A woman was one night lying awake while her husband slept, when the
door suddenly opened and a tall dark man entered, of fierce aspect,
followed by an old hag with a child in her arms—a little, misshapen,
sickly-looking little thing. They both sat down by the fire to warm
themselves, and after some time the man looked over at the cradle that
stood beside the mother’s bed with her boy in it, and kept his eyes
on it for several minutes. Then he rose, and when the mother saw him
walking over direct to the cradle, she fainted and knew no more.
When she came to herself she called to her husband, and bade him light
a candle; this he did, on which the old hag in the corner rose up at
once and blew it out. Then he lit it a second time, and it was blown
out; and still a third time he lit the candle, when again it was blown
out, and a great peal of laughter was heard in the darkness.
On this the man grew terribly angry, and taking up the tongs he made a
blow at the hag; but she slipped away, and struck him on the arm with
a stick she held in her hand. Then he grew more furious, and beat her
on the head till she roared, when he pushed her outside and locked the
door.
After this he lit the candle in peace; but when they looked at the
cradle, lo! in place of their own beautiful boy, a hideous little
creature, all covered with hair, lay grinning at them. Great was their
grief and lamentation, and both the man and his wife wept and wailed
aloud for the loss of their child, and the cry of their sorrow was
bitter to hear.
Just then the door suddenly opened, and a young woman came in, with a
scarlet handkerchief wound round her head.
“What are you crying for,” she asked, “at this time of night, when
every one should be asleep?”
“Look at this child in the cradle,” answered the man, “and you will
cease to wonder why we mourn and are sad at heart.” And he told her all
the story.
When the young woman went over to the cradle and looked at the child,
she laughed, but said nothing.
“Your laughter is stranger than our tears,” said the man. “Why do you
laugh in the face of our sorrows?”
“Because,” she said, “this is my child that was stolen from me
to-night; for I am one of the fairy race, and my people, who live under
the fort on the hill, thought your boy was a fine child, and so they
changed the babies in the cradle; but, after all, I would rather have
my own, ugly as he is, than any mortal child in the world. So now I’ll
tell you how to get back your own son, and I’ll take away mine at once.
Go to the old fort on the hill when the moon is full, and take with you
three sheafs of corn and some fire, and burn them one after the other.
And when the last sheaf is burning, an old man will come up through the
smoke, and he will ask you what it is you desire. Then tell him you
must have your child back, or you will burn down the fort, and leave
no dwelling-place for his people on the hill. Now, the fairies cannot
stand against the power of fire, and they will give you back your child
at the mere threat of burning the fort. But mind, take good care of him
after, and tie a nail from a horse-shoe round his neck, and then he
will be safe.”
With that the young woman took up the ugly little imp from the cradle
in her arms, and was away before they could see how she got out of the
house.
Next night, when the moon was full, the man went to the old fort with
the three sheafs of corn and the fire, and burned them one after the
other; and as the second was lighted there came up an old man and asked
him what was his desire.
“I must have my child again that was stolen,” he answered, “or I’ll
burn down every tree on the hill, and not leave you a stone of the fort
where you can shelter any more with your fairy kindred.”
Then the old man vanished, and there was a great silence, but no one
appeared.
On this the father grew angry, and he called out in a loud voice, “I
am lifting the third sheaf now, and I’ll burn and destroy and make
desolate your dwelling-place, if my child is not returned.”
Then a great tumult and clamour was heard in the fort, and a voice
said, “Let it be. The power of the fire is too strong for us. Bring
forth the child.”
And presently the old man appeared, carrying the child in his arms.
“Take him,” he said. “By the spell of the fire, and the corn you have
conquered. But take my advice, draw a circle of fire, with a hot coal
this night, round the cradle when you go home, and the fairy power
cannot touch him any more, by reason of the fire.”
So the man did as he was desired, and by the spell of fire and of corn
the child was saved from evil, and he grew and prospered. And the old
fort stands to this day safe from harm, for the man would allow no hand
to move a stone or harm a tree; and the fairies still dance there on
the rath, when the moon is full, to the music of the fairy pipes, and
no one hinders them.