Irish Folk Tales (55 page)

The day on the morrow Paudyeen went to the gentleman, gave him the money, and got possession of the house and land. And the gentleman left him the furniture and everything that was in the house, in with the bargain.

Paudyeen remained in the house that night, and when darkness came he went down to the cellar, and he saw a little man with his two legs spread on a barrel.

“God save you, honest man,” says he to Paudyeen.

“The same to you,” says Paudyeen.

“Don’t be afraid of me at all,” says the little man. I’ll be a friend to you, if you are able to keep a secret.”

“I am able, indeed; I kept your mother’s secret, and I’ll keep yours as well.”

“Maybe you’re thirsty?” says the little man.

“I’m not free from it,” said Paudyeen.

The little man put a hand in his bosom and drew out a gold goblet. He gave it to Paudyeen, and said: “Draw wine out of that barrel under me.”

Paudyeen drew the full up of the goblet, and handed it to the little man. “Drink yourself first,” says he. Paudyeen drank, drew another goblet, and handed it to the little man, and he drank it.

“Fill up and drink again,” said the little man. “I have a mind to be merry tonight.”

The pair of them sat there drinking until they were half drunk. Then the little man gave a leap down to the floor, and said to Paudyeen:

“Don’t you like music?”

“I do, surely,” says Paudyeen, “and I’m a good dancer, too.”

“Lift up the big flag over there in the corner, and you’ll get my pipes under it.”

Paudyeen lifted the flag, got the pipes, and gave them to the little man. He squeezed the pipes on him, and began playing melodious music. Paudyeen began dancing till he was tired. Then they had another drink, and the little man said:

“Do as my mother told you, and I’ll show you great riches. You can bring your wife in here, but don’t tell her that I’m here, and she won’t see me. Any time at all that ale or wine are wanting, come here and draw. Farewell now. Go to sleep, and come again to me tomorrow night.”

Paudyeen went to bed, and it wasn’t long till he fell asleep.

On the morning of the day on the morrow, Paudyeen went home, and
brought his wife and children to the big house, and they were comfortable. That night Paudyeen went down to the cellar; the little man welcomed him and asked him did he wish to dance.

“Not till I get a drink,” said Paudyeen.

“Drink your ’nough,” said the little man. “That barrel will never be empty as long as you live.”

Paudyeen drank the full of the goblet, and gave a drink to the little man. Then the little man said to him:

“I am going to Doon-na-shee tonight, to play music for the Good People, and if you come with me you’ll see fine fun. I’ll give you a horse that you never saw the like of him before.”

“I’ll go with you, and welcome,” said Paudyeen. “But what excuse will I make to my wife?”

“I’ll bring you away from her side without her knowing it, when you are both asleep together, and I’ll bring you back to her the same way,” said the little man.

“I’m obedient,” says Paudyeen. “We’ll have another drink before I leave you.”

He drank drink after drink, till he was half drunk, and he went to bed with his wife.

When he awoke he found himself riding on a besom near Doon-na-shee, and the little man riding on another besom by his side. When they came as far as the green hill of the Doon, the little man said a couple of words that Paudyeen did not understand. The green hill opened, and the pair went into a fine chamber.

Paudyeen never saw before a gathering like that which was in the Doon. The whole place was full up of little people, men and women, young and old. They all welcomed little Donal—that was the name of the piper—and Paudyeen O’Kelly. The king and queen of the fairies came up to them, and said:

“We are all going on a visit tonight to Cnoc Matha, to the high king and queen of our people.”

They all rose up then and went out. There were horses ready for each one of them and the
coash-t’ya bower
for the king and the queen. The king and queen got into the coach, each man leaped on his own horse, and be certain that Paudyeen was not behind. The piper went out before them and began playing them music, and then off and away with them. It was not long till they came to Cnoc Matha. The hill opened and the king of the fairy host passed in.

Finvara and Nuala were there, the arch-king and queen of the fairy host of Connacht, and thousands of little persons. Finvara came up and said:

“We are going to play a hurling match tonight against the fairy host
of Munster, and unless we beat them our face is gone forever. The match is to be fought out on Moytura, under Slieve Belgadaun.

The Connacht host cried out: “We are all ready, and we have no doubt but we’ll beat them.”

“Out with ye all,” cried the high king. “The men of the Hill of Nephin will be on the ground before us.”

They all went out, and little Donal and twelve pipers more before them, playing melodious music. When they came to Moytura, the fairy host of Munster and the fairy men of the Hill of Nephin were there before them. Now, it is necessary for the fairy host to have two live men beside them when they are fighting or at a hurling match, and that was the reason that little Donal took Paddy O’Kelly with him. There was a man they called the “Yellow Stongirya,” with the fairy host of Munster, from Ennis, in the County Clare.

It was not long till the two hosts took sides; the ball was thrown up between them, and the fun began in earnest. They were hurling away, and the pipers playing music, until Paudyeen O’Kelly saw the host of Munster getting the strong hand, and he began helping the fairy host of Connacht. The Stongirya came up and he made at Paudyeen O’Kelly, but Paudyeen turned him head over heels. From hurling the two hosts began at fighting, but it was not long until the host of Connacht beat the other host. Then the host of Munster made flying beetles of themselves, and they began eating every green thing that they came up to. They were destroying the country before them until they came as far as Cong. Then there rose up thousands of doves out of the hole, and they swallowed down the beetles. That hole has no other name until this day but Pull-na-gullam, the Doves’ Hole.

When the fairy host of Connacht won their battle, they came back to Cnoc Matha joyous enough, and the king Finvara gave Paudyeen O’Kelly a purse of gold, and the little piper brought him home, and put him into bed beside his wife, and left him sleeping there.

A month went by after that without anything worth mentioning, until one night Paudyeen went down to the cellar, and the little man said to him: “My mother is dead; burn the house over her.”

“It is true for you,” said Paudyeen. “She told me that she hadn’t but a month to be on the world, and the month was up yesterday.”

On the morning of the next day Paudyeen went to the hut and he found the hag dead. He put a coal under the hut and burned it. He came home and told the little man that the hut was burnt. The little man gave him a purse and said to him: “This purse will never be empty as long as you are alive. Now, you will never see me more; but have a loving remembrance of the weasel. She was the beginning and the prime cause of your riches.” Then he went away and Paudyeen never saw him again.

Paudyeen O’Kelly and his wife lived for years after this in the large house, and when he died he left great wealth behind him, and a large family to spend it.

There now is the story for you, from the first word to the last, as I heard it from my grandmother.

O
NE QUEER EXPERIENCE

A good many believe that the fairies will spirit away children. They will carry off a healthy child and leave instead a weazened little dwarf. One day they played that trick on a tailor, and he kept the dwarf several years and it didn’t grow any, and was just the same shriveled little thing it was in the beginning. Finally, the tailor made up his mind what the matter was.

So he heated his goose red-hot and held it over the dwarf, and said, “Now, get out of here—I know you!”

But the dwarf never let on it noticed him; and the tailor lowered the goose little by little till it almost touched the dwarf’s face. Then the dwarf spoke and said, “Well, I’ll leave, but first you go to the door and look round the corner.”

The man knew if he did that the dwarf would get the best of him, and he said he would not. Then the dwarf saw ’twas no use, and it sprang out of the cradle and went roaring and cackling up the chimney, and a good child lay there in its place.

I had one queer experience myself. It was the time of the Fenian troubles. I was sitting up late—I suppose it must have been after midnight—but I hadn’t taken anything, and was as sober as I am this minute.

Well, it got to be very late, as I said, and by and by I heard strange noises in the hall. It was like men tramping past, and they kept going and going, hundreds of them, and they were dragging dead bodies and all that. I could hear their breathing, and I could hear their clothing rub along against the walls. Then the ceiling and the sides of the room I was in began to wave. I took a candle and went out in the hall, and there was nothing there, doors all fastened, everything all right.

Now, what do you make out of that? I never have been able to account for it myself.

M
ANY A ONE SAW WHAT WE SAW

Aye, God sakes, the things that do be happening! It takes a wise man to understand what he sees and it takes a fool to doubt his own eyes.

Brian Leavy used to be working for me here and he only a lad. One night after his supper he made his bid to go home. But, troth, he did not get far! He only reached the bawn gate when back he came a-running.

“What ails ye, man?” says I. “You are as pale as a ghost!”

“And it is them I am after seeing,” says he, sitting down and trembling on the chair there. Then he told me that he had seen men in the sky and them fighting. I saw he was near losing his life with the fright. I was going to keep him for the night, but it came to my mind that his mother was a widow and alone, so would be wanting him home.