"Do you see that bit of a lake," said my companion, turning his eyes
towards the acclivity that overhung Loughleagh. "Troth, and as little
as you think of it, and as ugly as it looks with its weeds and its
flags, it is the most famous one in all Ireland. Young and ould, rich
and poor, far and near, have come to that lake to get cured of all
kinds of scurvy and sores. The Lord keep us our limbs whole and sound,
for it's a sorrowful thing not to have the use o' them. 'Twas but last
week we had a great grand Frenchman here; and, though he came upon
crutches, faith he went home sound as a bell; and well he paid Billy
Reily for curing him."
"And, pray, how did Billy Reily cure him?"
"Oh, well enough. He took his long pole, dipped it down to the bottom
of the lake, and brought up on the top of it as much plaster as would
do for a thousand sores!"
"What kind of plaster?"
"What kind of plaster? why, black plaster to be sure; for isn't the
bottom of the lake filled with a kind of black mud which cures all the
world?"
"Then it ought to be a famous lake indeed."
"Famous, and so it is," replied my companion, "but it isn't for its
cures neather that it is famous; for, sure, doesn't all the world know
there is a fine beautiful city at the bottom of it, where the good
people live just like Christians. Troth, it is the truth I tell you;
for _Shemus-a-sneidh_ saw it all when he followed his dun cow that was
stolen."
"Who stole her?"
"I'll tell you all about it:--Shemus was a poor gossoon, who lived on
the brow of the hill, in a cabin with his ould mother. They lived by
hook and by crook, one way and another, in the best way they could.
They had a bit of ground that gave 'em the preaty, and a little dun
cow that gave 'em the drop o' milk; and, considering how times go,
they weren't badly off, for Shemus was a handy gossoon to boot; and,
while minden the cow, cut heath and made brooms, which his mother
sould on a market-day, and brought home the bit o' tobaccy, the grain
of salt, and other nic-nackenes, which a poor body can't well do
widout. Once upon a time, however, Shemus went farther than usual up
the mountain, looken for long heath, for town's-people don't like to
stoop, and so like long handles to their brooms. The little dun cow
was a'most as cunning as a Christian sinner, and followed Shemus like
a lap-dog everywhere he'd go, so that she required little or no
herden. On this day she found nice picken on a round spot as green as
a leek; and, as poor Shemus was weary, as a body would be on a fine
summer's day, he lay down on the grass to rest himself, just as we're
resten ourselves on the cairn here. Begad, he hadn't long lain there,
sure enough, when, what should he see but whole loads of ganconers[45]
dancing about the place. Some o' them were hurlen, some kicking a
football, and others leaping a kick-step-and-a-lep. They were so
soople and so active that Shemus was highly delighted with the sport,
and a little tanned-skinned chap in a red cap pleased him better than
any o' them, bekase he used to tumble the other fellows like
mushrooms. At one time he had kept the ball up for as good as
half-an-hour, when Shemus cried out, 'Well done, my hurler!' The word
wasn't well out of his mouth when whap went the ball on his eye, and
flash went the fire. Poor Shemus thought he was blind, and roared out,
'Mille murdher!'[46] but the only thing he heard was a loud laugh.
'Cross o' Christ about us,' says he to himself, 'what is this for?'
and afther rubbing his eyes they came to a little, and he could see
the sun and the sky, and, by-and-by, he could see everything but his
cow and the mischievous ganconers. They were gone to their rath or
mote; but where was the little dun cow? He looked, and he looked, and
he might have looked from that day to this, bekase she wasn't to be
found, and good reason why--the ganconers took her away with 'em.
"Shemus-a-sneidh, however, didn't think so, but ran home to his mother.
"'Where is the cow, Shemus?' axed the ould woman.
"'Och, musha, bad luck to her,' said Shemus, 'I donna where she is!'
"'Is that an answer, you big blaggard, for the likes o' you to give
your poor ould mother?' said she.
"'Och, musha,' said Shemus, I don't kick up saich a _bollhous_ about
nothing. The ould cow is safe enough, I'll be bail, some place or
other, though I could find her if I put my eyes upon _kippeens_,[47]
and, speaking of eyes, faith, I had very good luck o' my side, or I
had naver a one to look after her.'
"'Why, what happened your eyes, agrah?' axed the ould woman.
"'Oh! didn't the ganconers--the Lord save us from all hurt and
harm!--drive their hurlen ball into them both! and sure I was stone
blind for an hour.'
"'And may be,' said the mother, 'the good people took our cow?'
"'No, nor the devil a one of them,' said Shemus, 'for, by the powers,
that same cow is as knowen as a lawyer, and wouldn't be such a fool as
to go with the ganconers while she could get such grass as I found for
her to-day.'"
In this way, continued my informant, they talked about the cow all
that night, and next mornen both o' them set off to look for her.
After searching every place, high and low, what should Shemus see
sticking out of a bog-hole but something very like the horns of his
little beast!
"Oh, mother, mother," said he, "I've found her!"
"Where, alanna?" axed the ould woman.
"In the bog-hole, mother," answered Shemus.
At this the poor ould creathure set up such a _pullallue_ that she
brought the seven parishes about her; and the neighbours soon pulled
the cow out of the bog-hole. You'd swear it was the same, and yet it
wasn't, as you shall hear by-and-by.
Shemus and his mother brought the dead beast home with them; and, after
skinnen her, hung the meat up in the chimney. The loss of the drop o'
milk was a sorrowful thing, and though they had a good deal of meat,
that couldn't last always; besides, the whole parish _faughed_ upon them
for eating the flesh of a beast that died without bleeden. But the
pretty thing was, they couldn't eat the meat after all, for when it was
boiled it was as tough as carrion, and as black as a turf. You might as
well think of sinking your teeth in an oak plank as into a piece of it,
and then you'd want to sit a great piece from the wall for fear of
knocking your head against it when pulling it through your teeth. At
last and at long run they were forced to throw it to the dogs, but the
dogs wouldn't smell to it, and so it was thrown into the ditch, where it
rotted. This misfortune cost poor Shemus many a salt tear, for he was
now obliged to work twice as hard as before, and be out cutten heath on
the mountain late and early. One day he was passing by this cairn with a
load of brooms on his back, when what should he see but the little dun
cow and two red-headed fellows herding her.
"That's my mother's cow," said Shemus-a-sneidh.
"No, it is not," said one of the chaps.
"But I say it is," said Shemus, throwing the brooms on the ground, and
seizing the cow by the horns. At that the red fellows drove her as
fast as they could to this steep place, and with one leap she bounced
over, with Shemus stuck fast to her horns. They made only one splash
in the lough, when the waters closed over 'em, and they sunk to the
bottom. Just as Shemus-a-sneidh thought that all was over with him, he
found himself before a most elegant palace built with jewels, and all
manner of fine stones. Though his eyes were dazzled with the splendour
of the place, faith he had gomsh[48] enough not to let go his holt,
but in spite of all they could do, he held his little cow by the
horns. He was axed into the palace, but wouldn't go.
The hubbub at last grew so great that the door flew open, and out
walked a hundred ladies and gentlemen, as fine as any in the land.
"What does this boy want?" axed one o' them, who seemed to be the
masther.
"I want my mother's cow," said Shemus.
"That's not your mother's cow," said the gentleman.
"Bethershin!"[49] cried Shemus-a-sneidh; "don't I know her as well as
I know my right hand?"
"Where did you lose her?" axed the gentleman. And so Shemus up and
tould him all about it: how he was on the mountain--how he saw the
good people hurlen--how the ball was knocked in his eye, and his cow
was lost.
"I believe you are right," said the gentleman, pulling out his purse,
"and here is the price of twenty cows for you."
"No, no," said Shemus, "you'll not catch ould birds wid chaff. I'll
have my cow and nothen else."
"You're a funny fellow," said the gentleman; "stop here and live in a
palace."
"I'd rather live with my mother."
"Foolish boy!" said the gentleman; "stop here and live in a palace."
"I'd rather live in my mother's cabin."
"Here you can walk through gardens loaded with fruit and flowers."
"I'd rather," said Shemus, "be cutting heath on the mountain."
"Here you can eat and drink of the best."
"Since I've got my cow, I can have milk once more with the praties."
"Oh!" cried the ladies, gathering round him, "sure you wouldn't take
away the cow that gives us milk for our tea?"
"Oh!" said Shemus, "my mother wants milk as bad as anyone, and she
must have it; so there is no use in your palaver--I must have my cow."
At this they all gathered about him and offered him bushels of gould,
but he wouldn't have anything but his cow. Seeing him as obstinate as
a mule, they began to thump and beat him; but still he held fast by
the horns, till at length a great blast of wind blew him out of the
place, and in a moment he found himself and the cow standing on the
side of the lake, the water of which looked as if it hadn't been
disturbed since Adam was a boy--and that's a long time since.
Well, Shemus-a-sneidh drove home his cow, and right glad his mother
was to see her; but the moment she said "God bless the beast," she
sunk down like the _breesha_[50] of a turf rick. That was the end of
Shemus-a-sneidh's dun cow.
"And, sure," continued my companion, standing up, "it is now time for
me to look after my brown cow, and God send the ganconers haven't
taken her!"
Of this I assured him there could be no fear; and so we parted.
[Footnote 44: _Dublin and London Magazine, 1825._]
[Footnote 45: Ir. _gean-canach_--_i.e._, love-talker, a kind of fairy
appearing in lonesome valleys, a dudeen (tobacco-pipe) in his mouth,
making love to milk-maids, etc.]
[Footnote 46: A thousand murders.]
[Footnote 47: Ir. _cipin_--_i.e._, a stick, a twig.] [Footnote 48:
Otherwise "gumshun--" _i.e._, sense, cuteness.]
[Footnote 49: Ir. _B'éidir sin_--_i.e._, "that is possible."]
[Footnote 50: Ir. _briscadh_--_i.e._, breaking.]