xt7j3t9d5d8t https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7j3t9d5d8t/data/mets.xml Frost, William Henry, 1863-1902. 1900  books b92-229-31183801 English Charles Scribner's Sons, : New York : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Folklore Ireland. Fairy tales.Burleigh, Sydney Richmond, 1853-1931. Fairies and folk of Ireland  / by William Henry Frost ; illustrated by Sydney Richmond Burleigh. text Fairies and folk of Ireland  / by William Henry Frost ; illustrated by Sydney Richmond Burleigh. 1900 2002 true xt7j3t9d5d8t section xt7j3t9d5d8t 















FAIRIES AND FOLK OF IRELAND

 


















    BY THE SAME AUTHOR


FAIRIES AND FOLK OF IRELAND.
  1.50.

THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND
  TABLE. ,.50.

THE COURT OF KING ARTHUR.
  1.50.

THE WAGNER STORY BOOK. 1.50.

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K

 



FAIRIES AND FOLK

     OF IRELAND






              BY
      WILLIAM HENRY FROST



ILLUSTRATED BY SYDNEY RICHMOND BURLEIGH






          NEW YORK
  CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
            1900

 










































      COPYRIGHT, 1900, B3Y

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

































          TRO  DIRECTORY
   PRIN4TING AND BOOKBNDI G COMPAN
             HEWYOR

 















              to
,3ane (Brep (4ffen oSfi d aftlefo "Bfen

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               CONTENTS


                                        PAGE
  I. O'DONOcHUE     .   .    .     .   , I

  [I. THE BIG POOR PEOPLE .   .    .   . 15

  III. THE LITTLE GooD PEOPLE  .    .   . 43

  IV. THE CLEVERNESS OF' MTORTALS  .  .  . 69

  V. THE TimE FOR NAGENEEN'S PLAN  .   . 109

  VI. LITTLE KATHLEEN AND LITTLE TERENCE . 128

Vii. A CHAPTER THAT YOU CAN SKIP .  .   144

VIII. THE STARS IN THE WATER.   .   .  . 177

IX. A YEAR AND A DAY   .   .  .   .   . 219

X. THE IRON CRUCIFIX  .   .   .   .  . 252

XI. THE OLD KING COMES BACK   .   .   . 279

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       LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS



"'IS IT TIME' THE WARRIOR SAID"  -  .  Frontipiece
                                           PAGE
"THROUGH THE FLYING WATER I SAW THE OLD KING" .  I
"'BLESSED DAYS THERE WERE,' SHE SAID" .  Facing  8
"THEY WERE CHANGED INTO FOUR BEAUTIFUL WHITE
   SWAN S15
"WILL YOU HAVE A LIGHT FOR YOUR PIPE, YOUR

   MAJESTY ".43
"I WAS SITTIN' THERE, WID A SPIGGOT OVER ME SHOUL-
   DER" ..Facing 56
"THE HORSE WAS NOTHING BUT THE BEAM OF A PLOUGH " 69

"WHERE ARE YOU BOUND IN THAT SHIP " .  Facing 72
"HERE'S THE POPE'S BULL FOR THAT SAME.".  Facing I02
"SHE KNEW THAT THERE WERE GOOD PEOPLE HERE" . 109

"'PAT,' SAYS HE, 'BRING ME A PIPE'"' .  .  .  . 128
" PLUMP DOWN HE FELL THROUGH THE QUILT " Facing 138
"AND THEN DONALD WENT HOME"    .  .   .   . 144
"THERE'S A BLESSING ON THIS SAME SACK" .  Facing i64
"THERE WAS A WOMAN LYING ON A GOLD COUCH"    . I77
"HE FORGOT THE PSALM THAT HE HAD BEEN READING " 219
"HOLD THE SPEAR STRAIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU" Facing 250
"THE NET WAS PULLED AWAY FROM HIM".   .   . 252
" HE SAYS THAT I AM NEVER TO BE AFRAID OF THEM " 279

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  "SHOULD YOU ASK ME, WHENCE
           THESE STORIES"

  THE story which runs through and makes up
the bulk of this book is my own. The intention
has been, however, to make it conform to
the laws governing certain beings commonly
regarded in this country as mythical, as those laws
arc revealed in the folk-lore of many peoples, and
particularly of the Irish people. Almost every
incident in which the fairies are concerned might
occur, and very many of them do actually occur,
in Irish folk-lore. But in a real folk-tale there are
usually only two or three, or, at any rate, only a
few, of the characteristic incidents, while this
story attempts to combine many of them.
  The shorter stories wherewith the main story
is interspersed are all, to the best of my informa-
tion an(l belief, genuine Irish folk-tales. I have
told them in my own way, of course. I have
sometimes condensed and sometimes elaborated
them, but I have seldom, if ever, I think,
materially changed their substance. I have never
                     xi

 



Should You Ask Me,



had the opportunity to collect such stories as
these for myself, and if I had, I should probably
find that I had not the ability. I have therefore
had to turn for the substance of these tales to
collections made by others-men whose patient
and affectionate care and labor have preserved a
great mass of the beautiful Irish legends, which,
without them, might have died.
  It seems hardly right to give to any one of these
collectors a preference over the others by naming
him first. But when I count up my indebtedness,
I find that the book to which I owe more stories
than to any other is Patrick Kennedy's " Legend-
ary Fictions of the Irish Celts." From this book
I have borrowed, as to their substance, the story
of Earl Gerald, in Chapter II. of my own book;
the story of the children of Lir, in the same
chapter; the account of the changeling who was
tempted by the bagpipes, which Naggeneen tells
of himself, in Chapter V.; the changeling story
which Mrs. O'Brien tells, in Chapter VI.; and the
most of the story of Gisin, in Chapter IX., besides
part of the story of the fairies' tune, in Chapter
VII. With respect to Oisin I got a little help
from an article on "The Neo-Latin Fay," by
Henry Charles Coote, in " The Folk-Lore
Record," Vol. II. The story of the fairies' tune is
in part derived from T. Crofton Croker's " Fairy



xii

 


Whence These Stories  



Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland."
This delightful book as well deserves the first
place in my list as does Kennedy's, for it gave
me one of my most important stories, that of
O'Donoghue, in Chapter I., and it gave me Nag-
geneen. Him I first saw, with Mr. Croker's help,
sitting on the cask of port in the cellar of
old MacCarthy of Ballinacarthy, as he himself
describes in Chapter III. It is not enough to say
that after that lie came readily into my story; he
simply could not be kept out of it. The tale of
the fairies who wanted to question a priest, in
Chapter X., is also from Croker. Mrs. O'Brien's
method of getting rid of a changeling is founded
on one of Croker's stories, and a story almost
exactly like it is told by Grimm. There is also
a form of it in Brittany. Two books by W. B.
Yeats have been of much value-" Irish Fairy
and Folk Tales " and " The Celtic Twilight." Of
the former Mr. Yeats is the editor, rather than, in
a strict sense, the author, though it contains some
of his own work, and his introduction, notes, and
other comments are of great interest. From this
book I have the story of Hudden, Dudden, and
Donald, in Chapter VII. Mr. Yeats reproduces
it from an old chap-book. A version of it is also
found in Samuel Lover's " Legends and Stories
of Ireland." Those who like to compare the



Xi. .

 


Should You Ask Me,



stories which they find in various places will not
fail to note its likeness to Hans Christian Ander-
sen's " Big Claus and Little Claus." The story
of the monk and the bird, in Chapter IX., Mr.
Yeats reproduces from Croker, though not from
the work of his which has already been men-
tioned. I could not resist the temptation to
better the story, as I thought, by the addition of
an incident from a German version of it, and
everybody will remember the beautiful form in
which it appears in Longfellow's " The Golden
Legend." From Mr. Yeats's " The Celtic Twi-
light " I have the little story of the conversation
between the diver and the conger, in Chapter
II. It is a pleasure to refer to two such fine and
scholarly works as Dr. Douglas Hyde's " Beside
the Fire " and William Larminie's " West Irish
Folk-Tales an(l Romances." From the former of
these I have borrowed the substance of the story
of Guleesh na Guss Dhu, in Chapter IV., and
from the latter that of the ghost and his wives, in
Chapter VII.
  Having thus confessed my indebtedness, it
would seem that my next duty was to pay it. I
fear that I can pay it only with thanks. I have
not taken a story from the work of any
living collector without his permission. It thus
becomes my pleasure, no less than my duty, to



xiv

 


Whence These Stories 



express my gratitude to Mr. Yeats for permission
to use the stories in " Irish Fairy and Folk
Tales " and " The Celtic Twilight; " to Dr. Hyde
for his permission to take what I chose from
" Beside the Fire," and to Mr. Larminie and his
publisher, Elliott Stock, for the same permission
with regard to his " West Irish Folk-Tales and
Romances." My thanks are equally due to Mac-
millan & Co., Limited, for permission to take
stories from Kennedy's " Legendary Fictions of
the Irish Celts," the rights to which they own. I
wish to say also that in each of these cases the
permission asked has been given with a readiness
and a cordiality no less pleasing than the permis-
sion itself.
  I have learned much concerning the ways of
Irish fairies from Lady Wilde's " Ancient
Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of
Ireland " and " Ancient Cures, Charms, and
Usages of Ireland," and I have gained not a little
from the books of William Carleton, especially
his " Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry,"
but from none of these have I taken any con-
siderable part of a story. Indeed I have found
help, greater or less, in more books than I can
name here.
  It may seem by this time that I am like the
lawyer who conceded this and that to his



xv

 


xvi       Whence These Slories 

opponent till the judge said: " Do not concede
any more; you conceded your whole case long
ago." But I have not conceded my whole case.
I have used the threads which others have spun,
but I have done my own weaving. The shorter
stories have been told before, but they have never
been put together in this way before. and, as
I said at first, the main story is my own.
                                  W. H. F.
 NEW YORK, September I, 1900.

 














   FAIRIES AND FOLK

          OF IRE LAND


                     I
               O'DONOGHUE
  IT was in a poor little cabin somewhere in Ire-
land. It does not matter where. The walls were
of rough stone, the roof was of thatch, and the
floor was the hard earth. There was very little
furniture. Poor as it was, the whole place was
clean. It is right to tell this, because, unhappily,
a good many cabins in Ireland are not clean.
What furniture there was had been rubbed
smooth and spotless, and the few dishes that
there were fairly shone. The floor wlas as care-
fully swept as if the Queen wCere expected.
The three persons who lived in the cabin had

 


2     Fairies and Folk of Ireland



eaten their supper of potatoes and milk and were
sitting before the turf fire. It had been a poor
supper, yet a little of it that was left-a few pota-
toes, a little milk, and a dish of fresh water-had
been placed on a bench outside the door. There
was no light except that of the fire. There was
no need of any other, and there was no money to
spend on candles that were not needed.
  The three who sat before the fire, arid needed
no other light, were a young man, a young
woman, and an elderly woman. She did not like
to be called old, for she said, and quite truly,
that sixty was not old for anybody who felt
as young as she did. This woman was Mrs.
O'Brien. The young man was her son, John,
and the young woman was his wife, Kitty.
  ' Kitty," said John, " it's not well you're
lookin' to-night. Are ye feelin' anyways worse
than common "
  " It's only a bit tired I am," said Kitty, " wid
the work I was afther doin' all day. I'll be as
well as ever in the morning."
  '; It's a shame, that it is," said John, " that ye
have to be workin' that way, day afther day, and
you not sthrong at all. It's a shame that I can't
do enough for the three of us, and the more,
maybe, that there'll be, but you must be at it,
too, all the time."
  " What nonsinse ye're talkin, John," Kitty

 


O'Donqog/zue  



answered. " What would I be doin', settin' up
here like a lady, doin' nothin', and you and
mother workin' away like you was my servants
Did you think it was a duchess or the daughter
of the Lord Lieutenant ye was marryin', that
ye're talkin' that way"
  "And it'll be worse a long time before it's
betther," John went on. " Wid the three of us
workin' all the time, we just barely get along.
And it's the end of the summer now. What we'll
do at all when the winter comes. I dunno.''
  The older woman listened to the others and
said nothing. Perhaps she had heard such talk
as this so many times that she did not care to
join in it again, or perhaps she was waiting to be
asked to speak. For it was to her that these
younger people always turned when they were in
trouble. It was her advice and her opinion that
they always asked when they felt that they
needed a better opinion than their own. The
three sat silent now for a time, and then John
broke out, as if the talk had been going on in his
mind all the while: " What's the good of us
tryin' to live at all " he said. " Is livin' any use
to us We (lo nothin' but work all day. and eat a
little to give us the strength to work the next
day, andl then we sleep all night, if we can sleep.
And it's that and nothing else all the year
througth. Are we any better when the year



3

 



4     Fazrzes and Folk of Ireland



ends than we were when it began If we've paid
the rent, we've done well. We never do more."
  " John," the old woman answered, " it's not
for us to say why we're here or what for we're
living. It's God that put us here, and He'll keep
us here till it's our time to go. He has made it
the way of all His creatures to provide for them-
selves and for their own, and to keep themselves
alive while they can. When He's ready for us to
die, we die. That's all we know. The rest is with
Him."
  " I know all that's true, mother," said John;
"but what is there for us to hope for, that we'ld
wish to live It's nothing but work to keep the
roof over us. We don't even eat for any pleasure
that's in it-only so that we can work. If we
rested for a dlay, we'ld be driven out of our house.
If we rested for another day, we'ld starve. Is
there any good to be hoped for such as us Will
there ever be any good times for Ireland I
mean for all the people in it."
  " There will," the old woman said. " Every-
thing has an end, and so these troubles of ours
will end, and all the troubles of Ireland will end,
too."
  "And why should we believe that" John
asked again. " Wasn't Ireland always the poor,
unhappy country, and all the people in it, only
the landlords and the agents, and why should we
think it will ever be better "

 


O'Douog/hue  



  "Everything has an end," the old woman
repeated. ' Ireland was not always the unhappy
country. It was happy once and it will be happy
again. It's not you, John O'Brien, that ought
to be forgetting the good days of Ireland, long
ago though they were. For you yourself are
the descendant of King Brian Boru, and you
know well, for it's many times I've told you, how
in his days the country was happy and peaceful
and blessed.  He drove out the heathen and
saved the country for his people. He had strict
laws, and the people obeyed them. In his days
a lovely girl, dressed all in fine silk and gold and
jewels, walked alone the length of Ireland, and
there was no one to rob her or to harm her,
because of the good King and the love the
people had for him and for his laws. And you,
that are descended from King Brian, ask if Ire-
land wasn't always the poor, unhappy country."
  " But all that was so long ago," said John;
  near a thousand years, was it not Since then
it's been nothing but sorrow for the country and
for the people. What good is it to us that the
country was happy in King Brian's time Will
that help us pay the rent And how we'll pay
the rent when the winter comes, I dunno, and
if we don't pay it we'll be evicted."
  "Shaun," said his mother, calling him by the
Irish name that she used sometimes-" Shaun,



5

 


6      Fairies and Folk of Ireland

we'll not be evicted; never fear that. Things are
bad, and they may be worse, but take my word,
whatever comes, we'll not be evicted."
  " Mother," said the young man, " you never
spoke the word, so far as I know, that wasn't
true, but I dunno how it'll be this time. We've
been workin' all we can and we only just manage
to pay the rent and live, and here's the summer
over and the winter coming, and how will we pay
the rent then "
  The mother did not answer this question
directly. She began talking in a way that did
not seem to have anything to do with the rent,
though it really had something to do with it, in
her own mind, and perhaps in her son's mind
too.
  " It's over-tired that you are with your hard
day's work, Shaun," she said, " and that and
seeing Kitty so tired, too, has maybe made you
look at things a little worse than they are. We've
never been so bad off as many of our neighbors;
you know that. And yet I know it's been worse
of late and harder for you than it might have
been, and you can't remember the better times
that our family had, and that's why you forget
that the times were ever better. No, you wasn't
born then, but the time was when good luck
seemed to follow your father and me everywhere
and always. Yes, and the good luck has not all

 


O'Donogkhe



left us yet, though we had the bad luck to lose
your. father so long ago. We could not hope to
be rich or happy while the whole country was in
such distress as it's been sometimes, yet there
were always many that were worse off than we,
and when I think of those days of '47 and '48 it
makes the sorrows seem light that we're suffering
now. And I always know that whatever comes,
there'll be some good for me and mine while I
live. I've told you how I know that, but you
always forget, and I must tell you again."
  They had not forgotten. They knew the story
that was coming by heart, but they knew that
the old woman liked to tell it, so they let her go
on and said not a word.
  For a little while, too, the old woman said
not a word. She sat with her eyes closed, and
smiling, as if she were in a dream. Then she
began to speak softly, as if she were still only
just waking out of a dream.   "Blessed days
there were," she said-" blessed   days for
Ireland once-long ago-many hundreds of
years. O'Donoghutie-it was he was the good
King, and happy were his people.   A fierce
warrior he was to guard them from their enemies,
and a just ruler to those who min(le(l his laws.
It was in the West that he ruled, by the beautiful
Lakes of Killarney. The rich and the poor
among his people were alike in one thing-they



7

 



8      Fairies and Folk of Ireland

all had justice. He punished even his own son
when he did wrong, as if he had been a poor man
and a stranger.
  " He gave grand feasts to his friends, and the
greatest and the best men of all Erin came to sit
at his table and to hear the wise words that he
spoke. And the greatest bards of all Erin came
to sing before him and his guests of the brave
deeds of the heroes of old days and of the great-
ness and the goodness of O'Donoghue himself.
At one of these feasts, after a bard had been
singing of the noble days of Erin long ago,
O'Donoghue began to speak of the years that
were to come for Ireland. He told of much good
and of much evil. He told how true and brave
and noble men would live and work and fight and
die for their country, and how cowards would
betray her. He told of glory and he told of
shame. He spoke of riches and honor, and
poetry and beauty; he spoke of want and dis-
grace, and degradation and sorrow.
  "Those who sat at his table listened to him
in wonder. Sometimes their hearts swelled with
pride at the noble lives and deeds of those who
were to come after them, sometimes they wept
at the sufferings that their children were to feel,
and sometimes they hid their faces from each
other in shame at the tales of cowardice and of
treachery.

 




























I



11


ul



..tI

a
n
w
I
ll
x



F 

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O 'Donoghue



  "As he finished speaking he rose from the
table, crossed the hall, and walked out at the
door and down to the shore of the lake. The
others followed him and watched him, full of
wonder. They saw him go to the edge of the
lake and then walk out upon it, as if the water
had been firm ground under his feet. He walked
far and far out on the bright lake as they stood
and gazed at him. Then he turned toward them,
he waved his hand in farewell, and he was gone.
They saw him no more."
  The old woman paused for a moment and the
dreaming look came back to her face. Then
she went on. " They saw him no more-but
others saw him-and I have seen him. Every
year, on the ist of M\Iay, just as the sun is rising,
he rides across the lake on his beautiful white
horse. He is not always seen, but sometimes a
few can see him. And it always brings good
luck to see O'Donoghue riding across the lake
on May morning. And I saw him."
  Again there was a pause, but she had no look
of dreaming now. Her eyes were open and she
seemed to be looking at something wonderful
and beautiful that was far off. Slowly and softly
she began speaking again. " I was a girl then.
My father lived by the Lakes of Killarney. On
that May morning I was standing at the door
as the sun was rising. I was looking out upon



9

 


IO    Fairies and Folk of Ireland

the lake, far away to the east. The first that I saw
was that the water, far off toward the sun, was
ruffled, and then all at once a great, white-
crested wave rose, as if a strong wind had struck
the water, only all the air was still, and no wind
ever raises such a wave as that on the lake. The
wave came swiftly toward me, and I drew back,
in a kind of dread, though I knew that it could
not reach me where I stood. But still I looked-
and then I saw him.
  " Through the flying water and foam and mist
I saw the old King, on his white horse, following
the great wave across the lake. The sun made
all his armor gleam like the silver of the lake itself,
and the plume of his helmet streamed away
behind him like the spray that a strong wind
blows back from the crest of a breaker. After
him came a train of glowing, beautiful forms-
spirits of the lake or of the air, or some of the
Good People-I do not know. They wore soft,
flowing garments, that were like the morning
mists; they carried chains of pearls and they
scattered other pearls about them, that glistened
like the drops of a shower when the sun is shining
through it. They had garlands of flowers, and
they plucked the flowers out and threw them
high in the air, so that they fell before the King.
They looked like flecks of foam from the waves,
turned rosy and violet by the rising sun, but

 


O 'Donogmue



they were flowers. And there was a sound of
sweet, soft music, like harps and mellow horns.
  " The King and his train came nearer and I
saw them plainer, and the music sounded louder.
Then they passed me and moved far away again
on the lake. The sight of them grew dim and
the music grew faint, and I strained my eyes and
my ears for the last of them, and they were gone.
Then I could move and speak and breathe again,
for it had seemed to me that I could not do any
one of these things while the King was passing,
and I knew that I had seen O'Donoghue."
  The old woman stopped, as if the story were
en(led, but the younger people did not speak, for
they knew that she had something else to tell.
  O'Donoghlue had passed and was gone," she
said, " but hie always leaves good luck behind
him, and he left the good luck xwith me. That
summer some rich young ladies came from
Dublin to see the Lakes of Killarney. They heard
the story of O'Donoghue, and the people told
them that I was the last who had seen hiim. They
came to my father's house and asked me to tell
them what I had seen. They seemed pleased
with what I told them, or with something that
they saw in me. and they asked my father to let
them take me back to the city with them, for
a lady's maid. He did not like to let me go, but
they said that they would pay me well and wouild



I I

 


12    Fairies and Folk of Ireland

have me taught better than I could be at home.
He was poor, there were others at home who
needed all that he could earn, I wished to go, and
at last he said I might.
   " So I went to Dublin and lived in a grand
 house, among grand people. I tried to do my
 duties well, and they were kind to me. They kept
 the promise that they had made to my father.
 They gave me books and allowed me time to
 study them, and they helped me in things that I
 could not well have learned by myself, even with
 the books. I was quick at study, and in the little
 time that I had, I learned all that I could. Three
 times they took me to London with them, and
 I saw still grander people and grander life.
 " Those were happy days, but happier came.
 Your father came, Shaun. He was a servant of
 the family, like myself-a coachman. But he
 was wiser than I, and he talked with me and
 showed me that there was something better for
 us than to be servants always. We saved all the
 money that we could, and when we had enough
 we came here, where your father had lived before,
 and took a little farm. The luck of O'Donoghue
 was always with us. We had a good landlord,
 who asked a fair rent. We both worked hard,
 we saved more money and took more land, and
 all our neighbors thought that we were pros-
perous, and so we were.

 


O 'Donog/cue



  "Then came '47. Nobody could be pros-
perous then. Nobody that had a heart in him at
all could even keep what he had saved then.
What we had and what our neighbors had
belonged to all, and little enough there was of it.
It is well for you young people to talk of these
times being hard. Harder than some they may
be, but good and easy compared with those days
of '47 and '48. You talk of injustice and wrong
to Ireland! What think you of those times, when
every day great ships sailed away from Ireland
loaded down with food-corn and bacon, and
beef and butter-and Ireland's own people left
without the bit of food to keep the life in them
All summer long was the horrible wet weather,
and the potatoes rotting in the ground before
they'Id be ripe, and never fit to eat. To add to
all that was the fever, that killed its thousands,
and then the cold. And when the days came
again that the crops would grow, many and many
of the people were so weak wvith the hunger and
the sickness that they could not work in the
fields. Ahl! and you call these hard times!
  "Those were the bad days for Ireland, those
days of '47. Not even the luck of O Donoghue
could make us prosper or give us comforts then.
But we lived through the time, as many others
did. The poor helped those who were poorer
than themselves; the sick tended those who were



I 3

 


14    Fairies and Folk of Ireland

sicker; the cold gave clothes and fire to those who
were colder. The little money that we had saved
helped us and some of our neighbors. And we
lived through it all.
  " Better times came, though never again so
good as the old. We worked again and we saved
a trifle. Then you were born to us, John. We
had a worse landlord now. He was of the kind
that cared nothing for his tenants and nothing
for his land, but to get the last penny off it. The
rent was raised, and we never could have paid it
but for the care and the skill and the hard work
of your father. And then, John, you know that
when you were hardly old enough to take his
place with the work, let alone knowing how to
work as well as he, he died and left us-Heaven
rest his soul! "
  For a long time the old woman said no more,
and neither of the others spoke. Then she said:
" John, the country is in trouble enough and the
times are hard enough for you and for Kitty,
here, and for all of us, I know. But don't be cast
down. There have been worse days than these;
there have been better days, too, and there will
be better again."

 











II



          THE BIG POOR PEOPLE

  There was a knock at the door, and John
opened it. " God save all here except the cat! "
said a voice outside.
  " God save you kindly!" John answered.
  A young man and a young woman came in.
They were neighbors-Peter Sullivan and his
wife, Ellen.  " Good avenin' to you, Pether,"
said John; "you're lookin' fine and hearty, and
it's like a rose you're lookin', Ellen."
  "It's more like nettles than roses we're
feelin', " Ellen answered, " but something with
prickles anyway, wid the bother we have every
day and all day."
  " Thrue for you, it's hard times," said John;
"we was speaking about them just the minute
before you came in; but we all have to bear them.
It's not you ought to complain, as long as
you've good health; now here's Kitty-I dunno
how-"
                     15

 


i6    Fairies and Folk of Ireland

  " It's not the hard times I'm speakin' of now,"
said Ellen; " they're bad enough, goodness
knows; but it's the bother we have all the time,
and we can't tell how or why. Half the time the
cow gives no milk, and when she does, you can
make no butther wid it. The pig, the crathur,
won't get fat; he ates everything he can reach,
and still he looks like a basket wid a skin over it.
The smoke of the fire comes down the chimney,
the dishes are thrown on the floor, wid nobody
near them, and such noises are goin' on all night
long that never a wink of sleep can a body get.
What we'll do at all if it goes on, I dunno."
  " By all the books that ever was opened and
shut," Peter added, " it's all thrue what she says,
and more. What wid all that and what wid the
throubles that's on the whole counthry, if I only
had the money saved to do it, I'ld lave it all
to-morrow and go to the States-I would so."
  " Leave off the things you do that make you all
these troubles," said the older Mrs. O'Brien,
"and you'll have no more need to go to the
States than others."
  " What things are them that we do " Ellen
asked.
  " Haven't I told you before this," said Mrs.
O'Brien, " that it's the Good People that trouble
you If you'ld treat them well, as we do, they'ld
never bother you. If you'ld even take good care

 


Th e B ig Poor Peop le



never to harm them, it's likely they'ld never come
near you."
   ' It's the fairies you're speakin' of," said Peter.
"Sure I don't believe in them at all. It's old
woman's nonsense that your head's full of, savin'
your presence, Mrs. O'Brien. There's no fairies
at all. Don't talk to me."
  " You'ld better be more respectful to them,
Peter," Mrs. O'Brien answered. " Say less about
not believing in them and don't call them by that
name, that they don't like. Call them ' the Good
People ' or ' the gentry.' They don't like the
name that you called them, any more than they
like those who disbelieve in them or those who
try to know too much about them. Speak well
about them and treat them well, as we do, and
they'll not trouble you; maybe they'll even help
you. Didn't you see, as you came in, how we left
something for them to eat and drink outside the
door there We've not much, but they like fresh
milk and clean water, and we always give them
these, and they hold nothing but friendliness for
us. Look and see now if they've taken what we
left there for them after supper."
  Peter went to the door and looked. " There's
nothing in the dishes there," he said; " but how
do we know it wasn't the pig that ate it, or some
poor dog, maybe "
  " You don't know," said Mrs. O'Brien, " only



1 7

 



iS    Fairies and Folk of Ireland

as I tell you, and you'ld better be attending to
them that know more than yourself. If you did
chance to give a meal to some poor dog, instead
of to the Good People, there'ld be no great harm
done, but it's the Good People that get what we
put there. We always leave it for them and they
always come and take it, and it's that makes them
friendly, and so they would be to you, if you did
the same. But you do nothing for them, because
you say you don't believe in them, and you do
worse than nothing. Didn't I see, Ellen the other
evening throwing out some dirty water and never
saying 'Take care of the water ' "
  " And what if I did " said Ellen. " Can't I
throw out wather when I plase, widout talkin'
about it "
  " You can if you like," said the old woman,
"but when you throw out water without warn-
ing, it's as likely as not some of the Good People
may be passing, and they don't like dirty water
to be thrown on them; and so after that your cow
gives no milk, your pig is thin, and your dishes
are thrown around the room. Do as you