t isic p. labor
The Baldwin Library
Qm B Uniity
'I I ~II I I-- IB
ELIZABETH W. CHAMPNEY
ILLUSTRATIONS BY FREDERIC DORR STEELE
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
All rights reserved
THE CAXTON PRESS
I. AN IRISH FAIR 7
II. A PIG MARKET 28
III. AT KILLARNEY .51
IV. IN HIDING 72
V. THE FLIGHT 98
VI. BLARNEY CASTLE AND
FATHER MATTHEW 123
VII. THE FINDING OF THE
LUCK PENNY 145
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PADDY AND HIS PIG Frontispiece
A SCENE AT THE FAIR 15
PADDY ON THE STONE WALL. 37
PLAYING CARDS ON THE HEARTH 57
THE GHOST HOUSE.. 85
STARTING OUT FROM THE ROCK OF CASHEL 133
THE RETURN HOME 6
AN IRISH FAIR.
T was at one of
the merriest fairs
ever held in Kil-
larney that Pad-
V. S. dy O'Learey first
saw a learned pig.
It was a wonder-
ful fair entirely, so Paddy thought, even be-
fore he saw the pig, what with the hurling,
where Pat O'Toole "put" the great hammer
a fabulous distance as easily as Paddy could
have tossed a ball; and the dancing to
Phelim McCarthy's fiddle, with all the
pretty girls dressed in their best, their
bright eyes shining and their red cheeks
glowing; and the eatingg! for Paddy had
never seen in all his short and hungry life so
many good things as were set out in the tip-
carts ranged along the main thoroughfare.
There was one drawback to his perfect enjoy-
ment of the last-named attraction. Though
Paddy had walked that morning from the
Desmond estate to the town of Killarney,
a good eight miles, on a scanty breakfast,
and had an appetite whetted to the point of
appreciatifig all of the pies, turnovers, gin-
gerbread, and other dainties displayed, his
mother had provided him with but one penny.
He could only buy one cake of hard ginger-
bread, which resembled an ancient Babylon-
ian tile in its general appearance, and in its
resistance to his eager teeth. Even this was
all too soon devoured and failed to fill an
But Paddy was quite accustomed to going
hungry, and there was so much to amuse him
in the fair that he wandered about quite
happy, listening to the entrancing strains of
Garry Owen, the Bedfordshire hornpipe, or
the jolly peddler, and-feasting his eyes on the
brilliant posters which told of the wonders
to be seen inside the tents. The paintings
which described the accomplishments of a
certain educated pig were particularly al-
AN IRISH FAIR
This extraordinary porker was represented
performing as many feats as Mother Hub-
bard's celebrated dog. He was depicted
clothed in a pair of green trousers, wearing
a rakish cocked hat, and as playing upon an
Irish harp, dancing, reading, drilling as a sol-
dier, standing upon his head, feigning death,
carousing and playing many other laughable
Paddy looked longingly at the privileged
persons who entered the enclosure, but finally
turned away and consoled himself with fit-
ting his eye to a knot-hole in the palings of
the Punch and Judy Theatre, and in watch-
ing all the other varied scenes which passed
before him with such joyous tumult.
There was a quack dentist who blarneyed
people into having their teeth extracted for a
shilling, with or without pain." He wore
a necklace of molars with great fangs, and
added each new and gory trophy to this can-
nibalistic rosary, never caring that his victims
protested with loud howls that their jaws
were "broke entirely."
Perceiving Paddy standing before him with
a fascinated stare, the dentist, in a pause in
his custom, offered to extract one of the boy's
sound teeth for nothing, merely as an exhibi-
tion of his skill.
Paddy declined this generous offer, and
hurried away to watch the thimble-man
swindle the unwary.
"Only tuppence a guess," he would cry.
" Now you see it, and now you don't. Under
which of these thimbles, acushla, have I hid
the pea? You guess right, and I gives you
tuppence. You guess wrong, and you gives
it to me."
Paddy saw one foolish fellow try ten times,
winning twice and losing eight times.
He did not know that the thimble-man
only allowed his customers to win when he
saw that their interest in the game could've
kept up by so doing. If Paddy had possessed
twopence he would certainly have tried, for
several times he was quite certain under
which thimble the pea would be found. As
he had nothing to risk he watched the for-
tunes of the others. Among those most in-
terested was young Charley Desmond, the
AN IRISH FAIR
son of the squire on whose estate Paddy
He had often gone otter hunting with the
young gentleman, and had been his devoted
follower in many other boyish sports. Paddy
watched with great interest as Charley Des-
mond made his guesses, and even volunteered
his advice as to the thimble which probably
covered the ball.
Suddenly Paddy cried out: "The dirthy
chate! He's after desaving you, sor. The
ball isn't under nary thimble. He's got it
up his sleeve, sor. Yees can see foryeeself."
And suiting the action to the word, he
passed his hand quickly across the conjurer's
little table, overturning every thimble and
proving true the first part of his statement,
for none of the thimbles covered the ball.
The conjurer raised his arm to strike Paddy,
who dodged, but not nimbly enough, for the
clinched fist came down upon his shoulder.
At the same time a shout of derision rose from
the crowd, for the ball rolled to the ground
from the swindler's sleeve.
Charley Desmond caught the man's arm
and prevented any further abuse of Paddy,
who squirmed from the thimble-man's grasp,
and now stood at a little distance rubbing
his shoulder and regarding his torn shirt
I owe you something, Paddy," said Char-
ley, for getting that knock for me, and I'll
pay your way into any of the shows which
you would like to see."
"Plaze your honour, I'd rather see the
learned pig. Sure, it's the gintleman, your
"The learned pig? That is just what
Katy wanted to see. She is over there in
the carriage. We will get her and go in
Kathleen Desmond, Charley's sister, was a
dark-eyed girl of fifteen. She nodded pleas-
antly to the ragged boy, and the three passed
into the showman's tent together.
Paddy was disappointed to see that the pig
wore only a broad belt of green cloth, instead
of the trousers in which he had been rep-
resented. Holes had been cut in his ears,
and in these bows of green ribbon were
AN IRISH FAIR
tied, while a third knot of ribbon adorned
"And now, me darlint," said the show-
man, addressing the pig, "we will perfarm
the sivinth article of the p'ogramme, and
answer any questions put by the honourable
The man forthwith placed before the audi-
ence a frame upon which were hung a num-
ber of swinging disks. He then led the pig
back towards the audience and placed a cord
attached to his collar in Kathleen's hand.
"If yer leddyship will plaze to should him
the minute," he said; "sure, the crayther's
that eager for l'arnin', it's restraint he's need-
ing. Now, if one of the gintlemen will give
my pig a sum in arithmetic, the answer to
the which is found here," and he proceeded
to chalk the numbers from one to ten on the
different swinging disks, "the darlint will
p'int it out for you. For insters, how much
does two and one, and one and four make,
He nodded to Kathleen to release the pig,
and as soon as she did so it darted forward,
and springing up, hit the disk bearing the
number eight several times with its nose.
The showman led the pig back again and
Charley Desmond asked, "What is twice
"Sure, I'll change the order a bit, to mix
him," said the showman, and he rearranged
the disks. Again, the instant that Kathleen
let go the string, the pig bounded away and
knocked the figure ten with great vigour.
The experiment was performed again and
again, the pig never making a mistake, but
striking the correct number each time, and
apparently enjoying the feat as much as the
audience. The showman next substituted
words for the figures, and the pig was told
to indicate one of these, and again he made
Kathleen was filed with wonder and ad-
miration. "Isn't he clever, though? Did
you ever see a pig that knew so much?"
But Paddy, who was a prying, sharp little
fellow, was not so easily taken in. He had
noticed that the showman, under pretence of
placing the disks in a different order, hung
AN IRISH FAIR
something behind the one which he wished
the pig to choose, and the boy at once sur-
mised that it was some dainty of which the
pig was fond. He determined to watch a
little longer before exposing the mounte-
bank, and he merely replied:
Sure, it's his master that's clever, I'm
thinking, and by the same token, if I had a
bit pig, it's meself could train him to the
same tricks and better."
"Oh! do you think so? But hush, what is
"The crayther will now go through his
catechism like a Christian," the showman
announced, and a barrel without head or
bottom was rolled in. When in place the
word "Catechism" was discovered painted
on the side in large letters, and the pig at
the same instant darted through the barrel.
Sure, he's gone through his catechism
quicker nor you nor I could do it," said
the showman. The audience shrieked with
laughter, but Charley Desmond cried out
that this was an old trick.
"Sure, and it is, your honour," the show-
man admitted, "and not worth showing to
your honour; but it's new to some of the
craythers. And now I'll show your honour
the most wonderful performance of all, for
the pig will play upon the harp and dis-
coorse the finest music, so that you will
scarce belave so simple a crayther could do
it." A small chair was produced, in which
the pig was tied. He seemed uncomfortable
and struck out wildly with his fore legs.
"Whist! Should still, ye vixen," said the
showman. Obsarve how impatient he is
to begin. Distrain yersel' till I give the
signal by rapping on the floor. Here, me
foine fellow (this to Paddy), will yees should
his legs till I gives the signal? "
Paddy assisted with alacrity, while the
showman rolled forward a dilapidated harp,
which he placed between the feet of the
animal. He then rapped loudly upon the
floor, and Paddy letting go his hold on the
swine's hoofs, it began striking and kicking
in the most lively manner. It certainly
seemed impossible that such wild move-
ments should produce anything but the
AN IRISH FAIR
direst discord; but St. Patrick's Day in the
Morning," Wearing of the Green," "Kitty
Tyrrel," and other well-known airs were
"Did you ever see anything so wonder-
ful?" Kathleen asked, her eyes wide with
"Plaze you, Miss Kathleen," said Paddy,
"it's all a thrick entirely. Sure, it isn't the
pig's harp that's making the music at all, at
all. I had my ear close to the strings and
sorra a sound come from thim. Sure, there's
some one else playing another harp under
the floor. Watch me close and see if it
With a rapid movement, when next the
showman's back was turned, Paddy pulled the
pig away from his instrument.
The music continued, and the audience
burst into a roar of derisive laughter.
The infuriated showman made a dash at
Paddy, but, made wary by previous encoun-
ter, the boy dodged adroitly and escaped.
There seemed to be no prospect of any fur-
ther performance, for the man refused to
show his animal's skill any longer to such a
set of ignorant, meddling spalpeens."
Charley Desmond at length succeeded in
pacifying him, and the pig was made to
dance, to drill, and "to talk French," which
he did by replying emphatically, Oui, oui,
oui," when asked if he was for O'Connell.
After a few other performances the audience
Paddy was hanging about waiting for the
Desmonds when they came out. "Isn't he
the swindler, though?" Charley remarked.
"Sure, that he is."
But did you see through how he made
the creature choose the right letters and
figures in that first trick?"
"As aisy as 'ating, your honour."
"And could you teach a pig to do all those
things?" Kathleen asked.
And a under more bewilderin', if I only
had the pig. Didn't I tache your dog to do
more things than you ever thought was in
the capacity of a brute baste? and it is well
known that a pig is more knowledgable,
and more like a Christian mortial entirely."
AN IRISH FAIR
How long would it take you to educate a
pig?" Kathleen inquired.
I'd engage to give you a show the beat
of this in a year's time," said Paddy, confi-
It's such a pity we are going back to
London next week," said Kathleen; "I should
so like to see you train it."
Begging your leddyship's pardon," said
Paddy, sorra a pig have I to train."
I am going to buy a pig," Kathleen re-
plied. "Will you keep it and educate it for
me until I return?"
Will Oi? Oi'll take it to the hedge school
for the Latin. It's the illegant scholard it
will be when yees comes back to the Hall.
A happy day that will be for us all, for there's
not -a gorsoon on the place but worships the
ground your leddyship threads on."
This was nearly true, for Kathleen had visit-
ed every cabin on the estate, and knew the
name of every child, while she was especially
intimate with the O'Learey children,who were
their nearest neighbours. There was a little
pine grove and a long sandbank between
them which was their common playground.
This bank was a fascinating place in which to
dig caves, and as it was overlooked by the
O'Learey cabin, to which Kathleen's nurse,
pretty Rose Callahan, liked to resort, it was
a favourite meeting-place of the children.
Rose Callahan had been brought up in
Castleisland, Mrs. O'Learey's birthplace, and
theyliked to gossip about their old neighbours,
but especially about Mrs. O'Learey's brother,
Barney Maloney. While they chatted, Paddy,
who was a wonderful mining engineer, extend-
ed his caves far into the bank, strengthening
them by wooden supports. Kathleen's imagi-
nation and varied reading endowed this cave
with fictitious interest. Sometimes it figured
as Ali Baba's hidden treasure-house, broken
crockery standing for the heaps of gold and
jewels; and at others it was a cave-temple
for heathen worship, such as her father had
told her existed in India, her largest doll rep-
resenting the idol to be approached only on
hands and knees.
Again it was the pirate's cave described in
"Guy Mannering," and smuggling raids were
AN IRISH FAIR
made on the pantry for booty to secrete with-
This highly enjoyable play came to an un-
timely end, owing to Kathleen's having been
buried in the cave by a falling in of the roof
between her and the entrance. Paddy had
worked like a beaver, and had dug her out
before she had time to suffocate; but Rose
Callahan had been so frightened that future
cave-life was strictly forbidden.
Still, intercourse with the O'Leareys had
not entirely ceased, for Charley had always a
troop of ragged urchins at his heels, and
Paddy was a valuable assistant in otter hunt-
ing, being able to lure the animals from
their holes by a clever imitation of their
bark. When Paddy saw his young master
and mistress at the fair he felt that he was
in luck, as indeed he was, for after the ex-
hibition of the learned pig, Kathleen took a
little purse from her pocket and a golden
guinea from the purse.
"Aunt Henrietta gave me this for my
birthday present," she said, "and I know
there is nothing I would like so much as a
learned pig. Since you are to train it, I
think it is but fair you should have the
selecting of it. Will you please buy one for
"Sure," said honest Paddy, his eyes pro-
truding in wonder, "it wouldn't cost more
than a crown to buy the little slip I'd be
wanting at the pig market at Castleisland
next month, and I a-going up to see me
"But it may cost you something to get
the pig back to Killarney, and you forget
that you will have to keep him a whole year,
and then you ought to be paid something for
Thus urged, Paddy accepted the guinea,
and great was the rejoicing in the O'Learey
household when he produced it that evening.
"And the young leddy was quite right,"
said Paddy's father, to give you something
handsome for the keep of the baste, and as
that comes out of me, sure I'll change the
guinea for you. Here's your crown, which
yees can spind at the pig market when yees
goes to see your grandmother at Castle-
AN IRISH FAIR
island, ard I'll kape the remaining rimnant
on account wid the pig."
Give it to me, Dinny, avillish," said Pad-
dy's mother, and let me take it up to the Hall
to pay the rint. It's two years we're after
bein' behind, and at that gait of backward
goin' we won't catch up till you and I are
Sure, what's the use of payin' at all, at
all? Our landlord's that good he would niver
Is that the way for an honourable Irish-
man to talk? I should think you'd be wantin'
to pay your just debts."
And that's what I am, acuszla; I'm owing
three crowns at the shebeen house, and Mike
says he'll trust me no more till I've paid up
my score. Did you mark that, now? Sure,
it's mesilf that's a poet, and I didn't know it.
The one dibt is as fair as the other. I'm
thinking' I'll pay for the whiskey."
Mike can wait as aisy as our landlord.
Sure, I've heard that Squire Desmond is not
so rich as he was, and this money came from
him, and it's like he knows we have it."
"There's no question but that Mike can
wait," replied Dinnis O'Learey; but kin Oi
wait? Answer me that me that's been
awake without a drop of the crayther, barrin'
and exception' the poteen we had at Larry
Lanighan's wake, and poor stuff it was and
little of it."
"Dinny," said Mrs. O'Learey, with a
pleading look in her faithful eyes, "Dinny
darlint, sure it's better off you'd be if you'd
let Mike wait your paymint and niver drink
another drop the rest of your mortial life.
Sure, with the pertaty crop that bad that it
is the winter's like to be a hard one, and I
misthrust we'll hear the childer cryin' for
hunger before it's done."
And will it fill their insides to know that
I've paid my rint?" asked Dennis O'Learey,
scratching his head. It's a dilemmy in-
tirely. Kape the guinea for the present and
I'll ask Feyther Nooney's advice when I goes
Mrs. O'Learey hardly knew what to think
of this decision, for she doubted whether the
priest would advise her husband to pay his
AN IRISH FAIR 27
rent, as he was known to be a strong Repeal,
as well as Catholic Emancipation, agitator. It
was something that her husband had not in-
sisted on giving the money immediately for the
whiskey debt, thus making the way clear for
future indulgence. Dennis was a kind-hearted
man when he was not drunk. She heaved a
sigh as she placed the coin in the toe of an
old stocking, and hid it behind a loose stone
in the chimney, and privately determined that
she would have an interview with the priest,
and try to win him over to her view of the
matter before her husband went to confes-
A PIG MARKET.
lived in Castle-
Sisland, a little
town to the north
Its name is
misleading, for al-
\ though it possess-
es the ruins of a
very old castle,
"5 neither the town
nor the fortress
is built upon an island. It may be that the
river Maine, which flows sleepily by, was
once deflected by moats and canals to isolate
the stronghold more completely; but however
this may ,have been in the olden time, the
castle moat is now dry, and the ruin accessible
A PIG MARKET
to every curious visitor who cares to climb a
low stone wall.
The owner of the ruin, in one of his rare
visits to Castleisland, noticed that the venera-
able pile was being pulled to pieces by the
townspeople, who found its hewn stones
" very convenient" for building purposes.
Wishing to protect the ancient landmark
from further devastation, he engaged the
town stonemason, Barney Maloney, Paddy's
uncle, to build a wall around the castle.
On the gentleman's next visit to his estate
he found the wall of which we have spoken,
but on looking within was surprised and dis-
pleased to discover that the finest part of the
castle had been demolished.
"Your bill is big enough, Barney," said
the irate owner, "but the wall seems to be
only of use to screen depredators. What has
become of the old donjon keep?"
"Troth, I pulled that down, sir," replied
Barney, to make the wall, and I'm thinking'
that, as it's hardly high enough, I'd best take
what's left of the castle to grow it a fut
Barney's stupidity was entirely assumed.
He had been more accountable than any one
else in the past for plundering the stones
from the ruin, for he looked upon the castle
as the representation of tyranny, which it
was the duty of every good Irishman to resist.
He had hoped, however, that his patron
would not return so soon, and that he would
receive his pay for his honest labour before his
trick was discovered, and he felt it a great
outrage that his employer refused to compen-
sate him for building the wall.
Barney sued the gentleman and the suit
went against him. The injustice of the de-
cision of the courts so rankled in Barney's
mind that he joined a group of malcontents,
neglected his work and went about the coun-
try listening to incendiary speeches against
landlords and the government. Castleisland
has always been a hotbed of rebellion, and
though Barney never advocated resorting to
violence, there were others who did, and a
middleman was shot while attempting to col-
lect rents. The real murderer escaped and
several innocent persons, Barney among them,
A PIG MARKET
were arrested. The unfortunate fellow had
no confidence in the law, and one night he
broke jail and fled the country, thereby fas-
tening the suspicion of the authorities upon
Paddy's grandmother lived in a lonely
cabin at the foot of Clanruddy Mountain.
Her son Barney had lived with her, had cut
her peat, cultivated the bit garden, and tended
the little Kerry cow until the terrible affair
of the murder. Paddy's mother was her only
other living child, and the old woman was
very lonely now that Barney had gone. She
was a great talker and dearly loved to tell her
story. Barney, quite tired out by his rough
day's work as a stonemason, would sit on one
side of the chimney with his pipe between his
teeth, while his mother sat on the other,
through the long winter evenings, the son
listening, or apparently listening, to the wild
legends which the old woman would tell over
and over again. Mother Maloney missed her
good listener. Sometimes the neighbours
found her talking to herself, telling the old
stories over from force of habit.
She was delighted to see her grandson, who
arrived in Castleisland the week before the
pig market. She hugged him and cried over
him and blessed him, and talked to him about
his uncle, to whom she always referred as
"him that's gone."
Paddy remembered his uncle's visiting, or
rather hiding, at their cabin in Killarney, on
his way to "furrin parts." He was a strap-
ping young man of twenty-five, but he had a
hunted look in his face. He had knocked at
Paddy's window with his blackthorn shillelah
just as morning was dawning. Paddy's
mother had kept her brother for a day, during
which he had bidden farewell to Rose Calla-
han, and had sent him on his journey with his
green and white striped carpet-bag well filled
with bread and meat and a couple of new
shirts, which she had just made for her hus-
band. Dennis O'Learey was a generous man,
and he gave his brother-in-law all the ready
money which he had to purchase a steerage-
ticket to New York, and none of his family
had seen him since.
"But he'll come back," Mother Maloney
A PIG MARKET
would say; "so here's destruction to his
innemies, and may I live to see it. But to
think, to think, Paddy, that you have thrudged
all the way from Killarney to see your old
grandmother. The illegant gossoon that
you've grown to be! Sure, there isn't another
in the four counties has such fine large teeth
or such big feet for his age. It's no thrifle
that they'll be costing your feyther, I'm
"As for the teeth, Granny, sure, I can ate
with the best, and by the same token I've had
only an oat cake for my luncheon."
Mother Maloney bestirred herself and fried
a bit of bacon, with some cold boiled potatoes,
and Paddy made a more enjoyable dinner
than many a king, washed down as it was
with a bowl of sweet milk.
And so you've come all the way to see
your grandmother!" Mother Maloney re-
"And to buy a pig," said honest Paddy.
"Listen to the likes of him!" exclaimed
Mother Maloney. "Is it stocking a farm
you're contrivin' ? "
Paddy told her the story of the guinea, in
which she was much interested. "And how
did the dispute between your feyther and
your mother turn out, me bouchal? I'll
warrant Dinny had the best of the argument,
for you say they left it to the praste, and
who iver heard of a soggart (scholate) advis-
ing any one to pay his rint? "
Sure, it was Feyther Nooney had the
wisdom of Solomon, Granny. He might
have decided for Mike, but my mither got
the ear of him and tould him how feyther
was better off without the whisky, and thin
it was Feyther Nooney who was in a dilemmy,
for though he had nothing agin our landlord,
Squire Desmond being an Irishman born,
niver sending an agent to evict a tenant,
but calling himself, friendly like, to collect his
prints, and giving us time when we needed it,
still it's a member of the Union that Feyther
Nooney is, and it's well known that the Union
is agin all landlords. Thin, on the other hand,
Mike is a parishioner of his, and it would
never do to advise feyther not to pay him.
So, after thinking a minute, sure it was an
A PIG MARKET
inspiration come to him, and says he-' A
debt is a debt, Dennis O'Leary, and there's no
distinction of parsons. Lay the money aside
and pay him that cones first to collect his
dues, and by the same token, you're owin' the
church a small matter of five shillings, and
the church comes first,' says he. With that
feyther paid him and thanked him and told
me mither, They won't either of them come
to collect,' says he, so it's a blessing entirely.'
But me mither knew that Squire Desmond
rode along the lawn lake every afternoon,
and she planted me by the way to tell him
would he call for the rint, which I did, and
much to me feyther's botherment, up he come
riding to the doore that very afternoon. I'm
hearing you're in luck, Dinny,' says he, 'and
are desiring, like an honest man, to pay some-
thing on your rent.' Bad luck to thim that
tould you so,' says feyther; 'but it's thrue,
anyhow, I'll not denije it.' And how could
he do it with me mither counting out the
shillings before his eyes, for Feyther Nooney
had broken the guinea!
I suppose you have other debts to pay
beside the rint,' says Squire Desmond. 'That
I have, your haner,' says feyther, and there's
Mike a-comin' up the hill to collect his, and
who the sorra tould him there was money in
the house I don't know, and me not knowing
how we shall get through the winter with
your haner in Lunnon.'
'I've been thinking' of that,' says Squire
Desmond, 'so we'll just wipe out the old
account,' says he, 'and you needn't pay a
penny, and if ye'll act as gamekeeper in
my absince and see that there's no poaching
in the forest or on the mountain, ye may
have this cottage rent free, beside all the dead
wood ye can pick up in the forest.'
"Well, my feyther was all struck of a heap,
and neither he nor my mither could say
enough in praise an' thanksgivin'. So there's
my feyther with a donkey and a cart to fetch
wood with, set up for the winter entirely. And
he has paid off Mike, and can get drunk when-
ever the fancy takes him, and that's not
seldom, for Mike's shebeen house is on the
way to the forest, bad luck to it, too convan-
ient entirely to rest in coming' and goin', and
A PIG MARKET
Mike that willing' to take his pay in faggets."
Paddy sighed deeply, but Mother Maloney did
not share his misgivings.
Sure, it's a dhrap or two of the crayther
will do him no harm entirely," said she. "It's
the landlord and the rint that makes all the
thrubble in Ireland, and if your feyther has
a good landlord and no rint, it's live like a
lord he may, for there's more than faggets to
be got out of the forest, I'm thinking. "
As Paddy evidently did not understand her
meaning she changed the subject. "The
morrow's market day," he said. "A crown's
little enough to pay for a pig, but you'll see
what your auld grandmother can do for you."
The next morning Paddy was up bright
and early, and walked to town with his grand-
mother. She was not a pleasant-looking old
lady in her ordinary indoor costume, which
consisted of a frieze petticoat and shortgown,
with wild elf locks straying from under the
broad ruffles of her soiled cotton cap, and a
short clay pipe held firmly between the few
teeth that were left her. She was even less
attractive in her out-of-door garb-a man's
high hat put on over her cap and fastened
under her chin with shoestrings, and a long
red woollen cloak. In summer she went bare-
foot, though she was often seen knitting
woollen stockings of variegated hue from
bits of yarn which kind-hearted neighbours
gave her. She carried a long crooked staff,
and looked like a witch, while many people
believed that she was one. But to Paddy she
was always so tender and kind that he trotted
along with his hand in hers quite unconscious
that she was not a most aristocratic old
The town presented a lively appearance.
A central strip down the principal street was
filled with booths and tip-carts, displaying a
great variety of merchandise. Two other
rows of carts were backed against the side-
walks, and Paddy and his grandmother walked
between them admiring the kids, the donkeys,
and the sheep grouped for sale. There were
pigs, too, galore-pigs in droves, litters of
pigs comfortably cradled in small donkey-
carts and hand-barrows, and one woman had
brought some tiny pink-nosed baby pigs on
A PIG MARKET
her head in a -basket. As Paddy paused in
front of one of the carts an ancient man in a
long-tailed blue coat, small clothes, and gait-
ers, and a dilapidated tall hat, came up half
leading, half driving a self-willed porker by
means of a string tied to its hind leg.
Six eggs to you, you divil," said the old
man, addressing the swine; six eggs to you,
and a half dozen of them bad for the dance
ye've led me the day. It's sell you chape, I
will, for I'd rather give you away than be
bothered to take you home."
Now, Paddy had determined the moment
that he noticed this particular pig that it was
the animal for him, and he spoke up joyfully
and hopefully, Sure, I'll take it off your
hands for you, honest man."
Thin hand me over ten shillings," said
the man; an' he's dirt chape at that. Just
look at the intelligent face on him; he'll 'arn
his own living pickin' and st'alin' from the
neighbours. He needs no kape at all. There's
no fince that'll kape him out or in. He'll
jump thim all, root up a half acre or so of
praties, take his desert off a dozen cabbages,
and be back in his shty, and him a squ'aling
as innercent for his supper as the babe in the
"Sure, that's a bad reputation entirely,"
said Mother Maloney. I don't wonder yeez
want to get rid of him. Ye'll not find any
one in the market will take him as a gift.
He'd be the ruination of his master."
"I'll take him, and thank you kindly,"
Sure, you've r'ason," replied the old man,
and, addressing Mother Maloney, he ex-
plained: It's truth I'm telling you, that
this pig would never touch it's master's
crops, barrin' a first experiment in that direc-
tion. Take him three times round the
garden, beating him in the four quarters of it,
and the baste will never offer to threspass on
the region, but will go right by the most
timpting display of inions and curlyflowers,
straight for the circumjacent territory of the
neighbours. He comes from a knowledgable
race of blissed bastes, descindints of a pig
belonging to the howly St. Anthony, who
was gifted with a moral sinse, and to whom
A PIG MARKET
the saint exposited the difference between
meum and tuum."
It's the soggart he is," Mother Maloney
murmured in admiration, and Paddy's eyes
glowed with unconquerable desire. "Give
me the pig," he exclaimed; it's just the kind
I want to learn him thricks."
"Sartinly, my little gintleman; but first,
where is your haner's twelve shillin's ? "
"Faith, you said you would give him
away," Paddy wailed.
No,avick, you misunderstood me entirely.
Fifteen shillings is the price of -this illegant
baste, and by the five crosses, I would take
no less if I were dying of hunger, for it
breaks my heart to part with the darlint; but
seeing' that it's in the professional line your
haner is, and the pig will likely make your
reputation and your fortune in the two king-
doms, not speaking of France, Ameriky,
Dublin, and other furrin parts, why, I'll not
be hinderin' the pig and you from going
where glory waits you, and he's yours for a
pound-fair and square, and neither more nor
less, so don't ye be talking. "
"Ye would villain!-" exclaimed Mother Ma-
loney; ye said yerself but just now that the
price was tin shillings, which is nine shillings
too much, for a thinner, hungrier-looking
crayther I never set eyes on. He would beg-
gar a nobleman to fatten him, and as to only
foraging on the neighbours, I'll not believe a
word you say. Sure, it's the lie that slides
aisily from your tongue, I'll be thinking .
Come along wid yez, Paddy, and we'll l'ave
the auld thafe to drive home his pig come
Paddy turned reluctantly away. I'll give
you this for it; it's all I've got," he said at
parting, displaying the crown. The old man
made a derisive gesture, and Mother Maloney
jerked him angrily along. They approached
the booths in the centre of the street, and
she stopped in front of a board placed on two
barrels, which formed the counter and base of
supplies over which Mrs. Finnigan was sell-
ing periwinkles and seagrass which she
had brought from the west coast. She had
no thought of business, but began gossiping
with her old crony on the state of the fisher-
A PIG MARKET
ies. Sure, they're very poor," she said to
Mother Maloney, and all because the fishers
didn't open the season according' to former
custom by taking the praste out with them to
bless the catch."
Paddy did not listen to them, but looked
back longingly at the pig they had just left.
He was young, but had none of the cherubic
chubbiness of youth. His legs were long and
lean, but cleanly made, the legs of a racer.
His head had an impertinent cock, his eyes,
though small, were active and had a sly ex-
pression, and his saucy snout moved nerv-
ously, as though he longed to be grubbing
for succulent roots and tubers. He was
spotted black and white, the white predomi-
nating on his fore quarters and the black on
his rear. This circumstance gave strangers
a curious surprise when the animal turned
around, the effect being as if one pig had
mysteriously disappeared and another had
been substituted in its place.
Mother Maloney noticed Paddy's longing
look and said: It isn't the likes of that pig
you're wanting, vick machree. He will in-
veigle you into more thrubble thin your life
is worth. He's no descindant of St. An-
thony's pig. Sure, I knows his race. There
was a pig as like him as two peas whose ac-
quaintance I had whin I was a child in Tip-
perary-the demon pig they called him, for
he was one of thim bastes into which the
divils entered what all ran violently down a
stape place and perished in the say."
"But if they were all drowned, grand-
mother, how could the demon pig have got
My explanation of the matter is that this
particular baste might have swam out to
some outgoin' st'amer that was just arriving ,
and so have taken free steerage passage
along with St. Patrick for Ireland."
"Then, I'm sure, grandmother, St. Pat-
rick's as good as St. Anthony any day, and
I don't want a fat, lazy thing that will ate
till the brains of him turns to fat an' good
looks, like a purty guril what knows her
valley. I likes the looks of this one, and if
he's a demon pig, so much the better. See
him wrinkle the nose of him. I'll warrant
A PIG MARKET
yees, he'll undo any latch, and his legs is like
a greyhound's; he'd lead the agint a chase if
he tried to collect him for the rint, though
it's neither agint nor rint to pay that we
have, praise be to the blessed saints."
The boy's clane daft," said Mother Ma-
loney. It's a case of thrue love, I'm
thinking and we all know that the less rayson
there is in that the more persistence. Whist,
Paddy, l'ave it to me, and since it's that pig
only ye will have, have it ye will; only don't
yees be looking' at it. Go and listen to the
ballad-singer, and purtend ye're out of con-
sate with the baste."
Paddy joined the circle of people that were
listening to the blind ballad-singer, but he
could not forbear glancing from time to time
in the direction of the owner of the pig, and
he was glad to see that he found no pur-
Late in the afternoon his grandmother
called to him to hurry home with her.
He's gone," she explained, "gone home,
his pig a-trottin' after him like a dog. Don't
yees be frettin', his road is our road as far as
the cross-ways, and we'll soon come up
They overtook the man, who looked up
hopefully and cunningly as he saw them
approach, but Mother Maloney apparently
took no notice of the pig, and Paddy walked
on whistling as he was told. Mother Maloney
had her apron full of periwinkles, which her
friend from the seashore had given her, and
both Paddy and she munched them as they
walked, for they had had no other luncheon.
She talked with the owner of the pig on
different topics, and he did not notice that as
she approached the cross-ways she strewed
her periwinkles along the path at intervals,
and that the pig ate them greedily. As she left
him at the cross-ways, he offered her the pig
for ten shillings, but she scornfully declined
the proposal, and trudged disdainfully on.
The tears gathered in Paddy's eyes, but he
hurried away the faster that he might not
show his emotion.
Suddenly he heard a galloping and snorting
behind him, and turning, saw that the demon
pig was following them, while its owner was
A PIG MARKET
panting and shouting far behind. "Whist,
Paddy," said Mother Maloney, "look not to
the right hand nor to the left." Here she let
fall a handful of periwinkles. Sure, the pig's
a darlint, and he's as much in love with you
as you with him."
She quickened her pace and pretended not
to hear the shouts of the irate man. When
he overtook them, and they could no longer
feign to be unconscious that the pig had
followed them, Mother Maloney ordered him
to take his "baste" away, and protested that
she would not take him as a gift, at the
same time shaking the last periwinkles from
her apron and walking resolutely into her
The swine followed her impudently, and
Mother Maloney could be heard scolding and
dealing vigorous blows with her broom, but
the blows fell harmlessly on her bed, and the
pig was supping from a saucer of milk which
she had placed for it behind the door.
"Come, rid me of the baste," she cried,
appearing in the doorway with the broom in
her hand. The man hesitated, and turned
to Paddy. Give me the crown yees offered
me and he's yours."
"Sure, he spent his crown at the market,"
Mother Maloney shrieked, but she was too
late, for Paddy had thrust his coin into the
man's hand and rushed overjoyed into the
cottage to embrace his demon pig.
ADDY was awak-
Sened the next
/ morning by the
squeals of his
S' pet. "He's cry-
T'P ing for hunger,"
'" Mother Maloney
.. explained. "He's
that knowledgable he follyed
Sme to the shed and watched
me at my milking, and now he's rampant,
he is, because I won't fade him before yees
has had yees breakfast."
Paddy quickly divided his porridge and
milk with his pig, and then expressed his
desire to be off for home. To this Mother
Maloney was very loth to consent.
"Sure, it's lonely I'll be without yees,"
she pleaded. "Why can't yees be con-
tint to stay here in the place of him that's
Paddy declared that he could not live away
from his own home, but proposed that his
grandmother should return with him, and
the old lady, having taken the time of once
smoking of her pipe to consider, consented.
She did not even delay for a sale of her
effects, for there was nothing left in the
cabin worth selling. Her provisions were
nearly exhausted. She had nothing with
which to face the coming winter but the
little Kerry cow, and she knew that it would
be seized on the next rent day. She there-
fore laid her only decent coverlet on the
floor, and tying what property she had that
was worth moving in one great bundle, she
carried it with Paddy's help to the cross-
roads and waited until the carrier's cart
came jingling along, when she begged the
transportation of the bundle to Killarney,
asserting that the expressage would be paid
by her son.
This done she returned to the cabin, and
tying a string to one of the hind legs of the
pig, and a rope about the neck of the cow,
she bade farewell to the poor cabin which
had served her so long as a home.
Paddy had great difficulty in inducing his
pig to move forward until he followed his
grandmother's advice to pull the animal by
the tail. "For thin," said she, "he'll be
that certain that it's to Castleisland yees
want him to go, that he'll be off like mad in
the contrary direction."
Mother Maloney's son-in-law was not over-
rejoiced when he learned that she had come
to visit him for the winter; but hospitality is
a marked trait of the Irish peasant, however
poor, and Dennis would have scorned to re-
fuse shelter to his wife's mother. He reflect-
ed also that the little Kerry cow was a very
desirable addition to their live stock, and its
milk a fair return for Mother Maloney's
For a time things apparently went well
with the family. To have their rent free,
and all their wood for the gathering, was suf-
ficient wages for Dennis's light duties as game-
keeper. Many a hare and a pheasant, too,
came back from the forest in his donkey-cart
hidden under the fagots, and as this contra-
band game was accepted at the shebeen house
instead of money, Dennis drank more and
more, and took no pains to cultivate his
potato plot, or indeed to do any kind of work.
It was of no use to dig the potatoes, for it
was in 1846, the first year of the great famine;
the blight had fallen on the plant, and they
were not too fit to eat. Many of their neigh-
bours were suffering, but as yet the O'Leareys
were not in distress, and all hoped for better
times the coming year.
The Desmonds had left the country, and
the great Hall was vacant. The ivy did its
best to cover the stately old building and
hide the disrepair. Squire Desmond was
wont to say that there were only two things
about the building which were not falling to
pieces-the ivy and the mortgages.
Financial and other troubles had soured
the Squire. Though an off-shoot of a noble
family, and the heir to many broad acres, he
was land-poor and disappointed in all his am-
bitions. It pained him to see the ruin staring
him in the face, not only on his own estates,
but throughout the country, and he decided
that he would leave. Ireland.
I will rent the estate," he said to him-
self, "for the rest of my life, and live hence-
forth on the continent."
Paddy went up to the Hall, the day before
the Desmonds left, to bid Miss Kathleen good-
by, and to show her the pig which he had
bought with her gift.
Kathleen was much pleased with the
bright, frisky little animal, and Paddy prom-
ised to have it finely instructed by her return.
Sure, he'll know Latin and dancin' by that
time, Miss Kathleen. I'll take him with
me to the hedge school and to mass, and
ye'll not be ashamed to own him as a rela-
He is a jolly, saucy little fellow, at any
rate," said Kathleen; "he will probably be
changed when I see him again. I am go-
ing to make a picture of him as he looks
While Paddy held the cord, Kathleen made
a few characteristic lines, which really gave
something of the spirit of the pig, supple-
menting the drawing with a couplet to re-
mind her still further of her pet.
This is the pig who, nose in air,
And small tail crisply curled,
When all the future seemed most fair,
Set out to see the world-"
"But, Paddy," she added, "he ought to
have a famous name. Have you decided what
to call him? "
No, miss. I'd rather you'd have the
namin' of him, if you'd be so kind."
"Then we will call him Finn ma Cool."
Was he an Irishman, miss? "
"Yes, Paddy, Irish of the Irish, the leader
of the Feni, a warlike tribe who lived cen-
turies before St. Patrick. Finn was a great
hero, but he was imprisoned by enchant-
ment one day when he went hunting in
the forest of the quicken trees, a kind of
mountain ash, that as quickly as they were
cut down shot up saplings which wove their
branches together and kept him in. Beware
of mountain ashes, Paddy, or you and Finn
may come to grief."
And if he never came out of his thrap,
how did folks know of it, to be sure ? "
"One of his followers, a poet named Oisin,
went away to England on the day that Finn
went hunting. He went to court a beautiful
lady who was a witch, and she did not wish
him to leave her, so she enchanted him, and he
stayed with her, as he supposed, three years,
but really it was three hundred. Finally he in-
sisted on going back to find Finn, and when
he reached Ireland he found that all the Feni
were dead and people had forgotten all about
them, for it was three hundred years since
Finn had gone hunting in the forest of the
quicken trees. But Oisin searched for him
and found that the forest itself had died and
grown black like bog oak, but still, closely
braided together, it shut in the bones of Finn.
Then Oisin went to St. Patrick and told him
all this story."
"Sure, it's a wonderful story entirely, but
if St. Patrick said it was thrue I'll not disbe-
lieve it, and will name the pig Finn ma Cool;
but by the- same token, be you gone one year
or three, Miss Kathleen, it'll seem three hun-
der to me till I hear your foine stories and
your swate singing again. Won't you sing
me one little song before you go, Miss Kath-
Certainly, Paddy. Come into the house
and I will sing you my favourite one, Rich
and Rare.' "
The girl made a beautiful picture as she
stood by the old Irish harp, and Paddy, who
sat in the window where he could hold the
pig by its tether, had eyes only for her, and
allowed Finn ma Cool to grub up a whole bed
of tulips while she sang.
He never forgot the singer or the words
of the ballad.
Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;
But oh! her beauty was far beyond
Her sparkling gems or snow-white wand.
Lady, dost thou not fear to stray
So lonely and lovely through this bleak way?
Are Erin's sons so good or so cold
As not to be tempted by woman or gold ?'
Sir Knight, I feel not the least alarm,
No son of Erin will offer me harm,
For though they love beauty and golden store,
Sir Knight, they love honour and virtue more.'
On she went, and her maiden smile,
In safety lighted her round the Green Isle,
And blessed for ever was she who relied
Upon Erin's honour and Erin's pride."
There were hard times in store for the
O'Leareys, when the handsome porker would
have realized a comfortable sum at the county
market, or have made delectable flitches of
bacon for the almost starving family, but
Paddy always insisted that Finn ma Cool was
Miss Kathleen's pig, not given him, but
simply entrusted to his care, and very hon-
ourably he fulfilled his trust.
He began at once with Finn's education,
teaching him first the tricks which he had
seen done by the performing pig at the fair.
Father Nooney was instructing a class of
young catechumens preparatory to confirma-
tion, and as Paddy went on every Friday to
the priest's house to recite his catechism, he
took Finn with him, striving as they walked
to teach the animal the catechism, and in-
deed Finn was nearly as intelligent as some
of the boys into whose heads the reverend
father attempted to beat the answers to the
Mother Maloney possessed a very ancient
and dirty pack of cards, with which it was
her wont to while away the long evenings by
playing solitaire. Paddy used to watch her
as he sat on the creepy-stool in the opposite
corner of the ingle, with his chin in his hand
and his elbow on his knee, and one evening
his grandmother, tired of arranging and
rearranging the cards on the hearth-stone,
offered to teach him to play the venerable
game of "blind-hookey," placing the creepy-
stool between them as a table. Paddy had a
head for cards, and Mother Maloney fre-
quently invited him to play with her. So
one day Paddy prevailed upon her to allow
him to bring Finn ma Cool into the cabin
and teach him the game. This he did by
spreading the cards in front of the pig,
and when it was his turn to play, deftly slip-
ping a shelled acorn under the proper card.
Finn would make a dash forward, push the
card toward them with his snout and devour
the acorn beneath it. This, it will be seen,
was only an adaptation of the trick of the
swinging disks performed at the fair. Paddy
had gained considerable manual dexterity,
and continued to introduce the acorn so
adroitly as not to be discovered by Mother
Maloney, whose eyes were no longer so sharp
as her tongue.
This simple device was varied in a hundred
ways, and served as the basis of teaching the
pig the catechism. Paddy practised this feat
on the mud floor of the vestry, while waiting
Father Nooney's arrival, to the gaping won-
der of his fellow-catechumens. His custom
was to spread a suit of cards before Finn
and then ask one of the questions having
a numerical answer, as, How many sacra-
ments are there?"
Instantly the pig turned the seven-spot,
while Rory O'Flannagan repeated: Baptism,
conflammation, ewcharist, pennies, extreme
onions, howly order, and matrimony. He's
right, the ratherr"
How may sins cry to Heaven for venge-
Over went the four-spot.
Nay," said Phelim Malloy, "there's but
three: wilful murder, the sin of Sodom, and
oppression of the poor."
Sure, you've forgotten defrauding labour-
ers of their wages, and that's worst of all.
Sure, the baste knows more than you do,
Phelim. Try him again."
Thin how many mysteries of the rosary
are there? asked Phelim, with a sly look.
" He can't answer that, for there are fifteen,
and yees haven't a card with fifteen spots
"Can't he answer them?" Paddy replied
derisively, as he laid down two more cards,
and Finn turned three fives in succession.
"There's the foive of hearts, that's the foive
joyful mysteries; and the five of spades,
thim's the foive sorrowful mysteries; and the
foive of diamonds, thim's the five glawrious
In like manner the pig turned the four tens
to tell the number of days in Lent, the ten
of clubs to represent the Commandments, the
three of hearts for the theological virtues,
the eight of diamonds for the beatitudes, the
four and ten of clubs for the fourteen stations
of the cross.
The boys were so interested that they had
not noticed the coming of the priest, who
stole silently into the vestry and observed
the performance, at first with amusement,
and at last with superstitious dread, being
convinced that the pig was possessed by the
Father Nooney was something of an exor-
cist, having practiced with great success on
several old women afflicted with imaginary
disorders. He seized the holy-water can and
was about to empty the contents on the pig
when a sudden thought struck him. He
left the room as silently as he had entered,
and betaking himself to the kitchen of
his own house, filled the can with boiling
water from the tea-kettle. Then returning,
just as Finn's exercise had ended, he or-
dered Paddy sternly to hold the beast while
he put him through a few more questions
from the catechism. Paddy trembled, for
there was malice in Father Nooney's eye as
"Have the holy fathers and the ancient
church writers left upon record any miracles
done by holy water ? "
The pig was silent, and Paddy replied:
" Plaze, sor, he can only answer by the con-
figuration of the cards."
"Ow! Thin answer yersel'."
Plaze, sor, they have, agin magical en-
chantments and the power of the divil."
Right you are. See St. Epiphanius, St.
Hierome, Theodeus, Palladius, and the Histor-
icus Ecclesiasticus. Now, all you repate in
consart Oxis doxis glorioxis! '" and Father
Nooney threw the false holy water, can and
all, at Finn ma Cool. But Paddy, perceiving
his intention, had let go the tether, and his pet
escaped with only a sprinkle of the scalding
fluid, which descended more liberally on his
own bare feet.
From that time hatred and distrust of
his spiritual instructor took firm root in
Paddy's soul, and he looked for an op-
portunity to pay him back. His revenge
came at last and will be related pres-
In the meantime, Finn, though under the
ban of the Church, attended every wedding
and wake in Killarney, and never failed to
create great amusement, and to gather in a
few pennies for Paddy.
He presently developed a new talent, which
commended itself to Dennis as well. When-
ever Paddy went to the forest to assist his
father in gathering wood he took Finn with
him, and Paddy taught the pig to fetch and
carry sticks. One day he brought a young
hare back and laid it at Paddy's feet. Paddy
raised his arm to beat Finn, but his father
stopped him. The incident convinced Dennis
that Finn could be taught to hunt like a sport-
ing-dog. He knew that his son would not be
a party to such a proceeding, and after this
he left him at home, but took Finn with
Finn grew to enjoy this very much and
would squeal with impatience to be taken
on the excursions. He would trot around to
the different traps and snares which Dennis
had laid, sometimes showing great intelli-
gence in springing them, and would come
galloping back to his master's cart with the
pheasant or hare in his mouth. He even
learned to point and course the game, never
offering to devour it himself. His keeping
cost very little, for he made his living chiefly,
indeed, from other people's gardens, as had
been predicted, never touching anything that
grew in the O'Leareys' plot. His peculiar
marking, white spotted with black from nose
to middle, and black spotted with white from
middle to tail, had given rise to many amus-
ing experiences and had once saved him from
the just reward of his depredations; an ad-
venture which happened in this wise: The
gardener at the great house, as Desmond
Hall was called, happening to look into his
celery trench, was consternated to find all
the crisp sprouts eaten off or broken. Look-
ing up, he saw the evident perpetrator of this
mischief-a pig worming its way through the
hedge. He hastily followed it, "a stern
chase proving a long chase," and the pig
soon disappearing in a gully which led toward
the gamekeeper's cottage.
The irate gardener presented himself
shortly at the door, calling for vengeance
on a black pig which had destroyed his
Paddy was dismayed, but a look of cunning
showed itself on Mother Maloney's shrewd
Sure, we've but the one pig here, and
him slaping as innercent as the babe in its
stoy." And she led the gardener trium-
phantly to the rear of the cabin, and showed
him Finn reposing peacefully, half in and
half out of the keg which served him as a
sort of kennel.
There was surely something uncanny about
the creature; he lay with his chin on one
fore hoof, his saucy pink snout turned up,
one eye sleepily closed, the other regard-
ing the company with an expression of con-
scious innocence all unafraid. "It's the
blessed lamb he is," said Mother Maloney,
and, save for a few inky spots, all that was
visible of the pig was of a lamb-like white-
ness. He was utterly unlike the impish black
pig which the gardener had seen squirming in
the hedge and scurrying before him down the
hill, and baffled and deluded, the man reluc-
tantly took his leave.
It was some little time after this that
Paddy conceived the idea of utilising this
physical peculiarity still further. He asked
his granny to make Finn a little coat of black
cloth and a petticoat from an old white silk
handkerchief. Paddy had taught the animal
to stand erect, and when clothed in the black
coat, the trim black legs continued the colour
scheme," and gave him the appearance of a
natty little gentleman. As the coat was cut
low in the front, the white throat of the pig
carried out the idea of a shirt-front, and in
this guise, resting one hoof on a walking-
stick, and wearing a cocked hat, Finn posed
as a beau. Snatched behind the door, the
coat was removed, the white silk petticoat
took its place, a bit of white net, such as the
Killarney girls used as the web of their lace,
was thrown over Finn's head and shoulders,
which gleamed white through its meshes,
and he was introduced as a bride, and it was
difficult, indeed, to believe that one actor had
taken both parts.
Sometimes when his rustic audience ap-
plauded the really clever performances of his
pupil, Paddy longed for wider appreciation,
and he thought how fine it would be to
trudge away to larger towns and exhibit his
pet at the great fairs; but he had a strong
home attachment, and he loved his mother so
dearly that only a desperate crisis could
induce him to such a step as this.
Very steadily and swiftly that crisis was
S.. potato crop had
failed during the
was likely to do so
again, and Dennis
drank more and worked not a whit, the family
were hopeful, for they relied for the coming
winter on the perquisites which they had en-
joyed from Dennis's office as gamekeeper.
Much to their disappointment and dismay
this means of a livelihood was suddenly cut
off from the O'Leareys. The tenant who
rented Squire Desmond's place had no knowl-
edge of the verbal contract between the
Squire and his gamekeeper, and even refused
to believe that Dennis had been called to that
office. The Squire, in the multiplicity of his
cares, had forgotten to mention it, and the
new tenant insisted that Dennis should pay
rent for his cottage, and should forego the
privilege of gathering wood in the forest.
He even hinted of his intention to prosecute
him for poaching.
Dennis protested his inability to pay rent,
but the tenant pointed to his live stock.
"You have a donkey, a cow, and a pig, and
can raise money on them, and if the rent is
not ready for me when I come again I will
seize the live stock."
The curse of Jeffrey Lynch be on you "
cried Mother Maloney, and may you carry
his coal of fire in your bosom to the end of
The entire family united in lamentation
and malediction that evening, but the next
morning, being market-day at Ballyma-
gooley, Dennis led the cow away, announcing
his intention to sell it. The little animal
seemed to understand the situation, for it
struggled and lowed, while the children fol-
lowed in a weeping procession for quite a
distance, the cottagers coming out of their
houses to give their opinion of the hard-
Paddy came back to the house when quite
tired and found his grandmother crouched
in the chimney corner. He fancied that she
must be overcome with grief, for she had
manifested an amount of self-control quite
foreign to her nature when the cow was led
"It is too bad, Granny," he said, putting
his hand in hers. The new landlord has no
right to take Mooley, for she does not belong
to feyther, but to you, and feyther has no
right to sell her from you."
Don't be after judging your betthers,"
said Mother Maloney. What your feyther's
done he's done with my consint; but the land-
lord will niver resave a pinny from the sale
of the cow. May he sup sorrow for this day,
and may the coal of Jeffrey Lynch burn into
his heart and his brain."
"What is the coal of Jeffrey Lynch,
Granny ?" Paddy asked.
And you not to know, who have lived in
sight of his house since yees been born!"
Do you mean the house without a roof,
on Purple Mountain, that everybody says is
haunted ? I've seen every windy of that
house lighted up in the avenin', and once
feyther said, 'Jeffrey Lynch's coal of fire is
flaming high the night, and by the same
token some poor people are being evicted
from their homes without marcy.' Whin I
axed him what Jeffrey Lynch's coal was he
said it was a Satan's keepsake that the divil
gives every bad man in this life as a foretaste
of what's to come. But thin I don't under-
stand him at all, at all; for they say Jeffrey
Lynch is long dead; any way, I've seen his
tombstone in the burying-ground."
"Have you niver heard the story ? asked
Mother Maloney. It goes this way. Jeffrey
Lynch was a middleman. He rinted land of
the earl, and thin he rinted it again on a
profit to the poor farmers; and if they were
the last pinny behind he evicted them very
time, though he supped sorrow for it there-
Well, he died, sure, and though he was a
bad, cruel man entirely, and must have known
he had no right in the promises, it was the like
insurance that was in him to take stage-coach
for heaven, as though he had a billet signed
by the pope giving the angels orders for his
lodging and entertainment. Whin he knocked
at the gate, says St. Peter, says he, Who's
I'm Jeffrey Lynch of Killarney.'
I know you,' says Peter, 'you murderin',
rack-rintin' would vagabond. You evicted
your tinants; you must seek your lodgings
further down,' says he.
"So he takes the back stairs to Purgatory,
and at the doore, thim that runs that board-
ing-house axed him what his business had
"'I was a land-grabber,' says Jeffrey.
'Sure, I niver thought to put up with the likes
of such company as this, but as it's go furder to
fare worse, if you make me comfortable and
give me the best of everything you've got, I'll
condescind to patronise this establishment.'
"'Did you evict your tinants ?' says the
landlord of Purgatory.
"' I evicted some,' says Jeffrey.
"' Thin consider yourself evicted,' says the
landlord, a-handin' back his gripsack, heavy
with the earnin's of starving people, and Jef-
frey Lynch, he went a round lower of the lad-
'This way, sor,'says the would boy, a-takin,
down the key of number two hundred million
from the hook and reaching for Jeffrey's
overcoat. 'That's a basement room,' says
he, convenientt to the furnace. You'll not
complain of slapin' cold,' says he. But first
have the politeness to inscribe your name on
the hotel register.'
I'm Jeffrey Lynch, of Killarney,' says
Jeffrey; but so soon as he uttered his name
all of the evil spirits in the siminary raised
one yell. Give him a coal of fire and sind
him back to Killarney,' screams they, 'or
he'll evict us all.'
So back he was obliged to trot. And that
is the r'ason that he lives in his house alone
on Purple Mountain to this day, though the
thatch has been gone this fifty year from the
roof, and the moss has kivered his name on
the tombstone. Many a night honest folk
belated see that bit coal that Satan gave
him, and that same Satan's keepsake is re-
morse, mind you that, Paddy; they see that
coal, I say, shining red in his windy, a warn-
ing to hard landlords who have any desire to
live in another country than this after they
And won't feyther get a Satan's keep-
sake, too, for st'aling Squire Desmond's
pheasants?" Paddy asked.
"Hoot, toot!" replied his grandmother,
who did not relish this application of her
parable. "Sure, there couldn't be coals
enough in the pit to go round, if Satan wasted
them by giving them away for a little thing
When Dennis came home that evening
there was a whispered conference between
his mother-in-law, his wife and himself, and
all seemed well pleased, though there was a
pretence at sniffling.
"And how much did yees get for the cow ? "
Don't yees be after asking onconvan-
ient questions," Mother Maloney exclaimed.
" Whin the landlord comes and asks that same
ye'll be glad yees can't answer."
The younger children cried that night
because Paddy told them there would be no
milk for their porridge at breakfast, but
what was their surprise on rising to see a
pail of milk standing on the table as usual.
"It's the kindness of one of the neighbours,"
said Dennis, and Paddy wondered who had
been so generous. The wonder grew, for the
milk was there every morning. Late one
night as Paddy lay in the little loft over the
kitchen, which was his bedroom, he heard
some one open the door and enter the kitchen
stealthily. He slipped from his bed and ap-
plied his eye to a crack in the floor, and saw
his father with the pail of milk in one hand
and a lighted lantern in the other.
It was plain that Dennis went for the milk
secretly, and a suspicion smote the boy that
it was stolen. He had never eaten of the
broiled pheasants and hares which his father
brought from the park, and now he could not
touch the milk. At first he had scruples
about allowing Finn ma Cool to drink it, but
concluded that as the animal had no soul he
could not be depraved by it, and as both pig
and milk belonged to the Desmonds, it might
not be wrong for them to travel in company.
But he was troubled for his father, both for
the sin and the danger; for it was a very
daring thing to slip into Squire Desmond's
barns and milk the cows by night, and Paddy
knew that if his father were discovered, the
new landlord would not condone the offence.
He could only protest by declining the
milk at breakfast, and eating his porridge
with only salt to make it palatable.
But there was more trouble in store for
Paddy. Rent day was approaching, and he
overheard his father say to his mother that
the landlord would probably seize Paddy's
pig. "And I shan't hinder him," Dennis
asserted, for I happened to be walking with
Finn outside the park, and the crayther
squeezed himself through the hedge and
caught a fine rabbit and brought it outside to
me, which was all very well, and knowledg-
able in the baste, and he's done that same be-
foore. But bad luck would have it that the
gardener saw him do it, and though he
couldn't arrest me for poaching, for I was not
on the preserves at all, at all; he would have
it that I had taught the pig.the thrick, and he
said he would shoot him the next time he
caught him. So it's fearful I am the baste
can't be broken of its bad habits. It must be
the would innemy taught him; and if he's shot,
sure we won't be allowed the 'atin' of him;
and it's just as well not to anger thim that has
authority. We don't want to be evicted like
the O'Donovans, and we can spare the pig
better than the donkey, and sure, if he gets
the pig, maybe he'll beasking no questions
about the cow."
The landlord have Finn ma Cool! Paddy
could scarcely believe his ears, for Finn was
not his pig, but Miss Kathleen's; surely his
mother would say so. But no, for she only
replied that perhaps it would be better to let
the donkey go and kill the pig and salt him
down for the winter.
Kill Finn ma Cool! Eat Finn ma Cool! The
very idea made Paddy quite sick. There was
only one sympathetic friend to whom he
could go in his distress, and that was his
Hide the crayther until after rint day,"
she counselled. Your mither's right; the
pig is worth more than the donkey, for not a
stiver of work does Dinny do with the cray-
ther, and it's many a penny you've brought
in on fair days and from weddings, from the
divartisement of your pig, to say nothing' of its
poachin', which might be restrained in proper
The more Paddy thought over his grand-
mother's advice the more reasonable it seemed
to him, and that very night, an hour after all
the family had retired, he slipped down from
his loft, took Finn ma Cool from his sty, and
started with him up the side of Purple Moun-
tain. For Paddy had decided that the safest
hiding-place for his pig would be the haunted
house of Jeffrey Lynch. No one in Killar-
ney, he felt sure, would be so foolhardy as to
dare to explore it, and his own heart beat
rather faster than usual at the idea of ventur-
ing into that ill-omened place by night.
It was true that he had made up his mind
to the very rational conclusion that the red
light in the windows, or rather on them,
which was visible nearly every evening, was
only the reflection of the sunset; but the
story migzt be true, after all. The windows
were quite dark now, and if there had not
been moonlight Paddy would not have been
able to distinguish the house on the sombre
hill or find his way along the thickly wooded
path. But he had often been out much later
than this on his way home from wakes and
merry-makings, and he whistled The Devil's
Dream to keep up his spirits. He thought
of the legend of the quicken trees as he
pushed his way through the thicket which
surrounded the house, and his blood ran cold
as he came out in front of the deserted house
to see that the windows were really lighted
from within, and the light shone through the
naked rafters and outlined them like gallow's
trees against the sky. The light was not
stationary, but moved about within the house,
and Paddy would certainly have beaten a
precipitate retreat had not Finn ma Cool
walked coolly up to the front door, where he
stood squealing for admittance.
It's hoping I am that Jeffrey Lynch has
bad eyesight in his ears," said Paddy to him-
self, as he approached cautiously and en-
deavoured to secure his pig. As he did so a
pair of horns and a great dark head suddenly
raised themselves before the lighted window,
and Paddy stood rooted to the ground with
horror, thinking that Satan himself must have
come to visit his faithful servant, Jeffrey
Lynch. Another instant and what was his
amazement to see his own father within the
haunted house. Paddy had never had a high
respect for his father, but he had never be-
lieved him so wicked as to keep company
with Jeffrey Lynch and Satan.
His mystification lasted but for a moment,
when his father's voice, exclaiming: "So,
Mooley. Whist! be aisy now. What ails the
baste?" and a well-known low, explained it
all. His father had only pretended to sell
the little Kerry cow, and had hidden her
away here to keep her from the landlord's
clutches. At first, Paddy could hardly for-
bear laughing aloud and shouting: There's
two of us, feyther. Faix, we're in the same
But it occurred to him in good time that
while his father was hiding the cow from the
landlord, he, Paddy, was attempting to hide
the pig from his father. He therefore pru-
dently retired into the thicket with Finn ma
Cool, taking his jacket off and fitting its one
sleeve closely over his pet's snout to keep him
from grunting. He waited until he saw his
father's lantern twinkling down the steep
path, and then he entered the cabin, glad at
heart for several reasons: First, his father
had not stolen the milk which they had
every morning for breakfast; second, dear
old Mooley had not been sold; and third,
which was no small consideration after their
insufficient supper, he could now refresh
himself and the pig with a drink of milk,
which he did by milking a fine stream
into his own mouth and then into Finn ma
But it would not do to hide his pig here.
He dared not leave him even for the night,
for there was no telling when his father might
return. The only other hiding-place which
he could think of was Muchross Abbey. It
was a long way to this beautiful ruin around
the lake, but Paddy had no sense of weariness,
now his heart was so light, and he trudged
bravely on, repeating to himself an odd para-
phrase of the ballad which Kathleen Desmond
had sung for him:
Finn ma Cool, I feel not the last alarrum;
No son of Erin will offer us harrum.
For though they love pork and bacon galore-
Whist, Finn they love manner and vartue more."
Although Muchross Abbey is situated in
the middle of a burial-ground, and contains
many tombs, Paddy was not afraid to venture
there-in the first place, because the people
there were so very dead that it was hardly
conceivable that their ghosts could walk.
No one had been buried there within the
recollection of any living man. No one lived
who felt any grief for, or had even known,
the occupants of those tombs. It was a show
place and resort for tourists, even at this
time, though they came less frequently then
than at the present day.
It was a favourite spot of Kathleen's, and
Paddy had often been there with her. She
had shown him the tablet to the memory of
her great-great-grandmother, Geraldine Des-
mond. It was a strange bit of vanity, flaunt-
ing as it did the paltry honours of this life at
the door of death, but Paddy was too simple-
minded to notice any incongruity and always
read it with great respect.
This was what the tablet said:
A memorial of the trulie vertuous and religious Geraldine
Desmond late of Killarney, lineally descended on her father's
side from the ancient and worshipfull family of MacCarthy
More of Kerry & on her mothers from the ONeils of Ul-
ster. This Geraldine was the wife of Hugh Desmond who
was cozin thrice removed of that Earl of Desmond who was
basely betrayed & slain his head sent to London, and his
estates confiscated, but this Hugh being Secretary to the
Lord Deputy managed better with both his head and his
estates, & laid the former to rest in peace under the next
tomb and left the latter to his lodge, whose fervent zeale to
the Gospel her pietie, sanctitie and charitie, both the church
which she endowed, and the poor whom she maintained, can
sufficiently testified. Aged upon LXXX years she died.
"No better thought than think on God
And daily him to serve
No better gift than to the poor
Who ready are to sterve."
Paddy led his charge through the beautiful
ruined abbey church. The moonlight shone
through the shattered Gothic arches and the
night wind gently moved the trailing ivy.
This jewel-box, among abbeys, is beautiful
in the sunshine, but-
"When the broken arches are black in night,
And each shafted oriel glimmers white;
When the cold light's uncertain shower
Streams on the ruined central tower;
When buttress and buttress alternately
Seem framed of ebon and ivory;
Then home returning soothly swear
Was never scene so sad and fair."
From the church Paddy passed to the
cloisters around the yew tree, old even then,
and mounted a narrow, winding stair to the
abbot's room. The roof was open to the
sky, but there was an odd little niche in one
corner which might once have been a shrine
or a secret closet where the abbey silver was
kept. Paddy had filled his arms with straw
as he passed a farmer's rick, and in the niche
in the abbot's room Paddy made the pig a
comfortable bed. Finn was not inclined to
stay in it, so Paddy descended again to the
church, and bringing up a small tombstone
barred his friend in. Finn thrust his nose
through the aperture between the tombstone
and the lintel and squealed with indignation
as Paddy left him, but the boy bade him not
to make a "screech owl" of himself and
It was almost morning when Paddy reached
home, and it seemed to him that he had not
fallen asleep before he heard his mother
"Get up, Paddy, Finn ma Cool has run
away, or else the darlint's been stolen."
Run away! And how could the crayther
do that, when I barred him in with a tomb-
stone?" Paddy asked, sleepily.
"With a tombstone! Sure, it's dreaming
you are. Come down to your breakfast, and
then hunt him up, that's a darlint."
Paddy came down and surprised his mother
by drinking a large portion of the milk which
he had lately seemed to dislike. After break-
fast he carried a bowlful of the milk away
with him, saying that he would tote Finn
home with it; but it is needless to say that
he came back without the pig. He found
the family in tears, for the landlord had just
carried away the donkey.
"Sure, the crayther's no good, now that
we can't take him to the forest to carry the
fagots home," said Paddy.
"Ow," wailed Paddy's mother, "if him-
sel' were only at the Hall he would not have
his own people treated so, but we've no one
to send to Lunnon to tell Squire Desmond
how we're mistreated."
Paddy mused sadly. It was long past the
time that Kathleen Desmond had promised
to return. Would he be able to keep Finn
ma Cool until her return? Would she ever
come? He determined to ask that afternoon
at the Hall when the family were expected.
But here again he received no comfort. The
housekeeper told him that the present land-
lord had leased the estate for seven years,
but she gave Paddy Miss Kathleen's address,
a convent in France. No one at home could
write a letter, and the only person whom
Paddy knew who possessed skill enough to
do it was Father Nooney, with whom he was
not now on good terms. That very after-
noon while Paddy was at the Hall a further
cause of estrangement had arisen.
A superstitious woman had visited Father
Nooney and had informed him that she had
heard a ghostly priest chanting a midnight
mass in Muchross Abbey.
Under seal of confession the woman fur-
ther divulged that, driven by extreme pov-
erty, she had gone to the abbey at night for
the purpose of prying some of the brazen
tablets from the walls and selling them for
While engaged in this wrongful deed the
blows of her hammer woke dreadful echoes
through the ruined abbey, and not echoes
alone, for presently she heard the sound of
chanting, as though the dead-and-gone monks
were on their way from the cloisters to their
seats in the choir. She fled panic-stricken,
but returned after a time, and on seeing the
spot still deserted, concluded that the sounds
which she thought she had heard were only
the imaginings of guilty conscience; but at
the very first blow they began again with
The occasion was too suggestive to be
neglected. Father Nooney enjoined on the
woman, for the good of her own soul and
the glory of the Church, to make public con-
fession on the next Sunday, when he also
announced that he would hold a station at
Muchross Abbey on the following Friday,
confessing all those in the parish who had
like sins upon their minds, receiving their
offerings and saying a mass for the rest of the
troubled spirits in the cloister.
Father Nooney, to tell the truth, did not
believe in these spirits. He cared so little as
to what it was which the woman had heard
or thought she heard that he did not even
visit the abbey to investigate before the
day appointed for the station. If Paddy had
attended church he would have been warned,
and would have removed Finn from his place
of hiding; but since the day that holy water
had been administered boiling he had shunned
Mrs. O'Learey reported on her return from
church that Father Nooney had announced
that he would hold a "station," but she
neglected to mention the place appointed, and
Paddy gave the matter no attention.
On Friday Father Nooney proceeded to the
abbey a little ahead of time, accompanied by
his catechumens, who were to act as choir-
boys. They carried an altar-cloth, some can-
dles and candlesticks, two china vases filled
with dingy paper flowers, and a few other
ecclesiastical furbishings, and with these he
proceeded to improvise an altar from a
large tomb. Then he gave his choir their
places and explained to them their parts, not
without some grumbling on their part, for
Phelim Malloy, their very best singer, was
Now, Father Nooney had artfully told
Phelim to hide at the other end of the cloister
in the abbot's room, and when he heard the
singing in the chapel to roar out responses in
his very loudest tones.
Phelim was an orphan whom Father
Nooney was educating for the priesthood, and
the wily priest felt that he could rely upon
his confederacy in the plot. But Father
Nooney had not reckoned on any real pres-
ence in the haunted chamber, and hardly had
the chanting begun when Phelim, with terror
staring from his countenance, rushed into
the chapel exclaiming: "A ghost! a ghost!
There is a ghost in the abbot's chamber."
The congregation sprang to their feet, and
although it was broad daylight, the greater
part tumbled over each other in their haste
to leave the abbey. But there were others
braver or more incredulous than the rest who
remained and surrounded Father Nooney
while he questioned the trembling boy.
Faith, I wint up to the abbot's chamber,
as you tould me, sor-"
"Whist, Phelim, make no circumlocutions
from the truth. Bein' naturally of a pryin'
disposition, yees was explorin' and spyin'
about this religious house, when yees chanced
into the abbot's chamber, and what happened
"Why, I stood by the windy, sor, that
looks down on the cloister, and when the
boys began to sing, I begins, just as you tould
me, sor, whin from a sort of cupboard in the
wall there came sich cries and groans as would
have broken the courage of a gauger, sor."
"And yeez turned tail and run simply