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some old moss-covered walls. There were the remains of a fire-place, and of an old window, out of which, as the finishing touch to its desolation, a fox in perfect keeping might have looked. "This was the apartment of Father Denis O'Mahony, here he lived and died in that recess he kept his crucifix-here was his place of prayer, and there he slept. Oh, Sir, it is a sacred and sanctified spot!"

Well, Cornelis, and did any one, since Father Dennis died, reside here?" "Why yes, Sir; one Darby Riordan came here, and lit up his fire on the hearth; he thought to make the Saint's place his own, and boil his praties here. He, as proud as a freeholder, brought his pig and his cow here; and the cock that crew on his dung-hill was not more stout than he, the day he wanted to make Gougan Barry his estate: but this did not last long; never could he get a wink of sleep from the moment the night fell. The most terrible clatters, and outlandish sounds were heard through the whole island; calves were heard bleating on the tops of the ash

trees-pigs were heard squeeling, as if they were a squeezing under the gate--and cats caterwawled from the middle of the old apple tree; in short the man could get no rest, and so he was forced to pack up and begone: and to be sure, no one, from that day to this, dared to take a night's lodging in Gougan Barry." "It is, then, a quiet consecrated place," said I;-"O yes, Sir; no bad thing can stop or stay in it; safe from all evil things, man, baste, ghost, or devil: and I'll tell you the reason: While Father Denis was living here, he was fond of a fresh egg, when it was not black lent, or fasting day; and still the good Father could keep neither cock nor hen on the island: whenever the neighbours brought his Reverence a laying hen, or a clutch of chickens, next morning they were sure to be gone, and nobody could tell what became of the fowl. So Father Denis was resolved to be revenged; and one evening before the sun set, he stood at the entrance of the island, and book in hand, he pronounced, in sacred Latin, a curse, the echo

of which rattled like a hail shower through the hills and sure as you are standing there, next morning a great dog-fox, as big as Squire Barry's greyhound, was found dead on the pass yonder, that led us into the island and from that day until now, the farmers' wives, in Autumn time, when the fowl may do damage to the ripening corn, send, from all the country round, their cocks, hens, and turkeys here, until the harvest is reaped."

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Conversing this way, we entered another nook, or enclosure, where lay a log of a tree, apparently one of the decayed ash trees, with which the island abounds-it had no perceptible bark on it; but there were the marks of nails and other instruments, by which the bark was carefully taken off.

"Had your honor ever the tooth ache?" asked my communicative attendant-" Oft, and too often, indeed." "Well, then, it

is your own fault if ever you crack a groan over an ould tooth again; for the bark of this tree is a sartain remedy against it."

"Well, but Cornelis, I see no bark on it.” "Oh, then, may be I won't be after scraping a bit for your honour" So after turning and tossing about the old log, at length the good-natured fellow found me a bit of bark. "And now, Sir, here it is; put it in your pocket-book, and whenever your jaw troubles you, make an act of faith, think of Gougan Barry, say five Aves and one Paterand you will sleep that night as sound as a trout under a bank."

"Ah! now your honour, before you leave Gougan Barry, don't take it at all into consideration, that because the bishop and the priest, God bless their reverences, have taken prejudice against it, that therefore the less good is done by the rounds-no such thing at all, at all-as I am a sinner, forty times as many miracles and cures are a-doing by the blessed rounds and water of the place as ever. Why, it is not long ago since an old woman came here from Carberry as blind as a beetle-she came down here with a little cropped coley dog leading her-I myself saw

the people directing the poor dark crathur as she went the rounds-I saw her dip her white and scummy eyes in the well, and up I saw her come, thankful to God and the saints -her two eyes as bright as the dew drop on a black thorn-and then she took the string off of her little dog Shawn's neck, and it was so nathral to see her kissing Shawn, and the poor dumb baste licking her eyes.—' Shawn,' says she, 'I want you no longer, I could now go all the way home to Carberry without you-but come along Shawn, follow me now as I followed you; as long as these eyes can light my fingers at the spinning wheel, you shall my own Shawneen, lie on Nancy's blanket and share her praty.' Then your honour, listen to what came to pass but the other day, at the minister's of Inchigeela; he had a little maid, a gay little tidy thing she was when she went to sarvice with him she was full of life and frolic as a kid in April. She was not with him long until she got fairy-struck-she pined and withered away to nothing, as I may say :-one side was dead

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