THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Elizabeth Preston Ward 
 
 ±n memory of 
 Jean Versfelt Preston 
 
 ScTiboI cf Information & 
 ybrary Science Library 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00025764218 
 
Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
THE 
 
 Little Cousin Series 
 
 (trade mark) 
 
 Each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plates in 
 
 tint. Cloth, 1 2mo, with decorative cover, 
 
 per volume, 60 cents 
 
 LIST OF TITLES 
 
 By Mary Hazelton Wade 
 
 (unless otherwise indicated) 
 
 Our Little African Cousin 
 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 
 
 By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 
 
 Our Little Arabian Cousin 
 
 By Blanche McManus 
 
 Our Little Armenian Cousin 
 
 By Constance F. Curlewis 
 
 Our Little Australian Cousin 
 Our Little Brazilian Cousin 
 
 By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 
 
 Our Little Brown Cousin 
 Our Little Canadian Cousin 
 
 By Elizabeth R. MacDonald 
 
 Our Little Chinese Cousin 
 
 By Isaac Taylor Headland 
 
 Our Little Cuban Cousin 
 Our Little Dutch Cousin 
 
 By Blanche McManus 
 
 Our Little Egyptian Cousin 
 
 By Blanche McManus 
 
 Our Little English Cousin 
 
 By Blanche McManus 
 
 Our Little Eskimo Cousin 
 Our Little French Cousin 
 
 By Blanche McManus 
 
 Our Little German Cousin 
 Our Little Greek Cousin 
 
 By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 
 
 L. C. PAGE 
 
 New England Building, 
 
 Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 
 Our Little Hindu Cousin 
 
 By Blanche McManus 
 
 Our Little Indian Cousin 
 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 Our Little Italian Cousin 
 Our Little Japanese Cousin 
 Our Little Jewish Cousin 
 Our Little Korean Cousin 
 
 By H. Lee M. Pike 
 
 Our Little Mexican Cousin 
 
 By Edward C. Butler 
 
 Our Little Norwegian Cousin 
 Our Little Panama Cousin 
 
 By H. Lee M. Pike 
 
 Our Little Philippine Cousin 
 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
 Our Little Russian Cousin 
 Our Little Scotch Cousin 
 
 By Blanche McManus 
 
 Our Little Siamese Cousin 
 Our Little Spanish Cousin 
 
 By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 
 
 Our Little Swedish Cousin 
 
 By Claire M. Coburn 
 
 Our Little Swiss Cousin 
 Our Little Turkish Cousin 
 
 & COMPANY 
 
 Boston, Mass. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://archive.org/details/ourlittleirishcoOOwade 
 
NORAH. 
 

 * Our Little Irish * 
 
 % Cousin * 
 
 * * 
 * * 
 
 * B y * 
 
 4* Mary Hazelton Wade 4* 
 
 * * 
 
 * * 
 
 ♦^ Illustrated by gL 
 
 * L. J. Bridgman * V 3 /^ 
 * * ^ 
 
 * 
 
 * — 4- 
 
 Boston 4 
 
 L. C. Page <fb° Company T 
 
 Publishers 4 
 
Copyright, 1904 
 By L. C. Page & Company 
 
 (incorporated) 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Published June, 1904 
 
 Fifth Impression, August, 1908 
 
Preface 
 
 You have often heard people speak of the 
 Emerald Isle. When you have asked where 
 it is and why it is so called, you have been 
 told it is only another name for that small 
 island to the northwest of the continent of 
 Europe called Ireland. 
 
 The rains there fall so often, and the sun 
 shines so warmly afterward, that Mother Na- 
 ture is able to dress herself in the brightest 
 and loveliest of colours. The people there 
 are cheerful and good-natured. They are 
 always ready to smile through their tears and 
 see the funny side of every hardship. 
 
 And, alas ! many things have happened to 
 cause their tears to flow. They have suffered 
 from poverty and hunger. Thousands of 
 them have been forced to leave parents and 
 
vi Preface 
 
 friends, and seek a living within the kindly 
 shores of America. 
 
 America is great, America is kind, they may 
 think, but oh ! for one look at the beautiful 
 lakes of Killarney ; oh ! for a walk over the 
 green fields and hills of the Emerald Isle. 
 And oh ! for the chance to gather a cluster 
 of shamrock, the emblem of dear old Erin. 
 
 The little Irish cousin, who has never left 
 her native land, may be poor, and sometimes 
 ragged, but her heart is warm and tender, and 
 she loves her country and her people with 
 a love that will never change, no matter 
 where she may travel or what fortune may 
 befall her. 
 

 Contents 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER 
 I. 
 
 NORAH 
 
 PAGR 
 I 
 
 II. 
 
 The Thunder-storm 
 
 
 
 14 
 
 III. 
 
 St. Patrick 
 
 
 
 32 
 
 IV. 
 
 Daniel O'Connell 
 
 
 
 44 
 
 V. 
 
 KlLLARNEY 
 
 
 
 54 
 
 VI. 
 
 Hallowe'en 
 
 
 
 ■ 7o 
 
 VII. 
 
 Fairies .... 
 
 
 
 80 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Blarney Castle 
 
 
 
 . 96 
 
List of Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Norah ....... Frontispiece 
 
 •« The driver stopped his car and asked 
 Norah how far it was to the Lakes of 
 
 Killarney " 1 6 
 
 Norah's Home 30 
 
 The Monument to Daniel O'Connell . . 52 
 
 Norah and Mollie at Lough Lean ... 62 
 
 Mollie and Her Father Visit Blarney Castle 100 
 
Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 NORAH 
 
 " Londonderry, Cork, and Kerry, 
 Spell that to me without a K." 
 
 " Can you do it now ? " said Norah, 
 laughing. 
 
 "Can I do it? Yes, easy enough, for I've 
 heard the riddle before. T-h-a-t. There, 
 Norah, you didn't catch me this time." 
 
 Molly laughed, too, as she spoke, and the 
 little girls went on dressing their rag dolls. 
 
 They were great friends, these two children 
 of Ireland, and, although they were ragged 
 and dirty most of the time, and neither of 
 
2 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 them owned hats or shoes, they were happy 
 as the day is long. And, when I say this, I 
 mean one of the longest days of Ireland, 
 which are very long indeed. 
 
 Norah had beautiful blue eyes and dark 
 auburn hair. Her teeth were like pearls and 
 her cheeks were rosy as the brightest sunset. 
 
 " She is a true daughter of Erin," thought 
 her mother, as she looked at the child. 
 " May God will that she grow up to be as 
 good as she is beautiful," she said to herself, 
 making the sign of the cross on her breast. 
 
 As for Molly, Norah's little playmate, her 
 hair was black as night. Many other lads 
 and lasses of Ireland have hair like that. It 
 is because, long years ago, before even the 
 Christ-child dwelt among men, Spaniards came 
 to the west coast of Ireland and settled among 
 the people there. 
 
 They gave their black hair and dark eyes to 
 the people already in the country, most of 
 
Norah 3 
 
 whom were fair in face, hair, and eyes. So it 
 happens that sometimes they now have dark 
 hair and blue eyes, and sometimes light hair 
 and dark eyes. 
 
 " Norah ! Norah, darlint ! Come and feed 
 the pigs," called her mother. " They are that 
 hungry they would eat the thatch off the 
 house if they could reach it." 
 
 Norah jumped up, and running home as 
 fast as her young feet could carry her, took 
 the dish of mush from her mother's hands. 
 She was instantly surrounded by a thin old 
 mother pig and her ten little ones. 
 
 They were cunning little things when they 
 were born, and Norah loved to hold them in 
 her arms and pet them. But they were big 
 enough now to root about in the mud, and 
 the little girl held them no longer. 
 
 " Oof! oof! " grunted the mother pig. 
 " Good ! good ! " was what she meant, of 
 course, as she swallowed her supper as quickly 
 
4 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 as possible, and the ten babies followed her 
 example. 
 
 Then Norah had to feed the ducks and 
 chickens, and her precious goat. 
 
 " I love it. Oh, I love it, next to father 
 and mother and the children," thought the 
 little girl. 
 
 " How much it knows, and how gentle it 
 is ! And what should we do without the 
 sweet, rich milk it gives us ! " she said, turn- 
 ing to Molly, who was helping her in her 
 work. 
 
 "It is a dear little creature" (Molly pro- 
 nounced it crayther), " but I love our pet 
 cow better. I suppose the reason is because 
 it is ours. But, good night till ye, Norah. I 
 must be after getting home." 
 
 Molly went running down the lane, while 
 Norah entered the house. 
 
 House ! It would hardly be fair to give 
 it such a grand name. It was a small stone 
 
Norah 5 
 
 hut, not much taller than Norah's father, with 
 a roof covered with mud and straw mixed 
 together. Such a roof is said to be thatched. 
 
 There was only one window in the hut, and 
 that was a small one. The door was divided 
 across the middle, and the upper part of it 
 stood wide open. Yet, as Norah stepped 
 inside, the air was thick and heavy with 
 smoke. 
 
 Over in one corner was a fireplace, and in it 
 cakes of dried peat were slowly burning. It 
 was the only kind of fuel Norah's mother had 
 to burn, so it was no wonder the air of the 
 room was smoky. 
 
 Do you know what peat is ? In Norah's 
 country there are many square miles of marshy 
 land covered with moss and grasses. If it 
 could speak to us, this land would tell a 
 wonderful story. 
 
 " Ages and ages ago," it would say, " great 
 forests of oak stood here. The trees grew 
 
 *i 
 
6 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 large and strong. But the rain fell often and 
 the air was very damp. This is the reason 
 mosses and other plants gathered on the 
 trunks and branches of the trees. They 
 sent their roots into the moist bark and fed 
 on the sap that should have nourished the trees. 
 
 " The great trees became weaker and 
 weaker as the years passed away, until at 
 last they sickened and died, and fell to the 
 ground. 
 
 " Fir-trees began to grow in the places of 
 the oaks. But they were treated in the same 
 manner. Their life-giving sap was taken by a 
 new growth of mosses. The fir-trees died, 
 and added to the great masses of decaying 
 wood which now covered the damp ground. 
 
 " Then plants grew up. But they met 
 with the same fate as the trees. 
 
 " Thousands and thousands of years passed 
 by. The beautiful forests that once covered 
 the land were slowly changed into peat." 
 
Norah 7 
 
 The peat-bogs are now so thick and heavy 
 that the poor of Ireland can dig twenty-five 
 feet into them and cut out squares of the solid 
 peat. 
 
 After drying them in the air and sunshine, 
 the people burn them in place of coal. This 
 queer fuel does not make as bright and clear a 
 fire as coal, but it is cheap, and keeps the poor 
 from suffering. 
 
 " Be patient and wait only a few more 
 thousands of years," the bogs would say to 
 us if they could, " and you may have coal 
 instead of peat. Father Time will make the 
 change without any work on your part." 
 
 But the people of Ireland cannot wait. 
 Most of them are very, very poor. They 
 live from day to day, glad if they have a roof 
 to cover their heads and food enough to keep 
 them from starving. 
 
 Norah's father hires the land for his little 
 farm from a rich lord who lives most of the 
 
8 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 year in England. The Irishman built the 
 little hut on this land for himself and wife, 
 and his family of growing children. 
 
 " What use would it be to spend much 
 time on it ? " he would say. " The better 
 I make the place, the more rent I shall have 
 to pay." 
 
 Every year he planted his patch of potatoes 
 and cabbages for himself, besides oats and 
 turnips and other things for his fowls and pigs 
 and goat. He mended the thatched roof 
 when it leaked too badly for comfort, and 
 they all tried to be happy. They succeeded 
 pretty well. 
 
 When each new year came around, the 
 home looked about as usual. It was no 
 better, and no worse, unless, perhaps, it was 
 a wee bit more shabby. 
 
 But the children grew fast. They were 
 merry and rosy, and thought very little about 
 the shabby stone hut they called " home." 
 
Norah 9 
 
 " Sivin of us there are," Norah would tell 
 you, " and baby Pat is the dearest and best of 
 us all." 
 
 As she came in to supper that night, her 
 mother lifted the kettle that hung by a hook 
 over the smoky fire and made a pot of tea. 
 Then she placed a dish of steaming potatoes 
 and a plate of dark, heavy bread on the table. 
 
 " A good supper, indade," thought the hun- 
 gry children, and in a few minutes not a sign 
 of anything to eat could be seen. 
 
 " Here chick ! chick ! " called Norah, drop- 
 ping crumbs to her pet chicken. It had kept 
 close beside her during the meal, and once 
 had grown so impatient that it flew up into 
 the little girl's lap. 
 
 An old hen had already gone to roost on 
 the rung of a stool in a dark corner of the 
 room, while the much-loved goat stood 
 munching grass at Norah's elbow. 
 
 The child's mother did not seem troubled 
 
10 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 in the least by these things. She was busy as 
 busy could be, giving hot potatoes and slices 
 of bread to Mike and Joe, Norah and Katie, 
 while she trotted baby Patsy on her knee. 
 
 But when the whole flock of geese came 
 running and flying into the hut for their share 
 of the family supper, it was a little too much. 
 
 " Away with you, noisy creatures ! " cried 
 the busy mother. " Away with you ! Mike, 
 take the broom and drive them out. Joe, 
 lend a hand and help your brother." 
 
 When the room had been cleared of the 
 greedy geese, every one went on eating, until 
 not even a crumb was left on the table. 
 
 The girls cleared away the dishes ; the boys 
 brought a load of peat into the house, and 
 placed it before the fire to dry for burning ; the 
 mother rocked Patsy to Dreamland, and the 
 father smoked his pipe. 
 
 Then, when the work was all done, he told 
 the children there was good news. 
 
Norah 1 1 
 
 " What is it, what is it ? " they all cried 
 together. 
 
 " A letter from our own Maggie, in 
 Ameriky. Sure, what else could the good 
 news be ? " said their father. " Listen, and 
 you shall hear it. 
 
 " c Dear Father and my own sweet 
 Mother : — First of all, how are yoursilves 
 and the pigs and all the children ? I have a 
 good place, and my mistress is very kind to 
 me. My work is not hard, and I am fast 
 learning the ways of this great country. My 
 wages is now two dollars and a half the week. 
 In the money of good ould Ireland, that is 
 just ten shillin's. By bein' careful since I 
 last wrote ye, I have saved enough to send 
 you two pounds. My master got the money 
 changed for me, he was that kind. What 
 will the money buy yez now? Mother 
 darlint must have two pounds of the best 
 
12 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 tay, and a new red woollen petticoat. You, 
 father, will have some grand leather boots, 
 and aich of the children must buy something 
 for the remimbrance of the sister Maggie far 
 across the great say. 
 
 " * Good-bye, and may the blissings of 
 Hiven fall upon ye. 
 
 «< Maggie O'Neil.'" 
 
 As he came to the end of the letter, every 
 one was silent for a moment. The mother 
 wiped away some tears which had fallen upon 
 her cheek, and her husband cleared his throat. 
 
 Two pounds ! It seemed like a fortune to 
 the little family. It was nearly enough to pay 
 the year's rent. 
 
 " But the pigs are doing well, and, if they 
 keep on, there will be no trouble when rent 
 time comes," said the father, as they sat talk- 
 ing the matter over. " The price of the pigs 
 will be enough for the rint, I'm thinkin'. It 
 
Norah 13 
 
 shall be as Maggie said. Let the childer go to 
 bed and dream of the fine things they will see 
 in the town when they go shopping." 
 
 Somehow or other the children were all 
 stowed away for the night in the small room 
 next the kitchen, and Norah was soon sound 
 asleep, and dreaming a most wonderful dream. 
 
 It seemed in her dream that the goat was 
 harnessed to the jaunting-car belonging to the 
 father of her friend Molly. He was a very, 
 very big goat in the dream, and he looked 
 really handsome, as he capered down the lane, 
 carrying the whole family to market. 
 
 Norah's pet chicken was going to see the 
 sights, for he was perched on the goat's head. 
 The old mother pig ran by his side, and the 
 baby pigs, with their curly tails high up in the 
 air, were trying their best to keep up. Every- 
 body was laughing and singing to the tune of 
 an Irish jig that Norah's father was playing 
 on the bagpipes. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE THUNDER - STORM 
 
 " Whisht, now ! The fairy folk are pass- 
 ing along. We must get out of their way, 
 and greet them politely," said Norah to her 
 little sister Kate, as she made a bow, and 
 whispered, " God speed ye." 
 
 The children were out berrying, and were 
 quite a distance from home. They had wan- 
 dered down the lane running through their 
 little village, and were now on the road to 
 Killarney. 
 
 " Why, Norah ? " 
 
 " When you see a cloud of dust sweeping 
 
 along, you may know the fairies are travelling. 
 
 It might bring something bad to us if we 
 
 stood in their way. We want them to be our 
 
 friends, of course." 
 
 14 
 
The Thunder - Storm 15 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes, Norah. I'll be careful next 
 time. But I'm tired. Tell me a story about 
 the fairies." 
 
 " I'm tired, too, Katie darlint. But I'll tell 
 ye this much. There once was a man who 
 did not care for the fairies as he should. Per- 
 haps he did not believe they used arrows and 
 shot them at the cattle of those people with 
 whom they were angry. Oh, Katie, it is the 
 living truth that the fairies can bewitch any one 
 whom they please. 
 
 " Well, the man of whom I was tellin' ye 
 bought a farm. It was close to a beautiful 
 valley where the fairies had their home. He 
 built himself a house; he ploughed the land; 
 and then he made a lime-kiln on the very 
 borders of the fairies' home. 
 
 " They were so angry that they punished 
 him in many ways. But not all at once, 
 Katie darlint. First, they killed his 
 horse ; next, three of his cows ; and, as 
 
16 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 though that wasn't enough, nine of his pigs 
 died. 
 
 " The farmer knew well enough what was 
 the matter. He took down his lime-kiln, and 
 was careful after that to keep clear of the 
 borders of fairy-land." 
 
 " Look, look, Norah ! I hear a carriage. 
 It may be people travelling through the 
 country. Put on your sweetest smile and 
 maybe they will give us a penny." 
 
 The two children stood still on one side of 
 the road. As the carriage passed them, little 
 Kate held out her chubby hands, saying, " A 
 penny, kind lady, if ye plaze." 
 
 She was quick to notice that, besides the 
 driver, three gentlemen and a lady filled the 
 seats of the jaunting-car. 
 
 " Take this, little one, for your rosy cheeks 
 and smiling face." 
 
 The lady threw out a three-penny 
 piece, as the driver stopped his car and 
 
"THE DRIVER STOPPED HIS CAR AND ASKED KORAH 
 HOW FAR IT WAS TO THE LAKES OF K1LLARNEY." 
 
The Thunder - Storm 17 
 
 asked Norah how far it was to the lakes of 
 Killarney. 
 
 " Four miles, sir, if ye keep straight on this 
 road," was the answer. 
 
 £C Do you mean four Irish miles ? " asked 
 one of the gentlemen. " For, if you do, we 
 have an hour's good drive before us." 
 
 " Sure, and I always supposed a mile is a 
 mile," answered Norah, with a perplexed look 
 in her eyes. 
 
 The gentleman laughed, and said, " If you 
 go to America when you grow up, you will 
 find that two of our miles will almost make 
 one of yours." 
 
 The car passed on, and the children stood 
 watching the travellers out of sight. 
 
 " Isn't it grand to be travelling like that, 
 Katie ? " said her sister. " A jaunting-car is 
 one of the finest things in the world." 
 
 But the people who were in the carriage did 
 not agree with her. 
 
1 8 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 " Dear me ! " said the lady, " I'm afraid of 
 falling out whenever the horse goes fast. 
 And as for this beautiful country, I can only 
 see what is on one side of the road at a time." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said her husband. 
 " I have always wanted to ride in a jaunting- 
 car, but it is more fun to talk about it than to 
 really do it." 
 
 " But what is a jaunting-car? " perhaps you 
 are wondering. 
 
 It is a carriage in which the seats are placed 
 back to back, facing sideways. It has no top, 
 but has big wheels and big springs underneath. 
 
 A small jaunting-car, like the one which had 
 passed the children, has two wheels, and seats 
 long enough to hold four people, two on each 
 side. The driver's place is built out in front, 
 reaching over the horse's back. Such a car is 
 very light, and one horse can carry it easily. 
 
 But what the lady said was true. There 
 was no way for the passengers to hold on 
 
The Thunder - Storm 19 
 
 firmly. Besides this, they could see the view 
 on only one side at a time. 
 
 A story has been told of a man who was 
 travelling in Ireland and wished to see the 
 country. He rode in a jaunting-car from 
 Queenstown to Cork. He sat on the side of 
 the car toward the hill and did not get a single 
 view of the river. When he went back again 
 he changed his seat to the opposite side of the 
 car. And still he saw nothing but the hill. 
 It is no wonder that, when people spoke to 
 him about the river between Cork and 
 Queenstown, he said, "There is no river. 
 There is nothing to be seen except a hill." 
 
 Do you see the joke ? And do you under- 
 stand the reason why he saw only one side of 
 the country, though he travelled twice over 
 the same road ? 
 
 Norah and her little sister had just turned 
 to go home, when they noticed the sky had 
 grown black with heavy clouds. 
 
20 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 " It is going to rain, Katie. We must 
 hurry, for I fear it will thunder and lighten," 
 said Norah. 
 
 The children began to run. Although they 
 did not mind the rain, they were both afraid 
 of thunder-storms. 
 
 " There ! hear that, and that ! " sobbed 
 Katie, beginning to cry. A streak of light- 
 ning had darted across the sky, followed 
 almost instantly by a loud peal of thunder. 
 
 Down came the rain in torrents, just as the 
 children turned from the road and entered 
 the lane leading to their own little village. 
 As they did so, the sound of wheels could be 
 heard behind them. 
 
 They were in too great a hurry and too 
 much frightened to turn around. But as they 
 reached their own door, the very jaunting-car 
 they had met on the road to Killarney drove up. 
 
 The children's mother had been watching 
 from the doorway. 
 
The Thunder -Storm 21 
 
 " Come in, children, as fast as you can. I 
 was near beside mesilf, I was that worried 
 about ye." 
 
 Then the good woman, turning with a wel- 
 come smile to the people in the carriage, asked 
 them to shelter themselves from the storm in 
 her poor little cot. 
 
 The two drenched children rushed to the 
 fireplace and stood there with the water drip- 
 ping from their skirts and making little 
 puddles on the floor of the cabin. 
 
 In the meantime, their mother was making 
 her visitors as comfortable as she could. Two 
 of the gentlemen took seats on the edge of a 
 big feather bed, for there were not chairs 
 enough to go around. The lady was given 
 the best chair, after Norah's mother had 
 dusted it with her apron, and placed it near 
 the fire. 
 
 The flock of geese had somehow managed 
 to follow the visitors into the house, and the 
 
22 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 big apron was next used to drive the poor wet 
 creatures out into the storm. It was plain to 
 see they did not enjoy it any more than the 
 people themselves. 
 
 " You must excuse us for taking you by 
 surprise in this way," said the lady, as soon as 
 it was quiet enough for the kind Irishwoman 
 to hear her, " but we saw the storm sud- 
 denly coming up, and we knew we were too 
 far from Killarney to get there before it 
 should break upon us." She smiled as she 
 went on, " Indeed, it overtook us before we 
 could even reach your village." 
 
 As she finished speaking, there was a blind- 
 ing flash of lightning. It was almost instantly 
 followed by a peal of thunder which shook 
 the little cabin again and again. 
 
 Norah's mother made the sign of the cross 
 upon her breast, and her lips moved in prayer. 
 Every one was silent as flash after flash of 
 bright light came through the window, and 
 
The Thunder -Storm 23 
 
 one peal of thunder followed close upon 
 another. 
 
 It was a good half-hour before the storm 
 began to die away. 
 
 " Yes, the rain comes often in these parts, 
 and thunder-storms are a common matter in 
 the summer time," said Mrs. O'Neil, when 
 they fell to talking again. 
 
 " That is one of the reasons why I don't 
 like jaunting-cars," said her lady visitor. 
 " They have no covering, and in a sudden 
 rain there is no way of keeping dry." 
 
 " Wheniver the lightning comes as it did a 
 few minutes ago," said Mrs. O'Neil, "it 
 makes me think of a story told by me father, 
 God rest his sowl. 
 
 " There was once a man working in his 
 garden. It began to thunder, and the man 
 was scared. He put his head through a hole 
 in the wall. f God save whativer is out of 
 me.' That is what he prayed. 
 
24 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 " He had no sooner said those words than 
 the wall fell and his head was taken off en- 
 tirely. 
 
 "You see, he didn't pray for the whole of 
 him. 
 
 " Now, my good father said that was just 
 right. The man was selfish to think only of 
 himsilf. He should have prayed large, for all 
 the folk around him, and not small, just for him- 
 silf. It was the judgment of Hiven upon him. 
 
 " But, dear me ! I must tend to my 
 baking. I had clean forgot it in the storm." 
 
 Mrs. O'Neil turned to the fireplace and 
 lifted a round, low pot out of the ashes. 
 When she had set it on the table, she took off 
 the cover. Then, turning the pot upside 
 down, a dark, heavy loaf of bread fell out 
 upon the table. 
 
 The visitors rose to go, thanking the good 
 woman for her kindness in giving them shelter 
 during the storm. 
 
The Thunder - Storm 25 
 
 But Mrs. O'Neil would not hear of their 
 leaving so near supper-time, with Killarney a 
 good hour's drive away. 
 
 She told them she had a nice pat of butter 
 in the cupboard. The wild berries picked by 
 the children had been covered over, so they 
 were not softened by the rain while on the 
 way home. With a pot of good tea and the 
 newly-baked bread, she proudly thought her 
 visitors might satisfy their hunger. 
 
 After looking at her husband and the other 
 gentlemen, the lady sat down again, saying : 
 
 "You are very kind and generous, Mrs. 
 O'Neil, like the rest of your people. Wher- 
 ever I have travelled in Ireland I have met 
 just such kindness. I shall never forget my 
 visit here. 
 
 " And what a beautiful country it is ! I 
 never saw such green grass anywhere else in 
 the world. No wonder it is called f The 
 Emerald Isle."' 
 
26 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 Mrs. O'Neil smiled her happiest smile. 
 She loved to hear her country praised. 
 
 " Ah ! Ireland was a great place once," she 
 cried. " But times have changed, and many 
 of the days have been sad ones since the rule 
 of our own kings. Did ye ever hear tell of 
 the famine ? " she asked. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said one of the gentlemen, 
 as Mrs. O'Neil bustled about the table. " I 
 shall never forget a story I read at the time. 
 I was a little boy in school. It was about a 
 family who were suffering terribly from the 
 famine. Their supply of potatoes had come 
 to an end and the new crop was killed by the 
 blight. There was no money to pay the rent, 
 and the poor little children with their parents 
 were turned out of their home by the hard- 
 hearted landlord. 
 
 " But at this dreadful moment, help came 
 from a kind friend in America, and they were 
 saved from further suffering." 
 
The Thunder - Storm 27 
 
 When he had finished speaking, Mrs. 
 O'Neil told of the suffering people who be- 
 came homeless and starving, and who died 
 before help reached them. 
 
 Norah crept close to her mother's side as 
 she listened to the story. Her big blue eyes 
 were full of tears. 
 
 This dreadful famine happened before 
 Mrs. O'Neil was born, for Norah's 
 grandmother was herself a child at the 
 time. 
 
 The potato crop had been poor for several 
 years, and many were the families who were 
 obliged to beg from those who were a little 
 better off than themselves. But at last there 
 came a season when all the crops failed. It 
 was the dreadful year of 1 847, when the blight 
 fell upon every part of Ireland. 
 
 Stop for a minute and think of the thou- 
 sands of little children who lived almost 
 entirely on potatoes up to this time. Some 
 
28 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 of them, it is true, had bread every day, and 
 meat once or twice a week. 
 
 But there were many many homes where the 
 only food of the family was potatoes. Then 
 you can picture what happened when there 
 were no more potatoes. 
 
 The smiles soon gave place to tears. The 
 roses faded away from the cheeks. The bright 
 eyes grew dull and heavy. 
 
 Poor little children of Ireland ! Think 
 what became of them when the last piece of 
 furniture had been sold to buy bread! 
 
 Alas ! many of them were soon without 
 even shelter. For they were driven with 
 their parents out of their small homes, be- 
 cause there was no possible way of paying the 
 rent. 
 
 Then what? Fever and sickness travelled 
 from place to place. Death followed in their 
 pathway. There were many days of cruel 
 suffering before the rest of the world waked 
 
The Thunder -Storm 29 
 
 up and sent help to the sick and the starving 
 in Ireland. 
 
 America showed herself a kind friend in 
 that sad time. It was some of the very food 
 she sent to Ireland that saved the life of 
 Norah's grandmother. She and her brothers 
 were nearly starving when the help came. 
 They lived on the seashore and had been try- 
 ing to keep themselves alive by eating sea- 
 weed and moss. Those were dreadful times, 
 indeed. 
 
 Mrs. O'Neil stopped to pat Norah's head, 
 which was in her apron. The child was 
 crying softly. 
 
 "There, there, those hard days are over 
 now, my child," said her mother, tenderly. 
 " The sky is brighter for Ireland than it has 
 been these many years. You must not let 
 this fine lady see you cry. Enough water 
 has fallen outside to-day without our adding 
 to the shower." 
 
30 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 Norah began to laugh, while she wiped 
 away the tears with her mother's apron. 
 
 The visitors once more rose to go. At the 
 same time one of the gentlemen stepped to 
 Mrs. O'Neil's side and said in a low tone, 
 "We would not think of offering pay for your 
 kindness to us this afternoon, but it will give 
 me a great deal of pleasure if you will 
 take this and buy a little kid with it for 
 Norah." 
 
 He pressed some money into the good 
 woman's hands. 
 
 " But we have one goat now, as you must 
 have seen," she said. 
 
 " Two goats will give the children twice as 
 much milk as one," he answered, with a laugh. 
 "And, besides, I want Norah to have the 
 new goat for her very own." 
 
 Mrs. O'Neil could not refuse such a kind 
 offer. "Thank ye entirely, and may Hiven 
 send its blessing on ye all." 
 
norah's home. 
 
The Thunder - Storm 31 
 
 By this time the driver had brought the 
 horse and the jaunting-car from the little shed, 
 and the party drove off in the direction of 
 Killarney. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 ST. PATRICK 
 
 " Sure and it's Father Tom himself," said 
 Norah's mother. She was in the midst of 
 the family washing. Katie was rocking baby 
 Patsy, and Norah was brushing up the rough 
 mud floor. Every one stopped work at once 
 and ran out of the cabin, the mother wiping 
 her hands on her apron, and Norah lifting 
 Patsy and carrying him along in her strong 
 young arms. 
 
 The whole village had by this time turned 
 out into the lane and gathered around the kind 
 fat priest, who had a smile for each and all. 
 
 There were old people hobbling along with 
 
 the help of sticks, men who had stopped work 
 
 for the sake of a blessing from the priest, 
 
 32 
 
St. Patrick 33 
 
 mothers with babies in their arms, and children 
 big and little. 
 
 It was a glad day when Father Tom came 
 to the village to see how all were getting along. 
 There were so few people that the village had 
 no church of its own. They went four miles 
 every Sunday to the nearest service. Almost 
 every one had to walk, for there were only two 
 or three donkeys and one or two rough carts 
 in the whole place. A visit from the priest 
 was a great honour, a very great honour. The 
 children knelt in his pathway that he might 
 lay his hands on them and bless them. The 
 men took off their hats and bowed their heads 
 low as he passed by. The old women made 
 as good curtsys as their stiff backs would let 
 them. 
 
 Norah put little Patsy down on the ground, 
 whispering, " Patsy, dear, touch the good 
 man's robe with your little hands. It will 
 make ye a better boy." 
 
34 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 Father Tom must have heard the whisper. 
 He turned around and placed his hands on the 
 baby's curly head. Then he made a short 
 prayer and blessed him. 
 
 " I will take a sup of tea with you, Mrs. 
 O'Neil," he said to Norah's mother. " I am 
 quite tired, for I have walked all the way from 
 my home this morning." 
 
 Mrs. O'Neil was much pleased. She hur- 
 ried home, while the priest and children fol- 
 lowed her more slowly. 
 
 As she hung the kettle over the fire and set 
 the table for the priest's lunch, he gathered the 
 children around him and told them stories of 
 St. Patrick, the dearest of all saints to the 
 Irish people. 
 
 It was a long, long time ago that the King of 
 Ireland was holding a festival in the Hall of Tara. 
 
 " Put out all the fires," he had commanded 
 his people. " Let no light be seen till a blaze 
 bursts forth from the hill of Tara." 
 
St. Patrick 35 
 
 Not one of his subjects would have dared 
 to disobey the king's command. 
 
 You may judge, therefore, how surprised he 
 was when he looked out into the darkness and 
 saw a light. It grew stronger and stronger 
 every moment. A great fire was blazing near 
 by on the top of a hill ! 
 
 Who could have dared to disobey the king ? 
 What was the meaning of the fire? The 
 Druid priest for whom the king sent in haste 
 said : 
 
 " O king, if that fire is not put out to-night, 
 it will never die in this country." 
 
 Now it happened that the festival which the 
 king and his people were celebrating was held 
 on the night before Easter Sunday. Few 
 people of Erin had at that time heard of 
 Easter Sunday. They knew nothing of the 
 life of the Christ Child. They were Druids, 
 and had a strange belief of their own. 
 
 Their chief priests dwelt in the dark forests 
 
36 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 of oak-trees, and taught their followers to 
 worship fire as the symbol of the sun. 
 
 But a new teacher had come into their 
 country. He had a message to the people. 
 He wished to tell them of the Christian relig- 
 ion and of Jesus, who had lived and suffered 
 and died to help all mankind. 
 
 The name of the new teacher was Patrick, 
 and Scotland was his early home. When he 
 was sixteen years old, he was surprised by a 
 band of robbers. They made him their pris- 
 oner and took him with them to Ireland. 
 
 After he had been with them six months, he 
 managed to get free and went back to Scotland. 
 
 But he was carried off a second time, and 
 again he escaped. After he reached his own 
 home once more, he said to himself, " I should 
 like to help the people of Ireland. I should 
 like to tell them of Jesus and his religion." 
 
 He began to study and prepare himself for 
 teaching. At last he was made a bishop. 
 
St. Patrick 37 
 
 After many years, he was able to go back to 
 Ireland. It was what he had long wished to do. 
 
 It was the eve of Easter Sunday when he 
 lighted that great fire on the hilltop and sur- 
 prised the king by his daring. 
 
 " I will send for the man who kindled that 
 fire. Let him come before me at once," com- 
 manded the king. 
 
 Patrick was brought in haste, but he was 
 not frightened in the least. 
 
 When the king and the princes, the nobles 
 and the Druid priests were gathered together, 
 he told them he had come to Erin to put out 
 the fires of the Druids. He wished to stop 
 the making of the pagan sacrifices in which the 
 people then believed. He had brought some- 
 thing better in their place. It was the Chris- 
 tian religion. 
 
 What do you suppose the king replied ? 
 
 He was very angry, of course. But still he 
 asked Patrick to meet the wise men of the 
 
38 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 country the next day and talk the matter over. 
 Then he could explain his belief to them. 
 
 On the next day he did meet them. He 
 talked so well and so wisely that many of the 
 listeners thought he knew a great deal more 
 than they did. They became Christians then 
 and there. 
 
 The king then gave Patrick the right to 
 preach all over Ireland. As he went from 
 place to place, he spoke so well that all those 
 who listened to him felt his great power. 
 
 In a short time the whole of the people 
 became Christians, and the strange worship of 
 the Druids came to an end. 
 
 Father Tom told Norah and her sister 
 many wonderful stories of the life of St. 
 Patrick. He told of a spring of water he had 
 visited. This spring worked miracles. 
 
 It happened that St. Patrick and St. Bridget 
 were one day taking a walk. She said she was 
 thirsty. St. Patrick struck the ground with his 
 
St. Patrick 39 
 
 staff. Water instantly began to bubble up 
 through the earth, and a spring has been there 
 ever since. 
 
 Father Tom went on to tell of strange wrig- 
 gling things called snakes. He had seen them 
 in other countries. They were something like 
 big worms, and were of different colours. The 
 bite of some of them was poisonous. 
 
 " But we have none of them in our own 
 beautiful Ireland," he said. " You may thank 
 the blessed St. Patrick for sending them out of 
 this country." 
 
 Norah and Katie both shivered when they 
 thought of the snakes. How good St. Patrick 
 was to drive the horrid creatures out of Ire- 
 land ! 
 
 " There is a grand church in the city of 
 Dublin called St. Patrick's Cathedral. When 
 you grow up, Norah, you must surely visit it," 
 said the kind priest, as he finished his story- 
 telling. "It stands on the very spot where St. 
 
40 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 Patrick himself once built a church. It is a 
 fine building, and its spire reaches higher up 
 toward heaven than anything you have ever 
 seen made by men. 
 
 " But, my dear little children, your mother 
 has prepared me a nice luncheon. I must eat 
 it, and then visit poor Widow McGee, who is 
 very ill." 
 
 A half-hour afterward, Father Tom had left 
 the little home, and Mrs. O'Neil was once 
 more hard at work over her wash-tub. Norah 
 was out in the yard amusing baby Patsy. 
 
 " Mother, mother," she called, " Mrs. Ma- 
 loney is on her way here. She has just stopped 
 at Mrs. Flynn's." 
 
 " Come in and get some petaties ready for 
 her, Norah. I don't want to stop again in 
 my work." (Mrs. O'Neil pronounced it 
 " wurruk.") 
 
 Mrs. Maloney lived in a lonely cabin about 
 two miles away. You would hardly believe it, 
 
St. Patrick 41 
 
 but Norah's home was almost a palace beside 
 Mrs. Maloney's. 
 
 There was one little window, as she would 
 have called it. It was really only a hole in the 
 wall. When heavy rains fell, the old woman 
 stuffed it with marsh-grass. The thatched 
 roof had fallen in at one end of the cabin. 
 The furniture was a chair and a rough bed- 
 stead. 
 
 Poor old Mrs. Maloney ! Once she had a 
 strong husband and eight happy children, 
 but, one by one, they had died, and now she 
 was old and feeble, and had no one in the world 
 to look after her. 
 
 Is it any wonder that the generous people 
 whom she visited always had something to 
 give and a kind word to speak to her ? 
 
 Every few days, she went from house to 
 house, holding out her apron as she stood in 
 the doorway. She did not need to say a word. 
 One kind woman would give her a bit of tea, 
 
42 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 another a loaf of bread, a third a cabbage, and 
 a fourth a little butter. 
 
 In this way she was kept from starving, or 
 from going to the workhouse, which she 
 dreaded nearly as much. 
 
 As Norah dropped the potatoes into her 
 apron, the old woman blessed her heartily. 
 As she turned to leave, Mrs. O'Neil called 
 after her to ask how she got along in yester- 
 day's bad storm. 
 
 " Sure and I was that feared I dared not 
 stay in the cabin. It was so bad I thought it 
 would fall down on me shoulders. So I wint 
 out and sat on the turf behind it. I was wet 
 indade when the storm was over." 
 
 " Too bad, too bad," said Mrs. O'Neil, in a 
 voice of pity. " We must see what can be 
 done for you." 
 
 She did not forget. That very night she 
 asked her husband if he could not find time to 
 mend the old woman's hut and make it safe 
 
St. Patrick 43 
 
 to live in. He promised her that as soon as 
 the potatoes were hoed he would get his friend 
 Mickey Flynn to help him and they would fix 
 it all right. 
 
 " Ah ! Tim, Tim," said his wife, with her 
 eyes full of tears, " of all the eight children 
 Mrs. Maloney has lost, there is none she 
 grieves over like her boy John, that went to 
 Ameriky and was never heard of again. 
 
 " Maybe he lost his life on the way there. 
 Maybe he died all alone in that far-away land, 
 with no kind friends near him. No one but 
 God knows." 
 
 Mrs. O'Neil crossed herself as she went on, 
 " Think of our own dear girl in Ameriky, and 
 what might happen to her ! " 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DANIEL O'CONNELL 
 
 *« O Paddy, dear, and did you hear 
 
 The news that's going round ? 
 The shamrock is forbid by law 
 To grow on Irish ground." 
 
 Norah was sitting by her father's side as 
 the family were gathered around the fireplace 
 one chilly evening. She was singing that song 
 they loved so well, " The Wearing of the 
 Green." 
 
 " I picked some shamrock leaves this morn- 
 ing, and I put them in the big book to press. 
 Can they go in the next letter to Maggie, 
 mother ? " asked the little girl, as she finished 
 singing. 
 
 She jumped down from her seat and went to 
 
 44 
 
Daniel O'Connell 45 
 
 a shelf, from which she took the treasure of the 
 family. It was the only book they owned 
 besides their prayer-books. 
 
 It told the story of a man loved by every 
 child of Erin, — the story of Daniel O'Con- 
 nell. 
 
 Opening the leaves carefully, Norah took 
 out a spray of tiny leaves. They looked very 
 much like the white clover which is so common 
 in the fields of America. It was a cluster of 
 shamrock leaves, the emblem of Ireland. 
 
 "Yes, it shall go to Maggie without fail," 
 said Norah's mother. " It will make her 
 heart glad to see it. The fields behind our 
 cabin will come to her mind, and the goat she 
 loved so well, feeding there. Oh, but she has 
 niver seen Patsy yet ! " 
 
 " Father, please tell us the story of that 
 great man," said Norah. " I am never tired 
 of hearing it." ^ 
 
 Norah pointed to the big book as she 
 
46 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 spoke. The first money Maggie had sent 
 from America had bought it, so it was doubly 
 precious to every one in the little home. 
 
 Daniel O'Connell ! What a friend he had 
 been to Ireland! The face of Norah's father 
 grew brighter as he began to tell the story of 
 the brave man who had worked so hard to 
 help his people. But the story-teller first 
 went back in the history of Ireland to a time 
 long before the birth of O'Connell. 
 
 The Irish had at last been conquered by 
 England. They had fought against her for 
 four hundred years. It was hard now to have 
 English rulers in the country and to have Eng- 
 lish lords take their lands away from them. 
 
 It was harder still to have these rulers say, 
 " You must worship as we worship. If you 
 remain Catholics, we will punish you." 
 
 The hard-hearted Cromwell came to Ireland, 
 bringing a large supply of Bibles, scythes, and 
 firearms. The Bibles were for those who were 
 
Daniel O'Connell 47 
 
 willing to become Protestants. The firearms 
 were used for killing those who would not give 
 up their religion. The scythes cut down the 
 crops of those who did not happen to get 
 killed and yet held to their faith. 
 
 " They shall be starved into obeying my 
 orders," said the stern Cromwell. 
 
 As though this were not enough, forty thou- 
 sand of the Irish people were driven to the 
 seacoast. They were put on board ships and 
 sent to Spain. Never more should they see 
 the Emerald Isle they loved so well. 
 
 Weeping and moaning could be heard all 
 through Ireland. But a still more pitiful sight 
 followed. It was a procession of children who 
 had been taken from their homes. They, too, 
 were driven on board ships which were waiting 
 for them. These poor helpless boys and girls 
 were to become slaves on the tobacco planta- 
 tions of the West Indies. 
 
 How their mothers' hearts must have ached ! 
 
48 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 What sobs and groans must have filled many 
 a lonely cottage of Ireland ! 
 
 One hundred and fifty years passed by. 
 They were hard years, and full of trouble. 
 
 Then the people began to whisper to each 
 other, " A real helper has come at last." 
 
 It was the young Irishman, Daniel O'Con- 
 nell, who lived the life of a country boy in a 
 quiet place in Kerry. It was scarcely twenty- 
 five miles from Norah's home. 
 
 An old schoolmaster taught Daniel his let- 
 ters in a little village school. No one noticed 
 the brightness of the boy's mind until long 
 afterward, when he was sent to a college in 
 France. After he had been there a year, the 
 principal began to see he was not like most 
 boys. 
 
 " He will be a great man, unless I am much 
 mistaken," he thought. He was not disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 Daniel studied hard and became a lawyer. 
 
Daniel O'Connell 49 
 
 His chief thought was always, " Ireland ! Poor 
 Ireland ! How can I help my country ? " 
 
 He worked early and late. He studied far 
 into the night. He would have little chance 
 as a lawyer unless he became very wise, and 
 was keen and quick in his wits. 
 
 For he was a Catholic. That was much 
 against him. The judges in the courts were 
 Protestants and were ready to favour Protestant 
 lawyers. 
 
 But O'Connell's heart was full of courage. 
 He did not lose hope for a single moment. 
 
 When he began to practise law, he showed 
 every one what a bright mind he had. He was 
 quick to see little mistakes and point them out. 
 
 He stayed in the court-room during the 
 whole of a trial. He would not leave it for a 
 minute, even if he had been there many hours. 
 He had lunch brought in to him. He was 
 afraid if he left the court that something might 
 be said he ought to hear. 
 
5<d Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 " He is very bright." " He sees every 
 blunder." " He is a sharp-witted fellow." 
 People began to say things like these. Or, 
 perhaps, some bold Irishman would tell his 
 friend, " England can't have it all her own 
 way much longer. Dan O'Connell will see to 
 that." 
 
 Now, while this clever young lawyer was 
 busy in the courts in the daytime, he was 
 doing just as important work in the night. 
 
 Evening after evening he met with the 
 friends of Ireland. He talked with them of 
 the best way to help their country. 
 
 " But no blood must be shed," he would 
 say again and again. " No blood must be shed. 
 That would be too high a price to pay. Be- 
 sides, it has been fully tried for hundreds of 
 years, and nothing but bitterness and misery 
 has come of it. And yet the Catholics must 
 have equal rights with the Protestants." 
 
 He saw only one way of bringing this about. 
 
Daniel O'Connell 51 
 
 It was by getting all the people to vote alike. 
 Then the English rulers would see how strong 
 and how much in earnest the Irish people 
 were. 
 
 There were years of hard work before Daniel 
 O'Connell was able to bring about any change. 
 At last, however, the government of England 
 was obliged to pass a law giving Catholics the 
 right to vote and hold office the same as 
 Protestants. 
 
 It is said that when the king signed the law 
 he was so angry he broke the pen with which 
 it was done, and stamped upon it. But he 
 knew he had to do it, and there was no way 
 out of it. 
 
 Daniel O'Connell had won. He was the 
 great Liberator of his religion in Great Britain. 
 
 He now tried to gain a separate government 
 for Ireland. But he did not live to finish his 
 work. He was seized with illness. This very 
 time was the beginning of the dreadful famine. 
 
52 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 O'Connell could not keep his mind from 
 thinking of the sufferings of his people, and 
 so, of course, he gained no strength. His 
 doctors gave up hope. 
 
 The great lawyer and Liberator had but one 
 wish now. He would like to die in Rome 
 under the blessing of the Pope. He did not 
 live long enough to reach the religious capital 
 of the Catholic world, but his heart 
 was preserved and sent there, by his own 
 wish. 
 
 His body was sent to Ireland, where there 
 was a grand funeral. 
 
 A great monument stands to-day in the city 
 of Dublin. It was built in honour of Ireland's 
 brave helper and true lover, Daniel O'Connell. 
 
 It is shaped like the round towers still stand- 
 ing here and there throughout Ireland. They 
 are so old that no one knows when or why 
 they were built. They stand tall and straight 
 and strong and silent. But it seems as though 
 
THE MONUMENT TO DANIEL o'CONNELL. 
 
Daniel O'Connell 53 
 
 they would say, " Look at us and think of the 
 grand old days of Erin ! " 
 
 Some people think they were watch-towers 
 from which the enemy could be discovered far 
 away. 
 
 When the people wished to build a monu- 
 ment to Daniel O'Connell, they thought noth- 
 ing would be more proper than a copy of the 
 old watch-towers still standing in the country 
 and reminding every one of the old glories of 
 Ireland. 
 
 As Norah's father finished the story, the 
 little girl got up softly and went to a drawer, 
 from which she drew a picture. It was that 
 of a white hound, the dog Daniel O'Connell 
 loved so much. 
 
 " Father," she said, putting her arms around 
 his neck, " if you ever see a white hound at 
 the fair in Killarney, please buy it for your 
 little Norah. I will love it tenderly for the 
 sake of that great man," 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 KILLARNEY 
 
 " Mother, mother ! Mollie says can I go 
 with her for a day at Killarney ? " cried 
 Norah, rushing into the house quite out of 
 breath. 
 
 And, indeed, it was no wonder. She had 
 run every step from her friend Mollie's, which 
 was a good half-mile away. 
 
 Mollie's father seemed quite rich in Norah's 
 eyes. He had a farm, where he kept three 
 cows and twenty sheep. Yes, and a horse 
 besides. Not a donkey, mind you. Two of 
 Norah's neighbours owned donkeys, but Mol- 
 lie's father was so well off that he had a real 
 live horse, and a jaunting-car of his very own. 
 
 When the work was not heavy, the farmer 
 
 sometimes took his family for a day's pleasure. 
 
 54 
 
Killarney 55 
 
 " If it is fine weather to-morrow," he prom- 
 ised Mollie, " you shall ask Norah to go with 
 us. It will be a rale treat for her." 
 
 How Norah's eyes sparkled as she told her 
 mother of the invitation ! Her cheeks were 
 more rosy than ever, and as she laughed over 
 the good news, her teeth looked for all the 
 world like the loveliest of pearls. 
 
 The next morning she was out-of-doors 
 at sunrise, to see what signs there were of 
 good weather. Dame Nature was very kind 
 to the little girl, and made the sun spread 
 his loveliest colours over the eastern sky. 
 
 There was a great scrubbing and cleaning 
 before Norah was ready to start. Her mother 
 combed and brushed her thick, long hair, and 
 made it into two glossy braids. What did it 
 matter if there was no hat to wear ! She was 
 so pretty, she did not need straw or ribbon to 
 make people stop to look at the bright, happy 
 face, with eyes ever ready to laugh or cry. 
 
56 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 When she was dressed in her pink cotton 
 gown (it was the only one she had, and her 
 mother had washed and ironed and mended it 
 the night before, after Norah had gone to 
 bed), she ate her breakfast, and slipped over 
 the fields to Mollie's, as happy as a lark. 
 
 The horse and car already stood waiting at 
 the door. Mollie and Norah, and Mollie's 
 sister Bridget, sat together on one side of the 
 car, while the jolly farmer, with his wife and 
 baby, filled the other seat. Mollie's big 
 brother Tim was the driver. 
 
 As they jogged along through the beautiful 
 country, the party sang " Killarney," and 
 other favourite songs. After awhile, Mollie's 
 mother started "The harp that once thro' 
 Tara's halls," and every one joined in with 
 a will. 
 
 When the song came to an end, the farmer 
 told the children about an old harper who 
 used to go wandering through the country. 
 
Killarney 57 
 
 He stopped at every place to play the tunes 
 the people loved so well. 
 
 But that was before Mollie and Norah were 
 born. Yes, before even the farmer himself 
 was born. He had heard his mother tell 
 about the old man, and how bright his eyes 
 grew as his fingers drew out the tunes from 
 the harp. 
 
 Once upon a time there were many such 
 harpers in the country. Those were the days 
 of the Irish kings and lords. There were 
 feasts and dancing and music in many a stone 
 castle in those times. 
 
 But now, alas, most of the castles 
 are only ruins, where the kindly ivy 
 covers the piles of stones, and the wind 
 howls through the empty door and window 
 places. 
 
 One castle was the grandest of all. It was 
 called the Hall of Tara, and was built on the 
 top of a high hill. Mollie and Norah had 
 
58 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 often heard of the doings in that grand 
 building. 
 
 It was the place where the Irish princes met 
 together to choose their king. It was there 
 that he was crowned, upon an upright stone 
 that actually roared during the ceremony. At 
 least, so the story runs. 
 
 The laws of the country were made in the 
 Hall of Tara, and a great feast was served 
 there before commencing business each day. 
 Three loud blasts were sounded by the trum- 
 peter to call the people together in the great 
 dining-room. 
 
 Not only princes and nobles met in Tara's 
 Hall. There were also poets and wise men. 
 For those were the days when Ireland had 
 places of learning where many scholars gath- 
 ered, to study history and poetry, the move- 
 ments of the sun and stars, and many other 
 things. Those were great days for Old Ire- 
 land. 
 
Killarney 59 
 
 " Oh, see ! See ! " cried Norah. 
 
 Mollie's brother stopped the horse to let 
 every one see the beautiful sight before them. 
 The lovely lakes, shut in by high mountains, 
 were ahead of them. 
 
 "They are the jewels of Erin," cried Mol- 
 lie's mother. " They are diamonds sparkling 
 on the breast of our country." 
 
 It was no wonder she spoke as she did. It 
 would be hard to find any spot in the 
 world more beautiful than the Lakes of 
 Killarney. 
 
 As the horse started up once more, they 
 passed high stone walls covered with moss and 
 ferns and ivy. The branches of tall trees met 
 together over their heads, with vines wound 
 lovingly about their trunks. The whole view 
 was so beautiful that even the children became 
 quiet. No one felt like talking. 
 
 " We will not spend any time in Killarney 
 town," said Mollie's father. " This is going 
 
60 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 to be a day outdoors, childer. We'll have a 
 rale picnic." 
 
 Mollie and Norah clapped their hands. 
 
 " We must go to Ross Castle, that's sure. 
 And of course you want to visit Muckross 
 Abbey and hear the echo below the Eagle's 
 Nest," the farmer went on. 
 
 '* Castle Lough and Glenna bay, 
 
 Mountains Tore and Eagle's Nest ; 
 Still at Muckross you must pray, 
 
 Though the monks are now at rest." 
 
 So sang the girls in answer. 
 
 You must know that Killarney is the most 
 beautiful part of the beautiful country of Ire- 
 land. One day is not enough to see all that 
 is worth seeing. 
 
 No one could blame the children for not 
 wanting to spend any of their time in the little 
 dirty town at the end of the lakes. 
 
 The horse was driven close to the shore of 
 Lough Lean, or the Lake of Learning. This 
 
Killarney 61 
 
 is the name given it by the people of the 
 country because two universities once stood 
 near its shores. 
 
 The party got out of the jaunting-car and 
 sat down at the water's edge to eat their lunch. 
 There were no cakes or pies, but nothing 
 could have tasted better to the hungry chil- 
 dren than the thick slices of bread and butter, 
 the home-made cheese, and the rich goat's milk. 
 
 And then, every time they lifted their eyes 
 they could see the green meadows on one side, 
 and on the other the mountains covered with 
 purple heather and thick forests. 
 
 Out on the clear waters of Lough Lean 
 were many little islands, looking like so many 
 emeralds set in the silvery bosom of the lake. 
 
 " What lovely homes they would make for 
 the fairies," whispered Norah to Mollie. She 
 always spoke of the fairies in a whisper. Per- 
 haps she felt they might be provoked if she 
 mentioned them in her usual voice. 
 
62 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 " I believe they choose just such places to 
 live in," answered Mollie. " I think there 
 must be hawthorn-trees growing there." 
 
 Both Norah and Mollie believed in fairies. 
 They had as much faith in them as many little 
 boys and girls in America have in Santa Claus. 
 They thought hawthorn-trees the favourite 
 places for the midnight parties of the fairies. 
 It was in the shade of the hawthorn-trees 
 that these beautiful sprites feasted on dew, and 
 danced to the music of fairy harps. 
 
 As the children sat whispering together, 
 Molly's father began to tell the story of 
 Lough Lean. The little girls were only too 
 glad to listen. 
 
 He told the old legend of the time when 
 there was no lake at all. A fine city stood 
 here in its place, and in the city there lived 
 a brave warrior, whose name was O'Donaghue. 
 
 Everything one could wish for was in the 
 city except plenty of water. There was one 
 
NORAH AND MOLLIE AT LOUGH LEAN. 
 
Killarney 63 
 
 small spring, to be sure. A great magician 
 had given it to the people. But he had made 
 one condition, which was this : whoever drew 
 water from the spring must cover it with a 
 certain silver vessel. 
 
 It happened one day that the brave O'Don- 
 aghue drank more wine than he should. It 
 made him very bold. He ordered his serv- 
 ants to go to the spring and bring him the 
 silver bowl that covered it. 
 
 "It will make a good bathtub for me," he 
 said, and he laughed merrily. 
 
 " Pray don't make us do this," cried his 
 frightened servants. 
 
 He laughed all the louder, and answered : 
 " Don't be afraid. The water will be all the 
 better for the fresh night air." 
 
 The silver bowl was brought to the daring 
 warrior. But as the servants entered the 
 house, they imagined they heard terrible 
 sounds about them. 
 
64 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 They shook with fear as they thought, 
 " We are going to be punished for breaking 
 the magician's command." 
 
 One of the servants was so frightened that 
 he left the city and fled to the mountains. 
 It was well for him that he did so, 
 for when the morning came, he looked 
 down into the valley and saw no city 
 at all. 
 
 Not a sign of a house or living being was 
 in sight. A sheet of water was stretched out 
 before his astonished eyes. It was the beauti- 
 ful Lough Lean. 
 
 As Mollie's father repeated the legend, the 
 children bent over the lake. Perhaps they 
 could see the roofs of palaces, or the tops of 
 towers, still standing on the bottom of the 
 water. They had heard of people who said 
 they had seen them. But the children were 
 disappointed. 
 
 Perhaps when they went rowing in the 
 
Killarney 65 
 
 afternoon, they might yet catch a glimpse 
 of the hidden city. Who could tell ? 
 
 Mollie's father had more to tell of another 
 man, whose name was also O'Donaghue. He 
 pointed to a little island not far from the 
 shore. It was Ross Island, and an old, old 
 castle, called Ross Castle, was still standing 
 there. 
 
 The stone walls were now in ruins. They 
 were overgrown with moss and ivy. But hun- 
 dreds and hundreds of years ago it was a 
 great stronghold of Ireland's bravest warriors. 
 
 The chief of them all was the daring 
 O'Donaghue. Even now he cannot rest easy 
 in his grave. Every seven years he rises up, 
 and, mounting a white horse, rides around 
 Ross Castle. And as he rides every stone 
 goes back into its old place, and the castle 
 is once more as strong and grand as in its best 
 days. 
 
 But this is only for the one night. When 
 
66 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 the sun shines the next morning, a heap of 
 ruins is standing there, where the owls and 
 bats may keep house in comfort. 
 
 " How I should like to see the knight on 
 his white horse ! " said Norah. 
 
 "Yes, but I should be afraid, I'm sure," 
 said Mollie. "After all, the day is the best 
 time to be outdoors, and my bed at home 
 is the safest place after dark." 
 
 When the lunch was eaten, the whole party 
 crossed a bridge that spanned the water to 
 Ross Island. The children played games 
 over the smooth lawns, picked flowers, and 
 told fairy stories. 
 
 Then Mollie's brother rowed the girls out 
 on the lake. Many a time he rested on his 
 oars while the children called out and then 
 listened for the echo to answer them. 
 
 " There it is, hark ! " said Tim. 
 
 A party of travellers came rowing toward 
 them. They had hired an Irish piper to go 
 
Killarney 67 
 
 with them. As he played a slow tune, the 
 answer came back. 
 
 Tim whistled, and the echo repeated it. 
 Then Norah sang the first line of " Come 
 Back to Erin," and the echo sang it back 
 again. 
 
 But the afternoon was going fast, and the 
 children could now hear Mollie's father calling 
 to them from the shore. They must get back 
 to land as soon as possible. 
 
 When they reached the car, they jumped in, 
 and all started at once for Muckross Abbey, 
 at the other end of the lake. 
 
 It had once been a great place of learning, 
 but it was now in ruins. Ah ! but such beau- 
 tiful ruins, covered with mosses and creeping 
 vines. How the ivy seemed to love the old 
 stone walls ! 
 
 Some of Ireland's greatest men were buried 
 here. Poets and soldiers and wise men lie 
 in their tombs. Norah and Mollie stepped 
 
68 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 softly and spoke in low tones as they walked 
 among them, half-buried in moss and ivy. 
 
 But they did not linger long. They loved 
 the sunshine and the brightness outside, and 
 were glad to get back to them. 
 
 They took their places in the jaunting-car 
 once more, and started on their homeward 
 way. 
 
 As they drove along, they passed the grand 
 home of a rich Englishman. A long and fine 
 driveway led up to it from the road. It was 
 almost hidden in a lovely grove. 
 
 Just as they drew near, a party of horsemen 
 passed them and turned into the driveway, 
 blowing their horns. They had been out 
 hunting and were now returning. 
 
 " Arrah ! they have a jolly life," said Mol- 
 lie's mother. " Hunting and fishing and feast- 
 ing. That is the way they pass their days. 
 But, glory be to God, I have my husband and 
 childer and our little farm, and I am content." 
 
Killarney 69 
 
 She might have said, also : 
 
 " I live in the most beautiful part of beauti- 
 ful Ireland. I can look to my heart's content 
 at the lovely hills and lakes, the fields filled 
 with flowers, and the cascades rippling down 
 the mountainsides." 
 
 Yes, let glory be to God that the poor 
 can enjoy these blessings, and it costs them 
 nothing. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HALLOWE EN 
 
 " It's jumping wid joy I am," said Norah. 
 
 It was the eve of the first day of November, 
 and the little girl was putting on a new dress. 
 Her father had been to the pig fair at Kil- 
 larney. He had sold his pigs for a good price, 
 and had brought home enough blue cloth to 
 make gowns for both Norah and Katie. 
 
 But what is a pig fair ? perhaps you are 
 wondering. It is like any other fair in the 
 old countries, except that little else is sold 
 besides pigs. 
 
 Pigs ! pigs ! pigs ! Big pigs and little pigs. 
 
 Pigs rolling in fat and weighing a good three 
 
 hundred pounds. Little baby pigs, pink and 
 
 white, and too young to leave their mothers. 
 
 70 
 
Halloween 71 
 
 Streets full of men and pigs. Everybody 
 talking, and many of them laughing and tell- 
 ing each other funny stories. 
 
 And all along the sides of the roads were 
 horses and donkeys fastened to queer-looking 
 wagons, in which the pigs had been brought to 
 market. 
 
 Oh, a pig fair is a jolly sight, as Norah's 
 brother would tell you. 
 
 The two blue dresses were made in a hurry 
 by the mother, and now the whole family were 
 going to a party at Mollie's house. It was to 
 celebrate Hallowe'en. Patsy had to go, too, 
 for there was no one to leave him with at 
 home. 
 
 There was no baby-carriage for him. But 
 that did not matter. He could go on his 
 mother's broad back, after she had wrapped 
 a big shawl over her shoulders. 
 
 The father led the procession. He felt very 
 grand in a coat with long tails and a tall hat. 
 
72 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 Of course, Norah and Katie felt fine in 
 their new gowns. They walked behind their 
 mother, looking from time to time at her new 
 red petticoat, and then at their own dresses. 
 
 It seemed a longer walk than usual, because 
 they were so anxious to get there and join 
 in the sport. 
 
 " Hear the piper, hear the piper ! " shouted 
 Katie, as they at last drew near the farmhouse. 
 And her little bare feet began to dance along 
 the path. 
 
 A minute more, and the house door opened 
 wide, and the visitors were made welcome. 
 
 The kitchen was not large, and it was 
 already well filled. The big bed had been 
 moved over into a corner to make room for 
 dancing. The older people, who did not 
 dance, sat on the edge of the bed, while the 
 children nestled together on the floor against 
 the wall. 
 
 The turf fire was glowing in the big fire- 
 
Hallowe'en 73 
 
 place, and giving a pleasant welcome to all. 
 On the rafters overhead, some hens were fast 
 asleep, not seeming to mind the music and 
 laughter in the least. 
 
 The piper was playing his jolliest tunes, and 
 two young people were dancing a jig when 
 Norah arrived. 
 
 " Good ! good ! " cried the rest of the com- 
 pany, as the young girl went around and 
 around the young man, her partner, never 
 once losing the step. Her heavy shoes made 
 a great clatter as they came down on the 
 paved floor. 
 
 Her face grew redder and redder. Her 
 breath came harder and harder, but she would 
 not give up dancing till the piper himself left 
 off playing. 
 
 " Let us bob for apples now," said the host. 
 "We will give these young folks a chance 
 to get their breath." 
 
 A big tub of water was brought in, and 
 
74 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 some apples were set floating in it. Who 
 would duck for the apples ? Every one who 
 had a chance. It did not matter how old or 
 how young they might be. 
 
 It was such fun ! One head after another 
 went down into the water to see who could 
 seize an apple between his teeth without using 
 his hands to help him. 
 
 When the company grew tired of this sport, 
 there were other games and more lively 
 dances. 
 
 Then there were refreshments. There was 
 plenty of tea for the big folks, and bread and 
 cheese and potato cakes for all. 
 
 As they sat eating, the piper began to play 
 a soft, sad tune. 
 
 " They do say he learned it of the fairies," 
 whispered Mollie to Norah. 
 
 Just then, the children's school-teacher 
 came and sat down beside them. He heard 
 the word " Fairies." 
 
Hallowe'en 75 
 
 " Do you believe in fairies ? " he asked 
 Norah. 
 
 She lifted her blue eyes in surprise. 
 
 " Sure, sir. They live in the hills and 
 caves. And there be some, I have heard, 
 who have their homes under the waves of 
 the sea. This night they are more lively 
 than at most times. 
 
 " Mother was careful this morning not to 
 drain the milk-pail. She wanted to leave a 
 drop in case the fairy folk should come along 
 and wish for a sup. And sure, sir, 
 father never puts the fire out at night. 
 He says maybe the fairies might like 
 to rest a bit on our hearth before the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 The schoolmaster smiled, but did not con- 
 tradict the little girl. He thought it would 
 only trouble the child. 
 
 Norah's father had once said, " The teacher 
 is a man of great larnin'. And, strange to 
 
76 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 say, I have heard that people of larnin' have 
 little belief in fairy folk." 
 
 "Would you like me to tell you a 
 story ? " asked the teacher, after a moment or 
 two. 
 
 " Oh, plaze do, indade ! " said Norah and 
 Mollie together. They loved their teacher 
 dearly. 
 
 Their school was kept in a plain, bare little 
 room with rough benches and desks. There 
 was nothing bright or pretty about it. But 
 their teacher was kind, and tried to help them 
 learn. They were always glad to be with him 
 and hear him talk. 
 
 "You have never been to the north of 
 Ireland, have you ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, no, sir. We've never been farther 
 from home than the Lakes of Killarney," 
 answered Mollie. 
 
 " But you know, of course, that this is an 
 island, and if you travel to the northeastern 
 
Hallowe'en 77 
 
 shore of Ireland you must cross the sea if 
 you want to go to Scotland." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, you showed that to us on 
 the map at school." 
 
 " I will tell you of a giant named Finn 
 McCool, who is said to have lived on that 
 rocky shore. Do you know what a giant 
 is ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. He's like any other man, only 
 he's ever and ever so much bigger," answered 
 Norah. 
 
 "Very well, then. This particular giant 
 wished to fight another giant who lived in 
 Scotland. He invited him to come across 
 the sea to Ireland. But the Scotch giant was 
 not able to swim. So he answered : 
 
 " c I would gladly come if I could, but 
 I cannot get across.' 
 
 " c It's an aisy matter to make a road for 
 you,' said Finn. c It is hardly worth speaking 
 about.' 
 
78 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 " He set to work at once and built a road, 
 or causeway, made of stone pillars. They 
 were placed close together, and reached up- 
 ward from the bed of the sea. Of course, the 
 Scotch giant could not refuse to come now." 
 
 " Could we see it if we went there ? " Mollie 
 eagerly asked. 
 
 " You could see a part of it. But, accord- 
 ing to the legend, it was broken in two by the 
 sea. Even now, you could walk out upon it 
 for quite a distance. But the causeway slopes 
 downward into the water, and then seems to 
 stop. Some people, however, believe it ex- 
 tends under the sea clear to Scotland. 
 
 "It is certainly a wonderful thing, and 
 many people from other countries go to see it. 
 
 " Do you suppose it was really the work of 
 giants, children ? " 
 
 " Indade, whatever else could it be, sir? 
 No common man could do it." 
 
 " No one knows ; no one knows," said the 
 
Hallowe'en 79 
 
 schoolmaster, thoughtfully. " But come, let 
 us join in the songs. We know more about 
 them." 
 
 How sweet and clear the voices sounded, 
 as the favourite tunes of Ireland rang through 
 the farmhouse. 
 
 Then came fairy stories and jokes, and the 
 party broke up just as the little wooden clock 
 on the mantel struck the hour of midnight. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FAIRIES 
 
 " Wake up, me darlint. You have been 
 dozing by the fire long enough," said Norah's 
 father. 
 
 It was a cold evening in winter. Patsy was 
 sound asleep in his bed. The good mother 
 sat knitting socks for her husband ; Mike was 
 whittling a hockey stick to play with the next 
 day. Little Katie was singing her rag doll to 
 sleep, while Norah lay on the floor by the 
 fireplace with eyes shut tight and breathing 
 softly. 
 
 When her father touched her cheek and 
 spoke to her, she sprang up with a sudden 
 start. 
 
 " I've been dreaming. Oh, it was such a 
 
 beautiful dream ! " she exclaimed. " I was with 
 
 80 
 
Fairies 81 
 
 the fairies in a big cave. They were having 
 a party, and they looked just lovely. Indade, 
 it was the sweetest dream I ever had." 
 
 " Do tell us about it," cried Katie. " Oh, 
 do, Norah. And don't forget a single thing." 
 
 Norah's cheeks were rosy red, and her blue 
 eyes sparkled as she painted the dream picture 
 to the listening family. 
 
 She had been in the grand hall of a cave. 
 It was like no other hall she had ever seen. 
 The walls were shining with precious stones. 
 Shining pendants hung from the ceiling and 
 glistened in the light given by hundreds of 
 fairy torches. 
 
 But the fairies themselves were the loveliest 
 sight of all. Oh, they were such tiny crea- 
 tures ! The young lady fairies were all in 
 white, and their soft, fair hair hung far down 
 over their shoulders. 
 
 The young gentlemen fairies wore green 
 jackets and white breeches. 
 
82 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 The fairy queen had a golden crown on her 
 head, and when she waved her golden wand, 
 every one hastened to do her bidding. 
 
 They all had sweet, kind faces, and looked 
 lovingly at Norah as they danced around her 
 to the fairy music. 
 
 When Norah had got this far in her story, 
 she turned to her father, and said : 
 
 " Then you called me, and the fairies all 
 looked sad, and then — then — that's all I can 
 remember." 
 
 " The fairies are wonderful people, and we 
 must keep them for our friends, but I don't 
 want them to call my Norah away from me. 
 You must never turn your ears to the fairy 
 music, my child." 
 
 Norah's father looked serious as he said 
 these words. He had heard of a young girl 
 who had listened to fairy music. It made her 
 lose all love for her dearest friends. She for- 
 got everything that had happened in her life. 
 
Fairies 83 
 
 After that, she could only think of the fairies, 
 and long to be with them. She died a short 
 time afterward. 
 
 But, of course, Norah had only been dream- 
 ing of the fairies. That was quite different. 
 
 " Tell us some fairy stories, father dear. It 
 is just the night for them," begged Katie. 
 
 Her father liked nothing better. He began 
 at once to tell of a battle between two bands 
 of fairies. It was in the night-time, and not 
 far from the very place where they were living. 
 
 Norah's father had seen with his own eyes 
 the man who told the story of the strange 
 battle. 
 
 The fairies were no more than nine inches 
 tall, but there were millions of them. They 
 marched along in rows just like any other 
 soldiers. The men of one army were in green 
 coats, and the men of the other in red ones. 
 
 When they had drawn up and faced each 
 other, the signal was given to begin the battle. 
 
84 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 What a fight it was ! The man who saw it 
 became so excited he began to shout. Then, 
 lo and behold ! every fairy vanished from 
 sight, and he found himself lying all alone 
 on the roadside. 
 
 Had he been asleep ? was it all a dream, 
 like that of Norah's ? He declared that was 
 impossible. 
 
 The mother and children listened eagerly to 
 the story. They believed every word of it. 
 
 The father did not stop here. He told 
 now of a grand ball given by the fairies. A 
 woman in Sligo saw it her very own self. 
 
 It was out in a big field, and the moon was 
 shining on the beautiful scene. Hundreds of 
 fireflies flew about the fairies, who were dan- 
 cing like angels. 
 
 But the music ! There was never anything 
 like it in the world. A big frog played the big 
 fiddle, and two kittens performed on the little 
 ones. Then there were two big drums beaten 
 
Fairies 85 
 
 by cats, while fat little pigs blew the trumpets. 
 It must have been a wonderful sight. 
 
 " The fairies are very fond of childer," said 
 Mrs. O'Neil. "They are that fond of them, 
 they sometimes carry away a sleeping baby 
 to their own home and leave a fairy child 
 in its place. And that's the very truth. But 
 come, husband, tell one more story before 
 we go to bed." 
 
 " Oh, do, do, father ! " cried Mike, and 
 Norah and Katie repeated, " Do, do," after 
 their brother. 
 
 How could any father refuse when children 
 begged like that? 
 
 Norah took possession of one of his knees, 
 Katie of the other, while Mike stretched him- 
 self out on the floor at his father's feet. As 
 soon as all was quiet, they listened to the 
 story of " Ethna, the Bride." 
 
 Once upon a time there was a great lord, 
 who had a beautiful young wife. Her name 
 
86 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 was Ethna. Her husband was so proud of 
 her, he held feasts every day. All the noblest 
 people in the land came to his castle and 
 danced and sang and took part in these feasts. 
 
 It happened one evening that, in the very 
 midst of a dance, as the fair Ethna was 
 whirling about through the hall in her rich 
 garments of gauze, studded with sparkling 
 jewels, she sank lifeless to the floor. 
 
 " She has fainted, she has fainted," cried the 
 company. 
 
 She was carried to a couch, where she lay 
 for hours without knowing anything happen- 
 ing about her. 
 
 But as the morning light began to creep in 
 through the window, she awoke and told her 
 husband she had been in the palace of the 
 fairies. It was very, very beautiful. She 
 longed to go back now and listen to the fairy 
 music. It filled her with such joy as she had 
 never felt before. 
 
Fairies 87 
 
 All that day her friends watched her closely, 
 so she might not leave them again. It was of 
 no use. As soon as the twilight settled down 
 over the castle, there was the sound of soft 
 music outside the walls. Instantly the beauti- 
 ful Ethna closed her eyes and sank to sleep. 
 
 Every means was tried to wake her, but 
 in vain. Her nurse was set to watch her, 
 but for some reason she could not keep 
 awake, and before the night was over, she, 
 too, fell asleep. 
 
 When she awoke, she discovered that her 
 charge was missing. Ah ! where had she 
 gone? 
 
 Every place about the castle was searched, 
 but it was of no use. People were sent now 
 in one direction, now in another, but every 
 one brought back the same word, — there was 
 no sign nor trace of the fair bride. Then the 
 young lord said : 
 
 " I know where she must be. She has 
 
88 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 gone to the fairies. I will go to their king, 
 Finvarra. He has always been a good friend 
 to me. He will help me to get her back." 
 
 Little did he dream that the king of the 
 fairies, even Finvarra himself, had fallen in 
 love with Ethna, and had spirited her away 
 from her home. 
 
 The young lord mounted his horse, and 
 away he rode at full speed till he came to 
 the hill of the fairies. There he stopped. 
 
 All at once he heard voices. This is what 
 he heard : 
 
 " Finvarra is happy now. He has won the 
 fair young Ethna. She will never leave his 
 palace again." 
 
 " Ah ! " was the reply, " it may happen 
 yet. For if her husband digs down through 
 this hill, he can win Ethna again." 
 
 " We shall see ! We shall see ! " exclaimed 
 the lord when he heard these words. 
 
 He sent off at once for workmen to come 
 
Fairies 89 
 
 to the fairy hill. They were to bring pickaxes 
 and spades. 
 
 " Dig without stopping," was his command. 
 " Dig till you come to the fairy palace." 
 
 A great company of men was soon at work. 
 The air rang with the noise of their spades 
 striking against the rocks and earth. 
 
 When night came they had made a tunnel 
 into the very heart of the hill. They went 
 home to rest, and with the first light of morn- 
 ing they came back to go on with their work. 
 
 But, behold ! The hill looked as though 
 no man had touched it. The dirt had all 
 been replaced at the order of the powerful 
 fairy king, Finvarra. 
 
 The young lord did not give up hope, 
 however. The men were set to work again, 
 and again the same thing happened as before. 
 The work of the day was undone the next 
 night. A third time the lord tried, and a 
 third time he failed. 
 
90 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 He was overcome by sorrow and disap- 
 pointment, when he heard a soft voice speak- 
 ing somewhere near him. It said : 
 
 "If you sprinkle salt over the earth the 
 men dig up, Finvarra will have no power 
 over it." 
 
 Once more the young lord was rilled with 
 hope. He sent out into the land in every 
 direction to get quantities of salt from the 
 people. And when the workmen stopped 
 digging at nightfall, the salt was plentifully 
 sprinkled over the earth. 
 
 How anxious the young lord was now ! 
 Had he really found a way of defeating the 
 fairies ? The next morning he eagerly hurried 
 to the hill to see. 
 
 What the voice said was really true. The 
 tunnel was just as it had been left the night 
 before. Another day's work was enough to 
 see it dug clear to the middle of the hill, 
 and far down into the earth. 
 
Fairies 91 
 
 And then the men, putting their ears to 
 the ground, could hear fairy music. Voices, 
 too, could be heard around them. This is 
 what they heard : 
 
 " Finvarra is sad at heart. It is no wonder. 
 His palace will crumble to dust, if one of these 
 mortals touches it with his spade." 
 
 " Why does he not save us then, and give 
 up the young bride ? " said another voice. 
 
 Then King Finvarra himself spoke, in a 
 true kingly way. He commanded the work- 
 men to stop digging, promising that at sunset 
 he would give Ethna up to her husband. 
 
 The young lord was glad of heart, and told 
 the men to lay down their spades. He could 
 hardly wait for evening to come. But it did 
 come at last, and found the impatient husband 
 sitting on his handsome horse and waiting by 
 the hillside for his bride. 
 
 As the sun lighted the western sky with his 
 most glorious colours, Ethna, dressed in her 
 
92 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 silver robe, appeared in the pathway before 
 her husband. 
 
 He swept her from the ground in his strong 
 arms, and away they galloped back to the 
 castle. 
 
 But it was not the same Ethna as before 
 the fairy spell had been cast upon her. Oh, 
 no ! She seemed like one half-asleep. Day 
 after day she lay on her bed with her eyes 
 closed. She did not move or speak. 
 
 "She has eaten of the fairy food," said the 
 people. " It will be impossible to break 
 the spell that has been cast upon her." And 
 every one was filled with grief. 
 
 Three months passed by with no change 
 in Ethna. One night, as the young lord was 
 riding through the country, he heard a voice 
 speaking near him. It said : 
 
 " The young husband won back his beauti- 
 ful bride. But what good has it done him ? 
 Her spirit is still with the fairies, and, as 
 
Fairies 93 
 
 far as he is concerned, she is like one 
 dead." 
 
 As soon as this voice became silent, an- 
 other could be heard, saying : 
 
 " There is one way to break the fairy spell. 
 Her husband must take off her girdle and 
 burn it. Then he must scatter the ashes 
 before the door. He must not forget to take 
 the enchanted pin by which the girdle is now 
 fastened and bury it in a deep hole in the 
 earth. This is the only way of regaining 
 the spirit of his wife." 
 
 At these words the young lord was filled 
 with new hope. 
 
 He hurried home as fast as his swiftest 
 horse could carry him, and went at once to 
 the room of his sleeping wife. 
 
 He hastened to her side, and began to do 
 exactly as the voice had directed. 
 
 He drew out the enchanted pin. He re- 
 moved the girdle. He burned it in the fire. 
 
94 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 Then, carefully gathering the ashes, he scat- 
 tered them before the door. The enchanted 
 pin was buried in a deep hole. 
 
 He went anxiously back to Ethna's room. 
 
 She was already coming back to life. As 
 her husband stood at her side, she began to 
 smile at him in her old, sweet way. 
 
 And now she moved and spoke, and took 
 up her life as in the days before the fairy spell 
 was cast upon her. 
 
 Her husband and all others in the castle 
 were filled with happiness. There was great 
 rejoicing. The beautiful Ethna was safe, and 
 King Finvarra never again tried to win her to 
 the fairy realm. 
 
 Is it a true story? some one asks. If you 
 do not believe it, you need only go to the hill 
 through which the tunnel was dug. It can be 
 seen, even now. And people still call it the 
 Fairies' Glen. 
 
 When Norah's father finished the story, the 
 
Fairies 95 
 
 children begged him to tell "just one more, 
 plaze." But he pointed to the clock. 
 
 " Late, late it is for you childer to be up," 
 he said. " It is to bed ye must go this very 
 minute." 
 
 A quarter of an hour afterward, every one 
 in the little cabin was settled for the night. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BLARNEY CASTLE 
 
 Norah's friend, Mollie, had just got home 
 from a long journey. At least it seemed a 
 long one to Norah, who had never been 
 farther away from home than the Lakes of 
 Killarney. 
 
 Mollie had been all the way to Cork and 
 Queenstown with her father and mother. 
 They went to see Mollie's uncle start for 
 America on a big steamer. 
 
 Queenstown is at the mouth of the River 
 Lee. It used to be called the Cove of Cork, 
 but the name was changed to Queenstown in 
 honour of Queen Victoria. 
 
 It seemed a very big place to Mollie. As 
 
 she described the queer cars running through 
 
 the city, and the great steamers at the docks, 
 
 96 
 
Blarney Castle 97 
 
 it was a wonderful picture that little Norah 
 saw in her mind. 
 
 Mollie had gone there in a railway train. 
 When the guard shut her and her parents 
 inside the car and locked the door, she was 
 a little frightened at first. Then the engine 
 gave a fearful shriek, and the train moved. 
 
 There were many other people in the car, 
 or rather " compartment of the railway car- 
 riage," as they call it in the British Isles. 
 Their cars are divided into three or four 
 parts, with doors opening on the sides. Each 
 part is called a compartment. 
 
 It was quite a jolly crowd. Every one 
 seemed in good humour, and strangers were 
 soon talking together as if they had always 
 known each other. They told funny stories, 
 they joked and laughed, and Mollie soon 
 forgot her fear of the fast moving train. " It 
 was just like a party," she told Norah. 
 
 At every station, the guard unlocked the 
 
98 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 door and let out those who were going no 
 farther. Others then got in, so the company 
 was changing all the time. 
 
 The compartment in which Mollie rode 
 was a third-class one, and the floor and seats 
 were quite bare. But these things did not 
 trouble the little girl. Her parents could not 
 afford to buy tickets to go first or second- 
 class. They were glad enough to be able 
 to go at all. 
 
 Cork was reached at last, and Mollie could 
 hardly sleep nights after going about the city 
 in the daytime and seeing the strange sights. 
 
 When her uncle had gone away on the big 
 steamer, she went with her father and mother 
 into some of the mills and factories. She 
 saw glass spun into beautiful shapes, woollen 
 cloths woven by huge machines, and many 
 other things made as if by magic. 
 
 " Sure, it seems as if these big wheels 
 must be turned by the fairies," she said to 
 
Blarney Castle 99 
 
 .Norah, as she told her little friend of what 
 she had seen. 
 
 It was all very interesting, but Norah 
 liked best of all to hear of Mollie's visit 
 to Blarney Castle. She asked her to repeat 
 it over and over again. 
 
 Not far away from Cork is the busy little 
 town of Blarney. And a little way out 
 from Blarney is an old, old castle which 
 is visited by people from all over the 
 world. 
 
 Did you ever hear of the Blarney Stone ? 
 Or did you ever hear one person say to 
 another, who has made a very polite or flat- 
 tering speech, " Well, well, I think you must 
 have kissed the Blarney Stone ? " 
 
 Perhaps you did not understand the rea- 
 son for such a remark. Now you shall 
 hear it. 
 
 If you ever climb to the top of the walls 
 of Blarney Castle and look down over the 
 
ioo Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 walls on the outside, you will see a certain 
 stone. 
 
 It is a magic stone, you may be told. 
 It has a great charm, for, if you kiss it, 
 you will be blessed ever after with the power 
 of eloquent speech. Your words to charm 
 and wheedle will never fail you. You will 
 always be able to say the right thing in the 
 right place at the right time. You will say it 
 so well you will make yourself very pleasing 
 to your listeners. 
 
 But how is anybody able to kiss the 
 Blarney Stone? It is too far down to be 
 reached from the top, and too far up to 
 be reached from the bottom. There is only 
 one way. You must have a rope tied to 
 your waist, and trust some one to let you 
 down over the wall till you reach it. 
 
 There are some people foolish enough 
 to do this very thing. 
 
 As Mollie stood looking and wishing she 
 
MOLLIE AND HER FATHER VISIT BLARNEY CASTLE. 
 
Blarney Castle 101 
 
 dared try it, she heard some one telling a 
 story. It was about a young man who got 
 his friends to lower him out over the wall. 
 
 But, just as his lips touched the stone, a 
 shower of coins fell to the ground below. 
 The young man had forgotten to take the 
 money out of his pockets. 
 
 Every one laughed at the story, and 
 Mollie wished she could have been there to 
 see the funny sight. 
 
 " I didn't kiss the real Blarney Stone," 
 she told Norah. "But there was one inside 
 the walls. It was a sort of make-believe 
 Blarney Stone, and we all kissed that in- 
 stead." 
 
 " Daniel O'Connell must have been to 
 Blarney Castle and kissed the stone," said 
 Norah, quite seriously. " How else could 
 he have had the power to move every one 
 by his words? He was a great man. When 
 I grow up, I'll be after going to the great 
 
102 Our Little Irish Cousin 
 
 city of Dublin to see his monimint. You 
 see if I don't, Mollie darlint." 
 
 " Maybe we'll be going together, Norah," 
 was the answer. 
 
 And the two little girls skipped arm in 
 arm across the fields of the beautiful Emerald 
 Isle. 
 
 THE END.