was worn at the time, and faith, you should be big before you would get them same.-Howisever, he started one day for Limerick would [with] and ass and car, to bring home leather and other little things he wanted. He did not return that night or the next, nor the next. Begor, the wife and some frinds went to Limerick next day, but no trace of the husband could be found. I forgot to tell you that the third morning after he was gone the wife rose very early, and there at the dure [door] was the ass and car. The whole country was searched, up high and low down, but no trace. Weeks, monts and years came and went, but he never turned up.

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Now the wife kept on a little business, sellin' nick-nacks to support herself, and a son, that grew to be a fine strapping man, as I hear um say, the picture of his father. Now, sir, the bɔy was in or about twenty, when one day, himself and his mother were atin' their dinner, whin in comes a man and says, “God save ye!" And you too," says the mother. "Will you sit down, sir?" She gev him a stool and he sat down. "Will you ate a spud, sir?" says she. He rached for the spud, and in doin' so the sleeve of his coat shortned as he reached out his hand. He had a mole on his wrist and she see it, and her husband had one in the same spot. "Good God!" says she, "are you John M‘Namara ? "—for that was his name." I am," says he," and your husband, and that's my son, but I can't tell you for some time where I was since I left you. But some time I might have the power, but not now." Well, lo and behold you, in a week's time he started to work, and the boots he made were a surprise to the whole country round, and I believe he lived for nine or ten years ater that, but he never tould her or any one where he was, but of course everybody knew that 'twas wood [with] the good people.-Told by JOHN KELLY, Cooraclare? Co. Clare.

Balaha, how it got the Name.

If you want to know how it got the name, I'll tell you. Years upon years ago, there wus three sisters lived in a big house, down near the shore. They never made free wid any body, but always

kept in themselves. The ouldist people in the parish couldn't tell anything about um. They never left the house, and the ouldist ov um was called Breedogue, although no one knew what their names wus. One day there wus great Shanocus [party] mongst the people; for the night before there was three men, on three grand horses, seen making for the house. All the night there was great singing and music, but when the mornin' came, there was a big lough where the house was, and I often heard the ould people say that 'twas seen, but there was never any trace of Breedogue, or her sisters, or the horsemen after. But there was often great nise heard arount the spot. So that's the rasen 'twas called Balaha or Bid of the lough. She was supposed to be a witch. The Lord save us !-Told by Mrs. CONWAY, 86 years old, between Kilkee and Doonbeg.

The Tailor.

There was a namesake of mine lived about here years ago. He was a tailor. Bawneens and flannel waistcoats was the chief thing worn then. He was very poor, but very good, and many a poor man and woman he used to lodge in his house, and indeed there was not much tay drank at that time. One night a poor man called and got a night's lodging. Begor, next day the poor ould man wasn't able to travel and the tailor tould him to remain till he'd get better, but instead 'twas worse he got and died in a few days.

The neighbours gother a collection, and between um they burried the poor man. His oul chloes [clothes] were thrown. out in the haggard, but one day the tailor was makin' a coat, and he sent the son out for the oul man['s] coat, to get a piece of it for sacking the collar of the one he was makin'. 'Twas all pieces and patches, but I tell you 'twas worth money, for the very minit he put the scissors to it, out drops a goold guiney. Twas no mown [no knowen', no knowing] what money wis in the coat.

He went away to America, himself and his family, and took a big house, and had a lot of men workin' for him. I am sure 'twas that that gave him the name of Golden. I am some very

far relation of his, too; but where ever and of his childer or gran'childer is now, I never heard.-Told by THOMAS GOLDEN, Cree, Co. Clare.

Believe in Fairies.

Bleve in um, throth, I have rason to bleve in um! My mother's father had a brother, that was my gran'uncle at the mother's side-God be good to um all! Well, when he was about three or four monts ould, his mother was in bed and asleep, 'twould be about 12 o'clock at night, when she woke wud a start and just had time to grasp the child round the body, for there, long side the bed, was a little man, having the child be the arm. "'Twas well you woke," says he, “but we have part of him." Sur enuf, the arm that was cot [caught] never grew a bit bigger than 'twas that night; although he grew to be a man, he was never right in himself. I have that from my mother-God rest her soul!—and I wouldn't tell a lie of her soul.-Told by MRS. CURTIN, Tullycrine, near Kilrush.

Taken by the Good People.

I was serving my time to the cattle trade, with a man the name of Lynch-God be good to him! I suppose I was no more than twelve years of age at the time. 'Twas a very out of the way place and mountainy. Well, not far from my master's house there was a family of the Brogans. 'Twas the will of God that Mrs. Brogan took sick, and there was a baby born, but the poor woman died. Well, the sister, a younger girl than the woman that died, came to nurse the child. After some time she began to look very delicate and uneasy. The naghbours were beginning to talk amongs themselves about her, and it came to Brogan's ears, and, begor, it made him vexed. So he asked the sister what was up with her. "Well, John," says she, "I did not like to tell you, but Ellie "—that was the name of the dead woman-" comes every night, and takes the baby and nurses it, and goes away without a word." "By my word," says John," she is not dead at all, but taken, and I will watch her to-night." Good enough, he remained up, and about

12 o'clock in she came, and he put his arms around her, but as he said, felt no substance.

"You can't keep me now," says she, " for I'm married agin; but if you come to the Bottle Hill field to-morrow night, there will be about 40 of us goin' t'words Blarney, and we will all be on horses, with our husbands. All the horses will be white, and I and my man will be last. Bring a hazel stick woud [with] you and strike the horse on the right side, and I will fall off. Just as I fall, ketch me with all your might. You will know my man, for he is the only one of them that has a red head."

Well, he went, and he must have a great heart, for on they come, gallopin' like mad. Just as the man with the red head's horse came he stood one-side and struck. She fell and he gripped her like iron. Well, such a hullabaloo as there was, was never heard, and all the other men makin' game of the red-headed

man.

Well, he brought her home, and they lived for years after, and had a good family, and were the happiest people around the place. I often see some of her children; of course they are all married now, and gone here and there, but that's as true as my name is Tim Brosnan.-Told by TIM BROSNAN, Dungeagan, Co. Kerry.

The Cat.

There is at present living in C- -h the subject of this, which I am going to tell you, a fine, decent and sensible woman ; you could be talking to her for twelve months, and a bad word about her neighbour you would not hear from her. Well, one night about 8 years ago, she was taking a walk out the road, and she did not notice until the evening began to grow a bit dark. Well, she came to a place called Caherelly, where there is a fort, and an old ruin, and outside the ruin there is a bit of a wall. As she came near the wall, she noticed what she thought was a small cat or pusheen, and as she approached, the cat came of a jump down on the ground, and began to get big, until it got that big that it blocked the road. The fright she got caused her to faint, and there she remained until a man, with a

poney and trap, was passing, and brought her home. I know that from that night, for over twelve months after, she was out of her mind, and knew nobody. 'Tis only about two years since she began to do business, as she done before this happened. The place had always an airy [queer] name and 'tis very few that would like to pass it after night fall.

She is alive, and as well as ever now, thank God! and likely to live for years, and has a fine family of sons and daughters, and doing a good business in the village.-Told by MARTIN KENNEDY, Highpark, Co. Limerick.

The Dead Hunt.

Now this occurred only about fifty years ago. The Cahirconlish domain, as 'tis called, but is now in allotments, was owened by a man named Wilson, a good man, as I hear, for he used to give the tenants around the place the hay for nothing, but to cut and save it themselves.

Well, there was one man, the name of Hannan, who got about an acre or so, and the time being busy with the harvest, he used to rise early and cut it, and then, when his day was down in his other employment, he would go at it agin.

Well, sir, 'twas a splendid night in August and the moon was shining grand, when Tom Hannan woke, and says to his wife: "I think I'll get up and finish that bit of hay." So up he gets and goes to the spot where the hay was.

He was not long there, when he heard the tramping of horses, and the howling of dogs. "It must be late," says he," I suppose they are going to Limerick," when all of a sudden hundreds of horses and men came into the place where he was. He ran and got under a cock of hay, and he thought he would be tramped to death every minute, for they were that near him that he could hear the creaking of the saddles.

When all was quiet again, he crawled out and across the road on his hands and knees, and knocked at the lodge door. The tenant at the time was James Murnane, he opened the door, and was surprised to see Tom so early. He happened to have a drop in the house, or 'twould be the last of Tom. So he up