youreldest son. "

"Then went my father, " said Conall, "and he got me a wife, and I wasmarried. I went to hunt. I was going beside the sea, and I saw anisland over in the midst of the loch, and I came there where a boatwas with a rope before her, and a rope behind her, and many preciousthings within her. I looked myself on the boat to see how I mightget part of them. I put in the one foot, and the other foot was onthe ground, and when I raised my head what was it but the boat overin the middle of the loch, and she never stopped till she reachedthe island. When I went out of the boat the boat returned where shewas before. I did not know now what I should do. The place waswithout meat or clothing, without the appearance of a house on it. Icame out on the top of a hill. Then I came to a glen; I saw in it, at the bottom of a hollow, a woman with a child, and the child wasnaked on her knee, and she had a knife in her hand. She tried to putthe knife to the throat of the babe, and the babe began to laugh inher face, and she began to cry, and she threw the knife behind her. I thought to myself that I was near my foe and far from my friends, and I called to the woman, 'What are you doing here?' And she saidto me, 'What brought you here?' I told her myself word upon word howI came. 'Well then, ' said she, 'it was so I came also. ' She showedme to the place where I should come in where she was. I went in, andI said to her, 'What was the matter that you were putting the knifeon the neck of the child?' 'It is that he must be cooked for thegiant who is here, or else no more of my world will be before me. 'Just then we could be hearing the footsteps of the giant, 'Whatshall I do? what shall I do?' cried the woman. I went to thecaldron, and by luck it was not hot, so in it I got just as thebrute came in. 'Hast thou boiled that youngster for me?' he cried. 'He's not done yet, ' said she, and I cried out from the caldron, 'Mammy, mammy, it's boiling I am. ' Then the giant laughed out HAI, HAW, HOGARAICH, and heaped on wood under the caldron. 

"And now I was sure I would scald before I could get out of that. Asfortune favoured me, the brute slept beside the caldron. There I wasscalded by the bottom of the caldron. When she perceived that he wasasleep, she set her mouth quietly to the hole that was in the lid, and she said to me 'was I alive?' I said I was. I put up my head, and the hole in the lid was so large, that my head went througheasily. Everything was coming easily with me till I began to bringup my hips. I left the skin of my hips behind me, but I came out. When I got out of the caldron I knew not what to do; and she said tome that there was no weapon that would kill him but his own weapon. I began to draw his spear and every breath that he drew I thought Iwould be down his throat, and when his breath came out I was backagain just as far. But with every ill that befell me I got the spearloosed from him. Then I was as one under a bundle of straw in agreat wind for I could not manage the spear. And it was fearful tolook on the brute, who had but one eye in the midst of his face; andit was not agreeable for the like of me to attack him. I drew thedart as best I could, and I set it in his eye. When he felt this hegave his head a lift, and he struck the other end of the dart on thetop of the cave, and it went through to the back of his head. And hefell cold dead where he was; and you may be sure, oh king, that joywas on me. I myself and the woman went out on clear ground, and wepassed the night there. I went and got the boat with which I came, and she was no way lightened, and took the woman and the child overon dry land; and I returned home. "

The king of Lochlann's mother was putting on a fire at this time, and listening to Conall telling the tale about the child. 

"Is it you, " said she, "that were there?"

"Well then, " said he, "'twas I. "

"Och! och!" said she, "'twas I that was there, and the king is thechild whose life you saved; and it is to you that life thanks shouldbe given. " Then they took great joy. 

The king said, "Oh, Conall, you came through great hardships. Andnow the brown horse is yours, and his sack full of the most preciousthings that are in my treasury. "

They lay down that night, and if it was early that Conall rose, itwas earlier than that that the queen was on foot making ready. Hegot the brown horse and his sack full of gold and silver and stonesof great price, and then Conall and his three sons went away, andthey returned home to the Erin realm of gladness. He left the goldand silver in his house, and he went with the horse to the king. They were good friends evermore. He returned home to his wife, andthey set in order a feast; and that was a feast if ever there wasone, oh son and brother. 

HUDDEN AND DUDDEN AND DONALD O'NEARY

There was once upon a time two farmers, and their names were Huddenand Dudden. They had poultry in their yards, sheep on the uplands, and scores of cattle in the meadow-land alongside the river. But forall that they weren't happy. For just between their two farms therelived a poor man by the name of Donald O'Neary. He had a hovel overhis head and a strip of grass that was barely enough to keep his onecow, Daisy, from starving, and, though she did her best, it was butseldom that Donald got a drink of milk or a roll of butter fromDaisy. You would think there was little here to make Hudden andDudden jealous, but so it is, the more one has the more one wants, and Donald's neighbours lay awake of nights scheming how they mightget hold of his little strip of grass-land. Daisy, poor thing, theynever thought of; she was just a bag of bones. 

One day Hudden met Dudden, and they were soon grumbling as usual, and all to the tune of "If only we could get that vagabond DonaldO'Neary out of the country. "

"Let's kill Daisy, " said Hudden at last; "if that doesn't make himclear out, nothing will. "

No sooner said than agreed, and it wasn't dark before Hudden andDudden crept up to the little shed where lay poor Daisy trying herbest to chew the cud, though she hadn't had as much grass in the dayas would cover your hand. And when Donald came to see if Daisy wasall snug for the night, the poor beast had only time to lick hishand once before she died. 

Well, Donald was a shrewd fellow, and downhearted though he was, began to think if he could get any good out of Daisy's death. Hethought and he thought, and the next day you could have seen himtrudging off early to the fair, Daisy's hide over his shoulder, every penny he had jingling in his pockets. Just before he got tothe fair, he made several slits in the hide, put a penny in eachslit, walked into the best inn of the town as bold as if it belongedto him, and, hanging the hide up to a nail in the wall, sat down. 

"Some of your best whisky, " says he to the landlord. 

But the landlord didn't like his looks. "Is it fearing I won't payyou, you are?" says Donald; "why I have a hide here that gives meall the money I want. " And with that he hit it a whack with hisstick and out hopped a penny. The landlord opened his eyes, as youmay fancy. 

"What'll you take for that hide?"

"It's not for sale, my good man. "

"Will you take a gold piece?"

"It's not for sale, I tell you. Hasn't it kept me and mine foryears?" and with that Donald hit the hide another whack and outjumped a second penny. 

Well, the long and the short of it was that Donald let the hide go, and, that very evening, who but he should walk up to Hudden's door?

"Good-evening, Hudden. Will you lend me your best pair of scales?"

Hudden stared and Hudden scratched his head, but he lent the scales. 

When Donald was safe at home, he pulled out his pocketful of brightgold and began to weigh each piece in the scales. But Hudden had puta lump of butter at the bottom, and so the last piece of gold stuckfast to the scales when he took them back to Hudden. 

If Hudden had stared before, he stared ten times more now, and nosooner was Donald's back turned, than he was of as hard as he couldpelt to Dudden's. 

"Good-evening, Dudden. That vagabond, bad luck to him--"

"You mean Donald O'Neary?"

"And who else should I mean? He's back here weighing out sackfuls ofgold. "

"How do you know that?"

"Here are my scales that he borrowed, and here's a gold piece stillsticking to them. "

Off they went together, and they came to Donald's door. Donald hadfinished making the last pile of ten gold pieces. And he couldn'tfinish because a piece had stuck to the scales. 

In they walked without an "If you please" or "By your leave. "

"Well, _I_ never!" that was all _they_ could say. 

"Good-evening, Hudden; good-evening, Dudden. Ah! you thought you hadplayed me a fine trick, but you never did me a better turn in allyour lives. When I found poor Daisy dead, I thought to myself, 'Well, her hide may fetch something;' and it did. Hides are worththeir weight in gold in the market just now. "

Hudden nudged Dudden, and Dudden winked at Hudden. 

"Good-evening, Donald O'Neary. "

"Good-evening, kind friends. "

The next day there wasn't a cow or a calf that belonged to Hudden orDudden but her hide was going to the fair in Hudden's biggest cartdrawn by Dudden's strongest pair of horses. 

When they came to the fair, each one took a hide over his arm, andthere they were walking through the fair, bawling out at the top oftheir voices: "Hides to sell! hides to sell!"

Out came the tanner:

"How much for your hides, my good men?"

"Their weight in gold. "

"It's early in the day to come out of the tavern. "

That was all the tanner said, and back he went to his yard. 

"Hides to sell! Fine fresh hides to sell!"

Out came the cobbler. 

"How much for your hides, my men?"

"Their weight in gold. "

"Is it making game of me you are! Take that for your pains, " and thecobbler dealt Hudden a blow that made him stagger. 

Up the people came running from one end of the fair to the other. "What's the matter? What's the matter?" cried they. 

"Here are a couple of vagabonds selling hides at their weight ingold, " said the cobbler. 

"Hold 'em fast; hold 'em fast!" bawled the innkeeper, who was thelast to come up, he was so fat. "I'll wager it's one of the rogueswho tricked me out of thirty gold pieces yesterday for a wretchedhide. "

It was more kicks than halfpence that Hudden and Dudden got beforethey were well on their way home again, and they didn't run theslower because all the dogs of the town were at their heels. 

Well, as you may fancy, if they loved Donald little before, theyloved him less now. 

"What's the matter, friends?" said he, as he saw them tearing along, their hats knocked in, and their coats torn off, and their facesblack and blue. "Is it fighting you've been? or mayhap you met thepolice, ill luck to them?"

"We'll police you, you vagabond. It's mighty smart you thoughtyourself, deluding us with your lying tales. "

"Who deluded you? Didn't you see the gold with your own two eyes?"

But it was no use talking. Pay for it he must, and should. There wasa meal-sack handy, and into it Hudden and Dudden popped DonaldO'Neary, tied him up tight, ran a pole through the knot, and offthey started for the Brown Lake of the Bog, each with a pole-end onhis shoulder, and Donald O'Neary between. 

But the Brown Lake was far, the road was dusty, Hudden and Duddenwere sore and weary, and parched with thirst. There was an inn bythe roadside. 

"Let's go in, " said Hudden; "I'm dead beat. It's heavy he is for thelittle he had to eat. "

If Hudden was willing, so was Dudden. As for Donald, you may be surehis leave wasn't asked, but he was lumped down at the inn door forall the world as if he had been a sack of potatoes. 

"Sit still, you vagabond, " said Dudden; "if we don't mind waiting, you needn't. "

Donald held his peace, but after a while he heard the glasses clink, and Hudden singing away at the top of his voice. 

"I won't have her, I tell you; I won't have her!" said Donald. Butnobody heeded what he said. 

"I won't have her, I tell you; I won't have her!" said Donald, andthis time he said it louder; but nobody heeded what he said. 

"I won't have her, I tell you; I won't have her!" said Donald; andthis time he said it as loud as he could. 

"And who won't you have, may I be so bold as to ask?" said a farmer, who had just come up with a drove of cattle, and was turning in fora glass. 

"It's the king's daughter. They are bothering the life out of me tomarry her. "

"You're the lucky fellow. I'd give something to be in your shoes. "

"Do you see that now! Wouldn't it be a fine thing for a farmer to bemarrying a princess, all dressed in gold and jewels?"

"Jewels, do you say? Ah, now, couldn't you take me with you?"

"Well, you're an honest fellow, and as I don't care for the king'sdaughter, though she's as beautiful as the day, and is covered withjewels from top to toe, you shall have her. Just undo the cord, andlet me out; they tied me up tight, as they knew I'd run away fromher. "

Out crawled Donald; in crept the farmer. 

"Now lie still, and don't mind the shaking; it's only rumbling overthe palace steps you'll be. And maybe they'll abuse you for avagabond, who won't have the king's daughter; but you needn't mindthat. Ah! it's a deal I'm giving up for you, sure as it is that Idon't care for the princess. "

"Take my cattle in exchange, " said the farmer; and you may guess itwasn't long before Donald was at their tails driving them homewards. 

Out came Hudden and Dudden, and the one took one end of the pole, and the other the other. 

"I'm thinking he's heavier, " said Hudden. 

"Ah, never mind, " said Dudden; "it's only a step now to the BrownLake. "

"I'll have her now! I'll have her now!" bawled the farmer, frominside the sack. 

"By my faith, and you shall though, " said Hudden, and he laid hisstick across the sack. 

"I'll have her! I'll have her!" bawled the farmer, louder than ever. 

"Well, here you are, " said Dudden, for they were now come to theBrown Lake, and, unslinging the sack, they pitched it plump into thelake. 

"You'll not be playing your tricks on us any longer, " said Hudden. 

"True for you, " said Dudden. "Ah, Donald, my boy, it was an ill daywhen you borrowed my scales. "

Off they went, with a light step and an easy heart, but when theywere near home, who should they see but Donald O'Neary, and allaround him the cows were grazing, and the calves were kicking uptheir heels and butting their heads together. 

"Is it you, Donald?" said Dudden. "Faith, you've been quicker thanwe have. "

"True for you, Dudden, and let me thank you kindly; the turn wasgood, if the will was ill. You'll have heard, like me, that theBrown Lake leads to the Land of Promise. I always put it down aslies, but it is just as true as my word. Look at the cattle. "

Hudden stared, and Dudden gaped; but they couldn't get over thecattle; fine fat cattle they were too. 

"It's only the worst I could bring up with me, " said Donald O'Neary;"the others were so fat, there was no driving them. Faith, too, it'slittle wonder they didn't care to leave, with grass as far as youcould see, and as sweet and juicy as fresh butter. "

"Ah, now, Donald, we haven't always been friends, " said Dudden, "but, as I was just saying, you were ever a decent lad, and you'llshow us the way, won't you?"

"I don't see that I'm called upon to do that; there is a power morecattle down there. Why shouldn't I have them all to myself?"

"Faith, they may well say, the richer you get, the harder the heart. You always were a neighbourly lad, Donald. You wouldn't wish to keepthe luck all to yourself?"

"True for you, Hudden, though 'tis a bad example you set me. ButI'll not be thinking of old times. There is plenty for all there, socome along with me. "

Off they trudged, with a light heart and an eager step. When theycame to the Brown Lake, the sky was full of little white clouds, and, if the sky was full, the lake was as full. 

"Ah! now, look, there they are, " cried Donald, as he pointed to theclouds in the lake. 

"Where? where?" cried Hudden, and "Don't be greedy!" cried Dudden, as he jumped his hardest to be up first with the fat cattle. But ifhe jumped first, Hudden wasn't long behind. 

They never came back. Maybe they got too fat, like the cattle. Asfor Donald O'Neary, he had cattle and sheep all his days to hisheart's content. 

THE SHEPHERD OF MYDDVAI

Up in the Black Mountains in Caermarthenshire lies the lake known asLyn y Van Vach. To the margin of this lake the shepherd of Myddvaionce led his lambs, and lay there whilst they sought pasture. Suddenly, from the dark waters of the lake, he saw three maidensrise. Shaking the bright drops from their hair and gliding to theshore, they wandered about amongst his flock. They had more thanmortal beauty, and he was filled with love for her that came nearestto him. He offered her the bread he had with him, and she took itand tried it, but then sang to him:

 Hard-baked is thy bread, 'Tis not easy to catch me, and then ran off laughing to the lake. 

Next day he took with him bread not so well done, and watched forthe maidens. When they came ashore he offered his bread as before, and the maiden tasted it and sang:

 Unbaked is thy bread, I will not have thee, and again disappeared in the waves. 

A third time did the shepherd of Myddvai try to attract the maiden, and this time he offered her bread that he had found floating aboutnear the shore. This pleased her, and she promised to become hiswife if he were able to pick her out from among her sisters on thefollowing day. When the time came the shepherd knew his love by thestrap of her sandal. Then she told him she would be as good a wifeto him as any earthly maiden could be unless he should strike herthree times without cause. Of course he deemed that this could neverbe; and she, summoning from the lake three cows, two oxen, and abull, as her marriage portion, was led homeward by him as his bride. 

The years passed happily, and three children were born to theshepherd and the lake-maiden. But one day here were going to achristening, and she said to her husband it was far to walk, so hetold her to go for the horses. 

"I will, " said she, "if you bring me my gloves which I've left inthe house. "

But when he came back with the gloves, he found she had not gone forthe horses; so he tapped her lightly on the shoulder with thegloves, and said, "Go, go. "

"That's one, " said she. 

Another time they were at a wedding, when suddenly the lake-maidenfell a-sobbing and a-weeping, amid the joy and mirth of all aroundher. 

Her husband tapped her on the shoulder, and asked her, "Why do youweep?"

"Because they are entering into trouble; and trouble is upon you;for that is the second causeless blow you have given me. Be careful;the third is the last. "

The husband was careful never to strike her again. But one day at afuneral she suddenly burst out into fits of laughter. Her husbandforgot, and touched her rather roughly on the shoulder, saying, "Isthis a time for laughter?"

"I laugh, " she said, "because those that die go out of trouble, butyour trouble has come. The last blow has been struck; our marriageis at an end, and so farewell. " And with that she rose up and leftthe house and went to their home. 

Then she, looking round upon her home, called to the cattle she hadbrought with her:

 Brindle cow, white speckled, Spotted cow, bold freckled, Old white face, and gray Geringer, And the white bull from the king's coast, Grey ox, and black calf, All, all, follow me home, Now the black calf had just been slaughtered, and was hanging on thehook; but it got off the hook alive and well and followed her; andthe oxen, though they were ploughing, trailed the plough with themand did her bidding. So she fled to the lake again, they followingher, and with them plunged into the dark waters. 

And to this day is the furrow seen which the plough left as it wasdragged across the mountains to the tarn. 

Only once did she come again, when her sons were grown to manhood, and then she gave them gifts of healing by which they won the nameof Meddygon Myddvai, the physicians of Myddvai. 

THE SPRIGHTLY TAILOR

A sprightly tailor was employed by the great Macdonald, in hiscastle at Saddell, in order to make the laird a pair of trews, usedin olden time. And trews being the vest and breeches united in onepiece, and ornamented with fringes, were very comfortable, andsuitable to be worn in walking or dancing. And Macdonald had said tothe tailor, that if he would make the trews by night in the church, he would get a handsome reward. For it was thought that the oldruined church was haunted, and that fearsome things were to be seenthere at night. 

The tailor was well aware of this; but he was a sprightly man, andwhen the laird dared him to make the trews by night in the church, the tailor was not to be daunted, but took it in hand to gain theprize. So, when night came, away he went up the glen, about half amile distance from the castle, till he came to the old church. Thenhe chose him a nice gravestone for a seat and he lighted his candle, and put on his thimble, and set to work at the trews; plying hisneedle nimbly, and thinking about the hire that the laird would haveto give him. 

For some time he got on pretty well, until he felt the floor all ofa tremble under his feet; and looking about him, but keeping hisfingers at work, he saw the appearance of a great human head risingup through the stone pavement of the church. And when the head hadrisen above the surface, there came from it a great, great voice. And the voice said: "Do you see this great head of mine?"

"I see that, but I'll sew this!" replied the sprightly tailor; andhe stitched away at the trews. 

Then the head rose higher up through the pavement, until its neckappeared. And when its neck was shown, the thundering voice cameagain and said: "Do you see this great neck of mine?"

"I see that, but I'll sew this!" said the sprightly tailor; and hestitched away at his trews. 

Then the head and neck rose higher still, until the great shouldersand chest were shown above the ground. And again the mighty voicethundered: "Do you see this great chest of mine?"

And again the sprightly tailor replied: "I see that, but I'll sewthis!" and stitched away at his trews. 

And still it kept rising through the pavement, until it shook agreat pair of arms in the tailor's face, and said: "Do you see thesegreat arms of mine?"

"I see those, but I'll sew this!" answered the tailor; and hestitched hard at his trews, for he knew that he had no time to lose. 

The sprightly tailor was taking the long stitches, when he saw itgradually rising and rising through the floor, until it lifted out agreat leg, and stamping with it upon the pavement, said in a roaringvoice: "Do you see this great leg of mine?"

"Aye, aye: I see that, but I'll sew this!" cried the tailor; and hisfingers flew with the needle, and he took such long stitches, thathe was just come to the end of the trews, when it was taking up itsother leg. But before it could pull it out of the pavement, thesprightly tailor had finished his task; and, blowing out his candle, and springing from off his gravestone, he buckled up, and ran out ofthe church with the trews under his arm. Then the fearsome thinggave a loud roar, and stamped with both his feet upon the pavement, and out of the church he went after the sprightly tailor. 

Down the glen they ran, faster than the stream when the flood ridesit; but the tailor had got the start and a nimble pair of legs, andhe did not choose to lose the laird's reward. And though the thingroared to him to stop, yet the sprightly tailor was not the man tobe beholden to a monster. So he held his trews tight, and let nodarkness grow under his feet, until he had reached Saddell Castle. He had no sooner got inside the gate, and shut it, than theapparition came up to it; and, enraged at losing his prize, struckthe wall above the gate, and left there the mark of his five greatfingers. Ye may see them plainly to this day, if ye'll only peerclose enough. 

But the sprightly tailor gained his reward: for Macdonald paid himhandsomely for the trews, and never discovered that a few of thestitches were somewhat long. 

THE STORY OF DEIRDRE

There was a man in Ireland once who was called Malcolm Harper. Theman was a right good man, and he had a goodly share of this world'sgoods. He had a wife, but no family. What did Malcolm hear but thata soothsayer had come home to the place, and as the man was a rightgood man, he wished that the soothsayer might come near them. Whether it was that he was invited or that he came of himself, thesoothsayer came to the house of Malcolm. 

"Are you doing any soothsaying?" says Malcolm. 

"Yes, I am doing a little. Are you in need of soothsaying?"

"Well, I do not mind taking soothsaying from you, if you hadsoothsaying for me, and you would be willing to do it. "

"Well, I will do soothsaying for you. What kind of soothsaying doyou want?"

"Well, the soothsaying I wanted was that you would tell me my lot orwhat will happen to me, if you can give me knowledge of it. "

"Well, I am going out, and when I return, I will tell you. "

And the soothsayer went forth out of the house and he was not longoutside when he returned. 

"Well, " said the soothsayer, "I saw in my second sight that it is onaccount of a daughter of yours that the greatest amount of bloodshall be shed that has ever been shed in Erin since time and racebegan. And the three most famous heroes that ever were found willlose their heads on her account. "

After a time a daughter was born to Malcolm, he did not allow aliving being to come to his house, only himself and the nurse. Heasked this woman, "Will you yourself bring up the child to keep herin hiding far away where eye will not see a sight of her nor earhear a word about her?"

The woman said she would, so Malcolm got three men, and he took themaway to a large mountain, distant and far from reach, without theknowledge or notice of any one. He caused there a hillock, round andgreen, to be dug out of the middle, and the hole thus made to becovered carefully over so that a little company could dwell theretogether. This was done. 

Deirdre and her foster-mother dwelt in the bothy mid the hillswithout the knowledge or the suspicion of any living person aboutthem and without anything occurring, until Deirdre was sixteen yearsof age. Deirdre grew like the white sapling, straight and trim asthe rash on the moss. She was the creature of fairest form, ofloveliest aspect, and of gentlest nature that existed between earthand heaven in all Ireland--whatever colour of hue she had before, there was nobody that looked into her face but she would blush fieryred over it. 

The woman that had charge of her, gave Deirdre every information andskill of which she herself had knowledge and skill. There was not ablade of grass growing from root, nor a bird singing in the wood, nor a star shining from heaven but Deirdre had a name for it. Butone thing, she did not wish her to have either part or parley withany single living man of the rest of the world. But on a gloomywinter night, with black, scowling clouds, a hunter of game waswearily travelling the hills, and what happened but that he missedthe trail of the hunt, and lost his course and companions. Adrowsiness came upon the man as he wearily wandered over the hills, and he lay down by the side of the beautiful green knoll in whichDeirdre lived, and he slept. The man was faint from hunger andwandering, and benumbed with cold, and a deep sleep fell upon him. When he lay down beside the green hill where Deirdre was, a troubleddream came to the man, and he thought that he enjoyed the warmth ofa fairy broch, the fairies being inside playing music. The huntershouted out in his dream, if there was any one in the broch, to lethim in for the Holy One's sake. Deirdre heard the voice and said toher foster-mother: "O foster-mother, what cry is that?" "It isnothing at all, Deirdre--merely the birds of the air astray andseeking each other. But let them go past to the bosky glade. Thereis no shelter or house for them here. " "Oh, foster-mother, the birdasked to get inside for the sake of the God of the Elements, and youyourself tell me that anything that is asked in His name we ought todo. If you will not allow the bird that is being benumbed with cold, and done to death with hunger, to be let in, I do not think much ofyour language or your faith. But since I give credence to yourlanguage and to your faith, which you taught me, I will myself letin the bird. " And Deirdre arose and drew the bolt from the leaf ofthe door, and she let in the hunter. She placed a seat in the placefor sitting, food in the place for eating, and drink in the placefor drinking for the man who came to the house. "Oh, for this lifeand raiment, you man that came in, keep restraint on your tongue!"said the old woman. "It is not a great thing for you to keep yourmouth shut and your tongue quiet when you get a home and shelter ofa hearth on a gloomy winter's night. "

"Well, " said the hunter, "I may do that--keep my mouth shut and mytongue quiet, since I came to the house and received hospitalityfrom you; but by the hand of thy father and grandfather, and by yourown two hands, if some other of the people of the world saw thisbeauteous creature you have here hid away, they would not long leaveher with you, I swear. "

"What men are these you refer to?" said Deirdre. 

"Well, I will tell you, young woman, " said the hunter. 

"They are Naois, son of Uisnech, and Allen and Arden his twobrothers. "

"What like are these men when seen, if we were to see them?" saidDeirdre. 

"Why, the aspect and form of the men when seen are these, " said thehunter: "they have the colour of the raven on their hair, their skinlike swan on the wave in whiteness, and their cheeks as the blood ofthe brindled red calf, and their speed and their leap are those ofthe salmon of the torrent and the deer of the grey mountain side. And Naois is head and shoulders over the rest of the people ofErin. "

"However they are, " said the nurse, "be you off from here and takeanother road. And, King of Light and Sun! in good sooth andcertainty, little are my thanks for yourself or for her that let youin!"

The hunter went away, and went straight to the palace of KingConnachar. He sent word in to the king that he wished to speak tohim if he pleased. The king answered the message and came out tospeak to the man. "What is the reason of your journey?" said theking to the hunter. 

"I have only to tell you, O king, " said the hunter, "that I saw thefairest creature that ever was born in Erin, and I came to tell youof it. "

"Who is this beauty and where is she to be seen, when she was notseen before till you saw her, if you did see her?"

"Well, I did see her, " said the hunter. "But, if I did, no man elsecan see her unless he get directions from me as to where she isdwelling. "

"And will you direct me to where she dwells? and the reward of yourdirecting me will be as good as the reward of your message, " saidthe king. 

"Well, I will direct you, O king, although it is likely that thiswill not be what they want, " said the hunter. 

Connachar, King of Ulster, sent for his nearest kinsmen, and he toldthem of his intent. Though early rose the song of the birds mid therocky caves and the music of the birds in the grove, earlier thanthat did Connachar, King of Ulster, arise, with his little troop ofdear friends, in the delightful twilight of the fresh and gentleMay; the dew was heavy on each bush and flower and stem, as theywent to bring Deirdre forth from the green knoll where she stayed. Many a youth was there who had a lithe leaping and lissom step whenthey started whose step was faint, failing, and faltering when theyreached the bothy on account of the length of the way and roughnessof the road. 

"Yonder, now, down in the bottom of the glen is the bothy where thewoman dwells, but I will not go nearer than this to the old woman, "said the hunter. 

Connachar with his band of kinsfolk went down to the green knollwhere Deirdre dwelt and he knocked at the door of the bothy. Thenurse replied, "No less than a king's command and a king's armycould put me out of my bothy to-night. And I should be obliged toyou, were you to tell who it is that wants me to open my bothydoor. "

"It is I, Connachar, King of Ulster. " When the poor woman heard whowas at the door, she rose with haste and let in the king and allthat could get in of his retinue. 

When the king saw the woman that was before him that he had been inquest of, he thought he never saw in the course of the day nor inthe dream of night a creature so fair as Deirdre and he gave hisfull heart's weight of love to her. Deirdre was raised on thetopmost of the heroes' shoulders and she and her foster-mother werebrought to the Court of King Connachar of Ulster. 

With the love that Connachar had for her, he wanted to marry Deirdreright off there and then, will she nill she marry him. But she saidto him, "I would be obliged to you if you will give me the respiteof a year and a day. " He said "I will grant you that, hard though itis, if you will give me your unfailing promise that you will marryme at the year's end. " And she gave the promise. Connachar got forher a woman-teacher and merry modest maidens fair that would liedown and rise with her, that would play and speak with her. Deirdrewas clever in maidenly duties and wifely understanding, andConnachar thought he never saw with bodily eye a creature thatpleased him more. 

Deirdre and her women companions were one day out on the hillockbehind the house enjoying the scene, and drinking in the sun's heat. What did they see coming but three men a-journeying. Deirdre waslooking at the men that were coming, and wondering at them. When themen neared them, Deirdre remembered the language of the huntsman, and she said to herself that these were the three sons of Uisnech, and that this was Naois, he having what was above the bend of thetwo shoulders above the men of Erin all. The three brothers wentpast without taking any notice of them, without even glancing at theyoung girls on the hillock. What happened but that love for Naoisstruck the heart of Deirdre, so that she could not but follow afterhim. She girded up her raiment and went after the men that went pastthe base of the knoll, leaving her women attendants there. Allen andArden had heard of the woman that Connachar, King of Ulster, hadwith him, and they thought that, if Naois, their brother, saw her, he would have her himself, more especially as she was not married tothe King. They perceived the woman coming, and called on one anotherto hasten their step as they had a long distance to travel, and thedusk of night was coming on. They did so. She cried: "Naois, son ofUisnech, will you leave me?" "What piercing, shrill cry is that--themost melodious my ear ever heard, and the shrillest that ever struckmy heart of all the cries I ever heard?" "It is anything else butthe wail of the wave-swans of Connachar, " said his brothers. "No!yonder is a woman's cry of distress, " said Naois, and he swore hewould not go further until he saw from whom the cry came, and Naoisturned back. Naois and Deirdre met, and Deirdre kissed Naois threetimes, and a kiss each to his brothers. With the confusion that shewas in, Deirdre went into a crimson blaze of fire, and her colourcame and went as rapidly as the movement of the aspen by the streamside. Naois thought he never saw a fairer creature, and Naois gaveDeirdre the love that he never gave to thing, to vision, or tocreature but to herself. 

Then Naois placed Deirdre on the topmost height of his shoulder, andtold his brothers to keep up their pace, and they kept up theirpace. Naois thought that it would not be well for him to remain inErin on account of the way in which Connachar, King of Ulster, hisuncle's son, had gone against him because of the woman, though hehad not married her; and he turned back to Alba, that is, Scotland. He reached the side of Loch-Ness and made his habitation there. Hecould kill the salmon of the torrent from out his own door, and thedeer of the grey gorge from out his window. Naois and Deirdre andAllen and Arden dwelt in a tower, and they were happy so long a timeas they were there. 

By this time the end of the period came at which Deirdre had tomarry Connachar, King of Ulster. Connachar made up his mind to takeDeirdre away by the sword whether she was married to Naois or not. So he prepared a great and gleeful feast. He sent word far and widethrough Erin all to his kinspeople to come to the feast. Connacharthought to himself that Naois would not come though he should bidhim; and the scheme that arose in his mind was to send for hisfather's brother, Ferchar Mac Ro, and to send him on an embassy toNaois. He did so; and Connachar said to Ferchar, "Tell Naois, son ofUisnech, that I am setting forth a great and gleeful feast to myfriends and kinspeople throughout the wide extent of Erin all, andthat I shall not have rest by day nor sleep by night if he and Allenand Arden be not partakers of the feast. "

Ferchar Mac Ro and his three sons went on their journey, and reachedthe tower where Naois was dwelling by the side of Loch Etive. Thesons of Uisnech gave a cordial kindly welcome to Ferchar Mac Ro andhis three sons, and asked of him the news of Erin. "The best newsthat I have for you, " said the hardy hero, "is that Connachar, Kingof Ulster, is setting forth a great sumptuous feast to his friendsand kinspeople throughout the wide extent of Erin all, and he hasvowed by the earth beneath him, by the high heaven above him, and bythe sun that wends to the west, that he will have no rest by day norsleep by night if the sons of Uisnech, the sons of his own father'sbrother, will not come back to the land of their home and the soilof their nativity, and to the feast likewise, and he has sent us onembassy to invite you. "

"We will go with you, " said Naois. 

"We will, " said his brothers. 

But Deirdre did not wish to go with Ferchar Mac Ro, and she triedevery prayer to turn Naois from going with him--she said:

"I saw a vision, Naois, and do you interpret it to me, " saidDeirdre--then she sang:

 O Naois, son of Uisnech, hear What was shown in a dream to me. 

 There came three white doves out of the South Flying over the sea, And drops of honey were in their mouth From the hive of the honey-bee. 

 O Naois, son of Uisnech, hear, What was shown in a dream to me. 

 I saw three grey hawks out of the south Come flying over the sea, And the red red drops they bare in their mouth They were dearer than life to me. 

Said Naois:--

 It is nought but the fear of woman's heart, And a dream of the night, Deirdre. 

"The day that Connachar sent the invitation to his feast will beunlucky for us if we don't go, O Deirdre. "

"You will go there, " said Ferchar Mac Ro; "and if Connachar showkindness to you, show ye kindness to him; and if he will displaywrath towards you display ye wrath towards him, and I and my threesons will be with you. "

"We will, " said Daring Drop. "We will, " said Hardy Holly. "We will, "said Fiallan the Fair. 

"I have three sons, and they are three heroes, and in any harm ordanger that may befall you, they will be with you, and I myself willbe along with them. " And Ferchar Mac Ro gave his vow and his word inpresence of his arms that, in any harm or danger that came in theway of the sons of Uisnech, he and his three sons would not leavehead on live body in Erin, despite sword or helmet, spear or shield, blade or mail, be they ever so good. 

Deirdre was unwilling to leave Alba, but she went with Naois. Deirdre wept tears in showers and she sang:

 Dear is the land, the land over there, Alba full of woods and lakes; Bitter to my heart is leaving thee, But I go away with Naois. 

Ferchar Mac Ro did not stop till he got the sons of Uisnech awaywith him, despite the suspicion of Deirdre. 

 The coracle was put to sea, The sail was hoisted to it; And the second morrow they arrived On the white shores of Erin. 

As soon as the sons of Uisnech landed in Erin, Ferchar Mac Ro sentword to Connachar, king of Ulster, that the men whom he wanted werecome, and let him now show kindness to them. "Well, " said Connachar, "I did not expect that the sons of Uisnech would come, though I sentfor them, and I am not quite ready to receive them. But there is ahouse down yonder where I keep strangers, and let them go down to ittoday, and my house will be ready before them tomorrow. "

But he that was up in the palace felt it long that he was notgetting word as to how matters were going on for those down in thehouse of the strangers. "Go you, Gelban Grednach, son of Lochlin'sKing, go you down and bring me information as to whether her formerhue and complexion are on Deirdre. If they be, I will take her outwith edge of blade and point of sword, and if not, let Naois, son ofUisnech, have her for himself, " said Connachar. 

Gelban, the cheering and charming son of Lochlin's King, went downto the place of the strangers, where the sons of Uisnech and Deirdrewere staying. He looked in through the bicker-hole on the door-leaf. Now she that he gazed upon used to go into a crimson blaze ofblushes when any one looked at her. Naois looked at Deirdre and knewthat some one was looking at her from the back of the door-leaf. Heseized one of the dice on the table before him and fired it throughthe bicker-hole, and knocked the eye out of Gelban Grednach theCheerful and Charming, right through the back of his head. Gelbanreturned back to the palace of King Connachar. 

"You were cheerful, charming, going away, but you are cheerless, charmless, returning. What has happened to you, Gelban? But have youseen her, and are Deirdre's hue and complexion as before?" saidConnachar. 

"Well, I have seen Deirdre, and I saw her also truly, and while Iwas looking at her through the bicker-hole on the door, Naois, sonof Uisnech, knocked out my eye with one of the dice in his hand. Butof a truth and verity, although he put out even my eye, it were mydesire still to remain looking at her with the other eye, were itnot for the hurry you told me to be in, " said Gelban. 

"That is true, " said Connachar; "let three hundred bravo heroes godown to the abode of the strangers, and let them bring hither to meDeirdre, and kill the rest. "

Connachar ordered three hundred active heroes to go down to theabode of the strangers and to take Deirdre up with them and kill therest. "The pursuit is coming, " said Deirdre. 

"Yes, but I will myself go out and stop the pursuit, " said Naois. 

"It is not you, but we that will go, " said Daring Drop, and HardyHolly, and Fiallan the Fair; "it is to us that our father entrustedyour defence from harm and danger when he himself left for home. "And the gallant youths, full noble, full manly, full handsome, withbeauteous brown locks, went forth girt with battle arms fit forfierce fight and clothed with combat dress for fierce contest fit, which was burnished, bright, brilliant, bladed, blazing, on whichwere many pictures of beasts and birds and creeping things, lionsand lithe-limbed tigers, brown eagle and harrying hawk and adderfierce; and the young heroes laid low three-thirds of the company. 

Connachar came out in haste and cried with wrath: "Who is there onthe floor of fight, slaughtering my men?"

"We, the three sons of Ferchar Mac Ro. "

"Well, " said the king, "I will give a free bridge to yourgrandfather, a free bridge to your father, and a free bridge each toyou three brothers, if you come over to my side tonight. "

"Well, Connachar, we will not accept that offer from you nor thankyou for it. Greater by far do we prefer to go home to our father andtell the deeds of heroism we have done, than accept anything onthese terms from you. Naois, son of Uisnech, and Allen and Arden areas nearly related to yourself as they are to us, though you are sokeen to shed their blood, and you would shed our blood also, Connachar. " And the noble, manly, handsome youths with beauteous, brown locks returned inside. "We are now, " said they, "going home totell our father that you are now safe from the hands of the king. "And the youths all fresh and tall and lithe and beautiful, went hometo their father to tell that the sons of Uisnech were safe. Thishappened at the parting of the day and night in the morning twilighttime, and Naois said they must go away, leave that house, and returnto Alba. 

Naois and Deirdre, Allan and Arden started to return to Alba. Wordcame to the king that the company he was in pursuit of were gone. The king then sent for Duanan Gacha Druid, the best magician he had, and he spoke to him as follows:--"Much wealth have I expended onyou, Duanan Gacha Druid, to give schooling and learning and magicmystery to you, if these people get away from me today without care, without consideration or regard for me, without chance of overtakingthem, and without power to stop them. "

"Well, I will stop them, " said the magician, "until the company yousend in pursuit return. " And the magician placed a wood before themthrough which no man could go, but the sons of Uisnech marchedthrough the wood without halt or hesitation, and Deirdre held on toNaois's hand. 

"What is the good of that? that will not do yet, " said Connachar. "They are off without bending of their feet or stopping of theirstep, without heed or respect to me, and I am without power to keepup to them or opportunity to turn them back this night. "

"I will try another plan on them, " said the druid; and he placedbefore them a grey sea instead of a green plain. The three heroesstripped and tied their clothes behind their heads, and Naois placedDeirdre on the top of his shoulder. 

 They stretched their sides to the stream, And sea and land were to them the same, The rough grey ocean was the same As meadow-land green and plain. 

"Though that be good, O Duanan, it will not make the heroes return, "said Connachar; "they are gone without regard for me, and withouthonour to me, and without power on my part to pursue them or toforce them to return this night. "

"We shall try another method on them, since yon one did not stopthem, " said the druid. And the druid froze the grey ridged sea intohard rocky knobs, the sharpness of sword being on the one edge andthe poison power of adders on the other. Then Arden cried that hewas getting tired, and nearly giving over. "Come you, Arden, and siton my right shoulder, " said Naois. Arden came and sat, on Naois'sshoulder. Arden was long in this posture when he died; but though hewas dead Naois would not let him go. Allen then cried out that hewas getting faint and nigh-well giving up. When Naois heard hisprayer, he gave forth the piercing sigh of death, and asked Allen tolay hold of him and he would bring him to land. 

Allen was not long when the weakness of death came on him and hishold failed. Naois looked around, and when he saw his two well-beloved brothers dead, he cared not whether he lived or died, and hegave forth the bitter sigh of death, and his heart burst. 

"They are gone, " said Duanan Gacha Druid to the king, "and I havedone what you desired me. The sons of Uisnech are dead and they willtrouble you no more; and you have your wife hale and whole toyourself. "

"Blessings for that upon you and may the good results accrue to me, Duanan. I count it no loss what I spent in the schooling andteaching of you. Now dry up the flood, and let me see if I canbehold Deirdre, " said Connachar. And Duanan Gacha Druid dried up theflood from the plain and the three sons of Uisnech were lyingtogether dead, without breath of life, side by side on the greenmeadow plain and Deirdre bending above showering down her tears. 

Then Deirdre said this lament: "Fair one, loved one, flower ofbeauty; beloved upright and strong; beloved noble and modestwarrior. Fair one, blue-eyed, beloved of thy wife; lovely to me atthe trysting-place came thy clear voice through the woods ofIreland. I cannot eat or smile henceforth. Break not to-day, myheart: soon enough shall I lie within my grave. Strong are the wavesof sorrow, but stronger is sorrow's self, Connachar. "

The people then gathered round the heroes' bodies and askedConnachar what was to be done with the bodies. The order that hegave was that they should dig a pit and put the three brothers in itside by side. 

Deirdre kept sitting on the brink of the grave, constantly askingthe gravediggers to dig the pit wide and free. When the bodies ofthe brothers were put in the grave, Deirdre said:--

 Come over hither, Naois, my love, Let Arden close to Allen lie; If the dead had any sense to feel, Ye would have made a place for Deirdre. 

The men did as she told them. She jumped into the grave and lay downby Naois, and she was dead by his side. 

The king ordered the body to be raised from out the grave and to beburied on the other side of the loch. It was done as the king bade, and the pit closed. Thereupon a fir shoot grew out of the grave ofDeirdre and a fir shoot from the grave of Naois, and the two shootsunited in a knot above the loch. The king ordered the shoots to becut down, and this was done twice, until, at the third time, thewife whom the king had married caused him to stop this work of eviland his vengeance on the remains of the dead. 

MUNACHAR AND MANACHAR

There once lived a Munachar and a Manachar, a long time ago, and itis a long time since it was, and if they were alive now they wouldnot be alive then. They went out together to pick raspberries, andas many as Munachar used to pick Manachar used to eat. Munachar saidhe must go look for a rod to make a gad to hang Manachar, who atehis raspberries every one; and he came to the rod. "What news theday?" said the rod. "It is my own news that I'm seeking. Goinglooking for a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, whoate my raspberries every one. "

"You will not get me, " said the rod, "until you get an axe to cutme. " He came to the axe. "What news to-day?" said the axe. "It's myown news I'm seeking. Going looking for an axe, an axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberriesevery one. "

"You will not get me, " said the axe, "until you get a flag to edgeme. " He came to the flag. "What news today?" says the flag. "It's myown news I'm seeking. Going looking for a flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, whoate my raspberries every one. "

"You will not get me, " says the flag, "till you get water to wetme. " He came to the water. "What news to-day?" says the water. "It'smy own news that I'm seeking. Going looking for water, water to wetflag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gadto hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one. "

"You will not get me, " said the water, "until you get a deer whowill swim me. " He came to the deer. "What news to-day?" says thedeer. "It's my own news I'm seeking. Going looking for a deer, deerto swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut arod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate myraspberries every one. "

"You will not get me, " said the deer, "until you get a hound whowill hunt me. " He came to the hound. "What news to-day?" says thehound. "It's my own news I'm seeking. Going looking for a hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag toedge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hangManachar, who ate my raspberries every one. "

"You will not get me, " said the hound, "until you get a bit ofbutter to put in my claw. " He came to the butter. "What news to-day?" says the butter. "It's my own news I'm seeking. Going lookingfor butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deerto swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut arod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate myraspberries every one. "

"You will not get me, " said the butter, "until you get a cat whoshall scrape me. " He came to the cat. "What news to-day?" said thecat. "It's my own news I'm seeking. Going looking for a cat, cat toscrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cuta rod, a rod to make a gad, gad to hang Manachar, who ate myraspberries every one. "

"You will not get me, " said the cat, "until you will get milk whichyou will give me. " He came to the cow. "What news to-day?" said thecow. "It's my own news I'm seeking. Going looking for a cow, cow togive me milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swimwater, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rodto make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries everyone. "

"You will not get any milk from me, " said the cow, "until you bringme a whisp of straw from those threshers yonder. " He came to thethreshers. "What news to-day?" said the threshers. "It's my own newsI'm seeking. Going looking for a whisp of straw from ye to give tothe cow, the cow to give me milk, milk I will give to the cat, catto scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cuta rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate myraspberries every one. "

"You will not get any whisp of straw from us, " said the threshers, "until you bring us the makings of a cake from the miller overyonder. " He came to the miller. "What news to-day?" said the miller. "It's my own news I'm seeking. Going looking for the makings of acake which I will give to the threshers, the threshers to give me awhisp of straw, the whisp of straw I will give to the cow, the cowto give me milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swimwater, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rodto make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries everyone. "

"You will not get any makings of a cake from me, " said the miller, "till you bring me the full of that sieve of water from the riverover there. "

He took the sieve in his hand and went over to the river, but asoften as ever he would stoop and fill it with water, the moment heraised it the water would run out of it again, and sure, if he hadbeen there from that day till this, he never could have filled it. Acrow went flying by him, over his head. "Daub! daub!" said the crow. 

"My blessings on ye, then, " said Munachar, "but it's the good adviceyou have, " and he took the red clay and the daub that was by thebrink, and he rubbed it to the bottom of the sieve, until all theholes were filled, and then the sieve held the water, and he broughtthe water to the miller, and the miller gave him the makings of acake, and he gave the makings of the cake to the threshers, and thethreshers gave him a whisp of straw, and he gave the whisp of strawto the cow, and the cow gave him milk, the milk he gave to the cat, the cat scraped the butter, the butter went into the claw of thehound, the hound hunted the deer, the deer swam the water, the waterwet the flag, the flag sharpened the axe, the axe cut the rod, andthe rod made a gad, and when he had it ready to hang Manachar hefound that Manachar had BURST. 

GOLD-TREE AND SILVER-TREE

Once upon a time there was a king who had a wife, whose name wasSilver-tree, and a daughter, whose name was Gold-tree. On a certainday of the days, Gold-tree and Silver-tree went to a glen, wherethere was a well, and in it there was a trout. 

Said Silver-tree, "Troutie, bonny little fellow, am not I the mostbeautiful queen in the world?"

"Oh! indeed you are not. "

"Who then?"

"Why, Gold-tree, your daughter. "

Silver-tree went home, blind with rage. She lay down on the bed, andvowed she would never be well until she could get the heart and theliver of Gold-tree, her daughter, to eat. 

At nightfall the king came home, and it was told him that Silver-tree, his wife, was very ill. He went where she was, and asked herwhat was wrong with her. 

"Oh! only a thing--which you may heal if you like. "

"Oh! indeed there is nothing at all which I could do for you that Iwould not do. "

"If I get the heart and the liver of Gold-tree, my daughter, to eat, I shall be well. "

Now it happened about this time that the son of a great king hadcome from abroad to ask Gold-tree for marrying. The king now agreedto this, and they went abroad. 

The king then went and sent his lads to the hunting-hill for a he-goat, and he gave its heart and its liver to his wife to eat; andshe rose well and healthy. 

A year after this Silver-tree went to the glen, where there was thewell in which there was the trout. 

"Troutie, bonny little fellow, " said she, "am not I the mostbeautiful queen in the world?"

"Oh! indeed you are not. "

"Who then?"

"Why, Gold-tree, your daughter. "

"Oh! well, it is long since she was living. It is a year since I ateher heart and liver. "

"Oh! indeed she is not dead. She is married to a great princeabroad. "

Silver-tree went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship inorder, and said, "I am going to see my dear Gold-tree, for it is solong since I saw her. " The long-ship was put in order, and they wentaway. 

It was Silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered theship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived. 

The prince was out hunting on the hills. Gold-tree knew the long-ship of her father coming. 

"Oh!" said she to the servants, "my mother is coming, and she willkill me. "

"She shall not kill you at all; we will lock you in a room where shecannot get near you. "

This is how it was done; and when Silver-tree came ashore, she beganto cry out:

"Come to meet your own mother, when she comes to see you, " Gold-treesaid that she could not, that she was locked in the room, and thatshe could not get out of it. 

"Will you not put out, " said Silver-tree, "your little fingerthrough the key-hole, so that your own mother may give a kiss toit?"

She put out her little finger, and Silver-tree went and put apoisoned stab in it, and Gold-tree fell dead. 

When the prince came home, and found Gold-tree dead, he was in greatsorrow, and when he saw how beautiful she was, he did not bury herat all, but he locked her in a room where nobody would get near her. 

In the course of time he married again, and the whole house wasunder the hand of this wife but one room, and he himself always keptthe key of that room. On a certain day of the days he forgot to takethe key with him, and the second wife got into the room. What didshe see there but the most beautiful woman that she ever saw. 

She began to turn and try to wake her, and she noticed the poisonedstab in her finger. She took the stab out, and Gold-tree rose alive, as beautiful as she was ever. 

At the fall of night the prince came home from the hunting-hill, looking very downcast. 

"What gift, " said his wife, "would you give me that I could make youlaugh?"

"Oh! indeed, nothing could make me laugh, except Gold-tree were tocome alive again. "

"Well, you'll find her alive down there in the room. "

When the prince saw Gold-tree alive he made great rejoicings, and hebegan to kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Said the second wife, "Since she is the first one you had it is better for you to stick toher, and I will go away. "

"Oh! indeed you shall not go away, but I shall have both of you. "

At the end of the year, Silver-tree went to the glen, where therewas the well, in which there was the trout. 

"Troutie, bonny little fellow, " said she, "am not I the mostbeautiful queen in the world?"

"Oh! indeed you are not. "

"Who then?"

"Why, Gold-tree, your daughter. "

"Oh! well, she is not alive. It is a year since I put the poisonedstab into her finger. "

"Oh! indeed she is not dead at all, at all. "

Silver-tree, went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship inorder, for that she was going to see her dear Gold-tree, as it wasso long since she saw her. The long-ship was put in order, and theywent away. It was Silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and shesteered the ship so well that they were not long at all before theyarrived. 

The prince was out hunting on the hills. Gold-tree knew her father'sship coming. 

"Oh!" said she, "my mother is coming, and she will kill me. "

"Not at all, " said the second wife; "we will go down to meet her. "

Silver-tree came ashore. "Come down, Gold-tree, love, " said she, "for your own mother has come to you with a precious drink. "

"It is a custom in this country, " said the second wife, "that theperson who offers a drink takes a draught out of it first. "

Silver-tree put her mouth to it, and the second wife went and struckit so that some of it went down her throat, and she fell dead. Theyhad only to carry her home a dead corpse and bury her. 

The prince and his two wives were long alive after this, pleased andpeaceful. 

I left them there. 

KING O'TOOLE AND HIS GOOSE

Och, I thought all the world, far and near, had heerd o' KingO'Toole--well, well, but the darkness of mankind is untellible!Well, sir, you must know, as you didn't hear it afore, that therewas a king, called King O'Toole, who was a fine old king in the oldancient times, long ago; and it was he that owned the churches inthe early days. The king, you see, was the right sort; he was thereal boy, and loved sport as he loved his life, and hunting inparticular; and from the rising o' the sun, up he got, and away hewent over the mountains after the deer; and fine times they were. 

Well, it was all mighty good, as long as the king had his health;but, you see, in course of time the king grew old, by raison he wasstiff in his limbs, and when he got stricken in years, his heartfailed him, and he was lost entirely for want o' diversion, becausehe couldn't go a-hunting no longer; and, by dad, the poor king wasobliged at last to get a goose to divert him. Oh, you may laugh, ifyou like, but it's truth I'm telling you; and the way the goosediverted him was this-a-way: You see, the goose used to swim acrossthe lake, and go diving for trout, and catch fish on a Friday forthe king, and flew every other day round about the lake, divertingthe poor king. All went on mighty well until, by dad, the goose gotstricken in years like her master, and couldn't divert him nolonger, and then it was that the poor king was lost entirely. Theking was walkin' one mornin' by the edge of the lake, lamentin' hiscruel fate, and thinking of drowning himself, that could get nodiversion in life, when all of a sudden, turning round the corner, who should he meet but a mighty decent young man coming up to him. 

"God save you, " says the king to the young man. 

"God save you kindly, King O'Toole, " says the young man. 

"True for you, " says the king. "I am King O'Toole, " says he, "princeand plennypennytinchery of these parts, " says he; "but how came yeto know that?" says he. 

"Oh, never mind, " says St. Kavin. 

You see it was Saint Kavin, sure enough--the saint himself indisguise, and nobody else. "Oh, never mind, " says he, "I know morethan that. May I make bold to ask how is your goose, King O'Toole?"says he. 

"Blur-an-agers, how came ye to know about my goose?" says the king. 

"Oh, no matter; I was given to understand it, " says Saint Kavin. 

After some more talk the king says, "What are you?"

"I'm an honest man, " says Saint Kavin. 

"Well, honest man, " says the king, "and how is it you make yourmoney so aisy?"

"By makin' old things as good as new, " says Saint Kavin. 

"Is it a tinker you are?" says the king. 

"No, " says the saint; "I'm no tinker by trade, King O'Toole; I've abetter trade than a tinker, " says he--"what would you say, " says he, "if I made your old goose as good as new?"

My dear, at the word of making his goose as good as new, you'd thinkthe poor old king's eyes were ready to jump out of his head. Withthat the king whistled, and down came the poor goose, just like ahound, waddling up to the poor cripple, her master, and as like himas two peas. The minute the saint clapt his eyes on the goose, "I'lldo the job for you, " says he, "King O'Toole. "

"By _Jaminee_!" says King O'Toole, "if you do, I'll say you'rethe cleverest fellow in the seven parishes. "

"Oh, by dad, " says St. Kavin, "you must say more nor that--my horn'snot so soft all out, " says he, "as to repair your old goose fornothing; what'll you gi' me if I do the job for you?--that's thechat, " says St. Kavin. 

"I'll give you whatever you ask, " says the king; "isn't that fair?"

"Divil a fairer, " says the saint; "that's the way to do business. Now, " says he, "this is the bargain I'll make with you, KingO'Toole: will you gi' me all the ground the goose flies over, thefirst offer, after I make her as good as new?"

"I will, " says the king. 

"You won't go back o' your word?" says St. Kavin. 

"Honour bright!" says King O'Toole, holding out his fist. 

"Honour bright!" says St. Kavin, back agin, "it's a bargain. Comehere!" says he to the poor old goose--"come here, you unfortunateould cripple, and it's I that'll make you the sporting bird. " Withthat, my dear, he took up the goose by the two wings--"Criss o' mycross an you, " says he, markin' her to grace with the blessed signat the same minute--and throwing her up in the air, "whew, " says he, jist givin' her a blast to help her; and with that, my jewel, shetook to her heels, flyin' like one o' the eagles themselves, andcutting as many capers as a swallow before a shower of rain. 

Well, my dear, it was a beautiful sight to see the king standingwith his mouth open, looking at his poor old goose flying as lightas a lark, and better than ever she was: and when she lit at hisfeet, patted her on the head, and "_Ma vourneen_, " says he, "but you are the _darlint_ o' the world. "

"And what do you say to me, " says 'Saint Kavin, "for making her thelike?"

"By Jabers, " says the king, "I say nothing beats the art o' man, barring the bees. "

"And do you say no more nor that?" says Saint Kavin. 

"And that I'm beholden to you, " says the king. 

"But will you gi'e me all the ground the goose flew over?" saysSaint Kavin. 

"I will, " says King O'Toole, "and you're welcome to it, " says he, "though it's the last acre I have to give. "

"But you'll keep your word true?" says the saint. 

"As true as the sun, " says the king. 

"It's well for you, King O'Toole, that you said that word, " says he;"for if you didn't say that word, the devil the bit o' your goosewould ever fly agin. "

When the king was as good as his word, Saint Kavin was pleased withhim, and then it was that he made himself known to the king. "And, "says he, "King O'Toole, you're a decent man, for I only came here totry you. You don't know me, " says he, "because I'm disguised. "

"Musha! then, " says the king, "who are you?"

"I'm Saint Kavin, " said the saint, blessing himself. 

"Oh, queen of heaven!" says the king, making the sign of the crossbetween his eyes, and falling down on his knees before the saint;"is it the great Saint Kavin, " says he, "that I've been discoursingall this time without knowing it, " says he, "all as one as if he wasa lump of a _gossoon_?--and so you're a saint?" says the king. 

"I am, " says Saint Kavin. 

"By Jabers, I thought I was only talking to a dacent boy, " says theking. 

"Well, you know the difference now, " says the saint. "I'm SaintKavin, " says he, "the greatest of all the saints. ". 

And so the king had his goose as good as new, to divert him as longas he lived: and the saint supported him after he came into hisproperty, as I told you, until the day of his death--and that wassoon after; for the poor goose thought he was catching a trout oneFriday; but, my jewel, it was a mistake he made--and instead of atrout, it was a thieving horse-eel; and instead of the goose killinga trout for the king's supper--by dad, the eel killed the king'sgoose--and small blame to him; but he didn't ate her, because hedarn't ate what Saint Kavin had laid his blessed hands on. 

THE WOOING OF OLWEN

Shortly after the birth of Kilhuch, the son of King Kilyth, hismother died. Before her death she charged the king that he shouldnot take a wife again until he saw a briar with two blossoms uponher grave, and the king sent every morning to see if anything weregrowing thereon. After many years the briar appeared, and he took towife the widow of King Doged. She foretold to her stepson, Kilhuch, that it was his destiny to marry a maiden named Olwen, or noneother, and he, at his father's bidding, went to the court of hiscousin, King Arthur, to ask as a boon the hand of the maiden. Herode upon a grey steed with shell-formed hoofs, having a bridle oflinked gold, and a saddle also of gold. In his hand were two spearsof silver, well-tempered, headed with steel, of an edge to wound thewind and cause blood to flow, and swifter than the fall of the dew-drop from the blade of reed grass upon the earth when the dew ofJune is at its heaviest. A gold-hilted sword was on his thigh, andthe blade was of gold, having inlaid upon it a cross of the hue ofthe lightning of heaven. Two brindled, white-breasted greyhounds, with strong collars of rubies, sported round him, and his coursercast up four sods with its four hoofs like four swallows about hishead. Upon the steed was a four-cornered cloth of purple, and anapple of gold was at each corner. Precious gold was upon thestirrups and shoes, and the blade of grass bent not beneath them, solight was the courser's tread as he went towards the gate of KingArthur's palace. 

Arthur received him with great ceremony, and asked him to remain atthe palace; but the youth replied that he came not to consume meatand drink, but to ask a boon of the king. 

Then said Arthur, "Since thou wilt not remain here, chieftain, thoushalt receive the boon, whatsoever thy tongue may name, as far asthe wind dries and the rain moistens, and the sun revolves, and thesea encircles, and the earth extends, save only my ships and mymantle, my sword, my lance, my shield, my dagger, and Guinevere mywife. "

So Kilhuch craved of him the hand of Olwen, the daughter ofYspathaden Penkawr, and also asked the favour and aid of allArthur's court. 

Then said Arthur, "O chieftain, I have never heard of the maiden ofwhom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but I will gladly sendmessengers in search of her. "

And the youth said, "I will willingly grant from this night to thatat the end of the year to do so. "

Then Arthur sent messengers to every land within his dominions toseek for the maiden; and at the end of the year Arthur's messengersreturned without having gained any knowledge or informationconcerning Olwen more than on the first day. 

Then said Kilhuch, "Every one has received his boon, and I yet lackmine. I will depart and bear away thy honour with me. "

Then said Kay, "Rash chieftain! dost thou reproach Arthur? Go withus, and we will not part until thou dost either confess that themaiden exists not in the world, or until we obtain her. "

Thereupon Kay rose up. 

Kay had this peculiarity, that his breath lasted nine nights andnine days under water, and he could exist nine nights and nine dayswithout sleep. A wound from Kay's sword no physician could heal. Very subtle was Kay. When it pleased him he could render himself astall as the highest tree in the forest. And he had anotherpeculiarity--so great was the heat of his nature, that, when itrained hardest, whatever he carried remained dry for a handbreadthabove and a handbreadth below his hand; and when his companions werecoldest, it was to them as fuel with which to light their fire. 

And Arthur called Bedwyr, who never shrank from any enterprise uponwhich Kay was bound. None was equal to him in swiftness throughoutthis island except Arthur and Drych Ail Kibthar. And although he wasone-handed, three warriors could not shed blood faster than he onthe field of battle. Another property he had; his lance wouldproduce a wound equal to those of nine opposing lances. 

And Arthur called to Kynthelig the guide. "Go thou upon thisexpedition with the Chieftain. " For as good a guide was he in a landwhich he had never seen as he was in his own. 

He called Gwrhyr Gwalstawt Ieithoedd, because he knew all tongues. 

He called Gwalchmai, the son of Gwyar, because he never returnedhome without achieving the adventure of which he went in quest. Hewas the best of footmen and the best of knights. He was nephew toArthur, the son of his sister, and his cousin. 

And Arthur called Menw, the son of Teirgwaeth, in order that if theywent into a savage country, he might cast a charm and an illusionover them, so that none might see them whilst they could see everyone. 

They journeyed on till they came to a vast open plain, wherein theysaw a great castle, which was the fairest in the world. But so faraway was it that at night it seemed no nearer, and they scarcelyreached it on the third day. When they came before the castle theybeheld a vast flock of sheep, boundless and without end. They toldtheir errand to the herdsman, who endeavoured to dissuade them, since none who had come thither on that quest had returned alive. They gave to him a gold ring, which he conveyed to his wife, tellingher who the visitors were. 

On the approach of the latter, she ran out with joy to greet them, and sought to throw her arms about their necks. But Kay, snatching abillet out of the pile, placed the log between her two hands, andshe squeezed it so that it became a twisted coil. 

"O woman, " said Kay, "if thou hadst squeezed me thus, none couldever again have set their affections on me. Evil love were this. "

They entered the house, and after meat she told them that the maidenOlwen came there every Saturday to wash. They pledged their faiththat they would not harm her, and a message was sent to her. SoOlwen came, clothed in a robe of flame-coloured silk, and with acollar of ruddy gold, in which were emeralds and rubies, about herneck. More golden was her hair than the flower of the broom, and herskin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her handsand her fingers than the blossoms of the wood anemone amidst thespray of the meadow fountain. Brighter were her glances than thoseof a falcon; her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the whiteswan, her cheek redder than the reddest roses. Whoso beheld wasfilled with her love. Four white trefoils sprang up wherever shetrod, and therefore was she called Olwen. 

Then Kilhuch, sitting beside her on a bench, told her his love, andshe said that he would win her as his bride if he granted whateverher father asked. 

Accordingly they went up to the castle and laid their request beforehim. 

"Raise up the forks beneath my two eyebrows which have fallen overmy eyes, " said Yspathaden Penkawr, "that I may see the fashion of myson-in-law. "

They did so, and he promised, them an answer on the morrow. But asthey were going forth, Yspathaden seized one of the three poisoneddarts that lay beside him and threw it back after them. 

And Bedwyr caught it and flung it back, wounding Yspathaden in theknee. 

Then said he, "A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly. I shall everwalk the worse for his rudeness. This poisoned iron pains me likethe bite of a gad-fly. Cursed be the smith who forged it, and theanvil whereon it was wrought. "

The knights rested in the house of Custennin the herdsman, but thenext day at dawn they returned to the castle and renewed theirrequest. 

Yspathaden said it was necessary that he should consult Olwen's fourgreat-grandmothers and her four great-grand-sires. 

The knights again withdrew, and as they were going he took thesecond dart and cast it after them. 

But Menw caught it and flung it back, piercing Yspathaden's breastwith it, so that it came out at the small of his back. 

"A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly, " says he, "the hard iron painsme like the bite of a horse-leech. Cursed be the hearth whereon itwas heated! Henceforth whenever I go up a hill, I shall have a scantin my breath and a pain in my chest. "

On the third day the knights returned once more to the palace, andYspathaden took the third dart and cast it at them. 

But Kilhuch caught it and threw it vigorously, and wounded himthrough the eyeball, so that the dart came out at the back of hishead. 

"A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly. As long as I remain alive myeyesight will be the worse. Whenever I go against the wind my eyeswill water, and peradventure my head will burn, and I shall have agiddiness every new moon. Cursed be the fire in which it was forged. Like the bite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron. "

And they went to meat. 

Said Yspathaden Penkawr, "Is it thou that seekest my daughter?"

"It is I, " answered Kilhuch. 

"I must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do towards me otherwisethan is just, and when I have gotten that which I shall name, mydaughter thou shalt have. "

"I promise thee that willingly, " said Kilhuch, "name what thouwilt. "

"I will do so, " said he. 

"Throughout the world there is not a comb or scissors with which Ican arrange my hair, on, account of its rankness, except the comband scissors that are between the two ears of Turch Truith, the sonof Prince Tared. He will not give them of his own free will, andthou wilt not be able to compel him. "

"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest thinkthat it will not be easy. "

"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. Itwill not be possible to hunt Turch Truith without Drudwyn the whelpof Greid, the son of Eri, and know that throughout the world thereis not a huntsman who can hunt with this dog, except Mabon the sonof Modron. He was taken from his mother when three nights old, andit is not known where he now is, nor whether he is living or dead. "

"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest thinkthat it will not be easy. "

"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. Thou wilt not get Mabon, for it is not known where he is, unlessthou find Eidoel, his kinsman in blood, the son of Aer. For it wouldbe useless to seek for him. He is his cousin. "

"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest thinkthat it will not be easy. Horses shall I have, and chivalry; and mylord and kinsman Arthur will obtain for me all these things. And Ishall gain thy daughter, and thou shalt lose thy life. "

"Go forward. And thou shalt not be chargeable for food or raimentfor my daughter while thou art seeking these things; and when thouhast compassed all these marvels, thou shalt have my daughter forwife. "

Now, when they told Arthur how they had sped, Arthur said, "Which ofthese marvels will it be best for us to seek first?"

"It will be best, " said they, "to seek Mabon the son of Modron; andhe will not be found unless we first find Eidoel, the son of Aer, his kinsman. "

Then Arthur rose up, and the warriors of the Islands of Britain withhim, to seek for Eidoel; and they proceeded until they came beforethe castle of Glivi, where Eidoel was imprisoned. 

Glivi stood on the summit of his castle, and said, "Arthur, whatrequirest thou of me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and I have neither joy nor pleasure in it; neither wheat nor oats?"

Said Arthur, "Not to injure thee came I hither, but to seek for theprisoner that is with thee. "

"I will give thee my prisoner, though I had not thought to give himup to any one; and therewith shalt thou have my support and my aid. "

His followers then said unto Arthur, "Lord, go thou home, thou canstnot proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures asthese. "

Then said Arthur, "It were well for thee, Gwrhyr GwalstawtIeithoedd, to go upon this quest, for thou knowest all languages, and art familiar with those of the birds and the beasts. Go, Eidoel, likewise with my men in search of thy cousin. And as for you, Kayand Bedwyr, I have hope of whatever adventure ye are in quest of, that ye will achieve it. Achieve ye this adventure for me. "

These went forward until they came to the Ousel of Cilgwri, andGwrhyr adjured her for the sake of Heaven, saying, "Tell me if thouknowest aught of Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken when threenights old from between his mother and the wall. "

And the Ousel answered, "When I first came here there was a smith'sanvil in this place, and I was then a young bird, and from that timeno work has been done upon it, save the pecking of my beak everyevening, and now there is not so much as the size of a nut remainingthereof; yet the vengeance of Heaven be upon me if during all thattime I have ever heard of the man for whom you inquire. Nevertheless, there is a race of animals who were formed before me, and I will be your guide to them. "

So they proceeded to the place where was the Stag of Redynvre. 

"Stag of Redynvre, behold we are come to thee, an embassy fromArthur, for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. Say, knowest thou aught of Mabon?"

The stag said, "When first I came hither there was a plain allaround me, without any trees save one oak sapling, which grew up tobe an oak with an hundred branches. And that oak has since perished, so that now nothing remains of it but the withered stump; and fromthat day to this I have been here, yet have I never heard of the manfor whom you inquire. Nevertheless, I will be your guide to theplace where there is an animal which was formed before I was. "

So they proceeded to the place where was the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd, toinquire of him concerning Mabon. 

And the owl said, "If I knew I would tell you. When first I camehither, the wide valley you see was a wooded glen. And a race of mencame and rooted it up. And there grew there a second wood, and thiswood is the third. My wings, are they not withered stumps? Yet allthis time, even until to-day, I have never heard of the man for whomyou inquire. Nevertheless, I will be the guide of Arthur's embassyuntil you come to the place where is the oldest animal in thisworld, and the one who has travelled most, the eagle of Gwern Abwy. "

When they came to the eagle, Gwrhyr asked it the same question; butit replied, "I have been here for a great space of time, and when Ifirst came hither there was a rock here, from the top of which Ipecked at the stars every evening, and now it is not so much as aspan high. From that day to this I have been here, and I have neverheard of the man for whom you inquire, except once when I went insearch of food as far as Llyn Llyw. And when I came there, I struckmy talons into a salmon, thinking he would serve me as food for along time. But he drew me into the deep, and I was scarcely able toescape from him. After that I went with my whole kindred to attackhim and to try to destroy him, but he sent messengers and made peacewith me, and came and besought me to take fifty fish-spears out ofhis back. Unless he know something of him whom you seek, I cannottell you who may. However, I will guide you to the place where heis. "

So they went thither, and the eagle said, "Salmon of Llyn Llyw, Ihave come to thee with an embassy from Arthur to ask thee if thouknowest aught concerning Mabon, the son of Modron, who was takenaway at three nights old from between his mother and the wall. "

And the salmon answered, "As much as I know I will tell thee. Withevery tide I go along the river upwards, until I come near to thewalls of Gloucester, and there have I found such wrong as I neverfound elsewhere; and to the end that ye may give credence thereto, let one of you go thither upon each of my two shoulders. "

So Kay and Gwrhyr went upon his shoulders, and they proceeded tillthey came to the wall of the prison, and they heard a great wailingand lamenting from the dungeon. Said Gwrhyr, "Who is it that lamentsin this house of stone?"

And the voice replied, "Alas, it is Mabon, the son of Modron, who ishere imprisoned!"

Then they returned and told Arthur, who, summoning his warriors, attacked the castle. 

And whilst the fight was going on, Kay and Bedwyr, mounting on theshoulders of the fish, broke into the dungeon, and brought away withthem Mabon, the son of Modron. 

Then Arthur summoned unto him all the warriors that were in thethree islands of Britain and in the three islands adjacent; and hewent as far as Esgeir Ocrvel in Ireland where the Boar Truith waswith his seven young pigs. And the dogs were let loose upon him fromall sides. But he wasted the fifth part of Ireland, and then setforth through the sea to Wales. Arthur and his hosts, and hishorses, and his dogs followed hard after him. But ever and awhilethe boar made a stand, and many a champion of Arthur's did he slay. Throughout all Wales did Arthur follow him, and one by one theyoung pigs were killed. At length, when he would fain have crossedthe Severn and escaped into Cornwall, Mabon the son of Modron cameup with him, and Arthur fell upon him together with the champions ofBritain. On the one side Mabon the son of Modron spurred his steedand snatched his razor from him, whilst Kay came up with him on theother side and took from him the scissors. But before they couldobtain the comb he had regained the ground with his feet, and fromthe moment that he reached the shore, neither dog nor man nor horsecould overtake him until he came to Cornwall. There Arthur and hishosts followed in his track until they overtook him in Cornwall. Hard had been their trouble before, but it was child's play to whatthey met in seeking the comb. Win it they did, and the Boar Truiththey hunted into the deep sea, and it was never known whither hewent. 

Then Kilhuch set forward, and as many as wished ill to YspathadenPenkawr. And they took the marvels with them to his court. And Kawof North Britain came and shaved his beard, skin and flesh clean offto the very bone from ear to ear. 

"Art thou shaved, man?" said Kilhuch. 

"I am shaved, " answered he. 

"Is thy daughter mine now?"

"She is thine, but therefore needst thou not thank me, but Arthurwho hath accomplished this for thee. By my free will thou shouldstnever have had her, for with her I lose my life. "

Then Goreu the son of Custennin seized him by the hair of his headand dragged him after him to the keep, and cut off his head andplaced it on a stake on the citadel. 

Thereafter the hosts of Arthur dispersed themselves each man to hisown country. 

Thus did Kilhuch son of Kelython win to wife Olwen, the daughter ofYspathaden Penkawr. 

JACK AND HIS COMRADES

Once there was a poor widow, as often there has been, and she hadone son. A very scarce summer came, and they didn't know how they'dlive till the new potatoes would be fit for eating. So Jack said tohis mother one evening, "Mother, bake my cake, and kill my hen, tillI go seek my fortune; and if I meet it, never fear but I'll soon beback to share it with you. "

So she did as he asked her, and he set out at break of day on hisjourney. His mother came along with him to the yard gate, and saysshe, "Jack, which would you rather have, half the cake and half thehen with my blessing, or the whole of 'em with my curse?"

"O musha, mother, " says Jack, "why do you ax me that question? sureyou know I wouldn't have your curse and Damer's estate along withit. "

"Well, then, Jack, " says she, "here's the whole lot of 'em with mythousand blessings along with them. " So she stood on the yard fenceand blessed him as far as her eyes could see him. 

Well, he went along and along till he was tired, and ne'er afarmer's house he went into wanted a boy. At last his road led bythe side of a bog, and there was a poor ass up to his shoulders neara big bunch of grass he was striving to come at. 

"Ah, then, Jack asthore, " says he, "help me out or I'll be drowned. "

"Never say't twice, " says Jack, and be pitched in big stones andsods into the slob, till the ass got good ground under him. 

"Thank you, Jack, " says he, when he was out on the hard road; "I'lldo as much for you another time. Where are you going?"

"Faith, I'm going to seek my fortune till harvest comes in, Godbless it!"

"And if you like, " says the ass, "I'll go along with you; who knowswhat luck we may have!"

"With all my heart, it's getting late, let us be jogging. "

Well, they were going through a village, and a whole army ofgossoons were hunting a poor dog with a kettle tied to his tail. Heran up to Jack for protection, and the ass let such a roar out ofhim, that the little thieves took to their heels as if the ould boywas after them. 

"More power to you, Jack, " says the dog. 

"I'm much obleeged to you: where is the baste and yourself going?"

"We're going to seek our fortune till harvest comes in. "

"And wouldn't I be proud to go with you!" says the dog, "and get ridof them ill conducted boys; purshuin' to 'em. "

"Well, well, throw your tail over your arm, and come along. "

They got outside the town, and sat down under an old wall, and Jackpulled out his bread and meat, and shared with the dog; and the assmade his dinner on a bunch of thistles. While they were eating andchatting, what should come by but a poor half-starved cat, and themoll-row he gave out of him would make your heart ache. 

"You look as if you saw the tops of nine houses since breakfast, "says Jack; "here's a bone and something on it. "

"May your child never know a hungry belly!" says Tom; "it's myselfthat's in need of your kindness. May I be so bold as to ask whereyez are all going?"

"We're going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in, and youmay join us if you like. "

"And that I'll do with a heart and a half, " says the cat, "andthank'ee for asking me. "'

Off they set again, and just as the shadows of the trees were threetimes as long as themselves, they heard a great cackling in a fieldinside the road, and out over the ditch jumped a fox with a fineblack cock in his mouth. 

"Oh, you anointed villain!" says the ass, roaring like thunder. 

"At him, good dog!" says Jack, and the word wasn't out of his mouthwhen Coley was in full sweep after the Red Dog. Reynard dropped hisprize like a hot potato, and was off like shot, and the poor cockcame back fluttering and trembling to Jack and his comrades. 

"O musha, naybours!" says he, "wasn't it the height o' luck thatthrew you in my way! Maybe I won't remember your kindness if ever Ifind you in hardship; and where in the world are you all going?"

"We're going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in; you mayjoin our party if you like, and sit on Neddy's crupper when yourlegs and wings are tired. "

Well, the march began again, and just as the sun was gone down theylooked around, and there was neither cabin nor farm house in sight. 

"Well, well, " says Jack, "the worse luck now the better anothertime, and it's only a summer night after all. We'll go into thewood, and make our bed on the long grass. "

No sooner said than done. Jack stretched himself on a bunch of drygrass, the ass lay near him, the dog and cat lay in the ass's warmlap, and the cock went to roost in the next tree. 

Well, the soundness of deep sleep was over them all, when the cocktook a notion of crowing. 

"Bother you, Black Cock!" says the ass: "you disturbed me from asnice a wisp of hay as ever I tasted. What's the matter?"

"It's daybreak that's the matter: don't you see light yonder?"

"I see a light indeed, " says Jack, "but it's from a candle it'scoming, and not from the sun. As you've roused us we may as well goover, and ask for lodging. "

So they all shook themselves, and went on through grass, and rocks, and briars, till they got down into a hollow, and there was thelight coming through the shadow, and along with it came singing, andlaughing, and cursing. 

"Easy, boys!" says Jack: "walk on your tippy toes till we see whatsort of people we have to deal with. "

So they crept near the window, and there they saw six robbersinside, with pistols, and blunderbushes, and cutlashes, sitting at atable, eating roast beef and pork, and drinking mulled beer, andwine, and whisky punch. 

"Wasn't that a fine haul we made at the Lord of Dunlavin's!" saysone ugly-looking thief with his mouth full, "and it's little we'dget only for the honest porter! here's his purty health!"

"The porter's purty health!" cried out every one of them, and Jackbent his finger at his comrades. 

"Close your ranks, my men, " says he in a whisper, "and let every onemind the word of command. "

So the ass put his fore-hoofs on the sill of the window, the dog goton the ass's head, the cat on the dog's head, and the cock on thecat's head. Then Jack made a sign, and they all sung out like mad. 

"Hee-haw, hee-haw!" roared the ass; "bow-wow!" barked the dog;"meaw-meaw!" cried the cat; "cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed the cock. 

"Level your pistols!" cried Jack, "and make smithereens of 'em. Don't leave a mother's son of 'em alive; present, fire!" With thatthey gave another halloo, and smashed every pane in the window. Therobbers were frightened out of their lives. They blew out thecandles, threw down the table, and skelped out at the back door asif they were in earnest, and never drew rein till they were in thevery heart of the wood. 

Jack and his party got into the room, closed the shutters, lightedthe candles, and ate and drank till hunger and thirst were gone. Then they lay down to rest;--Jack in the bed, the ass in the stable, the dog on the door-mat, the cat by the fire, and the cock on theperch. 

At first the robbers were very glad to find themselves safe in thethick wood, but they soon began to get vexed. 

"This damp grass is very different from our warm room, " says one. 

"I was obliged to drop a fine pig's foot, " says another. 

"I didn't get a tayspoonful of my last tumbler, " says another. 

"And all the Lord of Dunlavin's gold and silver that we leftbehind!" says the last. 

"I think I'll venture back, " says the captain, "and see if we canrecover anything. "

"That's a good boy!" said they all, and away he went. 

The lights were all out, and so he groped his way to the fire, andthere the cat flew in his face, and tore him with teeth and claws. He let a roar out of him, and made for the room door, to look for acandle inside. He trod on the dog's tail, and if he did, he got themarks of his teeth in his arms, and legs, and thighs. 

"Thousand murders!" cried he; "I wish I was out of this unluckyhouse. "

When he got to the street door, the cock dropped down upon him withhis claws and bill, and what the cat and dog done to him was only aflay-bite to what he got from the cock. 

"Oh, tattheration to you all, you unfeeling vagabones!" says he, when he recovered his breath; and he staggered and spun round andround till he reeled into the stable, back foremost, but the assreceived him with a kick on the broadest part of his small clothes, and laid him comfortably on the dunghill. 

When he came to himself, he scratched his head, and began to thinkwhat happened him; and as soon as he found that his legs were ableto carry him, he crawled away, dragging one foot after another, tillhe reached the wood. 

"Well, well, " cried them all, when he came within hearing, "anychance of our property?"

"You may say chance, " says he, "and it's itself is the poor chanceall out. Ah, will any of you pull a bed of dry grass for me? All thesticking-plaster in Enniscorthy will be too little for the cuts andbruises I have on me. Ah, if you only knew what I have gone throughfor you! When I got to the kitchen fire, looking for a sod oflighted turf, what should be there but an old woman carding flax, and you may see the marks she left on my face with the cards. I madeto the room door as fast as I could, and who should I stumble overbut a cobbler and his seat, and if he did not work at me with hisawls and his pinchers you may call me a rogue. Well, I got away fromhim somehow, but when I was passing through the door, it must be thedivel himself that pounced down on me with his claws, and his teeth, that were equal to sixpenny nails, and his wings--ill luck be in hisroad! Well, at last I reached the stable, and there, by way ofsalute, I got a pelt from a sledge-hammer that sent me half a mileoff. If you don't believe me, I'll give you leave to go and judgefor yourselves. "

"Oh, my poor captain, " says they, "we believe you to the nines. Catch us, indeed, going within a hen's race of that unlucky cabin!"

Well, before the sun shook his doublet next morning, Jack and hiscomrades were up and about. They made a hearty breakfast on what wasleft the night before, and then they all agreed to set off to thecastle of the Lord of Dunlavin, and give him back all his gold andsilver. Jack put it all in the two ends of a sack and laid it acrossNeddy's back, and all took the road in their hands. Away they went, through bogs, up hills, down dales, and sometimes along the yellowhigh road, till they came to the hall-door of the Lord of Dunlavin, and who should be there, airing his powdered head, his whitestockings, and his red breeches, but the thief of a porter. 

He gave a cross look to the visitors, and says he to Jack, "What doyou want here, my fine fellow? there isn't room for you all. "

"We want, " says Jack, "what I'm sure you haven't to give us--andthat is, common civility. "

"Come, be off, you lazy strollers!" says he, "while a cat 'ud belicking her ear, or I'll let the dogs at you. "

"Would you tell a body, " says the cock that was perched on the ass'shead, "who was it that opened the door for the robbers the othernight?"

Ah! maybe the porter's red face didn't turn the colour of his frill, and the Lord of Dunlavin and his pretty daughter, that were standingat the parlour window unknownst to the porter, put out their heads. 

"I'd be glad, Barney, " says the master, "to hear your answer to thegentleman with the red comb on him. "

"Ah, my lord, don't believe the rascal; sure I didn't open the doorto the six robbers. "

"And how did you know there were six, you poor innocent?" said thelord. 

"Never mind, sir, " says Jack, "all your gold and silver is there inthat sack, and I don't think you will begrudge us our supper and bedafter our long march from the wood of Athsalach. "

"Begrudge, indeed! Not one of you will ever see a poor day if I canhelp it. "

So all were welcomed to their heart's content, and the ass and thedog and the cock got the best posts in the farmyard, and the cattook possession of the kitchen. The lord took Jack in hands, dressedhim from top to toe in broadcloth, and frills as white as snow, andturnpumps, and put a watch in his fob. When they sat down to dinner, the lady of the house said Jack had the air of a born gentlemanabout him, and the lord said he'd make him his steward. Jack broughthis mother, and settled her comfortably near the castle, and allwere as happy as you please. 

THE SHEE AN GANNON AND THE GRUAGACH GAIRE

The Shee an Gannon was born in the morning, named at noon, and wentin the evening to ask his daughter of the king of Erin. 

"I will give you my daughter in marriage, " said the king of Erin;"you won't get her, though, unless you go and bring me back thetidings that I want, and tell me what it is that put a stop to thelaughing of the Gruagach Gaire, who before this laughed always, andlaughed so loud that the whole world heard him. There are twelveiron spikes out here in the garden behind my castle. On eleven ofthe spikes are the heads of kings' sons who came seeking mydaughter in marriage, and all of them went away to get the knowledgeI wanted. Not one was able to get it and tell me what stopped theGruagach Gaire from laughing. I took the heads off them all whenthey came back without the tidings for which they went, and I'mgreatly in dread that your head'll be on the twelfth spike, for I'lldo the same to you that I did to the eleven kings' sons unless youtell what put a stop to the laughing of the Gruagach. "

The Shee an Gannon made no answer, but left the king and pushed awayto know could he find why the Gruagach was silent. 

He took a glen at a step, a hill at a leap, and travelled all daytill evening. Then he came to a house. The master of the house askedhim what sort was he, and he said: "A young man looking for hire. "

"Well, " said the master of the house, "I was going tomorrow to lookfor a man to mind my cows. If you'll work for me, you'll have a goodplace, the best food a man could have to eat in this world, and asoft bed to lie on. "

The Shee an Gannon took service, and ate his supper. Then the masterof the house said: "I am the Gruagach Gaire; now that you are my manand have eaten your supper, you'll have a bed of silk to sleep on. "

Next morning after breakfast the Gruagach said to the Shee anGannon: "Go out now and loosen my five golden cows and my bullwithout horns, and drive them to pasture; but when you have them outon the grass, be careful you don't let them go near the land of thegiant. "

The new cowboy drove the cattle to pasture, and when near the landof the giant, he saw it was covered with woods and surrounded by ahigh wall. He went up, put his back against the wall, and threw in agreat stretch of it; then he went inside and threw out another greatstretch of the wall, and put the five golden cows and the bullwithout horns on the land of the giant. 

Then he climbed a tree, ate the sweet apples himself, and threw thesour ones down to the cattle of the Gruagach Gaire. 

Soon a great crashing was heard in the woods, --the noise of youngtrees bending, and old trees breaking. The cowboy looked around andsaw a five-headed giant pushing through the trees; and soon he wasbefore him. 

"Poor miserable creature!" said the giant; "but weren't you impudentto come to my land and trouble me in this way? You're too big forone bite, and too small for two. I don't know what to do but tearyou to pieces. "

"You nasty brute, " said the cowboy, coming down to him from thetree, "'tis little I care for you;" and then they went at eachother. So great was the noise between them that there was nothing inthe world but what was looking on and listening to the combat. 

They fought till late in the afternoon, when the giant was gettingthe upper hand; and then the cowboy thought that if the giant shouldkill him, his father and mother would never find him or set eyes onhim again, and he would never get the daughter of the king of Erin. The heart in his body grew strong at this thought. He sprang on thegiant, and with the first squeeze and thrust he put him to his kneesin the hard ground, with the second thrust to his waist, and withthe third to his shoulders. 

"I have you at last; you're done for now!", said the cowboy. Then hetook out his knife, cut the five heads off the giant, and when hehad them off he cut out the tongues and threw the heads over thewall. 

Then he put the tongues in his pocket and drove home the cattle. That evening the Gruagach couldn't find vessels enough in all hisplace to hold the milk of the five golden cows. 

But when the cowboy was on the way home with the cattle, the son ofthe king of Tisean came and took the giant's heads and claimed theprincess in marriage when the Gruagach Gaire should laugh. 

After supper the cowboy would give no talk to his master, but kepthis mind to himself, and went to the bed of silk to sleep. 

On the morning the cowboy rose before his master, and the firstwords he said to the Gruagach were:

"What keeps you from laughing, you who used to laugh so loud thatthe whole world heard you?"

"I'm sorry, " said the Gruagach, "that the daughter of the king ofErin sent you here. "

"If you don't tell me of your own will, I'll make you tell me, " saidthe cowboy; and he put a face on himself that was terrible to lookat, and running through the house like a madman, could find nothingthat would give pain enough to the Gruagach but some ropes made ofuntanned sheepskin hanging on the wall. 

He took these down, caught the Gruagach, fastened him by the threesmalls, and tied him so that his little toes were whispering to hisears. When he was in this state the Gruagach said: "I'll tell youwhat stopped my laughing if you set me free. "

So the cowboy unbound him, the two sat down together, and theGruagach said:--

"I lived in this castle here with my twelve sons. We ate, drank, played cards, and enjoyed ourselves, till one day when my sons and Iwere playing, a slender brown hare came rushing in, jumped on to thehearth, tossed up the ashes to the rafters and ran away. 

"On another day he came again; but if he did, we were ready for him, my twelve sons and myself. As soon as he tossed up the ashes and ranoff, we made after him, and followed him till nightfall, when hewent into a glen. We saw a light before us. I ran on, and came to ahouse with a great apartment, where there was a man named YellowFace with twelve daughters, and the hare was tied to the side of theroom near the women. 

"There was a large pot over the fire in the room, and a great storkboiling in the pot. The man of the house said to me: 'There arebundles of rushes at the end of the room, go there and sit down withyour men!'

"He went into the next room and brought out two pikes, one of wood, the other of iron, and asked me which of the pikes would I take. Isaid, 'I'll take the iron one;' for I thought in my heart that if anattack should come on me, I could defend myself better with the ironthan the wooden pike. 

"Yellow Face gave me the iron pike, and the first chance of takingwhat I could out of the pot on the point of the pike. I got but asmall piece of the stork, and the man of the house took all the reston his wooden pike. We had to fast that night; and when the man andhis twelve daughters ate the flesh of the stork, they hurled thebare bones in the faces of my sons and myself. We had to stop allnight that way, beaten on the faces by the bones of the stork. 

"Next morning, when we were going away, the man of the house askedme to stay a while; and going into the next room, he brought outtwelve loops of iron and one of wood, and said to me: 'Put the headsof your twelve sons into the iron loops, or your own head into thewooden one;' and I said: 'I'll put the twelve heads of my sons inthe iron loops, and keep my own out of the wooden one. '

"He put the iron loops on the necks of my twelve sons, and put thewooden one on his own neck. Then he snapped the loops one afteranother, till he took the heads off my twelve sons and threw theheads and bodies out of the house; but he did nothing to hurt hisown neck. 

"When he had killed my sons he took hold of me and stripped the skinand flesh from the small of my back down, and when he had done thathe took the skin of a black sheep that had been hanging on the wallfor seven years and clapped it on my body in place of my own fleshand skin; and the sheepskin grew on me, and every year since then Ishear myself, and every bit of wool I use for the stockings that Iwear I clip off my own back. "

When he had said this, the Gruagach showed the cowboy his backcovered with thick black wool. 

After what he had seen and heard, the cowboy said: "I know now whyyou don't laugh, and small blame to you. But does that hare comehere still?"

"He does indeed, " said the Gruagach. 

Both went to the table to play, and they were not long playing cardswhen the hare ran in; and before they could stop him he was outagain. 

But the cowboy made after the hare, and the Gruagach after thecowboy, and they ran as fast as ever their legs could carry themtill nightfall; and when the hare was entering the castle where thetwelve sons of the Gruagach were killed, the cowboy caught him bythe two hind legs and dashed out his brains against the wall; andthe skull of the hare was knocked into the chief room of the castle, and fell at the feet of the master of the place. 

"Who has dared to interfere with my fighting pet?" screamed YellowFace. 

"I, " said the cowboy; "and if your pet had had manners, he might bealive now. "

The cowboy and the Gruagach stood by the fire. A stork was boilingin the pot, as when the Gruagach came the first time. The master ofthe house went into the next room and brought out an iron and awooden pike, and asked the cowboy which would he choose. 

"I'll take the wooden one, " said the cowboy; "and you may keep theiron one for yourself. "

So he took the wooden one; and going to the pot, brought out on thepike all the stork except a small bite, and he and the Gruagach fellto eating, and they were eating the flesh of the stork all night. The cowboy and the Gruagach were at home in the place that time. 

In the morning the master of the house went into the next room, tookdown the twelve iron loops with a wooden one, brought them out, andasked the cowboy which would he take, the twelve iron or the onewooden loop. 

"What could I do with the twelve iron ones for myself or my master?I'll take the wooden one. "

He put it on, and taking the twelve iron loops, put them on thenecks of the twelve daughters of the house, then snapped the twelveheads off them, and turning to their father, said: "I'll do the samething to you unless you bring the twelve sons of my master to life, and make them as well and strong as when you took their heads. "

The master of the house went out and brought the twelve to lifeagain; and when the Gruagach saw all his sons alive and as well asever, he let a laugh out of himself, and all the Eastern world heardthe laugh. 

Then the cowboy said to the Gruagach: "It's a bad thing you havedone to me, for the daughter of the king of Erin will be married theday after your laugh is heard. "

"Oh! then we must be there in time, " said the Gruagach; and they allmade away from the place as fast as ever they could, the cowboy, theGruagach, and his twelve sons. 

They hurried on; and when within three miles of the king's castlethere was such a throng of people that no one could go a step ahead. "We must clear a road through this, " said the cowboy. 

"We must indeed, " said the Gruagach; and at it they went, threw thepeople some on one side and some on the other, and soon they had anopening for themselves to the king's castle. 

As they went in, the daughter of the king of Erin and the son of theking of Tisean were on their knees just going to be married. Thecowboy drew his hand on the bride-groom, and gave a blow that senthim spinning till he stopped under a table at the other side of theroom. 

"What scoundrel struck that blow?" asked the king of Erin. 

"It was I, " said the cowboy. 

"What reason had you to strike the man who won my daughter?"

"It was I who won your daughter, not he; and if you don't believeme, the Gruagach Gaire is here himself. He'll tell you the wholestory from beginning to end, and show you the tongues of the giant. "

So the Gruagach came up and told the king the whole story, how theShee an Gannon had become his cowboy, had guarded the five goldencows and the bull without horns, cut off the heads of the five-headed giant, killed the wizard hare, and brought his own twelvesons to life. "And then, " said the Gruagach, "he is the only man inthe whole world I have ever told why I stopped laughing, and theonly one who has ever seen my fleece of wool. "

When the king of Erin heard what the Gruagach said, and saw thetongues of the giant fitted in the head, he made the Shee an Gannonkneel down by his daughter, and they were married on the spot. 

Then the son of the king of Tisean was thrown into prison, and thenext day they put down a great fire, and the deceiver was burned toashes. 

The wedding lasted nine days, and the last day was better than thefirst. 

THE STORY-TELLER AT FAULT

At the time when the Tuatha De Dannan held the sovereignty ofIreland, there reigned in Leinster a king, who was remarkably fondof hearing stories. Like the other princes and chieftains of theisland, he had a favourite story-teller, who held a large estatefrom his Majesty, on condition of telling him a new story everynight of his life, before he went to sleep. Many indeed were thestories he knew, so that he had already reached a good old agewithout failing even for a single night in his task; and such wasthe skill he displayed that whatever cares of state or otherannoyances might prey upon the monarch's mind, his story-teller wassure to send him to sleep. 

One morning the story-teller arose early, and as his custom was, strolled out into his garden turning over in his mind incidentswhich he might weave into a story for the king at night. But thismorning he found himself quite at fault; after pacing his wholedemesne, he returned to his house without being able to think ofanything new or strange. He found no difficulty in "there was once aking who had three sons" or "one day the king of all Ireland, " butfurther than that he could not get. At length he went in tobreakfast, and found his wife much perplexed at his delay. 

"Why don't you come to breakfast, my dear?" said she. 

"I have no mind to eat anything, " replied the story-teller; "long asI have been in the service of the king of Leinster, I never sat downto breakfast without having a new story ready for the evening, butthis morning my mind is quite shut up, and I don't know what to do. I might as well lie down and die at once. I'll be disgraced for everthis evening, when the king calls for his story-teller. "

Just at this moment the lady looked out of the window. 

"Do you see that black thing at the end of the field?" said she. 

"I do, " replied her husband. 

They drew nigh, and saw a miserable looking old man lying on theground with a wooden leg placed beside him. 

"Who are you, my good man?" asked the story-teller. 

"Oh, then, 'tis little matter who I am. I'm a poor, old, lame, decrepit, miserable creature, sitting down here to rest awhile. "

"An' what are you doing with that box and dice I see in your hand?"

"I am waiting here to see if any one will play a game with me, "replied the beggar man. 

"Play with you! Why what has a poor old man like you to play for?"

"I have one hundred pieces of gold in this leathern purse, " repliedthe old man. 

"You may as well play with him, " said the story-teller's wife; "andperhaps you'll have something to tell the king in the evening. "

A smooth stone was placed between them, and upon it they cast theirthrows. 

It was but a little while and the story-teller lost every penny ofhis money. 

"Much good may it do you, friend, " said he. "What better hap could Ilook for, fool that I am!"

"Will you play again?" asked the old man. 

"Don't be talking, man: you have all my money. "

"Haven't you chariot and horses and hounds?"

"Well, what of them!"

"I'll stake all the money I have against thine. "

"Nonsense, man! Do you think for all the money in Ireland, I'd runthe risk of seeing my lady tramp home on foot?"

"Maybe you'd win, " said the bocough. 

"Maybe I wouldn't, " said the story-teller. 

"Play with him, husband, " said his wife. "I don't mind walking, ifyou do, love. "

"I never refused you before, " said the story-teller, "and I won't doso now. "

Down he sat again, and in one throw lost houses, hounds, andchariot. 

"Will you play again?" asked the beggar. 

"Are you making game of me, man; what else have I to stake?"

"I'll stake all my winnings against your wife, " said the old man. 

The story-teller turned away in silence, but his wife stopped him. 

"Accept his offer, " said she. "This is the third time, and who knowswhat luck you may have? You'll surely win now. "

They played again, and the story-teller lost. No sooner had he doneso, than to his sorrow and surprise, his wife went and sat down nearthe ugly old beggar. 

"Is that the way you're leaving me?" said the story-teller. 

"Sure I was won, " said she. "You would not cheat the poor man, wouldyou?"

"Have you any more to stake?" asked the old man. 

"You know very well I have not, " replied the story-teller. 

"I'll stake the whole now, wife and all, against your own self, "said the old man. 

Again they played, and again the story-teller lost. 

"Well! here I am, and what do you want with me?"

"I'll soon let you know, " said the old man, and he took from hispocket a long cord and a wand. 

"Now, " said he to the story-teller, "what kind of animal would yourather be, a deer, a fox, or a hare? You have your choice now, butyou may not have it later. "

To make a long story short, the story-teller made his choice of ahare; the old man threw the cord round him, struck him with thewand, and lo! a long-eared, frisking hare was skipping and jumpingon the green. 

But it wasn't for long; who but his wife called the hounds, and setthem on him. The hare fled, the dogs followed. Round the field ran ahigh wall, so that run as he might, he couldn't get out, andmightily diverted were beggar and lady to see him twist and double. 

In vain did he take refuge with his wife, she kicked him back againto the hounds, until at length the beggar stopped the hounds, andwith a stroke of the wand, panting and breathless, the story-tellerstood before them again. 

"And how did you like the sport?" said the beggar. 

"It might be sport to others, " replied the story-teller looking athis wife, "for my part I could well put up with the loss of it. "

"Would it be asking too much, " he went on to the beggar, "to knowwho you are at all, or where you come from, or why you take apleasure in plaguing a poor old man like me?"

"Oh!" replied the stranger, "I'm an odd kind of good-for-littlefellow, one day poor, another day rich, but if you wish to know moreabout me or my habits, come with me and perhaps I may show you morethan you would make out if you went alone. "

"I'm not my own master to go or stay, " said the story-teller, with asigh. 

The stranger put one hand into his wallet and drew out of it beforetheir eyes a well-looking middle-aged man, to whom he spoke asfollows:

"By all you heard and saw since I put you into my wallet, takecharge of this lady and of the carriage and horses, and have themready for me whenever I want them. "

Scarcely had he said these words when all vanished, and the story-teller found himself at the Foxes' Ford, near the castle of Red HughO'Donnell. He could see all but none could see him. 

O'Donnell was in his hall, and heaviness of flesh and weariness ofspirit were upon him. 

"Go out, " said he to his doorkeeper, "and see who or what may becoming. "

The doorkeeper went, and what he saw was a lank, grey beggarman;half his sword bared behind his haunch, his two shoes full of coldroad-a-wayish water sousing about him, the tips of his two ears outthrough his old hat, his two shoulders out through his scanttattered cloak, and in his hand a green wand of holly. 

"Save you, O'Donnell, " said the lank grey beggarman. 

"And you likewise, " said O'Donnell. "Whence come you, and what isyour craft?"

 "I come from the outmost stream of earth, From the glens where the white swans glide, A night in Islay, a night in Man, A night on the cold hillside. "

"It's the great traveller you are, " said O'Donnell. 

"Maybe you've learnt something on the road. "

"I am a juggler, " said the lank grey beggarman, "and for five piecesof silver you shall see a trick of mine. "

"You shall have them, " said O'Donnell; and the lank grey beggarmantook three small straws and placed them in his hand. 

"The middle one, " said he, "I'll blow away; the other two I'llleave. "

"Thou canst not do it, " said one and all. 

But the lank grey beggarman put a finger on either outside strawand, whiff, away he blew the middle one. 

"'Tis a good trick, " said O'Donnell; and he paid him his five piecesof silver. 

"For half the money, " said one of the chief's lads, "I'll do thesame trick. "

"Take him at his word, O'Donnell. "

The lad put the three straws on his hand, and a finger on eitheroutside straw and he blew; and what happened but that the fist wasblown away with the straw. 

"Thou art sore, and thou wilt be sorer, " said O'Donnell. 

"Six more pieces, O'Donnell, and I'll do another trick for thee, "said the lank grey beggarman. 

"Six shalt thou have. "

"Seest thou my two ears! One I'll move but not t'other. "

"'Tis easy to see them, they're big enough, but thou canst nevermove one ear and not the two together. "

The lank grey beggarman put his hand to his ear, and he gave it apull. 

O'Donnell laughed and paid him the six pieces. 

"Call that a trick, " said the fistless lad, "any one can do that, "and so saying, he put up his hand, pulled his ear, and what happenedwas that he pulled away ear and head. 

"Sore thou art; and sorer thou'lt be, " said O'Donnell. 

"Well, O'Donnell, " said the lank grey beggarman, "strange are thetricks I've shown thee, but I'll show thee a stranger one yet forthe same money. "

"Thou hast my word for it, " said O'Donnell. 

With that the lank grey beggarman took a bag from under his armpit, and from out the bag a ball of silk, and he unwound the ball and heflung it slantwise up into the clear blue heavens, and it became aladder; then he took a hare and placed it upon the thread, and up itran; again he took out a red-eared hound, and it swiftly ran upafter the hare. 

"Now, " said the lank grey beggarman; "has any one a mind to runafter the dog and on the course?"

"I will, " said a lad of O'Donnell's. 

"Up with you then, " said the juggler; "but I warn you if you let myhare be killed I'll cut off your head when you come down. "

The lad ran up the thread and all three soon disappeared. Afterlooking up for a long time, the lank grey beggarman said: "I'mafraid the hound is eating the hare, and that our friend has fallenasleep. "

Saying this he began to wind the thread, and down came the lad fastasleep; and down came the red-eared hound and in his mouth the lastmorsel of the hare. 

He struck the lad a stroke with the edge of his sword, and so casthis head off. As for the hound, if he used it no worse, he used itno better. 

"It's little I'm pleased, and sore I'm angered, " said O'Donnell, "that a hound and a lad should be killed at my court. "

"Five pieces of silver twice over for each of them, " said thejuggler, "and their heads shall be on them as before. "

"Thou shalt get that, " said O'Donnell. 

Five pieces, and again five were paid him, and lo! the lad had hishead and the hound his. And though they lived to the uttermost endof time, the hound would never touch a hare again, and the lad tookgood care to keep his eyes open. 

Scarcely had the lank grey beggarman done this when he vanished fromout their sight, and no one present could say if he had flownthrough the air or if the earth had swallowed him up. 

 He moved as wave tumbling o'er wave As whirlwind following whirlwind, As a furious wintry blast, So swiftly, sprucely, cheerily, Right proudly, And no stop made Until he came To the court of Leinster's King, He gave a cheery light leap O'er top of turret, Of court and city Of Leinster's King. 

Heavy was the flesh and weary the spirit of Leinster's king. 'Twasthe hour he was wont to hear a story, but send he might right andleft, not a jot of tidings about the story-teller could he get. 

"Go to the door, " said he to his doorkeeper, "and see if a soul isin sight who may tell me something about my story-teller. "

The doorkeeper went, and what he saw was a lank grey beggarman, halfhis sword bared behind his haunch, his two old shoes full of coldroad-a-wayish water sousing about him, the tips of his two ears outthrough his old hat, his two shoulders out through his scanttattered cloak, and in his hand a three-stringed harp. 

"What canst thou do?" said the doorkeeper. 

"I can play, " said the lank grey beggarman. 

"Never fear, " added he to the story-teller, "thou shalt see all, andnot a man shall see thee. "

When the king heard a harper was outside, he bade him in. 

"It is I that have the best harpers in the five-fifths of Ireland, "said he, and he signed them to play. They did so, and if theyplayed, the lank grey beggarman listened. 

"Heardst thou ever the like?" said the king. 

"Did you ever, O king, hear a cat purring over a bowl of broth, orthe buzzing of beetles in the twilight, or a shrill tongued oldwoman scolding your head off?"

"That I have often, " said the king. 

"More melodious to me, " said the lank grey beggarman, "were theworst of these sounds than the sweetest harping of thy harpers. "

When the harpers heard this, they drew their swords and rushed athim, but instead of striking him, their blows fell on each other, and soon not a man but was cracking his neighbour's skull andgetting his own cracked in turn. 

When the king saw this, he thought it hard the harpers weren'tcontent with murdering their music, but must needs murder eachother. 

"Hang the fellow who began it all, " said he; "and if I can't have astory, let me have peace. "

Up came the guards, seized the lank grey beggarman, marched him tothe gallows and hanged him high and dry. Back they marched to thehall, and who should they see but the lank grey beggarman seated ona bench with his mouth to a flagon of ale. 

"Never welcome you in, " cried the captain of the guard, "didn't wehang you this minute, and what brings you here?"

"Is it me myself, you mean?"

"Who else?" said the captain. 

"May your hand turn into a pig's foot with you when you think oftying the rope; why should you speak of hanging me?"

Back they scurried to the gallows, and there hung the king'sfavourite brother. 

Back they hurried to the king who had fallen fast asleep. 

"Please your Majesty, " said the captain, "we hanged that strollingvagabond, but here he is back again as well as ever. "

"Hang him again, " said the king, and off he went to sleep once more. 

They did as they were told, but what happened was that they foundthe king's chief harper hanging where the lank grey beggarman shouldhave been. 

The captain of the guard was sorely puzzled. 

"Are you wishful to hang me a third time?" said the lank greybeggarman. 

"Go where you will, " said the captain, "and as fast as you please ifyou'll only go far enough. It's trouble enough you've given usalready. "

"Now you're reasonable, " said the beggarman; "and since you've givenup trying to hang a stranger because he finds fault with your music, I don't mind telling you that if you go back to the gallows you'llfind your friends sitting on the sward none the worse for what hashappened. "

As he said these words he vanished; and the story-teller foundhimself on the spot where they first met, and where his wife stillwas with the carriage and horses. 

"Now, " said the lank grey beggarman, "I'll torment you no longer. There's your carriage and your horses, and your money and your wife;do what you please with them. "

"For my carriage and my houses and my hounds, " said the story-teller, "I thank you; but my wife and my money you may keep. "

"No, " said the other. "I want neither, and as for your wife, don'tthink ill of her for what she did, she couldn't help it. "

"Not help it! Not help kicking me into the mouth of my own hounds!Not help casting me off for the sake of a beggarly old--"

"I'm not as beggarly or as old as ye think. I am Angus of the Bruff;many a good turn you've done me with the King of Leinster. Thismorning my magic told me the difficulty you were in, and I made upmy mind to get you out of it. As for your wife there, the power thatchanged your body changed her mind. Forget and forgive as man andwife should do, and now you have a story for the King of Leinsterwhen he calls for one;" and with that he disappeared. 

It's true enough he now had a story fit for a king. From first tolast he told all that had befallen him; so long and loud laughed theking that he couldn't go to sleep at all. And he told the story-teller never to trouble for fresh stories, but every night as longas be lived he listened again and he laughed afresh at the tale ofthe lank grey beggarman. 

THE SEA-MAIDEN

There was once a poor old fisherman, and one year he was not gettingmuch fish. On a day of days, while he was fishing, there rose a sea-maiden at the side of his boat, and she asked him, "Are you gettingmuch fish?" The old man answered and said, "Not I. " "What rewardwould you give me for sending plenty of fish to you?" "Ach!" saidthe old man, "I have not much to spare. " "Will you give me the firstson you have?" said she. "I would give ye that, were I to have ason, " said he. "Then go home, and remember me when your son istwenty years of age, and you yourself will get plenty of fish afterthis. " Everything happened as the sea-maiden said, and he himselfgot plenty of fish; but when the end of the twenty years wasnearing, the old man was growing more and more sorrowful and heavyhearted, while he counted each day as it came. 

He had rest neither day nor night. The son asked his father one day, "Is any one troubling you?" The old man said, "Some one is, butthat's nought to do with you nor any one else. " The lad said, "Imust know what it is. " His father told him at last how the matterwas with him and the sea-maiden. "Let not that put you in anytrouble, " said the son; "I will not oppose you. " "You shall not; youshall not go, my son, though I never get fish any more. " "If youwill not let me go with you, go to the smithy, and let the smithmake me a great strong sword, and I will go seek my fortune. "

His father went to the smithy, and the smith made a doughty swordfor him. His father came home with the sword. The lad grasped it andgave it a shake or two, and it flew into a hundred splinters. Heasked his father to go to the smithy and get him another sword inwhich there should be twice as much weight; and so his father did, and so likewise it happened to the next sword--it broke in twohalves. Back went the old man to the smithy; and the smith made agreat sword, its like he never made before. "There's thy sword forthee, " said the smith, "and the fist must be good that plays thisblade. " The old man gave the sword to his son; he gave it a shake ortwo. "This will do, " said he; "it's high time now to travel on myway. "

On the next morning he put a saddle on a black horse that his fatherhad, and he took the world for his pillow. When he went on a bit, hefell in with the carcass of a sheep beside the road. And there werea great black dog, a falcon, and an otter, and they were quarrellingover the spoil. So they asked him to divide it for them. He camedown off the horse, and he divided the carcass amongst the three. Three shares to the dog, two shares to the otter, and a share to thefalcon. "For this, " said the dog, "if swiftness of foot or sharpnessof tooth will give thee aid, mind me, and I will be at thy side. "Said the otter, "If the swimming of foot on the ground of a poolwill loose thee, mind me, and I will be at thy side. " Said thefalcon, "If hardship comes on thee, where swiftness of wing or crookof a claw will do good, mind me, and I will be at thy side. "

On this he went onward till he reached a king's house, and he tookservice to be a herd, and his wages were to be according to the milkof the cattle. He went away with the cattle, and the grazing was butbare. In the evening when he took them home they had not much milk, the place was so bare, and his meat and drink was but spare thatnight. 

On the next day he went on further with them; and at last he came toa place exceedingly grassy, in a green glen, of which he never sawthe like. 

But about the time when he should drive the cattle homewards, whoshould he see coming but a great giant with his sword in his hand?"HI! HO!! HOGARACH!!!" says the giant. "Those cattle are mine; theyare on my land, and a dead man art thou. " "I say not that, " says theherd; "there is no knowing, but that may be easier to say than todo. "

He drew the great clean-sweeping sword, and he neared the giant. Theherd drew back his sword, and the head was off the giant in atwinkling. He leaped on the black horse, and he went to look for thegiant's house. In went the herd, and that's the place where therewas money in plenty, and dresses of each kind in the wardrobe withgold and silver, and each thing finer than the other. At the mouthof night he took himself to the king's house, but he took not athing from the giant's house. And when the cattle were milked thisnight there _was_ milk. He got good feeding this night, meatand drink without stint, and the king was hugely pleased that he hadcaught such a herd. He went on for a time in this way, but at lastthe glen grew bare of grass, and the grazing was not so good. 

So he thought he would go a little further forward in on the giant'sland; and he sees a great park of grass. He returned for the cattle, and he put them into the park. 

They were but a short time grazing in the park when a great wildgiant came full of rage and madness. "HI! HAW!! HOGARAICH!!!" saidthe giant. "It is a drink of thy blood that will quench my thirstthis night. " "There is no knowing, " said the herd, "but that'seasier to say than to do. " And at each other went the men. _There_ was shaking of blades! At length and at last it seemedas if the giant would get the victory over the herd. Then he calledon the dog, and with one spring the black dog caught the giant bythe neck, and swiftly the herd struck off his head. 

He went home very tired this night, but it's a wonder if the king'scattle had not milk. The whole family was delighted that they hadgot such a herd. 

Next day he betakes himself to the castle. When he reached the door, a little flattering carlin met him standing in the door. "All hailand good luck to thee, fisher's son; 'tis I myself am pleased to seethee; great is the honour for this kingdom, for thy like to be comeinto it--thy coming in is fame for this little bothy; go in first;honour to the gentles; go on, and take breath. "

"In before me, thou crone; I like not flattery out of doors; go inand let's hear thy speech. " In went the crone, and when her back wasto him he drew his sword and whips her head off; but the sword flewout of his hand. And swift the crone gripped her head with bothhands, and puts it on her neck as it was before. The dog sprung onthe crone, and she struck the generous dog with the club of magic;and there he lay. But the herd struggled for a hold of the club ofmagic, and with one blow on the top of the head she was on earth inthe twinkling of an eye. He went forward, up a little, and there wasspoil! Gold and silver, and each thing more precious than another, in the crone's castle. He went back to the king's house, and thenthere was rejoicing. 

He followed herding in this way for a time; but one night after hecame home, instead of getting "All hail" and "Good luck" from thedairymaid, all were at crying and woe. 

He asked what cause of woe there was that night. The dairymaid said"There is a great beast with three heads in the loch, and it mustget some one every year, and the lot had come this year on theking's daughter, and at midday to-morrow she is to meet the LaidlyBeast at the upper end of the loch, but there is a great suitoryonder who is going to rescue her. "

"What suitor is that?" said the herd. "Oh, he is a great General ofarms, " said the dairymaid, "and when he kills the beast, he willmarry the king's daughter, for the king has said that he who couldsave his daughter should get her to marry. "

But on the morrow, when the time grew near, the king's daughter andthis hero of arms went to give a meeting to the beast, and theyreached the black rock, at the upper end of the loch. They were buta short time there when the beast stirred in the midst of the loch;but when the General saw this terror of a beast with three heads, hetook fright, and he slunk away, and he hid himself. And the king'sdaughter was under fear and under trembling, with no one at all tosave her. Suddenly she sees a doughty handsome youth, riding a blackhorse, and coming where she was. He was marvellously arrayed andfull armed, and his black dog moved after him. "There is gloom onyour face, girl, " said the youth; "what do you here?"

"Oh! that's no matter, " said the king's daughter. "It's not longI'll be here, at all events. "

"I say not that, " said he. 

"A champion fled as likely as you, and not long since, " said she. 

"He is a champion who stands the war, " said the youth. And to meetthe beast he went with his sword and his dog. But there was aspluttering and a splashing between himself and the beast! The dogkept doing all he might, and the king's daughter was palsied by fearof the noise of the beast! One of them would now be under, and nowabove. But at last he cut one of the heads off it. It gave one roar, and the son of earth, echo of the rocks, called to its screech, andit drove the loch in spindrift from end to end, and in a twinklingit went out of sight. 

"Good luck and victory follow you, lad!" said the king's daughter. "I am safe for one night, but the beast will come again and again, until the other two heads come off it. " He caught the beast's head, and he drew a knot through it, and he told her to bring it with herthere to-morrow. She gave him a gold ring, and went home with thehead on her shoulder, and the herd betook himself to the cows. Butshe had not gone far when this great General saw her, and he said toher, "I will kill you if you do not say that 'twas I took the headoff the beast. " "Oh!" says she, "'tis I will say it; who else tookthe head off the beast but you!" They reached the king's house, andthe head was on the General's shoulder. But here was rejoicing, thatshe should come home alive and whole, and this great captain withthe beast's head full of blood in his hand. On the morrow they wentaway, and there was no question at all but that this hero would savethe king's daughter. 

They reached the same place, and they were not long there when thefearful Laidly Beast stirred in the midst of the loch, and the heroslunk away as he did on yesterday, but it was not long after thiswhen the man of the black horse came, with another dress on. Nomatter; she knew that it was the very same lad. "It is I am pleasedto see you, " said she. "I am in hopes you will handle your greatsword to-day as you did yesterday. Come up and take breath. " Butthey were not long there when they saw the beast steaming in themidst of the loch. 

At once he went to meet the beast, but _there_ wasCloopersteich and Claperstich, spluttering, splashing, raving, androaring on the beast! They kept at it thus for a long time, andabout the mouth of night he cut another head off the beast. He putit on the knot and gave it to her. She gave him one of her earrings, and he leaped on the black horse, and he betook himself to theherding. The king's daughter went home with the heads. The Generalmet her, and took the heads from her, and he said to her, that shemust tell that it was he who took the head off the beast this timealso. "Who else took the head off the beast but you?" said she. Theyreached the king's house with the heads. Then there was joy andgladness. 

About the same time on the morrow, the two went away. The officerhid himself as he usually did. The king's daughter betook herself tothe bank of the loch. The hero of the black horse came, and ifroaring and raving were on the beast on the days that were passed, this day it was horrible. But no matter, he took the third head offthe beast, and drew it through the knot, and gave it to her. Shegave him her other earring, and then she went home with the heads. When they reached the king's house, all were full of smiles, and theGeneral was to marry the king's daughter the next day. The weddingwas going on, and every one about the castle longing till the priestshould come. But when the priest came, she would marry only the onewho could take the heads off the knot without cutting it. "Whoshould take the heads off the knot but the man that put the headson?" said the king. 

The General tried them; but he could not loose them; and at lastthere was no one about the house but had tried to take the heads offthe knot, but they could not. The king asked if there were any oneelse about the house that would try to take the heads off the knot. They said that the herd had not tried them yet. Word went for theherd; and he was not long throwing them hither and thither. "Butstop a bit, my lad, " said the king's daughter; "the man that tookthe heads off the beast, he has my ring and my two earrings. " Theherd put his hand in his pocket, and he threw them on the board. "Thou art my man, " said the king's daughter. The king was not sopleased when he saw that it was a herd who was to marry hisdaughter, but he ordered that he should be put in a better dress;but his daughter spoke, and she said that he had a dress as fine asany that ever was in his castle; and thus it happened. The herd puton the giant's golden dress, and they married that same day. 

They were now married, and everything went on well. But one day, andit was the namesake of the day when his father had promised him tothe sea-maiden, they were sauntering by the side of the loch, and loand behold! she came and took him away to the loch without leave orasking. The king's daughter was now mournful, tearful, blind-sorrowful for her married man; she was always with her eye on theloch. An old soothsayer met her, and she told how it had befallenher married mate. Then he told her the thing to do to save her mate, and that she did. 

She took her harp to the sea-shore, and sat and played; and the sea-maiden came up to listen, for sea-maidens are fonder of music thanall other creatures. But when the wife saw the sea-maiden shestopped. The sea-maiden said, "Play on!" but the princess said, "No, not till I see my man again. " So the sea-maiden put up his head outof the loch. Then the princess played again, and stopped till thesea-maiden put him up to the waist. Then the princess played andstopped again, and this time the sea-maiden put him all out of theloch, and he called on the falcon and became one and flew on shore. But the sea-maiden took the princess, his wife. 

Sorrowful was each one that was in the town on this night. Her manwas mournful, tearful, wandering down and up about the banks of theloch, by day and night. The old soothsayer met him. The soothsayertold him that there was no way of killing the sea-maiden but the oneway, and this is it--"In the island that is in the midst of the lochis the white-footed hind of the slenderest legs and the swifteststep, and though she be caught, there will spring a hoodie out ofher, and though the hoodie should be caught, there will spring atrout out of her, but there is an egg in the mouth of the trout, andthe soul of the sea-maiden is in the egg, and if the egg breaks, sheis dead. "

Now, there was no way of getting to this island, for the sea-maidenwould sink each boat and raft that would go on the loch. He thoughthe would try to leap the strait with the black horse, and even so hedid. The black horse leaped the strait. He saw the hind, and he letthe black dog after her, but when he was on one side of the island, the hind would be on the other side. "Oh! would the black dog of thecarcass of flesh were here!" No sooner spoke he the word than thegrateful dog was at his side; and after the hind he went, and theywere not long in bringing her to earth. But he no sooner caught herthan a hoodie sprang out of her. "Would that the falcon grey, ofsharpest eye and swiftest wing, were here!" No sooner said he thisthan the falcon was after the hoodie, and she was not long puttingher to earth; and as the hoodie fell on the bank of the loch, out ofher jumps the trout. "Oh! that thou wert by me now, oh otter!" Nosooner said than the otter was at his side, and out on the loch sheleaped, and brings the trout from the midst of the loch; but nosooner was the otter on shore with the trout than the egg came fromhis mouth. He sprang and he put his foot on it. 'Twas then the sea-maiden appeared, and she said, "Break not the egg, and you shall getall you ask. " "Deliver to me my wife!" In the wink of an eye she wasby his side. When he got hold of her hand in both his hands, he lethis foot down on the egg, and the sea-maiden died. 

A LEGEND OF KNOCKMANY

What Irish man, woman, or child has not heard of our renownedHibernian Hercules, the great and glorious Fin M'Coul? Not one, fromCape Clear to the Giant's Causeway, nor from that back again to CapeClear. And, by-the-way, speaking of the Giant's Causeway brings meat once to the beginning of my story. Well, it so happened that Finand his men were all working at the Causeway, in order to make abridge across to Scotland; when Fin, who was very fond of his wifeOonagh, took it into his head that he would go home and see how thepoor woman got on in his absence. So, accordingly, he pulled up afir-tree, and, after lopping off the roots and branches, made awalking-stick of it, and set out on his way to Oonagh. 

Oonagh, or rather Fin, lived at this time on the very tip-top ofKnockmany Hill, which faces a cousin of its own called Cullamore, that rises up, half-hill, half-mountain, on the opposite side. 

There was at that time another giant, named Cucullin--some say hewas Irish, and some say he was Scotch--but whether Scotch or Irish, sorrow doubt of it but he was a targer. No other giant of the daycould stand before him; and such was his strength, that, when wellvexed, he could give a stamp that shook the country about him. Thefame and name of him went far and near; and nothing in the shape ofa man, it was said, had any chance with him in a fight. By one blowof his fists he flattened a thunderbolt and kept it in his pocket, in the shape of a pancake, to show to all his enemies, when theywere about to fight him. Undoubtedly he had given every giant inIreland a considerable beating, barring Fin M'Coul himself; and heswore that he would never rest, night or day, winter or summer, tillhe would serve Fin with the same sauce, if he could catch him. However, the short and long of it was, with reverence be it spoken, that Fin heard Cucullin was coming to the Causeway to have a trialof strength with him; and he was seized with a very warm and suddenfit of affection for his wife, poor woman, leading a very lonely, uncomfortable life of it in his absence. He accordingly pulled upthe fir-tree, as I said before, and having snedded it into awalking-stick, set out on his travels to see his darling Oonagh onthe top of Knockmany, by the way. 

In truth, the people wondered very much why it was that Fin selectedsuch a windy spot for his dwelling-house, and they even went so faras to tell him as much. 

"What can you mane, Mr. M'Coul, " said they, "by pitching your tentupon the top of Knockmany, where you never are without a breeze, dayor night, winter or summer, and where you're often forced to takeyour nightcap without either going to bed or turning up your littlefinger; ay, an' where, besides this, there's the sorrow's own wantof water?"

"Why, " said Fin, "ever since I was the height of a round tower, Iwas known to be fond of having a good prospect of my own; and wherethe dickens, neighbours, could I find a better spot for a goodprospect than the top of Knockmany? As for water, I am sinking apump, and, plase goodness, as soon as the Causeway's made, I intendto finish it. "

Now, this was more of Fin's philosophy; for the real state of thecase was, that he pitched upon the top of Knockmany in order that hemight be able to see Cucullin coming towards the house. All we haveto say is, that if he wanted a spot from which to keep a sharp look-out--and, between ourselves, he did want it grievously--barringSlieve Croob, or Slieve Donard, or its own cousin, Cullamore, hecould not find a neater or more convenient situation for it in thesweet and sagacious province of Ulster. 

"God save all here!" said Fin, good-humouredly, on putting hishonest face into his own door. 

"Musha, Fin, avick, an' you're welcome home to your own Oonagh, youdarlin' bully. " Here followed a smack that is said to have made thewaters of the lake at the bottom of the hill curl, as it were, withkindness and sympathy. 

Fin spent two or three happy days with Oonagh, and felt himself verycomfortable, considering the dread he had of Cucullin. This, however, grew upon him so much that his wife could not but perceivesomething lay on his mind which he kept altogether to himself. Let awoman alone, in the meantime, for ferreting or wheedling a secretout of her good man, when she wishes. Fin was a proof of this. 

"It's this Cucullin, " said he, "that's troubling me. When the fellowgets angry, and begins to stamp, he'll shake you a whole townland;and it's well known that he can stop a thunderbolt, for he alwayscarries one about him in the shape of a pancake, to show to any onethat might misdoubt it. "

As he spoke, he clapped his thumb in his mouth, which he always didwhen he wanted to prophesy, or to know anything that happened in hisabsence; and the wife asked him what he did it for. 

"He's coming, " said Fin; "I see him below Dungannon. "

"Thank goodness, dear! an' who is it, avick? Glory be to God!"

"That baste, Cucullin, " replied Fin; "and how to manage I don'tknow. If I run away, I am disgraced; and I know that sooner or laterI must meet him, for my thumb tells me so. "

"When will he be here?" said she. 

"To-morrow, about two o'clock, " replied Fin, with a groan. 

"Well, my bully, don't be cast down, " said Oonagh; "depend on me, and maybe I'll bring you better out of this scrape than ever youcould bring yourself, by your rule o' thumb. "

She then made a high smoke on the top of the hill, after which sheput her finger in her mouth, and gave three whistles, and by thatCucullin knew he was invited to Cullamore--for this was the way thatthe Irish long ago gave a sign to all strangers and travellers, tolet them know they were welcome to come and take share of whateverwas going. 

In the meantime, Fin was very melancholy, and did not know what todo, or how to act at all. Cucullin was an ugly customer to meetwith; and, the idea of the "cake" aforesaid flattened the very heartwithin him. What chance could he have, strong and brave though hewas, with a man who could, when put in a passion, walk the countryinto earthquakes and knock thunderbolts into pancakes? Fin knew noton what hand to turn him. Right or left--backward or forward--whereto go he could form no guess whatsoever. 

"Oonagh, " said he, "can you do nothing for me? Where's all yourinvention? Am I to be skivered like a rabbit before your eyes, andto have my name disgraced for ever in the sight of all my tribe, andme the best man among them? How am I to fight this man-mountain--this huge cross between an earthquake and a thunderbolt?--with apancake in his pocket that was once--"

"Be easy, Fin, " replied Oonagh; "troth, I'm ashamed of you. Keepyour toe in your pump, will you? Talking of pancakes, maybe, we'llgive him as good as any he brings with him--thunderbolt orotherwise. If I don't treat him to as smart feeding as he's got thismany a day, never trust Oonagh again. Leave him to me, and do justas I bid you. "

This relieved Fin very much; for, after all, he had great confidencein his wife, knowing, as he did, that she had got him out of many aquandary before. Oonagh then drew the nine woollen threads ofdifferent colours, which she always did to find out the best way ofsucceeding in anything of importance she went about. She thenplatted them into three plats with three colours in each, puttingone on her right arm, one round her heart, and the third round herright ankle, for then she knew that nothing could fail with her thatshe undertook. 

Having everything now prepared, she sent round to the neighbours andborrowed one-and-twenty iron griddles, which she took and kneadedinto the hearts of one-and-twenty cakes of bread, and these shebaked on the fire in the usual way, setting them aside in thecupboard according as they were done. She then put down a large potof new milk, which she made into curds and whey. Having done allthis, she sat down quite contented, waiting for his arrival on thenext day about two o'clock, that being the hour at which he wasexpected--for Fin knew as much by the sucking of his thumb. Now thiswas a curious property that Fin's thumb had. In this very thing, moreover, he was very much resembled by his great foe, Cucullin; forit was well known that the huge strength he possessed all lay in themiddle finger of his right hand, and that, if he happened by anymischance to lose it, he was no more, for all his bulk, than acommon man. 

At length, the next day, Cucullin was seen coming across the valley, and Oonagh knew that it was time to commence operations. Sheimmediately brought the cradle, and made Fin to lie down in it, andcover himself up with the clothes. 

"You must pass for your own child, " said she; "so just lie theresnug, and say nothing, but be guided by me. "

About two o'clock, as he had been expected, Cucullin came in. "Godsave all here!" said he; "is this where the great Fin M'Coul lives?"

"Indeed it is, honest man, " replied Oonagh; "God save you kindly--won't you be sitting?"

"Thank you, ma'am, " says he, sitting down; "you're Mrs. M'Coul, Isuppose?"

"I am, " said she; "and I have no reason, I hope, to be ashamed of myhusband. "

"No, " said the other, "he has the name of being the strongest andbravest man in Ireland; but for all that, there's a man not far fromyou that's very desirous of taking a shake with him. Is he at home?"

"Why, then, no, " she replied; "and if ever a man left his house in afury, he did. It appears that some one told him of a big basthoon ofa--giant called Cucullin being down at the Causeway to look for him, and so he set out there to try if he could catch him. Troth, I hope, for the poor giant's sake, he won't meet with him, for if he does, Fin will make paste of him at once. "

"Well, " said the other, "I am Cucullin, and I have been seeking himthese twelve months, but he always kept clear of me; and I willnever rest night or day till I lay my hands on him. "

At this Oonagh set up a loud laugh, of great contempt, by-the-way, and looked at him as if he was only a mere handful of a man. 

"Did you ever see Fin?" said she, changing her manner all at once. 

"How could I?" said he; "he always took care to keep his distance. "

"I thought so, " she replied; "I judged as much; and if you take myadvice, you poor-looking creature, you'll pray night and day thatyou may never see him, for I tell you it will be a black day for youwhen you do. But, in the meantime, you perceive that the wind's onthe door, and as Fin himself is from home, maybe you'd be civilenough to turn the house, for it's always what Fin does when he'shere. "

This was a startler even to Cucullin; but he got up, however, andafter pulling the middle finger of his right hand until it crackedthree times, he went outside, and getting his arms about the house, turned it as she had wished. When Fin saw this, he felt the sweat offear oozing out through every pore of his skin; but Oonagh, depending upon her woman's wit, felt not a whit daunted. 

"Arrah, then, " said she, "as you are so civil, maybe you'd doanother obliging turn for us, as Fin's not here to do it himself. You see, after this long stretch of dry weather we've had, we feelvery badly off for want of water. Now, Fin says there's a finespring-well somewhere under the rocks behind the hill here below, and it was his intention to pull them asunder; but having heard ofyou, he left the place in such a fury, that he never thought of it. Now, if you try to find it, troth I'd feel it a kindness. "

She then brought Cucullin down to see the place, which was then allone solid rock; and, after looking at it for some time, he crackedhis right middle finger nine times, and, stooping down, tore a cleftabout four hundred feet deep, and a quarter of a mile in length, which has since been christened by the name of Lumford's Glen. 

"You'll now come in, " said she, "and eat a bit of such humble fareas we can give you. Fin, even although he and you are enemies, wouldscorn not to treat you kindly in his own house; and, indeed, if Ididn't do it even in his absence, he would not be pleased with me. "

She accordingly brought him in, and placing half-a-dozen of thecakes we spoke of before him, together with a can or two of butter, a side of boiled bacon, and a stack of cabbage, she desired him tohelp himself--for this, be it known, was long before the inventionof potatoes. Cucullin put one of the cakes in his mouth to take ahuge whack out of it, when he made a thundering noise, somethingbetween a growl and a yell. "Blood and fury!" he shouted; "how isthis? Here are two of my teeth out! What kind of bread this is yougave me. "

"What's the matter?" said Oonagh coolly. 

"Matter!" shouted the other again; "why, here are the two best teethin my head gone. "

"Why, " said she, "that's Fin's bread--the only bread he ever eatswhen at home; but, indeed, I forgot to tell you that nobody can eatit but himself, and that child in the cradle there. I thought, however, that, as you were reported to be rather a stout littlefellow of your size, you might be able to manage it, and I did notwish to affront a man that thinks himself able to fight Fin. Here'sanother cake--maybe it's not so hard as that. "

Cucullin at the moment was not only hungry, but ravenous, so heaccordingly made a fresh set at the second cake, and immediatelyanother yell was heard twice as loud as the first. "Thunder andgibbets!" he roared, "take your bread out of this, or I will nothave a tooth in my head; there's another pair of them gone!"

"Well, honest man, " replied Oonagh, "if you're not able to eat thebread, say so quietly, and don't be wakening the child in the cradlethere. There, now, he's awake upon me. "

Fin now gave a skirl that startled the giant, as coming from such ayoungster as he was supposed to be. 

"Mother, " said he, "I'm hungry-get me something to eat. " Oonagh wentover, and putting into his hand a cake that had no griddle in it, Fin, whose appetite in the meantime had been sharpened by seeingeating going forward, soon swallowed it. Cucullin was thunderstruck, and secretly thanked his stars that he had the good fortune to missmeeting Fin, for, as he said to himself, "I'd have no chance with aman who could eat such bread as that, which even his son that's butin his cradle can munch before my eyes. "

"I'd like to take a glimpse at the lad in the cradle, " said he toOonagh; "for I can tell you that the infant who can manage thatnutriment is no joke to look at, or to feed of a scarce summer. "

"With all the veins of my heart, " replied Oonagh; "get up, acushla, and show this decent little man something that won't be unworthy ofyour father, Fin M'Coul. "

Fin, who was dressed for the occasion as much like a boy aspossible, got up, and bringing Cucullin out, "Are you strong?" saidhe. 

"Thunder an' ounds!" exclaimed the other, "what a voice in so smalla chap!"

"Are you strong?" said Fin again; "are you able to squeeze water outof that white stone?" he asked, putting one into Cucullin's hand. The latter squeezed and squeezed the stone, but in vain. 

"Ah, you're a poor creature!" said Fin. "You a giant! Give me thestone here, and when I'll show what Fin's little son can do, you maythen judge of what my daddy himself is. "

Fin then took the stone, and exchanging it for the curds, hesqueezed the latter until the whey, as clear as water, oozed out ina little shower from his hand. 

"I'll now go in, " said he, "to my cradle; for I scorn to lose mytime with any one that's not able to eat my daddy's bread, orsqueeze water out of a stone. Bedad, you had better be off out ofthis before he comes back; for if he catches you, it's in flummeryhe'd have you in two minutes. "

Cucullin, seeing what he had seen, was of the same opinion himself;his knees knocked together with the terror of Fin's return, and heaccordingly hastened to bid Oonagh farewell, and to assure her, thatfrom that day out, he never wished to hear of, much less to see, herhusband. "I admit fairly that I'm not a match for him, " said he, "strong as I am; tell him I will avoid him as I would the plague, and that I will make myself scarce in this part of the country whileI live. "

Fin, in the meantime, had gone into the cradle, where he lay veryquietly, his heart at his mouth with delight that Cucullin was aboutto take his departure, without discovering the tricks that had beenplayed off on him. 

"It's well for you, " said Oonagh, "that he doesn't happen to behere, for it's nothing but hawk's meat he'd make of you. "

"I know that, " says Cucullin; "divil a thing else he'd make of me;but before I go, will you let me feel what kind of teeth Fin's ladhas got that can eat griddle-bread like that?"

"With all pleasure in life, " said she; "only, as they're far back inhis head, you must put your finger a good way in. "

Cucullin was surprised to find such a powerful set of grinders inone so young; but he was still much more so on finding, when he tookhis hand from Fin's mouth, that he had left the very finger uponwhich his whole strength depended, behind him. He gave one loudgroan, and fell down at once with terror and weakness. This was allFin wanted, who now knew that his most powerful and bitterest enemywas at his mercy. He started out of the cradle, and in a few minutesthe great Cucullin, that was for such a length of time the terror ofhim and all his followers, lay a corpse before him. Thus did Fin, through the wit and invention of Oonagh, his wife, succeed inovercoming his enemy by cunning, which he never could have done byforce. 

FAIR, BROWN, AND TREMBLING

King Hugh Curucha lived in Tir Conal, and he had three daughters, whose names were Fair, Brown, and Trembling. Fair and Brown had newdresses, and went to church every Sunday. Trembling was kept at hometo do the cooking and work. They would not let her go out of thehouse at all; for she was more beautiful than the other two, andthey were in dread she might marry before themselves. 

They carried on in this way for seven years. At the end of sevenyears the son of the king of Emania fell in love with the eldestsister. 

One Sunday morning, after the other two had gone to church, the oldhenwife came into the kitchen to Trembling, and said: "It's atchurch you ought to be this day, instead of working here at home. "

"How could I go?" said Trembling. "I have no clothes good enough towear at church; and if my sisters were to see me there, they'd killme for going out of the house. "

"I'll give you, " said the henwife, "a finer dress than either ofthem has ever seen. And now tell me what dress will you have?"

"I'll have, " said Trembling, "a dress as white as snow, and greenshoes for my feet. "

Then the henwife put on the cloak of darkness, clipped a piece fromthe old clothes the young woman had on, and asked for the whitestrobes in the world and the most beautiful that could be found, and apair of green shoes. 

That moment she had the robe and the shoes, and she brought them toTrembling, who put them on. When Trembling was dressed and ready, the henwife said: "I have a honey-bird here to sit on your rightshoulder, and a honey-finger to put on your left. At the door standsa milk-white mare, with a golden saddle for you to sit on, and agolden bridle to hold in your hand. "

Trembling sat on the golden saddle; and when she was ready to start, the henwife said: "You must not go inside the door of the church, and the minute the people rise up at the end of Mass, do you makeoff, and ride home as fast as the mare will carry you. "

When Trembling came to the door of the church there was no oneinside who could get a glimpse of her but was striving to know whoshe was; and when they saw her hurrying away at the end of Mass, they ran out to overtake her. But no use in their running; she wasaway before any man could come near her. From the minute she leftthe church till she got home, she overtook the wind before her, andoutstripped the wind behind. 

She came down at the door, went in, and found the henwife had dinnerready. She put off the white robes, and had on her old dress in atwinkling. 

When the two sisters came home the henwife asked: "Have you any newsto-day from the church?"

"We have great news, " said they. "We saw a wonderful grand lady atthe church-door. The like of the robes she had we have never seen onwoman before. It's little that was thought of our dresses besidewhat she had on; and there wasn't a man at the church, from the kingto the beggar, but was trying to look at her and know who she was. "

The sisters would give no peace till they had two dresses like therobes of the strange lady; but honey-birds and honey-fingers werenot to be found. 

Next Sunday the two sisters went to church again, and left theyoungest at home to cook the dinner. 

After they had gone, the henwife came in and asked: "Will you go tochurch to-day?"

"I would go, " said Trembling, "if I could get the going. "

"What robe will you wear?" asked the henwife. 

"The finest black satin that can be found, and red shoes for myfeet. "

"What colour do you want the mare to be?"

"I want her to be so black and so glossy that I can see myself inher body. "

The henwife put on the cloak of darkness, and asked for the robesand the mare. That moment she had them. When Trembling was dressed, the henwife put the honey-bird on her right shoulder and the honey-finger on her left. The saddle on the mare was silver, and so wasthe bridle. 

When Trembling sat in the saddle and was going away, the henwifeordered her strictly not to go inside the door of the church, but torush away as soon as the people rose at the end of Mass, and hurryhome on the mare before any man could stop her. 

That Sunday, the people were more astonished than ever, and gazed ather more than the first time; and all they were thinking of was toknow who she was. But they had no chance; for the moment the peoplerose at the end of Mass she slipped from the church, was in thesilver saddle, and home before a man could stop her or talk to her. 

The henwife had the dinner ready. Trembling took off her satin robe, and had on her old clothes before her sisters got home. 

"What news have you to-day?" asked the henwife of the sisters whenthey came from the church. 

"Oh, we saw the grand strange lady again! And it's little that anyman could think of our dresses after looking at the robes of satinthat she had on! And all at church, from high to low, had theirmouths open, gazing at her, and no man was looking at us. "

The two sisters gave neither rest nor peace till they got dresses asnearly like the strange lady's robes as they could find. Of coursethey were not so good; for the like of those robes could not befound in Erin. 

When the third Sunday came, Fair and Brown went to church dressed inblack satin. They left Trembling at home to work in the kitchen, andtold her to be sure and have dinner ready when they came back. 

After they had gone and were out of sight, the henwife came to thekitchen and said: "Well, my dear, are you for church to-day?"

"I would go if I had a new dress to wear. "

"I'll get you any dress you ask for. What dress would you like?"asked the henwife. 

"A dress red as a rose from the waist down, and white as snow fromthe waist up; a cape of green on my shoulders; and a hat on my headwith a red, a white, and a green feather in it; and shoes for myfeet with the toes red, the middle white, and the backs and heelsgreen. "

The henwife put on the cloak of darkness, wished for all thesethings, and had them. When Trembling was dressed, the henwife putthe honey-bird on her right shoulder and the honey-finger on herleft, and, placing the hat on her head, clipped a few hairs from onelock and a few from another with her scissors, and that moment themost beautiful golden hair was flowing down over the girl'sshoulders. Then the henwife asked what kind of a mare she wouldride. She said white, with blue and gold-coloured diamond-shapedspots all over her body, on her back a saddle of gold, and on herhead a golden bridle. 

The mare stood there before the door, and a bird sitting between herears, which began to sing as soon as Trembling was in the saddle, and never stopped till she came home from the church. 

The fame of the beautiful strange lady had gone out through theworld, and all the princes and great men that were in it came tochurch that Sunday, each one hoping that it was himself would haveher home with him after Mass. 

The son of the king of Emania forgot all about the eldest sister, and remained outside the church, so as to catch the strange ladybefore she could hurry away. 

The church was more crowded than ever before, and there were threetimes as many outside. There was such a throng before the churchthat Trembling could only come inside the gate. 

As soon as the people were rising at the end of Mass, the ladyslipped out through the gate, was in the golden saddle in aninstant, and sweeping away ahead of the wind. But if she was, theprince of Emania was at her side, and, seizing her by the foot, heran with the mare for thirty perches, and never let go of thebeautiful lady till the shoe was pulled from her foot, and he wasleft behind with it in his hand. She came home as fast as the marecould carry her, and was thinking all the time that the henwifewould kill her for losing the shoe. 

Seeing her so vexed and so changed in the face, the old woman asked:"What's the trouble that's on you now?" "Oh! I've lost one of theshoes off my feet, " said Trembling. 

"Don't mind that; don't be vexed, " said the henwife; "maybe it's thebest thing that ever happened to you. "

Then Trembling gave up all the things she had to the henwife, put onher old clothes, and went to work in the kitchen. When the sisterscame home, the henwife asked: "Have you any news from the church?"

"We have indeed, " said they, "for we saw the grandest sight to-day. The strange lady came again, in grander array than before. Onherself and the horse she rode were the finest colours of the world, and between the ears of the horse was a bird which never stoppedsinging from the time she came till she went away. The lady herselfis the most beautiful woman ever seen by man in Erin. "

After Trembling had disappeared from the church, the son of the kingof Emania said to the other kings' sons: "I will have that lady formy own. "

They all said: "You didn't win her just by taking the shoe off herfoot; you'll have to win her by the point of the sword; you'll haveto fight for her with us before you can call her your own. "

"Well, " said the son of the king of Emania, "when I find the ladythat shoe will fit, I'll fight for her, never fear, before I leaveher to any of you. "

Then all the kings' sons were uneasy, and anxious to know who wasshe that lost the shoe; and they began to travel all over Erin toknow could they find her. The prince of Emania and all the otherswent in a great company together, and made the round of Erin; theywent everywhere, --north, south, east, and west. They visited everyplace where a woman was to be found, and left not a house in thekingdom they did not search, to know could they find the woman theshoe would fit, not caring whether she was rich or poor, of high orlow degree. 

The prince of Emania always kept the shoe; and when the young womensaw it, they had great hopes, for it was of proper size, neitherlarge nor small, and it would beat any man to know of what materialit was made. One thought it would fit her if she cut a little fromher great toe; and another, with too short a foot, put something inthe tip of her stocking. But no use; they only spoiled their feet, and were curing them for months afterwards. 

The two sisters, Fair and Brown, heard that the princes of the worldwere looking all over Erin for the woman that could wear the shoe, and every day they were talking of trying it on; and one dayTrembling spoke up and said: "Maybe it's my foot that the shoe willfit. "

"Oh, the breaking of the dog's foot on you! Why say so when you wereat home every Sunday?"

They were that way waiting, and scolding the younger sister, tillthe princes were near the place. The day they were to come, thesisters put Trembling in a closet, and locked the door on her. Whenthe company came to the house, the prince of Emania gave the shoe tothe sisters. But though they tried and tried, it would fit neitherof them. 

"Is there any other young woman in the house?" asked the prince. 

"There is, " said Trembling, speaking up in the closet; "I'm here. "

"Oh! we have her for nothing but to put out the ashes, " said thesisters. 

But the prince and the others wouldn't leave the house till they hadseen her; so the two sisters had to open the door. When Tremblingcame out, the shoe was given to her, and it fitted exactly. 

The prince of Emania looked at her and said: "You are the woman theshoe fits, and you are the woman I took the shoe from. "

Then Trembling spoke up, and said: "Do you stay here till I return. "

Then she went to the henwife's house. The old woman put on the cloakof darkness, got everything for her she had the first Sunday atchurch, and put her on the white mare in the same fashion. ThenTrembling rode along the highway to the front of the house. All whosaw her the first time said: "This is the lady we saw at church. "

Then she went away a second time, and a second time came back on theblack mare in the second dress which the henwife gave her. All whosaw her the second Sunday said: "That is the lady we saw at church. "

A third time she asked for a short absence, and soon came back onthe third mare and in the third dress. All who saw her the thirdtime said: "That is the lady we saw at church. " Every man wassatisfied, and knew that she was the woman. 

Then all the princes and great men spoke up, and said to the son ofthe king of Emania: "You'll have to fight now for her before we lether go with you. "

"I'm here before you, ready for combat, " answered the prince. 

Then the son of the king of Lochlin stepped forth. The strugglebegan, and a terrible struggle it was. They fought for nine hours;and then the son of the king of Lochlin stopped, gave up his claim, and left the field. Next day the son of the king of Spain fought sixhours, and yielded his claim. On the third day the son of the kingof Nyerfói fought eight hours, and stopped. The fourth day the sonof the king of Greece fought six hours, and stopped. On the fifthday no more strange princes wanted to fight; and all the sons ofkings in Erin said they would not fight with a man of their ownland, that the strangers had had their chance, and, as no otherscame to claim the woman, she belonged of right to the son of theking of Emania. 

The marriage-day was fixed, and the invitations were sent out. Thewedding lasted for a year and a day. When the wedding was over, theking's son brought home the bride, and when the time came a son wasborn. The young woman sent for her eldest sister, Fair, to be withher and care for her. One day, when Trembling was well, and when herhusband was away hunting, the two sisters went out to walk; and whenthey came to the seaside, the eldest pushed the youngest sister in. A great whale came and swallowed her. 

The eldest sister came home alone, and the husband asked, "Where isyour sister?"

"She has gone home to her father in Ballyshannon; now that I amwell, I don't need her. "

"Well, " said the husband, looking at her, "I'm in dread it's my wifethat has gone. "

"Oh! no, " said she; "it's my sister Fair that's gone. "

Since the sisters were very much alike, the prince was in doubt. That night he put his sword between them, and said: "If you are mywife, this sword will get warm; if not, it will stay cold. "

In the morning when he rose up, the sword was as cold as when he putit there. 

It happened, when the two sisters were walking by the seashore, thata little cowboy was down by the water minding cattle, and saw Fairpush Trembling into the sea; and next day, when the tide came in, hesaw the whale swim up and throw her out on the sand. When she was onthe sand she said to the cowboy: "When you go home in the eveningwith the cows, tell the master that my sister Fair pushed me intothe sea yesterday; that a whale swallowed me, and then threw me out, but will come again and swallow me with the coming of the next tide;then he'll go out with the tide, and come again with to-morrow'stide, and throw me again on the strand. The whale will cast me outthree times. I'm under the enchantment of this whale, and cannotleave the beach or escape myself. Unless my husband saves me beforeI'm swallowed the fourth time, I shall be lost. He must come andshoot the whale with a silver bullet when he turns on the broad ofhis back. Under the breast-fin of the whale is a reddish-brown spot. My husband must hit him in that spot, for it is the only place inwhich he can be killed. "

When the cowboy got home, the eldest sister gave him a draught ofoblivion, and he did not tell. 

Next day he went again to the sea. The whale came and cast Tremblingon shore again. She asked the boy "Did you tell the master what Itold you to tell him?"

"I did not, " said he; "I forgot. "

"How did you forget?" asked she. 

"The woman of the house gave me a drink that made me forget. "

"Well, don't forget telling him this night; and if she gives you adrink, don't take it from her. "

As soon as the cowboy came home, the eldest sister offered him adrink. He refused to take it till he had delivered his message andtold all to the master. The third day the prince went down with hisgun and a silver bullet in it. He was not long down when the whalecame and threw Trembling upon the beach as the two days before. Shehad no power to speak to her husband till he had killed the whale. Then the whale went out, turned over once on the broad of his back, and showed the spot for a moment only. That moment the prince fired. He had but the one chance, and a short one at that; but he took it, and hit the spot, and the whale, mad with pain, made the sea allaround red with blood, and died. 

That minute Trembling was able to speak, and went home with herhusband, who sent word to her father what the eldest sister haddone. The father came, and told him any death he chose to give herto give it. The prince told the father he would leave her life anddeath with himself. The father had her put out then on the sea in abarrel, with provisions in it for seven years. 

In time Trembling had a second child, a daughter. The prince and shesent the cowboy to school, and trained him up as one of their ownchildren, and said: "If the little girl that is born to us nowlives, no other man in the world will get her but him. "

The cowboy and the prince's daughter lived on till they weremarried. The mother said to her husband "You could not have saved mefrom the whale but for the little cowboy; on that account I don'tgrudge him my daughter. "

The son of the king of Emania and Trembling had fourteen children, and they lived happily till the two died of old age. 

JACK AND HIS MASTER

A poor woman had three sons. The eldest and second eldest werecunning clever fellows, but they called the youngest Jack the Fool, because they thought he was no better than a simpleton. The eldestgot tired of staying at home, and said he'd go look for service. Hestayed away a whole year, and then came back one day, dragging onefoot after the other, and a poor wizened face on him, and he ascross as two sticks. When he was rested and got something to eat, hetold them how he got service with the Gray Churl of the Townland ofMischance, and that the agreement was, whoever would first say hewas sorry for his bargain, should get an inch wide of the skin ofhis back, from shoulder to hips, taken off. If it was the master, heshould also pay double wages; if it was the servant, he should getno wages at all. "But the thief, " says he, "gave me so little toeat, and kept me so hard at work, that flesh and blood couldn'tstand it; and when he asked me once, when I was in a passion, if Iwas sorry for my bargain, I was mad enough to say I was, and here Iam disabled for life. "

Vexed enough were the poor mother and brothers; and the secondeldest said on the spot he'd go and take service with the GrayChurl, and punish him by all the annoyance he'd give him till he'dmake him say he was sorry for his agreement. "Oh, won't I be glad tosee the skin coming off the old villain's back!" said he. All theycould say had no effect: he started off for the Townland ofMischance, and in a twelvemonth he was back just as miserable andhelpless as his brother. 

All the poor mother could say didn't prevent Jack the Fool fromstarting to see if he was able to regulate the Gray Churl. He agreedwith him for a year for twenty pounds, and the terms were the same. 

"Now, Jack, " said the Gray Churl, "if you refuse to do anything youare able to do, you must lose a month's wages. "

"I'm satisfied, " said Jack; "and if you stop me from doing a thingafter telling me to do it, you are to give me an additional month'swages. "

"I am satisfied, " says the master. 

"Or if you blame me for obeying your orders, you must give thesame. "

"I am satisfied, " said the master again. 

The first day that Jack served he was fed very poorly, and wasworked to the saddleskirts. Next day he came in just before thedinner was sent up to the parlour. They were taking the goose offthe spit, but well becomes Jack he whips a knife off the dresser, and cuts off one side of the breast, one leg and thigh, and onewing, and fell to. In came the master, and began to abuse him forhis assurance. "Oh, you know, master, you're to feed me, andwherever the goose goes won't have to be filled again till supper. Are you sorry for our agreement?"

The master was going to cry out he was, but he bethought himself intime. "Oh no, not at all, " said he. 

"That's well, " said Jack. 

Next day Jack was to go clamp turf on the bog. They weren't sorry tohave him away from the kitchen at dinner time. He didn't find hisbreakfast very heavy on his stomach; so he said to the mistress, "Ithink, ma'am, it will be better for me to get my dinner now, and notlose time coming home from the bog. "

"That's true, Jack, " said she. So she brought out a good cake, and aprint of butter, and a bottle of milk, thinking he'd take them awayto the bog. But Jack kept his seat, and never drew rein till bread, butter, and milk went down the red lane. 

"Now, mistress, " said he, "I'll be earlier at my work to-morrow if Isleep comfortably on the sheltery side of a pile of dry peat on drygrass, and not be coming here and going back. So you may as wellgive me my supper, and be done with the day's trouble. " She gave himthat, thinking he'd take it to the bog; but he fell to on the spot, and did not leave a scrap to tell tales on him; and the mistress wasa little astonished. 

He called to speak to the master in the haggard, and said he, "Whatare servants asked to do in this country after aten their supper?"

"Nothing at all, but to go to bed. "

"Oh, very well, sir. " He went up on the stable-loft, stripped, andlay down, and some one that saw him told the master. He came up. 

"Jack, you anointed scoundrel, what do you mean?" "To go to sleep, master. The mistress, God bless her, is after giving me mybreakfast, dinner, and supper, and yourself told me that bed was thenext thing. Do you blame me, sir?"

"Yes, you rascal, I do. "

"Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, if you please, sir. "

"One divel and thirteen imps, you tinker! what for?"

"Oh, I see, you've forgot your bargain. Are you sorry for it?"

"Oh, ya--no, I mean. I'll give you the money after your nap. "

Next morning early, Jack asked how he'd be employed that day. "Youare to be holding the plough in that fallow, outside the paddock. "The master went over about nine o'clock to see what kind of aploughman was Jack, and what did he see but the little boy drivingthe bastes, and the sock and coulter of the plough skimming alongthe sod, and Jack pulling ding-dong again' the horses. 

"What are you doing, you contrary thief?" said the master. 

"An' ain't I strivin' to hold this divel of a plough, as you toldme; but that ounkrawn of a boy keeps whipping on the bastes in spiteof all I say; will you speak to him?"

"No, but I'll speak to you. Didn't you know, you bosthoon, that whenI said 'holding the plough, ' I meant reddening the ground. "

"Faith, an' if you did, I wish you had said so. Do you blame me forwhat I have done?"

The master caught himself in time, but he was so stomached, he saidnothing. 

"Go on and redden the ground now, you knave, as other ploughmen do. "

"An' are you sorry for our agreement?"

"Oh, not at all, not at all!"

Jack, ploughed away like a good workman all the rest of the day. 

In a day or two the master bade him go and mind the cows in a fieldthat had half of it under young corn. "Be sure, particularly, " saidhe, "to keep Browney from the wheat; while she's out of mischiefthere's no fear of the rest. "

About noon, he went to see how Jack was doing his duty, and what didhe find but Jack asleep with his face to the sod, Browney grazingnear a thorn-tree, one end of a long rope round her horns, and theother end round the tree, and the rest of the beasts all tramplingand eating the green wheat. Down came the switch on Jack. 

"Jack, you vagabone, do you see what the cows are at?"

"And do you blame, master?"

"To be sure, you lazy sluggard, I do?"

"Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, master. You said if Ionly kept Browney out of mischief, the rest would do no harm. Thereshe is as harmless as a lamb. Are you sorry for hiring me, master?"

"To be--that is, not at all. I'll give you your money when you go todinner. Now, understand me; don't let a cow go out of the field norinto the wheat the rest of the day. "

"Never fear, master!" and neither did he. But the churl would ratherthan a great deal he had not hired him. 

The next day three heifers were missing, and the master bade Jack goin search of them. 

"Where will I look for them?" said Jack. 

"Oh, every place likely and unlikely for them all to be in. "

The churl was getting very exact in his words. When he was cominginto the bawn at dinner-time, what work did he find Jack at butpulling armfuls of the thatch off the roof, and peeping into theholes he was making?

"What are you doing there, you rascal?"

"Sure, I'm looking for the heifers, poor things!"

"What would bring them there?"

"I don't think anything could bring them in it; but I looked firstinto the likely places, that is, the cow-houses, and the pastures, and the fields next 'em, and now I'm looking in the unlikeliestplace I can think of. Maybe it's not pleasing to you it is. "

"And to be sure it isn't pleasing to me, you aggravating goose-cap!"

"Please, sir, hand me one pound thirteen and four pence before yousit down to your dinner. I'm afraid it's sorrow that's on you forhiring me at all. "

"May the div--oh no; I'm not sorry. Will you begin, if you please, and put in the thatch again, just as if you were doing it for yourmother's cabin?"

"Oh, faith I will, sir, with a heart and a half;" and by the timethe farmer came out from his dinner, Jack had the roof better thanit was before, for he made the boy give him new straw. 

Says the master when he came out, "Go, Jack, and look for theheifers, and bring them home. "

"And where will I look for 'em?"

"Go and search for them as if they were your own. " The heifers wereall in the paddock before sunset. 

Next morning, says the master, "Jack, the path across the bog to thepasture is very bad; the sheep does be sinking in it every step; goand make the sheep's feet a good path. " About an hour after he cameto the edge of the bog, and what did he find Jack at but sharpeninga carving knife, and the sheep standing or grazing round. 

"Is this the way you are mending the path, Jack?" said he. 

"Everything must have a beginning, master, " said Jack, "and a thingwell begun is half done. I am sharpening the knife, and I'll havethe feet off every sheep in the flock while you'd be blessingyourself. "

"Feet off my sheep, you anointed rogue! and what would you be takingtheir feet off for?"

"An' sure to mend the path as you told me. Says you, 'Jack, make apath with the foot of the sheep. '"

"Oh, you fool, I meant make good the path for the sheep's feet. "

"It's a pity you didn't say so, master. Hand me out one poundthirteen and fourpence if you don't like me to finish my job. "

"Divel do you good with your one pound thirteen and fourpence!"

"It's better pray than curse, master. Maybe you're sorry for yourbargain?"

"And to be sure I am--not yet, any way. "

The next night the master was going to a wedding; and says he toJack, before he set out: "I'll leave at midnight, and I wish you, tocome and be with me home, for fear I might be overtaken with thedrink. If you're there before, you may throw a sheep's eye at me, and I'll be sure to see that they'll give you something foryourself. "

About eleven o'clock, while the master was in great spirits, he feltsomething clammy hit him on the cheek. It fell beside his tumbler, and when he looked at it what was it but the eye of a sheep. Well, he couldn't imagine who threw it at him, or why it was thrown athim. After a little he got a blow on the other cheek, and still itwas by another sheep's eye. Well, he was very vexed, but he thoughtbetter to say nothing. In two minutes more, when he was opening hismouth to take a sup, another sheep's eye was slapped into it. Hesputtered it out, and cried, "Man o' the house, isn't it a greatshame for you to have any one in the room that would do such a nastything?"

"Master, " says Jack, "don't blame the honest man. Sure it's onlymyself that was thrown' them sheep's eyes at you, to remind you Iwas here, and that I wanted to drink the bride and bridegroom'shealth. You know yourself bade me. "

"I know that you are a great rascal; and where did you get theeyes?"

"An' where would I get em' but in the heads of your own sheep? Wouldyou have me meddle with the bastes of any neighbour, who might putme in the Stone Jug for it?"

"Sorrow on me that ever I had the bad luck to meet with you. "

"You're all witness, " said Jack, "that my master says he is sorryfor having met with me. My time is up. Master, hand me over doublewages, and come into the next room, and lay yourself out like a manthat has some decency in him, till I take a strip of skin an inchbroad from your shoulder to your hip. "

Every one shouted out against that; but, says Jack, "You didn'thinder him when he took the same strips from the backs of my twobrothers, and sent them home in that state, and penniless, to theirpoor mother. "

When the company heard the rights of the business, they were onlytoo eager to see the job done. The master bawled and roared, butthere was no help at hand. He was stripped to his hips, and laid onthe floor in the next room, and Jack had the carving knife in hishand ready to begin. 

"Now you cruel old villain, " said he, giving the knife a couple ofscrapes along the floor, "I'll make you an offer. Give me, alongwith my double wages, two hundred guineas to support my poorbrothers, and I'll do without the strap. "

"No!" said he, "I'd let you skin me from head to foot first. "

"Here goes then, " said Jack with a grin, but the first little scarhe gave, Churl roared out, "Stop your hand; I'll give the money. "

"Now, neighbours, " said Jack, "you mustn't think worse of me than Ideserve. I wouldn't have the heart to take an eye out of a ratitself; I got half a dozen of them from the butcher, and only usedthree of them. "

So all came again into the other room, and Jack was made sit down, and everybody drank his health, and he drank everybody's health atone offer. And six stout fellows saw himself and the master home, and waited in the parlour while he went up and brought down the twohundred guineas, and double wages for Jack himself. When he gothome, he brought the summer along with him to the poor mother andthe disabled brothers; and he was no more Jack the Fool in thepeople's mouths, but "Skin Churl Jack. "

BETH GELLERT

Print Llewelyn had a favourite greyhound named Gellert that had beengiven to him by his father-in-law, King John. He was as gentle as alamb at home but a lion in the chase. One day Llewelyn went to thechase and blew his horn in front of his castle. All his other dogscame to the call but Gellert never answered it. So he blew a louderblast on his horn and called Gellert by name, but still thegreyhound did not come. At last Prince Llewelyn could wait no longerand went off to the hunt without Gellert. He had little sport thatday because Gellert was not there, the swiftest and boldest of hishounds. 

He turned back in a rage to his castle, and as he came to the gate, who should he see but Gellert come bounding out to meet him. Butwhen the hound came near him, the Prince was startled to see thathis lips and fangs were dripping with blood. Llewelyn started backand the greyhound crouched down at his feet as if surprised orafraid at the way his master greeted him. 

Now Prince Llewelyn had a little son a year old with whom Gellertused to play, and a terrible thought crossed the Prince's mind thatmade him rush towards the child's nursery. And the nearer he camethe more blood and disorder he found about the rooms. He rushed intoit and found the child's cradle overturned and daubed with blood. 

Prince Llewelyn grew more and more terrified, and sought for hislittle son everywhere. He could find him nowhere but only signs ofsome terrible conflict in which much blood had been shed. At last hefelt sure the dog had destroyed his child, and shouting to Gellert, "Monster, thou hast devoured my child, " he drew out his sword andplunged it in the greyhound's side, who fell with a deep yell andstill gazing in his master's eyes. 

As Gellert raised his dying yell, a little child's cry answered itfrom beneath the cradle, and there Llewelyn found his child unharmedand just awakened from sleep. But just beside him lay the body of agreat gaunt wolf all torn to pieces and covered with blood. Toolate, Llewelyn learned what had happened while he was away. Gellerthad stayed behind to guard the child and had fought and slain thewolf that had tried to destroy Llewelyn's heir. 

In vain was all Llewelyn's grief; he could not bring his faithfuldog to life again. So he buried him outside the castle walls withinsight of the great mountain of Snowdon, where every passer-by mightsee his grave, and raised over it a great cairn of stones. And tothis day the place is called Beth Gellert, or the Grave of Gellert. 

THE TALE OF IVAN

There were formerly a man and a woman living in the parish ofLlanlavan, in the place which is called Hwrdh. And work becamescarce, so the man said to his wife, "I will go search for work, andyou may live here. " So he took fair leave, and travelled far towardthe East, and at last came to the house of a farmer and asked forwork. 

"What work can ye do?" said the farmer. "I can do all kinds ofwork, " said Ivan. Then they agreed upon three pounds for the year'swages. 

When the end of the year came his master showed him the threepounds. "See, Ivan, " said he, "here's your wage; but if you willgive it me back I'll give you a piece of advice instead. "

"Give me my wage, " said Ivan. 

"No, I'll not, " said the master; "I'll explain my advice. "

"Tell it me, then, " said Ivan. 

Then said the master, "Never leave the old road for the sake of anew one. "

After that they agreed for another year at the old wages, and at theend of it Ivan took instead a piece of advice, and this was it:"Never lodge where an old man is married to a young woman. "

The same thing happened at the end of the third year, when the pieceof advice was: "Honesty is the best policy. "

But Ivan would not stay longer, but wanted to go back to his wife. 

"Don't go to-day, " said his master; "my wife bakes to-morrow, andshe shall make thee a cake to take home to thy good woman. "

And when Ivan was going to leave, "Here, " said his master, "here isa cake for thee to take home to thy wife, and, when ye are mostjoyous together, then break the cake, and not sooner. "

So he took fair leave of them and travelled towards home, and atlast he came to Wayn Her, and there he met three merchants from TreRhyn, of his own parish, coming home from Exeter Fair. "Oho! Ivan, "said they, "come with us; glad are we to see you. Where have youbeen so long?"

"I have been in service, " said Ivan, "and now I'm going home to mywife. "

"Oh, come with us! you'll be right welcome. " But when they took thenew road Ivan kept to the old one. And robbers fell upon them beforethey had gone far from Ivan as they were going by the fields of thehouses in the meadow. They began to cry out, "Thieves!" and Ivanshouted out "Thieves!" too. And when the robbers heard Ivan's shoutthey ran away, and the merchants went by the new road and Ivan bythe old one till they met again at Market-Jew. 

"Oh, Ivan, " said the merchants, "we are beholding to you; but foryou we would have been lost men. Come lodge with us at our cost, andwelcome. "

When they came to the place where they used to lodge, Ivan said, "Imust see the host. "

"The host, " they cried; "what do you want with the host? Here is thehostess, and she's young and pretty. If you want to see the hostyou'll find him in the kitchen. "

So he went into the kitchen to see the host; he found him a weak oldman turning the spit. 

"Oh! oh!" quoth Ivan, "I'll not lodge here, but will go next door. "

"Not yet, " said the merchants, "sup with us, and welcome. "

Now it happened that the hostess had plotted with a certain monk inMarket-Jew to murder the old man in his bed that night while therest were asleep, and they agreed to lay it on the lodgers. 

So while Ivan was in bed next door, there was a hole in the pine-endof the house, and he saw a light through it. So he got up andlooked, and heard the monk speaking. "I had better cover this hole, "said he, "or people in the next house may see our deeds. " So hestood with his back against it while the hostess killed the old man. 

But meanwhile Ivan out with his knife, and putting it through thehole, cut a round piece off the monk's robe. The very next morningthe hostess raised the cry that her husband was murdered, and asthere was neither man nor child in the house but the merchants, shedeclared they ought to be hanged for it. 

So they were taken and carried to prison, till a last Ivan came tothem. "Alas! alas! Ivan, " cried they, "bad luck sticks to us; ourhost was killed last night, and we shall be hanged for it. "

"Ah, tell the justices, " said Ivan, "to summon the real murderers. "

"Who knows, " they replied, "who committed the crime?"

"Who committed the crime!" said Ivan. "if I cannot prove whocommitted the crime, hang me in your stead. "

So he told all he knew, and brought out the piece of cloth from themonk's robe, and with that the merchants were set at liberty, andthe hostess and the monk were seized and hanged. 

Then they came all together out of Market-Jew, and they said to him:"Come as far as Coed Carrn y Wylfa, the Wood of the Heap of Stonesof Watching, in the parish of Burman. " Then their two roadsseparated, and though the merchants wished Ivan to go with them, hewould not go with them, but went straight home to his wife. 

And when his wife saw him she said: "Home in the nick of time. Here's a purse of gold that I've found; it has no name, but sure itbelongs to the great lord yonder. I was just thinking what to dowhen you came. "

Then Ivan thought of the third counsel, and he said "Let us go andgive it to the great lord. "

So they went up to the castle, but the great lord was not in it, sothey left the purse with the servant that minded the gate, and thenthey went home again and lived in quiet for a time. 

But one day the great lord stopped at their house for a drink ofwater, and Ivan's wife said to him: "I hope your lordship found yourlordship's purse quite safe with all its money in it. "

"What purse is that you are talking about?" said the lord. 

"Sure, it's your lordship's purse that I left at the castle, " saidIvan. 

"Come with me and we will see into the matter, " said the lord. 

So Ivan and his wife went up to the castle, and there they pointedout the man to whom they had given the purse, and he had to give itup and was sent away from the castle. And the lord was so pleasedwith Ivan that he made him his servant in the stead of the thief. 

"Honesty's the best policy!" quoth Ivan, as he skipped about in hisnew quarters. "How joyful I am!"

Then he thought of his old master's cake that he was to eat when hewas most joyful, and when he broke it, to and behold, inside it washis wages for the three years he had been with him. 

ANDREW COFFEY

My grandfather, Andrew Coffey, was known to the whole barony as aquiet, decent man. And if the whole barony knew him, he knew thewhole barony, every inch, hill and dale, bog and pasture, field andcovert. Fancy his surprise one evening, when he found himself in apart of the demesne he couldn't recognise a bit. He and his goodhorse were always stumbling up against some tree or stumbling downinto some bog-hole that by rights didn't ought to be there. On thetop of all this the rain came pelting down wherever there was aclearing, and the cold March wind tore through the trees. Glad hewas then when he saw a light in the distance, and drawing near founda cabin, though for the life of him he couldn't think how it camethere. However, in he walked, after tying up his horse, and rightwelcome was the brushwood fire blazing on the hearth. And therestood a chair right and tight, that seemed to say, "Come, sit downin me. " There wasn't a soul else in the room. Well, he did sit, andgot a little warm and cheered after his drenching. But all the whilehe was wondering and wondering. 

"Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!"

Good heavens! who was calling him, and not a soul in sight? Lookaround as he might, indoors and out, he could find no creature withtwo legs or four, for his horse was gone. 

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! tell me a story. "

It was louder this time, and it was nearer. And then what a thing toask for! It was bad enough not to be let sit by the fire and dryoneself, without being bothered for a story. 

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY!! Tell me a story, or it'll be theworse for you. "

My poor grandfather was so dumbfounded that he could only stand andstare. 

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! I told you it'd be the worse foryou. "

And with that, out there bounced, from a cupboard that AndrewCoffey had never noticed before, _a man_. And the man was in atowering rage. But it wasn't that. And he carried as fine ablackthorn as you'd wish to crack a man's head with. But it wasn'tthat either. But when my grandfather clapped eyes on him, he knewhim for Patrick Rooney, and all the world knew _he'd_ goneoverboard, fishing one night long years before. 

Andrew Coffey would neither stop nor stay, but he took to his heelsand was out of the house as hard as he could. He ran and he rantaking little thought of what was before till at last he ran upagainst a big tree. And then he sat down to rest. 

He hadn't sat for a moment when he heard voices. 

"It's heavy he is, the vagabond. " "Steady now, we'll rest when weget under the big tree yonder. " Now that happened to be the treeunder which Andrew Coffey was sitting. At least he thought so, forseeing a branch handy he swung himself up by it and was soon snuglyhidden away. Better see than be seen, thought he. 

The rain had stopped and the wind fallen. The night was blacker thanever, but Andrew Coffey could see four men, and they were carryingbetween them a long box. Under the tree they came, set the box down, opened it, and who should they bring out but--Patrick Rooney. Nevera word did he say, and he looked as pale as old snow. 

Well, one gathered brushwood, and another took out tinder and flint, and soon they had a big fire roaring, and my grandfather could seePatrick plainly enough. If he had kept still before, he kept stillernow. Soon they had four poles up and a pole across, right over thefire, for all the world like a spit, and on to the pole they slungPatrick Rooney. 

"He'll do well enough, " said one; "but who's to mind him whilstwe're away, who'll turn the fire, who'll see that he doesn't burn?"

With that Patrick opened his lips: "Andrew Coffey, " said he. 

"Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!"

"I'm much obliged to you, gentlemen, " said Andrew Coffey, "butindeed I know nothing about the business. "

"You'd better come down, Andrew Coffey, " said Patrick. 

It was the second time he spoke, and Andrew Coffey decided he wouldcome down. The four men went off and he was left all alone withPatrick. 

Then he sat and he kept the fire even, and he kept the spit turning, and all the while Patrick looked at him. 

Poor Andrew Coffey couldn't make it all out at all, at all, and hestared at Patrick and at the fire, and he thought of the littlehouse in the wood, till he felt quite dazed. 

"Ah, but it's burning me ye are!" says Patrick, very short andsharp. 

"I'm sure I beg your pardon, " said my grandfather "but might I askyou a question?"

"If you want a crooked answer, " said Patrick; "turn away or it'll bethe worse for you. "

But my grandfather couldn't get it out of his head; hadn'teverybody, far and near, said Patrick had fallen overboard. Therewas enough to think about, and my grandfather did think. 

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! IT'S BURNING ME YE ARE. "

Sorry enough my grandfather was, and he vowed he wouldn't do soagain. 

"You'd better not, " said Patrick, and he gave him a cock of his eye, and a grin of his teeth, that just sent a shiver down AndrewCoffey's back. Well it was odd, that here he should be in a thickwood he had never set eyes upon, turning Patrick Rooney upon a spit. You can't wonder at my grandfather thinking and thinking and notminding the fire. 

"ANDREW COFFEY, ANDREW COFFEY, IT'S THE DEATH OF YOU I'LL BE. "

And with that what did my grandfather see, but Patrick unslinginghimself from the spit and his eyes glared and his teeth glistened. 

It was neither stop nor stay my grandfather made, but out he raninto the night of the wood. It seemed to him there wasn't a stonebut was for his stumbling, not a branch but beat his face, not abramble but tore his skin. And wherever it was clear the rain pelteddown and the cold March wind howled along. 

Glad he was to see a light, and a minute after he was kneeling, dazed, drenched, and bedraggled by the hearth side. The brushwoodflamed, and the brushwood crackled, and soon my grandfather began tofeel a little warm and dry and easy in his mind. 

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY!"

It's hard for a man to jump when he has been through all mygrandfather had, but jump he did. And when he looked around, whereshould he find himself but in the very cabin he had first metPatrick in. 

"Andrew Coffey, Andrew Coffey, tell me a story. "

"Is it a story you want?" said my grandfather as bold as may be, forhe was just tired of being frightened. "Well if you can tell me therights of this one, I'll be thankful. "

And he told the tale of what had befallen him from first to lastthat night. The tale was long, and may be Andrew Coffey was weary. It's asleep he must have fallen, for when he awoke he lay on thehill-side under the open heavens, and his horse grazed at his side. 

THE BATTLE OF THE BIRDS

I will tell you a story about the wren. There was once a farmer whowas seeking a servant, and the wren met him and said: "What are youseeking?"

"I am seeking a servant, " said the farmer to the wren. 

"Will you take me?" said the wren. 

"You, you poor creature, what good would you do?"

"Try me, " said the wren. 

So he engaged him, and the first work he set him to do was threshingin the barn. The wren threshed (what did he thresh with? Why a flailto be sure), and he knocked off one grain. A mouse came out and sheeats that. 

"I'll trouble you not to do that again, " said the wren. 

He struck again, and he struck off two grains. Out came the mouseand she eats them. So they arranged a contest to see who wasstrongest, and the wren brings his twelve birds, and the mouse hertribe. 

"You have your tribe with you, " said the wren. 

"As well as yourself, " said the mouse, and she struck out her legproudly. But the wren broke it with his flail, and there was apitched battle on a set day. 

When every creature and bird was gathering to battle, the son of theking of Tethertown said that he would go to see the battle, and thathe would bring sure word home to his father the king, who would beking of the creatures this year. The battle was over before hearrived all but one fight, between a great black raven and a snake. The snake was twined about the raven's neck, and the raven held thesnake's throat in his beak, and it seemed as if the snake would getthe victory over the raven. When the king's son saw this he helpedthe raven, and with one blow takes the head off the snake. When theraven had taken breath, and saw that the snake was dead, he said, "For thy kindness to me this day, I will give thee a sight. Come upnow on the root of my two wings. " The king's son put his hands aboutthe raven before his wings, and, before he stopped, he took him overnine Bens, and nine Glens, and nine Mountain Moors. 

"Now, " said the raven, "see you that house yonder? Go now to it. Itis a sister of mine that makes her dwelling in it; and I will gobail that you are welcome. And if she asks you, Were you at thebattle of the birds? say you were. And if she asks, 'Did you see anyone like me, ' say you did, but be sure that you meet me to-morrowmorning here, in this place. " The king's son got good and right goodtreatment that night. Meat of each meat, drink of each drink, warmwater to his feet, and a soft bed for his limbs. 

On the next day the raven gave him the same sight over six Bens, andsix Glens, and six Mountain Moors. They saw a bothy far off, but, though far off, they were soon there. He got good treatment thisnight, as before--plenty of meat and drink, and warm water to hisfeet, and a soft bed to his limbs--and on the next day it was thesame thing, over three Bens and three Glens, and three MountainMoors. 

On the third morning, instead of seeing the raven as at the othertimes, who should meet him but the handsomest lad he ever saw, withgold rings in his hair, with a bundle in his hand. The king's sonasked this lad if he had seen a big black raven. 

Said the lad to him, "You will never see the raven again, for I amthat raven. I was put under spells by a bad druid; it was meetingyou that loosed me, and for that you shall get this bundle. Now, "said the lad, "you must turn back on the self-same steps, and lie anight in each house as before; but you must not loose the bundlewhich I gave ye, till in the place where you would most wish todwell. "

The king's son turned his back to the lad, and his face to hisfather's house; and he got lodging from the raven's sisters, just ashe got it when going forward. When he was nearing his father's househe was going through a close wood. It seemed to him that the bundlewas growing heavy, and he thought he would look what was in it. 

When he loosed the bundle he was astonished. In a twinkling he seesthe very grandest place he ever saw. A great castle, and an orchardabout the castle, in which was every kind of fruit and herb. Hestood full of wonder and regret for having loosed the bundle--for itwas not in his power to put it back again--and he would have wishedthis pretty place to be in the pretty little green hollow that wasopposite his father's house; but he looked up and saw a great giantcoming towards him. 

"Bad's the place where you have built the house, king's son, " saysthe giant. 

"Yes, but it is not here I would wish it to be, though it happens tobe here by mishap, " says the king's son. 

"What's the reward for putting it back in the bundle as it wasbefore?"

"What's the reward you would ask?" says the king's son. 

"That you will give me the first son you have when he is seven yearsof age, " says the giant. 

"If I have a son you shall have him, " said the king's son. 

In a twinkling the giant put each garden, and orchard, and castle inthe bundle as they were before. 

"Now, " says the giant, "take your own road, and I will take mine;but mind your promise, and if you forget I will remember. "

The king's son took to the road, and at the end of a few days hereached the place he was fondest of. He loosed the bundle, and thecastle was just as it was before. And when he opened the castle doorhe sees the handsomest maiden he ever cast eye upon. 

"Advance, king's son, " said the pretty maid; "everything is in orderfor you, if you will marry me this very day. "

"It's I that am willing, " said the king's son. And on the same daythey married. 

But at the end of a day and seven years, who should be seen comingto the castle but the giant. The king's son was reminded of hispromise to the giant, and till now he had not told his promise tothe queen. 

"Leave the matter between me and the giant, " says the queen. 

"Turn out your son, " says the giant; "mind your promise. "

"You shall have him, " says the king, "when his mother puts him inorder for his journey. "

The queen dressed up the cook's son, and she gave him to the giantby the hand. The giant went away with him; but he had not gone farwhen he put a rod in the hand of the little laddie. The giant askedhim--

"If thy father had that rod what would he do with it?"

"If my father had that rod he would beat the dogs and the cats, sothat they shouldn't be going near the king's meat, " said the littleladdie. 

"Thou'rt the cook's son, " said the giant. He catches him by the twosmall ankles and knocks him against the stone that was beside him. The giant turned back to the castle in rage and madness, and he saidthat if they did not send out the king's son to him, the higheststone of the castle would be the lowest. 

Said the queen to the king, "We'll try it yet; the butler's son isof the same age as our son. "

She dressed up the butler's son, and she gives him to the giant bythe hand. The giant had not gone far when he put the rod in hishand. 

"If thy father had that rod, " says the giant, "what would he do withit?"

"He would beat the dogs and the cats when they would be coming nearthe king's bottles and glasses. "

"Thou art the son of the butler, " says the giant and dashed hisbrains out too. The giant returned in a very great rage and anger. The earth shook under the sole of his feet, and the castle shook andall that was in it. 

"OUT HERE WITH THY SON, " says the giant, "or in a twinkling thestone that is highest in the dwelling will be the lowest. " So theyhad to give the king's son to the giant. 

When they were gone a little bit from the earth, the giant showedhim the rod that was in his hand and said: "What would thy father dowith this rod if he had it?"

The king's son said: "My father has a braver rod than that. "

And the giant asked him, "Where is thy father when he has that braverod?"

And the king's son said: "He will be sitting in his kingly chair. "

Then the giant understood that he had the right one. 

The giant took him to his own house, and he reared him as his ownson. On a day of days when the giant was from home, the lad heardthe sweetest music he ever heard in a room at the top of the giant'shouse. At a glance he saw the finest face he had ever seen. Shebeckoned to him to come a bit nearer to her, and she said her namewas Auburn Mary but she told him to go this time, but to be sure tobe at the same place about that dead midnight. 

And as he promised he did. The giant's daughter was at his side in atwinkling, and she said, "To-morrow you will get the choice of mytwo sisters to marry; but say that you will not take either, but me. My father wants me to marry the son of the king of the Green City, but I don't like him. " On the morrow the giant took out his threedaughters, and he said:

"Now, son of the king of Tethertown, thou hast not lost by livingwith me so long. Thou wilt get to wife one of the two eldest of mydaughters, and with her leave to go home with her the day after thewedding. "

"If you will give me this pretty little one, " says the king's son, "I will take you at your word. "

The giant's wrath kindled, and he said: "Before thou gett'st herthou must do the three things that I ask thee to do. "

"Say on, " says the king's son. 

The giant took him to the byre. 

"Now, " says the giant, "a hundred cattle are stabled here, and it hasnot been cleansed for seven years. I am going from home to-day, andif this byre is not cleaned before night comes, so clean that agolden apple will run from end to end of it, not only thou shalt notget my daughter, but 'tis only a drink of thy fresh, goodly, beautiful blood that will quench my thirst this night. "

He begins cleaning the byre, but he might just as well to keepbaling the great ocean. After midday when sweat was blinding him, the giant's youngest daughter came where he was, and she said tohim:

"You are being punished, king's son. "

"I am that, " says the king's son. 

"Come over, " says Auburn Mary, "and lay down your weariness. "

"I will do that, " says he, "there is but death awaiting me, at anyrate. " He sat down near her. He was so tired that he fell asleepbeside her. When he awoke, the giant's daughter was not to be seen, but the byre was so well cleaned that a golden apple would run fromend to end of it and raise no stain. In comes the giant, and hesaid:

"Hast thou cleaned the byre, king's son?"

"I have cleaned it, " says he. 

"Somebody cleaned it, " says the giant. 

"You did not clean it, at all events, " said the king's son. 

"Well, well!" says the giant, "since thou wert so active to-day, thou wilt get to this time to-morrow to thatch this byre with birds'down, from birds with no two feathers of one colour. "

The king's son was on foot before the sun; he caught up his bow andhis quiver of arrows to kill the birds. He took to the moors, but ifhe did, the birds were not so easy to take. He was running afterthem till the sweat was blinding him. About mid-day who should comebut Auburn Mary. 

"You are exhausting yourself, king's son, " says she. 

"I am, " said he. 

"There fell but these two blackbirds, and both of one colour. "

"Come over and lay down your weariness on this pretty hillock, " saysthe giant's daughter. 

"It's I am willing, " said he. 

He thought she would aid him this time, too, and he sat down nearher, and he was not long there till he fell asleep. 

When he awoke, Auburn Mary was gone. He thought he would go back tothe house, and he sees the byre thatched with feathers. When thegiant came home, he said:

"Hast thou thatched the byre, king's son?"

"I thatched it, " says he. 

"Somebody thatched it, " says the giant. 

"You did not thatch it, " says the king's son. 

"Yes, yes!" says the giant. "Now, " says the giant, "there is a firtree beside that loch down there, and there is a magpie's nest inits top. The eggs thou wilt find in the nest. I must have them formy first meal. Not one must be burst or broken, and there are fivein the nest. "

Early in the morning the king's son went where the tree was, andthat tree was not hard to hit upon. Its match was not in the wholewood. From the foot to the first branch was five hundred feet. Theking's son was going all round the tree. She came who was alwaysbringing help to him. 

"You are losing the skin of your hands and feet. "

"Ach! I am, " says he. "I am no sooner up than down. "

"This is no time for stopping, " says the giant's daughter. "Now youmust kill me, strip the flesh from my bones, take all those bonesapart, and use them as steps for climbing the tree. When you areclimbing the tree, they will stick to the glass as if they had grownout of it; but when you are coming down, and have put your foot oneach one, they will drop into your hand when you touch them. Be sureand stand on each bone, leave none untouched; if you do, it willstay behind. Put all my flesh into this clean cloth by the side ofthe spring at the roots of the tree. When you come to the earth, arrange my bones together, put the flesh over them, sprinkle it withwater from the spring, and I shall be alive before you. But don'tforget a bone of me on the tree. "

"How could I kill you, " asked the king's son, "after what you havedone for me?"

"If you won't obey, you and I are done for, " said Auburn Mary. "Youmust climb the tree, or we are lost; and to climb the tree you mustdo as I say. " The king's son obeyed. He killed Auburn Mary, cut theflesh from her body, and unjointed the bones, as she had told him. 

As he went up, the king's son put the bones of Auburn Mary's bodyagainst the side of the tree, using them as steps, till he cameunder the nest and stood on the last bone. 

Then he took the eggs, and coming down, put his foot on every bone, then took it with him, till he came to the last bone, which was sonear the ground that he failed to touch it with his foot. 

He now placed all the bones of Auburn Mary in order again at theside of the spring, put the flesh on them, sprinkled it with waterfrom the spring. She rose up before him, and said: "Didn't I tellyou not to leave a bone of my body without stepping on it? Now I amlame for life! You left my little finger on the tree withouttouching it, and I have but nine fingers. "

"Now, " says she, "go home with the eggs quickly, and you will getme to marry to-night if you can know me. I and my two sisters willbe arrayed in the same garments, and made like each other, but lookat me when my father says, 'Go to thy wife, king's son;' and youwill see a hand without a little finger. "

He gave the eggs to the giant. 

"Yes, yes!" says the giant, "be making ready for your marriage. "

Then, indeed, there was a wedding, and it _was_ a wedding!Giants and gentlemen, and the son of the king of the Green City wasin the midst of them. They were married, and the dancing began, thatwas a dance! The giant's house was shaking from top to bottom. 

But bed time came, and the giant said, "It is time for thee to go torest, son of the king of Tethertown; choose thy bride to take withthee from amidst those. "

She put out the hand off which the little finger was, and he caughther by the hand. 

"Thou hast aimed well this time too; but there is no knowing but wemay meet thee another way, " said the giant. 

But to rest they went. "Now, " says she, "sleep not, or else you area dead man. We must fly quick, quick, or for certain my father willkill you. "

Out they went, and on the blue grey filly in the stable theymounted. "Stop a while, " says she, "and I will play a trick to theold hero. " She jumped in, and cut an apple into nine shares, and sheput two shares at the head of the bed, and two shares at the foot ofthe bed, and two shares at the door of the kitchen, and two sharesat the big door, and one outside the house. 

The giant awoke and called, "Are you asleep?"

"Not yet, " said the apple that was at the head of the bed. 

At the end of a while he called again. 

"Not yet, " said the apple that was at the foot of the bed. 

A while after this he called again: "Are your asleep?"

"Not yet, " said the apple at the kitchen door. 

The giant called again. 

The apple that was at the big door answered. 

"You are now going far from me, " says the giant. 

"Not yet, " says the apple that was outside the house. 

"You are flying, " says the giant. The giant jumped on his feet, andto the bed he went, but it was cold--empty. 

"My own daughter's tricks are trying me, " said the giant. "Here'safter them, " says he. 

At the mouth of day, the giant's daughter said that her father'sbreath was burning her back. 

"Put your hand, quick, " said she, "in the ear of the grey filly, andwhatever you find in it, throw it behind us. "

"There is a twig of sloe tree, " said he. 

"Throw it behind us, " said she. 

No sooner did he that, than there were twenty miles of blackthornwood, so thick that scarce a weasel could go through it. 

The giant came headlong, and there he is fleecing his head and neckin the thorns. 

"My own daughter's tricks are here as before, " said the giant; "butif I had my own big axe and wood knife here, I would not be longmaking a way through this. "

He went home for the big axe and the wood knife, and sure he was notlong on his journey, and he was the boy behind the big axe. He wasnot long making a way through the blackthorn. 

"I will leave the axe and the wood knife here till I return, " sayshe. 

"If you leave 'em, leave 'em, " said a hoodie that was in a tree, "we'll steal 'em, steal 'em. "

"If you will do that, " says the giant, "I must take them home. " Hereturned home and left them at the house. 

At the heat of day the giant's daughter felt her father's breathburning her back. 

"Put your finger in the filly's ear, and throw behind whatever youfind in it. "

He got a splinter of grey stone, and in a twinkling there weretwenty miles, by breadth and height, of great grey rock behind them. 

The giant came full pelt, but past the rock he could not go. 

"The tricks of my own daughter are the hardest things that ever metme, " says the giant; "but if I had my lever and my mighty mattock, Iwould not be long in making my way through this rock also. "

There was no help for it, but to turn the chase for them; and he wasthe boy to split the stones. He was not long in making a roadthrough the rock. 

"I will leave the tools here, and I will return no more. "

"If you leave 'em, leave 'em, " says the hoodie, "we will steal 'em, steal 'em. "

"Do that if you will; there is no time to go back. "

At the time of breaking the watch, the giant's daughter said thatshe felt her father's breath burning her back. 

"Look in the filly's ear, king's son, or else we are lost. "

He did so, and it was a bladder of water that was in her ear thistime. He threw it behind him and there was a fresh-water loch, twenty miles in length and breadth, behind them. 

The giant came on, but with the speed he had on him, he was in themiddle of the loch, and he went under, and he rose no more. 

On the next day the young companions were come in sight of hisfather's house. "Now, " says she, "my father is drowned, and he won'ttrouble us any more; but before we go further, " says she, "go you toyour father's house, and tell that you have the likes of me; but letneither man nor creature kiss you, for if you do, you will notremember that you have ever seen me. "

Every one he met gave him welcome and luck, and he charged hisfather and mother not to kiss him; but as mishap was to be, an oldgreyhound was indoors, and she knew him, and jumped up to his mouth, and after that he did not remember the giant's daughter. 

She was sitting at the well's side as he left her, but the king'sson was not coming. In the mouth of night she climbed up into a treeof oak that was beside the well, and she lay in the fork of thattree all night. A shoemaker had a house near the well, and aboutmid-day on the morrow, the shoemaker asked his wife to go for adrink for him out of the well. When the shoemaker's wife reached thewell, and when she saw the shadow of her that was in the tree, thinking it was her own shadow--and she never thought till now thatshe was so handsome--she gave a cast to the dish that was in herhand, and it was broken on the ground, and she took herself to thehouse without vessel or water. 

"Where is the water, wife?" said the shoemaker. 

"You shambling, contemptible old carle, without grace, I have stayedtoo long your water and wood thrall. "

"I think, wife, that you have turned crazy. Go you, daughter, quickly, and fetch a drink for your father. "

His daughter went, and in the same way so it happened to her. Shenever thought till now that she was so lovable, and she took herselfhome. 

"Up with the drink, " said her father. 

"You home-spun shoe carle, do you think I am fit to be your thrall?"

The poor shoemaker thought that they had taken a turn in theirunderstandings, and he went himself to the well. He saw the shadowof the maiden in the well, and he looked up to the tree, and he seesthe finest woman he ever saw. 

"Your seat is wavering, but your face is fair, " said the shoemaker. "Come down, for there is need of you for a short while at my house. "

The shoemaker understood that this was the shadow that had drivenhis people mad. The shoemaker took her to his house, and he saidthat he had but a poor bothy, but that she should get a share of allthat was in it. 

One day, the shoemaker had shoes ready, for on that very day theking's son was to be married. The shoemaker was going to the castlewith the shoes of the young people, and the girl said to theshoemaker, "I would like to get a sight of the king's son before hemarries. "

"Come with me, " says the shoemaker, "I am well acquainted with theservants at the castle, and you shall get a sight of the king's sonand all the company. "

And when the gentles saw the pretty woman that was here they tookher to the wedding-room, and they filled for her a glass of wine. When she was going to drink what is in it, a flame went up out ofthe glass, and a golden pigeon and a silver pigeon sprang out of it. They were flying about when three grains of barley fell on thefloor. The silver pigeon sprung, and ate that up. 

Said the golden pigeon to him, "If you remembered when I cleared thebyre, you would not eat that without giving me a share. "

Again there fell three other grains of barley, and the silver pigeonsprung, and ate that up as before. 

"If you remembered when I thatched the byre, you would not eat thatwithout giving me my share, " says the golden pigeon. 

Three other grains fall, and the silver pigeon sprung, and ate thatup. 

"If you remembered when I harried the magpie's nest, you would noteat that without giving me my share, " says the golden pigeon; "Ilost my little finger bringing it down, and I want it still. "

The king's son minded, and he knew who it was that was before him. 

"Well, " said the king's son to the guests at the feast, "when I wasa little younger than I am now, I lost the key of a casket that Ihad. I had a new key made, but after it was brought to me I foundthe old one. Now, I'll leave it to any one here to tell me what I amto do. Which of the keys should I keep?"

"My advice to you, " said one of the guests, "is to keep the old key, for it fits the lock better and you're more used to it. "

Then the king's son stood up and said: "I thank you for a wiseadvice and an honest word. This is my bride the daughter of thegiant who saved my life at the risk of her own. I'll have her and noother woman. "

So the king's son married Auburn Mary and the wedding lasted longand all were happy. But all I got was butter on a live coal, porridge in a basket, and they sent me for water to the stream, andthe paper shoes came to an end. 

BREWERY OF EGGSHELLS

In Treneglwys there is a certain shepherd's cot known by the name ofTwt y Cymrws because of the strange strife that occurred there. There once lived there a man and his wife, and they had twins whomthe woman nursed tenderly. One day she was called away to the houseof a neighbour at some distance. She did not much like going andleaving her little ones all alone in a solitary house, especially asshe had heard tell of the good folk haunting the neighbourhood. 

Well, she went and came back as soon as she could, but on her wayback she was frightened to see some old elves of the blue petticoatcrossing her path though it was midday. She rushed home, but foundher two little ones in the cradle and everything seemed as it wasbefore. 

But after a time the good people began to suspect that something waswrong, for the twins didn't grow at all. 

The man said: "They're not ours. "

The woman said: "Whose else should they be?"

And so arose the great strife so that the neighbours named thecottage after it. It made the woman very sad, so one evening shemade up her mind to go and see the Wise Man of Llanidloes, for heknew everything and would advise her what to do. 

So she went to Llanidloes and told the case to the Wise Man. Nowthere was soon to be a harvest of rye and oats, so the Wise Man saidto her, "When you are getting dinner for the reapers, clear out theshell of a hen's egg and boil some potage in it, and then take it tothe door as if you meant it as a dinner for the reapers. Then listenif the twins say anything. If you hear them speaking of thingsbeyond the understanding of children, go back and take them up andthrow them into the waters of Lake Elvyn. But if you don't hearanything remarkable, do them no injury. "

So when the day of the reap came the woman did all that the Wise Manordered, and put the eggshell on the fire and took it off andcarried it to the door, and there she stood and listened. Then sheheard one of the children say to the other:

 Acorn before oak I knew, An egg before a hen, But I never heard of an eggshell brew A dinner for harvest men. 

So she went back into the house, seized the children and threw theminto the Llyn, and the goblins in their blue trousers came and savedtheir dwarfs and the mother had her own children back and so thegreat strife ended. 

THE LAD WITH THE GOAT-SKIN

Long ago, a poor widow woman lived down near the iron forge, byEnniscorth, and she was so poor she had no clothes to put on herson; so she used to fix him in the ash-hole, near the fire, and pilethe warm ashes about him; and according as he grew up, she sunk thepit deeper. At last, by hook or by crook, she got a goat-skin, andfastened it round his waist, and he felt quite grand, and took awalk down the street. So says she to him next morning, "Tom, youthief, you never done any good yet, and you six foot high, and pastnineteen;--take that rope and bring me a faggot from the wood. "

"Never say't twice, mother, " says Tom--"here goes. "

When he had it gathered and tied, what should come up but a biggiant, nine foot high, and made a lick of a club at him. Well becomeTom, he jumped a-one side, and picked up a ram-pike; and the firstcrack he gave the big fellow, he made him kiss the clod. 

"If you have e'er a prayer, " says Tom, "now's the time to say it, before I make fragments of you. "

"I have no prayers, " says the giant; "but if you spare my life I'llgive you that club; and as long as you keep from sin, you'll winevery battle you ever fight with it. "

Tom made no bones about letting him off; and as soon as he got theclub in his hands, he sat down on the bresna, and gave it a tap withthe kippeen, and says, "Faggot, I had great trouble gathering you, and run the risk of my life for you, the least you can do is tocarry me home. " And sure enough, the wind o' the word was all itwanted. It went off through the wood, groaning and crackling, tillit came to the widow's door. 

Well, when the sticks were all burned, Tom was sent off again topick more; and this time he had to fight with a giant that had twoheads on him. Tom had a little more trouble with him--that's all;and the prayers he said, was to give Tom a fife; that nobody couldhelp dancing when he was playing it. Begonies, he made the bigfaggot dance home, with himself sitting on it. The next giant was abeautiful boy with three heads on him. He had neither prayers norcatechism no more nor the others; and so he gave Tom a bottle ofgreen ointment, that wouldn't let you be burned, nor scalded, norwounded. "And now, " says he, "there's no more of us. You may comeand gather sticks here till little Lunacy Day in Harvest, withoutgiant or fairy-man to disturb you. "

Well, now, Tom was prouder nor ten paycocks, and used to take a walkdown street in the heel of the evening; but some o' the little boyshad no more manners than if they were Dublin jackeens, and put outtheir tongues at Tom's club and Tom's goat-skin. He didn't like thatat all, and it would be mean to give one of them a clout. At last, what should come through the town but a kind of a bellman, only it'sa big bugle he had, and a huntsman's cap on his head, and a kind ofa painted shirt. So this--he wasn't a bellman, and I don't know whatto call him--bugleman, maybe, proclaimed that the King of Dublin'sdaughter was so melancholy that she didn't give a laugh for sevenyears, and that her father would grant her in marriage to whoevercould make her laugh three times. 

"That's the very thing for me to try, " says Tom; and so, withoutburning any more daylight, he kissed his mother, curled his club atthe little boys, and off he set along the yalla highroad to the townof Dublin. 

At last Tom came to one of the city gates, and the guards laughedand cursed at him instead of letting him in. Tom stood it all for alittle time, but at last one of them--out of fun, as he said--drovehis bayonet half an inch or so into his side. Tom done nothing buttake the fellow by the scruff o' the neck and the waistband of hiscorduroys, and fling him into the canal. Some run to pull the fellowout, and others to let manners into the vulgarian with their swordsand daggers; but a tap from his club sent them headlong into themoat or down on the stones, and they were soon begging him to stayhis hands. 

So at last one of them was glad enough to show Tom the way to thepalace-yard; and there was the king, and the queen, and theprincess, in a gallery, looking at all sorts of wrestling, andsword-playing, and long-dances, and mumming, all to please theprincess; but not a smile came over her handsome face. 

Well, they all stopped when they seen the young giant, with hisboy's face, and long black hair, and his short curly beard--for hispoor mother couldn't afford to buy razors--and his great strongarms, and bare legs, and no covering but the goat-skin that reachedfrom his waist to his knees. But an envious wizened bit of a fellow, with a red head, that wished to be married to the princess, anddidn't like how she opened her eyes at Tom, came forward, and askedhis business very snappishly. 

"My business, " says Tom, says he, "is to make the beautifulprincess, God bless her, laugh three times. "

"Do you see all them merry fellows and skilful swordsmen, " says theother, "that could eat you up with a grain of salt, and not amother's soul of 'em ever got a laugh from her these seven years?"

So the fellows gathered round Tom, and the bad man aggravated himtill he told them he didn't care a pinch o' snuff for the wholebilin' of 'em; let 'em come on, six at a time, and try what theycould do. 

The king, who was too far off to hear what they were saying, askedwhat did the stranger want. 

"He wants, " says the red-headed fellow, "to make hares of your bestmen. "

"Oh!" says the king, "if that's the way, let one of 'em turn out andtry his mettle. "

So one stood forward, with sword and pot-lid, and made a cut at Tom. He struck the fellow's elbow with the club, and up over their headsflew the sword, and down went the owner of it on the gravel from athump he got on the helmet. Another took his place, and another, andanother, and then half a dozen at once, and Tom sent swords, helmets, shields, and bodies, rolling over and over, and themselvesbawling out that they were kilt, and disabled, and damaged, andrubbing their poor elbows and hips, and limping away. Tom contrivednot to kill any one; and the princess was so amused, that she let agreat sweet laugh out of her that was heard over all the yard. 

"King of Dublin, " says Tom, "I've quarter your daughter. "

And the king didn't know whether he was glad or sorry, and all theblood in the princess's heart run into her cheeks. 

So there was no more fighting that day, and Tom was invited to dinewith the royal family. Next day, Redhead told Tom of a wolf, thesize of a yearling heifer, that used to be serenading about thewalls, and eating people and cattle; and said what a pleasure itwould give the king to have it killed. 

"With all my heart, " says Tom; "send a jackeen to show me where helives, and we'll see how he behaves to a stranger. "

The princess was not well pleased, for Tom looked a different personwith fine clothes and a nice green birredh over his long curly hair;and besides, he'd got one laugh out of her. However, the king gavehis consent; and in an hour and a half the horrible wolf was walkinginto the palace-yard, and Tom a step or two behind, with his club onhis shoulder, just as a shepherd would be walking after a pet lamb. 

The king and queen and princess were safe up in their gallery, butthe officers and people of the court that wor padrowling about thegreat bawn, when they saw the big baste coming in, gave themselvesup, and began to make for doors and gates; and the wolf licked hischops, as if he was saying, "Wouldn't I enjoy a breakfast off acouple of yez!"

The king shouted out, "O Tom with the Goat-skin, take away thatterrible wolf, and you must have all my daughter. "

But Tom didn't mind him a bit. He pulled out his flute and began toplay like vengeance; and dickens a man or boy in the yard but beganshovelling away heel and toe, and the wolf himself was obliged toget on his hind legs and dance "Tatther Jack Walsh, " along with therest. A good deal of the people got inside, and shut the doors, theway the hairy fellow wouldn't pin them; but Tom kept playing, andthe outsiders kept dancing and shouting, and the wolf kept dancingand roaring with the pain his legs were giving him; and all the timehe had his eyes on Redhead, who was shut out along with the rest. Wherever Redhead went, the wolf followed, and kept one eye on himand the other on Tom, to see if he would give him leave to eat him. But Tom shook his head, and never stopped the tune, and Redheadnever stopped dancing and bawling, and the wolf dancing and roaring, one leg up and the other down, and he ready to drop out of hisstanding from fair tiresomeness. 

When the princess seen that there was no fear of any one being kilt, she was so divarted by the stew that Redhead was in, that she gaveanother great laugh; and well become Tom, out he cried, "King ofDublin, I have two halves of your daughter. "

"Oh, halves or alls, " says the king, "put away that divel of a wolf, and we'll see about it. "

So Tom put his flute in his pocket, and says he to the baste thatwas sittin' on his currabingo ready to faint, "Walk off to yourmountain, my fine fellow, and live like a respectable baste; and ifever I find you come within seven miles of any town, I'll--"

He said no more, but spit in his fist, and gave a flourish of hisclub. It was all the poor divel of a wolf wanted: he put his tailbetween his legs, and took to his pumps without looking at man ormortal, and neither sun, moon, or stars ever saw him in sight ofDublin again. 

At dinner every one laughed but the foxy fellow; and sure enough hewas laying out how he'd settle poor Tom next day. 

"Well, to be sure!" says he, "King of Dublin, you are in luck. There's the Danes moidhering us to no end. Deuce run to Lusk wid'em! and if any one can save us from 'em, it is this gentleman withthe goat-skin. There is a flail hangin' on the collar-beam, in hell, and neither Dane nor devil can stand before it. "

"So, " says Tom to the king, "will you let me have the other half ofthe princess if I bring you the flail?"

"No, no, " says the princess; "I'd rather never be your wife than seeyou in that danger. "

But Redhead whispered and nudged Tom about how shabby it would lookto reneague the adventure. So he asked which way he was to go, andRedhead directed him. 

Well, he travelled and travelled, till he came in sight of the wallsof hell; and, bedad, before he knocked at the gates, he rubbedhimself over with the greenish ointment. When he knocked, a hundredlittle imps popped their heads out through the bars, and axed himwhat he wanted. 

"I want to speak to the big divel of all, " says Tom: "open thegate. "

It wasn't long till the gate was thrune open, and the Ould Boyreceived Tom with bows and scrapes, and axed his business. 

"My business isn't much, " says Tom. "I only came for the loan ofthat flail that I see hanging on the collar-beam, for the king ofDublin to give a thrashing to the Danes. "

"Well, " says the other, "the Danes is much better customers to me;but since you walked so far I won't refuse. Hand that flail, " sayshe to a young imp; and he winked the far-off eye at the same time. So, while some were barring the gates, the young devil climbed up, and took down the flail that had the handstaff and booltheen bothmade out of red-hot iron. The little vagabond was grinning to thinkhow it would burn the hands o' Tom, but the dickens a burn it madeon him, no more nor if it was a good oak sapling. 

"Thankee, " says Tom. "Now would you open the gate for a body, andI'll give you no more trouble. "

"Oh, tramp!" says Ould Nick; "is that the way? It is easier gettinginside them gates than getting out again. Take that tool from him, and give him a dose of the oil of stirrup. "

So one fellow put out his claws to seize on the flail, but Tom gavehim such a welt of it on the side of the head that he broke off oneof his horns, and made him roar like a devil as he was. Well, theyrushed at Tom, but he gave them, little and big, such a thrashing asthey didn't forget for a while. At last says the ould thief of all, rubbing his elbow, "Let the fool out; and woe to whoever lets him inagain, great or small. "

So out marched Tom, and away with him, without minding the shoutingand cursing they kept up at him from the tops of the walls; and whenhe got home to the big bawn of the palace, there never was suchrunning and racing as to see himself and the flail. When he had hisstory told, he laid down the flail on the stone steps, and bid noone for their lives to touch it. If the king, and queen, andprincess, made much of him before, they made ten times more of himnow; but Redhead, the mean scruff-hound, stole over, and thought tocatch hold of the flail to make an end of him. His fingers hardlytouched it, when he let a roar out of him as if heaven and earthwere coming together, and kept flinging his arms about and dancing, that it was pitiful to look at him. Tom run at him as soon as hecould rise, caught his hands in his own two, and rubbed them thisway and that, and the burning pain left them before you could reckonone. Well the poor fellow, between the pain that was only just gone, and the comfort he was in, had the comicalest face that you eversee, it was such a mixtherum-gatherum of laughing and crying. Everybody burst out a laughing--the princess could not stop no morethan the rest; and then says Tom, "Now, ma'am, if there were fiftyhalves of you, I hope you'll give me them all. "

Well, the princess looked at her father, and by my word, she cameover to Tom, and put her two delicate hands into his two rough ones, and I wish it was myself was in his shoes that day!

Tom would not bring the flail into the palace. You may be sure noother body went near it; and when the early risers were passing nextmorning, they found two long clefts in the stone, where it was afterburning itself an opening downwards, nobody could tell how far. Buta messenger came in at noon, and said that the Danes were sofrightened when they heard of the flail coming into Dublin, thatthey got into their ships, and sailed away. 

Well, I suppose, before they were married, Tom got some man, likePat Mara of Tomenine, to learn him the "principles of politeness, "fluxions, gunnery, and fortification, decimal fractions, practice, and the rule of three direct, the way he'd be able to keep up aconversation with the royal family. Whether he ever lost his timelearning them sciences, I'm not sure, but it's as sure as fate thathis mother never more saw any want till the end of her days. 

MAN OR WOMAN BOY OR GIRL THAT READS WHAT FOLLOWS 3 TIMES SHALL FALLASLEEP AN HUNDRED YEARS

JOHN D. BATTEN DREW THIS AUG. 20TH, 1801 GOOD-NIGHT

NOTES AND REFERENCES

It may be as well to give the reader some account of the enormousextent of the Celtic folk-tales in existence. I reckon these toextend to 2000, though only about 250 are in print. The formernumber exceeds that known in France, Italy, Germany, and Russia, where collection has been most active, and is only exceeded by theMS. Collection of Finnish folk-tales at Helsingfors, said to exceed12, 000. As will be seen, this superiority of the Celts is due to thephenomenal and patriotic activity of one man, the late J. F. Campbell, of Islay, whose _Popular Tales_ and MS. Collections(partly described by Mr. Alfred Nutt in _Folk-Lore_, i. 369-83)contain references to no less than 1281 tales (many of them, ofcourse, variants and scraps). Celtic folk-tales, while morenumerous, are also the oldest of the tales of modern European races;some of them--_e. G. _, "Connla, " in the present selection, occurring in the oldest Irish vellums. They include (1) fairy talesproperly so-called--_i. E. _, tales or anecdotes _about_ fairies, hobgoblins, &c. , told as natural occurrences; (2) hero-tales, storiesof adventure told of national or mythical heroes; (3) folk-tales proper, describing marvellous adventures of otherwise unknown heroes, in which there is a defined plot and supernatural characters(speaking animals, giants, dwarfs, &c. ); and finally (4) drolls, comicanecdotes of feats of stupidity or cunning. 

The collection of Celtic folk-tales began in IRELAND as early as1825, with T. Crofton Croker's _Fairy Legends and Traditions ofthe South of Ireland_. This contained some 38 anecdotes of thefirst class mentioned above, anecdotes showing the belief of theIrish peasantry in the existence of fairies, gnomes, goblins, andthe like. The Grimms did Croker the honour of translating part ofhis book, under the title of _Irische Elfenmärchen_. Among thenovelists and tale-writers of the schools of Miss Edgeworth andLever folk-tales were occasionally utilised, as by Carleton in his_Traits and Stories_, by S. Lover in his _Legends and Stories_, and by G. Griffin in his _Tales of a Jury-Room_. These all tell their talesin the manner of the stage Irishman. Chapbooks, _Royal Fairy Tales_and _Hibernian Tales_, also contained genuine folk-tales, and attractedThackeray's attention in his _Irish Sketch-Book_. The Irish Grimm, however, was Patrick Kennedy, a Dublin bookseller, who believed infairies, and in five years (1866- 71) printed about 100 folk- and hero-tales and drolls (classes 2, 3, and 4 above) in his _Legendary Fictionsof the Irish Celts_, 1866, _Fireside Stories of Ireland_, 1870, and _BardicStories of Ireland_, 1871; all three are now unfortunately out of print. Hetells his stories neatly and with spirit, and retains much that is_volkstümlich_ in his diction. He derived his materials from theEnglish-speaking peasantry of county Wexford, who changed fromGaelic to English while story-telling was in full vigour, and thereforecarried over the stories with the change of language. Lady Wyldehas told many folk-tales very effectively in her _Ancient Legends ofIreland_, 1887. More recently two collectors have published storiesgathered from peasants of the West and North who can only speakGaelic. These are by an American gentleman named Curtin, _Mythsand Folk-Tales of Ireland_, 1890; while Dr. Douglas Hyde haspublished in _Beside the Fireside_, 1891, spirited English versions ofsome of the stories he had published in the original Irish in his _LeabharSgeulaighteachta_, Dublin, 1889. Miss Maclintoch has a large MS. Collection, part of which has appeared in various periodicals; andMessrs. Larminie and D. Fitzgerald are known to have much storymaterial in their possession. 

But beside these more modern collections there exist in old andmiddle Irish a large number of hero-tales (class 2) which formedthe staple of the old _ollahms_ or bards. Of these tales of"cattle-liftings, elopements, battles, voyages, courtships, caves, lakes, feasts, sieges, and eruptions, " a bard of even the fourthclass had to know seven fifties, presumably one for each day of theyear. Sir William Temple knew of a north-country gentleman ofIreland who was sent to sleep every evening with a fresh talefrom his bard. The _Book of Leinster_, an Irish vellum of thetwelfth century, contains a list of 189 of these hero-tales, many ofwhich are extant to this day; E. O'Curry gives the list in theAppendix to his MS. _Materials of Irish History_. Another listof about 70 is given in the preface to the third volume of theOssianic Society's publications. Dr. Joyce published a few of themore celebrated of these in _Old Celtic Romances_; othersappeared in _Atlantis_ (see notes on "Deirdre"), others inKennedy's _Bardic Stories_, mentioned above. 

Turning to SCOTLAND, we must put aside Chambers' _Popular Rhymesof Scotland_, 1842, which contains for the most part folk-talescommon with those of England rather than those peculiar to theGaelic-speaking Scots. The first name here in time as in importanceis that of J. F. Campbell, of Islay. His four volumes, _PopularTales of the West Highlands_ (Edinburgh, 1860-2, recentlyrepublished by the Islay Association), contain some 120 folk- andhero-tales, told with strict adherence to the language of thenarrators, which is given with a literal, a rather too literal, English version. This careful accuracy has given an un-English airto his versions, and has prevented them attaining their duepopularity. What Campbell has published represents only a tithe ofwhat he collected. At the end of the fourth volume he gives a listof 791 tales, &c. , collected by him or his assistants in the twoyears 1859-61; and in his MS. Collections at Edinburgh are two otherlists containing 400 more tales. Only a portion of these are in theAdvocates' Library; the rest, if extant, must be in private hands, though they are distinctly of national importance and interest. 

Campbell's influence has been effective of recent years in Scotland. The _Celtic Magazine_ (vols. Xii. And xiii. ), while under theeditorship of Mr. MacBain, contained several folk- and hero-tales inGaelic, and so did the _Scotch Celtic Review_. These were fromthe collections of Messrs. Campbell of Tiree, Carmichael, and K. Mackenzie. Recently Lord Archibald Campbell has shown laudableinterest in the preservation of Gaelic folk- and hero-tales. Underhis auspices a whole series of handsome volumes, under the generaltitle of _Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition_, has beenrecently published, four volumes having already appeared, eachaccompanied by notes by Mr. Alfred Nutt, which form the mostimportant aid to the study of Celtic Folk-Tales since Campbellhimself. Those to the second volume in particular (Tales collectedby Rev. D. MacInnes) fill 100 pages, with condensed information onall aspects of the subject dealt with in the light of the mostrecent research in the European folk-tales as well as on Celticliterature. Thanks to Mr. Nutt, Scotland is just now to the fore inthe collection and study of the British Folk-Tale. 

WALES makes a poor show beside Ireland and Scotland. Sikes'_British Goblins_, and the tales collected by Prof. Rhys in_Y Cymrodor_, vols. Ii. -vi. , are mainly of our first-classfairy anecdotes. Borrow, in his _Wild Wales_, refers to acollection of fables in a journal called _The Greal_, while the_Cambrian Quarterly Magazine_ for 1830 and 1831 contained a fewfairy anecdotes, including a curious version of the "Brewery ofEggshells" from the Welsh. In the older literature, the _IoloMS. _, published by the Welsh MS. Society, has a few fables andapologues, and the charming _Mabinogion_, translated by LadyGuest, has tales that can trace back to the twelfth century and areon the border-line between folk-tales and hero-tales. 

CORNWALL and MAN are even worse than Wales. Hunt's _Drolls fromthe West of England_ has nothing distinctively Celtic, and it isonly by a chance Lhuyd chose a folk-tale as his specimen of Cornishin his _Archaeologia Britannica_, 1709 (see _Tale of Ivan_). The Manx folk-tales published, including the most recent by Mr. Moore, in his _Folk-Lore of the Isle of Man_, 1891, are mainly fairyanecdotes and legends. 

From this survey of the field of Celtic folk-tales it is clear thatIreland and Scotland provide the lion's share. The interesting thingto notice is the remarkable similarity of Scotch and Irish folk-tales. The continuity of language and culture between these twodivisions of Gaeldom has clearly brought about this identity oftheir folk-tales. As will be seen from the following notes, thetales found in Scotland can almost invariably be paralleled by thosefound in Ireland, and _vice versa_. This result is a strikingconfirmation of the general truth that folk-lores of differentcountries resemble one another in proportion to their contiguity andto the continuity of language and culture between them. 

Another point of interest in these Celtic folk-tales is the lightthey throw upon the relation of hero-tales and folk-tales (classes 2and 3 above). Tales told of Finn of Cuchulain, and therefore comingunder the definition of hero-tales, are found elsewhere told ofanonymous or unknown heroes. The question is, were the folk-talesthe earliest, and were they localised and applied to the heroes, orwere the heroic sagas generalised and applied to an unknown [Greek:tis]? All the evidence, in my opinion, inclines to the former view, which, as applied to Celtic folk-tales, is of very great literaryimportance; for it is becoming more and more recognised, thankschiefly to the admirable work of Mr. Alfred Nutt, in his _Studieson the Holy Grail_, that the outburst of European Romance in thetwelfth century was due, in large measure, to an infusion of Celtichero-tales into the literature of the Romance-speaking nations. Nowthe remarkable thing is, how these hero tales have lingered on inoral tradition even to the present day. (See a marked case in"Deirdre. ") We may, therefore, hope to see considerable light thrownon the most characteristic spiritual product of the Middle Ages, theliterature of Romance and the spirit of chivalry, from the Celticfolk-tales of the present day. Mr. Alfred Nutt has already shownthis to be true of a special section of Romance literature, thatconnected with the Holy Grail, and it seems probable that furtherstudy will extend the field of application of this new method ofresearch. 

The Celtic folk-tale again has interest in retaining many traits ofprimitive conditions among the early inhabitants of these isleswhich are preserved by no other record. Take, for instance, the calmassumption of polygamy in "Gold Tree and Silver Tree. " Thatrepresents a state of feeling that is decidedly pre-Christian. Thebelief in an external soul "Life Index, " recently monographed by Mr. Frazer in his "Golden Bough, " also finds expression in a couple ofthe Tales (see notes on "Sea-Maiden" and "Fair, Brown, andTrembling"), and so with many other primitive ideas. 

Care, however, has to be taken in using folk-tales as evidence forprimitive practice among the nations where they are found. For thetales may have come from another race--that is, for example, probably the case with "Gold Tree and Silver Tree" (see Notes). Celtic tales are of peculiar interest in this connection, as theyafford one of the best fields for studying the problem of diffusion, the most pressing of the problems of the folk-tales just at present, at least in my opinion. The Celts are at the furthermost end ofEurope. Tales that travelled to them could go no further and musttherefore be the last links in the chain. 

For all these reasons, then, Celtic folk-tales are of highscientific interest to the folk-lorist, while they yield to none inimaginative and literary qualities. In any other country of Europesome national means of recording them would have long ago beenadopted. M. Luzel, _e. G. _, was commissioned by the FrenchMinister of Public Instruction to collect and report on the Bretonfolk-tales. England, here as elsewhere without any organised meansof scientific research in the historical and philological sciences, has to depend on the enthusiasm of a few private individuals forwork of national importance. Every Celt of these islands or in theGaeldom beyond the sea, and every Celt-lover among the English-speaking nations, should regard it as one of the duties of the raceto put its traditions on record in the few years that now remainbefore they will cease for ever to be living in the hearts andmemories of the humbler members of the race. 

In the following Notes I have done as in my _English FairyTales_, and given first, the _sources_ whence I drew the tales, then _parallels_ at length for the British Isles, with bibliographicalreferences for parallels abroad, and finally, _remarks_ where thetales seemed to need them. In these I have not wearied or worriedthe reader with conventional tall talk about the Celtic genius and itsmanifestations in the folk-tale; on that topic one can only repeatMatthew Arnold when at his best, in his _Celtic Literature_. Nor haveI attempted to deal with the more general aspects of the study ofthe Celtic folk-tale. For these I must refer to Mr. Nutt's series ofpapers in _The Celtic Magazine_, vol. Xii. , or, still better, to themasterly introductions he is contributing to the series of _Waifs andStrays of Celtic Tradition_, and to Dr. Hyde's _Beside theFireside_. In my remarks I have mainly confined myself todiscussing the origin and diffusion of the various tales, so far asanything definite could be learnt or conjectured on that subject. 

Before proceeding to the Notes, I may "put in, " as the lawyers say, a few summaries of the results reached in them. Of the twenty-sixtales, twelve (i. , ii. , v. , viii. , ix. , x. , xi. , xv. , xvi. , xvii. , xix. , xxiv. ) have Gaelic originals; three (vii. , xiii. , xxv. ) arefrom the Welsh; one (xxii. ) from the now extinct Cornish; one anadaptation of an English poem founded on a Welsh tradition (xxi. , "Gellert"); and the remaining nine are what may be termed Anglo-Irish. Regarding their diffusion among the Celts, twelve are bothIrish and Scotch (iv. , v. , vi. , ix. , x. , xiv. -xvii. , xix. , xx. , xxiv); one (xxv. ) is common to Irish and Welsh; and one (xxii. ) toIrish and Cornish; seven are found only among the Celts in Ireland(i. -iii. , xii. , xviii. , xxii. , xxvi); two (viii. , xi. ) among theScotch; and three (vii. , xiii. , xxi. ) among the Welsh. Finally, sofar as we can ascertain their origin, four (v. , xvi. , xxi. , xxii. )are from the East; five (vi. , x. , xiv. , xx. , xxv. ) are Europeandrolls; three of the romantic tales seem to have been imported(vii. , ix. , xix. ); while three others are possibly Celticexportations to the Continent (xv. , xvii. , xxiv. ) though the, lastmay have previously come thence; the remaining eleven are, as far asknown, original to Celtic lands. Somewhat the same result would comeout, I believe, as the analysis of any representative collection offolk-tales of any European district. 

I. CONNLA AND THE FAIRY MAIDEN. 

_Source_. --From the old Irish "Echtra Condla chaim maic CuindChetchathaig" of the _Leabhar na h-Uidhre_ ("Book of the DunCow"), which must have been written before 1106, when its scribeMaelmori ("Servant of Mary") was murdered. The original is given byWindisch in his _Irish Grammar_, p. 120, also in the _Trans. Kilkenny Archaeol. Soc. _ for 1874. A fragment occurs in aRawlinson MS. , described by Dr. W. Stokes, _Tripartite Life_, p. Xxxvi. I have used the translation of Prof. Zimmer in his_Keltische Beiträge_, ii. (_Zeits. F. Deutsches Altertum_, Bd. Xxxiii. 262-4). Dr. Joyce has a somewhat florid version in, his_Old Celtic Romances_, from which I have borrowed a touch ortwo. I have neither extenuated nor added aught but the last sentenceof the Fairy Maiden's last speech. Part of the original is inmetrical form, so that the whole is of the _cante-fable_ specieswhich I believe to be the original form of the folk-tale (Cf. _Eng. FairyTales_, notes, p. 240, and _infra_, p. 257). 

_Parallels_. --Prof. Zimmer's paper contains three otheraccounts of the _terra repromissionis_ in the Irish sagas, oneof them being the similar adventure of Cormac the nephew of Connla, or Condla Ruad as he should be called. The fairy apple of goldoccurs in Cormac Mac Art's visit to the Brug of Manannan (Nutt's_Holy Grail_, 193). 

_Remarks_. --Conn the hundred-fighter had the head-kingship ofIreland 123-157 A. D. , according to the _Annals of the FourMasters_, i. 105. On the day of his birth the five great roadsfrom Tara to all parts of Ireland were completed: one of them fromDublin is still used. Connaught is said to have been named afterhim, but this is scarcely consonant with Joyce's identification withPtolemy's _Nagnatai_ (_Irish Local Names_, i. 75). But therecan be little doubt of Conn's existence as a powerful ruler inIreland in the second century. The historic existence of Connlaseems also to be authenticated by the reference to him as Conly, theeldest son of Conn, in the Annals of Clonmacnoise. As Conn wassucceeded by his third son, Art Enear, Connla was either slain ordisappeared during his father's lifetime. Under these circumstancesit is not unlikely that our legend grew up within the century afterConn--_i. E. _, during the latter half of the second century. 

As regards the present form of it, Prof. Zimmer (_l. C. _ 261-2)places it in the seventh century. It has clearly been touched up bya Christian hand who introduced the reference to the day of judgmentand to the waning power of the Druids. But nothing turns upon thisinterpolation, so that it is likely that even the present form ofthe legend is pre-Christian-_i. E. _ for Ireland, pre-Patrician, before the fifth century. 

The tale of Connla is thus the earliest fairy tale of modern Europe. Besides this interest it contains an early account of one of themost characteristic Celtic conceptions, that of the earthlyParadise, the Isle of Youth, _Tir-nan-Og_. This has impresseditself on the European imagination; in the Arthuriad it isrepresented by the Vale of Avalon, and as represented in the variousCeltic visions of the future life, it forms one of the main sourcesof Dante's _Divina Commedia_. It is possible too, I think, thatthe Homeric Hesperides and the Fortunate Isles of the ancients had aCeltic origin (as is well known, the early place-names of Europe arepredominantly Celtic). I have found, I believe, a reference to theconception in one of the earliest passages in the classics dealingwith the Druids. Lucan, in his _Pharsalia_ (i. 450-8), addressesthem in these high terms of reverence:

 Et vos barbaricos ritus, moremque sinistrum, Sacrorum, Druidae, positis repetistis ab armis, Solis nosse Deos et coeli numera vobis Aut solis nescire datum; nemora alta remotis Incolitis lucis. Vobis auctoribus umbrae, Non tacitas Erebi sedes, Ditisque profundi, Pallida regna petunt: _regit idem spiritus artus Orbe alio_: longae, canitis si cognita, vitae Mors media est. 

The passage certainly seems to me to imply a different conceptionfrom the ordinary classical views of the life after death, the darkand dismal plains of Erebus peopled with ghosts; and the passage Ihave italicised would chime in well with the conception of acontinuance of youth (_idem spiritus_) in Tir-nan-Og (_orbealio_). 

One of the most pathetic, beautiful, and typical scenes in Irishlegend is the return of Ossian from Tir-nan-Og, and his interviewwith St. Patrick. The old faith and the new, the old order of thingsand that which replaced it, meet in two of the most characteristicproducts of the Irish imagination (for the Patrick of legend is asmuch a legendary figure as Oisin himself). Ossian had gone away toTir-nan-Og with the fairy Niamh under very much the samecircumstances as Condla Ruad; time flies in the land of eternalyouth, and when Ossian returns, after a year as he thinks, more thanthree centuries had passed, and St. Patrick had just succeeded inintroducing the new faith. The contrast of Past and Present hasnever been more vividly or beautifully represented. 

II. GULEESH. 

_Source_. --From Dr. Douglas Hyde's _Beside the Fire_, 104-28, where it is a translation from the same author's _LeabharSgeulaighteachta_. Dr Hyde got it from one Shamus O'Hart, agamekeeper of Frenchpark. One is curious to know how far the verybeautiful landscapes in the story are due to Dr. Hyde, who confessesto have only taken notes. I have omitted a journey to Rome, paralleled, as Mr. Nutt has pointed out, by the similar one ofMichael Scott (_Waifs and Strays_, i. 46), and not bearing onthe main lines of the story. I have also dropped a part of Guleesh'sname: in the original he is "Guleesh na guss dhu, " Guleesh of theblack feet, because he never washed them; nothing turns on this inthe present form of the story, but one cannot but suspect it was ofimportance in the original form. 

_Parallels_. --Dr. Hyde refers to two short stories, "MidnightRide" (to Rome) and "Stolen Bride, " in Lady Wilde's _AncientLegends_. But the closest parallel is given by Miss Maclintock'sDonegal tale of "Jamie Freel and the Young Lady, " reprinted in Mr. Yeats' _Irish Folk and Fairy Tales_, 52-9. In the _HibernianTales_, "Mann o' Malaghan and the Fairies, " as reported byThackeray in the _Irish Sketch-Book_, c. Xvi. , begins like"Guleesh. "

III. FIELD OF BOLIAUNS. 

_Source_. --T. Crofton Croker's _Fairy Legends of the South ofIreland_, ed. Wright, pp. 135-9. In the original the gnome is aCluricaune, but as a friend of Mr. Batten's has recently heard thetale told of a Lepracaun, I have adopted the better known title. 

_Remarks_. --_Lepracaun_ is from the Irish _leithbhrogan_, the one-shoemaker (_cf_. Brogue), according to Dr. Hyde. He is generally seen (and to this day, too) working at asingle shoe, _cf. _ Croker's story "Little Shoe, " _l. C. _ pp. 142-4. According to a writer in the _Revue Celtique_, i. 256, the trueetymology is _luchor pan_, "little man. " Dr. Joyce also gives the sameetymology in _Irish Names and Places_, i. 183, where he mentionsseveral places named after them. 

IV. HORNED WOMEN. 

_Source_. --Lady Wilde's _Ancient Legends_, the firststory. 

_Parallels_. --A similar version was given by Mr. D. Fitzgeraldin the _Revue Celtique_, iv. 181, but without the significantand impressive horns. He refers to _Cornhill_ for February1877, and to Campbell's "Sauntraigh" No. Xxii. _Pop. Tales_, ii. 52 4, in which a "woman of peace" (a fairy) borrows a woman'skettle and returns it with flesh in it, but at last the womanrefuses, and is persecuted by the fairy. I fail to see much analogy. A much closer one is in Campbell, ii. P. 63, where fairies are gotrid of by shouting "Dunveilg is on fire. " The familiar "lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home, your house is on fire and your children athome, " will occur to English minds. Another version in Kennedy's_Legendary Fictions_, p. 164, "Black Stairs on Fire. "

_Remarks_. --Slievenamon is a famous fairy palace in Tipperaryaccording to Dr. Joyce, _l. C. _ i. 178. It was the hill on whichFinn stood when he gave himself as the prize to the Irish maiden whoshould run up it quickest. Grainne won him with dire consequences, as all the world knows or ought to know (Kennedy, _LegendFict. _, 222, "How Fion selected a Wife"). 

V. CONAL YELLOWCLAW. 

_Source_. --Campbell, _Pop. Tales of West Highlands_, No. V. Pp. 105-8, "Conall Cra Bhuidhe. " I have softened the thirdepisode, which is somewhat too ghastly in the original. I havetranslated "Cra Bhuide" Yellowclaw on the strength of Campbell'setymology, _l. C. _ p. 158. 

_Parallels_. --Campbell's vi. And vii. Are two variants showinghow widespread the story is in Gaelic Scotland. It occurs in Irelandwhere it has been printed in the chapbook, _Hibernian Tales_, as the "Black Thief and the Knight of the Glen, " the Black Thiefbeing Conall, and the knight corresponding to the King of Lochlan(it is given in Mr. Lang's _Red Fairy Book_). Here it attractedthe notice of Thackeray, who gives a good abstract of it in his_Irish Sketch-Book_, ch. Xvi. He thinks it "worthy of theArabian Nights, as wild and odd as an Eastern tale. " "Thatfantastical way of bearing testimony to the previous tale byproducing an old woman who says the tale is not only true, but whowas the very old woman who lived in the giant's castle is almost"(why "almost, " Mr. Thackeray?) "a stroke of genius. " The incident ofthe giant's breath occurs in the story of Koisha Kayn, MacInnes'_Tales_, i. 241, as well as the Polyphemus one, _ibid. _ 265. One-eyed giants are frequent in Celtic folk-tales (_e. G. _ in _ThePursuit of Diarmaid_ and in the _Mabinogi_ of Owen). 

_Remarks. _--Thackeray's reference to the "Arabian Nights" isespecially apt, as the tale of Conall is a framework story like_The 1001 Nights_, the three stories told by Conall beingframed, as it were, in a fourth which is nominally the real story. This method employed by the Indian story-tellers and from themadopted by Boccaccio and thence into all European literatures(Chaucer, Queen Margaret, &c. ), is generally thought to be peculiarto the East, and to be ultimately derived from the Jatakas or BirthStories of the Buddha who tells his adventures in formerincarnations. Here we find it in Celtdom, and it occurs also in"The Story-teller at Fault" in this collection, and the storyof _Koisha Kayn_ in MacInnes' _Argyllshire Tales_, a variantof which, collected but not published by Campbell, has no less thannineteen tales enclosed in a framework. The question is whether themethod was adopted independently in Ireland, or was due to foreigninfluences. Confining ourselves to "Conal Yellowclaw, " it seems notunlikely that the whole story is an importation. For the secondepisode is clearly the story of Polyphemus from the Odyssey whichwas known in Ireland perhaps as early as the tenth century (seeProf. K. Meyer's edition of _Merugud Uilix maic Leirtis_, Pref. P. Xii). It also crept into the voyages of Sindbad in the _ArabianNights_. And as told in the Highlands it bears comparison evenwith the Homeric version. As Mr. Nutt remarks (_Celt. Mag. _xii. ) the address of the giant to the buck is as effective as thatof Polyphemus to his ram. The narrator, James Wilson, was a blindman who would naturally feel the pathos of the address; "it comesfrom the heart of the narrator;" says Campbell (_l. C. _, 148), "it is the ornament which his mind hangs on the frame of the story. "

VI. HUDDEN AND DUDDEN. 

_Source. _--From oral tradition, by the late D. W. Logie, takendown by Mr. Alfred Nutt. 

_Parallels. _--Lover has a tale, "Little Fairly, " obviouslyderived from this folk-tale; and there is another very similar, "Darby Darly. " Another version of our tale is given under the title"Donald and his Neighbours, " in the chapbook _Hibernian Tales_mwhence it was reprinted by Thackeray in his _Irish Sketch-Book_, c. Xvi. This has the incident of the "accidental matricide, "on which see Prof. R. Köhler on Gonzenbach _Sicil. Mährchen_, ii. 224. No less than four tales of Campbell are of this type(_Pop. Tales_, ii. 218-31). M. Cosquin, in his "Contes populairesde Lorraine, " the storehouse of "storiology, " has elaborateexcursuses in this class of tales attached to his Nos. X. And xx. Mr. Clouston discusses it also in his _Pop. Tales_, ii. 229-88. Both these writers are inclined to trace the chief incidentsto India. It is to be observed that one of the earliest populardrolls in Europe, _Unibos_, a Latin poem of the eleventh, andperhaps the tenth, century, has the main outlines of the story, thefraudulent sale of worthless objects and the escape from the sacktrick. The same story occurs in Straparola, the European earliestcollection of folk-tales in the sixteenth century. On the otherhand, the gold sticking to the scales is familiar to us in _AliBaba_. (_Cf. _ Cosquin, _l. C. _, i. 225-6, 229). 

_Remarks_. --It is indeed curious to find, as M. Cosquin pointsout, a cunning fellow tied in a sack getting out by crying, "I won'tmarry the princess, " in countries so far apart as Ireland, Sicily(Gonzenbach, No. 71), Afghanistan (Thorburn, _Bannu_, p. 184), and Jamaica (_Folk-Lore Record_, iii. 53). It is indeed impossibleto think these are disconnected, and for drolls of this kind a goodcase has been made out for the borrowing hypotheses by M. Cosquinand Mr. Clouston. Who borrowed from whom is another and moredifficult question which has to be judged on its merits in eachindividual case. 

This is a type of Celtic folk-tales which are European in spread, have analogies with the East, and can only be said to be Celtic byadoption and by colouring. They form a distinct section of the talestold by the Celts, and must be represented in any characteristicselection. Other examples are xi. , xv. , xx. , and perhaps xxii. 

VII. SHEPHERD OF MYDDVAI. 

_Source_. --Preface to the edition of "The Physicians ofMyddvai"; their prescription-book, from the Red Book of Hergest, published by the Welsh MS. Society in 1861. The legend is notgiven in the Red Book, but from oral tradition by Mr. W. Rees, p. Xxi. As this is the first of the Welsh tales in this book it may be as wellto give the reader such guidance as I can afford him on theintricacies of Welsh pronunciation, especially with regard to themysterious _w_'s and _y_'s of Welsh orthography. For _w_ substitutedouble _o_, as in "_fool_, " and for _y_, the short _u_ in b_u_t, and as near approach to Cymric speech will be reached as is possiblefor the outlander. It maybe added that double _d_ equals _th_, anddouble _l_ is something like _Fl_, as Shakespeare knew in callinghis Welsh soldier Fluellen (Llewelyn). Thus "Meddygon Myddvai"would be _Anglicè_ "Methugon Muthvai. "

_Parallels. _--Other versions of the legend of the Van Pool aregiven in _Cambro-Briton_, ii. 315; W. Sikes, _British Goblins_, p. 40. Mr. E. Sidney Hartland has discussed these and othersin a set of papers contributed to the first volume of _TheArchaeological Review_ (now incorporated into _Folk-Lore_), the substance of which is now given in his _Science of FairyTales_, 274-332. (See also the references given in _RevueCeltique_, iv. , 187 and 268). Mr. Hartland gives there anecumenical collection of parallels to the several incidents that goto make up our story--(1) The bride-capture of the Swan-Maiden, (2)the recognition of the bride, (3) the taboo against causeless blows, (4) doomed to be broken, and (5) disappearance of the Swan-Maiden, with (6) her return as Guardian Spirit to her descendants. In eachcase Mr. Hartland gives what he considers to be the most primitiveform of the incident. With reference to our present tale, he comesto the conclusion, if I understand him aright, that the lake-maidenwas once regarded as a local divinity. The physicians of Myddvaiwere historic personages, renowned for their medical skill for somesix centuries, till the race died out with John Jones, _fl. _1743. To explain their skill and uncanny knowledge of herbs, thefolk traced them to a supernatural ancestress, who taught them theircraft in a place still called Pant-y-Meddygon ("Doctors' Dingle"). Their medical knowledge did not require any such remarkable origin, as Mr. Hartland has shown in a paper "On Welsh Folk-Medicine, "contributed to _Y Cymmrodor_, vol. Xii. On the other hand, theSwan-Maiden type of story is widespread through the Old World. Mr. Morris' "Land East of the Moon and West of the Sun, " in _TheEarthly Paradise_, is taken from the Norse version. Parallels areaccumulated by the Grimms, ii. 432; Köhler on Gonzenbach, ii. 20;or Blade, 149; Stokes' _Indian Fairy Tales_, 243, 276; andMessrs. Jones and Koopf, _Magyar Folk-Tales_, 362-5. It remainsto be proved that one of these versions did not travel to Wales, andbecome there localised. We shall see other instances of suchlocalisation or specialisation of general legends. 

VIII. THE SPRIGHTLY TAILOR. 

_Source. _--_Notes and Queries_ for December 21, 1861; towhich it was communicated by "Cuthbert Bede, " the author of_Verdant Green_, who collected it in Cantyre. 

_Parallels_. --Miss Dempster gives the same story in herSutherland Collection, No. Vii. (referred to by Campbell in hisGaelic list, at end of vol. Iv. ); Mrs. John Faed, I am informed by afriend, knows the Gaelic version, as told by her nurse in her youth. Chambers' "Strange Visitor, " _Pop. Rhymes of Scotland_, 64, ofwhich I gave an Anglicised version in my _English Fairy Tales_, No. Xxxii. , is clearly a variant. 

_Remarks_. --The Macdonald of Saddell Castle was a very greatman indeed. Once, when dining with the Lord-Lieutenant, an apologywas made to him for placing him so far away from the head of thetable. "Where the Macdonald sits, " was the proud response, "there isthe head of the table. "

IX. DEIRDRE. 

_Source_. --_Celtic Magazine_, xiii. Pp. 69, _seq_. Ihave abridged somewhat, made the sons of Fergus all faithful insteadof two traitors, and omitted an incident in the house of the wildmen called here "strangers. " The original Gaelic was given in the_Transactions of the Inverness Gaelic Society_ for 1887, p. 241, _seq. _, by Mr. Carmichael. I have inserted Deirdre's"Lament" from the _Book of Leinster_. 

_Parallels_. --This is one of the three most sorrowful Talesof Erin, (the other two, _Children of Lir_ and _Children ofTureen_, are given in Dr. Joyce's _Old Celtic Romances_), andis a specimen of the old heroic sagas of elopement, a list ofwhich is given in the _Book of Leinster_. The "outcast child"is a frequent episode in folk and hero-tales: an instance occurs inmy _English Fairy Tales_, No. Xxxv. , and Prof. Köhler givesmany others in _Archiv. F. Slav. Philologie_, i. 288. Mr. Nuttadds tenth century Celtic parallels in _Folk-Lore_, vol. Ii. The wooing of hero by heroine is a characteristic Celtic touch. See"Connla" here, and other examples given by Mr. Nutt in his notes toMacInnes' _Tales_. The trees growing from the lovers' gravesoccurs in the English ballad of _Lord Lovel_ and has beenstudied in _Mélusine_. 

_Remarks_. --The "Story of Deirdre" is a remarkable instance ofthe tenacity of oral tradition among the Celts. It has beenpreserved in no less than five versions (or six, includingMacpherson's "Darthula") ranging from the twelfth to the nineteenthcentury. The earliest is in the twelfth century, _Book ofLeinster_, to be dated about 1140 (edited in facsimile under theauspices of the Royal Irish Academy, i. 147, _seq. _). Thencomes a fifteenth century version, edited and translated byDr. Stokes in Windisch's _Irische Texte_ II. , ii. 109, _seq. _, "Death of the Sons of Uisnech. " Keating in his _History ofIreland_ gave another version in the seventeenth century. TheDublin Gaelic Society published an eighteenth century version intheir _Transactions_ for 1808. And lastly we have the versionbefore us, collected only a few years ago, yet agreeing in allessential details with the version of the _Book of Leinster_. Such a record is unique in the history of oral tradition, outsideIreland, where, however, it is quite a customary experience in thestudy of the Finn-saga. It is now recognised that Macpherson had, orcould have had, ample material for his _rechauffé_ of the Finnor "Fingal" saga. His "Darthula" is a similar cobbling of ourpresent story. I leave to Celtic specialists the task of settlingthe exact relations of these various texts. I content myself withpointing out the fact that in these latter days of a seeminglyprosaic century in these British Isles there has been collected fromthe lips of the folk a heroic story like this of "Deirdre, " full ofromantic incidents, told with tender feeling and considerableliterary skill. No other country in Europe, except perhaps Russia, could provide a parallel to this living on of Romance among thecommon folk. Surely it is a bounden duty of those who are in theposition to put on record any such utterances of the folk-imagination of the Celts before it is too late. 

X. MUNACHAR AND MANACHAR. 

_Source_. --I have combined the Irish version given by Dr. Hydein his _Leabhar Sgeul. _, and translated by him for Mr. Yeats'_Irish Folk and Fairy Tales_, and the Scotch version given inGaelic and English by Campbell, No. Viii. 

_Parallels_. --Two English versions are given in my _Eng. Fairy Tales_, No. Iv. , "The Old Woman and her Pig, " and xxxiv. , "The Cat and the Mouse, " where see notes for other variants in theseisles. M. Cosquin, in his notes to No. Xxxiv. , of his _Contesde Lorraine_, t. Ii. Pp. 35-41, has drawn attention to anastonishing number of parallels scattered through all Europe andthe East (_cf. _, too, Crane, _Ital. Pop. Tales_, notes, 372-5). One of the earliest allusions to the jingle is in _Don Quixote_, pt. 1, c. Xvi. : "Y asi como suele decirse _el gato al rato, et rato ála cuerda, la cuerda al palo_, daba el arriero á Sancho, Sanchoá la moza, la moza á él, el ventero á la moza. " As I have pointedout, it is used to this day by Bengali women at the end of eachfolk-tale they recite (L. B. Day, _Folk-Tales of Bengal_, Pref. ). 

_Remarks_. --Two ingenious suggestions have been made as to theorigin of this curious jingle, both connecting it with religiousceremonies: (1) Something very similar occurs in Chaldaic at the endof the Jewish _Hagada_, or domestic ritual for the Passovernight. It has, however, been shown that this does not occur in earlyMSS. Or editions, and was only added at the end to amuse thechildren after the service, and was therefore only a translation oradaptation of a current German form of the jingle; (2) M. Basset, inthe _Revue des Traditions populaires_, 1890, t. V. P. 549, hassuggested that it is a survival of the old Greek custom at thesacrifice of the Bouphonia for the priest to contend that _he_had not slain the sacred beast, the axe declares that the handle didit, the handle transfers the guilt further, and so on. This isingenious, but fails to give any reasonable account of the diffusionof the jingle in countries which have had no historic connectionwith classical Greece. 

XI. GOLD TREE AND SILVER TREE. 

_Source_. --_Celtic Magazine_, xiii. 213-8, Gaelic andEnglish from Mr. Kenneth Macleod. 

_Parallels_. --Mr. Macleod heard another version in which "GoldTree" (anonymous in this variant) is bewitched to kill her father'shorse, dog, and cock. Abroad it is the Grimm's _Schneewittchen_(No. 53), for the Continental variants of which see Köhler onGonzenbach, _Sicil. Mährchen_, Nos. 2-4, Grimm's notes on 53, and Crane, _Ital. Pop. Tales_, 331. No other version is knownin the British Isles. 

_Remarks_. --It is unlikely, I should say impossible, that thistale, with the incident of the dormant heroine, should have arisenindependently in the Highlands; it is most likely an importationfrom abroad. Yet in it occurs a most "primitive" incident, thebigamous household of the hero; this is glossed over in Mr. Macleod's other variant. On the "survival" method of investigationthis would possibly be used as evidence for polygamy in theHighlands. Yet if, as is probable, the story came from abroad, thistrait may have come with it, and only implies polygamy in theoriginal home of the tale. 

XII. KING O'TOOLE AND HIS GOOSE. 

_Source_. --S. Lover's _Stories and Legends of the IrishPeasantry_. 

_Remarks_. --This is really a moral apologue on the benefits ofkeeping your word. Yet it is told with such humour and vigour, thatthe moral glides insensibly into the heart. 

XIII. THE WOOING OF OLWEN. 

_Source_. --The _Mabinogi_ of Kulhwych and Olwen from thetranslation of Lady Guest, abridged. 

_Parallels_. --Prof. Rhys, _Hibbert Lectures_, p. 486, considers that our tale is paralleled by Cuchulain's "Wooing ofEmer, " a translation of which by Prof. K. Meyer appeared in the_Archaeological Review_, vol. I. I fail to see much analogy. Onthe other hand in his _Arthurian Legend_, p. 41, he rightlycompares the tasks set by Yspythadon to those set to Jason. They areindeed of the familiar type of the Bride Wager (on which see Grimm-Hunt, i. 399). The incident of the three animals, old, older, andoldest, has a remarkable resemblance to the _Tettira Jataka_(ed. Fausböll, No. 37, transl. Rhys Davids, i. P. 310 _seq. _)in which the partridge, monkey, and elephant dispute as to theirrelative age, and the partridge turns out to have voided the seed ofthe Banyan-tree under which they were sheltered, whereas theelephant only knew it when a mere bush, and the monkey had nibbledthe topmost shoots. This apologue got to England at the end of thetwelfth century as the sixty-ninth fable, "Wolf, Fox, and Dove, " ofa rhymed prose collection of "Fox Fables" (_Mishle Shu'alim_), of an Oxford Jew, Berachyah Nakdan, known in the Records as"Benedict le Puncteur" (see my _Fables Of Aesop_, i. P. 170). Similar incidents occur in "Jack and his Snuff-box" in my _EnglishFairy Tales_, and in Dr. Hyde's "Well of D'Yerree-in-Dowan. " Theskilled companions of Kulhwych are common in European folk-tales(_Cf. _ Cosquin, i. 123-5), and especially among the Celts (seeMr. Nutt's note in MacInnes' _Tales_, 445-8), among whom theyoccur very early, but not so early as Lynceus and the other skilledcomrades of the Argonauts. 

_Remarks_. --The hunting of the boar Trwyth can be traced backin Welsh tradition at least as early as the ninth century. For it isreferred to in the following passage of Nennius' _HistoriaBritonum_ ed. Stevenson, p: 60, "Est aliud miraculum in regionequae dicitur Buelt [Builth, co. Brecon] Est ibi cumulus lapidum etunus lapis super-positus super congestum cum vestigia canis in eo. Quando venatus est porcum Troynt [_var. Lec. _ Troit] impressitCabal, qui erat canis Arthuri militis, vestigium in lapide et Arthurpostea congregavit congestum lapidum sub lapide in quo eratvestigium canis sui et vocatur Carn Cabal. " Curiously enough thereis still a mountain called Carn Cabal in the district of Builth, south of Rhayader Gwy in Breconshire. Still more curiously a friendof Lady Guest's found on this a cairn with a stone two feet long byone foot wide in which there was an indentation 4 in. X 3 in. X 2in. Which could easily have been mistaken for a paw-print of a dog, as maybe seen from the engraving given of it (Mabinogion, ed. 1874, p. 269). 

The stone and the legend are thus at least one thousand years old. "There stands the stone to tell if I lie. " According to Prof. Rhys(_Hibbert Lect. _ 486-97) the whole story is a mythological one, Kulhwych's mother being the dawn, the clover blossoms that growunder Olwen's feet being comparable to the roses that sprung upwhere Aphrodite had trod, and Yspyddadon being the incarnation ofthe sacred hawthorn. Mabon, again (_i. E. _ pp. 21, 28-9), is theApollo Maponus discovered in Latin inscriptions at Ainstable inCumberland and elsewhere (Hübner, _Corp. Insc. Lat. Brit. _ Nos. 218, 332, 1345). Granting all this, there is nothing to show anymythological significance in the tale, though there may have beenin the names of the _dramatis personae_. I observe from theproceedings of the recent Eisteddfod that the bardic name of Mr. W. Abraham, M. P. , is 'Mabon. ' It scarcely follows that Mr. Abraham isin receipt of divine honours nowadays. 

XIV. JACK AND HIS COMRADES. 

_Source_. --Kennedy's _Legendary Fictions of the IrishCelts_. 

_Parallels_. --This is the fullest and most dramatic version Iknow of the Grimm's "Town Musicians of Bremen" (No. 27). I havegiven an English (American) version in my _English FairyTales_, No. 5, in the notes to which would be found references toother versions known in the British Isles (_e. G. _, Campbell, No. 11) and abroad. _Cf. _ remarks on No. Vi. 

XV. SHEE AN GANNON AND GRUAGACH GAIRE. 

_Source. _--Curtin, _Myths and Folk-Lore of Ireland_, p. 114 _seq. _ I have shortened the earlier part of the tale, andintroduced into the latter a few touches from Campbell's story of"Fionn's Enchantment, " in _Revue Celtique_, t. I. , 193 _seq. _

_Parallels_. --The early part is similar to the beginning of"The Sea-Maiden" (No. Xvii. , which see). The latter part ispractically the same as the story of "Fionn's Enchantment, " justreferred to. It also occurs in MacInnes' _Tales_, No. Iii. , "The King of Albainn" (see Mr. Nutt's notes, 454). The head-crownedspikes are Celtic, _cf. _ Mr. Nutt's notes (MacInnes' _Tales_, 453). 

_Remarks_. --Here again we meet the question whether the folk-tale precedes the hero-tale about Finn or was derived from it, andagain the probability seems that our story has the priority as afolk-tale, and was afterwards applied to the national hero, Finn. This is confirmed by the fact that a thirteenth century Frenchromance, _Conte du Graal_, has much the same incidents, and wasprobably derived from a similar folk-tale of the Celts. Indeed, Mr. Nutt is inclined to think that the original form of our story (whichcontains a mysterious healing vessel) is the germ out of which thelegend of the Holy Grail was evolved (see his _Studies in the HolyGrail_, p. 202 _seq. _). 

XVI. THE STORY-TELLER AT FAULT. 

_Source_. --Griffin's _Tales from a Jury-Room_, combinedwith Campbell, No. Xvii. _c_, "The Slim Swarthy Champion. "

_Parallels_. --Campbell gives another variant, _l. C. _ i. 318. Dr. Hyde has an Irish version of Campbell's tale written downin 1762, from which he gives the incident of the air-ladder (whichI have had to euphemise in my version) in his _Beside theFireside_, p. 191, and other passages in his Preface. The mostremarkable parallel to this incident, however, is afforded by thefeats of Indian jugglers reported briefly by Marco Polo, andillustrated with his usual wealth of learning by the late Sir HenryYule, in his edition, vol. I. P. 308 _seq. _ The accompanyingillustration (reduced from Yule) will tell its own tale: it is takenfrom the Dutch account of the travels of an English sailor, E. Melton, _Zeldzaame Reizen_, 1702, p. 468. It tells the tale infive acts, all included in one sketch. Another instance quoted byYule is still more parallel, so to speak. The twenty-third trickperformed by some conjurors before the Emperor Jahangueir(_Memoirs_, p. 102) is thus described: "They produced a chainof 50 cubits in length, and in my presence threw one end of ittowards the sky, where it remained as if fastened to something inthe air. A dog was then brought forward, and being placed at thelower end of the chain, immediately ran up, and, reaching the otherend, immediately disappeared in the air. In the same manner a hog, apanther, a lion, and a tiger were successively sent up the chain. "It has been suggested that the conjurors hypnotise the spectators, and make them believe they see these things. This is practically thesuggestion of a wise Mohammedan, who is quoted by Yule as saying, "_Wallah!_ 'tis my opinion there has been neither going up norcoming down; 'tis all hocus-pocus, " hocus-pocus being presumably theMohammedan term for hypnotism. 

_Remarks_. --Dr. Hyde (_l. C. _ Pref. Xxix. ) thinks our talecannot be older than 1362, because of a reference to one O'ConnorSligo which occurs in all its variants; it is, however, omitted inour somewhat abridged version. Mr Nutt (_ap. _ Campbell, _TheFians_, Introd. Xix. ) thinks that this does not prevent a stillearlier version having existed. I should have thought that theexistence of so distinctly Eastern a trick in the tale, and the factthat it is a framework story (another Eastern characteristic), wouldimply that it is a rather late importation, with local allusionssuperadded (_cf. _ notes on "Conal Yellowclaw, " No v. )

The passages in verse from pp 137, 139, and the description of theBeggarman, pp. 136, 140, are instances of a curious characteristicof Gaelic folk-tales called "runs. " Collections of conventionalepithets are used over and over again to describe the same incident, the beaching of a boat, sea-faring, travelling and the like, and areinserted in different tales. These "runs" are often similar in boththe Irish and the Scotch form of the same tale or of the sameincident. The volumes of _Waifs and Strays_ contain numerousexamples of these "runs, " which have been indexed in each volume. These "runs" are another confirmation of my view that the originalform of the folk-tale was that of the _Cante-fable_ (see noteon "Connla" and on "Childe Rowland" in _English Fairy Tales_). 

XVII. SEA-MAIDEN. 

_Source_. --Campbell, _Pop. Tales_, No. 4. I have omittedthe births of the animal comrades and transposed the carlin to themiddle of the tale. Mr. Batten has considerately idealised the Sea-Maiden in his frontispiece. When she restores the husband to thewife in one of the variants, she brings him out of her mouth! "Sothe sea-maiden put up his head (_Who do you mean? Out of her mouthto be sure. She had swallowed him_). "

_Parallels_. --The early part of the story occurs in No. Xv. , "Shee an Gannon, " and the last part in No. Xix. , "Fair, Brown, andTrembling" (both from Curtin), Campbell's No. 1. "The Young King" ismuch like it; also MacInnes' No. Iv. , "Herding of Cruachan" and No. Viii. , "Lod the Farmer's Son. " The third of Mr. Britten's Irishfolk-tales in the _Folk-Lore Journal_ is a Sea-Maiden story. The story is obviously a favourite one among the Celts. Yet its mainincidents occur with frequency in Continental folk-tales. Prof. Köhler has collected a number in his notes on Campbell's Tales in_Orient und Occident_, Bnd. Ii. 115-8. The trial of the swordoccurs in the saga of Sigurd, yet it is also frequent in Celtic sagaand folk-tales (see Mr. Nutt's note, MacInnes' _Tales_, 473, and add. Curtin, 320). The hideous carlin and her three giant sonsis also a common form in Celtic. The external soul of the Sea-Maidencarried about in an egg, in a trout, in a hoodie, in a hind, is aremarkable instance of a peculiarly savage conception which has beenstudied by Major Temple, _Wide-awake Stories_, 404-5; by Mr. E. Clodd, in the "Philosophy of Punchkin, " in _Folk-Lore Journal_, vol. Ii. , and by Mr. Frazer in his _Golden Bough_, vol. Ii. 

_Remarks_. --As both Prof. Rhys (_Hibbert Lect. _, 464) andMr. Nutt (MacInnes' _Tales_, 477) have pointed out, practicallythe same story (that of Perseus and Andromeda) is told of theUltonian hero, Cuchulain, in the _Wooing of Emer_, a tale whichoccurs in the Book of Leinster, a MS. Of the twelfth century, andwas probably copied from one of the eighth. Unfortunately it is notcomplete, and the Sea-Maiden incident is only to be found in aBritish Museum MS. Of about 1300. In this Cuchulain finds that thedaughter of Ruad is to be given as a tribute to the Fomori, who, according to Prof. Rhys, _Folk-Lore_, ii. 293, have somethingof the night_mare_ about their etymology. Cuchulain fights_three_ of them successively, has his wounds bound up by astrip of the maiden's garment, and then departs. Thereafter manyboasted of having slain the Fomori, but the maiden believed them nottill at last by a stratagem she recognises Cuchulain. I may add tothis that in Mr. Curtin's _Myths_, 330, the threefold trial ofthe sword is told of Cuchulain. This would seem to trace our storyback to the seventh or eighth century and certainly to thethirteenth. If so, it is likely enough that it spread from Irelandthrough Europe with the Irish missions (for the wide extent of whichsee map in Mrs. Bryant's _Celtic Ireland_). The very lettersthat have spread through all Europe except Russia, are to be tracedto the script of these Irish monks: why not certain folk-tales?There is a further question whether the story was originally told ofCuchulain as a hero-tale and then became departicularised as a folk-tale, or was the process _vice versa_. Certainly in the form inwhich it appears in the _Tochmarc Emer_ it is not complete, sothat here, as elsewhere, we seem to have an instance of a folk-taleapplied to a well-known heroic name, and becoming a hero-tale orsaga. 

XVIII. LEGEND OF KNOCKMANY. 

_Source_. --W. Carleton, _Traits and Stories of the IrishPeasantry_. 

_Parallels_. --Kennedy's "Fion MacCuil and the Scotch Giant, "_Legend. Fict. _, 203-5. 

_Remarks_. --Though the venerable names of Finn and Cucullin(Cuchulain) are attached to the heroes of this story, this isprobably only to give an extrinsic interest to it. The two heroescould not have come together in any early form of their sagas, sinceCuchulain's reputed date is of the first, Finn's of the thirdcentury A. D. (_cf. _ however, MacDougall's _Tales_, notes, 272). Besides, the grotesque form of the legend is enough to removeit from the region of the hero-tale. On the other hand, there is adistinct reference to Finn's wisdom-tooth, which presaged the futureto him (on this see _Revue Celtique_, v. 201, Joyce, _Old Celt. Rom. _, 434-5, and MacDougall, _l. C. _ 274). Cucullin's power-fingeris another instance of the life-index or external soul, on which seeremarks on Sea-Maiden. Mr. Nutt informs me that parodies of theIrish sagas occur as early as the sixteenth century, and the presenttale may be regarded as a specimen. 

XIX. FAIR, BROWN, AND TREMBLING. 

_Source_. --Curtin, _Myths, &c. , of Ireland, 78 seq. _

_Parallels_. --The latter half resembles the second part of theSea-Maiden (No. Xvii. ), which see. The earlier portion is aCinderella tale (on which see the late Mr. Ralston's article in_Nineteenth Century_, Nov. 1879, and Mr. Lang's treatment inhis Perrault). Miss Roalfe Cox is about to publish for the Folk-LoreSociety a whole volume of variants of the Cinderella group ofstories, which are remarkably well represented in these isles, nearly a dozen different versions being known in England, Ireland, and Scotland. 

XX. JACK AND HIS MASTER. 

_Source_. --Kennedy, _Fireside Stories of Ireland_, 74-80, "Shan an Omadhan and his Master. "

_Parallels_. --It occurs also in Campbell, No. Xlv. , "Mac aRusgaich. " It is a European droll, the wide occurrence of which--"the loss of temper bet" I should call it--is bibliographised by M. Cosquin, _l. C. _ ii. 50 (_cf. _ notes on No. Vi. ). 

XXI. BETH GELLERT. 

_Source_. --I have paraphrased the well-known poem of Hon. W. R. Spencer, "Beth Gêlert, or the Grave of the Greyhound, " first printedprivately as a broadsheet in 1800 when it was composed ("August 11, 1800, Dolymalynllyn" is the colophon). It was published in Spencer's_Poems_, 1811, pp. 78-86. These dates, it will be seen, are ofimportance. Spencer states in a note: "The story of this ballad istraditionary in a village at the foot of Snowdon where Llewellyn theGreat had a house. The Greyhound named Gêlert was given him by hisfather-in-law, King John, in the year 1205, and the place to thisday is called Beth-Gêlert, or the grave of Gêlert. " As a matter offact, no trace of the tradition in connection with Bedd Gellert canbe found before Spencer's time. It is not mentioned in Leland's_Itinerary_, ed. Hearne, v. P. 37 ("Beth Kellarth"), in Pennant's_Tour_ (1770), ii. 176, or in Bingley's _Tour in Wales_ (1800). Borrow in his _Wild Wales_, p. 146, gives the legend, but doesnot profess to derive it from local tradition. 

_Parallels_. --The only parallel in Celtdom is that noticed byCroker in his third volume, the legend of Partholan who killed hiswife's greyhound from jealousy: this is found sculptured in stone atAp Brune, co. Limerick. As is well known, and has been elaboratelydiscussed by Mr. Baring-Gould (_Curious Myths of the MiddleAges_, p. 134 _seq. _), and Mr. W. A. Clouston (_Popular Talesand Fictions_, ii. 166, _seq. _), the story of the man whorashly slew the dog (ichneumon, weasel, &c. ) that had saved hisbabe from death, is one of those which have spread from East toWest. It is indeed, as Mr. Clouston points out, still current inIndia, the land of its birth. There is little doubt that it isoriginally Buddhistic: the late Prof. S. Beal gave the earliestknown version from the Chinese translation of the _VinayaPitaka_ in the _Academy_ of Nov. 4, 1882. The conception ofan animal sacrificing itself for the sake of others is peculiarlyBuddhistic; the "hare in the moon" is an apotheosis of such a pieceof self-sacrifice on the part of Buddha (_Sasa Jataka_). Thereare two forms that have reached the West, the first being that of ananimal saving men at the cost of its own life. I pointed out anearly instance of this, quoted by a Rabbi of the second century, inmy _Fables of Aesop_, i. 105. This concludes with a strangelyclose parallel to Gellert; "They raised a cairn over his grave, and the place is still called The Dog's Grave. " The _Culex_attributed to Virgil seems to be another variant of this. The secondform of the legend is always told as a moral apologue againstprecipitate action, and originally occurred in _The Fables ofBidpai_ in its hundred and one forms, all founded on Buddhisticoriginals (_cf. _ Benfey, _Pantschatantra_, Einleitung, §201). [Footnote: It occurs in the same chapter as the story of LaPerrette, which has been traced, after Benfey, by Prof. M. Müller inhis "Migration of Fables" (_Sel. Essays_, i. 500-74): exactlythe same history applies to Gellert. ] Thence, according to Benfey, it was inserted in the _Book of Sindibad_, another collectionof Oriental Apologues framed on what may be called the Mrs. Potipharformula. This came to Europe with the Crusades, and is known in itsWestern versions as the _Seven Sages of Rome_. The Gellertstory occurs in all the Oriental and Occidental versions;_e. G. _, it is the First Master's story in Wynkyn de Worde's(ed. G. L. Gomme, for the Villon Society. ) From the _SevenSages_ it was taken into the particular branch of the _GestaRomanorum_ current in England and known as the English _Gesta_, where it occurs as c. Xxxii. , "Story of Folliculus. " We have thus tracedit to England whence it passed to Wales, where I have discovered it asthe second apologue of "The Fables of Cattwg the Wise, " in the IoloMS. Published by the Welsh MS. Society, p. 561, "The man whokilled his Greyhound. " (These Fables, Mr. Nutt informs me, are apseudonymous production probably of the sixteenth century. ) Thisconcludes the literary route of the Legend of Gellert from India toWales: Buddhistic _Vinaya Pitaka--Fables of Bidpai_;--Oriental_Sindibad_;--Occidental _Seven Sages of Rome_;--"English" (Latin), _Gesta Romanorum_;--Welsh, _Fables of Cattwg_. 

_Remarks_. --We have still to connect the legend with Llewelynand with Bedd Gelert. But first it may be desirable to point out whyit is necessary to assume that the legend is a legend and not afact. The saving of an infant's life by a dog, and the mistakenslaughter of the dog, are not such an improbable combination as tomake it impossible that the same event occurred in many places. Butwhat is impossible, in my opinion, is that such an event should haveindependently been used in different places as the typical instanceof, and warning against, rash action. That the Gellert legend, before it was localised, was used as a moral apologue in Wales isshown by the fact that it occurs among the Fables of Cattwg, whichare all of that character. It was also utilised as a proverb: "_Yrwy'n edivaru cymmaint a'r Gwr a laddodd ei Vilgi_" ("I repent asmuch as the man who slew his greyhound"). The fable indeed, fromthis point of view, seems greatly to have attracted the Welsh mind, perhaps as of especial value to a proverbially impetuoustemperament. Croker (_Fairy Legends of Ireland_, vol. Iii. P. 165) points out several places where the legend seems to have beenlocalised in place-names--two places, called "Gwal y Vilast"("Greyhound's Couch"), in Carmarthen and Glamorganshire; "Llech yAsp" ("Dog's Stone"), in Cardigan, and another place named in Welsh"Spring of the Greyhound's Stone. " Mr. Baring-Gould mentions thatthe legend is told of an ordinary tombstone, with a knight and agreyhound, in Abergavenny Church; while the Fable of Cattwg is toldof a man in Abergarwan. So widespread and well known was the legendthat it was in Richard III's time adopted as the national crest. Inthe Warwick Roll, at the Herald's Office, after giving separatecrests for England, Scotland, and Ireland, that for Wales is givenas figured in the margin, and blazoned "on a coronet in a cradle or, a greyhound argent for Walys" (see J. R. Planché, _Twelve Designsfor the Costume of Shakespeare's Richard III. _, 1830, frontispiece). If this Roll is authentic, the popularity of the legend is thrown backinto the fifteenth century. It still remains to explain how and when thisgeneral legend of rash action was localised and specialised at BeddGelert: I believe I have discovered this. There certainly was a locallegend about a dog named Gelert at that place; E. Jones, in the firstedition of his _Musical Relicks of the Welsh Bards_, 1784, p. 40, givesthe following _englyn_ or epigram:

 Claddwyd Cylart celfydd (ymlyniad) Ymlaneau Efionydd Parod giuio i'w gynydd Parai'r dydd yr heliai Hydd;

which he Englishes thus:

 The remains of famed Cylart, so faithful and good, The bounds of the cantred conceal; Whenever the doe or the stag he pursued His master was sure of a meal. 

No reference was made in the first edition to the Gellert legend, but in the second edition of 1794, p. 75, a note was added tellingthe legend, "There is a general tradition in North Wales that a wolfhad entered the house of Prince Llewellyn. Soon after the Princereturned home, and, going into the nursery, he met his dog _Kill-hart_, all bloody and wagging his tail at him; Prince Llewellyn, on entering the room found the cradle where his child layoverturned, and the floor flowing with blood; imagining that thegreyhound had killed the child, he immediately drew his sword andstabbed it; then, turning up the cradle, found under it the childalive, and the wolf dead. This so grieved the Prince, that heerected a tomb over his faithful dog's grave; where afterwards theparish church was built and goes by that name--_Bedd Cilhart_, or the grave of Kill-hart, in _Carnarvonshire_. From thisincident is elicited a very common Welsh proverb [that given abovewhich occurs also in 'The Fables of Cattwg;' it will be observedthat it is quite indefinite. ]" "Prince Llewellyn ab Jorwerth marriedJoan, [natural] daughter of King John, by _Agatha_, daughterof Robert Ferrers, Earl of Derby; and the dog was a present tothe prince from his father-in-law about the year 1205. " It wasclearly from this note that the Hon. Mr. Spencer got his account;oral tradition does not indulge in dates _Anno Domini_. Theapplication of the general legend of "the man who slew hisgreyhound" to the dog Cylart, was due to the learning of E. Jones, author of the _Musical Relicks_. I am convinced of this, for bya lucky chance I am enabled to give the real legend about Cylart, which is thus given in Carlisle's _Topographical Dictionary ofWales_, s. V. , "Bedd Celert, " published in 1811, the date ofpublication of Mr. Spencer's _Poems_. "Its name, according totradition, implies _The Grave of Celert_, a Greyhound whichbelonged to Llywelyn, the last Prince of Wales: and a large Rock isstill pointed out as the monument of this celebrated Dog, being onthe spot where it was found dead, together with the stag which ithad pursued from Carnarvon, " which is thirteen miles distant. Thecairn was thus a monument of a "record" run of a greyhound: the_englyn_ quoted by Jones is suitable enough for this, whilequite inadequate to record the later legendary exploits of Gêlert. Jones found an _englyn_ devoted to _an_ exploit of a dog namedCylart, and chose to interpret it in his second edition, 1794, as _the_exploit of a greyhound with which all the world (in Wales) wereacquainted. Mr. Spencer took the legend from Jones (the referenceto the date 1205 proves that), enshrined it in his somewhat _banal_verses, which were lucky enough to be copied into several reading-books, and thus became known to all English-speaking folk. 

It remains only to explain why Jones connected the legend withLlewelyn. Llewelyn had local connection with Bedd Gellert, which wasthe seat of an Augustinian abbey, one of the oldest in Wales. Aninspeximus of Edward I. Given in Dugdale, _Monast. Angl. _, ed. Pr. Ii. 100a, quotes as the earliest charter of the abbey "CartamLewelin, magni. " The name of the abbey was "Beth Kellarth"; thename is thus given by Leland, _l. C. _, and as late as 1794 anengraving at the British Museum is entitled "Beth Kelert, " whileCarlisle gives it as "Beth Celert. " The place was thus named afterthe abbey, not after the cairn or rock. This is confirmed by thefact of which Prof. Rhys had informed me, that the collocation ofletters _rt_ is un-Welsh. Under these circumstances it is notimpossible, I think, that the earlier legend of the marvellous runof "Cylart" from Carnarvon was due to the etymologising fancy ofsome English-speaking Welshman who interpreted the name as Killhart, so that the simpler legend would be only a folk-etymology. 

But whether Kellarth, Kelert, Cylart, Gêlert or Gellert ever existedand ran a hart from Carnarvon to Bedd Gellert or no, there can belittle doubt after the preceding that he was not the original heroof the fable of "the man that slew his greyhound, " which came toWales from Buddhistic India through channels which are perfectlytraceable. It was Edward Jones who first raised him to that proudposition, and William Spencer who securely installed him there, probably for all time. The legend is now firmly established at BeddGellert. There is said to be an ancient air, "Bedd Gelert, " "as sungby the Ancient Britons"; it is given in a pamphlet published atCarnarvon in the "fifties, " entitled _Gellert's Grave; or, Llewellyn's Rashness: a Ballad, by the Hon. W. R. Spencer, to whichis added that ancient Welsh air, "Bedd Gelert, " as sung by theAncient Britons_. The air is from R. Roberts' "Collection ofWelsh Airs, " but what connection it has with the legend I have beenunable to ascertain. This is probably another case of adapting onetradition to another. It is almost impossible to distinguishpalaeozoic and cainozoic strata in oral tradition. According toMurray's _Guide to N. Wales_, p. 125, the only authority forthe cairn now shown is that of the landlord of the Goat Inn, "whofelt compelled by the cravings of tourists to invent a grave. " Someold men at Bedd Gellert, Prof. Rhys informs me, are ready to testifythat they saw the cairn laid. They might almost have been present atthe birth of the legend, which, if my affiliation of it is correct, is not yet quite 100 years old. 

XXII. STORY OF IVAN. 

_Source_. --Lluyd, _Archaeologia Britannia_, 1707, thefirst comparative Celtic grammar and the finest piece of work incomparative philology hitherto done in England, contains this taleas a specimen of Cornish then still spoken in Cornwall. I have usedthe English version contained in _Blackwood's Magazine_ as longago as May 1818. I have taken the third counsel from the Irishversion, as the original is not suited _virginibus puerisque_, though harmless enough in itself. 

_Parallels_. --Lover has a tale, _The Three Advices_. Itoccurs also in modern Cornwall _ap. _ Hunt, _Drolls of West ofEngland_, 344, "The Tinner of Chyamor. " Borrow, _Wild Wales_, 41, has a reference which seems to imply that the story had crystallisedinto a Welsh proverb. Curiously enough, it forms the chief episodeof the so-called "Irish Odyssey" ("_Merugud Uilix maiec Leirtis_"--"Wandering of Ulysses M'Laertes"). It was derived, in all probability, from the _Gesta Romanorum_, c. 103, where two of the three piecesof advice are "Avoid a byeway, " "Beware of a house where thehousewife is younger than her husband. " It is likely enough that thischapter, like others of the _Gesta_, came from the East, for it isfound in some versions of "The Forty Viziers, " and in the _TurkishTales_ (see Oesterley's parallels and _Gesta_, ed. Swan andHooper, note 9). 

XXIII. ANDREW COFFEY. 

_Source_. --From the late D. W. Logie, written down by Mr. Alfred Nutt. 

_Parallels_. --Dr. Hyde's "Teig O'Kane and the Corpse, " andKennedy's "Cauth Morrisy, " _Legend. Fict. _, 158, are practicallythe same. 

_Remarks_. --No collection of Celtic Folk-Tales would berepresentative that did not contain some specimen of the gruesome. The most effective ghoul story in existence is Lover's "Brown Man. "

XXIV. BATTLE OF BIRDS. 

_Source_. --Campbell (_Pop. Tales, W. Highlands_, No. Ii. ), with touches from the seventh variant and others, including thecasket and key finish, from Curtin's "Son of the King of Erin"(_Myths, &c. , 32 seq. _). I have also added a specimen of thehumorous end pieces added by Gaelic story-tellers; on these tags seean interesting note in MacDougall's _Tales_, note on p. 112. Ihave found some difficulty in dealing with Campbell's excessive useof the second person singular, "If thou thouest him some two orthree times, 'tis well, " but beyond that it is wearisome. Practically, I have reserved _thou_ for the speech of giants, who may be supposed to be somewhat old-fashioned. I fear, however, Ihave not been quite consistent, though the _you's_ addressed tothe apple-pips are grammatically correct as applied to the pair oflovers. 

_Parallels_. --Besides the eight versions given or abstracted byCampbell and Mr. Curtin's, there is Carleton's "Three Tasks, " Dr. Hyde's "Son of Branduf" (MS. ); there is the First Tale of MacInnes(where see Mr. Nutt's elaborate notes, 431-43), two in the _CelticMagazine_, vol. Xii. , "Grey Norris from Warland" (_Folk-LoreJourn. _ i. 316), and Mr. Lang's Morayshire Tale, "Nicht NoughtNothing" (see _Eng. Fairy Tales_, No. Vii. ), no less thansixteen variants found among the Celts. It must have occurred earlyamong them. Mr. Nutt found the feather-thatch incident in the_Agallamh na Senoraib_ ("Discourse of Elders"), which is atleast as old as the fifteenth century. Yet the story is to be foundthroughout the Indo-European world, as is shown by Prof. Köhler'selaborate list of parallels attached to Mr. Lang's variant in_Revue Celtique_, iii. 374; and Mr. Lang, in his _Custom andMyth_ ("A far travelled Tale"), has given a number of parallelsfrom savage sources. And strangest of all, the story is practicallythe same as the classical myth of Jason and Medea. 

_Remarks_. --Mr. Nutt, in his discussion of the tale (MacInnes, _Tales_ 441), makes the interesting suggestion that the obstaclesto pursuit, the forest, the mountain, and the river, exactly representthe boundary of the old Teutonic Hades, so that the story wasoriginally one of the Descent to Hell. Altogether it seems likely thatit is one of the oldest folk-tales in existence, and belonged to thestory-store of the original Aryans, whoever they were, was passedby them with their language on to the Hellenes and perhaps to theIndians, was developed in its modern form in Scandinavia (whereits best representative "The Master Maid" of Asbjörnsen is still found), was passed by them to the Celts and possibly was transmitted bythese latter to other parts of Europe, perhaps by early Irish monks(see notes on "Sea-Maiden"). The spread in the Buddhistic world, and thence to the South Seas and Madagascar, would be secondaryfrom India. I hope to have another occasion for dealing with thismost interesting of all folk-tales in the detail it deserves. 

XXV. BREWERY OF EGGSHELLS. 

_Source_. --From the _Cambrian Quarterly Magazine_, 1830, vol. Ii. P. 86; it is stated to be literally translated from theWelsh. 

_Parallels_. --Another variant from Glamorganshire is given in YCymmrodor, vi. 209. Croker has the story under the title I havegiven the Welsh one in his _Fairy Legends_, 41. Mr. Hartland, in his _Science of Fairy Tales_, 113-6, gives the Europeanparallels. 

XXVI. LAD WITH THE GOAT SKIN. 

_Source_. --Kennedy, _Legendary Fictions_, pp. 23-31. TheAdventures of "Gilla na Chreck an Gour'. "

_Parallels_. --"The Lad with the Skin Coverings" is a popularCeltic figure, _cf. _ MacDougall's Third Tale, MacInnes' Second, and a reference in Campbell, iii. 147. According to Mr. Nutt(_Holy Grail_, 134), he is the original of Parzival. But theadventures in these tales are not the "cure by laughing" incidentwhich forms the centre of our tale, and is Indo-European in extent(_cf. _ references in _English Fairy Tales_, notes to No. Xxvii. ). "The smith who made hell too hot for him is Sisyphus, " says Mr. Lang (Introd. To Grimm, p. Xiii. ); in Ireland he is Billy Dawson(Carleton, _Three Wishes_). In the Finn-Saga, Conan harrieshell, as readers of _Waverley_ may remember "'Claw for claw, and devil take the shortest nails, ' as Conan said to the Devil"(_cf. _ Campbell, _The Fians_, 73, and notes, 283). Red-hairedmen in Ireland and elsewhere are always rogues (see Mr. Nutt'sreferences, MacInnes' _Tales_, 477; to which add the casein "Lough Neagh, " Yeats, _Irish Folk-Tales_, p. 210).