The weekly Butte record., 1863-03-21
An Irish Legend.

Ihefe s no more laFoElle form o. popular
superstition, nor none more pertinaeioasly re-
tanned among the Irish peasantry, than that
which peoples with strange and necromantic
race, the numerous lakes which ike so many
gems lie scattered over her surface. There is
scarcely piece of water from
The narrow inlet still and deep,
Afforing scarce such breadth of hrim,
As served the wild ducks brood to swim,
to the majestic sheets of Neagh and Erue, bat
will furnish abundant proofs Of this assertion.
You will be told of people having been seen TO
enter the lake, and again Of persons emerging
from it, of skillet or kettle having been
purloined from that, and of towers and chin
ney tops appearing above the surface of an
other. Unfortunately, however, there is sol
palpable a similarity between these statements
as made Of different lakes, that their claim to
probability is very much shaken, still the be-
lief is fondly dwelt on and implicitly believed
The person from whom l have heard the
following is a true specimen Of the class Of peo
pie generally denominated "gulls." He is
decidedly in many respects shrewd, knowing
individual, warm politician. of unmistakable
anti British predictions, and feels quite san
guine of the success of the Indian revolt. He
is deeply read in the prophetic sayings Of our
seers of old, or what he believes to be such
and although be has lived long enough to see
his calculations more than once falsifed, be
still maintains that the day is not far distant
when Ireland will own no foreign sway. But
the most strongly marked trait in his character,
is his leaning to the marvellous. No story,
fairy. ghost, fetch, or hobgoblin, is too ridicu-
ous or improbable for his powers Of belief.
He contends that the earth and air are stocked
with good people :" that the lakes are in
habited by a somewhat similar class, whom he
considers to be the descendants of the Danes
and Norsemen, who were driven TO their wa
terry retreats By the celebrated Brian Boroimhe
and other Irish heroes and that by night good
and evil spirits walk the rounds of our daily
life Argument with him would be out of the
question, for like Goldsmth's village school
master, whose powers of disputation the parson
was obliged to own
Zen though vanquish'd he could argue STILL
whilst cases in point, not experienced by him.
self, but by people well known to him, so ap-
parently conclusive would be hurled at you,
that reply would be worse than useless.
" You promised to relate legend of Lough
Owhel; may l claim its fufment? ?"
" Certainly; but I must remark that not
only did hear the legend, but l have seen it
verified"
Pray, how, sir ?"
q was once bringing a boat across the
lough for the purpose of having some repairs
performed, aud | brought man of the name
of Gavacan with me. When we showed off
bit from shore we found the boat filing rapid
ly, and proposed to return to the strand
But to this my companion objected in his own
case, insisting, however, on landing me, and
then continuing his course across the lake.
demonstrated with him on tie imprudence Of
this, but to no purpose. He told me that he
had the promise of the Queen of Waters that
no harm woold befall him or any one of his
name aud, in explanation, told me the legend,
which was as follows-but, by the way must
say here. that though the boat was little better
than tub, he crossed in perfect safety, and
awaited me on the opposite shore"
Extraordinary 1 exclaimed d" but the
legend, sir"
Formerly there dwelt in hut adjacent to
Lough Owhel, poor man, by name Gavacan,
who earned subsistence by fishing on the
lake. He was one day engaged in his ordinary
avocation, when his hook became entangled in
something under the water, and all his efforts
were in vain TO undo it. At the same time a
furious storm tossed him about on the angry
waves, like a wind blown leaf in autumn. By
the most fatiguing exertons he succeeded in
making the strand. Detected and sad for in
the loss of his little boat he lost fortune) be
sought quickly the shelter of his hut. That
night be dreamed that new and splendid
boat was at his command, and already he en-
ioyed BY anticipation all the delights of pro-
prietary, when something-yes, it is a horse,
white as December's saow-entered and ap-
preached the lowly couch of the rough fisher.
To the CONSERVATION of Gavacan, the animal
in human tongue commanded him to follow
his steps; but, overcome by terror, the poor
man refused. The horse departed, but the
next night again presented himself, demanding
in a morda5mperious tone, his acquiesence
Again Gavaean refused, and again-the third
time-the snow-white steed stood by his bed
side The fishers family were this time awake,
aud beheld with dsmay their unearthIy visitor.
Gavacan would again have refused, but the
novel messenger was not to be banked so,
yielding to the entreaties Of his wife, and CO
creed By the terror OF the threats held out in
case of refusal, he bent his unwilling steps after