Bonfires with guys (burning the

I bout de l'an transferred from

Dec. 31), introduced of late years Guernsey.

(To be continued.)

COLLECTANEA.

NOTES ON IRISH FOLKLORE.

(Continued from Vol. XXVII. p. 426.)

Legends of Ardmore, Co. Waterford.

THE legends and superstitions that cluster round the venerable and beautiful ruins of Ardmore Abbey, with its Round Tower and the halo of sanctity which illuminates the memory of its saintly founder and his learned successors, are most quaint, but no doubt have already been collected and printed. Nevertheless it may be well to set down very shortly the beliefs which not many years ago caused crowds of the country people to collect on the patron day at the pretty seaside place, and bring their sick people and those who were in trouble to the holy places to be rid of their griefs, whether of mind or body.

ment.

St. Declan was the founder of the original ecclesiastical settleThe Round Tower of Ardmore is unique among all others for being ornamented by a series of three string courses. St. Declan miraculously built the basal portion in one night, in the second night he raised it to the second string course, and on the third he carried it to the third. But an old woman would not give the saint any credit for this "tour de force," and cried out, "Will you never be done?" and St. Declan immediately completed the final portion of the structure and finished the whole. with the conical cap, which is still perfect.

The saint on one occasion went on a pilgrimage to Rome, and on his return, when the ship was approaching Ardmore, some gigantic pagans attempted to prevent his landing and ran out into the sea in a threatening manner; whereupon St. Declan turned

them into rocks, and they are there to this day, and form a reef where formerly was a secure landing-place.

Another phenomenon happened on this occasion, evidence of which still remains in the shape of a large glacial boulder resting on an outcrop of the local rocks on the shore. This erratic, evidently foreign to the neighbourhood, had been swimming patiently after the ship all the way from Italy; but "a stern chase" is well known to be a "long chase," and so it never overtook the saint, but followed in his wake to Ardmore and lodged itself safely on a ridge near the ship, crying out "The Clerk forgot the Bell" ("Dearmhad an chléirigh ar an chlog"), and sure enough they found upon it his bell and his vestments that had been left behind at Rome! This holy stone, as it is called, works miracles of healing; both to those that rub their backs against it, but more especially to those that creep under it in the hollow between the two supporting ribs of rock. But if anyone attempts this cure wearing a stolen garment or having unabsolved sins on their conscience, the stone presses down and prevents their passage through.

The practice of creeping beneath stones is exemplified in an old churchyard beside L. Gill, near Col. Wood Martin's place. Here is a tombstone under which childless women creep who wish to become mothers.

Colloquial Phrases.

If you enter a dairy or any place where an industry is going on it is not right to praise the results without first saying "God bless the work" or "God bless you." (In the south of Ireland.)

And among the upper classes, I was told in Co. Waterford, it was the habit if you praised anything to touch wood of any sort at once, or commence the remark by saying "o' good time be it spoken," etc.

This superstition seems on all fours with the expression of "tempting Providence" in its underlying apprehension of an evil result from a malign power.

Water Horses and other Monsters.

There are two small lakes in the neighbourhood of Mohill, Co. Leitrim, which I have been often assured contain water horses— Drumdart L. and one near Drumard. These are generally seen grazing on the shore in the early morning before people are astir, and when disturbed throw themselves into the lake and disappear.

When I visited Coole Park, Lady Gregory's place near Gort, I was told by a gamekeeper that not long since his father, early one morning coming down to the lake from the high ground, saw on the side of a hedge on the lake shore a short stout animal grazing, just like a thick-set horse of moderate size. He managed to get very near it before it took alarm, and throwing itself into the water disappeared into its depths. My informant, a very intelligent man, asked if I could tell him if there was any such fresh-water animal known, or if what his father had seen was supernatural.

References to the Scottish Gaelic folklore of water horses are given in the note on Tale VIII. of No. III. Argyleshire series of Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition (David Nutt, London). It is described as similar to a real horse, except its wild staring eyes, slimy skin, and webbed feet. He sometimes grazes on the lake margin and tempts the wayfarer to get on his back, upon which he plunges into the depths, and feasts upon the unhappy rider. Seen in the day-time the water horse is a black ùsp or shapeless mass moving through the water, but at the setting of the sun or before sunrise he ventures out on the land.

Should one be killed, nothing is left but a pool of water; if buried, it gives rise to a spring!

Lake Coomshinaun, Co. Waterford.

Here an extraordinary phenomenon can be witnessed every seven years. A huge mass of some sort rises high above the water, no matter how calm the day, and then after a short time falls back with an enormous splash, making a commotion over the whole surface of the lake.

The Master Eel.

At a lake not very far from Mohill, Co. Leitrim, the following occurrence is said to have taken place.

The son of a farmer living alongside of its margin used to lay night lines for pike. But early one morning he went to examine his lines, and on trying to draw one of them in a monstrous eel with a mane hanging behind his head rose out of the water, and followed him over the land almost to his house, then turning back broke the line and dived to the bottom of the lake.

A story very circumstantially told lately appeared in the papers of a man being chased by a monstrous eel near Wattle Bridge on the Upper L. Erne.

Leprechauns and Loughrey-men.

In Monaghan and Tyrone the little dwarf sprites that frequent ancient woodlands and wild waste lands are called by the latter

name.

The little wood of Creaghan, beside Favour Royal, belonging to me, which is a remnant of the old oak forest land of the country, is notoriously the resort of these "gentry." One of my employés, cutting scollops for thatch about the year 1860, stooping down with his knife in hand almost touched one that was sitting in the centre of the tuft of young shoots. Horridly scared at the little wizened face peering up at him crowned with a red pointed cap, he jumped back and cried out to his fellow. The two then returned, but, of course, the loughrey-man had vanished, for if you take your eyes off them they disappear in a moment. But the woodman assured me that they found "his little nest still warm in the heart of the bush." A woodkeeper also told me that he had himself never met with one, but frequently heard them walking alongside him in the evening, but hidden by the foliage.

At Lemaculla, about half-a-mile from Drumreaske, Co. Monaghan, a woman lived, named Mary M'Kenna. One day, returning to her cottage in full daylight (she lived alone), she saw a little loughrey-man sitting at the fire with a small pot in his hand full of gold pieces, which he was counting. He was