FAIRY LEGENDS.
THE SHEFRO.
"Fairy Elves
Whose midnight revels, by a forest side
Or fountain, some belated peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while over-head the Moon
Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth
Wheels her pale course."-
Milton.
THE LEGEND OF KNOCKSHEOGOWNA.
I.
In Tipperary is one of the most singularly shaped
hills in the world. It has got a peak at the top
like a conical nightcap thrown carelessly over
your head as you awake in the morning. On the
very point is built a sort of lodge, where in the
summer the lady who built it and her friends
used to go on parties of pleasure; but that was
long after the days of the fairies, and it is, I be-
lieve, now deserted.
But before lodge was built, or acre sown, there
was close to the head of this hill a large pasturage,
where a herdsman spent his days and nights
among the herd. The spot had been an old fairy
ground, and the good people were angry that the
scene of their light and airy gambols should be
trampled by the rude hoofs of bulls and cows
The lowing or the cattle sounded sad in their
cars, and the chief of the fairies of the hill deter-
mined in person to drive away the new comers -
and the way she thought of was this. When the
harvest nights came on, and the moon shone bright
and brilliant over the hill, and the cattle were
lying down hushed and quiet, and the herdsman,
wrapt in his mantle, was musing with his heart
gladdened by the glorious company of the stars
twinkling above him, she would come and dance
before him, -now in one shape-now in another,
- but all ugly and frightful to behold. One time
she would be a great horse, with the wings of an
eagle, and a tail like a dragon, hissing loud and
spitting fire. Then in a moment she would change
into a little man lame of a leg, with a bull's head,
and a lambent flame playing round it. Then
into a great ape, with duck's feet and a turkey-
cock's tail. But I should be all day about it
were I to tell you all the shapes she took. And
then she would roar, or neigh, or hiss, or bellow,
or howl, or hoot, as never yet was roaring, neigh-
ing, hissing, bellowing, howling, or hooting, heard
in this world before or since. The poor herdsman
would cover his face, and call on all the saints for
help, but it was no use. With one puff of her
breath she would blow away the fold of his great
coat, let him hold it never so tightly over his eyes,
and not a saint in heaven paid him the slightest
attention. And to make matters worse, he never
could stir; no, nor even shut his eyes, but there
was obliged to stay, held by what power he knew
not, gazing at these terrible sights until the hair
of his head would lift his hat half a foot over his
crown, and his teeth would be ready to fall out
from chattering, But the cattle would scamper
about mad, as if they were bitten by the fly; and
this would last until the sun rose over the hill.
The poor cattle from want of rest were pining
away, and food did them no good; besides, they
met with accidents without end. Never a night
passed that some of them did not fall into a pit,
and get maimed, or may be, killed. Some would
tumble into a river and be drowned: in a word,
there seemed never to be an end of the accidents.
But what made the matter worse, there could not
be a herdsman got to tend the cattle by night.
One visit from the fairy drove the stoutest-
hearted almost mad. The owner of the ground
did not know what to do. He offered double,
treble, quadruple wages, but not a man could be
found for the sake of money to go through the
horror of facing the fairy. She rejoiced at the
successful issue of her project, and continued her
pranks. The herd gradually thinning, and no
man daring to remain on the ground, the fairies
came back in numbers, and gambolled as merrily
as before, quaffing dew-drops from acorns, and
spreading their feast on the heads of capacious
mushrooms.
What was to be done? the puzzled farmer
thought In vain. He found that his substance
was daily diminishing, his people terrified, and
his rent day coming round. It is no wonder that
he looked gloomy, and walked mournfully down
the road. Now in that part of the world dwelt a
man of the name of Larry Hoolahan, who played
on the pipes better than any other player within
fifteen parishes. A roving dashing blade was
Larry, and feared nothing. Give him plenty of
liquor, and he would defy the devil. He would
face a mad bull, or fight single-handed against a
fair. In one of his gloomy walks the farmer met
him, and on Larry's asking the cause of his down
looks, he told him all his misfortunes, "If that
is all ails you," said Larry, "make your mind
easy. Were there as many fairies on Knocksheo-
gowna as there are potato blossoms in Eliogurty,
I would face them. It would be a queer thing,
indeed, if I, who never was afraid of a proper
man, should turn my back upon a brat of a fairy
not the bigness of one's thumb." " Larry," said
the farmer, "do not talk so bold, for you know
not who is hearing you; but, if you make your
words good, and watch my herds for a week on
the top of the mountain, your hand shall be free
of my dish till the sun has burnt itself down to
the bigness of a farthing rushlight."
The bargain was struck, and Larry went to the
hill-top, when the moon began to peep over the
brow. He had been regaled at the farmer's
house, and was bold with the extract of barley-
corn. So he took his seat on a big stone under
a hollow of the hill, with his back to the wind,
and pulled out his pipes. He had not played
long when the voice of the fairies was heard upon
the blast, like a slow stream of music. Presently
they burst out into a loud laugh, and Larry could
plainly hear one say, "what ! another man upon
the fairies' ring? Go to him, queen, and make
him repent his rashness;" and they flew away.
Larry felt them pass by his face as they flew like
a swarm of midges; and, looking up hastily, he
saw between the moon and him a great black cat,
standing on the very tip of its claws, with its back
up, and mewing with the voice of a water-mill.
Presently it swelled up towards the sky, and,
turning round on its left hind leg, whirled till it
fell to the ground, from which it started up in the
shape of a salmon, with a cravat round its neck,
and a pair of new top boots "Go on, jewel,"
said Larry; "if you dance, I'll pipe;" and he
struck up. So she turned into this, and that, and
the other, but still Larry played on, as he well knew
how. At last she lost patience, as ladies will do
when you do not mind their scolding, and changed
herself into a calf; milk-white as the cream of
Cork, and with eyes as mild as those of the girl
I love. She came up gentle and fawning, in hopes
to throw him off his guard by quietness, and then
to work him some wrong. But Larry was not so
deceived; for when she came up, he, dropping
his pipes, leaped upon her back.
Now from the top of Knocksheogowna, as you
look westward to the broad Atlantic, you will see
the Shannon, queen of rivers, " spreading like a
sea," and running on in gentle course to mingle
with the ocean through the fair city of Limerick.
It on this night shone under the moon, and looked
beautiful from the distant hill. Fifty boats were
gliding up and down on the sweet current, and
the song of the fishermen rose gaily from the
shore. Larry, as I said before, leaped upon the
back of the fairy, and she, rejoiced at the oppor--
tunity, sprung from the hill-top, and bounded
clear, at one jump, over the Shannon, flowing as
it was just ten miles from the mountain's base.
It was done in a second, and when she alighted
on the distant bank, kicking up her heels, she
flung Larry on the soft turf. No sooner was he
thus planted. than he looked her straight in the
face, and scratching his head, cried out, "By my
word, well done ! that was not a bad leap for a
calf !"
She looked at him for a moment, and then as-
sumed her own shape. " Laurence," said she,
you are a bold fellow ; will you come back the
way you went?" " And that's what I will." said
he, " if you let me" So changing to a calf again,
again Larry got on her back, and at another bound
they were again upon the top of Knocksheogowna.
The fairy once more resuming her figure, ad-
dressed him: "You have shown so much courage,
Laurence," said she, "that while you keep herds
on this hill you never shall be molested by me or
mine. The day dawns, go down to the farmer,
and tell him this; and if any thing I can do may
be of service to you, ask and you shall have it."
She vanished accordingly; and kept her word in
never visiting the hill during Larry's life: but he
never troubled her with requests. He piped and
drank at the farmer's expense, and roosted in his
chimney corner, occasionally casting an eye to
the flock. He died at last, and is buried in a
green valley of pleasant Tipperary: but whether
the fairies returned to the hill of Knocksheogowna(1)
after his death is more than I can say.
(1)Knocksheogowna signifies "The Hill of the Fairy
Calf."