Long ago, in the old time, there came a party of gentlemen from Dublin to
Loch Glynn a-hunting and a-fishing. They put up in the priest’s house, as
there was no inn in the little village.
The first day they went a-hunting, they went into the Wood of Driminuch,
and it was not long till they routed a hare. They fired many a ball
after him, but they could not bring him down. They followed him till they
saw him going into a little house in the wood.
When they came to the door, they saw a great black dog, and he would not
let them in.
“Put a ball through the beggar,” said a man of them. He let fly a ball,
but the dog caught it in his mouth, chewed it, and flung it on the
ground. They fired another ball, and another, but the dog did the same
thing with them. Then he began barking as loud as he could, and it was
not long till there came out a hag, and every tooth in her head as long
as the tongs. “What are you doing to my pup?” says the hag.
“A hare went into your house, and this dog won’t let us in after him,”
says a man of the hunters.
“Lie down, pup,” said the hag. Then she said: “Ye can come in if ye
wish.” The hunters were afraid to go in, but a man of them asked: “Is
there any person in the house with you?”
“There are six sisters,” said the old woman. “We should like to see
them,” said the hunters. No sooner had he said the word than the six old
women came out, and each of them with teeth as long as the other. Such a
sight the hunters had never seen before.
They went through the wood then, and they saw seven vultures on one tree,
and they screeching. The hunters began cracking balls after them, but if
they were in it ever since they would never bring down one of them.
There came a gray old man to them and said: “Those are the hags of the
long tooth that are living in the little house over there. Do ye not know
that they are under enchantment? They are there these hundreds of years,
and they have a dog that never lets in anyone to the little house. They
have a castle under the lake, and it is often the people saw them making
seven swans of themselves, and going into the lake.”
When the hunters came home that evening they told everything they heard
and saw to the priest, but he did not believe the story.
On the day on the morrow, the priest went with the hunters, and when they
came near the little house they saw the big black dog at the door. The
priest put his conveniencies for blessing under his neck, and drew out
a book and began reading prayers. The big dog began barking loudly. The
hags came out, and when they saw the priest they let a screech out of
them that was heard in every part of Ireland. When the priest was a while
reading, the hags made vultures of themselves and flew up into a big tree
that was over the house.
The priest began pressing in on the dog until he was within a couple of
feet of him.
The dog gave a leap up, struck the priest with its four feet, and put him
head over heels.
When the hunters took him up he was deaf and dumb, and the dog did not
move from the door.
They brought the priest home and sent for the bishop. When he came
and heard the story there was great grief on him. The people gathered
together and asked of him to banish the hags of enchantment out of the
wood. There was fright and shame on him, and he did not know what he
would do, but he said to them: “I have no means of banishing them till I
go home, but I will come at the end of a month and banish them.”
The priest was too badly hurt to say anything. The big black dog was
father of the hags, and his name was Dermod O’Muloony. His own son killed
him, because he found him with his wife the day after their marriage, and
killed the sisters for fear they should tell on him.
One night the bishop was in his chamber asleep, when one of the hags of
the long tooth opened the door and came in. When the bishop wakened up he
saw the hag standing by the side of his bed. He was so much afraid he was
not able to speak a word until the hag spoke and said to him: “Let there
be no fear on you; I did not come to do you harm, but to give you advice.
You promised the people of Loch Glynn that you would come to banish the
hags of the long tooth out of the wood of Driminuch. If you come you will
never go back alive.”
His talk came to the bishop, and he said: “I cannot break my word.”
“We have only a year and a day to be in the wood,” said the hag, “and you
can put off the people until then.”
“Why are ye in the woods as ye are?” says the bishop.
“Our brother killed us,” said the hag, “and when we went before the
arch-judge, there was judgment passed on us, we to be as we are two
hundred years. We have a castle under the lake, and be in it every night.
We are suffering for the crime our father did.” Then she told him the
crime the father did.
“Hard is your case,” said the bishop, “but we must put up with the will
of the arch-judge, and I shall not trouble ye.”
“You will get an account, when we are gone from the wood,” said the hag.
Then she went from him.
In the morning, the day on the morrow, the bishop came to Loch Glynn. He
sent out notice and gathered the people. Then he said to them: “It is
the will of the arch-king that the power of enchantment be not banished
for another year and a day, and ye must keep out of the wood until then.
It is a great wonder to me that ye never saw the hags of enchantment till
the hunters came from Dublin.—It’s a pity they did not remain at home.”
About a week after that the priest was one day by himself in his chamber
alone. The day was very fine and the window was open. The robin of the
red breast came in and a little herb in its mouth. The priest stretched
out his hand, and she laid the herb down on it. “Perhaps it was God sent
me this herb,” said the priest to himself, and he ate it. He had not
eaten it one moment till he was as well as ever he was, and he said:
“A thousand thanks to Him who has power stronger than the power of
enchantment.”
Then said the robin: “Do you remember the robin of the broken foot you
had, two years this last winter.”
“I remember her, indeed,” said the priest, “but she went from me when the
summer came.”
“I am the same robin, and but for the good you did me I would not be
alive now, and you would be deaf and dumb throughout your life. Take my
advice now, and do not go near the hags of the long tooth any more, and
do not tell to any person living that I gave you the herb.” Then she flew
from him.
When the house-keeper came she wondered to find that he had both his talk
and his hearing. He sent word to the bishop and he came to Loch Glynn.
He asked the priest how it was that he got better so suddenly. “It is a
secret,” said the priest, “but a certain friend gave me a little herb and
it cured me.”
Nothing else happened worth telling, till the year was gone. One night
after that the bishop was in his chamber when the door opened, and the
hag of the long tooth walked in, and said: “I come to give you notice
that we will be leaving the wood a week from to-day. I have one thing to
ask of you if you will do it for me.”
“If it is in my power, and it not to be against the faith,” said the
bishop.
“A week from to-day,” said the hag, “there will be seven vultures dead at
the door of our house in the wood. Give orders to bury them in the quarry
that is between the wood and Ballyglas; that is all I am asking of you.”
“I shall do that if I am alive,” said the bishop. Then she left him, and
he was not sorry she to go from him.
A week after that day, the bishop came to Loch Glynn, and the day after
he took men with him and went to the hags’ house in the wood of Driminuch.
The big black dog was at the door, and when he saw the bishop he began
running and never stopped until he went into the lake.
He saw the seven vultures dead at the door, and he said to the men: “Take
them with you and follow me.”
They took up the vultures and followed him to the brink of the quarry.
Then he said to them: “Throw them into the quarry: There is an end to the
hags of the enchantment.”
As soon as the men threw them down to the bottom of the quarry, there
rose from it seven swans as white as snow, and flew out of their sight.
It was the opinion of the bishop and of every person who heard the story
that it was up to heaven they flew, and that the big black dog went to
the castle under the lake.
At any rate, nobody saw the hags of the long tooth or the big black dog
from that out, any more.