The Irish Fairy Book Part 33

"It is," said he.

"I was the pony," said the girl, "and the two ravens who went in to drink my blood my two brothers. When the ravens came out, a little bird went in. You closed the pony. You would not let the little bird out till they brought the bottle of healing water that was in the eastern world.

They brought the bottle to you. The little bird was my sister. It was my brothers were the ravens. We were all under enchantments. It is my sister who is married to you. The enchantments are gone from us since she was married."

W. LARMINIE.

(_From "West Irish Folk Tales."_)

King O'Toole and St Kevin

(_A Legend of Glendalough._)

There was wanst a king, called King O'Toole, who was a fine ould king in the ould ancient times, long ago; and it was him that owned the Churches in the airly days.

"Surely," said I, "the Churches were not in King O'Toole's time?"

"Oh, by no manes, your honor--throth, it's yourself that's right enough there; but you know the place is called 'The Churches' bekase they wor built _afther_ by St. Kavin, and wint by the name o' the Churches iver more; and, therefore, av coorse, the place bein' so called, I say that the King owned the Churches--and why not, sir, seein' 'twas his birthright, time out o' mind, beyant the flood? Well, the King (you see) was the right sort--he was the _rale_ boy, and loved sport as he loved his life, and huntin' in partic'lar; and from the risin' o' the sun up he got, and away he wint over the mountains beyant afther the deer: and the fine times them wor; for the deer was as plinty thin, aye throth, far plintyer than the sheep is now; and that's the way it was with the King, from the crow o' the c.o.c.k to the song o' the redbreast. Well, it was all mighty good as long as the King had his health; but, you see, in coorse o' time, the King grewn ould, by raison he was stiff in his limbs, and when he got sthricken in years, his heart failed him, and he was lost intirely for want o' divars.h.i.+n, bekase he couldn't go a huntin'

no longer; and, by dad, the poor King was obleeged at last for to get a goose to divart him. You see, the goose used for to swim acra.s.s the lake, and go down divin' for throut (and not finer throut in all Ireland than the same throut) and cotch fish on a Friday for the King, and flew every other day round about the lake divartin' the poor King that you'd think he'd break his sides laughin' at the frolicksome tricks av his goose; so, in coorse o' time, the goose was the greatest pet in the counthry, and the biggest rogue, and divarted the King to no end, and the poor King was as happy as the day was long. So that's the way it was; and all wint on mighty well antil, by dad, the goose got sthricken in years, as well as the King, and grew stiff in the limbs, like her masther, and couldn't divart him no longer; and then it was that the poor King was lost complate, and didn't know what in the wide world to do, seein' he was gone out of all divars.h.i.+n by raison that the goose was no more in the flower of her blume.

"Well, the King was nigh broken-hearted and melancholy intirely, and was walkin' one mornin' by the edge of the lake, lamentin' his cruel fate, an' thinkin' o' drownin' himself, that could get no divars.h.i.+n in life, when all of a suddint, turnin' round the corner beyant, who should he meet but a mighty dacent young man comin' up to him.

"'G.o.d save you,' says the King (for the King was a civil-spoken gintleman, by all accounts), 'G.o.d save you,' says he to the young man.

"'G.o.d save you kindly,' says the young man to him back again; 'G.o.d save you, King O'Toole.'

"'Thrue for you,' says the King, 'I am King O'Toole,' says he, 'prince and plennypennytinchery o' these parts,' says he; 'but how kem ye to know that?' says he.

"'Oh, never mind,' says Saint Kavin (for 'twas he that was in it). 'And now, may I make bowld to ax, how is your goose, King O'Toole?' says he.

"'Blur-an-agers, how kem you to know about my goose?' says the King.

"'Oh, no matther; I was given to understand it,' says Saint Kavin.

"'Oh, that's a folly to talk,' says the King, 'bekase myself and my goose is private friends,' says he, 'and no one could tell you,' says he, 'barrin' the fairies.'

"'Oh, thin, it wasn't the fairies,' says Saint Kavin; 'for I'd have you know,' says he, 'that I don't keep the likes o' sich company.'

"'You might do worse, then, my gay fellow,' says the King; 'for it's _they_ could show you a crock o' money as aisy as kiss hand; and that's not to be sneezed at,' says the King, 'by a poor man,' says he.

"'Maybe I've a betther way of making money myself,' says the saint.

"'By gor,' says the King, 'barrin' you're a coiner,' says he, 'that's impossible!'

"'I'd scorn to be the like, my lord!' says Saint Kavin, mighty high, 'I'd scorn to be the like,' says he.

"'Then, what are you?' says the King, 'that makes money so aisy, by your own account.'

"'I'm an honest man,' says Saint Kavin.

"'Well, honest man,' says the King, 'and how is it you make your money so aisy?'

"'By makin' ould things as good as new,' says Saint Kavin.

"'Is it a tinker you are?' says the King.

"'No,' says the saint; 'I'm no tinker by thrade, King O'Toole; I've a betther thrade than a tinker,' says he. 'What would you say,' says he, 'if I made your ould goose as good as new?'

"My dear, at the word o' making his goose as good as new, you'd think the poor ould King's eyes was ready to jump out iv his head, 'and,' says he--'throth, thin, I'd give you more money nor you could count,' says he, 'if you did the like, and I'd be behoulden to you in the bargain.'

"'I scorn your dirty money,' says Saint Kavin.

"'Faith, thin, I'm thinkin' a thrifle o' change would do you no harm,'

says the King, lookin' up sly at the ould _caubeen_ that Saint Kavin had on him.

"'I have a vow agin it,' says the saint; 'and I am book sworn,' says he, 'never to have goold, silver, or bra.s.s in my company.'

"'Barrin' the thrifle you can't help,' says the King, mighty cute, and looking him straight in the face.

"'You just hot it,' says Saint Kavin; 'but though I can't take money,'

says he, 'I could take a few acres o' land, if you'd give them to me.'

"'With all the veins o' my heart,' says the King, 'if you can do what you say.'

"'Thry me!' says Saint Kavin. 'Call down your goose here,' says he, 'and I'll see what I can do for her.'

"With that the King whistled, and down kem the poor goose, all as one as a hound, waddlin' up to the poor ould cripple, her masther, and as like him as two pays. The minute the saint clapt his eyes on the goose, 'I'll do the job for you,' says he, 'King O'Toole!'

"'By _Jaminee_,' says King O'Toole, 'if you do, but I'll say you're the cleverest fellow in the sivin parishes.'

"'Oh, by dad,' says Saint Kavin, 'you must say more nor that--my horn's not so soft all out,' says he, 'as to repair your ould goose for nothin'; what'll you gi' me if I do the job for you?--that's the chat,'

says Saint Kavin.

"'I'll give you whatever you ax,' says the King; 'isn't that fair?'

"'Divil a fairer,' says the saint; 'that's the way to do business. Now,'

says he, 'this is the bargain I'll make with you, King O'Toole: will you gi' me all the ground the goose flies over, the first offer, afther I make her as good as new?'

"'I will,' says the King.

"'You won't go back o' your word?' says Saint Kavin.

"'Honor bright!' says King O'Toole, howldin' out his fist.

"'Honor bright,' says Saint Kavin back again, 'it's a bargain,' says he.