17. The Legend of Lough Gur
18. The Fairy Nurse

The Legend of Lough Gur

Larry Cotter had a farm on one side of Lough Gur in the county of Limerick and was thriving and industrious and could have lived quietly and soberly but for the misfortune that came on him:

He had as nice a bit of meadow-land down by the water-side, as ever a man would wish for; but nothing would grow there, and no one could tell how. One year after the other it was all ruined, but not a single stone of the stone wall surrounding the field was disturbed; neither could his neighbours' cattle have been guilty of the trespass, for they were fettered. Still, the grass of the meadow was destroyed, and it was a great loss to Larry.

"What in the world will I do?" said Larry Cotter to his neighbour, Tom Welch, who was a decent fellow himself.

Welch replied, "The times are bad, no doubt, but maybe if you keep watch by night you might make out all about it. Mick and Terry, my two boys, will watch with you."

Accordingly, next night, Larry Cotter and Welch's two sons, placed themselves in a corner of the meadow. A full of the moon was shining beautifully on the lake, which was as calm as the sky itself; not a cloud was to be seen anywhere, nor a sound to be heard but the cry of the corncreaks answering one another across the water.

"Boys, boys!" whispered Larry, "look there! look there! But don't make any noise, nor stir a step till I say the word."

They looked, and saw a great fat cow that was followed by seven milk-white heifers on the smooth surface of the lake towards the meadow.

"Now, boys " said Larry Cotter when he saw the fine cow and her seven white heifers coming into the meadow, "get between them and the lake if you can, and, no matter who they belong to, we'll just put them into the pound."

But the cow must have overheard Larry speaking, for down she went in a great hurry to the shore of the lake, and into it with her, before all their eyes: away made the seven heifers after her. But the boys got down to the bank before them and could soon drive the heifers up to Larry Cotter.

Larry drove the seven heifers to the pound; but after he had them there for three days and could hear of no owner, he took them out and put them up in a field of his own. There he kept them. They were thriving well with him till one night the gate of the field was left open. In the morning the seven heifers were gone. Larry could not get any account of them afterwards, nor could he make the grass of the field grow. Wherever the heifters came from or who they belonged to, he could not find out. So he took to drink, and it was the drink that killed him, they say.

[From Myths and Legends of Ireland by Samuel Lover and Thomas Croker]

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The Fairy Nurse

Once a farmer and his wife lived near Coolgarrow. They had three children, and the youngest was a baby. The wife was a good wife with her mind on her family and her farm.

One night the farmer was wakened up by the cries of his children calling out "Mother! Mother!" When he sat up and rubbed his eyes, there was no wife by his side, and when he asked the little ones what was become of their mother, they said they saw the room full of nice little men and women, dressed in white and red and green, and their mother in the middle of them, going out by the door as if she was walking in her sleep. Out he ran, and searched everywhere round the house but, neither tale nor tidings did he get of her for many a day.

The poor man was miserable enough, for he was as fond of his woman as she was of him. It brought salt tears down his cheeks to see his poor children neglected and dirty, but they were helped by a kind neighbour that used to look in whenever she could spare time. The infant was away with a nurse.

About six weeks after – just as he was going out to his work one morning – a neighbour came up to him and kept step by step with him to the field. This is what she told him:

"Just as I was falling asleep last night, I heard a horse's tramp on the grass and a knock at the door, and there, when I came out, was a fine-looking dark man, mounted on a black horse, and he told me to get ready in all haste, for a lady needed my help. As soon as I put on my cloak and things, he took me by the hand, and I was sitting behind him before I felt myself stirring.

"'Where are we going, sir?' I said.

"'You'll soon know,' he said.

"I kept a tight grip of him. At last we came to a bedroom, with a beautiful lady in bed, with a fine bouncing boy beside her. The lady clapped her hands, and in came the dark man and kissed her and the baby, and praised me, and gave me a bottle of green ointment to rub the child all over.

"I rubbed the child, but my right eye began to smart, and I put up my finger and gave it a rub, and then stared - the beautiful room was a cave, and the rich dresses were rags.

"After a bit the dark man said, 'Go before me to the hall door, and I will be with you in a few moments, and see you safe home.'

"Well, just as I turned into the outside cave, I saw your poor Molly. She looked round all terrified, and said to me in a whisper, 'I'm brought here to nurse the child of the king and queen of the fairies; but there is one chance of saving me. All the court will pass the cross near Templeshambo next Friday night, on a visit to the fairies of Old Ross. If John can catch me by the hand or cloak when I ride by, and has courage not to let go his grip, I'll be safe. Here's the king. Don't open your mouth to answer. I saw what happened with the ointment.'

"The dark man didn't once cast his eye towards Molly, and he seemed to have no suspicion of me. When we came out I looked about me, and where do you think we were but in the dyke of the Rath of Cromogue. Soon I found myself in my own cabin. The king slipped five guineas into my hand. I couldn't sleep for a long time. When I examined my five guineas this morning, that I left in the table drawer the last thing, I found five withered oak leaves!"

When Friday night came, the farmer and the neighbour woman were standing where the mountain road crosses the one going to Ross.

There they stood, looking towards the bridge of Thuar, in the dead of the night. A little moonlight was shining from over Kilachdiarmid. At last she gave a start, and said to him, trembling and her eyes wide open, looking down the way to the ford of Ballinacoola: "Here they come, bridles jingling and feathers tossing!"

He looked, but could see nothing down the way to the ford of Ballinacoola.

"I see your wife," the neighbour said,, "riding on the outside just so as to rub against us. We'll walk on quietly, as if we suspect nothing, and when we are passing I'll give you a shove. If you don't do YOUR duty then, woe be with you!"

They walked on easy, their hearts beating in their breasts. Though the farmer could see nothing, he heard a faint jingle and trampling and rustling. At last he got the push! He spread out his arms, and there was his wife's waist within them and he could see her plainly. But such a hullabaloo rose as if there was an earthquake, and he found himself surrounded by horrible-looking things. They were roaring at him and striving to pull his wife away. But he bid them begone and held his wife as if his arms were made of iron. In one moment everything became silent, and the farmer's wife was lying in a faint in the arms of har husband and her good neighbour.

Well, all in good time she was minding her family and her business again and avoided fairy men all the days of the week - particularly on Sunday.

[Retold. "Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts," by Patrick Kennedy.]