HALLOWE'EN
"IT'S jumping wid joy I am," said Norah.
It was the eve of the first day of November, and the little girl was
putting on a new dress. Her father had been to the pig fair at
Killarney. He had sold his pigs for a good price, and had brought home
enough blue cloth to make gowns for both Norah and Katie.
But what is a pig fair? perhaps you are wondering. It is like any other
fair in the old countries, except that little else is sold besides pigs.
Pigs! pigs! pigs! Big pigs and little pigs. Pigs rolling in fat and
weighing a good three hundred pounds. Little baby pigs, pink and white,
and too young to leave their mothers.
Streets full of men and pigs. Everybody talking, and many of them
laughing and telling each other funny stories.
And all along the sides of the roads were horses and donkeys fastened to
queer-looking wagons, in which the pigs had been brought to market.
Oh, a pig fair is a jolly sight, as Norah's brother would tell you.
The two blue dresses were made in a hurry by the mother, and now the
whole family were going to a party at Mollie's house. It was to
celebrate Hallowe'en. Patsy had to go, too, for there was no one to
leave him with at home.
There was no baby-carriage for him. But that did not matter. He could go
on his mother's broad back, after she had wrapped a big shawl over her
shoulders.
The father led the procession. He felt very grand in a coat with long
tails and a tall hat.
Of course, Norah and Katie felt fine in their new gowns. They walked
behind their mother, looking from time to time at her new red petticoat,
and then at their own dresses.
It seemed a longer walk than usual, because they were so anxious to get
there and join in the sport.
"Hear the piper, hear the piper!" shouted Katie, as they at last drew
near the farmhouse. And her little bare feet began to dance along the
path.
A minute more, and the house door opened wide, and the visitors were
made welcome.
The kitchen was not large, and it was already well filled. The big bed
had been moved over into a corner to make room for dancing. The older
people, who did not dance, sat on the edge of the bed, while the
children nestled together on the floor against the wall.
The turf fire was glowing in the big fireplace, and giving a pleasant
welcome to all. On the rafters overhead, some hens were fast asleep, not
seeming to mind the music and laughter in the least.
The piper was playing his jolliest tunes, and two young people were
dancing a jig when Norah arrived.
"Good! good!" cried the rest of the company, as the young girl went
around and around the young man, her partner, never once losing the
step. Her heavy shoes made a great clatter as they came down on the
paved floor.
Her face grew redder and redder. Her breath came harder and harder, but
she would not give up dancing till the piper himself left off playing.
"Let us bob for apples now," said the host. "We will give these young
folks a chance to get their breath."
A big tub of water was brought in, and some apples were set floating in
it. Who would duck for the apples? Every one who had a chance. It did
not matter how old or how young they might be.
It was such fun! One head after another went down into the water to see
who could seize an apple between his teeth without using his hands to
help him.
When the company grew tired of this sport, there were other games and
more lively dances.
Then there were refreshments. There was plenty of tea for the big folks,
and bread and cheese and potato cakes for all.
As they sat eating, the piper began to play a soft, sad tune.
"They do say he learned it of the fairies," whispered Mollie to Norah.
Just then, the children's school-teacher came and sat down beside them.
He heard the word "Fairies."
"Do you believe in fairies?" he asked Norah.
She lifted her blue eyes in surprise.
"Sure, sir. They live in the hills and caves. And there be some, I have
heard, who have their homes under the waves of the sea. This night they
are more lively than at most times.
"Mother was careful this morning not to drain the milk-pail. She wanted
to leave a drop in case the fairy folk should come along and wish for a
sup. And sure, sir, father never puts the fire out at night. He says
maybe the fairies might like to rest a bit on our hearth before the
morning."
The schoolmaster smiled, but did not contradict the little girl. He
thought it would only trouble the child.
Norah's father had once said, "The teacher is a man of great larnin'.
And, strange to say, I have heard that people of larnin' have little
belief in fairy folk."
"Would you like me to tell you a story?" asked the teacher, after a
moment or two.
"Oh, plaze do, indade!" said Norah and Mollie together. They loved their
teacher dearly.
Their school was kept in a plain, bare little room with rough benches
and desks. There was nothing bright or pretty about it. But their
teacher was kind, and tried to help them learn. They were always glad to
be with him and hear him talk.
"You have never been to the north of Ireland, have you?" he asked.
"Oh, no, sir. We've never been farther from home than the Lakes of
Killarney," answered Mollie.
"But you know, of course, that this is an island, and if you travel to
the northeastern shore of Ireland you must cross the sea if you want to
go to Scotland."
"Yes, indeed, you showed that to us on the map at school."
"I will tell you of a giant named Finn McCool, who is said to have lived
on that rocky shore. Do you know what a giant is?"
"Oh, yes. He's like any other man, only he's ever and ever so much
bigger," answered Norah.
"Very well, then. This particular giant wished to fight another giant
who lived in Scotland. He invited him to come across the sea to Ireland.
But the Scotch giant was not able to swim. So he answered:
"'I would gladly come if I could, but I cannot get across.'
"'It's an aisy matter to make a road for you,' said Finn. 'It is hardly
worth speaking about.'
"He set to work at once and built a road, or causeway, made of stone
pillars. They were placed close together, and reached upward from the
bed of the sea. Of course, the Scotch giant could not refuse to come
now."
"Could we see it if we went there?" Mollie eagerly asked.
"You could see a part of it. But, according to the legend, it was broken
in two by the sea. Even now, you could walk out upon it for quite a
distance. But the causeway slopes downward into the water, and then
seems to stop. Some people, however, believe it extends under the sea
clear to Scotland.
"It is certainly a wonderful thing, and many people from other countries
go to see it.
"Do you suppose it was really the work of giants, children?"
"Indade, whatever else could it be, sir? No common man could do it."
"No one knows; no one knows," said the schoolmaster, thoughtfully. "But
come, let us join in the songs. We know more about them."
How sweet and clear the voices sounded, as the favourite tunes of
Ireland rang through the farmhouse.
Then came fairy stories and jokes, and the party broke up just as the
little wooden clock on the mantel struck the hour of midnight.