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'Twas Haunted.


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As I said, this occurred to me gran'uncle at the mother's side. Him and me gran'father were goin' to a fair, for fear of tellin' a like [lie], I think 'twas to Limerick. Of coorse there was no trains at that time, an' they started, about tin o'clock, I suppose they got a drop on the road, but anyhow, whin they came as far as Stonehall comin' home that night, they heard grate [great] noise in front of um. "Stop," says me gran'father, "there must be a crowd of tinkers." "what can they do to us? So on they wint, and they could see the people before them, an' hear the talking, but no sound of feet, and there were men and women, crowds of um. "Blasht them!" says me gran'uncle, “they have no brogues on um. Come on and pass um!" They came near enuff [enough] to touch um, but try as hard as they could, they couldn't pass um. My gran'uncle sez, "Get your stick ready." But just as he said it he was surrounded. Well, as he tould us after, he could feel no hands on him, nor anything, but could not get away. Me gran'father came home early in the mornin', but had no account of me gran'uncle. But after a week, one night in walks im, and you'd think he was dead for a year. He was kep as [kept in] a fort, as he tould us, and had to work hard for the week. He could see nothing to keep him from coming out, but there was somethin' alway aginst him, when he would come to the edge of the fort. He was never the same man after, God rest his soul! As he often said, if they passed without sayin' anythin', they were all right.-Told by MR. ASHE, near Ballyhahill.

Yerra, come on," says the other,

The Unfinished Chapel, Clonkeen.

I'm goin' to tell you 'tis there to be seen to the present day, a churchyard called Clonkeen, in Abington, Co. Limerick. There was a friary, and all the friars were hunted out of it in the Cromwellian times. They going left their blessing to Abington. In the graveyard, there is a structure of stone in the form of a chapel. In one night it appeared, and a woman who was going to Limerick, in the early hours of the morning, see the

men working. She, passing, said, "Ye have a good dale [deal] done without saying, God bless you!" They were at the time near the roofing. The structure remains to-day to be seen, unroofed, as they left it on that night. No structure was there the night before, and it was built to the present position on the next morning.-Told by R. RAHILLY, Abbington.

Cusheen Hill, Clare.

I remember to hear of them, by the ould people, that often they used to see them in hunders in the fields.

Do you see that big white house on the hill? Well, sir, in oulden times there was a big gentleman living there, and he used to keep hounds, and hosses, and servants galore. There was one nice girl there, as house maid, and the coachman, a fine young fella, was courtin' her. But in thim times the pay was small, and he did not like to marry her, till he had money enuff to give her a dacent home. Well, one night he was goin' home, 'twas late, and up on that fort, above, he heard great wailin'. 'Some one is in trouble," says he, " and I'll relieve them if I can." So up he goes, and what was it but a whole team of the good people. There was a big tree lyin' across their dancing ring, and the craturs couldn't lift it. When they see him, they axed him to remove it, and so he did. Then the king says to him, "I will give you any wish you like, for what youre after doin'." "Well," says he, "there is a girl up at the big house, and I'd like to marry her, but I haven't the manes to support her." "Well," says the fairies, "don't go to work to-morra; but sind word that you are sick, and the gentleman and his wife and daughter will be goin' to Kilkee, and they will have the groom drivin' them. Come here about 8 o'clock, and as they are passin', the horse will take head; you need not be afraid, but jump, and ketch the reins, and lave the rest to us." Begor, he done as they tould him, and just as he was passin', down comes the horse tanteevy. But just as they were all likely to be killed, he jumps and ketches the reins. The gentleman asks him what reward he would like, and he tells him about the girl.

"I will give you for life 2 pound a week and the lodge to live in, and will pay all expenses of your marriage."

So he got married and spent a happy lovin' life and his children after him were with the gentleman's heir, until things got bad all over the country. There's some of his friends and relations in Cusheen still.-Told by MICK O'BRIEN, aged 82, Cusheen, Co. Clare.

A Fight with a Ghost.

'Tis up to fourscore years now since id happened. There was two great men at every game: hurling, runnin', jumpin', and boxin', trowin waits, [throwing weights] and they could not bate one another. One was Patcheen Vasey and th' other was Thomas Magner. Well, they were at all the sport in the country, but they were still no better than one another.

Well, 'twas the will of God that Vasey got sick, and Magner cum to see him. "How are you, Pat?" says Magner. “I think my sportin' days are over, Tom," says Pat. Well, they spoke of all the jumping and wrastling they ever had, and says Pat," Tom, we will meet agin." "I hope so," says Tom, " in a better world, with God's help."


They wished good-bye to one another, and, God rest his sow!! that night poor Vasey died. But accordin' to what I'm goin to tell you, his poor sowl wasn't aisey, for he was seen at the corner by a good many, a few nights after. Well, Magner was comin' from Carrigaholt fair one night, about three weeks after Vasey dine [died], when, comin' near the cross, his hair stood of an ind, for who was standin' there but Vasey. "The Lord preserve us!" says Magner. "Is that you, Pat?" 'Tis, Tom," says Pat," and you must fight me." Fight a ghost! says Tom. "Yes," says the ghost, squarin' before him. Tom, nothin' daunted, squared up too, an' meela murther! the fight began. Well, to make a long story short, Tom was found in the mornin', black and blue, beside the road, and he would be dead, only the ghost had to lave when the cock crew, as Tom tould before he died, for he never overed the bating, but lingered for about three monts, when he died; and that corner is to this


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day called the Ghost's Corner, and a lonesome place it is of a night. God rest both of them now, that they may be in peace! -Told by JAMES KELLY, Tullaroe (?), Co. Clare.

The Ould Hare.

When I was a little girl, 'twas out near Loop Head I live. Well, there was an owl woman lived in a small little cabin by herself, and all the nabors around used to be in dread of her; they said she was chanted (?) [haunted]. No one knew how she lived, for she never left the cabin in the day, but they said she used to go out through the fields at night. Nearly every week some of the nabors' milk would be gone, and if it wasn't, if they were churnin' for a month, 'twouldn't make butter.

One, a man the name of Shawn Teigue Mack said he would know if 'twas she that was taking the butter. So he watched all night at the cabin, and about twelve o'clock he saw a hare cum out of the house. The very minit it saw Shawn, away would it across the field, but Shawn fired, and struck it in the shoulder. Begor, the next morning trucks [tracks] of blood was seen along the road to the cabin. What did Shawn do, but call to the cabin, and the door was barred from inside. But he shoved in the windy, and sure enuff, there was the owl dame, and all her shoulder wrapped up in calico. She left the place shortly after, for she knew she was found out, and no one ever missed butter or milk after.-Told by KATE VASEY, Moveen, Co. Clare.

The Mile Stone, how it got the Name.

That stone was lying for years about two miles from Ventry, on the side of the road. Well, they were goin' to have a foot race between two great runners, one from Ventry, th' other from Dingle. The race was four miles, and they wanted to mark the distance. There was a cusin of one of the runners, powerful strong, and as they were walking to measure the distance, they cums to this big stone, when Mick Sugrue, that was his name, I'm descended from him, lifts this stone and carries it, to do as a mark, until they comes adin [within] a mile of Dingle. He leans

over the ditch, and slaps down the stone, and there it is till this day, and the weight of that stone is about two ton. So that's the way it got the name of the Mile Stone.-Told by JOHN SUGRUE, a native of Kerry.

The Child that came back.

There was a woman lived near us in Frure, outside Kilkee. Well, 'twas the will of God she had a child, an' a finer boy there wasn't in the parish, until he was about a year ould, but after that he began to pine away. Well, he lived to be about 3 years, and from the time he began to pine, the mother often woke at night and found him out of bed. Well, when he began to talk, the speech he made use of was quare and bad. He used to go up to the loft to where the gran'mother used to sleep, and sthale [steal] the dudeen [pipe] from under her head. She often wandered, why the pipe would always be imty [empty] in mornin', until one night she woke, and there was the buachal [boy], goin down the ladder, and the pipe stuck in his gob.

She tould the mother next mornin' about id, and the father put down a big fire that night. "Come now," says he to the lad, "in there you go ov you don't tell me where my son is." Begor, he swore and cursed, that he was his son, but the husband couth hould [caught hold] of him and was putting him in, when he says: Let me go, and you will have your son in the mornin." They thought not to sleep that night, but they did; but when the mother woke, she was surprised to find alongside her a fine boy, and the picture of the father, I have it from people that see him.-Told by ELLEN MURRINAN, Frure.

Twenty Years with the Good People.

I had a gran'uncle, he was a shoemaker; he was only about 3 or 4 months married. I'm up to fourscore now. Well, God rest all their souls, for they are all gone, I hope to a better world! Well, sir, he says to his wife, and a purty girl she was, as I hear um say, the fortune wasn't very big but 'twould buy him a good bit of leather, and I might tell you, 'twas all brogues that

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