Chapter 16

One day, as she and a woman were spinning together, the house suddenly became quite dark; and the door was burst open as if by the blast of the tempest, when in walked a huge black cat, who went straight up to the fire, then turned round and growled at them.

"Why, surely this is the devil," said a young girl who was by, sorting fish.

"I'll teach you to call me names," said the cat; and, jumping at her, he scratched her arm till the blood came. "There, now," he said, "you will be more civil another time when a gentleman comes to see you." And, with that, he walked over to the door, and shut it close to prevent any of them going out, for the poor young girl, while crying loudly from fright and pain, had made a desperate rush to get away.

Just then a man was going by, and, hearing the cries, he pushed open the door, and tried to get in; but the cat stood on the threshold and would let no one pass. On this the man attacked him with a stick, and gave him a sound blow; the cat, however, was more than a match in the fight, for it flew at him, and tore his face and hands so badly that the man at last took to his heels, and ran away as fast as he could.

"Now, it's time for my dinner," said the cat, going up to examine the fish that was laid out on the tables. "I hope the fish is good to-day. Now, don't disturb me, or make a fuss; I can help myself." With that, he jumped up, and began to devour all the best fish, while he growled at the woman.

"Away out of this, you wicked beast!" she cried, giving it a blow with the tongs that would have broken its back, only it was a devil; "out of this; no fish shall you have to-day!"

But the cat only grinned at her, and went on tearing and despoiling and devouring the fish, evidently not a bit the worse for the blows. On this both the women attacked it with sticks, and struck hard blows enough to kill it, on which the cat glared at them and spit fire; then, making a leap, it tore their heads and arms till the blood came, and the frightened women rushed shrieking from the house.

But presently the mistress of the house returned, carrying with her a bottle of holy water; and, looking in, she saw the cat still devouring the fish, and not minding. So she crept over quietly, and threw holy water on it without a word. No sooner was this done than a dense, black smoke filled the place, through which nothing was seen but the two red eyes of the cat burning like coals of fire. Then the smoke gradually cleared away, and she saw the body of the creature burning slowly, till it became shrivelled and black like a cinder, and finally disappeared. And from that time the fish remained untouched and safe from harm, for the power of the Evil One was broken, and the Demon Cat was seen no more.

LADY WILDE.

The Abbot of Inisfalen

(_A Legend of Killarney._)

I.

The Abbot of Inisfalen awoke ere dawn of day; Under the dewy green leaves went he forth to pray, The lake around his island lay smooth and dark and deep, And wrapt in a misty stillness the mountains were all asleep. Low kneel'd the Abbot Cormac when the dawn was dim and gray; The prayers of his holy office he faithfully 'gan to say. Low kneel'd the Abbot Cormac while the dawn was waxing red; And for his sins' forgiveness a solemn prayer he said; Low kneel'd that holy Abbot while the dawn was waxing clear; And he pray'd with loving-kindness for his convent-brethren dear. Low kneel'd that blessed Abbot while the dawn was waxing bright; He pray'd a great prayer for Ireland, he pray'd with all his might. Low kneel'd that good old Father while the sun began to dart; He pray'd a prayer for all men, he pray'd it from his heart. His blissful soul was in Heaven, tho' a breathing man was he; He was out of Time's dominion, so far as the living may be.

II.

The Abbot of Inisfalen arose upon his feet; He heard a small bird singing, and O but it sung sweet! It sung upon a holly-bush, this little snow-white bird; A song so full of gladness he never before had heard. It sung upon a hazel, it sung upon a thorn; He had never heard such music since the hour that he was born. It sung upon a sycamore, it sung upon a briar; To follow the song and hearken this Abbot could never tire. Till at last he well bethought him; he might no longer stay; So he blessed the little white singing-bird, and gladly went his way.

III.

But, when he came to his Abbey, he found a wondrous change; He saw no friendly faces there, for every face was strange. The strange men spoke unto him; and he heard from all and each The foreign tongue of the Sassenach, not wholesome Irish speech. Then the oldest monk came forward, in Irish tongue spake he: "Thou wearest the holy Augustine's dress, and who hath given it to thee?" "I wear the holy Augustine's dress, and Cormac is my name, The Abbot of this good Abbey by grace of God I am. I went forth to pray, at the dawn of day; and when my prayers were said, I hearken'd awhile to a little bird that sung above my head." The monks to him made answer, "Two hundred years have gone o'er, Since our Abbot Cormac went through the gate, and never was heard of more. Matthias now is our Abbot, and twenty have pass'd away. The stranger is lord of Ireland; we live in an evil day." "Days will come and go," he said, "and the world will pass away, In Heaven a day is a thousand years, a thousand years are a day."

IV.

"Now, give me absolution; for my time is come," said he. And they gave him absolution as speedily as might be. Then, close outside the window, the sweetest song they heard That ever yet since the world began was utter'd by any bird. The monks look'd out and saw the bird, its feathers all white and clean; And there in a moment, beside it, another white bird was seen. Those two they sang together, waved their white wings, and fled; Flew aloft, and vanished; but the good old man was dead. They buried his blessed body where lake and greensward meet; A carven cross above his head, a holly-bush at his feet; Where spreads the beautiful water to gay or cloudy skies, And the purple peaks of Killarney from ancient woods arise.

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

Morraha

(_As told by an Irish Peasant._)

Morraha rose in the morning, and washed his hands and face, and said his prayers, and ate his food; and he asked God to prosper the day for him; and he went down to the brink of the sea, and he saw a currach, short and green, coming towards him; and in it there was but one youthful champion, and he playing hurly from prow to stern of the currach. He had a hurl of gold and a ball of silver; and he stopped not until the currach was in on the shore; and he drew her up on the green grass, and put fastening on her for a day and a year, whether he should be there all that time, or should only be on land for an hour by the clock. And Morraha saluted the young man in words intelligent, intelligible, such as were spoken at that time; and the other saluted him in the same fashion, and asked him would he play a game of cards with him; and Morraha said he had not the wherewithal; and the other answered that he was never without a candle or the making of it; and he put his hand in his pocket and drew out a table and two chairs and a pack of cards, and they sat down on the chairs and went to the card-playing. The first game Morraha won, and the slender red champion bade him make his claim; and he said that the land above him should be filled with stock of sheep in the morning. It was well, and he played no second game, but home he went.

The next day Morraha went to the brink of the sea, and the young man came in the currach and asked him would he play cards; and they played, and Morraha won. And the young man bade him make his claim; and he said that the land above should be filled with cattle in the morning. It was well, and he played no other game, but went home.

And on the third morning Morraha went to the brink of the sea, and he saw the young man coming. And he drew up his boat on the shore, and asked him would he play cards. And they played, and Morraha won the game; and the young man bade him give his claim. And he said he should have a castle, and of women the finest and fairest; and they were his. It was well, and the young man went away.

On the fourth day the woman asked him how he had found himself, and he told her. "And I am going out," said he, "to play again to-day."

"I cross (forbid) you go again to him. If you have won so much, you will lose more; and have no more to do with him."

But he went against her will, and he saw the currach coming, and the young man was driving his balls from end to end of the currach. He had balls of silver and a hurl of gold, and he stopped not till he drew his boat on the shore, and made her fast for a year and a day. And Morraha and he saluted each other; and he asked Morraha if he would play a game of cards, and they played and he won. And Morraha said to him, "Give your claim, now."

Said he, "You will hear it too soon. I lay on you the bonds of the art of the Druid not to sleep two nights in one house, nor finish a second meal at the one table, till you bring me the sword of light and news of the death of Anshgayliacht."

He went down to his wife, and sat down in a chair, and gave a groan, and the chair broke in pieces.

"It is the son of a king under spells you are," said his wife; "and you had better have taken my counsel than that the spells should be on you." He said to her to bring news of the death of Anshgayliacht and the sword of light to the slender red champion.

"Go out," said she, "in the morning of the morrow, and take the bridle in the window and shake it; and whatever beast, handsome or ugly, puts the head in it, take that one with you. Do not speak a word to her till she speaks to you; and take with you three pint bottles of ale and three sixpenny loaves, and do the thing she tells you; and when she runs to my father's land, on a height above the court, she will shake herself, and the bells will ring, and my father will say Brown Allree is in the land. And if the son of a king or queen is there, bring him to me on your shoulders; but if it is the son of a poor man, let him come no further."

He rose in the morning, and took the bridle that was in the window and went out and shook it, and Brown Allree came and put her head in it. And he took the three loaves and three bottles of ale, and went riding; and when he was riding, she bent her head down to take hold of her feet with her mouth, in hopes he would speak in ignorance; but he spoke not a word during the time, and the mare at last spoke to him, and said to him to dismount and give her her dinner. He gave her the sixpenny loaf toasted and a bottle of ale to drink. "Sit up, now, riding and take good heed of yourself: there are three miles of fire I have to clear at a leap."

She cleared the three miles of fire at a leap, and asked if he were riding, and he said he was. They went on then, and she told him to dismount and give her a meal; and he did so, and gave her a sixpenny loaf and a bottle; and she consumed them, and said to him there were before them three miles of hill covered with steel thistles, and that she must clear it. And she cleared the hill with a leap, and she asked him if he were still riding, and he said he was. They went on, and she went not far before she told him to give her a meal, and he gave her the bread and the bottleful. And she went over three miles of sea with a leap, and she came then to the land of the King of France; and she went up on a height above the castle, and she shook herself and neighed, and the bells rang; and the King said that it was Brown Allree was in the land. "Go out," said he, "and if it is the son of a king or queen, carry him in on your shoulders; if it is not, leave him there."

They went out, and the stars of the son of a king were on his breast; and they lifted him high on their shoulders and bore him in to the King. And they passed the night cheerfully with playing and with drinking, with sport and with diversion, till the whiteness of the day came upon the morrow morning.

Then the young King told the cause of his journey, and he asked of the Queen her counsel and consent, and to give him counsel and good luck, and the woman told him everything she advised him to do. "Go now," said she, "and take with you the best mare in the stable, and go to the door of Rough Niall of the speckled rock, and knock, and call on him to give you news of the death of Anshgayliacht and the sword of light; and let the horse's back be to the door, and apply the spurs, and away with you!"

And in the morning he did so, and he took the best horse from the stable and rode to the door of Niall, and turned the horse's back to the door, and demanded news of the death of Anshgayliacht, and the sword of light; and he applied the spurs, and away with him. And Niall followed him, and as he was passing the gate cut the horse in two. And the mother was there with a dish of puddings and flesh, and she threw it in his eyes and blinded him, and said, "Fool, whatever kind of man it is that's mocking you, isn't that a fine condition you have got into on your father's horse?"

On the morning of the next day Morraha rose and took another horse from the stable, and went again to the door of Niall, and knocked and demanded news of the death of Anshgayliacht, and the sword of light, and applied the spurs to the horse, and away with him. And Niall followed, and as he was passing the gate cut the horse in two, and took half the saddle with him, and his mother met him, and threw the flesh in his eyes and blinded him.

And on the third day Morraha went also to the door of Niall; and Niall followed him, and as he was passing the gate cut away the saddle from under him and the clothes from his back. Then his mother said to Niall:

"Whatever fool it is that's mocking you, he is out yonder in the little currach, going home; and take good heed to yourself, and don't sleep one wink for three days."

And for three days the little currach was there before him, and then his mother came to him and said:

"Sleep as much as you want now. He is gone."

And he went to sleep, and there was heavy sleep on him, and Morraha went in and took hold of the sword that was on the bed at his head. And the sword thought to draw itself out of the hand of Morraha, but it failed. And then it gave a cry, and it wakened Niall, and Niall said it was a rude and rough thing to come into his house like that; and Morraha said to him:

"Leave your much talking, or I will cut the head off you. Tell me the news of the death of Anshgayliacht."

"Oh, you can have my head."

"But your head is no good to me. Tell me the story."

"Oh," said Niall's wife, "you must get the story."

"Oh," said Morraha, "is the woman your wife?"

"Oh," said the man, "is it not you that have the story?"

"Oh," said she, "you will tell it to us."

"Well," said the man, "let us sit down together till I tell the story. I thought no one would ever get it, but now it will be heard by all."

When I was growing up my mother taught me the language of the birds, and when I got married I used to be listening to their conversation; and I would be laughing; and my wife would be asking me what was the reason of my laughing, but I did not like to tell her, as women are always asking questions. We went out walking one fine morning, and the birds were arguing with one another. One of them said to another:

"Why should you be making comparison with me, when there is not a king nor knight that does not come to look at my tree?"

"Oh, what advantage has your tree over mine, on which there are three rods of magic and mastery growing?"

When I heard them arguing, and knew that the rods were there, I began to laugh.

"Oh," said my wife, "why are you always laughing? I believe it is at myself you are jesting, and I'll walk with you no more."

"Oh, it is not about you I am laughing. It is because I understand the language of the birds."

Then I had to tell her what the birds were saying to one another; and she was greatly delighted, and she asked me to go home, and she gave orders to the cook to have breakfast ready at six o'clock in the morning. I did not know why she was going out early, and breakfast was ready in the morning at the hour she appointed. She asked me to go out walking. I went with her. She went to the tree, and asked me to cut a rod for her.

"Oh, I will not cut it. Are we not better without it?"

"I will not leave this till I get the rod, to see if there is any good in it."

I cut the rod, and gave it to her. She turned from me, and struck a blow on a stone and changed it; and she struck a second blow on me, and made of me a black raven, and she went home, and left me after her. I thought she would come back; she did not come, and I had to go into a tree till morning. In the morning, at six o'clock, there was a bellman out, proclaiming that everyone who killed a raven would get a fourpenny bit. At last you would not find man or boy without a gun, nor, if you were to walk three miles, a raven that was not killed. I had to make a nest in the top of the parlour chimney, and hide myself all day till night came, and go out to pick up a bit to support me, till I spent a month. Here she is herself (to say) if it is a lie I am telling.

"It is not," said she.

Then I saw her out walking. I went up to her, and I thought she would turn me back to my own shape, and she struck me with the rod and made of me an old white horse, and she ordered me to be put to a cart with a man to draw stones from morning till night. I was worse off then. She spread abroad a report that I had died suddenly in my bed, and prepared a coffin, and waked me, and buried me. Then she had no trouble. But when I got tired, I began to kill everyone who came near me, and I used to go into the haggard every night and destroy the stacks of corn; and when a man came near me in the morning, I would follow him till I broke his bones. Everyone got afraid of me. When she saw I was doing mischief, she came to meet me, and I thought she would change me. And she did change me, and made a fox of me. When I saw she was doing me every sort of damage, I went away from her. I knew there was a badger's hole in the garden, and I went there till night came, and I made great slaughter among the ducks and geese. There she is herself to say if I am telling a lie.

"Oh, you are telling nothing but the truth, only less than the truth."

When she had enough of my killing the fowl, she came out into the garden, for she knew I was in the badger's hole. She came to me, and made me a wolf. I had to be off, and go to an island, where no one at all would see me, and now and then I used to be killing sheep, for there were not many of them, and I was afraid of being seen and hunted; and so I passed a year, till a shepherd saw me among the sheep, and a pursuit was made after me. And when the dogs came near me, there was no place for me to escape to from them; but I recognised the sign of the King among the men, and I made for him, and the King cried out to stop the hounds. I took a leap upon the front of the King's saddle, and the woman behind cried out, "My King and my lord, kill him, or he will kill you."

"Oh, he will not kill me. He knew me; and must be pardoned."

And the King took me home with him, and gave orders that I should be well cared for. I was so wise when I got food I would not eat one morsel until I got a knife and fork. The man told the King, and the King came to see if it was true, and I got a knife and fork, and I took the knife in one paw and the fork in the other, and I bowed to the King. The King gave orders to bring him drink, and it came; and the King filled a glass of wine, and gave it to me.

I took hold of it in my paw, and drank it, and thanked the King.

"Oh, on my honour, it is some king that has lost him when he came on the island; and I will keep him, as he is trained; and perhaps he will serve us yet."

And this is the sort of King he was--a King who had not a child living. Eight sons were born to him and three daughters, and they were stolen the same night they were born. No matter what guard was placed over them, the child would be gone in the morning. The Queen was now carrying the twelfth child, and when she was lying-in, the King took me with him to watch the baby. The women were not satisfied with me. "Oh," said the King, "what was all your watching ever? One that was born to me I have not; and I will leave this one in the dog's care, and he will not let it go."

A coupling was put between me and the cradle, and when everyone went to sleep I was watching till the person woke who attended in the daytime; but I was there only two nights when, it was near the day, I saw the hand coming down through the chimney, and the hand was so big that it took round the child altogether, and thought to take him away. I caught hold of the hand above the wrist, and, as I was fastened to the cradle, I did not let go my hold till I cut the hand from the wrist, and there was a howl from the person without. I laid the hand in the cradle with the child, and, as I was tired, I fell asleep; and when I awoke I had neither child nor hand; and I began to howl, and the King heard me, and he cried out that something was wrong with me, and he sent servants to see what was the matter with me, and when the messenger came he saw me covered with blood, and he could not see the child; and he went to the King, and told him the child was not to be got. The King came, and saw the cradle coloured with the blood, and he cried out, "Where was the child gone?" and everyone said it was the dog had eaten it.

The King said, "It is not: loose him, and he will get the pursuit himself."

When I was loosed, I found the scent of the blood till I came to a door of the room in which the child was. I went to the King, and took hold of him, and went back again, and began to tear at the door. The King followed me, and asked for the key. The servant said it was in the room of the stranger woman. The King caused search to be made for her, and she was not to be found. "I will break the door," said the King, "as I can't get the key." The King broke the door, and I went in, and went to the trunk, and the King asked for a key to unlock it. He got no key, and he broke the lock. When he opened the trunk the child and the hand were stretched side by side, and the child was asleep. The King took the hand, and ordered a woman to come for the child, and he showed the hand to everyone in the house. But the stranger woman was gone, and she did not see the King; and here she is herself to say if I am telling lies of her.

"Oh, it's nothing but the truth you have."

The King did not allow me to be tied any more. He said there was nothing so much to wonder at as that I cut the hand off, and I tied.