and snatching up his sword from a corner of the room, he sprang out of
the window upon the lawn. In a moment a shout of laughter, so hollow,
so unlike any human sound, made him stop, as well as Mr. Bell, who
with a huge oak stick was close at the colonel's heels; others of the
party followed to the lawn, and the remainder rose and went to the
windows. 'Come on, colonel,' said Mr. Bell; 'let us catch this
impudent rascal.'
'Ho, ho! Mr. Bell, here I am--here's Teigue--why don't you catch him?
Ho, ho! Colonel Pratt, what a pretty soldier you are to draw your
sword upon poor Teigue, that never did anybody harm.'
'Let us see your face, you scoundrel,' said the colonel.
'Ho, ho, ho!--look at me--look at me: do you see the wind, Colonel
Pratt? you'll see Teigue as soon; so go in and finish your dinner.'
'If you're upon the earth, I'll find you, you villain!' said the
colonel, whilst the same unearthly shout of derision seemed to come
from behind an angle of the building. 'He's round that corner,' said
Mr. Bell, 'run, run.'
They followed the sound, which was continued at intervals along the
garden wall, but could discover no human being; at last both stopped
to draw breath, and in an instant, almost at their ears, sounded the
shout--
'Ho, ho, ho! Colonel Pratt, do you see Teigue now? do you hear him?
Ho, ho, ho! you're a fine colonel to follow the wind.'
'Not that way, Mr. Bell--not that way; come here,' said the colonel.
'Ho, ho, ho! what a fool you are; do you think Teigue is going to show
himself to you in the field, there? But, colonel, follow me if you
can: you a soldier! ho, ho, ho!' The colonel was enraged: he followed
the voice over hedge and ditch, alternately laughed at and taunted by
the unseen object of his pursuit (Mr. Bell, who was heavy, was soon
thrown out); until at length, after being led a weary chase, he found
himself at the top of the cliff, over that part of the river Lee,
which, from its great depth, and the blackness of its water, has
received the name of Hell-hole. Here, on the edge of the cliff, stood
the colonel out of breath, and mopping his forehead with his
handkerchief, while the voice, which seemed close at his feet,
exclaimed, 'Now, Colonel Pratt, now, if you're a soldier, here's a
leap for you! Now look at Teigue--why don't you look at him? Ho, ho,
ho! Come along; you're warm, I'm sure, Colonel Pratt, so come in and
cool yourself; Teigue is going to have a swim!' The voice seemed as if
descending amongst the trailing ivy and brushwood which clothes this
picturesque cliff nearly from top to bottom, yet it was impossible
that any human being could have found footing. 'Now, colonel, have you
courage to take the leap? Ho, ho, ho! what a pretty soldier you are.
Good-bye; I'll see you again in ten minutes above, at the house--look
at your watch, colonel: there's a dive for you'; and a heavy plunge
into the water was heard. The colonel stood still, but no sound
followed, and he walked slowly back to the house, not quite half a
mile from the Crag.
'Well, did you see Teigue?' said his brother, whilst his nephews,
scarcely able to smother their laughter, stood by.
'Give me some wine,' said the colonel. 'I never was led such a dance
in my life; the fellow carried me all round and round till he brought
me to the edge of the cliff, and then down he went into Hell-hole,
telling me he'd be here in ten minutes; 'tis more than that now, but
he's not come.'
'Ho, ho, ho! colonel, isn't he here? Teigue never told a lie in his
life: but, Mr. Pratt, give me a drink and my dinner, and then
good-night to you all, for I'm tired; and that's the colonel's
doing.' A plate of food was ordered; it was placed by John, with fear
and trembling, on the lawn under the window. Every one kept on the
watch, and the plate remained undisturbed for some time.
'Ah! Mr. Pratt, will you starve poor Teigue? Make every one go away
from the windows, and Master Henry out of the tree, and Master Richard
off the garden wall.'
The eyes of the company were turned to the tree and the garden wall;
the two boys' attention was occupied in getting down; the visitors
were looking at them; and 'Ho, ho, ho!--good luck to you, Mr. Pratt!
'tis a good dinner, and there's the plate, ladies and gentlemen.
Good-bye to you, colonel!--good-bye, Mr. Bell! good-bye to you all!'
brought their attention back, when they saw the empty plate lying on
the grass; and Teigue's voice was heard no more for that evening.
Many visits were afterwards paid by Teigue; but never was he seen, nor
was any discovery ever made of his person or character.
THE FAIRY GREYHOUND
Paddy M'Dermid was one of the most rollicking boys in the whole county
of Kildare. Fair or pattern[3] wouldn't be held barring he was in the
midst of it. He was in every place, like bad luck, and his poor little
farm was seldom sowed in season; and where he expected barley, there
grew nothing but weeds. Money became scarce in poor Paddy's pocket;
and the cow went after the pig, until nearly all he had was gone.
Lucky however for him, if he had _gomch_ (sense) enough to mind it, he
had a most beautiful dream one night as he lay tossicated (drunk) in
the Rath[4] of Monogue, because he wasn't able to come home. He dreamt
that, under the place where he lay, a pot of money was buried since
long before the memory of man. Paddy kept the dream to himself until
the next night, when, taking a spade and pickaxe, with a bottle of
holy water, he went to the Rath, and, having made a circle round the
place, commenced diggin' sure enough, for the bare life and sowl of
him thinkin' that he was made up for ever and ever. He had sunk about
twice the depth of his knees, when _whack_ the pickaxe struck against
a flag, and at the same time Paddy heard something breathe quite near
him. He looked up, and just fornent him there sat on his haunches a
comely-looking greyhound.
[Footnote 3: A merry-making in the honour of some patron saint.]
[Footnote 4: Raths are little fields enclosed by circular ditches.
They are thought to be the sheep-folds and dwellings of an ancient
people.]
[Illustration: "FORNENT HIM THERE SAT ON HIS HAUNCHES A COMELY-LOOKING
GREYHOUND." (_Page 71._)]
'God save you,' said Paddy, every hair in his head standing up as
straight as a sally twig.
'Save you kindly,' answered the greyhound--leaving out God, the beast,
bekase he was the divil. Christ defend us from ever seeing the likes
o' him.
'Musha, Paddy M'Dermid,' said he, 'what would you be looking after in
that grave of a hole you're diggin' there?'
'Faith, nothing at all, at all,' answered Paddy; bekase you see he
didn't like the stranger.
'Arrah, be easy now, Paddy M'Dermid,' said the greyhound; 'don't I
know very well what you are looking for?'
'Why then in truth, if you do, I may as well tell you at wonst,
particularly as you seem a civil-looking gentleman, that's not above
speaking to a poor gossoon like myself.' (Paddy wanted to butter him
up a bit.)
'Well then,' said the greyhound, 'come out here and sit down on this
bank,' and Paddy, like a gomulagh (fool), did as he was desired, but
had hardly put his brogue outside of the circle made by the holy
water, when the beast of a hound set upon him, and drove him out of
the Rath; for Paddy was frightened, as well he might, at the fire that
flamed from his mouth. But next night he returned, full sure the money
was there. As before, he made a circle, and touched the flag, when my
gentleman, the greyhound, appeared in the ould place.
'Oh ho,' said Paddy, 'you are there, are you? but it will be a long
day, I promise you, before you trick me again'; and he made another
stroke at the flag.
'Well, Paddy M'Dermid,' said the hound, 'since you will have money,
you must; but say, how much will satisfy you?'
Paddy scratched his conlaan, and after a while said--
'How much will your honour give me?' for he thought it better to be
civil.
'Just as much as you consider reasonable, Paddy M'Dermid.'
'Egad,' says Paddy to himself, 'there's nothing like axin' enough.'
'Say fifty thousand pounds,' said he. (He might as well have said a
hundred thousand, for I'll be bail the beast had money gulloure.)
'You shall have it,' said the hound; and then, after trotting away a
little bit, he came back with a crock full of guineas between his
paws.
'Come here and reckon them,' said he; but Paddy was up to him, and
refused to stir, so the crock was shoved alongside the blessed and
holy circle, and Paddy pulled it in, right glad to have it in his
clutches, and never stood still until he reached his own home, where
his guineas turned into little bones, and his ould mother laughed at
him. Paddy now swore vengeance against the deceitful beast of a
greyhound, and went next night to the Rath again, where, as before, he
met Mr. Hound.
'So you are here again, Paddy?' said he.
'Yes, you big blaggard,' said Paddy, 'and I'll never leave this place
until I pull out the pot of money that's buried here.'
'Oh, you won't,' said he. 'Well, Paddy M'Dermid, since I see you are
such a brave venturesome fellow I'll be after making you up if you
walk downstairs with me out of the could'; and sure enough it was
snowing like murder.
'Oh may I never see Athy if I do,' returned Paddy, 'for you only want
to be loading me with ould bones, or perhaps breaking my own, which
would be just as bad.'
''Pon honour,' said the hound, 'I am your friend; and so don't stand
in your own light; come with me and your fortune is made. Remain where
you are and you'll die a beggar-man.' So bedad, with one palaver and
another, Paddy consented; and in the middle of the Rath opened up a
beautiful staircase, down which they walked; and after winding and
turning they came to a house much finer than the Duke of Leinster's,
in which all the tables and chairs were solid gold. Paddy was
delighted; and after sitting down, a fine lady handed him a glass of
something to drink; but he had hardly swallowed a spoonful when all
around set up a horrid yell, and those who before appeared beautiful
now looked like what they were--enraged 'good people' (fairies).
Before Paddy could bless himself, they seized him, legs and arms,
carried him out to a great high hill that stood like a wall over a
river, and flung him down. 'Murder!' cried Paddy; but it was no use,
no use; he fell upon a rock, and lay there as dead until next morning,
where some people found him in the trench that surrounds the _mote_ of
Coulhall, the 'good people' having carried him there; and from that
hour to the day of his death he was the greatest object in the world.
He walked double, and had his mouth (God bless us) where his ear
should be.
THE LADY OF GOLLERUS
BY CROFTON CROKER
On the shore of Smerwick harbour, one fine summer's morning, just at
daybreak, stood Dick Fitzgerald 'shoghing the dudeen,' which may be
translated, smoking his pipe. The sun was gradually rising behind the
lofty Brandon, the dark sea was getting green in the light, and the
mists clearing away out of the valleys went rolling and curling like
the smoke from the corner of Dick's mouth.
''Tis just the pattern of a pretty morning,' said Dick, taking the
pipe from between his lips, and looking towards the distant ocean,
which lay as still and tranquil as a tomb of polished marble. 'Well,
to be sure,' continued he, after a pause, ''tis mighty lonesome to be
talking to one's self by way of company, and not to have another soul
to answer one--nothing but the child of one's own voice, the echo! I
know this, that if I had the luck, or may be the misfortune,' said
Dick, with a melancholy smile, 'to have the woman, it would not be
this way with me! and what in the wide world is a man without a wife?
He's no more surely than a bottle without a drop of drink in it, or
dancing without music, or the left leg of a scissors, or a
fishing-line without a hook, or any other matter that is no ways
complete. Is it not so?' said Dick Fitzgerald, casting his eyes
towards a rock upon the strand, which, though it could not speak,
stood up as firm and looked as bold as ever Kerry witness did.
But what was his astonishment at beholding, just at the foot of that
rock, a beautiful young creature combing her hair, which was of a
sea-green colour; and now the salt water shining on it appeared, in
the morning light, like melted butter upon cabbage.
Dick guessed at once that she was a Merrow,[5] although he had never
seen one before, for he spied the _cohuleen driuth_, or little
enchanted cap, which the sea people use for diving down into the
ocean, lying upon the strand near her; and he had heard that, if once
he could possess himself of the cap she would lose the power of going
away into the water: so he seized it with all speed, and she, hearing
the noise, turned her head about as natural as any Christian.
[Footnote 5: Sea fairy.]
When the Merrow saw that her little diving-cap was gone, the salt
tears--doubly salt, no doubt, from her--came trickling down her
cheeks, and she began a low mournful cry with just the tender voice
of a new-born infant. Dick, although he knew well enough what she was
crying for, determined to keep the _cohuleen driuth_, let her cry
never so much, to see what luck would come out of it. Yet he could not
help pitying her; and when the dumb thing looked up in his face, with
her cheeks all moist with tears, 'twas enough to make any one feel,
let alone Dick, who had ever and always, like most of his countrymen,
a mighty tender heart of his own.
'Don't cry, my darling,' said Dick Fitzgerald; but the Merrow, like
any bold child, only cried the more for that.
Dick sat himself down by her side, and took hold of her hand by way of
comforting her. 'Twas in no particular an ugly hand, only there was a
small web between the fingers, as there is in a duck's foot; but 'twas
as thin and as white as the skin between egg and shell.
'What's your name, my darling?' says Dick, thinking to make her
conversant with him; but he got no answer; and he was certain sure
now, either that she could not speak, or did not understand him: he
therefore squeezed her hand in his, as the only way he had of talking
to her. It's the universal language; and there's not a woman in the
world, be she fish or lady, that does not understand it.
The Merrow did not seem much displeased at this mode of conversation;
and making an end of her whining all at once, 'Man,' says she, looking
up in Dick Fitzgerald's face; 'man, will you eat me?'
'By all the red petticoats and check aprons between Dingle and
Tralee,' cried Dick, jumping up in amazement, 'I'd as soon eat myself,
my jewel! Is it I eat you, my pet? Now, 'twas some ugly ill-looking
thief of a fish put that notion into your own pretty head, with the
nice green hair down upon it, that is so cleanly combed out this
morning!'
'Man,' said the Merrow, 'what will you do with me if you won't eat
me?'
Dick's thoughts were running on a wife: he saw, at the first glimpse,
that she was handsome; but since she spoke, and spoke too like any
real woman, he was fairly in love with her. 'Twas the neat way she
called him man that settled the matter entirely.
'Fish,' says Dick, trying to speak to her after her own short fashion;
'fish,' says he, 'here's my word, fresh and fasting, for you this
blessed morning, that I'll make you Mistress Fitzgerald before all the
world, and that's what I'll do.'
'Never say the word twice,' says she; 'I'm ready and willing to be
yours, Mister Fitzgerald; but stop, if you please, till I twist up my
hair.' It was some time before she had settled it entirely to her
liking; for she guessed, I suppose, that she was going among
strangers, where she would be looked at. When that was done, the
Merrow put the comb in her pocket, and then bent down her head and
whispered some words to the water that was close to the foot of the
rock.
Dick saw the murmur of the words upon the top of the sea, going out
towards the wide ocean, just like a breath of wind rippling along,
and, says he, in the greatest wonder, 'Is it speaking you are, my
darling, to the salt water?'
'It's nothing else,' says she, quite carelessly; 'I'm just sending
word home to my father not to be waiting breakfast for me; just to
keep him from being uneasy in his mind.'
'And who's your father, my duck?' said Dick.
'What!' said the Merrow, 'did you never hear of my father? he's the
king of the waves to be sure!'
'And yourself, then, is a real king's daughter?' said Dick, opening
his two eyes to take a full and true survey of his wife that was to
be. 'Oh, I'm nothing else but a made man with you, and a king your
father; to be sure he has all the money that's down at the bottom of
the sea!'
'Money,' repeated the Merrow, 'what's money?'
''Tis no bad thing to have when one wants it,' replied Dick; 'and may
be now the fishes have the understanding to bring up whatever you bid
them?'
'Oh yes,' said the Merrow, 'they bring me what I want.'
'To speak the truth then,' said Dick, ''tis a straw bed I have at home
before you, and that, I'm thinking, is no ways fitting for a king's
daughter; so if 'twould not be displeasing to you, just to mention a
nice feather bed, with a pair of new blankets--but what am I talking
about? may be you have not such things as beds down under the water?'
'By all means,' said she, 'Mr. Fitzgerald--plenty of beds at your
service. I've fourteen oyster-beds of my own, not to mention one just
planting for the rearing of young ones.'
'You have?' says Dick, scratching his head and looking a little
puzzled. ''Tis a feather bed I was speaking of; but, clearly, yours is
the very cut of a decent plan to have bed and supper so handy to each
other, that a person when they'd have the one need never ask for the
other.'
However, bed or no bed, money or no money, Dick Fitzgerald determined
to marry the Merrow, and the Merrow had given her consent. Away they
went, therefore, across the strand, from Gollerus to Ballinrunnig,
where Father Fitzgibbon happened to be that morning.
'There are two words to this bargain, Dick Fitzgerald,' said his
Reverence, looking mighty glum. 'And is it a fishy woman you'd marry?
The Lord preserve us! Send the scaly creature home to her own people;
that's my advice to you, wherever she came from.'
Dick had the _cohuleen driuth_ in his hand, and was about to give it
back to the Merrow, who looked covetously at it, but he thought for a
moment, and then says he, 'Please your Reverence, she's a king's
daughter.'
'If she was the daughter of fifty kings,' said Father Fitzgibbon, 'I
tell you, you can't marry her, she being a fish.'
'Please your Reverence,' said Dick again, in an undertone, 'she is as
mild and as beautiful as the moon.'
'If she was as mild and as beautiful as the sun, moon, and stars, all
put together, I tell you, Dick Fitzgerald,' said the Priest, stamping
his right foot, 'you can't marry her, she being a fish.'
'But she has all the gold that's down in the sea only for the asking,
and I'm a made man if I marry her; and,' said Dick, looking up slily,
'I can make it worth any one's while to do the job.'
'Oh! that alters the case entirely,' replied the Priest; 'why there's
some reason now in what you say: why didn't you tell me this before?
marry her by all means, if she was ten times a fish. Money, you know,
is not to be refused in these bad times, and I may as well have the
hansel of it as another, that may be would not take half the pains in
counselling you that I have done.'
So Father Fitzgibbon married Dick Fitzgerald to the Merrow, and like
any loving couple, they returned to Gollerus well pleased with each
other. Everything prospered with Dick--he was at the sunny side of the
world; the Merrow made the best of wives, and they lived together in
the greatest contentment.
It was wonderful to see, considering where she had been brought up,
how she would busy herself about the house, and how well she nursed
the children; for, at the end of three years there were as many young
Fitzgeralds--two boys and a girl.
In short, Dick was a happy man, and so he might have been to the end
of his days if he had only had the sense to take care of what he had
got; many another man, however, beside Dick, has not had wit enough to
do that.
One day, when Dick was obliged to go to Tralee, he left the wife
minding the children at home after him, and thinking she had plenty to
do without disturbing his fishing-tackle.
Dick was no sooner gone than Mrs. Fitzgerald set about cleaning up the
house, and chancing to pull down a fishing-net, what should she find
behind it in a hole in the wall but her own _cohuleen driuth_. She
took it out and looked at it, and then she thought of her father the
king, and her mother the queen, and her brothers and sisters, and she
felt a longing to go back to them.
She sat down on a little stool and thought over the happy days she had
spent under the sea; then she looked at her children, and thought on
the love and affection of poor Dick, and how it would break his heart
to lose her. 'But,' says she, 'he won't lose me entirely, for I'll
come back to him again, and who can blame me for going to see my
father and my mother after being so long away from them?'
She got up and went towards the door, but came back again to look once
more at the child that was sleeping in the cradle. She kissed it
gently, and as she kissed it a tear trembled for an instant in her eye
and then fell on its rosy cheek. She wiped away the tear, and turning
to the eldest little girl, told her to take good care of her brothers,
and to be a good child herself until she came back. The Merrow then
went down to the strand. The sea was lying calm and smooth, just
heaving and glittering in the sun, and she thought she heard a faint
sweet singing, inviting her to come down. All her old ideas and
feelings came flooding over her mind, Dick and her children were at
the instant forgotten, and placing the _cohuleen driuth_ on her head
she plunged in.
Dick came home in the evening, and missing his wife he asked Kathleen,
his little girl, what had become of her mother, but she could not tell
him. He then inquired of the neighbours, and he learned that she was
seen going towards the strand with a strange-looking thing like a
cocked hat in her hand. He returned to his cabin to search for the
_cohuleen driuth_. It was gone, and the truth now flashed upon him.
Year after year did Dick Fitzgerald wait expecting the return of his
wife, but he never saw her more. Dick never married again, always
thinking that the Merrow would sooner or later return to him, and
nothing could ever persuade him but that her father the king kept her
below by main force; 'for,' said Dick, 'she surely would not of
herself give up her husband and her children.'
While she was with him she was so good a wife in every respect that to
this day she is spoken of in the tradition of the country as the
pattern for one, under the name of THE LADY OF GOLLERUS.
EVIL SPIRITS
THE DEVIL'S MILL
BY SAMUEL LOVER
You see, sir, there was a colonel wanst, in times back, that owned a
power of land about here--but God keep uz, they said he didn't come by
it honestly, but did a crooked turn whenever 'twas to sarve himself.
Well, the story goes that at last the divil (God bless us) kem to him,
and promised him hapes o' money, and all his heart could desire and
more, too, if he'd sell his sowl in exchange.
He was too cunnin' for that; bad as he was--and he was bad enough God
knows--he had some regard for his poor sinful sowl, and he would not
give himself up to the divil, all out; but, the villain, he thought he
might make a bargain with the _old chap_, and get all he wanted, and
keep himself out of harm's way still: for he was mighty 'cute--and,
throth, he was able for Owld Nick any day.
Well, the bargain was struck, and it was this-a-way: the divil was to
give him all the goold ever he'd ask for, and was to let him alone as
long as he could; and the timpter promised him a long day, and said
'twould be a great while before he'd want him at all, at all; and whin
that time kem, he was to keep his hands aff him, as long as the other
could give him some work he couldn't do.
So, when the bargain was made, 'Now,' says the colonel to the divil,
'give me all the money I want.'
'As much as you like,' says Owld Nick; 'how much will you have?'
'You must fill me that room,' says he, pointin' into a murtherin' big
room that he emptied out on purpose--'you must fill that room,' says
he, 'up to the very ceilin' with goolden guineas.'
'And welkem,' says the divil.
With that, sir, he began to shovel the guineas into the room like mad;
and the colonel towld him, that as soon as he was done, to come to him
in his own parlour below, and that he would then go up and see if the
divil was as good as his word, and had filled the room with the
goolden guineas. So the colonel went downstairs, and the owld fellow
worked away as busy as a nailer, shovellin' in the guineas by
hundherds and thousands.