It is hard to have anything to do with the good people without getting
a mark from them. My brave nurse didn’t escape no more than another.
She was one Thursday at the market of Enniscorthy, when what did she see
walking among the tubs of butter but the Dark Man, very hungry-looking,
and taking a scoop out of one tub and out of another. ‘Oh, sir,’ says
she, very foolish, ‘I hope your lady is well, and the baby.’ ‘Pretty
well, thank you,’ says he, rather frightened like. ‘How do I look in
this new suit?’ says he, getting to one side of her. ‘I can’t see you
plain at all, sir,’ says she. ‘Well, now?’ says he, getting round her
back to the other side. ‘Musha, indeed, sir, your coat looks no
better than a withered dock-leaf.’ ‘Maybe, then,’ says he, ‘it will be
different now,’ and he struck the eye next him with a switch. Friends,
she never saw a glimmer after with that one till the day of her death.
‘Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts,’ by Patrick Kennedy.
A Lost Paradise
In the middle of a great forest there lived a long time ago a
charcoal-burner and his wife. They were both young and handsome and
strong, and when they got married, they thought work would never fail
them. But bad times came, and they grew poorer and poorer, and the
nights in which they went hungry to bed became more and more frequent.
Now one evening the king of that country was hunting near the
charcoal-burner’s hut. As he passed the door, he heard a sound of
sobbing, and being a good-natured man he stopped to listen, thinking
that perhaps he might be able to give some help.
‘Were there ever two people so unhappy!’ said a woman’s voice. ‘Here we
are, ready to work like slaves the whole day long, and no work can we
get. And it is all because of the curiosity of old mother Eve! If she
had only been like me, who never want to know anything, we should all
have been as happy as kings to-day, with plenty to eat, and warm
clothes to wear. Why--’ but at this point a loud knock interrupted her
lamentations.
‘Who is there?’ asked she.
‘I!’ replied somebody.
‘And who is “I”?’
‘The king. Let me in.’
Full of surprise the woman jumped up and pulled the bar away from the
door. As the king entered, he noticed that there was no furniture in
the room at all, not even a chair, so he pretended to be in too great
a hurry to see anything around him, and only said ‘You must not let me
disturb you. I have no time to stay, but you seemed to be in trouble.
Tell me; are you very unhappy?’
‘Oh, my lord, we can find no work and have eaten nothing for two days!’
answered she. ‘Nothing remains for us but to die of hunger.’
‘No, no, you shan’t do that,’ cried the king, ‘or if you do, it will be
your own fault. You shall come with me into my palace, and you will feel
as if you were in Paradise, I promise you. In return, I only ask one
thing of you, that you shall obey my orders exactly.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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