_The Three Leprechauns._

Mrs. L. having heard that Molly Toole, an old woman who held a few acres of land from Mr. L., had seen Leprechauns, resolved to visit her, and learn the truth from her own lips. Accordingly, one Sunday, after church, she made her appearance at Molly's residence, which was--no very common thing--extremely neat and comfortable. As she entered, every thing looked gay and cheerful. The sun shone bright in through the door on the earthen floor. Molly was seated at the far side of the fire in her arm-chair; her daughter Mary, the prettiest girl on the lands, was looking to the dinner that was boiling; and her son Mickey, a young man of about two-and-twenty, was standing lolling with his back against the dresser.

The arrival of the mistress disturbed the stillness that had hitherto prevailed. Mary, who was a great favourite, hastened to the door to meet her, and shake hands with her. Molly herself had nearly got to the middle of the floor when the mistress met her, and Mickey modestly staid where he was till he should catch her attention. "O then, musha! but isn't it a glad sight for my ould eyes to see your own silf undher my roof? Mary, what ails you, girl? and why don't you go into the room and fetch out a good chair for the misthress to sit down upon and rest herself?" "'Deed faith, mother, I'm so glad I don't know what I'm doin'.

Sure you know I didn't see the misthress since she cum down afore."

Mickey now caught Mrs. L.'s eye, and she asked him how he did. "By Gorra, bravely, ma'am, thank you," said he, giving himself a wriggle, while his two hands and the small of his back rested on the edge of the dresser.

"Now, Mary, stir yourself, alanna," said the old woman, "and get out the bread and butther. Sure you know the misthress can't but be hungry afther her walk."--"O, never mind it, Molly; it's too much trouble."--"Throuble, indeed! it's as nice butther, ma'am, as iver you put a tooth in; and it was Mary herself that med it."--"O, then I must taste it."

A nice half griddle of whole-meal bread and a print of fresh butter were now produced, and Molly helped the mistress with her own hands.

As she was eating, Mary kept looking in her face, and at last said, "Ah then, mother, doesn't the misthress luk mighty well? Upon my faikins, ma'am, I never seen you luking half so handsome."--"Well! and why wouldn't she luk well? And niver will she luk betther nor be betther nor I wish her."--"Well, Molly, I think I may return the compliment, for Mary is prettier than ever; and as for yourself, I really believe it's young again you're growing."--"Why, God be thanked, ma'am, I'm stout and hearty; and though I say it mysilf, there's not an ould woman in the county can stir about betther nor me, and I'm up ivery mornin' at the peep of day, and rout them all up out of their beds. Don't I?" said she, looking at Mary.--"Faith, and sure you do, mother," replied Mickey; "and before the peep of day, too; for you have no marcy in you at all at all."--"Ah, in my young days,"

continued the old woman, "people woren't slugabeds; out airly, home late--that was the way wid thim."--"And usedn't people to see Leprechauns in thim days, mother?" said Mickey, laughing.--"Hould your tongue, you saucy cub, you," cried Molly; "what do you know about thim?"--"Leprechauns?" said Mrs. L., gladly catching at the opportunity; "did people really, Molly, see Leprechauns in your young days?"--"Yes, indeed, ma'am; some people say they did," replied Molly, very composedly.--"O com' now, mother," cried Mickey, "don't think to be goin' it upon us that away; you know you seen thim one time yoursilf, and you hadn't the gumption in you to cotch thim, and git their crocks of gould from thim."--"Now, Molly, is that really true that you saw the Leprechauns?"--"'Deed, and did I, ma'am; but this boy's always laughin' at me about thim, and that makes me rather shy in talkin' o' thim."--"Well, Molly, _I_ won't laugh at you; so, come, tell me how you saw them."

"Well, ma'am, you see it was whin I was jist about the age of Mary, there. I was comin' home late one Monday evenin' from the market; for my aunt Kitty, God be marciful to her! would keep me to take a cup of tay. It was in the summer time, you see, ma'am, much about the middle of June, an' it was through the fields I come. Well, ma'am, as I was sayin', it was late in the evenin', that is, the sun was near goin'

down, an' the light was straight in my eyes, an' I come along through the bog-meadow; for it was shortly afther I was married to him that's gone, an' we wor livin' in this very house you're in now; an' thin whin I come to the castle-field--the pathway you know, ma'am, goes right through the middle uv it--an' it was thin as fine a field of whate, jist shot out, as you'd wish to luk at; an' it was a purty sight to see it wavin' so beautifully wid every air of wind that was goin' over it, dancin' like to the music of a thrush, that was singin'

down below in the hidge.[446] Well, ma'am, I crasst over the style that's there yit, and wint along fair and aisy, till I was near about the middle o' the field, whin somethin' med me cast my eyes to the ground, a little before me; an' thin I saw, as sure as I'm sittin'

here, no less nor three o' the Leprechauns, all bundled together like so miny tailyors, in the middle o' the path before me. They worn't hammerin' their pumps, nor makin' any kind of n'ise whatever; but there they wor, the three little fellows, wid their cocked hats upon thim, an' their legs gothered up undher thim, workin' away at their thrade as hard as may be. If you wor only to see, ma'am, how fast their little ilbows wint as they pulled out their inds! Well, every one o' thim had his eye cocked upon me, an' their eyes wor as bright as the eye of a frog, an' I cudn't stir one step from the spot for the life o' me. So I turned my head round, and prayed to the Lord in his marcy to deliver me from thim, and when I wint to luk at thim agin, ma'am, not a sight o' thim was to be seen: they wor gone like a dhrame."--"But, Molly, why did you not catch them?"--"I was afeard, ma'am, that's the thruth uv it; but maybe I was as well widout thim. I niver h'ard tell of a Leprechaun yit that wasn't too many for any one that cotch him."--"Well, and Molly, do you think there are any Leprechauns now?"--"It's my belief, ma'am, they're all gone out of the country, cliver and clane, along wid the Fairies; for I niver hear tell o' thim now at all."

Mrs. L. having now attained her object, after a little more talk with the good old woman, took her leave, attended by Mary, who would see her a piece of the way home. And Mary being asked what she thought of the Leprechauns, confessed her inability to give a decided opinion: her mother, she knew, was incapable of telling a lie, and yet she had her doubts if there ever were such things as Leprechauns.

The following tale of a Cluricaun, related by the writer of the Legend of Bottle Hill, is of a peculiar character. We have never heard anything similar of a Leprechaun.

_The Little Shoe._

"Now tell me, Molly," said Mr. Coote to Molly Cogan, as he met her on the road one day, close to one of the old gateways of Kilmallock, "did you ever hear of the Cluricaun?"--"Is it the Cluricaun? Why, thin, to be shure; aften an' aften. Many's the time I h'ard my father, rest his sowl! tell about 'em over and over agin."--"But did you ever see one, Molly--did you ever see one yourself?"--"Och! no, I niver seen one in my life; but my gran'father, that's my father's father, you know, he seen one, one time, an' cotch him too."--"Caught him! Oh! Molly, tell me how was that."

"Why, thin, I'll tell ye. My gran'father, you see, was out there above in the bog, dhrawin' home turf, an' the poor ould mare was tir't afther her day's work, an' the ould man wint out to the stable to look afther her, an' to see if she was aitin' her hay; an' whin he come to the stable door there, my dear, he h'ard sumthin' hammerin', hammerin', hammerin', jist for all the wurld like a shoemaker makin' a shoe, and whis'lin' all the time the purtiest chune he iver h'ard in his whole life afore. Well, my gran'father he thought it was the Cluricaun, an' he sed to himsilf, sez he, 'I'll ketch you, if I can, an' thin I'll have money enough always.' So he opened the door very quitely, an' didn't make a taste o' n'ise in the wurld, an' luked all about, but the niver a bit o' the little man cud he see anywhare, but he h'ard his hammerin' and whis'lin', an' so he luked and luked, till at last he seen the little fellow; an' whare was he, do ye think, but in the girth undher the mare; an' there he was, wid his little bit ov an apron an him, an' his hammer in his hand, an' a little red night-cap an his head, an' he makin' a shoe; an he was so busy wid his work, an' was hammerin' an' whis'lin' so loud, that he niver minded my gran'father, till he cotch him fast in his hand. 'Faix, I have ye now,' says he, 'an' I'll niver let ye go till I git yer purse--that's what I won't; so give it here at onst to me, now.' 'Stop, stop,' says the Cluricaun; 'stop, stop,' says he, 'till I get it for ye.' So my gran'father, like a fool, ye see, opened his hand a little, an' the little weeny chap jumped away laughin', an' he niver seen him any more, an' the divil a bit o' the purse did he git; only the Cluricaun left his little shoe that he was makin'. An' my gran'father was mad enough wid himself for lettin' him go; but he had the shoe all his life, an' my own mother tould me she aftin seen it, an' had it in her hand; an' 'twas the purtiest little shoe she ivir seen."--"An' did you see it yourself, Molly?"--"Oh! no, my dear, 'twas lost long afore I was born; but my mother tould me aftin an' aftin enough."

FOOTNOTES:

[427] Mr. Croker says, that according to the Munster peasantry the ordinary attire of the Fairy is a black hat, green coat, white stockings, and red shoes.

[428] In Irish as in Erse, [Irish Uncial: daine mai?] (_deene mah_).

[429] See above, p. 26.

[430] They are [Irish Uncial: sia] (_shia_), [Irish Uncial: sia?ra]

(_shifra_), [Irish Uncial: siacaire] (_shicare_), [Irish Uncial: sig]

(_shee_), [Irish Uncial: sige] (_sheee_), [Irish Uncial: sigib](_sheeidh_) all denoting, spirit, fairy. The term [Irish Uncial: sig] also signifies a hag, and a hillock, and as an adjective, spiritual.

[431] We never heard a fairy-legend from any of the Connaught-men with whom we conversed in our boyhood. Their tales were all of Finn-mac-Cool and his heroes.

[432] In Irish, [Irish Uncial: dia aoine] (_dhia eene_). We are inclined to think that he must have added, [Irish Uncial: dia dardaoin, dia aoine] (_dhia dhardheen, dhia eene_), _i.e._ Thursday, Friday; for we can see no reason for omitting Thursday.

[433] See below, _Brittany_ and _Spain_, in both of which the legend is more perfect; but it is impossible to say which is the original.

Parnell's pleasing Fairy Tale is probably formed on this Irish version, yet it agrees more with the Breton legend.

[434] This story may remind one of the Wonderful Lamp, and others.

There is something of the same kind in the Pentamerone.

[435] _Inis_, pronounced sometimes _Inch_, (like the Hebrew _Ee_ (??) and the Indian _Dsib_) is either island or coast, bank of sea or river.

The Ang.-Sax. [Old English: ig] (_ee_) seems to have had the same extent of signification, hence Chelsea, Battersea, etc., which never could have been islands. Perhaps [Old English: eordig] (_worthy_, _worth_) was similar, as _werd_, _werth_, in German is an island.

[436] Mr. Croker says this is _moruach_, sea-maid; the only word we find in O'Reilly is [Irish Uncial: muiri?mgeac] (_murirgach_). We have met no term answering to _merman_.

[437] It is a rule of the Irish language, that the initial consonant of an oblique case, or of a word _in regimine_, becomes aspirated; thus _Pooka_ (nom.), _na Phooka_ (gen.), _mac_ son, _a mhic_ (_vic_) my son.

[438] In Irish [Irish Uncial: lobaircin] (_lubarkin_); the Ulster name is Logheryman, in Irish [Irish Uncial: locarman] (_lucharman_). For the Cork term Cluricaun, the Kerry Luricaun and the Tipperary Lurigadaun, we have found no equivalents in the Irish dictionaries.

The short _o_ in Irish, we may observe, is pronounced as in French and Spanish, _i. e._ as _u_ in _but_, _cut_; _ai_ nearly as _a_ in _fall_.

It may be added, on account of the following tales, that in Kildare and the adjoining counties the short English _u_, in _but_, _cut_, etc., is invariably pronounced as in _pull_, _full_, while this _u_, is pronounced as that in _but_, _cut_.

[439] The Ulster _Lucharman_ also has such an English look, that we should be tempted to derive it from the Ang.-Sax. _lacan_, _l?can_, to play. Loki _Lojemand_, or Loki Playman, is a name of the Eddaic deity Loki in the Danish ballads.

[440] In the place of the Witch of Edmonton usually quoted with this, _Lubrick_ is plainly the Latin _lubricus_.

[441] It will be observed that these, as well as the Young Piper in the Appendix, are related in the character of a peasant. This was in accordance with a frame that was proposed for the Fairy Legends, but which proved too difficult of execution to be adopted.

[442] Lit. Yellow-stick, the ragwort or ragweed, which grows to a great size in Ireland.

[443] A kind of spade with but one step, used in Leinster.

[444] All that is said in this legend about the beer is a pure fiction, for we never heard of a Leprechaun drinking or smoking. It is, however, a tradition of the peasantry, that the Danes used to make beer of the heath. It was a Protestant farmer in the county of Cavan, that showed such knowledge of the siege of Derry; the Catholic gardener who told us this story, knew far better. It is also the popular belief that the Danes keep up their claim on Ireland, and that a Danish father, when marrying his daughter, gives her a portion in Ireland.

[445] _i. e._ Felix. On account of the Romish custom of naming after Saints, Felix, Thaddaeus, Terence, Augustine, etc., are common names among the peasantry.

[446] In our Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 16, we noticed the coincidence between this and a passage in an Arabic author. We did not then recollect the following verses of Milton,

The willows and the hazle copses green Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.

_Lycidas_, 42.

The simile of the moon among the stars in the same place, we have since found in the Nibelungen Lied (st. 285), and in some of our old poets, and Hammer says (Sehirin i. note 7), that it occurs even to satiety in Oriental poetry. In like manner Camoens' simile of the mirror, mentioned in the same place, occurs in Poliziano's Stanze i. 64.

SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS.

Huar Prownie coad agus curochd, Agus cha dian Prownie opar tullidh.

Brownie has got a cowl and coat, And never more will work a jot.

STEWART.

Colonies of Gothic Fairies, it would appear, early established themselves in the Highlands, and almost every Lowland, German, and Scandinavian Fairy or Dwarf-tale will there find its fellow. The Gaelic Fairies are very handsome in their persons; their usual attire is green. They dance and sing, lend and borrow, and they make cloth and shoes in an amazingly short space of time. They make their _raids_ upon the low country, and carry off women and children; they fetch midwives to assist at the birth of their children, and mortals have spent a night at the fairy revels, and next morning found that the night had extended a hundred years. Highland fairies also take the diversion of the chase. "One Highlander," says Mc.Culloch,[447] "in passing a mountain, hears the tramp of horses, the music of the horn, and the cheering of the huntsmen; when suddenly a gallant crew of thirteen fairy hunters, dressed in green, sweep by him, the silver bosses of their bridles jingling in the night breeze."