"’Don’t you daar to spake that-a-way to me, Sorr,’ she says to him. ’I’ll have ye know I won’t take a word av yer impidince. Me fathers wore crowns ages afore yer bogthrottin’ grandfather come to this island, an’ ivery wan knows he was the first av his dirthy thribe that had shoes an his feet.’ An’ she walked strait up to him an’ folded her arrums an’ looked into his face as impidint as a magpie. ’Don’t think fur to bully me,’ she says. ’I come av a race that niver owned a coward, and I wouldn’t give that fur you an’ all the big soords ye cud carry,’ says she, givin’ her fingers a snap right at the end av his nose. "Now the owld haythen niver had anny wan to spake like that to him, an’ at first was that surprised like as a horse had begun fur to convarse at him, no more cud he say a word, he was that full o’ rage, and sat there, openin’ and shuttin’ his mouth an’ swellin’ up like he’d burst, an’ his face as red as a turkey-cock’s. Thin he remimbered his soord ah’ pulled it out an’ stratched out his hand fur to ketch the quane an’ cut aff her head. But she was too quick for him entirely, an’ whin he had the soord raised, she said the charm that was to purtect her, an’ afore ye cud wink, there stood the blood-suckin’ owld villin, mortified to shtone wid his arrum raised an’ his hand reached out, an’ as stiff as a mast. "Thin she said the other charm that called the inchanter an’ he come at wanst. She towld him phat she done an’ he said it was right av her, an’ as she was a purty smart woman he said he’d marry her himself. So he did, an’ bein’ that the island was cursed be rayzon av the king’s crimes, they come to Ireland wid all the payple. So they come to Connemara, an’ the inchanter got husbands fur all the king’s wives an’ homes fur all the men av the island. But he inchanted the island an’ made it so that the bad king must live in it alone as long as the sun rises an’ sits. No more does the island stand still, but must go thravellin’ up an’ down the coast, an’ wan siven years they see it in Kerry an’ the next siven years in Donegal, an’ so it goes, an’ always will, beways av a caution to kings not to cut aff the heads av their wives." [Illustration: "Howlin’ wid rage"] HOW THE LAKES WERE MADE. [Illustration: Initial: "How the Lakes were made"]