Whats an Irish Story Thats Told Over and Over Again That Starts With an L
The Leprechaun
Republic of ireland'due south Fairy Shoemakeredited by
D. L. Ashliman
© 2016
Contents
- Variant spellings and designations.
- Lepreghaun (Lady Morgan Sydney).
- The Field of Boliauns [Ragweed] (Thomas Crofton Croker).
- The Little Shoe (Thomas Crofton Croker).
- Cluricaune or Leprehaune (Thomas Crofton Croker).
- The Three Leprechauns (Thomas Keightley).
- The Kildare Lurikeen (Patrick Kennedy).
- The Leprehaun (Lady Wilde).
- The Solitary Fairies: Lepracaun, Cluricaun, Far Darrig (William Butler Yeats).
- The Maker of Brogues (Brampton Hunt).
Render to D. L. Ashliman'due south folktexts , a library of folktales, sociology, fairy tales, and mythology.
Variant spellings and designations
- Cluricaune
- Leipreachán
- Lepracaun
- Leprawhaun
- Leprechan
- Leprechaun
- Leprechawn
- Leprehaun
- Leprehaune
- Leprighaun
- Logheriman
- Lurikeen
Lepreghaun
Lady Morgan Sydney
It would be extremely difficult to class this supernatural agent, who holds a distinguished place in the Irish "Faerie." His advent, however, is supposed to be that of a shrivelled little erstwhile man, whose presence marks a spot where subconscious treasures lie concealed, which were buried there in "the troubles."He is, therefore, generally seen in lonely and dismal places, out of the common haunts of man; and though the night-wanderer may endeavor to mark the place where he beheld the guardian of the treasures perched, yet when he returns in the forenoon with proper implements to turn upwardly the earth, the thistle, stone, or branch, he had placed every bit a mark, is so multiplied, that it is no longer a distinction, and the disappointments occasioned by the malignity of the fiddling Lepreghaun render him a very unpopular fairy. His proper name is never applied but as a term of antipathy.
- Source (books.google.com): Lady Morgan Sydney (belatedly Miss Owenson), O'Donnel: A National Tale, new edition, vol. 2 (London: Henry Colburn, 1815), pp. 328-29.
- Return to the table of contents.
The Field of Boliauns [Ragweed]
Thomas Crofton Croker
Tom Fitzpatrick was the eldest son of a comfy farmer who lived at Ballincollig. Tom was just turned of nine-and-xx, when he met the following take a chance, and was every bit clever, clean, tight, good-looking a boy as whatever in the whole canton Cork.One fine twenty-four hours in harvest -- it was indeed Lady-day in harvest, that every body knows to exist 1 of the greatest holidays in the year -- Tom was taking a ramble through the ground, and went sauntering along the sunny side of a hedge, thinking in himself, where would be the swell harm if people, instead of idling and going about doing zip at all, were to shake out the hay, and bind and stook the oats that was lying on the ledge, 'specially equally the weather condition had been rather broken of late, he all of a sudden heard a clacking sort of noise a fiddling before him, in the hedge.
"Dear me," said Tom, "but isn't it surprising to hear the stonechatters singing so late in the flavor?"
And so Tom stole on, going on the tops of his toes to effort if he could get a sight of what was making the racket, to see if he was correct in his guess. The noise stopped; but as Tom looked sharply through the bushes, what should he see in a nook of the hedge just a chocolate-brown pitcher that might concord about a gallon and a half of liquor; and past and by a little wee diny dony fleck of an former human being, with a little motty of a cocked chapeau stuck upon the top of his caput, and a deeshy daushy leather apron hanging before him, pulled out a little wooden stool, and stood up upon it and dipped a little piggin into the pitcher, and took out the full of it, and put it beside the stool, and then sat downward nether the pitcher, and began to piece of work at putting a heel-slice on a bit of a brogue but plumbing equipment for himself.
"Well, by the powers!" said Tom to himself, "I often heard tell of the Cluricaune; and, to tell God'south truth, I never rightly believed in them -- just hither's one of them in real earnest. If I go knowingly to work, I'm a made man. They say a body must never accept their eyes off them, or they'll escape.''
Tom at present stole on a petty farther, with his eye fixed on the little human just equally a true cat does with a mouse, or, equally nosotros read in books, the rattle-snake does with the birds he wants to enchant.
So when he got upwards quite shut to him, "God bless your work, neighbor," said Tom.
The piddling homo raised up his caput, and "Give thanks you kindly," said he.
"I wonder yous'd be working on the holyday?" said Tom.
"That's my own business, not yours," was the answer.
"Well, may be you'd exist civil enough to tell united states what you've got in the pitcher there?" said Tom.
"That I volition, with pleasance," said he: "Information technology's good beer."
"Beer!" said Tom: "Thunder and fire! Where did you get information technology?"
"Where did I go it, is it? Why, I made information technology. And what practice you think I made it of?"
"Devil a one of me knows," said Tom, "but of malt, I suppose; what else?"
"There y'all're out. I made information technology of heath."
"Of heath!" said Tom, bursting out laughing: "Certain y'all don't think me to be such a fool as to believe that?"
"Do as you please," said he, "simply what I tell you is the truth. Did y'all never hear tell of the Danes?"
"And that I did," said Tom: "Weren't them the fellows we gave such a licking when they thought to accept Limerick from u.s.?"
"Hem!" said the little man drily -- "Is that all you know about the matter?"
"Well, but well-nigh them Danes?" said Tom.
"Why, all the about them in that location is, is that when they were hither they taught us to brand beer out of the heath, and the hush-hush's in my family unit e'er since."
"Will y'all give a torso a taste of your beer?" said Tom.
"I'll tell y'all what it is, boyfriend -- Information technology would be fitter for you to exist looking after your male parent's property than to be bothering decent, quiet people with your foolish questions. There now, while you're idling away your fourth dimension here, there'south the cows have broke into the oats, and are knocking the corn all nearly."
Tom was taken so by surprise with this, that he was merely on the very signal of turning round when he recollected himself; and then, afraid that the like might happen again, he made a grab [grasp] at the Cluricaune, and defenseless him upwardly in his hand; but in his hurry he overset the pitcher, and spilt all the beer, so that he could not get a taste of it to tell what sort information technology was. He so swore what he would not do to him if he did not testify him where his money was.
Tom looked and so wicked and and then bloody-minded, that the little man was quite frightened; so, says he, "Come along with me a couple of fields off, and I'll show you a crock of gilded."
Then they went, and Tom held the Cluricaune fast in his hand, and never took his eyes from off him, though they had to cross hedges, and ditches, and a crooked chip of bog (for the Cluricaune seemed, out of pure mischief, to pick out the hardest and most contrary way), till at concluding they came to a great field all full of boliaun buies (ragweed), and the Cluricaune pointed to a big boliaun, and, says he, "Dig under that boliaun, and you'll go the great crock all full of guineas."
Tom in his hurry had never minded the bringing a spade with him, so he thought to run home and fetch ane; and that he might know the identify once again, he took off one of his red garters, and tied it round the boliaun.
"I suppose," said the Cluricaune, very civilly, "you lot've no farther occasion for me?"
"No," says Tom; "you lot may go away now, if you please, and God speed you, and may good luck attend you wherever you go."
"Well, expert-bye to yous, Tom Fitzpatrick," said the Cluricaune, "and much good may exercise you, with what you 'll go."
So Tom ran, for the dear life, till he came home, and got a spade, and then abroad with him, as hard as he could go, dorsum to the field of boliauns; only when he got there, lo, and behold! not a boliaun in the field simply had a reddish garter, the very identical model of his ain, tied virtually information technology; and equally to digging up the whole field, that was all nonsense, for in that location was more than forty adept Irish acres in information technology.
Then Tom came dwelling house again with his spade on his shoulder, a picayune libation than he went; and many'due south the hearty curse he gave the Cluricaune every time he thought of the bully turn he had served him.
The following is the account given past Lady Morgan, of the Cluricaune or Leprechan, in her excellent novel of O'Donnell (vol. 2. p. 246.) which has been referred to in a preceding note. "It would exist extremely difficult," says her ladyship, "to class this supernatural agent, who holds a distinguished place in the Irish 'fairies.' His appearance, even so, is supposed to be that of a shrivelled piffling onetime man, whose presence marks a spot where hidden treasures prevarication concealed, which were buried there in 'the troubles.' He is therefore generally seen in lonely and dismal places, out of the common haunts of man; and though the night wanderer may endeavor to mark the place where he beheld the guardian of the treasures perched, yet when he returns in the morning with proper implements to plow up the earth, the thistle, stone, or branch he had placed as a mark is so multiplied, that information technology is no longer a distinction; and the disappointments occasioned by the malignity of the little Leprechan return him a very unpopular fairy: His name is never applied but as a term of contempt."
- Source (books.google.com): Thomas Crofton Croker, Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Republic of ireland (London: John Murray, 1825), pp. 199-205.
- Source (Internet Annal): Thomas Crofton Croker, Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland (London: John Murray, 1825), pp. 199-205.
- Return to the tabular array of contents.
The Little Shoe
Thomas Crofton Croker
"Now tell me, Molly," said Mr. Coote to Molly Cogan, as he met her on the road one solar day, close to one of the old gateways of Kilmallock, "did you ever hear of the Cluricaune?""Is information technology the Cluricaune? Why, then, sure I did, often and oft; many's the time I heard my father, balance his soul! tell about, 'em over and over once again."
"But did you ever encounter one, Molly -- did you ever run across i yourself?"
"Och! no, I never see one in my life; but my grandfather, that'south my begetter's male parent, you know, he encounter 1, i time, and defenseless him too."
"Defenseless him! Oh! Molly, tell me how was that?"
"Why, then, I'll tell you:"
My granddad, y'all run into, was out there above in the bog, drawing home turf, and the poor sometime mare was tired after her day'due south work, and the old man went out to the stable to wait after her, and to see if she was eating her hay; and when he came to the stable-door at that place, my dear, he heard something hammering, hammering, hammering, just for all the world like a shoemaker making a shoe, and whistling all the fourth dimension the prettiest tune he always heard in his whole life before. Well, my granddad, he thought it was the Cluricaune, and he said to himself, says he, "I'll take hold of you, if I tin can, and then I'll have money enough always."
And then he opened the door very quietly, and didn't brand a bit of dissonance in the world that ever was heard; and he looked all most, only the never a chip of the lilliputian man he could see any where, but he heard him hammering and whistling, and and so he looked and looked, till at terminal he run into the little fellow; and where was he, practise you recollect, but in the girth under the mare; and there he was with his little bit of an apron on him, and his hammer in his hand, and a little red nightcap on his head, and he making a shoe; and he was so busy with his work, and he was hammering and whistling so loud, that he never minded my grandpa till he defenseless him fast in his hand.
"Faith, I take you now," says he, "and I'll never let you go till I get your purse -- that's what I won't; so give it here to me at once, now."
"Cease, stop," says the Cluricaune, "cease, cease, says he, till I go it for you."
So my grandfather, like a fool, you see, opened his hand a piddling, and the fiddling young man jumped away laughing, and he never saw him any more, and the never a fleck of the purse did he get, only the Cluricaune left his fiddling shoe that he was making; and my granddaddy was mad enough angry with himself for letting him get; simply he had the shoe all his life, and my ain mother told me she oft encounter it, and had it in her manus, and 'twas the prettiest little shoe she ever saw.
"And did y'all see it yourself, Molly?"
"Oh! no, my dear, it was lost long afore I was born; simply my mother told me most it frequently and often enough."
There is nothing very foreign in the circumstance of Molly'south grandfather becoming the possessor of a Cluricaune's shoe, for even in the present century, when these little people are supposed to have grown more shy and cautious of letting themselves be seen or heard, persons accept been fortunate enough to go their shoes, though the purse withal eludes them.
In a Kilkenny newspaper, published not more 3 years ago, there was a paragraph (which paragraph was copied into well-nigh of the Irish papers) stating that a peasant returning dwelling in the dusk of the evening, discovered ane of these trivial folk at piece of work, and as the workman, as usual, contrived to brand his escape, the peasant secured the shoe to evidence of the fact, which shoe, to satisfy public marvel, lay for inspection at the function of the said paper. It is therefore non impossible that this specimen of Cluricaune cordwainry may notwithstanding exist.
- Source (books.google.com): Thomas Crofton Croker, Fairy Legends and Traditions of the Southward of Ireland (London: John Murray, 1825), pp. 211-14.
- Source (Internet Annal): Thomas Crofton Croker, Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland (London: John Murray, 1825), pp. 211-fourteen.
- Return to the tabular array of contents.
Cluricaune or Leprehaune
Thomas Crofton Croker
Cluricaune or Leprehaune is the proper noun given to the Irish Puck. The character of this goblin is a chemical compound of that of the Scotch Brownie and the English language Robin Goodfellow. He is depicted (for engraved portraits of the Irish Leprehaune are in existence) as a pocket-size and withered old human, completely equipped in the costume of a cobler, and employed in repairing a shoe. A paragraph recently appeared in a Kilkenny paper stating, that a labourer, returning home in the dusk of the evening, discovered a Leprehaune at piece of work, from whom he bore away the shoe which he was mending; every bit a proof of the veracity of his story information technology was farther stated, that the shoe lay for the inspection of the curious at the newspaper role.The virtually prominent feature in the vulgar creed respecting the Leprehaune is, his being the owner of a purse, supposed to be, like that of Fortunatus, inexhaustible; and many persons, who have surprized one of these fairies occupied in shoe-making, have endeavoured to compel him to evangelize it; this he has ingeniously avoided, averting the eye of his antagonist by some stratagem, when he disappears, which it seems he has not the power of doing as long as any person's gaze is stock-still upon him.
- Source (books.google.com): Thomas Crofton Croker, Researches in the South of Ireland, Illustrative of the Scenery, Architectural Remains, and the Manners and Superstitions of the Peasantry (London: John Murray, 1824), p. 84.
- Source (Cyberspace Archive): Thomas Crofton Croker, Researches in the South of Republic of ireland, Illustrative of the Scenery, Architectural Remains, and the Manners and Superstitions of the Peasantry (London: John Murray, 1824), p. 84.
- Return to the table of contents.
The 3 Leprechauns
Thomas Keightley
The Cluricaune, called in Leinster Leprechaun, in Ulster Logheriman, seems a existence peculiar to Republic of ireland. There is a curious bibelot in his graphic symbol. His habits and occupation are what we might exist apt to term social, and yet he in general avoids society, and works at his eternal brogues in lonely glens, bleak bogs, or the middle of fields, and never seems to arroyo nearer than the garden, of man habitations.Yet it is an mistake to suppose that the Leprechauns are never seen in company. The following account, given past an old woman to the writer's sister, is directly and unimpeachable evidence to the opposite. As in narrating stories of Irish gaelic Fairies, the canonical and the best receipt is to give the whole scene of the narrative with its accompaniments, we shall not here depart from established precedents.
The Three Leprechauns
Mrs. L. having heard that Molly Toole, an old adult female who held a few acres of land from Mr. Fifty., had seen Leprechauns, resolved to visit her, and acquire the truth from her own lips. Appropriately, one Sunday, after church, she made her appearance in Molly's residence, which was -- no very common thing -- extremely neat and comfortable.
Equally she entered every thing looked gay and cheerful. The sun shone bright in through the door on the earthen floor. Molly was seated at the far side of the fire in her arm-chair; her daughter Mary, the prettiest girl on the lands, was looking to the dinner that was boiling; and her son Mickey, a boyfriend of about two-and-twenty, was standing lolling with his back confronting the dresser.
The arrival of the mistress disturbed the stillness that had hitherto prevailed. Mary, who was a bully favourite, hastened to the door to meet her, and shake hands with her. Molly herself had nearly got to the middle of the floor when the mistress met her, and Mickey modestly staid where he was till he should take hold of her attending.
"O so, musha! but isn't it a glad sight for my old eyes to see your own self under my roof? Mary, what ails you, girl? And why don't you lot go into the room and fetch out a good chair for the mistress to sit down upon and rest herself?"
"'Deed faith, mother, I'grand so glad I don't know what I'm doing. Sure you know I did non meet the mistress since she came downwards afore."
Mickey at present caught Mrs. L.'s centre, and she asked him how he did.
"By Gorra, bravely, ma'am, thank you," said he, giving himself a wriggle, while his ii easily and the modest of his back rested on the edge of the dresser.
"Now, Mary, stir yourself," said the sometime woman, "and go out the staff of life and butter. Sure you know the mistress can't but be hungry subsequently her walk."
"O, never mind it, Molly; it's likewise much trouble."
"Trouble, indeed! It'south as nice butter, ma'am, as ever yous put a tooth in; and it was Mary herself that made it."
"O, then I must taste it."
A overnice half griddle of whole-meal staff of life and a impress of fresh butter were now produced, and Molly helped the mistress with her own hands.
As she was eating, Mary kept looking in her face, and at concluding said, "Ah so, mother, doesn't the mistress wait mighty well? Upon my faikins, ma'am, I never seen you looking half so handsome."
"Well! and why wouldn't she expect well? And never volition she await better nor be better nor I wish her."
"Well, Molly, I think I may return the compliment, for Mary is prettier than ever; and as for yourself, I actually believe information technology's immature once again you're growing."
"Why, God be thanked, ma'am, I'm stout and hearty; and though I say it myself, there 's non an old woman in the county can stir virtually ameliorate nor me, and I'm upwards every morning at the peep of day, and rout them all upward out of their beds. Don't I?" said she, looking at Mary.
"Organized religion, and sure you lot practice, mother," replied Mickey; "and before the peep of day, as well; for you have no mercy in you at all at all."
"Ah, in my young days," connected the old adult female, "people weren't slugabeds; out early, home late -- that was the manner with them."
"And usedn't people to run into Leprechauns in them days, female parent?" said Mickey, laughing.
"Hold your tongue, you saucy cub, you," cried Molly. "What do you know about them?"
" Leprechauns?" said Mrs. L., gladly communicable at the opportunity. "Did people really, Molly, see Leprechauns in your immature days?"
"Yes, indeed, ma'am; some people say they did," replied Molly, very composedly.
"O come up now, mother," cried Mickey, "don't think to be going information technology upon u.s. that way. You know you seen them one time yourself, and yous had not the gumption in you to catch them, and get their crocks of gold from them."
"Now, Molly, is that actually true that you saw the Leprechauns?"
"'Deed, and did I, ma'am; but this boy's always laughing at me about them, and that makes me rather shy of talking of them."
"Well, Molly, I won't express mirth at you; so, come, tell me how you saw them."
"Well, ma'am, you see information technology was when I was just about the age of Mary, in that location. I was coming abode late one Monday evening from the market; for my aunt Kitty, God exist merciful to her! kept me to have a cup of tea. Information technology was in the summer-fourth dimension yous see, ma'am, much near the centre of June, and information technology was through the fields I came. Well, ma'am, as I said, it was late in the evening, that is, the sun was near going down, and the low-cal was straight in my eyes, and I came forth through the bog-meadow; for information technology was shortly after I was married to him that's gone, and we were living in this very house that you lot're now in; and then when I came to the castle-field -- the pathway you lot know, ma'am, goes right through the middle of it -- and it was then equally fine a field of wheat, merely shot out, as you'd wish to look at; and it was a pretty sight to run into it waving so beautifully with every air of current of air that was going over information technology, dancing like to the music of a thrush, that was singing down beneath in the hedge. Well, ma'am, I crossed over the manner that'due south at that place nonetheless, and went along off-white and piece of cake, till I was near about the center of the field, when something made me cast my optics to the basis, a little before me; and so I saw, as certain as I 'm sitting here, no less nor iii of the Leprechauns, all bundled together similar so many tailors, in the middle of the path before me. They were not hammering their pumps, or making any kind of noise whatever; but there they were, the three picayune fellows, with their artsy hats upon them, and their legs gothered up under them, working away at their trade as hard every bit may be. If you were only to see, ma'am, how fast their little elbows went as they pulled out their ends! Well, every 1 of them had his centre artsy upon me, and their eyes were equally bright every bit the eye of a frog, and I could not stir one step from the spot for the life of me. And so I turned my head round, and prayed to the Lord in his mercy to deliver me from them, and when I went to expect at them once again, ma'am, non a sight of them was to exist seen: They were gone like a dream."
"But, Molly, why did you lot non grab them?''
"I was afeard, ma'am, that's the truth of information technology; merely possibly I was too without them. I never heard tell of a Leprechaun withal that was not as well many for any one that cotch him."
"Well, and Molly, practise you think there are whatsoever Leprechauns at present?"
"Information technology'south my belief, ma'am, they 're all gone out of the country, clever and make clean, along with the Fairies; for I never hear tell now of them at all."
Mrs. 50. having now attained her object, after a little more talk with the skillful old adult female, took her go out, attended by Mary, who would run into her a piece of the way home. And Mary being asked what she thought of the Leprechauns, confessed her inability to give a decided opinion: Her mother, she knew, was incapable of telling a prevarication, and all the same she had her doubts if there ever were such things as Leprechauns.
- Source (books.google.com): Thomas Keightley, The Fairy Mythology: Illustrative of the Romance and Superstition of Various Countries, vol. 2 (London: Whittaker, Treacher, and Company, 1833), pp. 179-86.
- Source (Cyberspace Annal): Thomas Keightley, The Fairy Mythology: Illustrative of the Romance and Superstition of Various Countries, vol. ii (London: Whittaker, Treacher, and Company, 1833), pp. 179-86.
- Return to the table of contents.
The Kildare Lurikeen
Patrick Kennedy
A young girl that lived in sight of Castle Carberry, about Edenderry, was going for a pitcher of h2o to the neighbouring well one summertime morning, when who should she see sitting in a sheltery nook under an one-time thorn, but the Lurikeen, working like vengeance at a piddling onetime brogue merely fit for the foot of a fairy like himself. In that location he was, deadening his holes, and jerking his waxed ends, with his lilliputian 3-cornered hat with gold lace, his articulatio genus-breeches, his jug of beer past his side, and his pipage in his rima oris. He was and so busy at his work, and so taken up with an old ballad he was singing in Irish, that he did not mind Breedheen till she had him by the scruff o' the neck, equally if he was in a vice."Ah, what are you doin'?" says he, turning his head circular as well as he could. "Dear, dear! to call back of such a purty colleen ketchin' a body, every bit if he was afther robbin' a hen roost! What did I do to be thrated in such an undecent fashion? The very vulgarest young ruffin in the townland could do no worse. Come, come, Miss Bridget, have your hands off, sit down, and let usa accept a chat, like two respectable people."
"Ah, Mr. Lurikeen, I don't care a wisp of borrach [course tow] for your politeness. It's your money I desire, and I won't take hand or centre from you till you put me in possession of a fine lob of it."
"Money, indeed! Ah! Where would a poor cobbler similar me get it? Anyhow there'southward no money hereabouts, and if you lot'll merely permit go my arms, I'll turn my pockets inside out, and open up the drawer of my seat, and give you leave to keep every halfpenny y'all'll notice."
"That won't do; my eyes'll go along going through you like darning needles till I have the gold. Begonies, if you don't make haste, I'll carry yous, head and pluck, into the hamlet, and there you lot'll have xxx pair of eyes on you instead of one."
"Well, well! Was e'er a poor cobbler so circumvented! And if it was an ignorant, ugly bosthoon that done it, I would not wonder; but a decent, comely daughter, that can read her 'Poor Man'due south Manual' at the chapel, and -- --"
"Y'all may throw your compliments on the stream there; they won't do for me, I tell you. The aureate, the aureate, the gilt! Don't take up my time with your blarney."
"Well, if at that place's any to be got, it's undher the ould castle it is; we must have a walk for it. Simply put me down, and we'll get on."
"Put you down indeed! I know a fob worth 2 of that; I'll carry you."
"Well, how suspicious we are! Do y'all run across the castle from this?"
Bridget was about turning her eyes from the little man to where she knew the castle stood, simply she bethought herself in time.
They went up a footling hill-side, and the Lurikeen was quite reconciled, and laughed and joked; but just as they got to the brow, he looked up over the ditch, gave a great screetch, and shouted merely as if a bugle horn was blew at her ears -- "Oh, murdher ! Castle Carberry is afire."
Poor Biddy gave a nifty beginning, and looked up towards the castle. The same moment she missed the weight of the Lurikeen, and when her optics savage where he was a moment before, there was no more sign of him than if everything that passed was a dream.
This passage in the natural history of the Lurikeen is furnished by the chronicler of the "Rath C.-Pooka." The only instance of a Wexford Lurikeen that we can recall, differs simply slightly from this. Wexford Molly was every bit vigilant as Kildare Biddy, and never took eye or hand off him till he pointed out the very stem of booliaun bui under which the treasure lay. There was no other weed of the kind within one-half the field of it at the moment, merely when Molly returned in half an hour, attended by father and brothers with spades and picks, all circular the spot, to a considerable distance, was as thick with booliauns as a plantation with young trees.
- Source (books.google.com): Patrick Kennedy, Legendary Fictions of the Irish gaelic Celts (London: Macmillan and Company, 1866), pp. 130-32.
- Source (Internet Annal): Patrick Kennedy, Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts (London: Macmillan and Company, 1866), pp. 130-32.
- Return to the table of contents.
The Leprehaun
Lady Wilde
The Leprehauns are merry, industrious, tricksy piddling sprites, who practice all the shoemaker's work and the tailor's and the cobbler's for the fairy gentry, and are often seen at sunset nether the hedge singing and stitching. They know all the secrets of hidden treasure, and if they have a fancy to a person will guide him to the spot in the fairy rath where the pot of gold lies buried.It is believed that a family now living near Oastlerea came by their riches in a strange way, all through the adept offices of a friendly Leprehaun. And the legend has been handed down through many generations equally an established fact.
In that location was a poor boy once, one of their forefathers, who used to drive his cart of turf daily dorsum and forwards, and make what coin he could past the sale; but he was a strange boy, very silent and moody, and the people said he was a fairy changeling, for he joined in no sports and scarcely ever spoke to any one, but spent the nights reading all the sometime bits of books he picked upwards in his rambles. The ane matter he longed for above all others was to become rich, and to be able to give up the old weary turf cart, and alive in peace and quietness all lonely, with nothing but books round him, in a beautiful house and garden all by himself.
Now he had read in the old books how the Leprehauns knew all the hush-hush places where gold lay hid, and day by day he watched for a sight of the piffling cobbler, and listened for the click, click of his hammer every bit he sat under the hedge mending the shoes.
At final, one evening simply as the sun ready, he saw a little young man nether a dock leaf, working away, dressed all in light-green, with a artsy hat on his head. Then the boy jumped down from the cart and seized him past the neck.
"Now, you don't stir from this," he cried, "till you tell me where to find the hidden gold."
"Easy at present," said the Leprehaun, "don't hurt me, and I volition tell you lot all about it. But heed you, I could hurt you if I chose, for I accept the ability; but I won't practise it, for we are cousins one time removed. So as we are near relations I'll just be good, and prove you the place of the secret gold that none can take or go on except those of fairy blood and race. Come along with me, then, to the old fort of Lipenshaw, for there it lies. But make haste, for when the last red glow of the sun vanishes the gold volition disappear too, and you will never find it again."
"Come off, then," said the boy, and he carried the Leprehaun into the turf cart, and drove off. And in a 2nd they were at the old fort, and went in through a door fabricated in the stone wall.
"At present, look circular," said the Leprehaun; and the boy saw the whole footing covered with aureate pieces, and in that location were vessels of silver lying about in such plenty that all the riches of all the earth seemed gathered there.
"Now take what you want," said the Leprehaun, "but hasten, for if that door shuts yous volition never leave this identify as long as you live."
And then the male child gathered upwards his artillery full of gold and silver, and flung them into the cart; and was on his style dorsum for more than when the door shut with a clap like thunder, and all the identify became dark as nighttime. And he saw no more of the Leprehaun, and had non fourth dimension fifty-fifty to thank him.
So he thought information technology best to drive abode at once with his treasure, and when he arrived and was all alone by himself he counted his riches, and all the vivid yellow gilt pieces, enough for a king's ransom.
And he was very wise and told no one; but went off next day to Dublin and put all his treasures into the banking company, and found that he was now indeed as rich as a lord.
And then he ordered a fine house to be congenital with spacious gardens, and he had servants and carriages and books to his heart'south content. And he gathered all the wise men round him to give him the learning of a gentleman; and he became a great and powerful man in the country, where his retentiveness is still held in high honour, and his descendants are living to this twenty-four hours rich and prosperous; for their wealth has never decreased though they accept ever given largely to the poor, and are noted above all things for the friendly middle and the liberal hand.
But the Leprehauns tin can be bitterly malicious if they are offended, and one should be very cautious in dealing with them, and always treat them with peachy civility, or they volition take revenge and never reveal the hush-hush of the subconscious golden.
One twenty-four hour period two young lad was out in the fields at work when he saw a little fellow, not the height of his mitt, mending shoes under a dock leaf. And he went over, never taking his eyes off him for fearfulness he would vanish away; and when he got quite close he made a catch at the fauna, and lifted him upwardly and put him in his pocket.
Then he ran away home as fast equally he could, and when he had the Leprehaun safety in the house, he tied him by an iron chain to the hob.
"Now, tell me," he said, "where am I to notice a pot of gold? Let me know the identify or I'll punish you."
"I know of no pot of golden," said the Leprechaun; "but allow me get that I may end mending the shoes."
"Then I'll brand yous tell me," said the lad.
And with that he made down a great burn down, and put the picayune fellow on it and scorched him.
"Oh, take me off, accept me off!" cried the Leprehaun, "and I'll tell you. Just there, nether the dock foliage, where you plant me, there is a pot of gold. Go; dig and discover."
So the lad was delighted, and ran to the door; but it so happened that his mother was just then coming in with the pail of fresh milk, and in his haste he knocked the pail out of her hand, and all the milk was spilled on the floor.
And then, when the mother saw the Leprehaun, she grew very angry and beat out him. "Get away, you lot little wretch!" she cried, " You have overlooked the milk and brought ill-luck." And she kicked him out of the house.
But the lad ran off to find the dock leafage, though he came dorsum very sorrowful in the evening, for he had dug and dug nearly down to the middle of the earth; merely no pot of gold was to be seen.
That same night the husband was coming home from his piece of work, and as he passed the onetime fort he heard voices and laughter, and 1 said: "They are looking for a pot of gilded; but they little know that a crock of gold is lying down in the bottom of the old quarry, hid nether the stones close by the garden wall. But whoever gets information technology must go of a dark night at twelve o'clock, and beware of bringing his wife with him."
Then the man hurried domicile and told his wife he would go that very night, for information technology was blackness night, and she must stay at dwelling house and scout for him, and not stir from the house till he came back. Then he went out into the dark dark lone.
"Now," thought the wife, when he was gone, "if I could merely go to the quarry before him I would accept the pot of gilded all to myself; while if he gets it I shall have null.
And with that she went out and ran like the current of air until she reached the quarry, and than she she began to creep down very quietly in the black nighttime. Only a great stone was in her path, and she stumbled over it, and fell downwards and down till she reached the bottom, and there she lay groaning, for her leg was broken past the fall.
Just then her husband came to the edge of the quarry and began to descend. But when he heard the groans he was frightened.
"Cross of Christ about us!" he exclaimed; "What is that downwardly below? Is it evil, or is it good?"
"Oh, come downwards, come down and help me!" cried the woman. "It's your wife is here, and my leg is broken, and I'll die if you don't aid me."
"And is this my pot of gold?" exclaimed the poor man. "Simply my wife with a broken leg lying at the lesser of the quarry."
And he was at his wits' end to know what to practise, for the night was so dark he could not encounter a hand before him. Then he roused upwards a neighbour, and between them they dragged up the poor woman and carried her dwelling house, and laid her on the bed half dead from fear, and information technology was many a day earlier she was able to go about as usual; indeed she limped all her life long, and then that the people said the curse of the Leprechaun was on her.
But every bit to the pot of gold, from that mean solar day to this not ane of the family, father or son, or whatsoever belonging to them, ever fix eyes on it. However, the little Leprehaun still sits under the dock leafage of the hedge and laughs at them as he mends the shoes with his niggling hammer -- tick tack, tick tack -- but they are afraid to touch him, for now they know he tin can have his revenge.
- Source (books.google.com): Lady Wilde, Aboriginal Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland, vol. 1 (London: Ward and Downey, 1887), pp. 103-108.
- Source (Internet Archive): Lady Wilde, Aboriginal Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland, vol. ane (Boston: Ticknor and Visitor, 1887), pp. 103-108.
- Return to the table of contents.
The Solitary Fairies: Lepracaun, Cluricaun, Far Darrig
William Butler Yeats
"The proper name Lepracaun," Mr. Douglas Hyde writes to me, "is from the Irish leith brog -- i.e., the I-shoemaker, since he is generally seen working at a single shoe. It is spelt in Irish gaelic leith bhrogan, or leith phrogan, and is in some places pronounced Luchryman, as O' Kearney writes it in that very rare book, the Feis Tigh Chonain."The Lepracaun, Cluricaun, and Far Darrig. Are these 1 spirit in different moods and shapes? Hardly two Irish gaelic writers are agreed. In many things these three fairies, if three, resemble each other. They are withered, sometime, and alone, in every way unlike the sociable spirits of the first sections. They wearing apparel with all unfairy homeliness, and are, indeed, most sluttish, slouching, jeering, mischievous phantoms. They are the great practical jokers among the adept people.
The Lepracaun makes shoes continually, and has grown very rich. Many treasure-crocks, buried of old in state of war-time, has he at present for his own. In the early office of this century, according to Croker, in a newspaper office in Tipperary, they used to show a piddling shoe forgotten by a Lepracaun.
The Cluricaun, (Clobhair-ceann, in O'Kearney) makes himself drunk in gentlemen'south cellars. Some suppose he is merely the Lepracaun on a spree. He is almost unknown in Connaught and the north.
The Far Darrig (fearfulness dearg), which means the Reddish Man, for he wears a red cap and coat, busies himself with applied joking, particularly with gruesome joking. This he does, and nothing else.
- Source (books.google.com): William Butler Yeats, Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry (London: Walter Scott, 1888), p. lxxx.
- Source (Net Annal): William Butler Yeats, Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry (London: Walter Scott, 1888), p. 80.
- Render to the tabular array of contents.
The Maker of Brogues
Brampton Hunt
At that place was a young lad travelling the road to a fair, and he passed convenient to a field had a sand pit in the middle of it. What did he see, sitting up in that place with his legs dangling over the edge of the pit, but a footling wee man making brogues. The lad took ane bound into the field and he walked upwardly to the cobbler."Good-morning, mister!" says he. "Might I make and then bold as to ask what work you lot are doing this 60 minutes of the morning dew, and what makes you fancy the edge of a pit for a seat?"
"'Tis making brogues I am," says the leprachaun," and they for the Good People'due south wearable."
"I'thousand thinking you're watching a treasure," says the lad.
"I'one thousand non," says the leprachaun. "Merely I know where there'due south plenty hid."
"You lot exist to discover information technology for me," says the lad.
"Let you look till this one pair of brogues is made," says the fairy.
And then the lad agreed and he sat down to watch him at work.
"Begob," says he, "I never seen any person could hammer in nails such a rate."
"It's a dull worker I'm counted in these parts," says the leprachaun. "Let you look down into the pit at the man is cobbling below. I warrant information technology'southward three nails he's driving for each 1 of mine."
The lad looked over the edge. "There is no man in it at all!" says he.
With that the leprachaun permit a laugh.
"In that location is not," says he.
"There'due south a sore chastisement waiting on you for deceiving me," answers the other.
But when he stood on his feet and looked round wasn't the leprachaun gone.
"I'yard the fool of the whole wide world," says the lad, and he travelled away to the off-white.
- Source (books.google.com): Brampton Hunt, Folk Tales of Breffny (London: Macmillan and Company, 1912), no. 26, pp. 195-96.
- Source (Internet Archive): Brampton Hunt, Folk Tales of Breffny (London: Macmillan and Company, 1912), no. 26, pp. 195-96.
- Return to the table of contents.
- Return to the tabular array of contents.
- Return to D. L. Ashliman'south folktexts , a library of folktales, sociology, fairy tales, and mythology.
Revised Nov 29, 2016.
Source: https://sites.pitt.edu/~dash/leprechaun.html
0 Response to "Whats an Irish Story Thats Told Over and Over Again That Starts With an L"
Post a Comment