FOOTNOTES

Page 2, line 5,abalta air a ḋeunaṁ= able to do it, a word borrowed from English. There is a great diversity of words used in the various provinces for “able to,” asabalta air(Mid Connacht);inneaṁuil ċum(Waterford);ionánnori ndán, with infinitive (West Galway);’niniḃwith infinitive (Donegal).

Page 4, line 18,ni leigeann siad dam= they don’t allow me.Damis pronounced in Mid Connachtdumm, butdaṁ-sais pronounceddoo-sa. Dr. Atkinson has clearly shown, in his fine edition of Keating’s “Three Shafts of Death,” that the “enclitic” form of the present tense, ending in(e)ann, should only be used in the singular. This was stringently observed a couple of hundred years ago, but now the rule seems to be no longer in force. One reason why the form of the present tense, which ends in(e)ann, has been substituted for the old present tense, in other words, why people saybuaileann sé, “he strikes,” instead of the correctbuailiḋ sé, is, I think, though Dr. Atkinson has not mentioned it, obvious to an Irish speaker. The change probably began at the same time that thefin the future of regular verbs became quiescent, as it is now, I may say, all over Ireland. Anyone who uses the formbuailiḋ séwould now be understood to say, “he will strike,” not “he strikes,” forbuailfiḋ sé, “he will strike,” is now pronounced, in Connacht, at least, and I think elsewhere,buailiḋ sé. Some plain differentiation between the forms of the tenses was wanted, and this is probably the reason why the enclitic form in(e)annhas usurped the place of the old independent present, and is now used as an independent present itself. Line 30,madraormadaḋ alla= a wolf.Cuir forán air= salute him—a word common in Connacht and the Scotch Highlands, but not understood in the South. Line 34.Ḃeiḋeaḋ sé= he would be, is pronounced in Connacht as a monosyllable, likeḃeiṫ(vehorvugh).

Page 6, line 8,earball, is pronouncedrubbalnotarball, in Connacht.Niandníorare both used beforeṫáinigat the present day.

Page 8, line 18.Go marḃfaḋ sé= that he would kill; another and commoner form is,go maróċaḋ sé, frommarḃuiġ, theḃbeing quiescent in conversation. Line 31,aḃruiṫ= broth, pronouncedanṫruiṫ(anhree), theḃhaving the sound of anhonly.

Page 12, line 27.An ċuma iraiḃsóis more used, and is better.Sin é an ċuma a ḃí sé= “That’s the way he was.” It will be observed that thisabefore the past tense of a verb is only, as Dr. Atkinson remarks, a corruption ofdo, which is the sign of the past tense. Thedois hardly ever used now, except as contracted intod’before a vowel, and this is a misfortune, because there is nothing more feeble or more tending to disintegrate the language than the constant use of this colourless vowela. In these folk stories, however, I have kept the language as I found it. Thisahas already made much havoc in Scotch Gaelic, inserting itself into places where it means nothing. Thus, they saytha’s again air a sin: Dinner a b fhearr nasin, etc.Even the prepositiondehas with some people degenerated into thisa, thusta sé a ḋiṫ orm, “I want it,” forde ḋiṫ.

Page 14, line 9. Forairreaduirri. Line 12.seilgmeans hunting, but the reciter said,seilg, sin fiaḋ, “Shellig, that’s a deer,” and thought that Bran’s back was the same colour as a deer’s.Uaine, which usually means green, he explained by turning to a mangy-looking cur of a dull nondescript colour, and sayingta an madaḋ sin uaine.

Page 16, line 30.Bearnaandteanga, and some other substantives of the same kind are losing, or have lost, their inflections throughout Connacht. Line 31.tiġeaċtis used just as frequently and in the same breath asteaċt, without any difference of meaning. It is also spelttuiḋeaċt, but in Mid-Connacht thetis slender, that istiġeaċthas the sound oft’yee-ught, nottee-ught.

Dr. Atkinson has shown that it is incorrect to declineteangaas an-nstem: correct genitive isteangaḋ.Rearta: seerastain O’Reilly. Used in Arran thus:Ní’l sé in rasta duit= you cannot venture to.

Page 18, line 15.Gualmeans a coal; it must be here a corruption of some other word.Muidis frequently used forsinn, “we,” both in Nom. and Acc. all over Connacht, but especially in the West.

Page 20, line 3.Deimuġ(d’yemmo͡o). This word puzzled me for a long time until I met this verse in a song of Carolan’s

Níor ṫuill sé diomuġaḋ aon duine.

another MS. of which readsdíombuaiḋ,i.e., defeat, fromdiprivitive, andbuaiḋ“victory.”Deimuġordiomuġmust be a slightly corrupt pronunciation ofdíombuaiḋ, and the meaning is, that the king’s son put himself under a wish that he might suffer defeat during the year, if he ate more than two meals at one table, etc. Line 15.reasta= a “writ,” a word not in the dictionaries—perhaps, from the English, “arrest.”Cúig ṗúnta. The numeralstri ceiṫre cúigandséseem in Connacht to aspirate as often as not, andalwayswhen the noun which follows them is in the singular, which it very often is. Mr. Charles Bushe, B.L., tells me he has tested this rule over and over again in West Mayo, and has found it invariable.

Page 22, line 2.cá= where, pronounced alwayscé(kay) in Central Connacht. Line 17.má ḃfáġ’ mé= If I get. In Mid-Connacht,máeclipsesfáġ, asnieclipsesfuair.

Page 26, line 18.I dteaċ an ḟaṫaiġ= In the giant’s house.Tiġ, the proper Dative ofteaċ, is not much used now. Line 20.cuaille cóṁraic= the pole of battle.

Page 28, line 9.Trian dí le Fiannuiġeaċt= one-third of it telling stories about the Fenians. Line 10. This phrasesoirm sáiṁ suainoccurs in a poem I heard from a man in the island of Achill—

“’Sí is binne meura ag seinm air teudaiḃ,Do ċuirfeaḋ na ceudta ’nna g-codlaḋ,Le soirm sáiṁ suain, a’s naċ mór é an t-éuċt,Gan aon ḟear i n-Eirinn do ḋul i n-eugLe gráḋ d’á gruaḋ.”

“’Sí is binne meura ag seinm air teudaiḃ,

Do ċuirfeaḋ na ceudta ’nna g-codlaḋ,

Le soirm sáiṁ suain, a’s naċ mór é an t-éuċt,

Gan aon ḟear i n-Eirinn do ḋul i n-eug

Le gráḋ d’á gruaḋ.”

I have never met this wordsoirmelsewhere, but it may be another form ofsoirḃe, “gentleness.” Line 18.Colḃa, a couch, pronouncedcolua(cullooa): here it means the head of the bed.Air colḃameans, on the outside of the bed, when two sleep in it.Leabuiḋ, orleabaiḋ, “a bed,” is uninflected; butleaba, gen.leapṫan, is another common form.

Page 30, line 30.Daḃaċ, “a great vessel or vat;” used also, likesoiṫeaċ, for ship. The correct genitive isdáiḃċe, but my reciter seemed not to inflect it at all.

Page 32, line 14.Haiġ-óiḃir—this is only the English word, “Hie-over.” Line 21.Copóg= a docking, a kind of a weed.

Page 36, line 2.Cloiḋeaṁ na trí faoḃar, “the sword of three edges.” In the last century bothtriand thefaoḃarwould have been eclipsed. Cf. the song, “Go réiḋ, a ḃean na dtrí mbo.”

Page 40, line 33.Íocṡláinte= balsam. Line 25.Ḃuitse, the English word “witch.” The Scotch Gaels have also the word bhuitseachas = witchery. Gaelic organs of speech find it hard to pronounce the Englishtch, and make two syllables of it—it-sha.

Page 42, line 21.Srannfartaiġ= snoring.

Page 44, line 3, forsrónreadṡróin. Line 16.Cruaiḋe= steel, as opposed to iron.

Page 46, line 21.Crap= to put hay together, or gather up crops.

Page 48, line 1.Greim= a stitch, sudden pain.

Page 52, line 15. “Súf!” a common expression of disgust in central Connacht, both in Irish and in English. Line 18.Uile ḋuine. This worduileis pronouncedhullain central Connacht, and it probably gets thishsound from the finalċofgaċ, which used to be always put before it. Father Eugene O’Growney tells me that the guttural sound of thisċis still heard beforeuilein the Western islands, and would prefer to write the word’ċ uile. Whenuilefollows the noun, asna daoine uile, “all the people,” it has the sound ofellikorellig, probably from the original phrase beinguile go léir, contracted intouileg, or even, as in West Galway, into’lig.

Page 54, line 9.Goile= “appetite,” properly “stomach.” Line 30.An ṫrioblóid= the trouble, but better writtenan trioblóid, since feminine nouns, whose first letter isdort, are seldom aspirated after the article. There is even a tendency to omit the aspiration from adjectives beginning with the lettersdandt. Compare the celebrated song ofBean duḃ an ġleanna, notBean ḋuḃ.

Page 56, line 4.Aicíd= a disease. Line 24.D’ḟeiceálandd’innseaċtare usual Connacht infinitives offeicandinnis. Line 21.Caise= a stream. Line 26.Strácailt= dragging along. Line 32.Luiḃearnaċ, often pronounced likeleffernugh= weeds.

Page 60, line 8.Tá beiseacorbiseaċ orm= “I am better;”tá sé fáġail beisiġ, more rightly,bisiġ= He’s getting better. Line 22.Maiseaḋ, pronouncedmusha, notmosha, as spelt, or often evenmushin Central Connacht. Line 28.Marṫain, infinitive ofmair, to live.Cuiḃlint= striving, running a race with.

Page 64, line 4.Tig liom= “it comes with me,” “I can.” This is a phrase in constant use in Connacht, but scarcely even known in parts of Munster. Line 15.Oiread agus toirt uiḃe= as much as the size of an egg. Line 23.As an nuaḋ= de novo, over again.

Page 66, line 2.Ag baint leis an uisge= touching the water.

Page 66, line 15.Moṫuiġ= “to feel.” It is pronounced in central Connacht likemaoiṫiġ(mweehee), and is often used for “to hear;”ṁaoiṫiġ mé sin roiṁe seo= I heard that before. Line 20.Sgannruiġis either active or passive; it means colloquially either to frighten or to become frightened.

Page 68, line 12.Fan mar a ḃfuil tu= waitwhereyou are,fan mar tá tu= remainasyou are. Line 17.Ċor air biṫ, short forair ċor air biṫ, means “at all.” In Munster they sayair aon ċor.

Page 70, line 3.cad ċuige= “why;” this is the usual word in Connacht, often contracted totuige.

Page 72, line 13.Cáṫair-na-mart= Westport.

Page 74, line 7.Lubarnuiġ, a word not in the dictionaries; it means, I think, “gambolling.” Line 20.Ceapaḋ= seize, control. Line 22.Múlaċ= black mud.

Page 76, line 2.Anaċain= “damage,” “harm.” There are a great manysynonyms for this word still in use in Connacht, such asdamáiste, dolaiḋ, urċóid, doċar, etc. Line 16.Breóiḋte= “destroyed.”

Page 78, line 3.Coir, a crime; is pronounced likequirrh.Láiḋe= a loy, or narrow spade.

Page 80, line 5.Ar ḃ leis an teaċ mór= “who owned the big house.”A raiḃ an teaċ mór aige= who had in his possession the big house. Line 21.Truscán tiġe= house furniture. Line 26.’Niḋ Dia ḋuit, short forgo mbeannuiġ Dia ḋuit. Line 27.Go mbuḋ h-éḋuit= “the same to you,” literally, “that it may be to you,” the constant response to a salutation in Connacht.

Page 84, line 22.A gan ḟios dí= “without her knowing it,” pronounced likea gunyis dee. I do not see what the force of thisais, but it is always used, and I have met it in MSS. of some antiquity.

Page 86, line 33.Dá’r ḋéug, pronounceddá réug, short fordá ḟear déag, “twelve men.”Stangaire= a mean fellow.

Page 92, line 10.Bóṫairín cártaċ= a cart road.

Page 94, line 22.Táir=tá tu, an uncommon form in Connacht now-a-days.

Page 66, line 13.Go dtagaiḋanother and very common form ofgo dtigiḋ.

Page 98, line 22.Níor ḟan an sagart aċt ċuaiḋ a ḃaile,i.e.,ċuaiḋ sé aḃaile; the pronounséis, as the reader must have noticed, constantly left out in these stories, where it would be used in colloquial conversation.

Page 100, line 27.Seilḃandseilg; are the ordinary forms ofsealḃandsealgin Connacht.

FOOTNOTES[1]Had Lady Wilde known Irish she might have quoted from a popular ballad composed on Patrick Sarsfield, and not yet forgotten:—A Pádruig Sáirséul is duine le Dia thu’S beannuighthe an talamh ar siúdhail tu riamh air,Go mbeannuigh an ghealach gheal ’s an ghrian duit,O thug tu an lá as láimh Righ’liaim leat.Och ochón.—i.e.,Patrick Sarsfield, a man with God you are,Blessed the country that you walk upon,Blessing of sun and shining moon on you,Since from William you took the day with you.Och, och hone.This would have made her point just as well. Unfortunately, Lady Wilde is always equally extraordinary or unhappy in her informants where Irish is concerned. Thus, she informs us thatbo-banna(meant forbo-bainne, a milch cow) is a “white cow”; that tobar-na-bo (the cow’s well) is “the well of the white cow”; that Banshee comes fromvan“the woman”—(beanmeans “a woman”); that Leith Brogan—i.e., leprechaun—is “the artificer of the brogue,” while it really means the half or one-shoe, or, according to Stokes, is merely a corruption of locharpan; that tobar-na-dara (probably the “oak-well”) is the “well of tears,” etc. Unfortunately, in Ireland it is no disgrace, but really seems rather a recommendation, to be ignorant of Irish, even when writing on Ireland.[2]Thus he over and over again speaks of a slumber-pin asbar an suan, evidently mistaking theanofbioran, “a pin,” foranthe definite article. So he hasslat an draoiachtaforslaitin, orstatán draoigheachta. He saysinnis caol(narrow island) means “light island,” and thatgil an ogmeans “water of youth!” &c.; but, strangest of all, he talks in one of his stories of killing and boiling a stork, though his social researches on Irish soil might have taught him that that bird was not a Hibernian fowl. He evidently mistakes the very common wordsturc, a bullock, or large animal, or, possibly,torc, “a wild boar,” for the bird stork. His interpreter probably led him astray in the best good faith, forsturckis just as common a word with English-speaking people as with Gaelic speakers, though it is not to be found in our wretched dictionaries.[3]Thus: “Kill Arthur went and killed Ri Fohin and all his people and beasts—didn’t leave one alive;” or, “But that instant it disappeared—went away of itself;” or, “It won all the time—wasn’t playing fair,” etc., etc.[4]Campbell’s “Popular Tales of the West Highlands.” Vol. iv. p. 327.[5]Father O’Growney has suggested to me that this may be a diminutive of the Irish wordfathach, “a giant.” In Scotch Gaelic a giant is always called “famhair,” which must be the same word as thefomhoror sea-pirate of mythical Irish history.[6]The manuscript in which I first read this story is a typical one of a class very numerous all over the country, until O’Connell and the Parliamentarians, with the aid of the Catholic prelates, gained the ear and the leadership of the nation, and by their more than indifference to things Gaelic put an end to all that was really Irish, and taught the people to speak English, to look to London, and to read newspapers. This particular MS. was written by one Seorsa MacEineircineadh, whoever he was, and it is black with dirt, reeking with turf smoke, and worn away at the corners by repeated reading. Besides this story it contains a number of others, such as “The Rearing of Cuchulain,” “The Death of Conlaoch,” “The King of Spain’s Son,” etc., with many Ossianic and elegiac poems. The people used to gather in at night to hear these read, and, I am sure, nobody who understands the contents of these MSS., and the beautiful alliterative language of the poems, will be likely to agree with the opinion freely expressed by most of our representative men, that it is better for the people to read newspapers than study anything so useless.[7]Campbell has mistranslated this. I think it means “from the bottom of the well of the deluge.”[8]Campbell misunderstood this also, as he sometimes does when the word is Irish.Siogiadhmeans “fairy.”[9]In a third MS., however, which I have, made by a modern Clare scribe, Domhnall Mac Consaidin, I find “the Emperor Constantine,” not the “Emperor of Constantinople,” written. O’Curry in his “Manuscript Materials,” p. 319, ascribes “Conall Gulban,” with some other stories, to a date prior to the year 1000; but the fighting with the Turks (which motivates the whole story, and which cannot be the addition of an ignorant Irish scribe, since it is also found in the Highland traditional version), shows that its date, in its present form, at least, is much later. There is no mention of Constantinople in the Scotch Gaelic version, and hence it is possible—though, I think, hardly probable—that the story had its origin in the Crusades.[10]I find the date, 1749, attributed to it in a voluminous MS. of some 600 closely written pages, bound in sheepskin, made by Laurence Foran of Waterford, in 1812, given me by Mr. W. Doherty, C.E.[11]An buaċaill do bí a ḃfad air a ṁáṫair.[12]Prof. Rhys identifies Cuchulain with Hercules; and makes them both sun-gods. There is nothing in our story however, which points to Cuchulain, and still less to the Celtic Hercules described by Lucian.[13]An t-éun ceól-ḃinn.[14]Wratislaw’s Folk-Tales from Slavonic Sources.[15]It appears, unfortunately, that all classes of our Irish politicians alike agree in their treatment of the language in which all the past of their race—until a hundred years ago—is enshrined. The inaction of the Parliamentarians, though perhaps dimly intelligible, appears, to me at least, both short-sighted and contradictory, for they are attempting to create a nationality with one hand and with the other destroying, or allowing to be destroyed, the very thing that would best differentiate and define that nationality. It is a making of bricks without straw. But the non-Parliamentarian Nationalists, in Ireland at least, appear to be thoroughly in harmony with them on this point. It is strange to find the man who most commands the respect and admiration of that party advising the young men of Gaelic Cork, in a printed and widely-circulated lecture entitled: “What Irishmen should know,” to this effect:—“I begin by a sort of negative advice. You all know that much has been written in the Irish language. This is of great importance, especially in connection with our early history, hence must ever form an important study for scholars. But you are, most of you, not destined to be scholars, and so I should simply advise you—especially such of you as do not already know Irish—to leave all this alone, or rather to be content with what you can easily find in a translated shape in the columns of Hardiman, Miss Brooke, Mangan, and Sigerson.” So that the man whose most earnest aspiration in life is Ireland a nation, begins by advising the youth of Irelandnotto study the language of their fathers, and to read the gorgeous Gaelic poetry in such pitiful translations as Hardiman and Miss Brooke have given of a few pieces. The result of this teaching is as might be expected. A well-known second-hand book-seller in Dublin assured me recently that as many as 200 Irish MSS. had passed through his hand within the last few years. Dealers had purchased them throughout the country in Cavan, Monaghan, and many other counties for a few pence, and sold them to him, and he had dispersed them again to the four winds of heaven, especially to America, Australia, and New Zealand. Many of these must have contained matter not to be found elsewhere. All are now practically lost, and nobody in Ireland either knows or cares. In America, however, of all countries in the world, they appreciate the situation better, and the fifth resolution passed at the last great Chicago Congress was one about the Irish language.[16]Flash, in Irish,lochán,i.e., little lake, or pool of water. Most story-tellers say, not, “I got thelochán,” but the “clochán,” or stepping-stones.[17]Tint, means a drop, or small portion of liquid, amongst English speaking persons in Connacht and most other parts of Ireland.[18]Gual.[19]This is an idiom in constant use in Gaelic and Irish; but to translate it every time it occurs would be tedious. In Gaelic we say, my share of money, land, etc., for my money, my land.[20]In Irish,geasa—mystic obligations.[21]Geasa, pronouncedgassa, means “enchantment” in this place.[22]Or “the King of N’yiv.”[23]An ordinary Connacht expression, like the Scotch “the noo.”[24]“Oh, Mary,” or “by Mary,” an expression like the French “dame!”[25]To “let on” is universally used in Connacht, and most parts of Ireland for to “pretend.” It is a translation of the Irish idiom.[26]i.e., this quarter of a year.[27]forenent, or forenenst = over against.[28]Narrow spade used all over Connacht.[29]Untranslatable onomatopæic words expressive of noises.[30]These names are not exactly pronounced as written. To pronounce them properly sayyartfirst, and thenyartwith annand acbefore it,n’yartandc’yart.[31]That means “It was well for yourself it was so.” This old Elizabethan idiom is of frequent occurrence in Connacht English, having with many other Elizabethanisms, either filtered its way across the island from the Pale, or else been picked up by the people from the English peasantry with whom they have to associate when they go over to England to reap the harvest.[32]Rath or fort or circular moat.

[1]Had Lady Wilde known Irish she might have quoted from a popular ballad composed on Patrick Sarsfield, and not yet forgotten:—A Pádruig Sáirséul is duine le Dia thu’S beannuighthe an talamh ar siúdhail tu riamh air,Go mbeannuigh an ghealach gheal ’s an ghrian duit,O thug tu an lá as láimh Righ’liaim leat.Och ochón.—i.e.,Patrick Sarsfield, a man with God you are,Blessed the country that you walk upon,Blessing of sun and shining moon on you,Since from William you took the day with you.Och, och hone.This would have made her point just as well. Unfortunately, Lady Wilde is always equally extraordinary or unhappy in her informants where Irish is concerned. Thus, she informs us thatbo-banna(meant forbo-bainne, a milch cow) is a “white cow”; that tobar-na-bo (the cow’s well) is “the well of the white cow”; that Banshee comes fromvan“the woman”—(beanmeans “a woman”); that Leith Brogan—i.e., leprechaun—is “the artificer of the brogue,” while it really means the half or one-shoe, or, according to Stokes, is merely a corruption of locharpan; that tobar-na-dara (probably the “oak-well”) is the “well of tears,” etc. Unfortunately, in Ireland it is no disgrace, but really seems rather a recommendation, to be ignorant of Irish, even when writing on Ireland.

[1]Had Lady Wilde known Irish she might have quoted from a popular ballad composed on Patrick Sarsfield, and not yet forgotten:—

A Pádruig Sáirséul is duine le Dia thu’S beannuighthe an talamh ar siúdhail tu riamh air,Go mbeannuigh an ghealach gheal ’s an ghrian duit,O thug tu an lá as láimh Righ’liaim leat.Och ochón.

A Pádruig Sáirséul is duine le Dia thu

’S beannuighthe an talamh ar siúdhail tu riamh air,

Go mbeannuigh an ghealach gheal ’s an ghrian duit,

O thug tu an lá as láimh Righ’liaim leat.

Och ochón.

—i.e.,

Patrick Sarsfield, a man with God you are,Blessed the country that you walk upon,Blessing of sun and shining moon on you,Since from William you took the day with you.Och, och hone.

Patrick Sarsfield, a man with God you are,

Blessed the country that you walk upon,

Blessing of sun and shining moon on you,

Since from William you took the day with you.

Och, och hone.

This would have made her point just as well. Unfortunately, Lady Wilde is always equally extraordinary or unhappy in her informants where Irish is concerned. Thus, she informs us thatbo-banna(meant forbo-bainne, a milch cow) is a “white cow”; that tobar-na-bo (the cow’s well) is “the well of the white cow”; that Banshee comes fromvan“the woman”—(beanmeans “a woman”); that Leith Brogan—i.e., leprechaun—is “the artificer of the brogue,” while it really means the half or one-shoe, or, according to Stokes, is merely a corruption of locharpan; that tobar-na-dara (probably the “oak-well”) is the “well of tears,” etc. Unfortunately, in Ireland it is no disgrace, but really seems rather a recommendation, to be ignorant of Irish, even when writing on Ireland.

[2]Thus he over and over again speaks of a slumber-pin asbar an suan, evidently mistaking theanofbioran, “a pin,” foranthe definite article. So he hasslat an draoiachtaforslaitin, orstatán draoigheachta. He saysinnis caol(narrow island) means “light island,” and thatgil an ogmeans “water of youth!” &c.; but, strangest of all, he talks in one of his stories of killing and boiling a stork, though his social researches on Irish soil might have taught him that that bird was not a Hibernian fowl. He evidently mistakes the very common wordsturc, a bullock, or large animal, or, possibly,torc, “a wild boar,” for the bird stork. His interpreter probably led him astray in the best good faith, forsturckis just as common a word with English-speaking people as with Gaelic speakers, though it is not to be found in our wretched dictionaries.

[3]Thus: “Kill Arthur went and killed Ri Fohin and all his people and beasts—didn’t leave one alive;” or, “But that instant it disappeared—went away of itself;” or, “It won all the time—wasn’t playing fair,” etc., etc.

[4]Campbell’s “Popular Tales of the West Highlands.” Vol. iv. p. 327.

[5]Father O’Growney has suggested to me that this may be a diminutive of the Irish wordfathach, “a giant.” In Scotch Gaelic a giant is always called “famhair,” which must be the same word as thefomhoror sea-pirate of mythical Irish history.

[6]The manuscript in which I first read this story is a typical one of a class very numerous all over the country, until O’Connell and the Parliamentarians, with the aid of the Catholic prelates, gained the ear and the leadership of the nation, and by their more than indifference to things Gaelic put an end to all that was really Irish, and taught the people to speak English, to look to London, and to read newspapers. This particular MS. was written by one Seorsa MacEineircineadh, whoever he was, and it is black with dirt, reeking with turf smoke, and worn away at the corners by repeated reading. Besides this story it contains a number of others, such as “The Rearing of Cuchulain,” “The Death of Conlaoch,” “The King of Spain’s Son,” etc., with many Ossianic and elegiac poems. The people used to gather in at night to hear these read, and, I am sure, nobody who understands the contents of these MSS., and the beautiful alliterative language of the poems, will be likely to agree with the opinion freely expressed by most of our representative men, that it is better for the people to read newspapers than study anything so useless.

[7]Campbell has mistranslated this. I think it means “from the bottom of the well of the deluge.”

[8]Campbell misunderstood this also, as he sometimes does when the word is Irish.Siogiadhmeans “fairy.”

[9]In a third MS., however, which I have, made by a modern Clare scribe, Domhnall Mac Consaidin, I find “the Emperor Constantine,” not the “Emperor of Constantinople,” written. O’Curry in his “Manuscript Materials,” p. 319, ascribes “Conall Gulban,” with some other stories, to a date prior to the year 1000; but the fighting with the Turks (which motivates the whole story, and which cannot be the addition of an ignorant Irish scribe, since it is also found in the Highland traditional version), shows that its date, in its present form, at least, is much later. There is no mention of Constantinople in the Scotch Gaelic version, and hence it is possible—though, I think, hardly probable—that the story had its origin in the Crusades.

[10]I find the date, 1749, attributed to it in a voluminous MS. of some 600 closely written pages, bound in sheepskin, made by Laurence Foran of Waterford, in 1812, given me by Mr. W. Doherty, C.E.

[11]An buaċaill do bí a ḃfad air a ṁáṫair.

[12]Prof. Rhys identifies Cuchulain with Hercules; and makes them both sun-gods. There is nothing in our story however, which points to Cuchulain, and still less to the Celtic Hercules described by Lucian.

[13]An t-éun ceól-ḃinn.

[14]Wratislaw’s Folk-Tales from Slavonic Sources.

[15]It appears, unfortunately, that all classes of our Irish politicians alike agree in their treatment of the language in which all the past of their race—until a hundred years ago—is enshrined. The inaction of the Parliamentarians, though perhaps dimly intelligible, appears, to me at least, both short-sighted and contradictory, for they are attempting to create a nationality with one hand and with the other destroying, or allowing to be destroyed, the very thing that would best differentiate and define that nationality. It is a making of bricks without straw. But the non-Parliamentarian Nationalists, in Ireland at least, appear to be thoroughly in harmony with them on this point. It is strange to find the man who most commands the respect and admiration of that party advising the young men of Gaelic Cork, in a printed and widely-circulated lecture entitled: “What Irishmen should know,” to this effect:—“I begin by a sort of negative advice. You all know that much has been written in the Irish language. This is of great importance, especially in connection with our early history, hence must ever form an important study for scholars. But you are, most of you, not destined to be scholars, and so I should simply advise you—especially such of you as do not already know Irish—to leave all this alone, or rather to be content with what you can easily find in a translated shape in the columns of Hardiman, Miss Brooke, Mangan, and Sigerson.” So that the man whose most earnest aspiration in life is Ireland a nation, begins by advising the youth of Irelandnotto study the language of their fathers, and to read the gorgeous Gaelic poetry in such pitiful translations as Hardiman and Miss Brooke have given of a few pieces. The result of this teaching is as might be expected. A well-known second-hand book-seller in Dublin assured me recently that as many as 200 Irish MSS. had passed through his hand within the last few years. Dealers had purchased them throughout the country in Cavan, Monaghan, and many other counties for a few pence, and sold them to him, and he had dispersed them again to the four winds of heaven, especially to America, Australia, and New Zealand. Many of these must have contained matter not to be found elsewhere. All are now practically lost, and nobody in Ireland either knows or cares. In America, however, of all countries in the world, they appreciate the situation better, and the fifth resolution passed at the last great Chicago Congress was one about the Irish language.

[16]Flash, in Irish,lochán,i.e., little lake, or pool of water. Most story-tellers say, not, “I got thelochán,” but the “clochán,” or stepping-stones.

[17]Tint, means a drop, or small portion of liquid, amongst English speaking persons in Connacht and most other parts of Ireland.

[18]Gual.

[19]This is an idiom in constant use in Gaelic and Irish; but to translate it every time it occurs would be tedious. In Gaelic we say, my share of money, land, etc., for my money, my land.

[20]In Irish,geasa—mystic obligations.

[21]Geasa, pronouncedgassa, means “enchantment” in this place.

[22]Or “the King of N’yiv.”

[23]An ordinary Connacht expression, like the Scotch “the noo.”

[24]“Oh, Mary,” or “by Mary,” an expression like the French “dame!”

[25]To “let on” is universally used in Connacht, and most parts of Ireland for to “pretend.” It is a translation of the Irish idiom.

[26]i.e., this quarter of a year.

[27]forenent, or forenenst = over against.

[28]Narrow spade used all over Connacht.

[29]Untranslatable onomatopæic words expressive of noises.

[30]These names are not exactly pronounced as written. To pronounce them properly sayyartfirst, and thenyartwith annand acbefore it,n’yartandc’yart.

[31]That means “It was well for yourself it was so.” This old Elizabethan idiom is of frequent occurrence in Connacht English, having with many other Elizabethanisms, either filtered its way across the island from the Pale, or else been picked up by the people from the English peasantry with whom they have to associate when they go over to England to reap the harvest.

[32]Rath or fort or circular moat.

[I use the word “incident” as equivalent to the Germansagzug,i.e., as connoting not only the separate parts of an action, but also its pictorial features.—A.N.]

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