THE RED PONY.

[14]It must be supposed that the druid gave him further directions for his conduct as appears by the sequel.[15]Piast is a Gaelic monster, not exactly equivalent to either serpent or dragon.[16]i.e., the cause of her journey.[17]The narrator’s memory failed him at this point, and he was unable to relate the further developments of this remarkable game of plot and counterplot. Although the hen-wife was successful in the last event mentioned, it must be inferred that she was ultimately defeated. I believe there are other deficiencies in the story. One hears nothing more of the skin of the wild pig after its first mention, p. 203. The same remark applies to the Gruagach of the Apple, p. 206. On the other hand, “the divided stone of druidism” is brought in without explanation. It had not been asked for.

[14]It must be supposed that the druid gave him further directions for his conduct as appears by the sequel.

[15]Piast is a Gaelic monster, not exactly equivalent to either serpent or dragon.

[16]i.e., the cause of her journey.

[17]The narrator’s memory failed him at this point, and he was unable to relate the further developments of this remarkable game of plot and counterplot. Although the hen-wife was successful in the last event mentioned, it must be inferred that she was ultimately defeated. I believe there are other deficiencies in the story. One hears nothing more of the skin of the wild pig after its first mention, p. 203. The same remark applies to the Gruagach of the Apple, p. 206. On the other hand, “the divided stone of druidism” is brought in without explanation. It had not been asked for.

Narrator,P. Minahan, Malinmore, co. Donegal.

There was a poor man there. He had a great family of sons. He had no means to put them forward. He had them at school. One day, when they were coming from school, he thought that whichever of them was last at the door he would keep him out. It was the youngest of the family was last at the door. The father shut the door. He would not let him in. The boy went weeping. He would not let him in till night came. The father said he would never let him in; that he had boys enough.

The lad went away. He was walking till night. He came to a house on the rugged side of a hill on a height, one feather giving it shelter and support. He went in. He got a place till morning. When he made his breakfast in the morning, he was going. The man of the house made him a present of a red pony, a saddle, and bridle. He went riding on the pony. He went away with himself.

“Now,” said the pony, “whatever thing you may see before you, don’t touch it.”

They went on with themselves. He saw a light before him on the high-road. When he came as far as the light, there was an open box on the road, and a light coming up out of it. He took up the box. There was a lock of hair in it.

“Are you going to take up the box?” said the pony.

“I am. I cannot go past it.”

“It’s better for you to leave it,” said the pony.

He took up the box. He put it in his pocket. He was going with himself. A gentleman met him.

“Pretty is your little beast. Where are you going?”

“I am looking for service.”

“I am in want of one like you, among the stable boys.”

He hired the lad. The lad said he must get room for the little beast in the stable. The gentleman said he would get it. They went home then. He had eleven boys. When they were going out into the stable at ten o’clock each of them took a light but he. He took no candle at all with him.

Each of them went to his own stable. When he went into his stable he opened the box. He left it in a hole in the wall. The light was great.It was twice as much as in the other stables. There was wonder on the boys what was the reason of the light being so great, and he without a candle with him at all. They told the master they did not know what was the cause of the light with the last boy. They had given him no candle, and he had twice as much light as they had.

“Watch to-morrow night what kind of light he has,” said the master.

They watched the night of the morrow. They saw the box in the hole that was in the wall, and the light coming out of the box. They told the master. When the boys came to the house, the king asked him what was the reason why he did not take a candle to the stable, as well as the other boys. The lad said he had a candle. The king said he had not. He asked him how he got the box from which the light came. He said he had no box. The king said he had, and that he must give it to him; that he would not keep him unless he gave him the box. The boy gave it to him. The king opened it. He drew out the lock of hair, in which was the light.

“You must go,” said the king, “and bring me the woman, to whom the hair belongs.”

The lad was troubled. He went out. He told the red pony.

“I told you not to take up the box. You will get more than that on account of the box.When you have made your breakfast to-morrow, put the saddle and bridle on me.”

When he made his breakfast on the morning of the morrow, he put saddle and bridle on the pony. He went till they came to three miles of sea.

“Keep a good hold now. I am going to give a jump over the sea. When I arrive yonder there is a fair on the strand. Every one will be coming up to you to ask for a ride, because I am such a pretty little beast. Give no one a ride. You will see a beautiful woman drawing near you, her in whose hair was the wonderful light. She will come up to you. She will ask you to let her ride for a while. Say you will and welcome. When she comes riding, I will be off.”

When she came to the sea, she cleared the three miles at a jump. She came upon the land opposite, and every one was asking for a ride upon the beast, she was that pretty. He was giving a ride to no one. He saw that woman in the midst of the people. She was drawing near. She asked him would he give her a little riding. He said he would give it, and a hundred welcomes. She went riding. She went quietly till she got out of the crowd. When the pony came to the sea she made the three-mile jump again, the beautiful woman along with her. She took her home to the king. There was great joy on the king to see her. He took her into the parlour. She saidto him, she would not marry any one until he would get the bottle of healing water that was in the eastern world. The king said to the lad he must go and bring the bottle of healing water that was in the eastern world to the lady. The lad was troubled. He went to the pony. He told the pony he must go to the eastern world for the bottle of healing water that was in it, and bring it to the lady.

“My advice was good,” said the pony, “on the day you took the box up. Put saddle and bridle on me.”

He went riding on her. They were going till they came to the sea. She stood then.

“You must kill me,” said the pony; “that, or I must kill you.”

“It is hard to me to kill you,” said the boy. “If I kill you there will be no way to myself.”

He cut her belly down. He opened it up. She was not long opened when there came two black ravens and one small one. The two ravens went into the body. They drank their fill of the blood. When they came out the little raven went in. He closed the belly of the pony. He would not let the little bird come out till he got the bottle of healing water was in the eastern world. The ravens were very troubled. They were begging him to let the little bird out. He said he would not let it out till they broughthim the bottle. They went to seek the bottle. They came back and there was no bottle with them. They were entreating him to let the bird out to them. He would not let the bird out till he got the bottle. They went away again for the bottle. They came at evening. They were tossed and scorched, and they had the bottle. They came to the place where the pony was. They gave the bottle to the boy. He rubbed the healing water to every place where they were burned. Then he let out the little bird. There was great joy on them to see him. He rubbed some of the healing water to the place where he cut the pony. He spilt a drop into her ear. She arose as well as she ever was. He had a little bottle in his pocket. He put some of the healing water into it. They went home.

When the king perceived the pony coming he rose out. He took hold of her with his two hands. He took her in. He smothered her with kisses and drowned her with tears: he dried her with finest cloths of silk and satin.

This is what the lady was doing while they were away. She boiled pitch and filled a barrel, and that boiling. Now she went beside it and stripped herself. She rubbed the healing water to herself. She came out; she went to the barrel, naked. She gave a jump in and out of the barrel. Three times she went in and out. She said she wouldnever marry any one who could not do the same. The young king came. He stripped himself. He went to the barrel. He fell half in, half out.

He was all boiled and burned. Another gentleman came. He stripped himself. He gave a jump into the barrel. He was burned. He came not out till he died. After that there was no one going in or out. The barrel was there, and no one at all was going near it. The lad went up to it and stripped himself. He rubbed the healing water on himself. He came to the barrel. He jumped in and out three times. He was watching her. She came out. She said she would never marry any one but him.

Came the priest of the pattens, and the clerk of the bells. The pair were married. The wedding lasted three nights and three days. When it was over, the lad went to look at the place where the pony was. He never remembered to go and see the pony during the wedding. He found nothing but a heap of bones. There were two champions and two young girls playing cards. The lad went crying when he saw the bones of the pony. One of the girls asked what was the matter with him. He said it was all one to her; that she cared nothing for his troubles.

“I would like to get knowledge of the cause why you are crying.”

“It is my pony who was here. I never rememberedto see her during the wedding. I have nothing now but her bones. I don’t know what I shall do after her. It was she who did all that I accomplished.”

The girl went laughing. “Would you know your pony if you saw her?”

“I would know,” said he.

She laid aside the cards. She stood up.

“Isn’t that your pony?” said she.

“It is,” he said.

“I was the pony,” said the girl, “and the two ravens who went in to drink my blood my two brothers. When the ravens came out, a little bird went in. You closed the pony. You would not let the little bird out till they brought the bottle of healing water that was in the eastern world. They brought the bottle to you. The little bird was my sister. It was my brothers were the ravens. We were all under enchantments. It is my sister who is married to you. The enchantments are gone from us since she was married.”

Narrator,P. Minahan, Malinmore, co. Donegal.

There was a king and a queen. They had but one son. The queen died. He married another queen. The queen was good to the child. She took care of him till he was a young man. She sent him away to learn chivalry. When he came home there was great joy on the queen. When he had rested at home, he and the huntsman went hunting on the mountain. They found no game at all. They came to the lake. They sat down on a height beside the lake. They saw three swans coming towards the height. They rested on the lake. They swam in under the place where they were sitting. They came on the shore. They threw off them the transforming caps. They arose the three maidens. One woman of them was very comely. They came up to the young men. The comely woman was there. She and the king’s son were talking until night. When they were going she asked him would hebe there the next day. He said he would. The women went on the shore. They put on the transforming caps. They went away the three swans. The young men came home. There was great joy on the young queen. She asked the huntsman what kind of sport they had. He said they had none at all; that three swans came from the eastern direction; that they had settled on the lake; that they swam in to the place where they were sitting; that they rose up on the beach; that they threw off the transforming caps; that they rose the three maidens; that one of them was very beautiful; that he himself and the king’s son were talking with the girl.

The young queen said they were done with his master. “I will give you five pounds if you put the slumber-pin in his clothes. He will fall asleep then. She won’t get a word of talk from him. He will be sleeping.”

The young man said he would do it. They took their supper. They went to lie down. When day came they arose. They washed themselves. They took their breakfast. They went hunting. They found no sport at all till they came to the lake. They sat down on a pretty hillock. They saw the three swans coming. They settled on the lake. They came in on the shore. They threw off them the transforming caps. They rose the three maidens. When theson of the king and the huntsman sat down, the huntsman put the slumber-pin in his clothes. He fell asleep. The girls came up. They sat by his side.

“Great is the sleep that’s on your master to-day.”

“That is no wonder for him,” said the huntsman. “He does not sleep one night at home, but is out rambling and courting.”

She was shaking him to wake him. She failed to wake him till it was time for her to be going. She said to the young man, “Tell your master we will come here to-morrow; unless he is awake to-morrow to speak to us, we will come no more.”

They went away then. They put on them the transforming caps. They went away again the three swans. The young man took out the slumber-pin from his master’s clothes. He awoke then. They went home then. He was not speaking a word. The young queen asked the huntsman how it happened with him to-day? He said it happened well; that he put him asleep to-day.

“A good man you are,” said she. “Here are five pounds more for you. Do the same to-morrow.”

They took their supper. They went to lie down. When the day came on the morrow, they arose and took their breakfast. The king’s sonsaid to the huntsman that he would not go with him to-day; that it was he was doing something or other to him.

“It is not I,” said the huntsman.

The king’s son went out. The huntsman followed him. When they were coming near the lake, he could not fasten the slumber-pin in him. When they were coming to the place where they sat he threw the slumber-pin. He got it fastened in his frock. He fell asleep on the instant. He took hold of him; he drew him to the place where they used to sit. He sat down by his side. The three swans came. They settled on the lake. They swam in to the shore. They threw off them the transforming caps. They rose the three maidens. They came again to the place where the young men were.

“Is your master asleep to-day?”

“He is; he has not slept a wink at home for three nights.”

She was shaking him to try if she could wake him. She failed. When she was going, “Say to your master that he will never see sight of me while streams run or grass grows.”

They went away then. The huntsman took the slumber-pin out. Then he awoke. He looked up at the sun. Night was at hand. He asked were the maidens there that day. The young man said they were.

“What did they say when they were going?”

“They said you would never have a sight of them while streams run or grass grows.”

“Don’t come near me or I will kill you.”

Fear would not let the huntsman come near him. They went home then. The young queen asked the young man were the maidens with them that day. The young man said they were.

“What did they say to you?”

“They said you would not see a sight of them while streams run or grass grows.”

“You are done with her,” said the queen.

They took their supper then and went to lie down. When the day came he arose and washed. He took his breakfast. He said good-bye to them. He said he would not sleep a second time for one night in one house; that he would wear his legs to his knees till he got one sight of that woman.

He went with himself then. He was walking till it was night. He saw not a house at all that would give him lodging. He saw one house on the side of a hill, one feather giving it support and shelter. He went into the house. A horse-beast spoke to him from the side. He gave welcome to the son of the King of Erin.

“Go down to the fire and warm yourself; when you have warmed yourself, go to the room, and there is food and drink on the table: don’t beafraid of anything at all. Nothing will happen to you till morning. When you have eaten enough come down and lie here on the grass under my head that I may talk with you.”

He came down and sat on the grass: “Have no wonder at anything you see.”

It was not long till he heard a troop coming into the house. Three seals came in. They came into the room. They threw off the transforming caps. They sat down to dinner. The son of the king wondered when he saw the three seals coming in. It was not long till he heard them talking and laughing. Said the eldest of them,—

“If I had the son of the King of Erin here I would give on him a gift. I would give him an apple. There is not a going astray, nor any (trouble), let him throw the apple in the air, there would come a court and castle in the track; there would come food and drink in the track.”

Said the second son, “If I had the son of the King of Erin here, I would give him a ring; and there is not a battle or breaking that would come on him, let him raise the ring between himself and his (enemies) he would blind them and kill them all.”

Said the son that was youngest, “If I had the son of the King of Erin here, I would give him the nine-legged steed for his riding.”

“Get up now,” said the nine-legged steed; “get up and shake yourself out of the grass. Go forward. You will find three champions as handsome as ever you saw. Salute them as politely as you can. Tell them you hope they will not be worse than their promise.”

He went forward and saluted them. He took them by the hand. He sat in their company till morning. When the day came they were going. They left a breakfast on the table. They gave him the three gifts. They went then and put on the transforming caps. They went away as three seals. The son of the king came down then, and sat under the beast’s head.

“Now,” said the nine-legged steed, “I have one fault, that a rider never gets on me but I must throw him three times. When you take your breakfast, get a saddle and bridle; put them on me. Take me down to the soft ground; go riding on me, and I must throw you.”

He took his breakfast. He went riding on her then. She asked him if he was ready. He said he was.

“I will throw you as gently and quietly as I can.”

She walked a couple of steps. She lifted her rump and flung him. He was jerked up into the air, and fell down on the back of his head.

She came about him. “I believe you are killed.”

“I am not,” said he. “I am none the worse.”

“You are a good man,” said she; “if you stand two other tumbles I will never throw you again.”

When he was rested, he went riding again. She lifted her rump again, and jerked him into the air. She came about him to see if he was killed. “I believe you are killed.”

“I am none the worse,” said he.

“If you stand one more tumble, I will never throw you again.”

He rested himself. He went riding again. She asked him if he was ready. He said he was. She flung him again and tossed him into the air. He fell down on the back of his head. She looked about to see if he was alive. “Now,” said she, “I will never throw you again. Now when you are rested, and you run to your riding, do not pull the bridle on my head. I know where you are going. I will bring you to the place you are drawing to.”

She stretched herself to her full speed and red running;So that she took the hill at a leap, the glen at a standing jump:So that she overtook the wind that was before her,And the wind behind did not overtake her:Till the cups of her two knees were rubbing her two jaws bare:So greatly she was running,

She stretched herself to her full speed and red running;

So that she took the hill at a leap, the glen at a standing jump:

So that she overtook the wind that was before her,

And the wind behind did not overtake her:

Till the cups of her two knees were rubbing her two jaws bare:

So greatly she was running,

till she came to the door of the king.

“Give me to no one whatever till a red boy comes,” said the nine-legged steed.

The king rose out. He gave welcome to the son of the King of Erin. Boys came up to the horse to put her in the stable. He did not give her to them. A red boy came. He asked would he give her to him. She told him to give her. They came into the parlour.

He got dinner then. He was eating and drinking till it was well on in the night. The king said then that he had an island, and that he gained nothing by it for a long time: that Owases were risen up on it.

“I am not going to give my daughter to any one who does not kill them and clear the island.”

“We will throw a look around to-morrow,” said the son of the King of Erin.

When he took breakfast on the morrow-morning, he went out to the nine-legged steed. She told him what was to be done.

“Put saddle and bridle on me: go riding on me. There are three miles of sea between the land and the island. I will clear the three miles at a leap. Tie me to the stump of a tree.”

She went forward then, and he had the ring in his hand. The first Owas man that met him, he raised the ring between himself and him, and blinded him. He was killing and slaughteringtill he killed the last on the island. He went down to the nine-legged steed. He went riding on her then, and she cleared the three miles. She told him not to look behind him till he came to the king’s door. When he came up to the gate there was thunder and lightning, and he thought the mid-heaven was falling, such was the rattle. There was a great sink of mud at the door of the hen-wife, and when he was going past by the door he looked behind to see if there was anything. He fell into the mud and filth. He got up with dirt and sores on his skin. He was all covered with them.

The daughter of the hen-wife asked leave of her mother to pull him in, or the pigs would tear him. Her mother told her to do it. She pulled him in. She put a wisp of straw under him.

He asked her to go under the window of the greenawn on her two knees. “Ask the girl is there anything at all to do me good, if she hopes to see the man she left behind her at the fountain.”

The girl said, “Go into my father’s garden. There is a well of fresh water there. There are rushes beside the well. Pull three stalks. Cut the white root. Get a bowl. Raise the full of the bowl out of the well. Rub the white roots in the water until they are melted. Rub the water to his skin. He will be as well as ever he was.”

She rubbed the water then on every part of his body. He was as well as he ever was. He had nothing to put on him but old clothes. There was a butler in the great house. He saw the king’s son falling. He ran to the place. He took away his clothes. He threw him his own clothes. The king’s son had nothing to put on him but the butler’s clothes. He went to the house of the king, and he was at work like the butler. The butler was in the king’s house in the place of the son of the King of Erin. The king thought it was the son of the King of Erin that was with him. He published word through the island to come to the wedding. The gentlemen were gathered the next day. They went fowling. The king’s son was carrying the dogs’ food. There came a mist on the hill, and they lost their way. They said they would be lost. The man who was carrying the dogs’ food said to the king that if he would give him his daughter in marriage he would save them all till morning. The king said his daughter was given to a gentleman who had come there. The gentlemen then said that they would all be dead in the morning, and it was better for him to tell a lie and to save them.

“Well! I will give you my daughter if you save us,” said the king.

He threw down the bag with the dogs’ food.Then he got the apple that he had as a gift. He threw it into the air. Where the apple fell there rose a court and castle. There came food and drink enough for a hundred men. They were hungry, and they ate enough and drank enough. Then they fell asleep. When they woke in the morning, they were lying in a smooth flat of rushes, and they sweating. There was great joy on them. The gentleman then said he should get the woman. When the butler came he had no wife to get. He was vexed. He went home then, and the woman who was in the greenawn said she would not marry a man at all, but the man who would ride the nine-legged steed under the window of the greenawn. The report went out through the island that any man at all who would ride the nine-legged steed, had the king’s daughter to get. The people were all gathered. There was a great gathering there. The red boy brought out the nine-legged steed under the windows of the greenawn. The butler would let no one ride till he went riding himself the first time. Then he went riding on her. The nine-legged steed asked him was he ready; he said he was. She lifted her rump and jerked him up in the air. He fell and was killed. Then there was another rider then and he went riding. She played the same trick with him. She was there, and no one at all was going to ride on her. The king’s sonwent, and bought himself clothes. He put them on. He went riding then on the nine-legged steed. She walked up and down under the windows of the greenawn, and she stirred not head nor foot. The lady was looking out of the window. When she saw him riding, she knew him and she came down. She ran out and they caught hold of each other by the hands. There was great joy on her that she saw him. She smothered him with kisses, and drowned him with tears; she dried him with finest cloths and with silk.

Came the priest of the pattens and the clerk of the bells. The pair were married. When they were married there were three champions there. They asked him if he knew them. He said that he knew them; that it was they gave him the gifts. There came a beautiful girl then. She asked him if he knew her. He said he did not know.

“Well,” said she, “I was in the place of the nine-legged steed, and those are my three brothers, and I am sister to them. We were all under spells till your wife was married.”

I found the ford; they the stepping-stones. They were drowned, and I came away.

When folk-lore is narrated by peasants in their own dialect, it seems desirable, for various reasons, that the tales should be recorded in that dialect, and not in some form of speech differing from it more or less widely. This being conceded, the question arises, when one takes to recording Irish folk-lore, how the object is to be attained. It needs but a very small acquaintance with the ordinary Irish orthography to perceive that, if it is adhered to, the object cannot be even aimed at. The greatest defect in the English language is admitted to be its extraordinary spelling. But in this respect it is completely outdone by Irish Gaelic, which is troubled in an aggravated form with every evil that afflicts English. Different sounds are written in the same way. Identical sounds are written in different ways. Silent letters attain to a tropical forestine luxuriance, through which the tongue of the learner despairs of hewing a way. There are, moreover,cases in which there is no indication in writing of single sounds, and even syllables, which are actually pronounced; and there is at least one case of a word being written as if it began with a vowel, while it really begins with a consonant.

One of the chief reasons for this state of affairs is the attempt which has been made to represent an exceedingly numerous and varied series of sounds with a meagre alphabet of eighteen letters. The system of orthography developed, though highly ingenious, has proved entirely inadequate to its purpose. But if this be true of the so-called classical speech of the few educated persons, whose original pronunciation has been to some slight extent modified by the influence of books, far more decidedly must it be affirmed of the actual peasant dialects which, for two hundred years at least, have taken each of them its own way, uncontrolled by any central influence. Of these the mere sounds cannot be given at all on the basis of the common spelling. Here are two of the simplest examples. The Donegal pronunciation of the word “tá” cannot be written by any device known to Irish orthography; neither can the Kerry pronunciation of “glean.” The strange spectacle is sometimes witnessed of an attempt to give the actual sound of Irish words by means of a spelling based on English values,—of Chaos applying for help to Confusion.

In addition to the reasons which might be urged generally in favour of recording folk-lore in the dialect of the narrators, is one which is largely peculiar to Irish tales. I will indicate it in the briefest manner. Words are of frequent occurrence which are not to be found in the dictionaries. If one of these words contains the sound ofvorw, you cannot tell, if writing in the ordinary way, whether to usebormaspirated. If by mistake you choose the wrong letter, you may afterwards throw yourself or others entirely on a wrong scent. But if the actualvorwis written, you will not be responsible for misleading any one. It is further to be observed that these stories constitute the only body of matter having an intrinsic interest, which can be used as a vehicle for placing some considerable specimens of the spoken language before Continental and other students, who have little opportunity of gaining acquaintance with it directly.

It is true that the difficulties in the way of accurately writing the dialects are formidable. Not only, as already remarked, are the sounds of Irish exceptionally numerous and subtle in any one dialect that may be chosen, but the dialects are well-nigh innumerable. While certain broad differences are characteristic of Kerry, Connaught, and Donegal respectively, there are minor varieties in every district, shading off in every possiblecombination into those of the surrounding districts. The native of Ballymore does not speak as the inhabitant of Ballybeg, only two miles away; and the native of Ballybeg probably has several pronunciations, of which he will give you the benefit impartially. This last statement must appear almost incredible, but its truth is unquestionable. I have taxed the peasants with these variations, and they have admitted them, only observing “that’s how the word’s said there,”i.e., in that context.

The alphabet which now follows is the work of Mr. James Lecky, whose untimely death was a severe blow to the study of modern Irish. In addition to the list here given, Mr. Lecky had noted some additional distinctions, the precise value of which I do not understand. I have therefore not employed them in my own stories, and though I have included one story written down by himself, I have been obliged to omit them.

[18]Sound hard, as English d.[19]Donegal pronunciation.[20]k asp. = hj.[21]q asp. often = h.[22]Sound hard.

[18]Sound hard, as English d.

[19]Donegal pronunciation.

[20]k asp. = hj.

[21]q asp. often = h.

[22]Sound hard.

The most important features in the foregoing are,—(1) the use ofj, which when initial has the German value, to mark slenderness, when attached to another consonant; (2) the use ofcfor broadg, dictated partly by the necessity of economising the resources of the Roman alphabet, and by the consideration thatc, in most alphabets of uncertain value, and therefore sometimes entirely discarded by phoneticians, is thereby fixed and utilised; (3) the doubling of the vowels, a practice known in old Irish, to indicate length. The accents thus disappear, and, no dots to indicate aspiration being required, the diacritics, whose number is such a frequent source of error, are almost entirely got rid of, the only exception being ˘ the mark of obscurity, which may be usually omitted withoutharm, as it never appears except on an unstressed syllable. In the Connaught and Donegal dialects the stress is thrown forward. There are a few exceptions, which are the following: ănsjin, ănsjo, ănoxt, ămæsg, ălig (all), ămax, amwijh, estjæx, estih, ăraan, anisj. All these have the stress on the last syllable, and the final vowel is in every case not obscure.rr, written in a few cases, is doubtful.rrjcorresponding tolljandnnjdoes not, I think, occur on the coast of Connaught, and but rarely in Donegal. Thejis, however, really pronounced as a separate consonant along with the following vowel. Thus, “Tïcerr-je.”

The Connaught values of the letters, specially those of Renvyle, are the basis of the alphabet.

Dialect of Renvyle, co. Galway.

Vi aan fær tjïăxt aa hoxrïdj, acăs qasu tjïaxt lee tïu tjæmpăll ee, qasu doo ql)egăn dine. “S maih ĕ kært çom duurjtt sjee lesj heen, “ee sjin ă huurjtj ljom acăs ă xirj ăn aatj haawaaljtji.” Hoog sjee lesj ăn ql)egăn acăs lljæc sjee ’s ă tjæmpăll ee. Çluuăs sjee lesj erj ă vællăx ă walje, acăs qasu doo fær ăn ourdu din uăsăl. “Kee ră tuu?” duurjtj ă din’ uăsal. “Vï mee eg soxrïdj ăcăs qasu çom ql)egăn dinĕ er ă mællăx.” “Keerj dă rinnje tuu lesj?” duurjtj ă din’ uăsăl. “Huc mee ljom ăcăs d’aac mee ’s ĕ tjæmpăll ee.” “Njïr woor ditj?” duurjtj ă din’ uăsăl. “Kee ăn faa sjin?” duurjtj ă fær. “Bwïĕn ee mă xl)egăn-sĕ” duurjtj ă din’ uăsăl, “ăcăs daa nnjïĕntaa tædi æs bællăx lesj, ça sjuuraaltji veensjĕ suuăs læt.” “Acăs kee ăn xï ăr xaalj tuu dŏ xl(egăn” duurjtj ă fær. “Njïrj xaalj mee xar ă bih ee, ăx d’ aacă mee ins ăn aatj ă wuuerj tis’ ee, ça metts acăm keerd ă jïĕnhaa lesj.” “Krjedjim çăr ă dină maih ’uu” duurjtj ă fær ăcăs maa sjææ, b’æær ljom ăn aatj ă kïntjăxt hele naa ăn dŏ xooloodăr.” “Naa bïăx fwatjïs ort. Njï wanj-hă misje læt. Veeăx foon orăm nïs muu lljæs jïĕnu çwitj naa doxăr.” “Is maih ljom sjin” duurjtj ă fær. “Tjænŭitj ă waljĕ ljomsĕ çă waamidj ĕ nnjïnjeerj.” Hjuul sjïăd innjeenjdji ĕ waljĕ. “Eirji dă hï” duurjtj ă fær lee nă væn, ăcăs faa ăr nnjïneer ree duunnj. Dj’ eirji an væn, acăs fuurj sjï ăn djïneer ree doofj. Nuurj ă dj ihjidăr ĕ nnjïneer “tjænuetj” duurjtj ă fær “çă nnjimreemidj qla)efĕ qaarti.” Vï sjïĕd ăn tranhoonă sjin ’g imărjtj xaarti, acăs xodil sjee ăn ïhĕ sjin ins ĕ tjæx. Acăs erj madjin laarnă waarjăx, dj ihădăr ĕ mrikfwastă innjeenjdji. Nuurj ĕ vï çaa uurj qatji, “Tjænuitj ljomsĕ” duurjtjă din’ uăsăl lesj a vær. “Kee ăn çræhă taa acăd dïumw?” duurjtj ĕ fær. “Çă veki tu ăn aatj ă taa acăm ’s ă maljĕ.”

Dj eerji sjïĕd acăs hjuul sjïĕd innjeenjdji ça nnjæxă sjïăd că djï ăn tjæmpăll. “Toog ăn tombw)ă” duurjtj ă din’ uăsăl. D’aardă sjee ăn tombwă ăcăs fuuĕ sjïĕd isjtjax. “Tjeerji sjïs ăn sdoirje” duurjtj ă din’ uăsăl lesj ă vær. Fuuădăr sjïs innjeendji ça nnjæxi sjïĕd ça djï ăn dorăs, ăcăs hiscliu ee, ăcăs fuua sjïĕd isjtjæx ça djï ăn hjisjtjinăx. Vï berjtj sjæn-vra̧a̧ nă sïu xosj ne tjinu. “Eeirji” duurjtj ă din’ uăsăl lee bæn æqu acăs faa fwï rjeerj i nnjïneerj duunnj. “Dj’eerji sjï ăcăs huc sjï lehi fati bĕăcă. Wil acăd çuunnj ça jïneerj ăx ă kinaal sjin?” duurjtj ă din’ uăsăl: “Njïl” duurjtj ăn væn. “Mar wil qonnji ’uu heen ïĕd. Eeirji hise” duurjtj sjee lesj ă daarnă bæn, acăs faa fwï rjeerj i nnjïneerj duunnj.” Dj eeirji sjï ăcăs huc sji lehi min ăcăs qaanhïni lehi. “Nnjænăx wil ăcăd duunnj ăx ĕ kinaal sjin?” “Nïl” duurjtj sjï. “Măr bwil qonnji ee.” Fuue sjee suuăs ăn sdoirje ăcăs wuuel sjee ăn dorăs. Haanik ăn væn vraa ămax ege fwï nă qolhi sjïdă ăcăs ee ooraaljtji aa voon ă qosje ça djï molăx ĕ kïnnj. Dj ïră sjï keerd ă vï tæsdaal woi. Dj ïră sjee i veetitt sjï djïneerj aal çoo heen ăcăs çăn strænsjeere. Duurjtt sjï çă veetăx. Lljæc sjï djïneer ănuuĕs huqu vï veljuunjtj çă rï.

Acăs nuurj ă vï saa itji ăcăs oolti æqu, dj’ ïrhi ăn din’ uăsăl çănnj ær ĕ rou ’s ege kee ăn reesuun lee r eed sjï i lljehedj çă jïneer huurjtj doofj. “Nil is acăm” duurjtj ăn fær; ăcas maa sjee dă hel ee insjï çămw ee. “Nuurj ă vï mee bĕoo, vï mee poosti tjrï huurje, ăcăs ăn hjeeăd væn vï ăcam, nïrj huc sjï rjïu çăn woxt ăx fati bĕăcă, acăs qahă sjï hïăxt suuăs hï heen orhu çă laa ’n vjrjehunisj. An daarnă bæn, nuurj ă dj ïrăx ă dine boxt djeerjke orhi, nïr huc sjï rjïu doofj ăx min ăcas qaanhïni, acăs nï veei sjï nïs fæær eki heen naa din e bihj hele ïres orhi ee erjïsjtj, çă laa ’n vjrjehunisj. An tjrïwă bæn lee r ïr mee ’rhi ăn djïneerj aalj fwï rjeerj, dj eeădd sjï sjin xălje hjinaal aa uus huurjtj duunnj.” “Kee ăn faa lee r eedd sjï sjin huurjtj duunnj ăcăs naar eeăd an verjtj el’ ee jïenu?” duurjtj ă faer. “Măr nnjïr spaaraal sjï rudă bihj daa mĕăx eki rjïu er ă dine boxt, ăcăs beei ă kinaal sjin eki çă djï laa ’n vjrjehunisj. Tjænuitj ljom să” duurjtj ă din’ uăsăl lesj ă vær çă veki tuu m’ aatju.

Vï tjïfwi acăs staabli ăcăs qoilltji tjimpăl ă hï, ăcăs lesj ă vïrinnjĕ ă jïĕnu̧ vï sjee er in aatj bă djesjĕ henik mee lee mă çaa huul erjïu. “Tjænuitj ljom sjtjæx insje” duurjtj ă din’ uăsăl lesj ă vær. Njï ră mee wad esjtjihj nuurj ă haanik pïbwirje ăcăs dj insje sjee er sjinnim hjool: njï ră sjee wad i sjinnim nuuirj i lljïĕnu̧ sjtjax ă tjax lee firj ăcăs lee mra̧a̧. Daati sjïĕd erhu do̧u̧sa. Nuurj ă vï tamwăl çăn ïhje qatji huuru ljom çel ă xolu. Di eerji mee acăs fuue mee ă xolu ăcăs nuuirj a çuusji mee erj madjin nï ră ænhe erj in aatj er ă tjæx naa

[The MS. ends here, but there are evidently only two or three words missing.]

Dialect of Achill Island, co. Mayo.

Xuui ă Cobaan Sïăr acăs ă maq sjerj in ă doun sjerj ec Balăr Beemănn cŏ djaanu quuirtj. “Gerji ăn boohăr, ă vik,” ers ăn t-æherj.

Rjih ăn maq ămax rive ăn boohăr, acăs fillj ăn t-æher ă waljĕ ăn laa sjin. An dæră laa xuui sjïăd erj sjuul, acăs duuertj a t-æher lesj a waq a boohăr ă jïeru. Rjih sjee ămax rive an t-æher ăn dæra laa acăs fillj ăn t-æher ă walje. “Kee sjkïăl çiv ă veeh pillju măr sjin?” ers ă bæn Cobaain ooig. “Iărĕnn m’æher orram ăn boohăr iăru: rjih mee ămax an boohăr rive acăs pillen sjee.” “Tesji tuu maarăx erj sjgeeăl næx cuuăli sjee erjïu, acăs misje mani çit-sje næx pilli sjee.” Xuui sjeeăd erj sjuul ăn tjrïwe laa, acăs hesji ăn Cobaan ooc sjgeeăl næx cooăli ăn t-æher erjïu acăs njïr fill sjee nis mo̧o̧, co djæxi sjïăad in ă doun herj.

“Nisj,” ers ăn væn lee Cobaan ooc, “nææ bï in ăn aatj erjïu næx mee nă wra̧a̧ co moih çitj.”

Rjinn sjeeăd ănsjin ăn quuritj co Walăr Beemăn; acăs njï ră duul egĕ, ă ligin erj æsj, fwatjïs cŏ njaanitt sjeeăd quuirtj cănj ær elĕ qoo moih lesj ă quuirtj ă vï egĕ feen.

“Tæærnnjïv woofĕ nă stæfŏlj;” acăs vï duul ă xirj ă maasj ă maar ă bildaalĕ. Vï qaljïn ă Walăr Beemănn ă col hæaert erj madjin fwï ’n vildal.

“A Cobaain ooig,” er sjisje, “xuui erj dŏ xrinaxt: sjïlĭm curfusă sjææxt qloxĕ xahu ănuăs naa ææn kinn ăwaain ă xirj co djï huu.” “Is fïr çitj” ers ă Cobaan ooc. Hesji sjïăd ă ligin ănuăs nă hibrje. Nuuirj ă xuuali Balăr Beemănn cŏ ra sjïăd ă xahu ănuăs nă hibrje, d’oordi sjee ăn stæful erjïstj, cur ïsjle sjïăd nă tælŭv. “Nisj;” ers ăn sjæn Cobaan sïăr “tææ qam in dŏ xidj ibrje; acăs ă meeu tjrï wall ornesj taa mo jeei ’sa walje acăm, ă ducenn sjïăd qor ăn oiĕ ăn xirj, qam ăn oiĕ ăn xam, acăs bæærtj ăn oiĕ nă cancĕdje, acăs njïr eeăn ær lee nă waail ææx dŏ waq feen, jïăroonj ăn obirj acăs njï veeŭv ææn obirj ins a doun ă qompeeraalje leehe. Jofi tuu,” er sjesjăn, “bæn eeăn la̧a̧v ăwaain ins ă tjæx, acăs paasjdje lljæh-uuil; acăs qruuăx æruur ins ă dorăs.”

Xirj ăn t-æherj lesj llonc ănsjin, acăs xirj sjee næll co h-Eerje ee. Vï sjee erj sjuul erjïu cŏ wuuirj sjee ămax ă tjæx: acăs hænik sjee stjæx in ă tï.

Dj ïări sjee erj, a veeu ăn tjæx Cobaain ooig? Duuertj ăn væn co mwï ee. “Duuertt sjee ljom cŏ rŏ bæn erj lljæh-la̧a̧v, acăs paasjdje lljæh-uuil ins ă tjæx, acăs qruuăx æruur ins ă dorăs.” “Næx vekin tuu,” er sisjăn, “næx wil acăm æx lljæh-la̧a̧v, acăs vekin tuu ăn proosjdje sjŏ erj la̧a̧v ă paasjdje?—nïl is acăm kee ăn moomeedj xirji sjee ăn proosjdje in ă huul acăs a mani sjee ăn tuul ĕs feen? acăs vekin tuu ăn xruuăx æruur amwihj ins ă dorăs?”

Dj ïăr sjee ansjin nă tjrï wall. “Kee nă tjrï wall ïad?” er sjisjăn. “Taa qor ăn oiĕ ăn xirj, qam in oiĕ ăn xæm, acăs bæærtj ăn oiĕ nă cancĕdje.” Hig sjï ansjin nax ducett sjeeăd erj æsj ă xïe, mar djicett sjï nă foqle-sjŏ.

“Taa nă tjrï wall ins ă xooră sjin hïs, ă ducenn sjïad, qor ăn oiĕ in xirj, qam in oiĕ ăn xam, acăs bæærtj in oiĕ nă cancedje.” Xuuă sjï sjïs acăs doscel sjï ăn xooră, acăs duuertt sjï lesj feen ă qromu sjïs co tuunj ă xooră,—cŏ rŏ sji feen ĕnnjïsjăl. Xrom sjee sjïs, acăs anuuirj fuuirj sjï qrom ee, xa sjï stjæx ins ă xoor’ ee, acăs çridj sjï ăn xooră erj, acăs duuertt sjï lesj co wanitt sjee ansjin co djicu Cobaan ooc acăs sjæn Cobaan ă walje, acăs luuăx ă sïhirj. Xor sjï qontăs ec Balăr Beemăn co ro waq aconfinement, eki co dj icu Cobaan ooc acăs sjæn Cobaan a walje. Xor sjee lljoofwe llonc acăs xirj sjee a walj iăd feen acăs ă paaiĕ; acăs lig sjisje maq Walăr Beemann erj æsj egesăn. Nuuirj ă vï sjïăd ec imæxt ă walje,dj ïări Balăr Beemăn cŏ Cobaan, kee ăn gouĕ jofitt sjee ă xirju ïărĕnaxă lee hï ăn xuuirtj. “Nïl eeăn gou’ in Eerinn is fæær nææ Cavidjïn Coo.” Nuuirj ă hænik sjæn Cobaan ă walje duuĕrtt sjee lee Cavidjïn Coo căn eeăn paai erj bih ă claqu wuui, erj ïărenaxă ă jaanu con quuirtj, ææx ă çlas:—çaa curti fuuiĕ fïhje barillje co lïnitt sjï lee bannjĕ nă fïhje barillje.

Sjkrïu ansjin Balăr Beemăn co djï an Cavidjïn Coo, co dooritt sjee çoo ăn çlas, ææx ă ïĕrănaxa ă jaanu con quuirtj: ææx njï huc sjee ăn wuuĕrăx çoo nuuirj ă xirj sjee egĕ ăn çlăs; acăs vïs egĕ co nnjimoott sjï wuuă, nuuirj næx duc sjee çoo ăn wuuĕrăx.

Sjee ăn marăcu jaanitt Cavidjïn Coo ănsjin lee hole Cæsjkiăx ă hicu ege;—æn çlas ærje acăs ă hoort egĕ slaan ă walje ă trænoona; jaanitt sjee qlæve cŏ holĕ cæsjkiăx ă dj ærju ï. Dj ïsitt sjï feeŭr Qruuăxaan Qonăxtă ăn laa, acăs d’ oolitt sjï djox ă Lax Eeăxirj ă Cuuicălu ă trænoona.

Hænig Kïăn waq Qaantje egĕ, cŏ waadd sjee qlave djaanti. Duuert sjee lesj cŏ nnjaanu, ææx cur ă bee ă warăcu ă vee egĕ, co coihitt sjee ăn çlas ærje ăn laa sjin. “Næ măr rŏ sjï læt ă walje acăm trænoona, qoihi tuu do hjinn ă ligin sjïs erj anj ïnuur co mani mee an kinn jïĕt, lee do xlave feen.”

Dj imi Kïan waq Qaantje acăs ruc sjee grjim robel orhi. Nuuirj ă hænik sjee ă walje trænoonă, “Sjo ï, mwihj, ă çlas” er sjesjăn lee Cavidjïn Cou. Vï Cæsjkiăx esti ins ă hjæærtă, Ridjirje ăn çaairje. Rjih sjee ămax, acăs duuĕrtt sjee lee Kïan waq Qaantje, “tææ ’n cou ă xirj ăn ouĕrtj in dŏ xlave, acăs măr rŏ grjim acăd erj njï bee buui imăru acăd.” Nuuirj ă xuui Kïan waq Qaantje estjæx njï q)ivne sjee ăn çlas ă xirj estjæx. Dj ïări Cavidjïn Cou çe “Kee wil ăn çlas?” “Sjo ï amwihj ec an doras ï.” “Xirj estjæx ï” er sjesjăn. Nuuirj ă xuui sjee amax, vï sjï imi. “Lig sjïs do hjinn erj ănj ïnuur, co mani mee ăn konn dïĕt.” “Tææ mee ïări onoorj hjrï laa ort lee col ă hïări.” “Veerhi mee sjin ditj” er sjesjan.

Dj imi sjee lesj ansjin acas vï sjee lljænuintj ă lorăc co dænik sjee co djï ăn ærige. Vï sjee sjïr acăs enjïăr erj ă traai, dææ tærentj ă cruuĕgĕ daa xlæcenn lee buuĕrhe enjeei nă clasjĕ. Vï fær amwihj erj ăn ærige in ă xorăx. Dj omirj sjee estjæx co djï ee, acas vï ăn fær sjin Mananaan bwï maq ă Ljirj. Dj ïări sjee çe “Kee ă taa ort ennju?” Dj ini sjee çoo. “Keeărd ă veerhaa con tjie d’ aaqu huu ins ăn aatj ă wil ăn çlas?” “Nïldædi acăm lee toortj çoo.” “Njïr iări mee ort ææx lljæh ă ncruui tuu co djige tuu erj æsj.” “Veerhi mee sjin ditj” ers ă Kïăn waq Qaantje. “Bï ’s estjih ins ă xorăx.” Lee locen do huul, d’ aac sjee ee herj ă riaxtă nă fuuăriaxt; njir brjïhu eeăn grjim erjïu erj ăn ilaan-sjŏ, ææx djih sjïăd ă hole hoort bï fuuăr. Rjinn Kïăn waq Qaantje tjini, acăs hesji sjæ brjïh ăn vï. Nuuirj ă xuăli Balăr Beemănn co rŏ lehidj onn, hooc sjee estjæx na qookerje, acăs nă sjgeeăli, acăs ănj ær tjini ee.Well; vï ææn ïen ăwaain ec Balăr Beemann acăs rjinnju taricerææxt cur bee ăn maq eki ă warahu ăn t-æherj woor. Xoi sjee ănsjin in ăconfinementï, fwatjïs co ræhi anj ær dææ xooirj, acăs ee feen ă veeuv lee vïa eki; acăs sjee ăncompanioneki,dummymra̧a̧. D’aac Mananaan buui co Kïan waq Qaantje—clas erj bih ă luqett sjee la̧a̧u erj fwosceltj acăs dridj nă jeei. Vï sjee c’ ouărq erj Balăr Beemann ă çol co djï ăn tjæx-sjo donnj ïĕn lee bïa eki; acăs xuuă ’sjee feen nă jeei co djï ăn tjæx; acăs loc sjæ la̧a̧u erj ăn clas, acăs doscĕl ăn dorăs; njï wuuirj sjee æx ăn vertj wan onn. Rjinn sjee tjinni çoofwe. Vï sjee tjææxt onn erjïu, cur qasu dinĕ qlanne orhi. Vï sjee col ec imææxt ansjin nuuirj ă rucu ă paasjdje. Xuuă sjee cŏ djï ăn rjï acăs duuĕrtt sjee lesj cŏ coihitt sjee imæxt. “Tige n imæhă?” er sjesjăn. “Taa, djeerji mælhoo çam oo hænik mee in ăn ilaan-sjo. Qoihi mee imæxt.” “Kee an mælhu ee?” er sjesjan. “Qasu dine xlanne orrăm.”

Vï bertj waq çoo erj ăn ilaan elĕ fjoolăm drïaxta. Hænik sjïăd ă waljĕ erj xuuirtj ec ăn æherj. “Æherj” ers ă fær aqu, “xirji dŏ sjgeeăli, dŏ qookerjĕ acăs d’ ær tjinu dŏ haai feric ort.” Vï Kïăn waq Qaantje c eesjtjæxt çaa rææitj, xuuă sjee cŏ djï ăn ïĕn Walăr Beemann, acăs dj’ ini sjee ăn sjgeeăl dih ă d’inisj ă drïhaar. “Well!” er sjisje, “taa sjee ăn am acăd ă veeh c’imææxt anisj. Sjin ï, qruuăxt erj ă walle, buuărax ăn clasje, acăs beei ăn çlas xoo luuă læt; acăs toor læt ăn paasjdje.” Dj imi sjee acăs ănuuirj ă hænik sjee co djï ănspotă xirj Mananaan ămax ee vï Mananaan onn erj ăspot. “Bï estih ins a xoræx” ers ă Mananaan; “acăs djaan djefirj, nææ baaihi Balăr Beemann sjinn maa hig lesj ee; ææx is muu ăn drïăxtă taa acamsă naa ege,” ers ă Mananaan Bwï waq ă Ljirj. Lljeem sjee estjæx ins ă xorăx acăs lljeem ăn çlas estjæx xoo lluuă lesj. Lljæn Balăr Beemann ïăd, acăs hooc sjee ăn ærige in ă stirm,rive acăs nă jeei: njï rjinn Mananaan ææx ă la̧a̧u ă hïnu amax acăs rjinn sjee ăn ærige kuun. Lljæs Balăr ăn ærige rive, duul lee co nuuihitt sjee ïăd; ææx xoih Mananaan amax qlox acăs xirj sjee es ăn ærige.

“Nisj, ă Hhjïan waq Qaantje, tææ tuu slaan, saawalti ins ă walje; acăs keeărd ă verhis tuu ljom erj ă hon?”

“Njïl dædi acăm lee toortj ditj ææx ă paasjdje acăs nji rææhimwidj ă djaanu çaa llje çe, ææx verhim çitj ĕlig ee.”

“Tææ mee bwïăx ditj: sjin ee ăn rud ă vï mee ïări. Njï veei eeăn cæsjkiăx ins ă doun qoo maih lesj,” ers ă Mananaan.

Hooc sjee suuăs lee klæs luu acăs cæsjqu ee. Sjee ăn tænim ă waasjtje Mananaan erj, ă Doll Daana. Vï sjee acăs Mananaan laa amwihj erj ăn ærige, acăs hænik sjïădfleetWalăr Beemănn ă sjoolu.

Xirj Doll Daană faainnje, erj a huul, acăs hænik sjee ăn t-æher moor erj ădeck, a spasjdooræxt. Njï rou ’s ege cur bee ee ăn t-æher moor. Losjk sjee lesjdartes ă fooqă acăs warĕ sjee ee. Vï ăn tærăcerææxtfulfil-aaltji ănsjin.

Dialect of Glencolumkille, co. Donegal.

Vi rjï ănsjin acăs njï roo egĕ æx ăn maq ăwaain. Vï sjee ’mwih ă sjelig. Vï sjee col hæært nă relig. Vï kærher ins ă relig acăs qorp aqu. Vï feeăx erj ă xorp. Xuui maq rjï estjæx. Dj’ esă sjee cŏdjee vï orhu. Ers ă fær “Tææ feeăxă oinnjĕ erj ănj ’ær ă tææ maru. Nïl mee sææsta qorp ă xor, cŏ nnjææli çææ waq tææ ănsjŏ cŏ nnjïŏli sjeeăd nă feeăxă.” “Nil sjinn ææbŭlt ă nnjïŏl” ers ă fær aqu. “Tææ quuig font oimsă” ers ă maq ă rjï. “Veerhi mee çïv ee erj ă qorp ă xor.” Huc sjee çooif na quuig font. Qwirju ăn qorp. Dj ’imi maq ă rjï nă helig. Xuuă sjee ă walje trænoonă. Madjin laar nă waarăx vï sjnææxt ann. Xuuă sjee ămax ă helig erj ă tjrææxtă. Warĕ sjee prjeeăxaan duh. Hæs sjee nă hjonn acăs d’ ouĕr sjee erj. Duur sjee n intjin heen nææx boositt sjee væn ă xïĕ æx ă væn ă meeu ă kinn qoo duh lee kletj anj eein, noo qrækonn qoo gæl lesj ă tjrææxtă, gruuie qoo djærăc lesj ăn il. Hæne sjee ă walje. Laarnă waarăx nuuirj ă dj eerji sjee njï sjee heen acăs dj imisjee lesj cŏ waadd sjee ăn væn-sjo. Nuuirj ă vï sjee sjuul lesj tæmăl, qæsu buuăxoll ruuă doo. Væni ă buuăxŏll doo. Dj esă sjee qææd ă vï sjee col. Dj inisj maq ă rjï doo çŏ ră sjee col cŏ vekitt sjee ăn ouĕrq ăwaain erj ă væn sjin. “’S fæær misj’ æsdoo” ers a buuăxol ruuă: “Codjee ăn tuu-ărăsdăl vees tuu ïări?” “Lljæh ă sïræhæmwidj konn laa acăs blïĕn.” Hjuul ă vertj lljoofwĕ cŏ roo ’n træænoon’ ann. Ers ăn fær ruuă “tææ fær mwintjĕræx duusă nă xooni ’s ă xillj-sjŏ hïs. Fan his’ ănsjŏ cŏ dj ige misje nïs.” Xuui ăn fær ruuă sjïs cŏ tjæx ăn æhi. Vï ăn faahăx nă hïe erj qahirj ec ăn tjini. “Onkĕl jïlisj” ers ăn fær ruuă “mar sjoo tææ tuu?” “Sjææ çine wintjerje jïlisj; cŏdjee tææ tjææxt orrăm?”

Ers ăn fær ruuă “Rjï ăn Doon hirj woor-wantjrææt tjææxt nuuăs ănsjin lee dŏ waruĕ. Coo ă walăx ă hileshuu.” (?) “Tææ tjææx ïĕrennj oim mwïh ănsjŏ. Clasææl mee stjæx ann.” Clasææl sjee ăn fær estjæx. Xuuă sjee insjerj ă woisjter. Huc sjee ă woisjter huuas cŏ tjæx ăn æhi. Rinn sjee roi ă supæær. Xuuă sjeeăd ă llïĕ.

Sjee ăn jeemnæx vï ec ăn æhăx erj madjin “Woscel ïăd.” Xuui ă fær ruuă insjerj. Dj esă sjee cŏdjee vï erj? “Tææ mee xooirj ă veeh reei lesj ăn oqrăs. Lig ămax es sjo mee klisju.” (?) “Njï liki mee ’max huu” ers ă fær ruuă co nj insji tuu duh qou’l ă qlooxă dorăxă.” “Sjin rud næx n’ insji mee don ’ine cŏ brææ.” “Well!maa’s fæær læt căn insje noo veeh ănsjin co waa tuu baas.”

“Ol ă ră mee nïs fwidj ann, tææ sjee qroxt in ă lljeehidd-sjŏroom.”

“Tææ ’s oimsă” ers ă fær ruuă, “qou’l sjee; bï hise ănsjin ætts tol læt.” Nuuirj ă xooli ăn fahax næx wïtt sjee ămax, huc sjee lljeem ’max edjirj çææ ronqă don tjæx ïărenj. Rinnju çææ lljeh doo. Hitj lljæh ămwih acăs lljæh estih. Xuui ă fær ruuă cŏ tjæx ăn æhi. Rinn sjee reei ă mrikwast. Huc sjee lljoofwe nnjært ooirj acăs ærigidj;—çææ jæræn acas çææ jïŏlledj. Dj imi sjeeăd lljoofwe co ro ’n trænoon’ ann, co d’æni sjeeăd estjæx ă collj elĕ.

[In this wood is another giant, from whom in the same fashion he obtains the “broocă sjlouănă”; and then they go on to another wood, in which is another giant, from whom they obtain the “qelev solaste.”]

“Nisj” ers an fær ruuă, lee nă woisjter “bïmwidj ă tjæxt ă welje: tææ ăr sææih oinnj. Nææ coo ăn tasi nïs fwidje. Væn ă wil tuu tærentj orhi—nïl æn xrænn ins ă xollj næx wil konn dine qroxt erj, æx æn qrænn ăwaain tææ fwirjææxt lee dŏ hjonn-să. Pilamwidj ă walje” ers ă fær ruuă. “Njï rææhe mee ă walje xïĕ” ers ă maq ă rjï “co veki mee ’n ouĕrq ăwaain erj ă væn sjin.”

Xo sjeeăd ăn tasi co djæhi sjæd (co) tjæx ă rjï. Rinn ăn rjï fwaruætje woor rive. Claq sjeeăd ăn ïneerj. Xa sjeeăd ăn ïh ec ool acăs leesport. Nuuirj ă vï sjïăd nă sïĕ ec nă supæær hæne sjisj ănuuăs ă tjæx baar. Vï ăn konn qoo duh lee etje ănj eein, qrækon qoo gæl lesj ă tjrææxtă acăs cruuïe qoo djærăc lesj ăn il. Hæne sjï æd lljoofwe ’n ææitj ă ră sjeeăd ec ïhĕ. Xa sjï qïăr insjerj. Duur sjï lesj mar meeu qïărsăn egĕ lee toortj dih maarăx co mwinett sjï ăn konn dih. Ruc sjee erj ă xïăr. Xor sjee sjïs in ă fooq’i. Nuuirj ă vï sjeeăd ă col ă llïĕ, ers ăn fær ruuă lesj “ouărq ă wil ă xïăr oiăd.” Xor sjee veeur in ă fooqă.

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 ăwack-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 ăstuffsjin. 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 madjinring-ææl ănbell. 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 leesweepawaain. 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 ănsweepawaain, njïr aac sjï grimdelferj 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 ăsupæær reei, hæne sjisj’ anuuăs leeflight. “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 ecladyă 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 leeflight. 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 sjïsweepawaain; 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.

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