"Moll Roe Rafferty was the son--daughter I mane--of ould Jack Rafferty,
who was remarkable for a habit he had of always wearing his head undher
his hat; but indeed the same family was a quare one, as everybody knew
that was acquainted wid them. It was said of them--but whether it was
thrue or not I won't undhertake to say, for 'fraid I'd tell a lie--that
whenever they didn't wear shoes or boots they always went barefooted;
but I heard aftherwards that this was disputed, so rather than say
anything to injure their character, I'll let that pass. Now, ould Jack
Rafferty had two sons, Paddy and Molly--hut! what are you all laughing
at?--I mane a son and daughter, and it was generally believed among the
neighbours that they were brother and sisther, which you know might be
thrue or it might not: but that's a thing that, wid the help o'
goodness, we have nothing to say to. Troth there was many ugly things
put out on them that I don't wish to repate, such as that neither Jack
nor his son Paddy ever walked a perch widout puttin' one foot afore the
other like a salmon; an' I know it was whispered about, that whinever
Moll Roe slep', she had an out-of-the-way custom of keepin' her eyes
shut. If she did, however, for that matther the loss was her own; for
sure we all know that when one comes to shut their eyes they can't see
as far before them as another.
"Moll Roe was a fine young bouncin' girl, large and lavish, wid a
purty head o' hair on her like scarlet, that bein' one of the raisons
why she was called _Roe_, or red; her arms an' cheeks were much the
colour of the hair, an' her saddle nose was the purtiest thing of its
kind that ever was on a face. Her fists--for, thank goodness, she was
well sarved wid them too--had a strong simularity to two thumpin'
turnips, reddened by the sun; an' to keep all right and tight, she had
a temper as fiery as her head--for, indeed, it was well known that all
the Rafferties were _warm_-hearted. Howandiver, it appears that God
gives nothing in vain, and of coorse the same fists, big and red as
they were, if all that is said about them is thrue, were not so much
given to her for ornament as use. At laist, takin' them in connection
wid her lively temper, we have it upon good authority, that there was
no danger of their getting blue-moulded for want of practice. She had
a twist, too, in one of her eyes that was very becomin' in its way,
and made her poor husband, when she got him, take it into his head
that she could see round a corner. She found him out in many quare
things, widout doubt; but whether it was owin' to that or not, I
wouldn't undertake to say _for fraid I'd tell a lie_.
"Well, begad, anyhow it was Moll Roe that was the _dilsy_.[38] It
happened that there was a nate vagabone in the neighbourhood, just as
much overburdened wid beauty as herself, and he was named Gusty
Gillespie. Gusty, the Lord guard us, was what they call a black-mouth
Prosbytarian, and wouldn't keep Christmas-day, the blagard, except
what they call 'ould style.' Gusty was rather good-lookin' when seen
in the dark, as well as Moll herself; and, indeed, it was purty well
known that--accordin' as the talk went--it was in nightly meetings
that they had an opportunity of becomin' detached to one another. The
quensequence was, that in due time both families began to talk very
seriously as to what was to be done. Moll's brother, Pawdien
O'Rafferty, gave Gusty the best of two choices. What they were it's
not worth spakin' about; but at any rate _one_ of them was a poser,
an' as Gusty knew his man, he soon came to his senses. Accordianly
everything was deranged for their marriage, and it was appointed that
they should be spliced by the Rev. Samuel M'Shuttle, the Prosbytarian
parson, on the following Sunday.
"Now this was the first marriage that had happened for a long time in
the neighbourhood betune a black-mouth an' a Catholic, an' of coorse
there was strong objections on both sides aginst it; an' begad, only
for one thing, it would never 'a tuck place at all. At any rate, faix,
there was one of the bride's uncles, ould Harry Connolly, a fairy-man,
who could cure all complaints wid a secret he had, and as he didn't
wish to see his niece married upon sich a fellow, he fought bittherly
against the match. All Moll's friends, however, stood up for the
marriage barrin' him, an' of coorse the Sunday was appointed, as I
said, that they were to be dove-tailed together.
"Well, the day arrived, and Moll, as became her, went to mass, and
Gusty to meeting, afther which they were to join one another in Jack
Rafferty's, where the priest, Father M'Sorley, was to slip up afther
mass to take his dinner wid them, and to keep Misther M'Shuttle, who
was to marry them, company. Nobody remained at home but ould Jack
Rafferty an' his wife, who stopped to dress the dinner, for, to tell
the truth, it was to be a great let-out entirely. Maybe, if all was
known, too, that Father M'Sorley was to give them a cast of his office
over an' above the ministher, in regard that Moll's friends were not
altogether satisfied at the kind of marriage which M'Shuttle could
give them. The sorrow may care about that--splice here--splice
there--all I can say is, that when Mrs. Rafferty was goin' to tie up a
big bag pudden, in walks Harry Connolly, the fairy-man, in a rage, and
shouts out,--'Blood and blunderbushes, what are yez here for?'
"'Arrah why, Harry? Why, avick?'
"'Why, the sun's in the suds and the moon in the high Horicks; there's
a clipstick comin' an, an' there you're both as unconsarned as if it
was about to rain mether. Go out and cross yourselves three times in
the name o' the four Mandromarvins, for as prophecy says:--Fill the
pot, Eddy, supernaculum--a blazing star's a rare spectaculum. Go out
both of you and look at the sun, I say, an' ye'll see the condition
he's in--off!'
"Begad, sure enough, Jack gave a bounce to the door, and his wife
leaped like a two-year-ould, till they were both got on a stile beside
the house to see what was wrong in the sky.
"'Arrah, what is it, Jack,' said she; 'can you see anything?'
"'No,' says he, 'sorra the full o' my eye of anything I can spy,
barrin' the sun himself, that's not visible in regard of the clouds.
God guard us! I doubt there's something to happen.'
"'If there wasn't, Jack, what 'ud put Harry, that knows so much, in
the state he's in?'
"'I doubt it's this marriage,' said Jack: 'betune ourselves, it's not
over an' above religious for Moll to marry a black-mouth, an' only
for----; but it can't be helped now, though you see not a taste o' the
sun is willin' to show his face upon it.'
"'As to that,' says the wife, winkin' wid both her eyes, 'if Gusty's
satisfied wid Moll, it's enough. I know who'll carry the whip hand,
anyhow; but in the manetime let us ax Harry 'ithin what ails the sun.'
"Well, they accordianly went in an' put the question to him:
"'Harry, what's wrong, ahagur? What is it now, for if anybody alive
knows, 'tis yourself?'
"'Ah!' said Harry, screwin' his mouth wid a kind of a dhry smile, 'the
sun has a hard twist o' the cholic; but never mind that, I tell you
you'll have a merrier weddin' than you think, that's all;' and havin'
said this, he put on his hat and left the house.
"Now, Harry's answer relieved them very much, and so, afther calling
to him to be back for the dinner, Jack sat down to take a shough o'
the pipe, and the wife lost no time in tying up the pudden and puttin'
it in the pot to be boiled.
"In this way things went on well enough for a while, Jack smokin'
away, an' the wife cookin' and dhressin' at the rate of a hunt. At
last, Jack, while sittin', as I said, contentedly at the fire, thought
he could persave an odd dancin' kind of motion in the pot that puzzled
him a good deal.
"'Katty,' said he, 'what the dickens is in this pot on the fire?'
"'Nerra thing but the big pudden. Why do you ax?' says she.
"'Why,' said he, 'if ever a pot tuck it into its head to dance a jig,
and this did. Thundher and sparbles, look at it!'
"Begad, it was thrue enough; there was the pot bobbin' up an' down and
from side to side, jiggin' it away as merry as a grig; an' it was
quite aisy to see that it wasn't the pot itself, but what was inside
of it, that brought about the hornpipe.
"'Be the hole o' my coat,' shouted Jack, 'there's something alive in
it, or it would never cut sich capers!'
"'Be gorra, there is, Jack; something sthrange entirely has got into
it. Wirra, man alive, what's to be done?'
"Jist as she spoke, the pot seemed to cut the buckle in prime style,
and afther a spring that 'ud shame a dancin'-masther, off flew the
lid, and out bounced the pudden itself, hoppin', as nimble as a pea on
a drum-head, about the floor. Jack blessed himself, and Katty crossed
herself. Jack shouted, and Katty screamed. 'In the name of goodness,
keep your distance; no one here injured you!'
"The pudden, however, made a set at him, and Jack lepped first on a
chair and then on the kitchen table to avoid it. It then danced
towards Kitty, who was now repatin' her prayers at the top of her
voice, while the cunnin' thief of a pudden was hoppin' and jiggin' it
round her, as if it was amused at her distress.
"'If I could get the pitchfork,' said Jack, 'I'd dale wid it--by goxty
I'd thry its mettle.'
"'No, no,' shouted Katty, thinkin' there was a fairy in it; 'let us
spake it fair. Who knows what harm it might do? Aisy now,' said she to
the pudden, 'aisy, dear; don't harm honest people that never meant to
offend you. It wasn't us--no, in troth, it was ould Harry Connolly
that bewitched you; pursue _him_ if you wish, but spare a woman like
me; for, whisper, dear, I'm not in a condition to be frightened--troth
I'm not.'
"The pudden, bedad, seemed to take her at her word, and danced away
from her towards Jack, who, like the wife, believin' there was a fairy
in it, an' that spakin' it fair was the best plan, thought he would
give it a soft word as well as her.
"'Plase your honour,' said Jack, 'she only spaiks the truth; an', upon
my voracity, we both feels much oblaiged to your honour for your
quietness. Faith, it's quite clear that if you weren't a gentlemanly
pudden all out, you'd act otherwise. Ould Harry, the rogue, is your
mark; he's jist gone down the road there, and if you go fast you'll
overtake him. Be me song, your dancin' masther did his duty, anyhow.
Thank your honour! God speed you, an' may you never meet wid a parson
or alderman in your thravels!'
"Jist as Jack spoke the pudden appeared to take the hint, for it
quietly hopped out, and as the house was directly on the road-side,
turned down towards the bridge, the very way that ould Harry went. It
was very natural, of coorse, that Jack and Katty should go out to see
how it intended to thravel; and, as the day was Sunday, it was but
natural, too, that a greater number of people than usual were passin'
the road. This was a fact; and when Jack and his wife were seen
followin' the pudden, the whole neighbourhood was soon up and afther it.
"'Jack Rafferty, what is it? Katty, ahagur, will you tell us what it
manes?'
"'Why,' replied Katty, 'it's my big pudden that's bewitched, an' it's
now hot foot pursuin'----;' here she stopped, not wishin' to mention
her brother's name--'_some one_ or other that surely put _pishrogues_
an it.'[39]
"This was enough; Jack, now seein' that he had assistance, found his
courage comin' back to him; so says he to Katty, 'Go home,' says he,
'an' lose no time in makin' another pudden as good, an' here's Paddy
Scanlan's wife, Bridget, says she'll let you boil it on her fire, as
you'll want our own to dress the rest o' the dinner: and Paddy himself
will lend me a pitchfork, for purshuin to the morsel of that same
pudden will escape till I let the wind out of it, now that I've the
neighbours to back an' support me,' says Jack.
"This was agreed to, and Katty went back to prepare a fresh pudden,
while Jack an' half the townland pursued the other wid spades, graips,
pitchforks, scythes, flails, and all possible description of
instruments. On the pudden went, however, at the rate of about six
Irish miles an hour, an' sich a chase never was seen. Catholics,
Prodestants, an' Prosbytarians, were all afther it, armed, as I said,
an' bad end to the thing but its own activity could save it. Here it
made a hop, and there a prod was made at it; but off it went, an' some
one, as eager to get a slice at it on the other side, got the prod
instead of the pudden. Big Frank Farrell, the miller of Ballyboulteen,
got a prod backwards that brought a hullabaloo out of him you might
hear at the other end of the parish. One got a slice of a scythe,
another a whack of a flail, a third a rap of a spade that made him
look nine ways at wanst.
"'Where is it goin'?' asked one. 'My life for you, it's on it's way to
Meeting. Three cheers for it if it turns to Carntaul.' 'Prod the sowl
out of it, if it's a Prodestan',' shouted the others; 'if it turns to
the left, slice it into pancakes. We'll have no Prodestan' puddens
here.'
"Begad, by this time the people were on the point of beginnin' to have
a regular fight about it, when, very fortunately, it took a short turn
down a little by-lane that led towards the Methodist praichin-house,
an' in an instant all parties were in an uproar against it as a
Methodist pudden. 'It's a Wesleyan,' shouted several voices; 'an' by
this an' by that, into a Methodist chapel it won't put a foot to-day,
or we'll lose a fall. Let the wind out of it. Come, boys, where's your
pitchforks?'
"The divle purshuin to the one of them, however, ever could touch the
pudden, an' jist when they thought they had it up against the gavel of
the Methodist chapel, begad it gave them the slip, and hops over to
the left, clane into the river, and sails away before all their eyes
as light as an egg-shell.
"Now, it so happened that a little below this place, the demesne-wall
of Colonel Bragshaw was built up to the very edge of the river on each
side of its banks; and so findin' there was a stop put to their
pursuit of it, they went home again, every man, woman, and child of
them, puzzled to think what the pudden was at all, what it meant, or
where it was goin'! Had Jack Rafferty an' his wife been willin' to let
out the opinion they held about Harry Connolly bewitchin' it, there is
no doubt of it but poor Harry might be badly trated by the crowd,
when their blood was up. They had sense enough, howandiver, to keep
that to themselves, for Harry bein' an' ould bachelor, was a kind
friend to the Raffertys. So, of coorse, there was all kinds of talk
about it--some guessin' this, and some guessin' that--one party sayin'
the pudden was of there side, another party denyin' it, an' insistin'
it belonged to them, an' so on.
"In the manetime, Katty Rafferty, for 'fraid the dinner might come
short, went home and made another pudden much about the same size as
the one that had escaped, and bringin' it over to their next
neighbour, Paddy Scanlan's, it was put into a pot and placed on the
fire to boil, hopin' that it might be done in time, espishilly as they
were to have the ministher, who loved a warm slice of a good pudden as
well as e'er a gintleman in Europe.
"Anyhow, the day passed; Moll and Gusty were made man an' wife, an' no
two could be more lovin'. Their friends that had been asked to the
weddin' were saunterin' about in pleasant little groups till
dinner-time, chattin' an' laughin'; but, above all things, sthrivin'
to account for the figaries of the pudden; for, to tell the truth, its
adventures had now gone through the whole parish.
"Well, at any rate, dinner-time was dhrawin' near, and Paddy Scanlan
was sittin' comfortably wid his wife at the fire, the pudden boilen
before their eyes, when in walks Harry Connolly, in a flutter,
shoutin'--'Blood an' blunderbushes, what are yez here for?'
"'Arra, why, Harry--why, avick?' said Mrs. Scanlan.
"'Why,' said Harry, 'the sun's in the suds an' the moon in the high
Horicks! Here's a clipstick comin' an, an' there you sit as
unconsarned as if it was about to rain mether! Go out both of you, an'
look at the sun, I say, and ye'll see the condition he's in--off!'
"'Ay, but, Harry, what's that rowled up in the tail of your
cothamore[40] (big coat)?'
"'Out wid yez,' said Harry, 'an' pray aginst the clipstick--the sky's
fallin'!'
"Begad, it was hard to say whether Paddy or the wife got out first,
they were so much alarmed by Harry's wild thin face an' piercin' eyes;
so out they went to see what was wondherful in the sky, an' kep'
lookin' an' lookin' in every direction, but not a thing was to be
seen, barrin' the sun shinin' down wid great good-humour, an' not a
single cloud in the sky.
"Paddy an' the wife now came in laughin', to scould Harry, who, no
doubt, was a great wag in his way when he wished. 'Musha, bad scran to
you, Harry----.' They had time to say no more, howandiver, for, as
they were goin' into the door, they met him comin' out of it wid a
reek of smoke out of his tail like a lime-kiln.
"'Harry,' shouted Bridget, 'my sowl to glory, but the tail of your
cothamore's a-fire--you'll be burned. Don't you see the smoke that's
out of it?'
"'Cross yourselves three times,' said Harry, widout stoppin', or even
lookin' behind him, 'for, as the prophecy says--Fill the pot,
Eddy----' They could hear no more, for Harry appeared to feel like a
man that carried something a great deal hotter than he wished, as
anyone might see by the liveliness of his motions, and the quare faces
he was forced to make as he went along.
"'What the dickens is he carryin' in the skirts of his big coat?'
asked Paddy.
"'My sowl to happiness, but maybe he has stole the pudden,' said
Bridget, 'for it's known that many a sthrange thing he does.'
"They immediately examined the pot, but found that the pudden was
there as safe as tuppence, an' this puzzled them the more, to think
what it was he could be carryin' about wid him in the manner he did.
But little they knew what he had done while they were sky-gazin'!
"Well, anyhow, the day passed and the dinner was ready, an' no doubt
but a fine gatherin' there was to partake of it. The Prosbytarian
ministher met the Methodist praicher--a divilish stretcher of an
appetite he had, in throth--on their way to Jack Rafferty's, an' as he
knew he could take the liberty, why he insisted on his dinin' wid
him; for, afther all, begad, in thim times the clargy of all
descriptions lived upon the best footin' among one another, not all as
one as now--but no matther. Well, they had nearly finished their
dinner, when Jack Rafferty himself axed Katty for the pudden; but,
jist as he spoke, in it came as big as a mess-pot.
"'Gintlemen,' said he, 'I hope none of you will refuse tastin' a bit
of Katty's pudden; I don't mane the dancin' one that tuck to its
thravels to-day, but a good solid fellow that she med since.'
"'To be sure we won't,' replied the priest; 'so, Jack, put a thrifle
on them three plates at your right hand, and send them over here to
the clargy, an' maybe,' he said, laughin'--for he was a droll
good-humoured man--'maybe, Jack, we won't set you a proper example.'
"'Wid a heart an' a half, yer reverence an' gintlemen; in throth, it's
not a bad example ever any of you set us at the likes, or ever will
set us, I'll go bail. An' sure I only wish it was betther fare I had
for you; but we're humble people, gintlemen, and so you can't expect
to meet here what you would in higher places.'
"'Betther a male of herbs,' said the Methodist praicher, 'where pace
is----.' He had time to go no farther, however; for much to his
amazement, the priest and the ministher started up from the table jist
as he was goin' to swallow the first spoonful of the pudden, and
before you could say Jack Robinson, started away at a lively jig down
the floor.
"At this moment a neighbour's son came runnin' in, an' tould them that
the parson was comin' to see the new-married couple, an' wish them all
happiness; an' the words were scarcely out of his mouth when he made
his appearance. What to think he knew not, when he saw the ministher
footing it away at the rate of a weddin'. He had very little time,
however, to think; for, before he could sit down, up starts the
Methodist praicher, and clappin' his two fists in his sides chimes in
in great style along wid him.
"'Jack Rafferty,' says he--and, by the way, Jack was his tenant--'what
the dickens does all this mane?' says he; 'I'm amazed!'
"'The not a particle o' me can tell you,' says Jack; 'but will your
reverence jist taste a morsel o' pudden, merely that the young couple
may boast that you ait at their weddin'; for sure if _you_ wouldn't,
_who_ would?'
"'Well,' says he, 'to gratify them I will; so just a morsel. But,
Jack, this bates Bannagher,' says he again, puttin' the spoonful o'
pudden into his mouth; 'has there been dhrink here?'
"'Oh, the divle a _spudh_,' says Jack, 'for although there's plinty in
the house, faith, it appears the gintlemen wouldn't wait for it.
Unless they tuck it elsewhere, I can make nothin' of this.'
"He had scarcely spoken, when the parson, who was an active man, cut a
caper a yard high, an' before you could bless yourself, the three
clargy were hard at work dancin', as if for a wager. Begad, it would
be unpossible for me to tell you the state the whole meetin' was in
when they seen this. Some were hoarse wid laughin'; some turned up
their eyes wid wondher; many thought them mad, an' others thought they
had turned up their little fingers a thrifle too often.
"'Be goxty, it's a burnin' shame,' said one, 'to see three black-mouth
clargy in sich a state at this early hour!' 'Thundher an' ounze,
what's over them at all?' says others; 'why, one would think they're
bewitched. Holy Moses, look at the caper the Methodis cuts! An' as for
the Recther, who would think he could handle his feet at such a rate!
Be this an' be that, he cuts the buckle, and does the threblin' step
aiquil to Paddy Horaghan, the dancin'-masther himself? An' see! Bad
cess to the morsel of the parson that's not hard at _Peace upon a
trancher_, an' it of a Sunday too! Whirroo, gintlemen, the fun's in
yez afther all--whish! more power to yez!'
"The sorra's own fun they had, an' no wondher; but judge of what they
felt, when all at once they saw ould Jack Rafferty himself bouncin' in
among them, and footing it away like the best o' them. Bedad, no play
could come up to it, an' nothin' could be heard but laughin', shouts of
encouragement, and clappin' of hands like mad. Now the minute Jack
Rafferty left the chair where he had been carvin' the pudden, ould Harry
Connolly comes over and claps himself down in his place, in ordher to
send it round, of coorse; an' he was scarcely sated, when who should
make his appearance but Barney Hartigan, the piper. Barney, by the way,
had been sent for early in the day, but bein' from home when the message
for him went, he couldn't come any sooner.
"'Begorra,' said Barney, 'you're airly at the work, gintlemen! but
what does this mane? But, divle may care, yez shan't want the music
while there's a blast in the pipes, anyhow!' So sayin' he gave them
_Jig Polthogue_, an' after that _Kiss my Lady_, in his best style.
"In the manetime the fun went on thick an' threefold, for it must be
remimbered that Harry, the ould knave, was at the pudden; an' maybe he
didn't sarve it about in double quick time too. The first he helped
was the bride, and, before you could say chopstick, she was at it hard
an' fast before the Methodist praicher, who gave a jolly spring before
her that threw them into convulsions. Harry liked this, and made up
his mind soon to find partners for the rest; so he accordianly sent
the pudden about like lightnin'; an' to make a long story short,
barrin' the piper an' himself, there wasn't a pair o' heels in the
house but was as busy at the dancin' as if their lives depinded on it.
"'Barney,' says Harry, 'just taste a morsel o' this pudden; divle the
such a bully of a pudden ever you ett; here, your sowl! thry a snig of
it--it's beautiful.'
"'To be sure I will,' says Barney. 'I'm not the boy to refuse a good
thing; but, Harry, be quick, for you know my hands is engaged, an' it
would be a thousand pities not to keep them in music, an' they so well
inclined. Thank you, Harry; begad that is a famous pudden; but blood
an' turnips, what's this for?'
"The word was scarcely out of his mouth when he bounced up, pipes an'
all, an' dashed into the middle of the party. 'Hurroo, your sowls, let
us make a night of it! The Ballyboulteen boys for ever! Go it, your
reverence--turn your partner--heel an' toe, ministher. Good! Well done
again--Whish! Hurroo! Here's for Ballyboulteen, an' the sky over it!'
"Bad luck to the sich a set ever was seen together in this world, or
will again, I suppose. The worst, however, wasn't come yet, for jist
as they were in the very heat an' fury of the dance, what do you think
comes hoppin' in among them but another pudden, as nimble an' merry as
the first! That was enough; they all had heard of--the ministhers
among the rest--an' most o' them had seen the other pudden, and knew
that there must be a fairy in it, sure enough. Well, as I said, in it
comes to the thick o' them; but the very appearance of it was enough.
Off the three clargy danced, and off the whole weddiners danced afther
them, every one makin' the best of their way home; but not a sowl of
them able to break out of the step, if they were to be hanged for it.
Throth it wouldn't lave a laugh in you to see the parson dancin' down
the road on his way home, and the ministher and Methodist praicher
cuttin' the buckle as they went along in the opposite direction. To
make short work of it, they all danced home at last, wid scarce a puff
of wind in them; the bride and bridegroom danced away to bed; an' now,
boys, come an' let us dance the _Horo Lheig_ in the barn 'idout. But
you see, boys, before we go, an' in ordher that I may make everything
plain, I had as good tell you that Harry, in crossing the bridge of
Ballyboulteen, a couple of miles below Squire Bragshaw's demense-wall,
saw the pudden floatin' down the river--the truth is he was waitin'
for it; but be this as it may, he took it out, for the wather had made
it as clane as a new pin, and tuckin' it up in the tail of his big
coat, contrived, as you all guess, I suppose, to change it while Paddy
Scanlan an' the wife were examinin' the sky; an' for the other, he
contrived to bewitch it in the same manner, by gettin' a fairy to go
into it, for, indeed, it was purty well known that the same Harry was
hand an' glove wid the _good people_. Others will tell you that it was
half a pound of quicksilver he put into it; but that doesn't stand to
raison. At any rate, boys, I have tould you the adventures of the Mad
Pudden of Ballyboulteen; but I don't wish to tell you many other
things about it that happened--_for fraid I'd tell a lie_."[41]
[Footnote 38: Perhaps from Irish _dilse_--_i.e._, love.]
[Footnote 39: Put it under fairy influence.]
[Footnote 40: Irish, _cóta mór_.]
[Footnote 41: Some will insist that a fairy-man or fairy-woman has the
power to bewitch a pudding by putting a fairy into it; whilst others
maintain that a competent portion of quicksilver will make it dance
over half the parish.]