Page 23 of The Bunsby Papers (second series): Irish Echoes

  THE TIPPERARY VENUS.

  Amongst a people so simple-hearted and enthusiastic as the Irish, it isnot at all surprising that a firm and implicit belief in supernalagency should be almost universal. To vivid imaginations, ever on thestretch for the romantic, yearning ever for something beyond the dullrealities of commonplace existence, there is something extremelyfascinating in the brain revellings of Fairy Land.

  Now the Irish fairies are very numerous, and all as well classified,and their varied occupations defined and described by supernaturalists,as though they really were amongst the things that be. The "learnedpundits" in such matters declare that the economy of human nature isentirely carried on through their agency. Philosophers havedemonstrated the atomic vitality of the universe, and the believer infairies simply allots them their respective places and duties in thegeneral distribution. They tell you that every breath of air, everydrop of water, every leaf and flower, teems with actual life. Myriadsof tiny atomies, they say, are employed carrying on the business ofexistence, animal, vegetable, and atmospheric. Here are crowds ofindustrious little chemists, extracting dew from moonbeams, which theydeliver over to relays of fairy laborers, by them to be applied to thelanguishing grass. The noxious exhalations of the earth are, by asimilar process, gathered from decaying vegetation, and dispersed orcondensed into refreshing rain. The warm sunbeams are by them broughtdown and scattered through the fields; it is the beautiful ministry ofone class to breathe upon, and gently force open, the budding blossoms,while, another seduously warms and nurtures the ripening corn, andtends the luscious fruits. Mischievous fellows there also are, whosedelight it is to try and frustrate the exertions of the workers. Theytravel from place to place, loaded with malign influences; blight andmildew, and all the destructive agents that blast the hopes of theagriculturist are under their control; and, with an industry nearlyequal to their opponents, they employ their time in trainingcaterpillars and other devouring insects to assist them in the work ofdesolation.

  Many are the battles, we are informed, that occur between the twoopposing classes, and it depends upon which side has the best of thecontest what the result may be to the defeated object; whether theycontend for the life of some delicate flower, or whether the poorfarmer's toils were to be rewarded or rendered hopeless by the safetyor the destruction of his entire crops.

  But to leave this fanciful, and, it must be admitted, poetical theory,our business now is with an individual of a highly responsible class inthe world of Fairydom--_The Leprechaun_. A most important personage heis; being the custodian of all hidden treasure, it is he who fabricatesthe gold within the rock-encircled laboratory. The precious gems, thediamond, sapphire, ruby, amethyst, emerald, and all the world-covetedjewels, are in the safe guardianship of the Leprechaun; and fatal it isto him when aught is discovered and torn from his grasp--for his fairyexistence, his immortal essence, is lost with it; he can no longersport through the air, invisible to mortal ken, but is compelled totake a tangible form, and to work at a degrading occupation--that ofmaking and mending the shoes of his former fairy companions.

  The experiences of the writer of this sketch in fairy lore andanecdote, were mostly gathered from a wild, Tipperary sort of cousin,some dozens of times removed, one Roderick O'Callaghan--familiarlyRory--or as, by an easy corruption, he was known "the country round,"Roarin' O'Callaghan, who, in his time, had gathered them from thewilder henchmen and followers by whom he was surrounded, when, adevil-may-care gossoon, he wandered among the _Galtie mountains_,the especial pet and persecutor of the entire neighborhood.

  Many and many were the mischievous pranks recorded of young Rory. Ialmost wish that I had begun with the determination of recounting a fewof them; but, as I have set myself another task, I must defer thatintention until a future opportunity. I am not at all certain still,but that my erratic nib--for I write "_currente calamo_," and withoutmuch especial method--may diverge from the grand current of narrative,and, in spite of myself, imperceptibly stray into the now interdictedby-way.

  It was from Rory that I heard the strange tale I am now about torelate. Desperate boy-rivals were we, at that time, I must tell you,for the affectionate regards of a young beauty who played old Harrywith the juvenile susceptibilities of the whole vicinage. Ah! now thatmy memory has reverted to that epoch, digression is inevitable. LovelyPolly O'Connor!--bless my soul; a sigh, even at this distant period;how very tenacious these boy-attachments are. I see her as plainly now,mentally pictured, as though in very deed she stood before me.

  Both Rory and I endeavored, in the ardent enthusiasm of our fledglingpassion, to give vent to the burning thoughts that flamed within us,through the lover's peculiar channel--poetry. My own extraordinaryeffusion I remember--his I have preserved, and although, at the time, Iknew well which was best entitled to the world's consideration, Isubmit both productions now without a remark. They will at least servefor a description, however insufficient, of our inspiratress.

  I had an immense advantage over my competitor in one instance; for,having an acquaintance in the editorial department of the localnewspaper, my lucubration lent a lustre to the poets' corner, while, Iam ashamed to confess, I exerted, successfully, the same influence tokeep Rory's out; it was ungenerous, I own, unpardonable; but what won'ta boy-rival do to clear the onward path before the impetuosity of afirst love.

  But here is the affair, just as it appeared in the Tipperary Gazette,headed, as I thought, with becoming modesty:

  LINES TO A YOUNG LADY.

  I will not venture to compare Those flashing eyes To sunny skies; To threads of gold thy wealth of hair; Thy cheek unto the rose's glow; Thy polished brow, To lilies glancing in the light, Or Parian white; Thy bosom to the virgin snow-- For these Are weak and well-worn similes.

  Thine eyes are like--like--let me see; The violet's hue, Reflected through A drop of dew; No, that won't do. No semblance true In ample nature can there be To equal their intensity-- Their heavenly blue. T'were just as vain to seek, Through every flower to match thy glowing cheek. No gold could shed Such radiant glory as ensaints thy head. Besides, I now remember, Your golden tresses are but flattered red, And thine are living amber, As, when 'tis ripest through the waving corn, The sunbeams glance upon a harvest morn.

  To the pale lustre of thy brow, The lily's self perforce must bow-- The marbles cold, And very old; Thy bosom as the new-fallen snow Is quite As white, And melts as soon with Love's warm glow. But then, While that receives an early stain, Thy purer bosom doth still pure remain.

  Since, to my mind, I cannot find A simile of any kind, I argue hence Thou art the sense And spirit of all excellence; The charm-bestowing fount, from whence Fate doth dispense Its varied bounties to the fair, The loveliest of whom but share A portion of the gifts thou well canst spare.

  It will scarcely be credited, that after that brilliant compliment toPolly's charms, the little jilt, her well-fortified heart not beingassailable by Parnassian pellets, looked still colder upon thesuffering perpetrator. However, the persevering nature of mypassion--and, indeed, it was then a real one--was not to be set asideby rebuffs. Again and again I returned to the attack, and, pen in hand,racked my unfortunate brains through all the strategy of acrostics,birth-day odes, and sonnets. It was not until some time afterwards thatI discovered the real reason of my ill-success. The writing of the"Lines" was, perhaps, a pardonable liberty, but printing them wasatrocious; so that, in fact, my unworthy suppression of Rory'sconcoctions brought its own punishment--not that he was a bit moresuccessful than I, for, as we soon became sensibly aware, the charming,but conscienceless little coquette had even more strings to her bowthan she could conveniently fiddle with; indeed, that there wasn't adecent-looking boy in the academy that she didn't encourage, or seem toencourage,
so generalizing was her flirtation system.

  And, after all, to _decline_ upon foxy Tom Gallagher, the more thanmiddle-aged Dispensary doctor, a long, straggling, splay-footeddisciple of AEsculapius, with a head of hair like a door-mat--that shehas time and again watched and laughed her little ribs sore at, as heshuffled along the street. Ah! Polly O'Connor!

  But, allow me to present to your notice Rory's poetical offering at herinexorable feet. It is, as you may perceive, ambitious, and, however Imight have underrated its merits at one time, I _now_ think it smackssomewhat of the old Elizabethan relish.

  Judge for yourself:

  Upon some sly affair Connubially dishonest-- Vide Lempriere-- Jupiter was _non est_. And dame Juno thought Scandal and ecarte Consolation brought, So gave a little party.

  Soon the Graces three Came, in evening dresses, Very fond of tea They were, with water-cresses. Venus came, and son, Who richly did deserve a Birching for the fun He made of Miss Minerva.

  Soon an earthly guest Came by invitation, And, among the rest, Created a sensation. My Polly 'twas, and she Perfection so resembled, For her sov'reignty The Queen of Beauty trembled.

  After tea there came A gambling speculation, Bringing with the game, Celestial perturbation. For my Polly, then, Playing with discretion, From each goddess won All her rich possession.

  Pallas lost her mind, With wit and wisdom glowing; Aphrodite pined To see her beauty going. Juno speedily Lost her regal presence; And the Graces three, Lost their very essence.

  On this earthly ball My Polly thus alighted, With the gifts of all The goddesses united. Is it strange that she, Without much endeavor, Quickly won from me Heart and soul for ever?

  These fiery manifestations, however, had not the slightest effect uponthe arctic nature of the frigid Polly. To be sure, her smile was still"kindly, but frosty," to reverse the Shakespearean aphorism, and as itwas dispensed with due impartiality amongst the entire school of heradmirers, none were driven to immediate despair, but each flatteredhimself at the time being that he was the favored one. Our limitedsupply of pocket-money was transmuted into rings and brooches, forPolly had an inordinate, or rather, the usual predilection of her sex,for _bijouterie_, and as the rings on trees denote the number ofyears that have rolled over their leafy heads, so the correspondingtrophies upon Polly's taper fingers, denoted the amount of her victims.

  The majority of her swains began, however, to slacken in theirattentions, finally dropping off one by one, until the course was leftto Rory and me--praiseworthy examples of a constancy of many months,although as yet not fully known to each other. It was about this timethat rumors began to reach us that old Tom Gallagher, the red-headed,rusty-jointed medico, was a constant, and it was hinted, not unwelcomevisitor at Polly's father's house--by the way, I forgot to mention thatthe O'Connor, _pere_, was the master of a Charter-house school in thetown, and as very a character as such individuals almost invariablyare. He had originally been a soldier, so rough, unpolished, anduncouth, that it was a serious question in the neighborhood, if prettyPolly could by any possibility be an offshoot from such a crabbedstock.

  At the time of which I write, availability for the particular postassigned to favorites at court, was the last thing thought of, and theO'Connor having rendered some questionable service to the thengovernment, either in making rebels or ensnaring them, he was rewardedwith the position he occupied, although he did not possess a singlerequisite for that responsible situation.

  Ignorant of the first principles of education, he delegated his task tosubordinates, whose capacity he was incompetent to judge of. Hismilitary antecedents made him a harsh, unbending disciplinarian, and asit was in a routine of which he knew nothing whatever, he felt itincumbent upon him to make up in severity and bluster for his lack ofknowledge.

  But to return to Polly. When the certainty of her prodigious perfidyreached me, I imagined myself a kind of master of Ravenswood, and tookto melancholy and light food for some days. Reflection and strongphysic, however, soon restored me to something like equanimity, and,becoming a little better reconciled to the annoyance of life, I rushedfor consolation and revenge to the poet's corner of the TipperaryGazette. It was then and there that I produced the following solemnwarning to Polly O'Connor, and all others of her sex, who, when loveand a full purse are weighed together, get into the scale on the lucreside, making poor, shivering Cupid "kick the beam." It was near the14th of February, so, in the savage expectation of crushing her heartbeneath the satirical avalanche, I designated my contribution--

  A VALENTINE

  FOR HER WHO WILL UNDERSTAND IT.

  As Plutus one day, in his chariot of gold, Was languidly taking the air, Looking, spite of his riches, distressingly old, Although dressed with remarkable care; He met with young Cupid, who, stayed in his flight By the wealthy god's dazzling array, Hovered joyously round on his pinions of light, Highly pleased with the tempting display. "Ride with me," said Plutus, "all this you may share; Ride with me, and garments of gold you may wear."

  Quite delighted, the urchin stepped into the car, Little deeming the roads were so rough; But, repenting his rashness, before he went far He cried, "Stop! I've been jolted enough. Pray excuse me, friend Plutus, though rich be the prize You obligingly offer to me, Your realm is the gloomy earth, mine the bright skies, 'Tis not likely that we should agree. Farewell," said the boy, as he mounted in air, "The heart that Gold worships, Love never can share."

  Having boldly appended my own initials to this scarifying outburst, Iwaited patiently to watch its effect upon the false one. In a few daysI saw her--she looked sad. Ha! she is touched, thought I; and, alas forthe ferocity of human nature, I rejoiced in her apparent affliction. Ina few moments, the sadness deepened on her brow; her lovely lashesbecame burdened with her pearly tears; resolution, revenge, injuredfeelings, all dissolved into nothing before the cruel shower. I'm notquite certain what immediately followed. I believe I flung myselfenthusiastically on the carpet, before the Tipperary Niobe--beseechingher to repose her sorrows in my sympathizing bosom. At all events, Isucceeded in calming her agitation, and after a delicious interview,wherein she thrilled my soul to its centre by the avowal that, howeverappearances might convict her of vacillation, I was, ever had been, andever should be, the sole lord of her affections.

  In that moment of blinding delirium, of course, all that had hithertooccurred was blotted from my memory as thoroughly as a damp spongeobliterates the records on a tablet of ass-skin. With the unreservedconfidence of a relieved heart, she rested her cheek in dangerousproximity to my eager lips, but I had not sufficient courage to takeadvantage of the position. Her wonderful eyes looked sincerity and loveeven into the very depths of my soul. I wasfascinated--bewildered--doubled up and done for, most effectually. "Theevenings were now beautiful," she hinted, together with remoteallusions to "soft twilight's balmy hour," setting suns, and such likedelectations, until I actually summoned up courage sufficient to makean appointment to meet her

  "By moonlight alone."

  Nor had she any reserve while naming the particular grove where ourtrysting was to take place.

  It was with the proud port of a conqueror that I deigned to tread thevulgar pavement after my never-to-be-forgotten interview with theCircean Polly; victory swelled within my expanding chest, like too muchsoup. Polly was mine; what a triumph I had achieved. I do verilybelieve, if, at this juncture, it were at all essential, or even couldbe remotely conducive to Polly's tranquillity, that I should go throughthe then popular amusement of hanging, I would have gone to the halterwith nearly as much cheerfulness as though it were the altar; but,fortunately, I was not called upon to testify the loyalty of mydevotion by asphyxiation.

  Rory and I met as usual that afterno
on, and I remarked that a sort ofill-concealed joy was working like an undercurrent through hisfeatures--now he would sing vociferously; anon, suddenly subside intoquiet--it was very curious--I determined, however, to discover, ifpossible, the cause of his self-satisfaction.

  "Rory," said I.

  "Hallo!"

  "What makes you so silent?"

  "Am I silent?" he replied, bursting instantly into a merry song.

  "There's something on your mind, at all events; that I know."

  "May-be there is; but do you know that's exactly what I was going tosay to you?"

  "Is it possible?" I rejoined, as demurely as I could, but my stingingcheek betrayed me.

  "Why, how you blush," he went on. "Ha! have I found you out?"

  "What do you mean?" said I, in an instant changed from convict tocriminal.

  "You have a sweetheart."

  "And so have you," I retorted, as severely as I could.

  "I don't deny it," said he, laughing like mad.

  "Neither do I, if it comes to that."

  Now, be it understood, we had neither of us, as yet, confessed to theother the reality of the attachment we had each conceived for thedivine Polly.

  "You are really in love, then, Rory?"

  "Oh! don't mention it," replied he. "Ocean deep, my boy; fathomless;out of soundings one instant; the next, floating nautilus-like upon thewarm, tranquil bosom of an oriental lake; now, lifted upon the very topwave of lunacy, to clutch at stars; and sunk in the hollow depths ofdark despair." Rory was curiously ornate in his amatory outbreaks."What do you think?" he went on, with a dash of his hithertoconfidence. "I have been at the Heliconian again."

  "No!"

  "Upon my life! deep draughts! inspiration. Her eyes--oh! such eyes.You've seen them; small heavens, with a sun in each; saw herto-day--all fixed, my boy; she loves me--said so, and yet my pulsedidn't overflow and choke me; heart in my mouth, to be sure--but gulpedit down again with a ponderous effort; going to meet her to-night, byappointment; what do you think of that, my boy? what do you think ofthat?"

  Curious coincidence, thought I, but said nothing.

  "Shall I read you what I have been doing?" said Rory, with a slightlyapologetic gesture.

  "Only too happy, of course," said I, mentally anathematizing him for aninjudicious bore, thus to parade his flaming productions before--ahem!a writer for the press; but here is Rory's effusion; he gave me a copy.

  "You must know," he premised, "that I had some misgivings about acertain elderly codger, whom I frequently discovered in tantalizingcompanionship with my beloved; hence my Valentine is a littlesuggestive."

  More curious coincidences, said something within me, striking upon theear of my heart rather alarmingly; but the great pacificator, conceit,soon quelled the emotion, and I was all absorbed in self love anddelicious anticipations, when Rory cleared his throat, and read

  AN ALLEGORY.

  As Cupid one day, with his quiver well stored, Fluttered round, upon wickedness bent, Right and left, his insidious love-messengers poured, And hearts by the hundred were shamefully scored, To the mischievous archer's content. 'Till at last he encountered King Death on his way, Whose arrows more fatally flew. In vain did the emulous urchin display All his arts, his companion still carried the day, For his shafts were, as destiny, true.

  Boy Cupid, annoyed at the other's success, Invoked cousin Mercury's aid, Who, having for mischief a talent no less, Changed their quivers, so featly that neither could guess, Such complete transposition were made. The result, up to this very hour you may see, For when very old folk feel love's smart, Cupid's arrow by Death surely missioned must be; But when youth in its loveliness sinks to decay, Death's quiver doth furnish the dart.

  Here was a startling resemblance, with a vengeance; in spite of mynew-fledged confidence, and the unmistakably excellent opinion Ientertained of number one, I began to feel somewhat nervous.

  "How do you like it?" said Rory, evidently nettled at my inattention.

  "I don't like it all."

  "Eh!"

  "I don't mean that; I mean--the poetry is superb--lovely--but"----

  "But what? you are laboring to give vent to something, evidently--outwith it, man," Rory continued, moodily.

  "Well, then, since you press me," said I, "I certainly have mymisgivings."

  "And what about, pray?"

  "May I venture to ask who the elderly person is, at whom your allegoryis directed?"

  "I have no objection at all," Rory replied, "if you give me your wordyou won't mention it again."

  "Honor bright."

  "Well, then, it's old Tom Gallagher, the saw-bones."

  Oh! my internal machinery ceased working, for an instant; had I agirl's privilege, I should have fainted outright; it was a shock; astunning one, and no mistake.

  "What's the matter with you?" inquired Rory, seeing me gasp like afresh-caught perch.

  "Oh! Rory," I cried, grasping his hand with the sudden affection thatsimilarity of misfortune always instigates. "Rory, my friend, did yousee my Valentine in the _Tipperary Gazette_?"

  "Yes, and liked it," said he, in a tone of sincerity; "but who wasPlutus?"

  "By all that's excruciating, old Tom Gallagher."

  Rory turned as pale as a turnip.

  "And the confounded little coquette who bamboozled you to day," Icontinued, courageously, despite of Rory's dark frown, "and whoconglomerated my reasoning faculties in the same way, was Miss PollyO'Connor."

  It was now Rory's turn to have his mechanism bothered.

  "What do you mean?" he whispered, tremblingly.

  "I mean," said I, "that this very morning, Miss Polly O'Conner swore asbinding an oath as ever flashed out of a pair of eyes, or was sealedupon a pair of lips, that I was to have the fee simple of her heart forlife, and to settle the affair, we are to meet this evening, at eighto'clock, in Duffy's borieen, at the little stile leading into Murphy'slane."

  "Just the spot, and just the time, by Jove, that I was to be there forthe same purpose," cried Rory, gnashing his teeth in a biting rage.

  For a few moments, we stood silently regarding each other, and at last,broke into a violent fit of laughter; it was what old Tom himself,confound his coppery heart, would call "the crisis;" we were cured--notimmediately, however--the dangerous point was passed--time and low dietdid the rest.

  The inhuman little savage confessed, shortly after, that she hadadopted that nefarious plan, in order that, by meeting together, wemight--how, she didn't care--come to some explanation with regard tothe duality of our attachment, and the double duplicity of ourTipperary Venus.

  And now to return--it's a long way back, but never mind. I'm riding anold hack; few that's used to such journeys. To my first intention; thatis, to illustrate the position in Fairydom of the _Leprechaun_.

  It is one Rory's wild tales, and, as it mightily interested me--to besure, I was young at the time--I trust, gentle reader, it may not proveentirely devoid of attraction for you.

  In the little village of Templeneiry, situated at the base of one ofthe Galtee mountains, whose summit looks down upon the diminutivehamlet from the altitude of two thousand feet, there dwelt a verycelebrated and greatly-sought-after individual, one Terry Magra, thePiper; there wasn't a _pathern_, fair, wake, wedding, or merrimentof any description, for miles round, in which he and his dhrones werenot called into requisition: there wasn't a performer on that noisy,but much-loved instrument, that could at all compare with Terry; it wassolemnly asserted, indeed, that his superiority was the result of fairyagency; a belief which he was not unwilling to foster and encourage,inasmuch, as it gave him a wonderful importance among the superstitiouspeasantry.

  Now, with grief it must be recorded, Terry was too much addicted to thealmost national failing, that of intoxication. Whisky was to him theuniversal panacea; did his sweetheart, and he had plenty of them, frownupon his tender suit, whisky banished th
e mortification; was his rentin arrear, and no sign of anything turning up, whisky wiped off theaccount, instanter; did all the ill-omened birds that flock around thehead of poverty, assail him, he fired a stiff tumbler of whisky punchat them, and they dispersed.

  On the whole, it was a jolly vagabond, reckless, and variegated life,that of Terry Magra; his supernatural reputation, together with thegeneral belief in the positive existence of fairies, entertained by thecommunity in which he exercised his pleasant vocation, rendering him afit subject to receive any spiritual impression, howsoever removed fromthe common course of events.

  It was one moonlight night that Terry, after having attended a grandfestival in the neighborhood, brought up, as was his usual custom, at aSheebieen house, where a few seasoned old casks, like himself,invariably "topped off" with a round of throat-raspers; here he was theSir Oracle; the lord of the soil himself--did they ever see him, whichwas not at all probable, for, upon the means wrung by his agents fromthe poor wretches, by Providence delegated to his care--those sameagents, by the way, managing to squeeze out a comfortable per-centagefor themselves--he lives in London. The lord of the soil, as I said,could not be served with readier obedience, or listened to with moreprofound attention.

  The roaring song, and joke, and fun abounded upon this occasion, andTerry improvised so wild and inspiriting a strain upon his famouspipes, that it was generally conceded, with enthusiasm tinctured withawe, that no mortal hand could have produced such astounding music.

  At length, the sleepy proprietor of the place put a sudden end to thejollification, by stopping the supplies, the only way in which theWidow Brady--for I'm sorry to say it was a woman, and a decent-lookingone too, who presided over this Pandora's box, where Hope forever liesimprisoned--could break up the party.

  Terry, after vainly endeavoring to mollify the widow, gathered up hismagic pipes, and sallied forth. Adieus were exchanged; friendly hugs,and protestations of eternal friendship passed between the stammering,roaring crowd, to be ratified hereafter, it might be, by a crack on theskull from a tough _alpieen_. At last they separated, each to find, ashe could, his way home by the devious light of a clouded moon.

  Now, Terry lived a smart way up the mountain, and so, with, as he said,"the sense fairly bilin' in him everywhere but his murdherin' legs,"that persisted in carrying him in the opposite direction to that whichhis intention pointed, the contest between his will and his locomotivepowers making his course somewhat irregular--our bold piper proceededon his way, humming snatches of songs, and every now and then, by wayof diversion, waking the echoes by a fierce blast from his "chanter."

  Whether Terry resorted to these means for the purpose of keeping hiscourage from slumbering within his breast, I know not; but, inasmuch asthe ground he was traversing had a general fairy repute, I think itmore than likely that, notwithstanding the whisky-valor with which hehad armed himself, it was not without considerable trepidation heendeavored to make his way through the enchanted precincts.

  There was one isolated mound, which tradition had positively marked asa favorite resort of the "good people," and as Terry neared it,apprehension smote against his heart lustily. For the first time, hefaltered. The moon, which had hitherto seemed to light him famously,shot suddenly behind a dense, black cloud, and Terry thought thatblindness had fallen upon him, so black did everything appear. At thesame moment, a gust of wind shook the crisp leaves of the aspen trees,with a noise like the rattling of dry bones, that sunk into his verysoul. He was frightened--he couldn't go a step further. Down on hisknees he fell, in the middle of the road, and, as a last resource,tried to collect himself sufficiently to mutter through the form ofexorcisement used by the peasantry in similar emergencies. To hishorror he discovered that he couldn't remember a syllable of thematter. He resorted to his prayers, but his traitor-memory deserted himthere also.

  Now his perturbation and dismay increased, for he knew by those signsthat he was "fairy-struck." There was nothing left him but to run forit; but, to his yet greater terror, on endeavoring to rise from hisknees, he found himself rooted to the ground like a tree; not a musclecould he move. Then--as he described it--

  "The fairy bells rung like mad inside of me skull. The very brains ofme was twisted about, as a washerwoman twists a wet rag; somethin' hitme a bat on the head, an' down I dropped, as dead as a herrin'."

  When Terry came to himself again, the darkness had vanished, and thewhole scene was glowing with the mellow softness of an eastern morning.The atmosphere was imbued with a delicious warmth, while a subduedcrimson haze hung between earth and sky. The common road-stones lookedlike lumps of heated amber. The very dew-drops on the grass glitteredlike rubies, while the noisy little mountain-fall, where it broke whiteagainst the rocks, flashed and sparkled in the rosy light, like jets ofliquid gold, filling the air with living gems.

  "Be jabers, an' this is Fairy-land, sure enough," said Terry; "an' ifthe little blaggards has got anything agin' me, it's in a murdherin'bad box I am, the divil a doubt of it. I've nothin' for it, anyway, butto take it aisy." So he sat upon a large stone on the wayside, andgazed with intense admiration on the lovely scene before him, inlywondering what kind of demonstration the inhabitants of this enchantedspot would make when they discerned his audacious intrusion.

  Several minutes had elapsed, and Terry heard nothing but a small,musical hum, barely discernible by the sense, which every warm currentof air caused to rise and fall upon his charmed ear, in undulations ofdreamy melody. Suddenly, however, his attention was directed towards afallen leaf, which some vagrant breeze appeared to toss to and fro inmerry play. For a long time he watched its eccentric movements, untilat last a gust of wind lifted it up, and whirling it round and round incircling eddies, dropped it on the piece of rock where he was sitting.

  Now Terry perceived a multitude of tiny creatures, ant-like, busiedaround the still fluttering leaf, and on stooping to examine themclosely, his heart leaped like a living thing within his bosom, hisbreath came short and gasping, and his tongue clove to his palate.

  "There they are, an' no mistake," thought he; "an' my time is come. Maythe blessed saints stand betune me an harm."

  The crowds of atomies which he had supposed to be ants, were beings ofthe most exquisite human form; anon, the air grew thick with them.Some, winged like butterflies, disported around his head, and alightedupon his garments, pluming their bejewelled pinions and then dartingoff again.

  "It's mighty quare that they don't give me a hint that I'm out of meelement," thought Terry, as, emboldened by their passiveness, he gentlytook the leaf up in his hand, on which were dozens of them yetclustered; he held the fairy-laden leaf up to his eyes; still they keptgambolling about it; they overrun his fingers, and clambered up hissleeve, but no intimation did they give that Terry was of othermaterial than one of the rocks by which they were surrounded; theyinvaded his face, examined his mouth, and peered into his eyes, yetthere was no indication that his presence was acknowledged.

  Resolving to test the matter at once, with an effort of courage, herose up gradually, and looked around him; all was quiet.

  "If any thing will make them spake, the pipes will," said he, bravely,and so, filling his chanter, he gave one preliminary blast, and findingthat it met with no response, save from the distant echoes, that sentit sweeping back in multiplied reverberations, he commenced to play oneof his most lauded planxtys; never had he satisfied himself better, butnever had he exerted himself before a more unappreciative assembly; theuniversal fun and frolic went on as before.

  His artistic self-love was sadly wounded. "The divil such a lot ofstupid fairies did I ever hear tell of," said he, throwing down hispipes in disgust. "An' bad luck attend the grunt more yez'll get out o'me; such elegant music as I've been threaten yez wid, an' the never anear cocked among the lot of yez."

  "A thin, Misther Terry Magra," said the smallest possible kind of avoice, but which thrilled through the piper as though it werethunder-loud. "Shure, an' you're not goin' to concate
that it's musicyou've been tearin' out ov them tree-stumps of yours; be the powers ofwar, it's a tom-cat I thought you wor squeezin' undher yer arms."

  "Thank you, kindly, yer honor, for the compliment, whoever you are,"replied Terry, when, on turning round to the quarter from whence thevoice proceeded, he saw, sitting on the branch of a tree beside him, adiminutive piper, in all respects a perfect resemblance to himself;dressed in similar garments, even to the dilapidated _caubieen_,with an atom of a _dhudieen_ stuck in it; but what elicited hisadmiration most of all, was the weeny set of pipes the swaggeringlittle ruffian carried on his arm.

  "Your soul to glory," cried Terry, his excitement completely masteringhis apprehension. "An' if you can blow any music out of them, I'll givein soon an' suddent."

  "Howld yer prate, you ugly man, an' bad Christian," cried the littlefellow; "sure, an' it's plinty of help I'll have;" with that, he putthe bellows under his arm, and blew a blast that sounded like thewhistle of a tom-tit in distress; a signal which was quickly answeredby similar sounds, issuing from all directions; and very soon Terry sawgroups of little pipers climbing up the tree until the branch wasfairly alive with them, each one an exact counterpart of the first.

  "May I never sin if the sowls of all the Terry Magras, past, present,an' to come, ain't to the fore, it's my belief, this minnit," said thepiper, in an ecstasy of amazement.

  "We must graize our elbows before we begin, boys," said Terry's friend,producing a fairy bottle.

  "Here's your health, Misther Terry Magra," says the little vagabond,with a ghost of a laugh; and up went the bottle to his head.

  "Here's your health, Misther Terry Magra," they all repeated, as thereal mountain dew went merrily round.

  "Faix, an' it's glad enough I'd be to return thanks for the favor,"said Terry, "if it's a thing that I had a toothful of sperrits to joinyez in; more, betoken, I'm as drouthy as a sand-bag this blessed hour."

  "Never be it said that a dhry Christian should keep cotton in hismouth, while we can give him a dhrop to wash it out," said the littlepiper, throwing his bottle at Terry.

  "Bedad, it's a _dhrop_, sure enough, that I'll be suckin' out of this,"said Terry, as he regarded the tiny atom that rested in the palm of hishand. "Bad 'cess to me, if a scooped-out duck-shot wouldn't howld morenourishment. I'm obleeged to you for your good intentions, any way, butI b'leeve I won't be robbin' you this time."

  "Don't be refusin' your liquor, you fool," said the piping little chap,with a wicked look out of his mites of eyes. "I'll be bound that suchliquor never tickled your throat before."

  "Well, rather than appear onfriendly, I'll just go through the motions;so here's jolly good luck to yez all," said Terry, raising thepellet-like material to his lips, when, to his intense satisfaction andwonder, his mouth instantly filled up, and run over, with a perfectflood of such whisky as he owned never yet had blessed his palate;again and again he repeated the experiment, and with the like deliciousresult.

  "Hollo! there, give me back my bottle, you thief of the world; wouldyou ruin us, entirely?" cried the little piper. "If the blaggardwouldn't drink the say dhry, I'm not here."

  "By the sowl of me mother," said Terry, with a loud smack of enjoyment,"if the say was made of such stuff as that, may I never, if I wouldn'tchange places wid a mermaid's husband, and flourish a fish's tail allthe days of my life."

  "But this has nothin' to do concarnin' the music," says the fairy, "so,here goes to show you how much you know about humorin' the pipes." Sosaying, the whole army of pipers set up a chant, so small, and yet soexquisitely sweet and harmonious, that Terry scarcely dared to breathe,for fear of losing the slightest echo of such bewitching strains.

  "What do you say to that?" inquired the little fellow, when they hadfinished.

  "Say to it," cried Terry, flinging his hat upon the ground in anecstasy of delight; "what the mischief can I say? Bedad, there neverwas a mortial had the concate so complately licked out o' him as it'sbeen deludhed out o' me at this present writin, an' to make my wordsgood, av there was a bit of fire near, if I wouldn't make cindhers ofthat murdherin' ould catherwauler ov mine, I'm a grasshopper."

  "It does you credit to own up to it so readily, Terry Magra," said thehead fairy, pleased enough at the compliment. "An', by the way ofrewardin' you for that same, we'll give you a blast of another sort."With that they turned to and executed a jig-tune, so swiftly-fingered,so lively and irresistibly _sole_-inspiring, that, with a wild screamof delight, Terry whipped off his great coat, and jumping on the levelrock, went through the varied complications of the most intricatedescription of Irish dance.

  "Murdher alive, av I only had a partner now," he cried. "Such elegantmusic, an' only one to be enjoyin' it." Faster and faster played thefairy pipers, and yet more madly Terry beat time upon the stone, makingthe mountains resound to his vociferous shouts, until exhausted atlast, he jumped off, and sunk panting on the ground.

  "Oh! _tear an' aigers_!" he cried, "an' av yez have a grain ofcompassion in thim insignificant tiniments of yours, fairies, darlin',won't yez lend us the loan of a pull out of that same bit of a bottle,for it's the seven senses that you've fairly batthered out o' me widthat rattlin' leg-teazer of a chune."

  "Wid a heart an' a half, my hayro!" said the little piper, flingingTerry the fairy-bottle; "it's you that has the parliaminthary unctionfor the creather, if ever a sowl had. Don't be afeard of it, it won'thurt a feather of you, no more nor wather on a duck's back."

  Thus encouraged, Terry lifted his elbow considerably, before he thoughtit prudent to desist, the fairy liquor appearing more delicious witheach gulp, when, all at once--for Terry had a tolerable share ofacuteness for a piper--the thought struck him that the little schemersmight have a motive in thus plying him with such potential stuff.

  "If you're at all inclined for a nap, Terry, my boy," said the fairy,blandly, "there's a lovely bank of moss fornent you, that'll beat thebest feather-bed at the Globe Inn, in the town of Clonmel. Stretchyourself on it, _aroon_, an' we'll keep watch over you as tindherlyas av your own mother was hangin' over yer cradle."

  "Ho! ho! is it there yez are, you sootherin' vagabonds," said Terry tohimself. "It's off o' my guard you want to ketch me, eh?" He wasdetermined, however, to diplomatize, so he replied, with equalpoliteness, "It's thankful that I am to yer honors for the invite, butI wouldn't be makin' such a hole in my manners as to let a wink come onme in such iligant company."

  "Oh, well, just as you like, Terry Magra," observed the fairy, withjust enough of lemon in his tone to convince Terry that his surmise wascorrect. "At all events, if you're not sleepy now, you soon will be,"the little fellow continued, "so, when you are, you will lie downwithout fear. In the meantime, we must go and inform our king howfamously we've amused you, and what a fine fellow you are." So saying,with a sharp little squeal of a laugh, that Terry thought carried withit a sufficiency of sarcasm, the little piper and his companionsrapidly descended from their perch, and vanished from his sight.

  No sooner had they departed when Terry's ears were saluted by asingularly delightful buzzing noise, that, in spite of his endeavor toresist it, caused a growing drowsiness to steal over him. The decliningdaylight deepened into a still more roseate hue. Once or twice hiseyelids drooped, but he recovered himself with a vigorous effort.

  "By the ghost of Moll Kelly," he cried, "I'm a lost mutton, as sure aseggs is chickens, if the sleep masthers me; the pipes is my onlychance." So saying, he shook off the slumberous sensation, and, seizingthe instrument, blazed out into a stormy attack upon "Garryowen," and,sure enough, something like a distant groan, as of disappointment,reached him at the very first snore of the chanter.

  "Ha! ha!" he exclaimed, "it isn't an omadhaun all out yez has to dalewid this time, you little rascals, as cunnin' as ye think yerselves.Bedad, it won't do me any harm to make use of my eyes hereabouts; whoknows but I may light atop of a fairy threasure, and drive theimptiness out of my pocket for ever and ever."

  With this determination, the bo
ld piper proceeded to investigate thecharacter of the ground in his immediate neighborhood. For a short timehe saw nothing remarkable except the circumstance of the wholesurroundings being alive with fairies, to whose presence he wasbecoming more and more habituated; occasionally he would pause in hissearch to view with admiration the energetic way in which a group ofworkers attended to their specific duties. Observing at one time a morethan usual commotion, he was led to give the affair particularscrutiny, when he discovered that it was the scene of a most animatedcontest between two distinct bodies of supernaturals.

  An infant lily-of-the-valley was just raising its head above theyielding earth, softened and broken to assist its upward progress, byscores of busy atomies. Numbers showered its tender leaf withrefreshing dew--procured, as Terry observed, by plunging into thehollow cup of some sturdy neighboring flower, then flying back to theircharge, and shaking the nutritious drops from their wings--others, withmechanical ingenuity, held glasses by which they could concentrate thepassing sunbeams upon the spot, when necessary; while others drovethere with their united pinions the stray breezes, whose invigoratingbreath was needed.

  While Terry was rapt in the delightful contemplation of this curiousscene, all at once he saw that there was something of uncommon interestgoing on amongst the crowd. He observed, in the first instance, thatalthough the labor was not for a moment suspended, yet a solid phalanxof armed fairies had formed about the immediate workers. The reason wassoon obvious, for, careering round and round, or darting to and fro inzigzag courses almost as swiftly as the lightning itself, was anenormous dragon-fly, carrying on its glistening back a diminutive formof a brilliant green color, that flashed in the glancing light likeliving emerald. Wherever there was a tender young plant there itsfierce attack was directed, and in all cases repelled by the bravelittle guardians.

  This terrible monster--as it appeared even in Terry's eyes, whencompared with the tiny creatures that surrounded him--seemed to havesingled out the fragile lily-of-the-valley for its especial ferocity,for again and again it darted furiously against the unyieldingdefenders, only, however, to be repulsed at each charge, writhing andtwisting its snaky body, punctured by the thorn-bayonets of thefairy-guard.

  The indomitable courage and resolution of the defence at lengthprevailed, and after a last ineffectual effort to break through thechevaux-de-frise that protected the beleaguered flower, the dreadfulenemy wheeled angrily two or three times around the spot, and at lengthdarted upwards rapidly, and disappeared, to the manifest delight of thefairies. Soon, however, a yet more formidable danger threatened, for inthe distance there approached a gigantic snail, dragging its noxiousslime over every thing in its destructive path. Terry now observedevidences of the most intense solicitude and perturbation. The guardaround the flower was trebled, scouts seemed to be called in from allquarters, hastening to a common rendezvous. Meantime the snail moved onin a direct line with the object of their care and anxiety.

  "Now my fine fellows," said Terry, completely absorbed in theinteresting scene, "how the mischief are yez goin' to manage thatcustomer?"

  Nearer and nearer crawled the snail, and at every onward movement thelittle crowd grew more agitated, scampering here and there, andoverrunning each other in a perfect agony of apprehension andexcitement, like a disturbed colony of ants. Multitudes of them clearedthe small stumps of decayed grass, and rolled off the pebbles from aside path, in the hope of diverting Mr. Snail's course; but theirengineering skill was fruitless--still on he came, crushing everydelicate germ in his progress. He was now only about six inches awayfrom the lily, and the trepidation of the fairies became so excessive,that it smote upon Terry's heart. He forgot for a moment or two that hehimself was the arbiter of their fate.

  "Mother o' Moses," said he; "it's afeared I am that yez goin' to getthe worst of the fight, this time; heigh! at him agin, yer sowls," heshouted, clapping his hands by way of encouragement, as a crowd wouldtry to push the snail from the direct path.

  "Where's yer sinse, you little blaggards? why don't yez all gettogether, and you'd soon tumble the murdherin' Turk over."

  Despair seemed to be spreading through the fairy ranks, when itsuddenly occurred to Terry that it was in his own power to put an endto their fears at once, by removing the cause; another, and morepersonal idea flashing across his mind at the same time.

  "Why, then, bad 'cess to this thick skull o' mine," said he, as hepicked up the snail and hurled it to a distance. "It well becomes me tobe stickin' here, watchin' the antics of these little ragamuffins,instead of mindin' my own business of threasure-huntin';" so, withoutwaiting to see what effect his timely interference had upon thesupernals, he commenced vigorously to prosecute his search.

  For some time he diligently explored the crevices and deep hollows onthe mountain's side, without finding the slightest indication tostimulate his exertions; one particular opening, however, he was loatheto penetrate; the insects were so numerous therein, and flew sospitefully against his face, that, although it evidently extended tosome distance into the heart of the mountain, again and again he wasdriven from his purpose of ascertaining that fact by the pertinacity ofthe annoying creatures; now, a prodigious horned beetle would bangsharply against his cheek; anon, he would be entirely surrounded by acloud of wasps, through which he had to fight his way lustily.

  Thrice had he entered the cavity, and having been ignominiously drivenback each time, had determined to give up the effort to penetratefurther. "Faix, an' it's mighty quare, entirely," said he, "that thisis the only spot in the place that's so throubled with the varmint:it's my belief there's somethin' in that, too," he continued, a newlight seeming to break upon him; "what should they be here for, morenor at any other openin', unless it was to keep strangers frominthrudin'? May I never, if I don't think that same hole in the rock isthe turnpike-gate to somethin' surprizin' in the way of a fairy road;here goes to thry, anyway, in spite of the singin' and stingin'."

  Once more, therefore, my bold Terry attempted to enter the cavern, andwas attacked as before, but with tenfold fury; legions of stingingflies, wasps, and hornets, raised a horrible din about his ears; but,setting his resolution up to the fearless point, on he went, withoutregarding their unpleasant music; expecting, of course, to be stungdesperately; what was his astonishment and relief to discover that thenoise was the only thing by which he was at all distressed; not one ofhis myriad of assailants even as much as touched him, and before he hadproceeded many steps further into the cavity, every sound had ceased.

  He now found his onward progress most uncomfortably impeded by astubborn species of wild hedge-briar, whose sharp, thorny branchesinterlaced through each other, forming a barrier, whose dangerousappearance was sufficient to deter the boldest from risking alaceration. Not an opening large enough to admit his head, could Terrysee, and he was about again to give the attempt up as unattainable,when, by the merest accident, on turning round, his foot slipped, andwith that inward shudder with which one prepares for an inevitablehurt, he fell against the prickly wall; when, to his utter amazement,it divided on each side as though it were fashioned of smoke, and hetumbled through, somewhat roughly, to be sure, but altogether unharmedby the formidable-looking interposition.

  "By the mortial of war," he cried, rubbing his dilapidated elbow, andlooking round to examine his position, "I'm on the right side of thathedge, any way."

  Now, Terry perceived that the barrier he had just so successfullypassed was slowly regaining its original appearance, and, to hismortification, as it gradually closed up the aperture of the cavern,the light, hitherto quite sufficient for him distinctly to see everyobject, faded away slowly, and finally left him in utter darkness.

  "Bedad, an' a tindher-box an' a sulphur match would be about thegreatest threasure I could light on at this present," said Terry, as hegroped about cautiously, to find some kind of an elevation whereupon hemight sit and wait for luck.

  He had not been many minutes, however, in the blackness, when hisquickened sense becam
e aware of a light, reddish spot, which faintlyglowed at some distance. This was the first sign of an encouragingnature he had experienced, and with a beating heart he proceeded tofeel his way towards the bright indication.

  Getting gradually accustomed to the dimness that surrounded him hesuddenly discovered that he was opposed by a solid wall of rock, in thevery centre of which the pale red glimmer still shone, like a star seenthrough a summer mist.

  "The divil a use in my thravellin' any longer in that direction," saidTerry, turning sharply round to retrace his steps, when to hisamazement and consternation he encountered the same rocky barrier.Whichever way he looked all was alike, stern and impassable. He wasenclosed within a stony wall, whose circumference was but little morethan an arm's length, but whose height was lost in the unsearchabledarkness.

  "Musha, then, how the divil did I stumble into this man-thrap?" criedTerry, in consternation. "There's no way out that I can see, an' wherethe mischief the top of it is, is beyant my comprehendin'. Bedad,there's nothing for it but to thry an' climb up." So saying, Terryplaced his foot upon what he supposed, in the uncertain light, was abold projection of the rock, when down he stepped through it, andbefore he could recover his perpendicular, his body was half buried inthe apparent wall.

  "Be jabers, if it ain't more of their thricks--the never a rock'sthere, no more nor the briars was; they may make fools of my eyes, butthey can't of my fingers, an' its thim I'll thrust to in future," saidhe; and so, keeping the light in view, he boldly dashed through all theseeming obstacles, and soon found himself once more in an open space.It was a kind of vaulted tunnel that he was now traversing, his onwardpath still in profound darkness, with the sole exception of the redlight, which Terry imagined grew larger and more distinct, each step hetook. A rush of warm air every now and then swept by him, and his treadechoed in the far distance, giving an idea of immense length.

  Somewhat assured by the impunity with which he had already explored theenchanted districts, he was beginning to pick his way with freerbreath, when his ears were smitten by a sound which sank his heartstill deeper. It was the loud and furious barking of a pack ofevidently most ferocious dogs, which approached rapidly, right in hispath. On came the savage animals, louder and louder grew their terriblebark, and Terry gave himself up for lost in good earnest. It was no useto turn about and run, although that was his first impulse; so,flinging himself down on the ground, he awaited the attack of hisunseen foes. He could now hear the clatter of their enormous paws,while their growlings echoed through the cavern like thunder.

  "Murdher an' nouns, there's a half a hundred of them, I know there is;an' it's mince-meat they'll make of me in less than no time," criedTerry, mumbling all the prayers he could remember, and in anotherinstant, with a tremendous roar, they were upon him, and, with stunningyells, swept over him as he lay; but not an atom did he feel, no morethan if a cloud had passed across.

  "If they're not at it again, the blaggards," said he, getting up, andshaking himself; "the divil a dog was there in the place atall--nothin' but mouth--but, by dad, there's enough of that to frightenthe sowl out of a narvous Christian;" and once more the bold Piperstarted in pursuit of the coveted light. He had not proceeded very far,before he heard the distant bellowing of a bull; but, warned by hispast experience, he shut his ears against the sound, and although itincreased fearfully, as though some mad herd were tearing down uponhim, he courageously kept on. To be sure, his breath stopped for amoment, and his pulse ceased to beat, when the thing seemed to approachhis vicinity, but, as he anticipated, the terror fled by him as hestood up erect, with the sensation, only, of a passing breeze.

  Terry received no further molestation, but plodded along quietly untilhe came right up to the place from whence the light proceeded which hadhitherto guided him, and here a most gorgeous sight presented itself tohis enraptured gaze.

  Within a luminous opening of the cave he saw groups of living atomies,all busied in the formation of the various gems for which the rich onesof the world hunger. In one compartment were the diamond-makers; inanother, those who, when finished, coated them over with the roughexterior which they hoped would prevent them from being distinguishedfrom common pebbles. Here was a tiny multitude, fashioning emeralds ofastonishing magnitude; there, a crowd of industrious elves, putting thelast sparkle into some magnificent rubies.

  With staring eyes, and mouth all agape with wonder and delight, Terrywatched the curious process for a few moments, scarcely breathingaudibly for fear of breaking the brilliant spell. What to do he did notknow. Heaps of the coveted jewels lay around within his very grasp, yethow to possess himself, without danger, of a few handfuls, he couldn'timagine.

  At last, resolving to make one final effort to enrich himself, hesuddenly plunged his hand into the glittering mass of diamonds,presuming they were the most valuable, and, clutching a quantity,thrust them into his pocket, intending to repeat the operation until hehad sufficient; but the instant that he did so, the entire cavern wasrent asunder as with the force of an earthquake, the solid rock openedbeneath him with a deafening explosion, and he was shot upwards as fromthe mouth of a cannon--up--up through the rifted cave, and miles highinto the air. Not a whit injured did he feel from the concussion,saving a sense of lightness, as though he was as empty as a blownbladder. So high did he go in his aerial flight, that he plainly sawto-morrow's sun lighting up the lakes and fields of other latitudes. Assoon as he had reached an altitude commensurate with the power of theexplosive agency, he turned over and commenced his downward progress,and, to his great relief, found that his fall was by no means as rapidas he had anticipated--for his consciousness had not for a moment lefthim; on the contrary, the buoyant air supported him without difficulty,and each random gust of wind tossed him about like a feather. Well, daycame, and shone, and vanished; so did the evening, and the starrynight, and early morning, before Terry had completed his easy descent;when at length he touched the earth, gently as a falling leaf, andfound himself lying beside the very stone from whence he had departedon his late exploration. The marks of the recent terrible convulsionwere visible, however, for the vast mountain was gone, and in its placea deep, round chasm, filled to over-flowing with a dark yellow liquid,that hissed and bubbled into flame like a Tartarian lake. The rocksaround him, that before had shone so resplendently, were now blackenedand calcined--the lovely vegetation blasted--the paradise a desert.

  "Athin, may-be, I haven't been kickin' up the divil's delightshereabouts," said Terry, as he looked round at the desolation. "Butnever a hair I care; haven't I got a pocket-full of big di'minds, an'won't they set me up anyway?" he continued, drawing forth the preciouscontents of his pocket, and placing them on the rock by his side; when,to his infinite mortification, the entire collection turned out to benothing but worthless pebbles.

  "Musha! thin, may bad luck attend yez for a set of schemin' vagabones;an' afther all my throuble it's done again I am," he cried, in a rage,emptying his pocket, and flinging away its contents in thoroughdisgust. "Hollo! what's this?" he cried, with a start, as he drew forththe last handful; "may I never ate bread if I haven't tuk one of thechaps prisoner, an' if it isn't a Leprechaun I'm not alive;" and sureenough there, lying in the palm of his hand, was as queer a lookingspecimen of fairyhood as ever the eye looked upon.

  The little bit of a creature had the appearance of an old man, withwrinkled skin and withered features. It was dressed, too, in thecostume of a by-gone age. A mite of a velvet coat covered its morsel ofa back; a pair of velvet breeches, together with white silk stockings,and little red-heeled shoes, adorned its diminutive legs, which lookedas if they might have belonged to a rather fat spider, and a stiffwhite wig, duly pomatumed and powdered, surmounted by a three-corneredhat, bedecked its head.

  The leprechaun seemed to be in a state of insensibility, as Terryexamined minutely its old-fashioned appearance. "It's just as I'veheard tell of 'em," he cried, in glee; "cocked hat, an' breeches, an'buckles, an' all. Hurroo! I'm a made man if he ever comes t
o." Withthat, Terry breathed gently on the little fellow as he lay in his hand,as one would to resuscitate a drowned fly.

  "I wondher if he'd have any relish for wather--here goes to thry," saidTerry, plucking a buttercup flower, in whose cavity a drop of dew hadrested, and holding it to the lips of the leprechaun, "Oh, murdher! ifI only had a taste of whisky to qualify it; if that wouldn't bring thelife into an Irish fairy, nothing would. Ha! he's openin' his bit of aneye, by dad; here, suck this, yer sowl to glory," Terry continued, andwas soon gratified by seeing the leprechaun begin to imbibe thecontents of the buttercup with intense avidity.

  "I hope you're betther, sir," said Terry, politely.

  "Not the betther for you, Mr. Terry Magra," replied the fairy, "thoughI'm obleeged to you for the drop o' drink."

  "Indeed, an' yer welcome, sir," Terry went on, "an' more betoken, it'smighty sorry I am to have gev you any oneasiness."

  "That's the last lie you towld, Mr. Terry, and you know it," theleprechaun answered, tartly, "when your heart is fairly leapin' in yourbody because you've had the luck to lay a howld of me."

  "Well, an' can't a fella be glad at his own luck, an' yet sorry ifanybody else is hurted by it," said Terry, apologetically.

  "You can't humbug me, you covetious blaggard," the fairy went on. "ButI'll thry you, anyway--now listen to me. The fairies that you have justbeen so wicked as to inthrude your unwelcome presence upon, were allleprechauns like myself--immortal essences, whose duty it was to makeand guard the treasures, that you saw in spite of all the terrors thatwe employed to frighten you away. So long as they were unobserved bymortal eyes, our existence was a bright and glorious one; but, onceseen, we are obliged to abandon our fairy life and shape, take thisdegrading form, and work at a degrading occupation, subject to theailments and mishaps of frail humanity, and forced to live in constantfear of your insatiate species. Now, the only chance I have to regainthe blissful immortality I have lost, is for you to be magnanimousenough to relinquish the good fortune you anticipate from my capture.Set me unconditionally free, and I can revel once more in my forfeitedfairy existence--persevere in your ungenerous advantage, and I amcondemned to wander a wretched out-cast through the world--now, what isyour determination?"

  Terry's better feelings prompted him at first to let the littlecreature go, but love of lucre got the upper hand, and after a slightpause of irresolution, he replied:

  "Indeed, an' it's heart sick that I am to act so conthrary, but I'llleave it to yerself if it ain't agin nature for a man to fling away hisluck. Shoemakin' is an iligant amusement, an' profitable; you'll soonget mighty fond of it; so, I'm afeard I'll have to throuble you to dosomethin' for me."

  "I thought how it would be; you're all alike," said the fairy, sadly;"selfish to the heart's core. Well, what do you want? I'm in yourpower, and must fulfill your desire."

  "Long life to you; now ye talk sense," cried Terry, elated. "Sure Iwon't be hard on you--a thrifle of money is all I wish for in theworld, for everything else will follow that."

  "More, perhaps, than you imagine--cares and anxieties," said theleprechaun.

  "I'll risk all them," replied Terry; "come, now, I'll tell you what youmay do for me. Let me find a shillin' in my pocket every time I put myfist into it, an' I'll be satisfied."

  "Enough! it's a bargain; and now that you have made your wish, all yourpower over me is gone," said the leprechaun, springing out of his handlike a grasshopper, and lighting on the branch beside him; "it's apurty sort of a fool you are," it continued, with a chuckle, "when thethreasures of the universe were yours for the desire, to be contentedwith a pitiful pocket-full of shillin's! ho! ho!" and the little thinglaughed like a cornkrake at the discomfited Terry.

  "Musha! then, may bad cess to me if I don't crush the fun out of yourcattherpillar of a carcass if I ketch a howlt of you," said Terry,savagely griping at the fairy; but, with another spring, it jumped intothe brushwood, and disappeared.

  Terry's first impulse was to dive his hand into his pocket to see ifthe leprechaun had kept his word, and to his great delight, there hefound, sure enough, a fine bright new shilling. At this discovery hisjoy knew no bounds. He jumped and hallooed aloud, amusing himselfflinging away shilling after shilling, merely on purpose to test thecontinuance of the supply. He was satisfied. It was inexhaustible, andbright dreams of a splendid future flitted before his excitedimagination.

  With a heart full of happiness, Terry now wended his way homeward,busying himself, as he went along, in conveying shilling after shillingfrom one pocket into the other, until he filled it up to thebutton-hole. On arriving at the village, he met a few of his oldcompanions, but so altered that he could scarcely recognize them, whilethey stared at him as though he were a spectre.

  "Keep us from harm," said one, "if here ain't Terry Magra come back."

  "Back," cried Terry, with a merry laugh, "why, man alive, I've neverbeen away."

  "Never away, indeed, and the hair of you as white as the dhriven snow,that was as brown as a beetle's back, whin you left," said the other.

  It then struck Terry that his friends in their turn had agedconsiderably. The youngest that he remembered had become bent andwrinkled. "The saints be good to us," he cried, "but this is mightyquare entirely. How long is it sence I've seen yez, boys?" he inquiredeagerly.

  "How long is it? why, a matther of twenty years or so," said one of thebystanders; "don't you know it is?"

  "Faith, an' I didn't until this blessed minute," said Terry. "Have Igrown ould onbeknownst to myself, I wondher?"

  "Bedad, an' it's an easy time you must have had sence you've beenaway," said another; "not all as one as some of us."

  "Well, won't you come an' taste a sup, for gra' we met?" said Terry,beginning to feel rather uneasy at the singular turn things had taken;but they shook their heads, and, without any other observation, passedon, leaving him standing alone.

  "Stop!" he cried, "wait a bit; it's lashin's of money that Ihave--here--look;" and he drew forth a handful of the silver. It was nouse, however. All their old cordiality and love of fun were gone; offthey went, without even a glance behind them.

  "Twenty years," said Terry to himself. "Oh, they're makin' fun of me. Idon't feel a bit oulder nor I was yestherday. I'll soon be easy on thatpoint, anyway." So he proceeded towards the old drinking-place, that hehad so often spent the night in, but not an atom of it could he find.In the place where he expected to see it, there was a bran new house.He entered it, however, and going straight up to a looking-glass whichstood in the room, was amazed on seeing reflected therein an apparitionhe could not recognize, so withered and wrinkled did it appear, and soaltogether unlike what he anticipated, that he turned sharply around inthe hope of finding some aged individual looking over his shoulder; buthe was entirely alone--it was his own reflection, and no mistake at allabout it.

  "By the powers of war, but my journey into the mountains hasn'timproved my personal appearance," said he. "It's easy to see that; but,never mind, I've got the money, an' that'll comfort me;" and he jingledthe shillings in his pocket as if he could never weary of the sound.

  In a short time the fame of Terry's wealth spread abroad, and as it mayreadily be imagined, he didn't long want companions. The gay and thedissolute flocked round him, and as he had a welcome smile and aliberal hand for everybody, the hours flew by, carrying uproariousjollity on their wings, and notwithstanding his infirmities of body,Terry was as happy as the days were long.

  Now, while he had only to provide for his own immediate wants, andsettle the whisky scores of his riotous friends, he had easy work ofit. It was only to keep putting his hand into his pocket two or threedozen times a day, and there was more than sufficient. But this kind ofexistence soon began to grow monotonous, and Terry sighed for the moreenviable pleasures of a domestic life, and inasmuch as it was now wellunderstood that Terry was an "eligible party," he had no greatdifficulty in making a selection. Many of the "down hill" spinstersgave evident indications that they would be nothing lo
th to take himfor better or for worse; and--I'm sorry to have to record the fact--nota few even of the more youthful maidens set their curls at the quondampiper. Neither his age, nor the doubtful source of his revenue,rendering him an unmarketable commodity in the shambles of Hymen.

  In process of time, Terry wooed and won a demure-looking little_collieen_, and after having shut himself up for two or threedays, accumulating money enough for the interesting and expensiveceremony, was duly bound to her for life. Now, it was that hisinexhaustible pocket began to be overhauled continuously, and Terrycursed his imprudence in not asking for guineas instead of shillings.Mrs. Terry Magra possessed a somewhat ambitious desire to outvie herneighbors. Silk dresses were in demand and shawls and bonnets by thecart-load. The constant employment gave Terry the rheumatism in hismuscles, until at last it was with the greatest difficulty he couldforce his hand into his pocket.

  Before many months had elapsed, Terry was prostrated upon a sick bed,his side--the pocket-side--completely paralyzed, and as he was not oneof those who lay by for a rainy day, his inability to apply to hisfairy exchequer caused him to suffer the greatest privation--and wherewere the boon companions of his joyous hours, now? Vanished--not one ofthem to be seen--but haply fluttering around some new favorite offortune, to be in his turn fooled, flattered, and when the dark daycame--deserted.

  When Terry grew better in health, which he did very slowly, there was aconsiderable back-way to make up, and the best part of his time wasoccupied in the mere mechanical labor of bringing out his shillings.Mrs. Magra also became more and more exacting, and the care-worn piperbegan to acknowledge to himself that, his good fortune was not at allcomparable with the anxiety and annoyance it had produced. Again andagain he deplored the chance which had placed the temptation in hisway, and most especially blamed his own selfish greed, which preventedhim from behaving with proper generosity toward the capturedleprechaun.

  "He towld me plain enough what would come of it," cried he, one day,as, utterly exhausted, he threw himself on the floor, after many hoursapplication to the indispensable pocket; "he towld me that it wouldbring care and misery, an' yet I wasn't satisfied to profit by thewarning. Here am I, without a single hour of comfort, everybodydhraggin' at me for money, money! an' the very sinews of me fairly woreout wid divin' for it. This sort of life ain't worth livin' for."

  Before long, Terry's necessities increased to such a degree, that outof the twenty-four hours of the day and night, more than two-thirdswere taken up with the now terrible drudgery by which they were to besupplied. No time had he left for relaxation--hardly for sleep. Thethought of to-morrow's toil weighed on his heart, and kept him fromrest. He was thoroughly miserable. It was in vain that he called upondeath to put an end to him and his wretchedness together; there was noescape for him, even, by that dark road; the fear of a worse hereafter,made imminent by the consciousness of an ill-spent life, kept him fromopening the eternal gate himself, to which he was often sorely tempted.

  To this great despondency succeeded a course of reckless dissipationand drunkenness. Homeless at last, he wandered from one drinking-shopto another, caring nothing for the lamentable destitution in which hisfamily was steeped; for, as is usually the case, the poorer he becamethe more his family increased. His deserted wife and starving littleones were forced to obtain a scanty subsistence through the degradingmeans of beggary. He himself never applied to his fairy resource unlessto furnish sufficient of the scorching liquor as would completely drownall sense of circumstance. The slightest approach to sobriety onlybrought with it reflection, and reflection was madness. So, the veryworst amongst the worst, in rags and filth, he staggered about thevillage, a mark of scorn and contempt to every passer-by, or else proneupon some congenial heap of garbage, slept off the fierceness of hisintoxication, to be again renewed the instant consciousness returned.

  With that extraordinary tenacity of life indicative of an originallyfine constitution, which, added to a naturally powerful frame of body,might have prolonged his years even beyond the allotted space, Terrycrept on in this worse than brutal state of existence for many months,until at last, one morning, after a drinking bout of more than usualexcess, he was found lying in a stable to which he had crawled forshelter, insensible, and seemingly dead. Perceiving, however, someslight signs of animation yet remaining, his discoverers carried him tothe public hospital, for home he had none, and his own misdeeds hadestranged the affections, and closed the heart against him of her whoseinclination as well as duty would have brought her quickly to his side,had he but regarded and cherished the great God-gift to man--a woman'slove, and not cast it aside as a worthless thing.

  Tended and cared for, however, although by stranger hands, Terryhovered a long time betwixt life and death, until at length skill andattention triumphed over the assailant, and he was restored tocomparative health.

  It was then, during the long solitary hours of his convalescence, whenthe mind was restored to thorough consciousness, but the frame yet tooweak for him to quit his bed, that the recollection of his wastedexistence stood spectre-like before his mental vision. Home destroyed,wife and children abandoned, friendships sundered, and himself broughtto the brink of a dreaded eternity, and all through the means he had soeagerly coveted, and by which he had expected to revel in all theworld's joys.

  He prayed, in the earnest sincerity of awakened repentance; he prayedfor Heaven's assistance to enable him to return to the straight path.

  "Oh! if I once get out of this," he cried, while drops of agony bedewedhis face, "I'll make amends during the brief time yet left me--I will,I will. Come what may, never again will I be beholdin' to that fearfulgift. I now find to my great cost that wealth, not properly come by, isa curse and not a blessing. I'll work, with the help of the good Godand his bright angels, an' may-be peace will once more visit mytortured heart."

  It was some time before he was able to leave his bed, but when at lasthe was pronounced convalescent, he quitted the hospital, with the firmdetermination never again, under any circumstance whatsoever, even toplace his hand within the pocket from whence he had hitherto drawn hisresources. As a further security against the probability of temptation,he took a strong needle and thread, and sewed up the opening tightly.

  "There," he cried, with an accent of relief, "bad luck to the toe of mecan get in there now. Oh! how I wish to gracious it had always been so,and I wouldn't be the miserable, homeless, houseless, wife andchildless vagabone that I am at this minnit."

  As he was debating in his own mind what he should turn to in order toobtain a living--for so great a disgust had he taken to the pipes, towhich he attributed all his wretchedness, that he had determined togive up his productive but precarious profession of piper, andabandoning the dissolute crowd who rejoiced in his performances, betakehimself to some more useful and reputable employment--it suddenlyoccurred to him to visit the scene of his fairy adventure, in the hopethat he might get rid of the dangerous gift his cupidity had obtainedfor him.

  No sooner had he conceived the idea than he instantly set forward toput it in execution. The night was favorable for his purpose, and hearrived at the identical place in the mountain, without the slightestinterruption or accident. He found it just as he had left it, a sceneof the wildest desolation. No sound fell on his ear save the mournfulshrieking of the wind as it tore itself against the harsh branches ofthe dead pine trees. He climbed the rugged side of the hill and lookedinto the black lake that filled the dark chasm at its summit. It seemedto be as solid as a sheet of lead. He flung a pebble into the gulf; itwas eagerly sucked up, and sunk without a ripple, as though droppedinto a mass of burning pitch. One heavy bubble swelled to the surface,broke into a sullen flame that flashed lazily for an instant, and thenwent out. A small, but intensely black puff of smoke rose above thespot; so dense was the diminutive cloud that it was rejected by theshadowy atmosphere, which refused to receive it within its bosom.Reluctantly it seemed to hang upon the surface of the lake, then slowlymounted, careering backw
ards and forwards with each passing breeze.

  The singular phenomenon attracted Terry's attention, and he watched,with increasing interest, the gyrations of the cloud, until at lengthit took a steady direction towards the spot where he stood. It was notlong before it floated up to him, and he stepped aside to let it passby, but as he moved, so did the ball of smoke. He stooped, and itfollowed his movement; he turned and ran--just as swiftly it sped withhim. He now saw there was something supernatural in it, and his heartbeat with apprehension.

  "There's no use in kickin' agin fate," he said, "so, with a blessin',I'll just stop where I am, an' see what will come of it; worse off Ican't be, an' that's a comfort any way."

  So saying, Terry stood still, and patiently waited the result. To hisgreat surprise the cloud of smoke, after making the circuit of his headtwo or three times, settled on his right shoulder, and on casting hiseye round, he perceived that it had changed into a living form, butstill as black as a coal.

  "Bedad I'm among them agin, sure enough," said Terry, now much moreeasy in his mind; "I wondher who this little divil is that's roostin'so comfortably on my showldher."

  "Wondher no longer, Misther Terry Magra," grunted a frog-like voiceinto his ear; "by what magic means, oh! presumptuous mortal, did youdiscover the charmed stone which compelled the spirit of yondersulphurous lake to quit his warm quarters, thus to shiver in theuncongenial air? Of all the myriad pebbles that are scattered around,that was the only one which possessed the power to call me forth."

  "Faix, an' it was a lucky chance that made me stumble on it, sir," saidTerry.

  "That's as it may turn out," replied the spirit. "Do you know who andwhat I am? but why should you, ignorant creature as you are? Listen,and be enlightened. I am the chief guardian of yon bituminous prison,within whose murky depths lie groaning all of fairy kind, who have bytheir imprudence forfeited their brilliant station.

  "You don't tell me that, sir? By goxty, an' I wouldn't like to changeplaces with them," said Terry, with a great effort at familiarity.

  "There's no knowing when you may share their fate," replied the spirit."The soul of many an unhappy mortal, who has abused a fairy-gift, liesthere, as well."

  Terry shivered to his very marrow as he heard those words, for fullwell he knew, that amongst all such, none deserved punishment more thanhe; he was only wondering how his immortal part could be extracted fromits living tenement, when, as though the spirit knew his very thoughts,it uttered:

  "I have but to breathe within your ear a word of power, and with thatword the current of your life would cease."

  Terry instinctively stretched his neck to its fullest extent, as hesaid to himself, "I'll keep my lug out of your reach if I can, my boy."But the spirit either knew his thought or guessed it from the movement.

  "Foolish piper," it said, "I could reach it did I so incline, were itas high as Cashel Tower." And to prove that the assertion was not amere boast, the little fellow made a jump, and perched upon the bridgeof Terry's nose, and sat there astride; and as it was of the_retrousse_ order, a very comfortable seat it had; light as afeather, it rested there, peering alternately into each of Terry'seyes, who squinted at the intruder, brimful of awe and amazement.

  "I give in," said he. "It's less nor nothin' that I am in your hands;but if it's just as convainient for you, I'd be much obliged to you ifyou'd lave that, for its fairly tearin' the eyes out of me head thatyou are, while I'm thryin' to look straight at you."

  "It's all the same to me entirely," replied the spirit; "and now thatyou have come to a full sense of my power, I'll take up my position ata more agreeable distance."

  So saying, the spirit bounded off of Terry's nose, and alighted on abranch of the same tree on which the legion of little pipers had beforeassembled, while Terry wiped his relieved eyes with the sleeve of hiscoat, and sat upon the piece of rock that stood beside.

  "And now, Masther Magra," said the spirit, "we'll proceed to business.Had you picked up any other stone but the one you did, or had yourefrained from obstructing the lake in any way, your soul would havebeen mine for ever. You see what a small chance you had. But inasmuchas your good luck pointed out the talismanic pebble, you have yet theprivilege of making another wish which I must gratify whatsoever it maybe; think well, however, ere you ask it; let no scruples bound yourdesires. The wealth of the world is in my distribution."

  Terry's nerves thrilled again, as his mind conjured up images ofpurchased delights. But for an instant only did he hesitate what coursehe should pursue.

  "The temptation is wonderful," said he. "But no: I've endured enough ofmisery from what I've had already."

  "What can I do for you?" said the spirit, sharply. "Don't keep a poordevil all night in the cold."

  "Well, then, sir, I'll tell you," replied the other. "I suppose youknow already--for you seem to be mighty knowledgeable--that some yearsback I kotch a leprechaun on this very spot; and though he towld methat it would be the desthroyin' of him out an' out, I meanly chose tomake myself rich, as I thought, by taking a fairy-gift from him, ratherthan lettin' him go free an' unharmed. It was a dirty an' selfishthransaction on my part, an' it's with salt tears that I've repinted ofthat same. Now, if that leprechaun is sufferin' on my account, and youcan give the creather any comfort, it's my wish that you'll manage itfor me--ay, even though I was to bear his punishment myself."

  "You have spoken well and wisely," said the spirit; "and your rewardwill be beyond your hope."

  Simultaneously with those words, Terry was still more astonished atbeholding a gradual but complete change taking place in theneighborhood: the blasted trees shot forth fresh branches, thebranches, in their turn, pushed out new leaves, thick verdureoverspread the rugged sides of the mountain; while gushing joyouslyfrom an adjacent hollow, a little rill danced merrily through theshining pebbles, singing its song of gratitude, as though exulting inthe new-found liberty; unnumbered birds began to fill the air withtheir delicious melody, the rifted and calcined rocks concealed theircharred fronts beneath festoons of flowering parasites, the murky lakesank slowly into the abyss, while in its place a tufted, daisy-spangledfield appeared, to which the meadow-lark descended lovingly, andfluttering a short space amidst the dewy grass, sprang up again, withloud, reverberating note.

  The primeval change, when the beautiful new world emerged from chaos,was not more glorious than was the aspect now presented to the raptbeholder. He felt within himself the exhilarating effect of all thisvast and unexpected wonder, the free, fresh blood cast off itssluggishness, and once more bounded through his veins, the flush ofvigor and excitement bedewed his brow, the flaccid muscles hardenedinto renewed strength, elasticity and suppleness pervaded every limb,stiffened and racked ere-while with keen rheumatic pains; it was not,however, until attracted by the pure limpid stream that filtered into asandy hollow near him, he stooped down to carry the refreshing draughtup to his lips, that he was aware of the greatest change of all; for,instead of the sunken cheeks and wrinkled brow, the bloodshot eyes andthin, grey hairs that he had brought with him, the ruddy,health-embrowned and joy-lit features of years long gone, laughed up athim from the glassy surface.

  And now a merry little chuckle tinkled in his ear, and on lookingaround, he discovered that the black spirit had vanished, and in itsplace sat the identical leprechaun, about whose melancholy fate he wasso concerned.

  "By the piper that played before Moses, but it's glad I am to see youonce more, my haro; have they let you out?" inquired Terry, withconsiderable anxiety.

  "I have never been imprisoned," replied the little fellow, gaily.

  "Why, then, _tear an nounthers_," said Terry. "You haven't beengostherin' me all the time, an' the heart of me fairly burstin' wid thethought of them weeshee gams of yours strikin' out among the pitch thatwas beyant."

  "It was that very feeling of humanity, which I knew yet lingered inyour heart, that saved you," replied the leprechaun.

  "As how, sir, might I ax?"

  "How long is it s
ince you saw me before?"

  "Don't mention it," cried Terry, with an abashed look, "a wearylife-time a'most has passed since then."

  "And _what_ a life-time," observed the leprechaun, reproachfully.

  "Indeed, an' you may say that," replied the other. "There's no oneknows betther nor I do how sinfully that life was wasted, how uselessit has been to me an' to every one else, how foolishly I flung away themeans that might have comforted those who looked up to me, amongheartless, conscienceless vagabones, who laughed at me while I fedtheir brutish appetites, and fled from me as though I were infectiouswhen ill-health and poverty fell upon my head."

  "Then the fairy gift did not bring you happiness?"

  "Happiness!" replied Terry, with a groan, "it changed me from a maninto a beast, it brought distress and misery upon those nearest anddearest to me, it made my whole worldly existence one continuedreproach, and God help me, I'm afeared it has shut the gates of heavenagainst my sowl hereafter."

  "Then I suppose you have the grace to be sorry this time that youdidn't behave more generously in my case," said the fairy.

  "True darlin'; if I wasn't, I wouldn't be here now," replied Terry. "Itwas to thry and find you out that I took this journey, an' a sore oneit is to a man wid the weight of years that's on my back."

  "Oh, I forgot that you were such an ould creather intirely," said thelittle fellow, with a merry whistle, "but what the mischief makes youbend your back into an _apperciand_, and hide your ears on yourshowlders, as if the cowld was bitin' them."

  "Faix, an' it's just because I'm afeered to sthraighten myself out,that murdherin thief rheumatism has screwed the muscles of my back sotight."

  "You can't stand up then, eh Terry?"

  "Not for this many a long day, sir, more is the pity," replied theother, with a heavy sigh.

  "You don't tell me that," said the leprechaun, with a queer expressionof sympathy. "There could be no harm thryin', any way."

  "If I thought there would be any use in it, it's only too glad that I'dbe," said Terry.

  "There's no knowin' what a man can do, until he makes the effort."

  Encouraged by these words, Terry commenced very gingerly to lift hishead from its long sunken position; to his infinite delight he foundthe movement unaccompanied by the slightest twinge, and so, with aheart brim full of overflowing joy, he drew himself up to his fullheight without an ache or a pain; tall, muscular, and as straight as atailor's yard.

  The hurroo! that Terry sent forth from his invigorated lungs, when hefelt the entire consciousness of his return to youth and its attendantfreshness and strength, startled the echoes of the mountain, like thescream of a grey eagle.

  "And now, Misther Terry Magra," said the leprechaun, "I may as welltell you the exact period of time that has transpired since I first hadthe pleasure of a conversation with you; it is now exactly, by mywatch," and he pulled out a mite of a time-keeper from hisfob--"there's nothing like being particular in matters ofchronology--jist fourteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds, or to be moreexplicit, in another minute it will be precisely a quarter of an hour."

  "Oh, murdher alive, only to think!" cried Terry, gasping for breath."An' the wife an' childher, and the drunkenness and misery I scatteredaround me."

  "Served but to show you, as in a vision, the sure consequences whichwould have resulted had you really been in possession of the covetedgift you merely dreamed that you had obtained; the life of wretchednesswhich you passed through, in so short a space of time, is but one ofmany equally unfortunate, some leading even to a more terrible close.There are a few, however, I am bound to say, on whom earthly joys_appear_ to shed a constant ray; but we, to whom their inmost thoughtsare open as the gates of morning to the sun, know that those verythoughts are black as everlasting night."

  "What say you now, Terry? Will you generously give up your power overme, and by leading a life of industry and temperance, insure for youand yours contentment, happiness, and comfort, or will you, to thequelling of my fairy existence and its boundless joys, risk thepossession of so dangerous though dazzling a gift as I am compelled tobestow upon you, should you insist on my compliance with such a wish?"

  It must be confessed that Terry's heart swelled again at the renewedprospect of sudden wealth, and inasmuch as he exhibited, by the puzzledexpression of his countenance, the hidden thoughts that swayed,alternately, his good and evil impulses, the leprechaun continued--

  "Take time to consider--do nothing rashly; but weigh well theconsequences of each line of conduct, before you decide irrevocably andfor ever."

  "More power to you for givin' me that chance, any way," said Terry. "Itwouldn't take me long to make my mind up, if it wasn't for what I'vegone through; but, 'the burnt child,' you know, 'keeps away from thefire.' Might I ax, sir, how far you could go in the way of money? for,av I incline that way at all, bedad it won't be a peddlin' shillin'that I'll be satisfied with."

  "Do you know Squire Moriarty?" said the fairy.

  "Is it Black Pether? who doesn't know the dirty thief of the world?Why, ould Bluebeard was a suckin' babby compared to him, in the regardof cruelty."

  "How rich is he?"

  "Be gorra, an' they say there's no countin' it, it's so thremendous.Isn't he the gripinest an' most stony-hearted landlord in the barony,as many a poor farmer knows, when rent day's to the fore?" said Terry.

  "And how did he get his money?" inquired the leprechaun.

  "Indeed, an' I b'lieve there's no tellin' exactly. Some says this way,an' others that. I've heard say that he was a slave marchint early inlife, or a pirate, or something aiqually ginteel an' profitable,"replied Terry.

  "They lie, all of them," the little fellow went on. "He got it as youdid yours, by a fairy gift, and see what it has made of him. In hisearly days, there was not a finer-hearted fellow to be found anywhere;everybody liked, courted, and loved him."

  "That's thrue enough," said Terry, "and now there ain't a dog on hisestates will wag a tail at him."

  "Well, you may be as rich as he is, if you like, Terry," said thefairy.

  "May I?" cried Terry, his eyes flashing fire at the idea.

  "He turned his poor old mother out of doors, the other day," observedthe leprechaun, quietly.

  Terry's bright thoughts vanished in an instant, and indignation tooktheir place; for filial reverence is the first of Irish virtues. "Themurdherin' Turk!" he exclaimed, angrily, "if I had a howld of him now,I'd squeeze the sowl out of his vagabone carcass, for disgracin' thecounthry that's cursed with such an unnatural reprobate."

  "It was the money that made him do it," said the fairy.

  "You don't tell me that, sir!"

  "Indeed but I do, Terry. When the love of _that_ takes possessionof a man's heart, there's no room there for any other thought. Thenearest and dearest ties of blood, of friendship, and of kin, areloosed and cast away as worthless things. You have a mother, Terry?"

  "I have, I have; may all good angels guard and keep her out of harm'sway," cried Terry, earnestly, while the large tears gushed forth fromhis eyes. "Don't say another word," he went on, rapidly; "if it wasgoold mines that you could plant under every step I took, or that youcould rain dimonds into my hat, an' there was the smallest chance of myheart's love sthrayin' from her, even the length of a fly's shadow,it's to the divil I'd pitch the whole bilin', soon an' suddent. So youcan keep your grand gifts, an' yer fairy liberty, an' take my blessin'into the bargain, for showin' me the right road."

  "You're right, Terry," said the leprechaun, joyously, "an' I'd be proudto shake hands with you if my fist was big enough. You have withstoodtemptation manfully, and sufficiently proved the kindliness of yourdisposition. I know that this night's experience will not be lost onyou, but that you will henceforth abandon the wild companionship in themidst of which you have hitherto wasted time and energy, forgetful ofthe great record yet to come, when each misused moment will standregistered against you."

  "And now, Terry," he continued, "I'll leave you to take a little
rest;after all you have gone through you must sorely need it." So saying,the leprechaun waved a slip of osier across Terry's eyelids, when theyinstantly closed with a snap, down he dropped all of a heap upon thespringy moss, and slept as solid as a toad in a rock.

  When Terry awoke, the morning was far advanced, and the sun was shiningfull in his face, so that the first impression that filled his mindwas, that he was gazing upon a world of fire. He soon mastered thatthought, however, and then, sitting down upon the famous stone, beganto collect his somewhat entangled faculties into an intelligible focus.Slowly the events of the night passed before him; the locality of eachphase in his adventures was plainly distinguishable from where he sat.There, close to him, was the identical branch on which had perched thelegion of little pipers; a short distance from him was the mazy hollowthrough which he had so singularly forced his way; half hoping to findsome evidence of the apparently vivid facts that he had witnessed, heput his hand into his breeches pocket, but only fished out a piece ofpig-tail tobacco.

  As he ran over every well-remembered circumstance, he became still morepuzzled. It was clear enough that he had been asleep, as he had butjust woke up; but then he was equally certain that he was wide awakewhen the leprechaun touched his eyelids with the osier. Indeed, helooked round in the expectation of seeing it lying somewhere about; butthere was no trace of such a thing.

  The conclusion he came to was a characteristic one. "By the mortial,"said he, as, taking up his pipes, he sauntered down the mountain-road,"there's somethin' quare in it, sure enough; but it's beyant mycomprehendin'. The divil a use is there in botherin' my brains aboutit; all I know is, that there's a mighty extensive hive o' bees singin'songs inside of my hat this blessed mornin'. I must put some whisky inan' drownd out the noisy varmints."

  The chronicler of this veracious history regrets exceedingly that hecannot, with any regard to the strict truth, bring it to a conclusionin the usual moral-pointing style, except in its general tendency,which he humbly considers to be wholesome and suggestive; but the heroof the tale--the good-for-nothing, wild roysterer, Terry, who ought, ofcourse, to have profited by the lesson he had received and to havebecome a sober, steady, useful, somewhat bilious, but in every wayrespectable, member of society, dressed in solemn black, and pettedreligiously by extatical elderly ladies, did not assist theconventional denouement in the remotest degree. With grief I amcompelled to record the humiliating fact, that Terry waxed wilder thanever, drank deeper, frolicked longer, and kicked up more promiscuousshindies than before, and invariably wound up the account of his fairyadventures, which in process of time he believed in most implicitly, byexclaiming:

  "What a murdherin' fool I was not to take the money."

  THE END.

  _RACY!!_

  A Basket of Chips.

  BY JOHN BROUGHAM.

  ILLUSTRATED FROM ORIGINAL DESIGNS BY McLENAN.

  _One 12mo. volume, 408 pages. Price $1 25._

  A collection of Mr. Brougham's brilliant and characteristicproductions. It is admitted to be one of the most delightful booksof the year. It is marked by Mr. Brougham's boundless humor, happyfancy, and the peculiar freshness of his style.

  CONTENTS.

  Some Passages in the Life of a Dog.

  The Opera of "La Fille du Regiment,"--done into English.

  Love and Loyalty--an Episode in English History.

  Pauline.

  O'Dearmid's Ride.

  The Coming of Kossuth.

  The Fairies' Warning.

  The Killing of the Shark.

  Every-day Drama.--The Pigeon and the Hawks.

  Kitt Cobb, the Cabman.--A Story of London Life.

  The Phantom Light.--A Tale of Boston.

  Revolt of the Harem.--Simplified.

  Fatality.--A Condensed Novel.

  Dramas of the Day.--Revenge; or, the Medium.

  Ned Geraghty's Luck.

  The Eagle and her Talons.--An Eastern Apologue.

  Peace and War.

  Summer Friends.

  Love's Mission.

  Evenings at our Club.

  Romance and Reality.

  Jasper Leech.--The Man who never had Enough.

  Nightmares:--I. The Lamp Fiend. II. Political Ambition. III. Murder.

  THE BUNSBY PAPERS.--The Opinions and Observations of Jack Bunsby, Skipper, and of Ed'ard Cuttle, Mariner.

  BUNCE & BROTHER, PUBLISHERS. 126 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.

  "The best new novel before the public."--_New York Express_.

  Blanche Dearwood:

  A NEW ROMANCE OF AMERICAN LIFE.

  _One Vol. 12mo., Cloth, $1; Paper, 75 Cents._

  "BLANCHE DEARWOOD is a work of genuine Vigor, full of Passion, of Lifeand Character, and especially a reflection of these, as developed inour midst. It possesses a distinction from our other local novels--thatof a sustained and dignified tone, which if it does not aim at auniform ideality, reaches an elegance and beauty in its materials andfinish quite equal to the best English novels. From the first page tothe end, the interest is graduated with accelerating intensity, and asa delicious Love Story, or as a well-knit Intrigue, skillfully managedwith an intensity of interest, happy conclusion, pleasant descriptionand incident, we are prepared to accord it our vote and sanction, _asthe best new novel before the public_."--_New York Express._

  "The best American novel of the season as far as we have yet seen.The story is full of interest, and the characters are marked withindividuality."--_New York Daily Times._

  "It has the gentleness and delicacy of perception peculiar to thefemale mind, and yet the masculine strength of expression, and vigor ofimagination peculiar to men."--_Sunday Courier._

  "There are few modern tales the perusal of which has given us morepleasure."--_New York Herald._

  BUNCE & BROTHER, PUBLISHERS, 196 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.

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