Part 15

Njï ro ăn xïăr ege. Hilh nă djooră. “Truuă nær ă (c)laqĕ mee dŏ xoorlje, nuuirj a dj ïăr tuu orram pillju welje.” “Beedjirj co wïmisj buui ălig erj” ers ă fær ruuă. “Vï sjee ă vlandăr cŏ wuuirj sjee co llï ee. Nuuirj ă xirj ă fær ruuă ă llï ee xor sjee erj ă qlooxă dorraxă. Huc sjee lesj nă broocă sjlouănă, acăs ă qelĕv salăstĕ. Xo sjee ămax acăs hæs sjee ’s ă _wack-yard_. Hæne sjisj’ amax. Rinn sjï sjïs erj ăn ærige. Hæne sjï æd lesj ăn ærigĕ. Xa sjï blïăsq es ă fooqă. Rinn sjï baad dih. Xo sjï stjæx s ă waad. Wuuil sjï ’c imăru lee cææ fædĕl, co d’æne sjï sjtjæx erj ăn ilææn vï ins ăn ærige. Vï fæhăx moor erj ă xladăx. “Wil dædi læt huum ănoxt?” “Nïl” er sjisje, “æx beei sjee ’s ăn ïh maarăx ljom. Tææ maq rjï Eerinnĕ ’noxt oim. Beei sjee ljom insj’ ortsă maarăx.”

Xuuă sjeeăd nă tïă; “Sjoudj qïăr huc misje çoosăn noxt. Tææ sjï hisï.” D’æscel ă fæhax qooră. D’ aac sjee ăn xïăr erj hoonj ă xooră. Vï ăn fær ruuă ă hæsu erj konn nă xooră. Nuuirj ă d’ aac ăn faahăx ăn xïăr ins ă xooră ruc ă fær ruu’ orhi nuu cur xŏ sjee nă fooq’ï. Vï ăn tjæx laan cooirj. Xŏ sjï blïe nă ncooirj cur vlï sjï tjrïăn muunj acăs folĕ. Rinn sjï reei ă supæær. Claq sjeeăd ă _stuff_ sjin. Hærnă fahăx ege kleeŏrsi ïarĕnnj acăs qrækon laarje baannje. Llï sjeeăd ansjin cŏ madjin.

Nuuirj ă hænik ăn laa, dj eerji sjisje acăs dj imi sjï tærentj erj ăn ærigĕ. Lljæn ă fær ruua ï. Nuuirj ă xŏ sjï æd lesj ă waad xor sjï ăn baad erj ăn isjgĕ. Xuuă sjï heen estjæx inti. Lljæn ă fær ruua ï erj ăn ærige. Vï sjee sjkeetææl insj’ orhi lesj ă qlev salăstă. Njï roo ’s egĕ codjee vï ă flehu. Nuuirj ă xo sjïăd æd lesj ă walje xuui ă fær ruuă insjerj ă woisjter. Dj esi sjee ră sjee nă xollu. Duurtj maq ă rjï næx roo. “Hææwăl misje dŏ hjonn ănoxt. Sjoudj ă xïr. Qwirj in dŏ fooq’ ï.” Xor sjee ăn xïr in ă fooqă. Xuui ăn fær ruuă ă llïe. Nuuirj ă vï ăn brikwastă reei erj madjin _ring_-ææl ăn _bell_. Dj eerji sjeeăd acăs njï sjeeăd ïăd heen. Nuuirj ă vï sjeeăd claqu mrikwastă hæni sjisj’ ănuuăs ăn tjæx baar. “Wil ă xïr oiăd huc misj ĕreeirj?” Xor sjee veer in ă fooqă. Xă sjee ăn xïr insj orhi. Nuuirj ă hæne sjï co roo ăn xïr lee faail egĕ, hæne sjï hæært lee _sweep_ awaain. Vrjisj sjï lljæh ă vï erj ă taabĕlĕ. “Tææ tjrïăn don ïne bontj oiăm” ers ă maq rjï Eerinne. “Tææ” ers ăn rjï. “’S tuu ăn cæsjkiăx is fæær ă hænik in mŏ hï erjïu.”

Xo sjeeăd ă helig ăn laa sjin. Nuuirj ă hæni sjeeăd a walje vï sjeeăd djænu grinn acăs qodjæætă cŏ d’ænik æm supæærĕ. Nuuirj a vï sjeeăd claqu supæær hænik ă væn vrjee æd lljoofwe. Xa sji sjisuur insjerj. “Mar roo’sj oiăd lee toortj duuh maarăx beei dŏ hjonn oiăm.” Ruc sjee erj a tj-isuur. Xirj sjee na fooq ee. Nuuirj ă vï sjeeăd ă col ă llïĕ “ouĕrq” ers ă fær ruuă lee na woisjter “wil ă sjisuur oiăd.” “Nïl” ers ă moisjter. “S dæn ă halj tuu ee.” Xo sjee ă x)ïnu. Vï ’n fær ruuă ă vlandăr cŏ wuuirj sjee llï ee. Nuuirj ă xollĕ sjee, xuui ă fær ruuă ămax. Xor sjee erj ă qlooxă dorrăxă acăs nă Broocă sjlouĕnĕ, acăs huc sjee qelev salăste.

[The visit to the giant in the island is repeated, the red man bringing back the scissors as the comb.]

Nuuirj ă vï an brikwasta reei hæne sjï nuuăs ăn tjæx waar. Vï sjï flox, baaitjï. Djesă sjï dih ro ’n sjisuur ege lee toortj dïh. Xor sjee ă veer in ă fooqă, xa sjee insj’ orhi ăn sjisuur. Huc sjï ăn _sweep_ awaain, njïr aac sjï grim _delf_ erj ă taabele nær vrjisj sjï lee mïhæsu. Duurtj maq ă rjï cŏ roo çææ djrïĕn ăn ïnĕ bontj enjuh egĕ. “Tææ” ers ă rjï “acăs tææ huul oiăm co mwinĕ tuu’ lig ï: tææ misje torsaail lehi.”

Xa sjeeăd ă laa sjin ă sjelig, cŏ d’ænik ăn ïhĕ. Nuuirj ă vï ă supæær reei, hæne sjisj’ anuuăs lee _flight_. “Mar roo nă pushini djerinææhă fooqăs misj’ anoxt, beei dŏ hjonn oiăm.” “S deli duusă” ers ă maq ă rjï, “fis ă veeh oimsă codjee nă pushini djerinææhă fooqăs tise.” Vï sjee cŏ buuerhĕ næx roos ege codjee jæænitt sjee. Vï ’n fær ruuă dæ vlandăr cŏ wuuirj sjee nă llï ee.

[The red man goes with the cloak, &c., as before, and follows her to the island.]

Nuuirj ă xo sjï ă djirj erj ăn ilææn, vï ăn fahăx ă buuĕrfi erj ă xladăx. “Wil dædi læt insj’ orram?” ers ăn fahăx. “Njï huuri mee ăn dæh xï insj ort. Lig tuu erj sjuul ă xïr. Lig tuu erj sjuul ă sjisuur. Vï ăn dææ qidj egĕ lee toort duuh erj madjin. Xirj misje gæs anoxt erj næx mïĕn egĕ lee toortj duuh. Sjin ï nă pusjini djerinææha fookinj ănoxt acăs sjin hisĕ.”

Xo sjï nă vlïĕ nă ncooirj. Wuun tjrïĕn fală acăs tjrïĕn muunj. Rinn sjï reei nă hupæære. Dj ïh sjeeăd acăs ool sjeeăd ă sææih doo. Fuuirj sjee qleeŏrsă ïărenj, qrækon laairje baannje. Llï sjeeăd ansjin co madjin. Nuuirj ă hænik ăn laa laarnă waarăx fooc sjisje tjrï h-uuirje. “Sjin ï nă pusjini djerinææhă fooqas misje. Njï veei sjeeăd sjin egĕ lee toort ditj maarăx.”

Dj eerji sjï acăs dj imi sjï. Nuuirj ă xo sjï ’max, sjgib ă fær ruuă konn don æhăx. Xor sjee gæd in ă xluĕsj. Xa sjee erj ă çooălenj ee. Vï sjee erj ă xladăx qoo luuă leehi-sje. Xo sjisj estjæx ’s ă waad. Vï sjï tærentj erj ă walje. Xo sjesjăn amax na djeei. Erj veeăd ă lljox sjee ï nă hïhe hele lljox sjee çææ huuirj qoo moor ăn ïhĕ sjĕ. Xuuă sjeeăd ă walje. Xuui ă fær ruuă ’n ææitj ă roo ’n moisjter ă llïĕ. “Will tuu dŏ xollu, ă woisjter?” “Nïl mee anisj” ers ă maq ă rjï. “Sjoudj nă pusjini djerinææhă fooc sjisj nă reeirj, acăs, lljooca, ba cræænă nă pusjini ïad ec _lady_ ă veeh boocu.” Ruc sjee erj ă konn acăs xa sjee fwï ’n lljæbwi ee. Nuuirj ă vï ’n brikwasta reei erj madjin hæne sjisj’ ănuuăs lee _flight_. Djesă sjï çih “qoul nă pusjini djerinææhă fooc misj ĕreejrj?” Xor sjee la̧a̧u hærisj fwï ’n lljæbwi. Ruc sjee ăn konn ăn æhi. Xa sjee ’nonns nă qasi. Nuuirj ă hæne sjisje cŏ roo faahax maru, huc sjï _sweep_ awaain; njïr aac sjï taabĕl noo qahirj, noo dædi ă roo erj ă taabele næx djær sjï smolocă dih, vï sjï qoo mïhæstă. “Tææ do nïn ălig buntj oiăm” ers ă maq ă rjï. “Tææ: acăs is tuu ăn cæsjkiăx ’s fæær ă hænik foo mŏ hæx erjïu.”

“_Well!_ ræhæmwidj ă helig enjuh” ers ăn fær ruuă. Xuuă sjeeăd ă helig. Win ăn fær ruuă tjrï buĕltjïn. Rinn sjee tjrï huusjtĕ. Nuuirj ă xŏ sjeeăd ă walje “nisj” ers ă fær ruuă, “tuurj amax do nïn ănsjo.” Huc ă rjï ămax ï. “Kæncel ă qos acăs ă la̧a̧we” ers a fær ruua: “faac na llï ănsjo ï.” D’aac ă rjï nă llï ï. Huc ăn fær ruuă suustje don rjï acas konn dŏ woisjter. “Buuil hise ăn hjeeăd wullje.” Wuuil ă rjï ăn hjeeăd wullje. Vï ăn tjruur ă buuĕlu erj feg tæmăl fadă. Djimi bloirje tjinu ’max æs ă beeăl. “Buuelici liv tjilu. Tææ tjilu intji.” Wuuil sjeeăd lljoofwe cur imi kræp elĕ tjinu ’max æs ă beeăl. “Buuĕlici lif” ers ă fær ruuă. “Tææ konn elĕ intji?” Wuuel sjeeăd lljoofwe cur imi ăn tjrïwe konn. “Nææ buuelici nïs mo̧o̧” ers ăn fær ruua. “Sjin tjrï jïăwăl djimi esjtje. Scïlici ï ’nisj. Tææ sjï qoo saqirj lee æn væn erj a walje.” Scïl sjeeăd ï acăs xor sjeeăd ă llï ï. Vï sjï torsaax ă njeei ă buuelu.

Fuui ă soiert meesje acăs kleerjăx qloihje. Poosu ’n laanawin. D’æn ă fær ruua aqu laa acas blïĕn. Ruucu maq ooc çooif. Nuuirj ă vï ăn laa acăs blïĕn ’stih duuertj ă fær ruua—cur vïhidj lesj ă veeh ’c imææxt. “Nïl is oims” ers ă maq ă rjï cŏdjee jæænhăs misje dŏ jeei. “Oh! njï vee mwillj ort” ers ă fær ruuă; “is qooirj ăn saqru.” “S qooirj” ers a maq ă rjï. “Xoo (?) sjee çææ lljeh dææ wuuirj sjee ă d’æsdoo sjee ee.” “Veerhi mee ăn paaisjdje ălig ’itj” ers ă maq ă rjï: “tææ truui orm ă col ă jæru.” “Njï claqi mee ălig ee” ers ă fær ruuă: “njï claqi mee æx mo warăcă.” Ruc maq a rjï erj ă sjgon (? sjgian) col a jæru. “_Stop_ dŏ laau” ers ă fær ruuă. “Vï tuu heen fuuăscoltjæx. A qiminæx læt ă laa vï tuu col hært lesj ă relig. Vï kærherj ins ă relig acăs qorp ooqu, acăs ïăd ec ærigæl. Vï feeăx erj a xorp. Njï roo sjeeăd sæstă ă xorp ă xor co nnjïălti nă feeăxă. Vï quuig font oiădsă. Huc tuu çooif ee ă xorp a xor. Misje vï ’s ă xooră ăn laa sjin. Nuuirj ă hæne misje hise col ă konn ă _journey_ hænik misj insj ort lee do hææwăl, măr vï tuu heen qoo moih sjin. Pronam do faaisjdj’ ort acăs dŏ xidj ærigidj. Slaan acăs bænææt oiăd. Njï eki tuu æn ouărq orramsă nïs mo̧o̧.”

[_Note._—English words or parts of words retaining their pronunciation are in italics.]

_NOTES._

The spelling of the names in the English is English phonetic, with the exception of the use of J to denote slenderness or softness of the consonant. English readers are now familiar with a similar use of J in the Norwegian name Björnsen. It is equivalent to the consonantal use of English y.

Page 1. The “Gloss Gavlen” means simply the Grey (cow) of the Smith, gavlen being properly gavnen—(gaibhnenn) according to O’Donovan. The first part of the story has no real connection with the second. The Gobaun seer, meaning the Smith-builder, was the famous mythic architect, to whom was attributed the erection of various actual edifices,—of which I can only recall at present the Round Tower of Killala. The latter part of the narrative is a genuine folk-reminiscence of some of the most striking characters and events in the oldest Irish mythology. Balar of the Blows (Bemann) was the leader of the Fohmors, the powers of darkness and evil, in the great battle of the northern Moytura, fought near Sligo, in which they were defeated by Lugh, Balar’s daughter’s son, also called Ildauna—that is “of all arts and sciences,” the Irish Apollo, or culture-hero. Of this name, the appellation of Dul Dauna, the Blind-Stubborn, here bestowed on him, appears to be a curious corruption. It is interesting to compare the whole of this account with that found by O’Donovan in Donegal. (See note to Annals of the Four Masters—year of the world 3330.) It contains no reference to the education by Mananaun Mac Lir, the sea-god. It represents the Gloss as originally the property of the smith, Gavida, which appears to be correct.

Page 5. “Cruahaun of Connaught,” in the modern county of Roscommon, being separated from the nearest part of Ulster by the county of Leitrim, we gain an idea of what a formidable task it was to herd the Gloss. There is no mention of Ulster in the Irish version, but McGinty told me the lake was in that province.

Page 6. “The Kingdoms of the Cold.” This indicates a different geography from that of the opening, in which Balar is located in the East. It seems to identify Balar with the powers of the cold. For a full development of this idea, see the writer’s poem “Moytura,” in “Fand and Other Poems.”

Page 10. “Morraha.” The title is curious. Binn Edin has not been identified (it can hardly be Binn Eadar, Howth), though the mention at the end of “Bioultach” places it on the coast. It occurs in other tales, Connal Gulban for example, and it seems to be famous in this kind of literature. The present tale has, so far as I know, only one printed variant, the “Fis fá an aon Sgeul” of Kennedy, not so interesting, I think, as this. The story having two parts, I have ventured to give the best version of each from two different narrators. Substantially both are alike throughout. In the Renvyle version of the opening, the hero is Brian Boru, the victor of Clontarf, and the enchanter is named Flauheen O’Neill. The woman is Flauheen’s wife. The tone is prosy, all the picturesque incidents relating to the horse being absent. The “story,” however, is better told than in the Achill version, except as regards one point, which supplies the wife’s motive for treating her husband as she did. He had found in the woods a wild-man (geltj), whom he took into his house, cleaned and shaved, and made a servant of. This man became his wife’s lover, and on his detecting the fact, she struck him with a rod of druidism, turning him first into a kitchen block, continually kicked and maltreated. I should have stated in the text that the brief conversation preceding the “story” is from the Achill version. Anshgayliacht, the name of the one-eyed monster who stole the children, was the brother of the champion who came in the currach. This name is strange, as it is simply an sjgeeliaxt—_i.e._, “the story telling.” In the Renvyle version of the conclusion, the hero baffles the enchanter, by pretending to notice some writing on the sword after he has given it to Flauheen. The latter could not read, and gives it back to the other, who immediately cuts his head off. The Achill pretext for not giving the sword up at all,—“though I promised to bring it as far as you, I did not promise to bring it for you,”—is a favourite device in the island. It will be found again in “King Mananaun,” and twice in “The King who had Twelve Sons.”

The word translated “thistles” is snæhĕdi, which usually means needles. The narrator said it meant thistles here.

Page 14. The bells rang: cf.,

“And when in Salamanca’s cave Him listed his magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Dame.”

Page 15. Diversion. The word was so pronounced—not divarsion.

Page 31. “The Ghost and his Wives.” The word translated churchyard usually means “church” only.

Page 35. I know of no parallel to this story as a whole. “Bioultach” probably means “Yellow-hair”—“bwï-oltax.” Is he a solar hero? There is true painting of certain sides of Irish character in this tale; the mutual affection of the brothers, their indifference to larger interests, must be noted.

Page 50. This sea-run is a fairly good specimen of this style of composition. There are several words I am unable to translate. As regards the style of the runs in general in Celtic tales, I am unable to accept the view that it has anything in common with the well-known corrupt literary Irish style. There is this fundamental difference between the two. The bombast and exaggeration of the written literature is seriously given, seriously meant. In the “runs” of the oral literature the whole description is obviously fantastic, and meant for such. Popular taste would never have endured the laboured exaggeration which the pedantry of half-educated scribe composers thought so fine; nor would the outrageous accumulation of alliterative adjectives, in which such persons indulged, have been possible of invention by oral reciters on the spur of the moment. The first of the runs here given shows, by the unintelligibility of part of it, that the narrator was not inventing, but merely giving an imperfect version to the best of his ability. He did not know the meaning of half of it. I now add the Irish of this run, and for the purposes of comparison two others:—

“Hoog sjïĕd suuăs sjoolti mooră, bă qoodjăxi, baa qoodjăxi, maan-jærăcă, mar ă craainj, njïr aaci sjee tjee-tjïrjĕ căn talhu naa hælămoodj căn rooiv lesj nă heegeeălti (?), n’ aaitj ă ră ro̧o̧ntji, mïălti mooră, llopĭdaan acas llapidaan, behi vĕăcă bee-il djærăcă nă farigĕ ec eirji erj wuuesj acăs erj wasj ă wadje ra̧a̧we ă djïĕna kool sjï acăs keluaj çooif feen; cur eirji ăn ærigĕ nă tonni tjreeănă, sa̧a̧v lee sjï, sa̧a̧v lee cloori cafi; lee meedj ăcăs lee bjrææxtje vï ă llonc ă sjoolu, cur sjtrïqaalj sjï quuăn ăcăs’qalhu ĕstjæx cŏ Krjih-nă-Sorrăxă.”

The next is from “King Mananaun” (see page 67):—

“hlljeeăs sjï llonc woor-woxtăx woor-waxtăx cur aardi sjï sjoolti mooră bă qoodjăxĕ baa qoodăxĕ xoo fadă xoo haardj lee barră nă crænn, nær aac sjï tjee-tjïrje can brjisju, madje ra̧a̧we căn reebu, llopidaan acăs llapidaan ec mïalti bĕăcă, mialti mooră nă farige hïr tjææxt enjïr erj qos acăs bos a wadje ra̧a̧we, cŏ duc sjï daa djrïĕn erj sjuul ăcăs tjrïĕn sqoodj, cŏ ră nă æsconi ruuæædăli, quur enjïăxtăr doo ăcăs cannjiv in uuăxtar, cŏ meerhitt sjï erj ă çï ruuă Wart dŏ vï rimpi acăs năx meerhu ăn çi ruuă Wart vï nă djeei orhi; acăs dŏ vï sjï sjoolu nï mï hol dŏ hænik sjï tælu.”

The third is from “The Champion of the Red Belt” (see page 86):—

“Xŏ sjee amax ă hætă; rinn sjee llonc dŏ hæta, qrænn dŏ wată, brată dŏ ljeeni. Hooc sjee hoolti, bŏqĕdje, baqĕdje, cŏ baar nă crann djïrjĕ. Huc sjee oi-i erj mwirj acăs djerju lee tjïrj, njïr aac sjee tjee-tjïrje căn brjisju noo qaabĕlĕ căn reebu, cŏ ră sjee ’c ïsjtjæxt lee sjeetjvææx nă ro̧o̧ntji ăcăs geemnæx nă beesjtji mooră, lee sjcrædi nă wilin; cŏ ro ïăsci bĕăcă beelj djæric nă færige ec eerji erj hosj acăs erj wasj ă wadje raawĕ, cur sjtjuur sjïăd seeăx stjæx fwï xuuirtj acăs xahirj rjï Faahinj.”

Page 48. “The molten torrent,” hile nă rïăxăn. The translation is conjectural. From the context here something fiery is evidently meant. The expression occurs again in “King Mananaun” (page 74), where the narrator thought something very cold was intended.

Page 64. “King Mananaun.” The opening resembles a story of Curtin’s. Mananaun, the sea-god, was a great enchanter; hence, no doubt, the name of the King in this story.

Page 67. “The sea-run.” See note to “Bioultach.”

Page 68. “Faugauns and Blue-Men.” The first word appears to mean outlaws, and to be the origin of the word “fachan” in the Scotch stories, which has hitherto not been understood. Does Blue-men mean men stained with woad?

Page 74. “Nă riaxan.” See note to “Bioultach,” page 48.

Page 76. “Blauheen Blöye” appears to mean simply “smooth blossom.” “The Amber Bracelet.” Amber is not found in Ireland. It was formerly believed to have magical qualities. Pliny says, “True it is that a collar of amber beads worn about the necks of young infants is a singular preservative to them against secret poison, and a counter-charm for witchcraft and sorceries”; also, “The price of a small figure of it exceeds that of a healthy living slave.”

Page 77. “Owas.” The “owas” must be regarded as a distinct personage in Gaelic mythology. They appear to have been human in shape at least. They are met with several times in the Scotch stories, where the word is written “amhus,” pronounced “owas.” They have sometimes definite names, of which an example occurs a little farther on.

Page 78. “Criers” (of the kitchen). I am not sure this is the meaning of “clafirj.” It may mean “gluttons.”

Page 82. This makes the fourth time the hero is killed and revived.

Page 86. “The Champion of the Red Belt.” The general tone of the story is wild and barbarous.

Page 86. “Providence.” The Irish is “an rjï,” a word frequently used in these Donegal stories in this sense.

Page 87. Lochlann is usually supposed to mean Denmark, but is by some held to be a purely mythical country.

Page 91. Another sea-run. See note to Bioultach.

Page 95. “Yard round the court.” Yard is the word in the original; it means wall apparently. There are numbers of English words in this story, such as strain (of music), bride, cupboard, apron, destroy, alley playing ball, slaughter.

Page 100. The description of the hag corresponds closely with that of the “fachan” in the Scotch stories. It is interesting to compare the brief popular description of this monster with the laboured style of the written literature, as may be seen in the description of the hags in the “Cave of Keshcorran,” Mr. S. H. O’Grady’s “Silva Gadelica.”

Page 106. The story of “Jack” has been given as a sample of the humorous story—quite different, it will be seen, from the style of Kennedy, or of any writer who uses “broken English.” I have many others. I do not understand how they come so often to be called “Jack,” as they are, in the Irish.

Page 107. Cleeve, an Irish word for basket.

Page 115. “The Servant of Poverty.” This curious story, with its prosaic details, is chiefly remarkable for the variant it contains of the Cymbeline legend. A version much wilder than this is found in Campbell’s “The Chest.” The tale is thus seen to belong to the three kingdoms. A parallel to the opening incident of the betrothal of two children born at the same time will be found in the story of “The Wicked Greek Girl,” given in Latin in “Silva Gadelica.” Mr. O’Grady says it is not an Irish story.

Page 121. “Collegian.” This is the word in the original, and seems to mean “a swell.” The three sayings about bridge, house, and nag, also occur in Campbell’s “Baillie Lunnain.”

Page 125. “Covered the money”—_i.e._, with her hand: accepted it.

Page 139. “The Son of the King of Prussia.” Perhaps the most remarkable thing in this story is the name. I think if the tale had been written down twenty-five years ago, the name would not have occurred. I believe it to be not older than 1870. In that year Prussia was intensely unpopular in Ireland, owing to the sympathy felt for France; and some one, perhaps M’Grale himself, took this method of showing his dislike for the former country by substituting this name for some other previously borne by the coward.

Page 149. “Crooked-mouth” is simply “Camp-bell,” the order of adjective and noun—Beeăl-qam—being reversed.

Page 152. “Bird-Serpent”—unique, I think.

Page 155. “Beauty of the World.” There is nothing new except in some of the details in this story; but the compact energy of the style is surely remarkable as coming from an unlettered peasant of eighty. Part of the story corresponds with the King of Ireland’s son (Hyde’s Collection). There is also a parallel in Curtin. With regard to the red, white, and black incident, it is worth noting that all primitive ideas of beauty depend on colour alone.

Page 156. “The red-haired young man” ought perhaps to be “the strong young man,” in accordance with Mr. O’Grady’s view.

Pages 160 and 164. “Part of milk and part of blood.” The full meaning is “one-third of milk, one-third of blood, and one-third of urine.”

Page 168. What the meaning of this strange tale may be I cannot conjecture. It is either an allegory—the name “Grig” (gruig) signifies churlishness—or it is a fragment of a rather ghastly piece of mythology. Several things in the translation are conjectural; for the Irish is full of difficulties, as the narrator, before I began to write, warned me would be the case.

Page 172. “Cornelius” is a translation of despair. The Irish is “qornjili.”

Page 173. The word translated “hellebore” is “dææhooh.”

Page 174. This little tale has a close parallel in Grimm, which is why I have printed it. There is also a version in Kennedy.

Page 179. The end of the story is like Kennedy’s “Twelve Wild Geese,” and it has also a close parallel in Grimm. But all the earlier portion has no parallel in either.

Page 187. The names of the three brothers are a little puzzling, as “Inn” seems to be only the aspirated form—the vocative of Fionn which means fair, white; while Glégil means Clear-Bright.

Page 188. This touching tale has a curious far-away resemblance to certain classic legends. A good deal must be lost, and in consequence the long struggle of the young man with the devil has much that requires explanation. It is unique among Celtic stories.

Page 196. “The Djachwi.” I am not sure that this word is anything more than “deachmhadh,” a tithe, which has been turned into a person, the meaning being forgotten. After the briefly told Andromeda episode the story takes a quite novel turn. Its resemblance in structure, as is the case also with some of the other stories, to many a modern novel is very apparent.

Page 203. “The skin of the wild pig.” The Irish of the two last words is “mwike tuusjke.” I am doubtful as to the translation which was given by M’Ginty. In the story of the “Fate of the Children of Tuireann,” one of the tasks imposed on the three brothers is to obtain the skin of a pig having marvellous qualities, which has to be taken from the King of Greece, whose name is Tuis. There appears to be some connection.

Page 211. “The Red Pony.” The word translated pony is, in this tale, “klebisjtjïn”; in the preceding tale it is “plebisjtjïn.” Wonderful “horse-beasts” thus occur four times in this volume. In two stories it will be noted that they are merely human beings, enchanted; in the other two this is apparently not the case. The word rendered “healing water” is, in this, as in all the other stories in which it occurs, “ïqlæntj” (Donegal pron.), which literally means, “cure-health.”