Och, I thought all the world, far and near, had heerd of King
O'Toole--well, well, but the darkness of mankind is untellable! Well,
sir, you must know, as you didn't hear it afore, that there was a
King, called King O'Toole, who was a fine old King in the old ancient
times, long ago; and it was he that owned the churches in the early
days. The King, you see was the right sort; he was the real boy, and
loved sport as he loved his life, and hunting in particular; and from
the rising o' the sun, up he got, and away he went over the mountains
after the deer; and fine times they were.
Well, it was all mighty good, as long as the King had his health; but,
you see, in the course of time the King grew old, by raison he was
stiff in his limbs, and when he got stricken in years, his heart
failed him, and he was lost entirely for want o' diversion, because he
couldn't go a-hunting no longer; and, by dad the poor King was obliged
at last to get a goose to divert him. Oh, you may laugh, if you like,
but it's truth I'm telling you; and the way the goose diverted him was
this-a-way: You see, the goose used to swim across the lake, and go
diving for trout, and catch fish on a Friday for the King, and flew
every other day round about the lake, diverting the poor King. All
went on mighty well until, by dad, the goose got stricken in years
like her master, and couldn't divert him no longer, and then it was
that the poor King was lost entirely. The King was walkin' one mornin'
by the edge of the lake, lamentin' his cruel fate, and thinking of
drowning himself, that could get no diversion in life, when all of
a sudden, turning round the corner, whom should he meet but a mighty
decent young man coming up to him.
"God save you," says the King to the young man.
"God save you kindly, King O'Toole," says the young man.
"True for you," says the King. "I am King O'Toole," says he, "prince
and plennypennytinchery of these parts," says he; "but how came ye to
know that?" says he.
"Oh, never mind," says Saint Kavin.
You see it was Saint Kavin, sure enough--the saint himself in
disguise, and nobody else. "Oh, never mind," says he, "I know more
than that. May I make bold to ask how is your goose, King O'Toole?"
says he.
"Blur-an-agers, how came ye to know about my goose?" says the King.
"Oh, no matter; I was given to understand it," says Saint Kavin.