Irish Folk Tales (19 page)

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Authors: Henry Glassie

BOOK: Irish Folk Tales
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The short green man and his people went away then, and the king of Ireland’s son never saw them again. He brought his wife home with him, and they spent a happy life with one another.

 

THE SHRINE OF SAINT MOGUE

Margaret Stokes,
Early Christian Art in Ireland
, 1890

T
HE BAPTISM OF CONOR M
AC
NESSA

SEOSAMH Ó COLLA
DONEGAL
SEAN O’SULLIVAN
1938

Long ago people were few, and the priests used to travel about saying Mass and spending a night here and there. Some of them arrived at a house and they asked the boy to go out and cut some rushes with a sickle to make a bed. The boy went out to a clump of rushes, and a voice spoke to him from out the clump:

“Don’t put me out of my dwelling.”

The boy went away from the clump and told the priests in the house what had happened.

“Didn’t you bring the rushes?” they asked.

“No, Father,” said he to one of them. “If I told you what I have heard, you wouldn’t go there either.”

“Come along and show me where this was said.”

They went out to the clump. The priest put on his stole and read something, and a voice spoke from the clump.

“Who are you?” asked the priest.

“I am Conor of Ulster,” said the voice.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since the Savior was crucified,” said the voice.

“And what put you here?” asked the priest.

“It happened this way. I was in a battle, and a piece of something entered my skull. When I heard later on that the Savior was crucified, frenzy came upon me. I went out into the woods with my sword, and the piece fell out of my skull, and I died. The Savior then put my soul into my skull until the Day of Judgment.”

“I’ll baptize you now, and you will go to Heaven,” said the priest.

“Must I die a second time?” asked the voice.

“You must.”

“Oh, Father, I’d rather stay in my skull until the Day of Judgment,” said the voice.

When the priest heard these words, tears fell from his eyes down on the clump, and Conor of Ulster immediately rose up from it like an angel.

“I’m on my way to Heaven now, Father!” said he. “Your tears have baptized me!”

S
AINT PATRICK

GALWAY
LADY GREGORY
1926

There were many great saints in Ireland, but Saint Patrick was the bush among them all. He used to be traveling and blessing all before him.

He was about seventy years when God bade him come to Ireland, and he didn’t like to be put out of his way, being old, and he said he would not come.

So then God said if he would not come he would give him a bad next-door neighbor that would be fighting and quarreling and slandering him.

So when he heard that, he said it would be as good to go to Ireland.

S
AINT PATRICK ON INISHMORE

HUGH NOLAN
FERMANAGH
HENRY GLASSIE
1972

Well, the principal story that ever I heard related, it was when Saint Patrick came to Ireland.

He landed down south and he traveled on towards the north.

And you’d think for to hear about Saint Patrick that he was just a lonely missioner that landed in this country, and he had nobody
along
with him.

But he had a very big contingent.

He had tradesmen of all classes.

And there was a staff of women for to make vestments (that’d be the robes that the priest would be wearing while he would be saying the Mass), and for to make all the linens in connection with the altars. He had them.

And he had men then for making the altar vessels and everything that was a-wanting.

And then he had men for looking after the horses and keeping them shod and keeping them
right
.

But they traveled on anyway and finally they got as far as Inishmore.

They come on right up from the south of Ireland and they were traveling through Inishmore on this occasion.

And didn’t the horse that he was riding upset, he slipped and he hurted his back, and of course he wasn’t able to get up.

So there was some kind of an herb, or something in the grass,

and Saint Patrick lifted it up
and he rubbed it to the horse’s back,
and the horse jumped up.

Well, for years and years after, there used to come people from all airts and parts where they’d get hurts, or bruises, or cuts or anything.

And there was people, they were the name of Nobles.

And they were Protestant farmers.

And it was on
their
land that this herb was.

And they were all the men that knew it or could point it out.

So they used to point it out to these people.

And they used to apply it.

So I haven’t heard any word now about it this long time, because the family died out, do ye know, and whether they bequeathed this knowledge they had to anyone else, I never heard.

But they knew it, and they would point it out to you or me or any other person that was suffering.

The herb was known as dho. That was the name of it.

S
AINT PATRICK AND CROM DUBH

MICHAEL M
AC
RUAIDHRI
MAYO
DOUGLAS HYDE
1915

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