FOOTNOTES:

In another Donegal legend the fairies gain possession of a bride, and would have kept her in captivity had not their plans been frustrated by a mortal. This is the story as told to me near Gweedore, and also at Kincasslagh, a small seaport in the Rosses. Owen Boyle lived with his mother near Kincasslagh, and worked as a carpenter. One Hallow Eve, on his return home, he found a calf was missing, and went out to look for it. He was told it was behind a stone near the spink or rock of Dunathaid, and when he got there he saw the calf, but it ran away and disappeared through an opening in the rock. Owen was at first afraid to follow, but suddenly he was pushed in, and the door closed behind him. He found himself in a company of fairies, and heard them saying: "This is good whisky from O'Donnel's still. He buried a nine-gallon keg in the bog; it burst, the hoops came off, and the whisky has come to us." One of the fairies gave Owen a glass, saying he might be useful to them that night. They asked if he would be willing to go with them, and, being anxious to get out of the cave, he at once consented. They all mounted on horses, and away they went through Dungloe, across the hills to Dochary, then to Glenties, andthrough Mount Charles to Ballyshannon, and thence to Connaught. They came to a house where great preparations were being made for a wedding. The fairies told Owen to go in and dance with any girl who asked him. He was much pleased to see that he was now wearing a good suit of clothes, and gladly joined in the dance. After a time there was a cry that the bride would choose a partner, and the partner she chose was Owen Boyle. They danced until the bride fell down in a faint, and the fairies, who had crept in unseen, bore her away. They mounted their horses and took the bride with them, sometimes one carrying her and sometimes another. They had ridden thus for a time when one of the fairies said to Owen: "You have done well for us to-night." "And little I have got for it," was the reply; "not even a turn of carrying the bride." "That you ought to have," said the fairy, and called out to give the bride to Owen. Owen took her, and, urging his horse, outstripped the fairies. They pursued him, but at Bal Cruit Strand he drew with a black knife a circle round himself and the bride, which the fairies could not cross. One of them, however, stretched out a long arm and struck the bride on the face, so that she became deaf and dumb. When the fairies left him, Owen brought the girl to his mother, and in reply to her questions, said he had brought home one to whom all kindness should be shown. They gave her the best seat by the fire; she helped in the housework, but remained speechless.

A year passed, and on Hallow Eve Owen went again to Dunathaid. The door of the cave was open. He entered boldly, and found the fairies enjoying themselves as before. One of them recognized him, and said: "Owen Boyle, you played us a bad trick when you carried off that woman." "And a pretty woman you left with me! She can neither hear nor speak!" "Oh!" said another, "if she had a taste of this bottle, she could do both!" When Owen heard these words he seized the bottle, ran home with it, and, pouring a little into a glass, gave it to the poor girl to drink. Hearing and speech were at once restored. Owen returned the bottle to the fairies, and, before long, he set out for Connaught, taking the girl with him to restore her to her parents. When he arrived, he asked for a night's lodging for himself and his companion. The mother, although she said she had little room, admitted them, and soon Owen saw her looking at the girl. "Why are you gazing at my companion?" he asked. "She is so like a daughter of mine who died a twelvemonth ago." "No," replied Owen; "she did not die; she was carried off by the fairies, and here she is." There was great rejoicing, and before long Owen was married to the girl, the former bridegroom having gone away. He brought her home to Kincasslagh, and not a mile from the village, close to Bal Cruit Strand, may be seen the ring which defended her and Owen from the fairies. It is a very large fairy ring, but why thegrass should grow luxuriantly on it tradition does not say.

During the Field Club Conference at Rosapenna a variant of this story was told me by a lad on the heights above Gortnalughoge Bay. Here the man who rode with the fairies was John Friel, from Fanad. They went to Dublin and brought away a young girl from her bed, leaving something behind, which the parents believed to be their dead daughter. Meanwhile the young girl was taken northwards by the fairies. As they drew near to Fanad, John Friel begged to be allowed to carry her, and quickly taking her to his own cottage, kept her there with his mother. The girl was deaf and dumb, but there was no mention of the magic circle or of the blow from the fairy's hand. At the end of the year John Friel, like Owen Boyle, pays another visit to the fairies, overhears their conversation, snatches the bottle, and a few drops from it restore speech and hearing to the girl. He takes her to Dublin. Her parents cannot at first believe that she is truly their daughter, but the mother recognizes her by a mark on the shoulder, and the tale ends with great rejoicing.[74]

In these stories we see the relations between fairies and mortals. The fairy man marries a human wife; he appears solicitous for her health,and is willing to pay a high reward to the nurse, but the caution his wife gives to her mother shows her fear of him, and when the latter forgets this warning and speaks to the husband, he effectively stops all intercourse between her and her daughter.

In another story we see that it was the living girl who was carried off, and only a false image left to deceive her parents.[75]It is true that, through the magic of the fairies, she becomes deaf and dumb, but when this is overcome, she returns home safe and sound. The black knife used by Owen Boyle was doubtless an iron knife, that metal being always obnoxious to the fairies.

Stories of children being carried off by fairies are numerous. There was a man lived near Croghan Fort, not far from Lifford, who was short, and had a cataract—or, as the country-people call it, a pearl—on his eye. He was returning home after the birth of his child, when he met the fairies carrying off the infant. They were about to change a benwood into the likeness of a child, saying:

"Make it wee, make it short;Make it like its ain folk;Put a pearl in its eye;Make it like its Dadie."

Here the man interrupted them, throwing up sand, and exclaiming: "In the name of God, thisto youse and mine to me!" They flung his own child at him, but it broke its hinch, or thigh, and was a cripple all its days.

Plate X.[R. Welch, Photo.TORMORE, TORY ISLAND.

Plate X.[R. Welch, Photo.

TORMORE, TORY ISLAND.

It is not often that fairies are associated with the spirits of the departed, but in Tory Island and in some other parts of Donegal it is believed that those who are drowned become fairies. In Tory Island I also heard that those who exceeded in whisky met the same fate.

According to the inhabitants of this island, fairies can make themselves large or small; their hair may be red, white, or black; but they dress in black—a very unusual colour for fairies to appear in. It may perhaps be explained by remembering that Tory Island, or Toirinis, was a stronghold of the Fomorians, whom Keating describes as "sea rovers of the race of Cam, who fared from Africa."[76]I need hardly add that "Cam" is an old name for "Ham." I should infer that the fairies of Tory Island represent a dark race.

King Balor, it is true, is not of diminutive stature. I heard much of this chieftain with the eye at the back of his head, which, if uncovered, would kill anyone exposed to its gaze. He knew it had been said in old times that he should die by the hand of his daughter's son, and he determined his daughter should remain childless. He shut her up in Tormore, with twelve ladies to wait on her. Balor had no smith on the island, but at Cloghanealy, on the mainland, there lived a smith whohad the finest cow in the world, named Glasgavlen. He kept a boy to watch it, but, notwithstanding this precaution, two of Balor's servants carried off the cow. When the herd-boy saw it was gone, he wept bitterly, for the smith had told him his head would be taken off if he did not bring her back. Suddenly a fairy, Geea Dubh, came out of the rock, and told the boy the cow was in Tory, and if he followed her advice he would get it back. She made a curragh for him, and he crossed over to Tory, but he did not get the cow. The tale now becomes confused. We hear of twelve children, and how Balor ordered them all to be drowned, but his daughter's son was saved. The fairy told the herd-boy that, if the child were taken care of, it would grow up like a crop which, when put into the earth one day, sprouts up the next.

The boy took service under Balor, and the child was sent to the ladies, who brought him up for three years. At the end of that time the herd boy took him to the mainland, where he grew up a strong youth, and worked for the smith. On one occasion Balor sent messengers across to the mainland, but the lad attacked them and cut out their tongues. The maimed messengers returned to Tory, and when Balor saw them he knew that he who had done this deed was the dreaded grandson. He set out to kill him; but when the youth saw Balor approaching the forge, he drew the poker from the fire and thrust it into the eye at the back of the King's head.

The wounded Balor called to his grandson to come to him, and he would leave him everything. The youth was wise; he did not go too near Balor, but followed him from Falcarragh to Gweedore. "Are you near me?" was the question put by the King as he walked along, water streaming from his wounded eye; and this water formed the biggest lough in the world, three times as deep as Lough Foyle.

I have given this story as it was told to me by an elderly man in a cottage on Tory Island.

A version of it is related by the late Most Rev. Dr. MacDevitt in the "Donegal Highlands." It is referred to by Mr. Stephen Gwynn, M.P., in "Highways and Byways in Donegal and Antrim," and a very full narrative is given by Dr. O'Donovan in a note in his edition of the "Annals of the Four Masters."[77]Dr. O'Donovan states that he had the story from Shane O'Dugan, whose ancestor is said to have been living in Tory in the time of St. Columbkille. Here we read of the stratagem by which Balor, assuming the shape of a red-haired little boy, carried off the famous cow Glasgavlen from the chieftain MacKineely, and it is not the herdboy, but the chieftain himself, who is wafted across to Tory Island and introduced to Balor's daughter. Three sons are born; Balor orders them all to be drowned, but the eldest is saved by the friendly banshee and taken to his father, who places him in fosterage under his brother, the great smith Gavida. After a time MacKineely falls a victim tothe vengeance of Balor, and is beheaded on the stone Clough-an-neely, where the marks of his blood may still be seen.

Balor now deems himself secure. He often visits the forge of Gavida, and one day, when there, boasts of his conquest of MacKineely. No sooner has he uttered the proud words than the young smith seizes a glowing rod from the furnace and thrusts it through Balor's basilisk eye so far that it comes out at the other side of his head.

It will be noted that in this version Balor's death is instantaneous; nothing is said about the deep lough formed by the water from his eye.

According to O'Flaherty's "Ogygia," Balor was killed at the second battle of Moyture "by a stone thrown at him by his grandson by his daughter from a machine called Tabhall (which some assert to be a sling)."[78]

If Balor is the grim hero of Tory Island, on the mainland we hear much of Finn McCoul. I was informed that he had an eye at the back of his head, and was so tall his feet came out at the door of his house. How large the house was, tradition does not say. The island of Carrickfinn opposite to Bunbeg is said to have been a favourite hunting-ground of Finn McCoul. When crossing over to this island, I was told by the boatman that the Danes were stout, small, and red-haired, and that they lived in the caves. The Finns, he said, were even smaller, dark yellow people.

Near Loughros Bay I saw the Cashel na Fian, but whether it was built by tall or small Finns I do not know. Part of the wall was standing, built in the usual fashion with stones without mortar.

This cashel was on a height, and near it I was shown some old fields, the ridges farther apart than those of the present day, and I was told they might be the fields of those who built the cashel, or perhaps of the Firbolgs. The old man who acted as my guide softened thebin the Irish manner, and spoke of those people as the Firwolgs; he said they were short and stout, and cultivated the lands near the sea.

To the Danes are ascribed the kitchen-middens on Rosguill, and the lad I met above Gortnalughoge Bay, told me they lived and had their houses on the water, I should infer after the fashion of the lake-dwellers. He could not tell me the height of these Danes, but those who built the forts and cashels have often been described to me as short and red-haired. As I have stated on former occasions, I should be inclined to identify these short Danes with the Tuatha de Danann. I visited one of their cashels above Dungiven, under which there is a souterrain, and I also went to one on a hill above Downey's pier at Rosapenna. I believe it is the Downey's Fort marked on the Ordnance Survey map. It appeared to be regarded as an uncanny spot; treasure is said to be hidden under it, and I had a difficulty in getting anyone to take me to it. A little girl, however, acted as guide, and ayoung farmer, who had at first refused, joined me on the top. I took some very rough measurements of this cashel. From the outer circumference it was about 60 by 60 feet; the walls had fallen inwards, so it was impossible to say how thick they had been originally, but the space free from stones in the centre measured about 25 by 25 feet.

The young farmer told me of some rocks at a place he called Dooey, on which crosses were inscribed. I believe that near Mevagh, in addition to the spiral markings, which were visited by many members of the Conference, there is another rock on which crosses are also inscribed.

Firbolgs, Danes, Finns, and Pechts, of whom I have spoken on former occasions, are all strictly human; and if the fairy has been more spiritualized, I think, in many of the traditions, we may see how closely he is allied to ancient and modern pygmies.

Fairies intermarry freely with the human race; they are not exempt from death, and sometimes come to a violent end. At Kincasslagh a graphic story was told me by an old woman of how two banshees attacked a man when he was crossing the "banks" at Mullaghderg. His faithful dog had been chained at home, but, knowing the danger, escaped, saved his master, and killed one of the banshees. Her body was found next morning in the sand: she had wonderful eyes, small legs, and very large feet. I may mention that large feet are characteristic of the Pechts.

It is true that those who are drowned may become fairies, but if a fisherman be missing, who shall say whether he lies at the bottom of the ocean or has been carried captive to a lonely cave. In later times, when the fairies were associated with fallen angels, one who had not received the last rites of the Church might naturally be supposed to become a fairy.

In the tales of the giants we are brought face to face with beings of great strength, but in a low stage of civilization. Balor, we have seen, had no smith on Tory Island, and in a story of the fight between the giant Fargowan and a wild boar, his sister Finglas goes to his assistance with her apron filled with stones. Misled by the echo, she jumps backwards and forwards across Lough Finn until at last her long hair becomes entangled and she is drowned. It is believed that her coffin was found when the railway was being made; the boards were 14 feet long. Sometimes the works of Nature are ascribed to the giants; we have all heard of Finn McCoul as the artificer of the Giant's Causeway, and near Glenties I was shown perched blocks, which had been thrown by the giants. On the other hand, these giants, with all their magic, are often very human; perhaps we are listening to the tales of a small race, who exaggerated the feats of their large but savage neighbours. Writing in 1860, J. F. Campbell, in his introduction to the "Tales of the West Highlands," says: "Probably, as it seems to me, giants are simply the nearest savage race at war with the race who tell the tales.If they performed impossible feats of strength, they did no more than Rob Roy, whose putting-stone is now shown to Saxon tourists ... in the shape of a boulder of many tons."[79]Turning to fairies, the same writer says: "I believe there was once a small race of people in these islands, who are remembered as fairies.... They are always represented as living in green mounds. They pop up their heads when disturbed by people treading on their houses. They steal children. They seem to live on familiar terms with the people about them when they treat them well, to punish them when they ill-treat them.... There are such people now. A Lapp is such a man; he is a little flesh-eating mortal, having control over the beasts, and living in a green mound, when he is not living in a tent or sleeping out of doors, wrapped in his deerskin shirt."[80]

Since these words were written, our knowledge of dwarf races has been greatly increased; their skeletons have been found in Switzerland and other parts of Europe. We are all familiar with the pygmies of Central Africa, and the members of this Club will remember the interesting photographs of them shown by Sir Harry Johnston. Besides the Andamnan Islanders, we have dwarf races in various parts of Asia, and doubtless we have all read with interest the account of the New Guinea dwarfs, sent by the members of the British Expedition, who are investigating that Island under many difficulties.

Dr. Eric Marshall describes these pygmies as "averaging four feet six inches to four feet eight inches in height, wild, shy, treacherous little devils; these little men wander over the heavy jungle-clad hills, subsisting on roots and jungle produce, hunting the wallaby, pig, and cassowary, and fishing in the mountain torrents.... The only metal tool they possessed was a small, wedge-shaped piece of iron, one inch by two inches, inserted into a wooden handle, and answering the purpose of an axe, and with this the whole twenty-acre clearing had been made. None but those who have worked and toiled in this dense jungle can really appreciate the perseverance and patience necessary to accomplish this, for many of the trees are from twelve to fifteen feet in circumference."[81]

Throughout Donegal we find many traces of the primitive belief that men or women can change themselves into animals. At Rosapenna I was told of a hare standing on its hind-legs like an old woman and sucking a cow, the inference being plainly that the witch had transformed herself into a hare. I heard similar stories at Glenties. Here I was told of a man who killed a young seal, but was startled when the mother, weeping, cried out in Irish: "My child, my child!" Never again did he kill a seal.

A story illustrating the same belief is told byJohn Sweeney, an inspector of National Schools, who wrote about forty years ago a series of letters describing Donegal and its inhabitants.[82]In his account of Arranmore he says: "Until lately the islanders could not be induced to attack a seal, they being strongly under the impression that these animals were human beings metamorphosed by the power of their own witchcraft. In confirmation of this notion, they used to repeat the story of one Rodgers of their island, who, being alone in his skiff fishing, was overtaken by a storm, and driven on the shore of the Scotch Highlands. Having landed, he approached a house which was close to the beach, and on entering it was accosted by name. Expressing his surprise at finding himself known in a strange country, and by one whom he had never seen, the old man who addressed him bared his head, and, pointing to a scar on his skull, reminded Rodgers of an encounter he had with a seal in one of the caves of Arranmore. 'I was,' he said, 'that seal, and this is the mark of the wound you inflicted on me. I do not blame you, however, for you were not aware of what you were doing.'"

I fear I have lingered too long over these old-world stories. To me they point to a far-distant past, when Ulster was covered with forests, in which the red deer and perhaps the Irish elk roamed, and inhabited by rude tribes, some of them of dwarfish stature, others tall; but these giants were apparently even less civilized than their smaller neighbours. Wars were frequent; the giant could hurl the unwieldy mass of stone, and the dwarfish man could send his arrow tipped with flint. Even more common was the stealthy raid, when women and children were carried off to the gloomy souterrain. How long did these rude tribes survive? It would be difficult to say; possibly until after the days of St. Patrick and St. Columkill.

I will not, however, indulge in a fancy sketch. The pressing need is not to interpret but to collect these old tales. The antiquary of the future, with fuller knowledge at his command, may be better able to decipher them; but if they are allowed to perish, one link with the past will be irretrievably lost.

FOOTNOTES:[72]Read before the Archæological Section of the Belfast Naturalists' Field Club, February 8, 1911.[73]In "Celtic Folklore," vol. i., p. 210et seq., Sir John Rhys relates a similar story. Here the woman is brought to a place which appears to her to be the finest she has ever seen. When the child is born the father gives her ointment to anoint its eyes, but entreats her not to touch her own with it. Inadvertently she rubs her finger across her eye, and now she sees that the wife is her former maidservant Eilian, and that she lies on a bundle of rushes and withered leaves in a cave. Not long afterwards the woman sees the husband in the market at Carnarvon, and asks for Eilian. He is angry, and, inquiring with which eye she sees him, puts it out with a bulrush.From Palestine we have another variant of this story. The Rev. J. E. Hanauer, in "Folklore of the Holy Land," pp. 210et seq., tells of a woman at El Welejeh who had spoken unkindly to a frog. The next night, on waking, she found herself in a cave surrounded by strange, angry-looking people; one of these "Jân" reproached her bitterly, saying that the frog was his wife, and threatening her with dire consequences unless a son were born. She assisted at the birth of the child, who was fortunately a boy, and was given amukhalehorkohlvessel, and was bidden to rub some of thiskohlon the infant's eyes. When she had done this, she rubbed some on one of her own eyes, but before she had time to put any on the other the vessel was angrily taken from her. She was rewarded with onion-leaves, which in the morning turned to gold. Some time afterwards this woman was shopping at El Kuds, when she saw the Jennizeh pilfering from shop to shop. She spoke to her and kissed the baby, but the other answered fiercely, and, poking her finger into the woman's eye, put it out.[74]In "Guleesh na Guss Dhu," Dr. Douglas Hyde gives us a similar tale from Co. Mayo. See "Beside the Fire," pp. 104-128.[75]In "Folk Tales from Breffny," by B. Hunt, there is a story (pp. 99-103), "The Cutting of the Tree," which tells of how the fairies, when baffled in their endeavour to carry off the mistress of the house, left in the kitchen a wooden image "cut into the living likeness of the woman of the house."[76]Seeante, p. 60.[77]Pp. 18-21.[78]"Ogygia," part iii., chap. xii.[79]Pp. xcix, c.[80]Pp. c, ci.[81]SeeMorning Post, December 28, 1910. In his work, "Pygmies and Papuans," which gives the results of this expedition, Mr. A. F. R. Wollaston also describes these pygmies (see especially pp. 159-161).[82]I was shown a MS. copy of some of these letters by a relative of the writer at Burtonport. I believe they were written for a newspaper, and were afterwards republished in "The Derry People," under the title "The Rosses Thirty Years Ago." They contain much interesting information in regard to the traditions current among the peasantry.

[72]Read before the Archæological Section of the Belfast Naturalists' Field Club, February 8, 1911.

[73]In "Celtic Folklore," vol. i., p. 210et seq., Sir John Rhys relates a similar story. Here the woman is brought to a place which appears to her to be the finest she has ever seen. When the child is born the father gives her ointment to anoint its eyes, but entreats her not to touch her own with it. Inadvertently she rubs her finger across her eye, and now she sees that the wife is her former maidservant Eilian, and that she lies on a bundle of rushes and withered leaves in a cave. Not long afterwards the woman sees the husband in the market at Carnarvon, and asks for Eilian. He is angry, and, inquiring with which eye she sees him, puts it out with a bulrush.From Palestine we have another variant of this story. The Rev. J. E. Hanauer, in "Folklore of the Holy Land," pp. 210et seq., tells of a woman at El Welejeh who had spoken unkindly to a frog. The next night, on waking, she found herself in a cave surrounded by strange, angry-looking people; one of these "Jân" reproached her bitterly, saying that the frog was his wife, and threatening her with dire consequences unless a son were born. She assisted at the birth of the child, who was fortunately a boy, and was given amukhalehorkohlvessel, and was bidden to rub some of thiskohlon the infant's eyes. When she had done this, she rubbed some on one of her own eyes, but before she had time to put any on the other the vessel was angrily taken from her. She was rewarded with onion-leaves, which in the morning turned to gold. Some time afterwards this woman was shopping at El Kuds, when she saw the Jennizeh pilfering from shop to shop. She spoke to her and kissed the baby, but the other answered fiercely, and, poking her finger into the woman's eye, put it out.

From Palestine we have another variant of this story. The Rev. J. E. Hanauer, in "Folklore of the Holy Land," pp. 210et seq., tells of a woman at El Welejeh who had spoken unkindly to a frog. The next night, on waking, she found herself in a cave surrounded by strange, angry-looking people; one of these "Jân" reproached her bitterly, saying that the frog was his wife, and threatening her with dire consequences unless a son were born. She assisted at the birth of the child, who was fortunately a boy, and was given amukhalehorkohlvessel, and was bidden to rub some of thiskohlon the infant's eyes. When she had done this, she rubbed some on one of her own eyes, but before she had time to put any on the other the vessel was angrily taken from her. She was rewarded with onion-leaves, which in the morning turned to gold. Some time afterwards this woman was shopping at El Kuds, when she saw the Jennizeh pilfering from shop to shop. She spoke to her and kissed the baby, but the other answered fiercely, and, poking her finger into the woman's eye, put it out.

[74]In "Guleesh na Guss Dhu," Dr. Douglas Hyde gives us a similar tale from Co. Mayo. See "Beside the Fire," pp. 104-128.

[75]In "Folk Tales from Breffny," by B. Hunt, there is a story (pp. 99-103), "The Cutting of the Tree," which tells of how the fairies, when baffled in their endeavour to carry off the mistress of the house, left in the kitchen a wooden image "cut into the living likeness of the woman of the house."

[76]Seeante, p. 60.

[77]Pp. 18-21.

[78]"Ogygia," part iii., chap. xii.

[79]Pp. xcix, c.

[80]Pp. c, ci.

[81]SeeMorning Post, December 28, 1910. In his work, "Pygmies and Papuans," which gives the results of this expedition, Mr. A. F. R. Wollaston also describes these pygmies (see especially pp. 159-161).

[82]I was shown a MS. copy of some of these letters by a relative of the writer at Burtonport. I believe they were written for a newspaper, and were afterwards republished in "The Derry People," under the title "The Rosses Thirty Years Ago." They contain much interesting information in regard to the traditions current among the peasantry.

Thepopulation of Ulster is derived from many sources, and in its folklore we shall find traces of various tribes and people. I shall begin with a tale which may have been brought by English settlers.

In "Folklore as an Historical Science" Sir G. Laurence Gomme has given several variants of the story of the Pedlar of Swaffham and London Bridge. Most of these come from England, Scotland, and Wales, but among them there are also a Breton and a Norse version. I have found a local variant in Donegal. An elderly woman told me that at Kinnagoe a "toon" or small hamlet about three miles from Buncrana, there lived a man whose name, she believed, was Doherty. He dreamt one night that on London Bridge he should hear of a treasure. He set out at once for London, and when he came there walked up and down the bridge until he was wearied. At last a man accosted him and asked him why he loitered there. In reply, Doherty told his dream, upon which the other said: "Ah, man! Do you believe in drames? Why, I dreamt the other night that at a place called Kinnagoe a pot of gold is buried. Would I go tolook for it? I might loss my time if I paid attention to drames." "That's true," answered Doherty, who now hurried home, found the pot of gold, bought houses and land, and became a wealthy man.

Whether this story embodies an earlier Irish legend I do not know, but I should say that the mention of London Bridge points to its having been brought over by English settlers. Sir G. L. Gomme tells us that "the earliest version of this legend is quoted from the manuscripts of Sir Roger Twysden, who obtained it from Sir William Dugdale, of Blyth Hall, in Warwickshire, in a letter dated January 29, 1652-53. Sir William says of it that 'it was the tradition of the inhabitants, as it was told me there.'"

May not some of the planters brought over by the Irish Society have carried this legend from their English home, giving it in the name Kinnagoe a local habitation?

Most of our folklore comes, however, from a very early period. Our Irish fairy, although regarded as a fallen angel, is not the medieval elf, who could sip honey from a flower, but a small old man or woman with magical powers, swift to revenge an injury, but often a kindly neighbour. No story is told more frequently than that of the old fairy woman who borrows a "noggin" of meal, repays it honestly, and rewards the peasant woman by saying that her kist will never be empty, generally adding the condition as long as the secret is kept. The woman usually observes the condition until herhusband becomes too inquisitive. When she reveals the secret the kist is empty.

Another widespread tale is that of the fairy woman who comes to the peasant's cottage, sometimes to beg that water may not be thrown out at the door, as it comes down her chimney and puts out the fire; sometimes to ask, for a similar reason, that the "byre," or cowhouse, may be removed to another site. In some tales it is a fairy man who makes the request. If it is refused, punishment follows in sickness among the cattle; if complied with, the cows flourish and give an extra supply of milk. In one instance the "wee folk" provided money to pay a mason to build the new cowhouse. We may smile, and ask how the position of the cowhouse could affect the homes of the fairies; but if these small people lived in the souterrains, as tradition alleges, we may even at the present day find these artificial caves under inhabited houses. At a large farmhouse on the border of Counties Antrim and Londonderry I was told one ran under the kitchen. At another farm near Castlerock, Co. Londonderry, the owner opened a trapdoor in his yard, and allowed me to look down into a souterrain. At Finvoy, Co. Antrim, I was shown one of these caves over which a cottage formerly stood. A souterrain also runs under the Glebe House at Donaghmore, Co. Down. The following extract is from a work[84]in preparation, by the Rev. Dr. Cowan, Rector of the parish, who, indescribing this souterrain, writes: "The lintel to the main entrance is the large stone which forms the base of the old Celtic cross, which stands a few yards south of the church. Underneath the cross is the central chamber, which is sixty-two feet long, three feet wide and upwards of four feet high, with branches in the form of transepts about thirty feet in length. From these, again, several sections extend ... one due north terminating at the Glebe House (a distance of two hundred yards) underneath the study, where, according to tradition, some rich old vicar in past times fashioned the extreme end into the dimensions of a wine-cellar."

According to another tradition—an older one, no doubt—this chamber under the study was the dressing-room of the small Danes, who after their toilet proceeded through the underground passages to church. They had to pass through many little doors, down stairs, through parlours, until they came to the great chamber under the cross where the minister held forth. I shall not attempt to guess to what old faith this minister or priest belonged, or what were the rites he celebrated; but the stairs probably represent the descent from one chamber to another, and the little doors the bridges found in some souterrains, and, I believe, at Donaghmore, where one stone juts out from the floor, and a little farther on another comes down from the roof, leaving only a narrow passage, so that one must creep over and under these bridges to get to the end of the cave.

The Danes are regarded by the country people as distinctly human, and yet there is much in them that reminds us of the fairies; indeed, I was told by two old men—one in Co. Antrim, and the other in Co. Derry—that they and the wee-folk are much the same. In a former paper[85]I referred to the difference in dress ascribed to the fairies in various parts of the country. I am inclined to believe that this indicates a variety of tribes among the aboriginal inhabitants. In the fairies who dress in green may we not have a tradition of people who stained themselves with woad or some other plant? These fairies are chiefly heard of in North-East Antrim. In some parts of that county they are said to wear tartan, but in other parts of Ulster the fairies are usually, although not universally, described as dressing in red. Do these represent a people who dyed themselves with red ochre, or who simply went naked? In Tory Island I was told the fairies dressed in black; and Keating informs us that the Fomorians, who had their headquarters at Toirinis, or Tory Island, were "sea-rovers of the race of Cam, who fared from Africa."[86]

Stories of the fairies or wee-folk are to be found everywhere in Ulster, and the Danes are also universally known; but one hears of the Pechts, chiefly in the north-east of Antrim, where theGrogach is also known. The following story was told to me in Glenariff, Co. Antrim:

A Grogach herded the cattle of a farmer, and drove them home in the evening. He was about the size of a child, and was naked. A fire was left burning at night so that he might warm himself, and after a time the daughter of the house made him a shirt. When the Grogach saw this he thought it was a "billet" for him to go, and, crying bitterly, he took his departure, and left the shirt behind him. As I pointed out on a former occasion,[87]in many respects the Grogach resembles the Swiss dwarf. The likeness to the Brownie is also very marked. At Ballycastle I was told the Grogach was a hairy man about four feet in height, who could bear heat or cold without clothing.

Patrick Kennedy has described a Gruagach as a giant, and states that the word "Gruagach" has for rootgruach—"hair," giants and magicians being"furnished with a large provision of that appendage."[88]This Gruagach was closely related to the fairies, and, indeed, we shall find later in a Donegal story a giant ogress spoken of as a fairy woman. In Scotland, as well as in the South of Ireland, the name is Gruagach, but in Antrim I heard it pronounced "Grogach." I was also told near Cushendall that the Danes were hairy people.

One does not hear so much about giants in Antrim as in Donegal, but in Glenariff I was told of four, one of whom lifted a rock at Ballycastle and threw it across the sea to Rathlin—a distance of five or six miles. Great as this feat was, a still greater was reported to me near Armoy,[89]where I was shown a valley, and was told the earth had been scooped out and thrown into the sea, where it formed the Island of Rathlin.

The grave of the giant Gig-na-Gog is to be seen some miles from Portrush on the road to Beardiville.[90]I could not, however, hear anything of Gig-na-Gog, except that he was a giant.

In the stories of giants we no doubt often have traditions of a tall race, who are sometimes represented as of inferior mental capacity. At other times we appear to be listening to an early interpretation of the works of Nature. The Donegal peasant at the present day believes that the perched block on the side of the hill has been thrown by the arm of a giant. In the compact columns of the Giant's Causeway and of Fingal's Cave at Staffa primitive man saw a work of great skill and ingenuity, which he attributed to a giant artificer; and Finn McCoul is credited with having made a stupendous mole, uniting Scotland and Ireland. This Finn McCoul has many aspects. He does notshow to much advantage in the following legend, which I heard on the banks of Lough Salt in Donegal: Finn was a giant but there was a bigger giant named Goll, who came to fight Finn, and Finn was afraid. His wife bade him creep into the cradle, and she would give an answer to Goll. When the latter appeared, he asked where was Finn. The wife replied he was out, and she was alone with the baby in the cradle. Goll looked at the child, and thought, if that is the size of Finn's infant, what must Finn himself be? and without more ado he turned and took his departure.[91]This Finn had an eye at the back of his head, and was so tall his feet came out at the door of his house. We are not told, however, what was the size of the house.

Plate XI.[R. Welch, Photo.VALLEY NEAR ARMOY, WHENCE, ACCORDING TO LEGEND, EARTH WAS TAKEN TO FORM RATHLIN.

Plate XI.[R. Welch, Photo.

VALLEY NEAR ARMOY, WHENCE, ACCORDING TO LEGEND, EARTH WAS TAKEN TO FORM RATHLIN.

In this tale Finn shows little courage, but as a rule he is represented as a noted hero. I was told a long story at Glenties in Donegal of the three sons Finn had by the Queen of Italy. He hadseen her bathing in Ireland, and he stole her clothes, so she had to stay until she could get them back. After a time she found them, and returned to her own country, where she gave birth to three sons—Dubh, Kian, and Glasmait. When they were fourteen years of age the King of Italy sent them away that they might go to their father Finn.

They arrived in Ireland, and when Finn saw them he said: "If those three be the sons of a King, they will come straight on; if not, they will ask their way." The lads came straight on, knelt before Finn, and claimed him as their father. He asked them who was their mother, and when they said the Queen of Italy, Finn remembered the stolen clothes, and received them as his sons.

One day the followers of Finn could not find his dividing knife, and Dubh determined to go in search of it. He put a stick in the fire, and said he would be back before the third of it was burnt out. He followed tracks, and came to a house where there was a great feast. He sat down among the men, and saw they were cutting with Finn's knife. It was passed from one to another until it came to Dubh, who, holding it in his hand, sprang up and carried it off.

When Dubh got home he wakened Kian and said: "My third of the stick is burnt, and now do you see what you can do." Kian followed the tracks, and got to the same place. He found the men drinking out of a horn. One called for whisky, another for wine, and whatever was asked,the horn gave. Kian heard them say it was Finn's horn, and that his knife had been carried off the previous night. Kian waited, and when the horn came he grasped it tightly and ran off home, where he found his third of the stick was burnt. He waked Glasmait, and told him two-thirds of the night had passed, and it was now his turn to go out. Glasmait followed the same tracks, but when he came to the house blood was flowing from the door, and, looking in, he saw the place full of corpses. One man only remained alive. He told Glasmait how they had all been drinking when someone ran off with Finn McCoul's horn. "One man blamed another," he said; "they quarrelled and fought until everyone was killed except myself. Now I beseech you throw the ditch[92]upon me and bury me. I do not wish to be devoured by the fairy woman, who will soon be here. She is an awful size, and upon her back is bound Finn McCoul's sword of light,[93]which gives to its possessor the strength of a hundred men." The man gave Glasmait some hints to aid him in the coming fight, and added: "Now I have told you all, bury me quick."

Glasmait threw the ditch upon him, and hid himself in a corner. The Banmore, or large woman, now came in, and began her horrible repast. She chose the fat men; three times she lifted Glasmait,but rejected him as too young and lean. At last she lay down to sleep. Glasmait followed the advice he had received. He touched her foot, but jumped aside to avoid the kick. He touched her hand, but jumped aside to avoid her slap. When she was again asleep, he drew his sword and cut the cords which bound the sword of light to her back, and seized upon it. She roused herself, and for two hours they fought, until in the end Glasmait ripped open her body, when, behold, three red-haired boys sprang out and attacked him. He slew two of them, but the third escaped. Glasmait returned home with the sword of light, and found his third of the stick burnt.

The three sons now presented their father with the dividing knife, the drinking horn, and the sword of light, and there was great rejoicing that these had been recovered.

Some time after this a red-haired boy appeared, and begged to be taken into Finn's service for a twelvemonth, saying he could kill birds and do any kind of work. When asked what wages he looked for, he replied that he hoped when he died, Finn and his men would put his body in a cart, which would come for it, and bury him where the cart stopped.

The red-haired boy worked well, but at the end of the year he suddenly died. A cart drawn by a horse appeared, and Finn and his men tried to place the body in it; but it could not be moved until the horse wheeled round and did the workitself, starting immediately afterwards with its load. Finn and his men followed, but a great mist came on, so that they could not see clearly. At last they arrived at an old, black castle standing in a glen. Here they found the table laid, and sat down to eat, but before long the red-haired boy appeared alive, and cried vengeance upon Finn and his sons. The men tried to draw their swords, but found them fastened to the ground, and the red-haired boy cut off fifty heads.

Now, however, the great Manannan appeared. He bade the red-haired boy drop his sword, or he would give him a slap that would turn his face to the back of his head. He also bade him replace the heads on the fifty men. The red-haired boy had to submit, and after that he troubled Finn no more. Manannan dispelled the mist, and brought Finn and his men back to their own home, where they feasted for three days and three nights.

This somewhat gruesome story contains several points of interest. The stealing of the clothes is an incident which occurs with slight variations in many folk-tales. In "The Stolen Veil"[94]Musäus tells us how the damsel of fairy lineage was detained when her veil was carried off, and it was only after she had recovered it that she was able, in the guise of a swan, to return to her home.

We have read, too, of how the Shetlander captured the sealskin of the Finn woman, without which she could not return as a seal to her husband.[95]It should also be noted that the fairy ogress is a large woman, apparently a giantess, while her three sons have the red hair so often associated with the fairies. At the end of the tale Finn and his men are saved by Manannan, the Celtic god of the sea, who has given his name to the Isle of Man. In Balor of Tory Island the great Fomorian chief, we have another giant, with an eye at the back of his head, which dealt destruction to all who encountered its gaze. I was told in Tory Island that when Balor was mortally wounded water fell so copiously from his eye that it formed the biggest lough in the world, deeper even than Lough Foyle.[96]

These giants belonged to an olden time and a very primitive race. They have passed away, and are no longer like the fairies—objects of fear or awe.

The fairies, being believed to be fallen angels, are especially dreaded on Hallow Eve night. In some places oatmeal and salt are put on the heads of the children to protect them from harm. I first heard of this custom in the valley of the Roe, where there are a large number of forts said tobe inhabited by the fairies. The neighbourhood of Dungiven on that river is rich in antiquities. I was told there was a souterrain under the Cashel or "White Fort," said to have been built by the Danes. There is another under Carnanban Fort, and not far from this there are the stone circles at Aghlish. An old woman of ninety-six showed them to me, and said it was a very gentle[97]place, and it would not be safe to take away one of the stones.

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