Still another origin for the Irish lakes is found in Mayo, where Lough Carra is attributed to a certain "giont," by name unknown, who formerly dwelt in the neighborhood, and, with one exception, found everything necessary for comfort and convenience. He was a cleanly "giont," and desirous of performing his ablutions regularly and thoroughly. The streams in the neighborhood were ill adapted to his use, for when he entered any one of them for bathing purposes "bad scran to the wan that ’ud take him in furder than to the knees." Obviously this was not deep enough, so one day when unusually in need of a bath and driven desperate by the inadequacy of the means, "he spit an his han’s an’ went to work an’ made Lough Carra. ’Bedad,’ says he, ’I’ll have a wash now,’ an’ so he did," and doubtless enjoyed it, for the lake is deep and the water clear and pure. Just below Lough Carra is Lough Mask, a large lake between Mayo and Galway. Concerning its origin, traditionary authorities differ, some maintaining that the lake was the work of fairies, others holding that it was scooped out by a rival of the cleanly gigantic party already mentioned, a theory apparently confirmed by the fact that it has no visible outlet, though several streams pour into it, its waters, it is believed, escaping by a subterranean channel to Lough Corrib, thence to the sea. Sundry unbelievers, however, stoutly assert a conviction that "it’s so be nacher entirely an’ thim that says it’s not is ignerant gommochs that don’t know," and in the face of determined scepticism the question of the origin of the lake must remain unsettled. Thus far, indeed, it is painful to be compelled to state that scarcely one of the narratives of this chapter passes undisputed among the veracious tradition-mongers of Ireland. Like most other countries in this practical, poetry-decrying age, the Emerald Isle has scientists and sceptics, and among the peasants are found many men who have no hesitation in proclaiming their disbelief in "thim owld shtories," and who even openly affirm that "laigends about fairies an’ giants is all lies complately." In the face of this growing tendency towards materialism and the disposition to find in natural causes an explanation of wonderful events, it is pleasant to be able to conclude this chapter with an undisputed account of the origin of Lough Ree in the River Shannon, the accuracy of the information being in every particular guaranteed by a boatman on the Shannon, "a respectable man," who solemnly asseverated "Sure, that’s no laigend, but the blessed truth as I’m livin’ this minnit, for I’d sooner cut out me tongue be the root than desave yer Anner, when every wan knows there’s not a taste av a lie in it at all."