Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1884-02-15

lence. As fer Patsy himself, he seem
ed rather glad to get away from those |
memories. a kind of gloom had
hung over him while he was recalling
the various particulars; perhaps he |
shared his mothers fear that no good |
would come of speaking of such mat |
ters At all events, as soon as he be- |
gan to talk of legends and stories and |
superstitions in which he was not per-
sonally concerned, he quite recovered
his ordinary cheerfulness of tone; in
deed when he came to treat of the
water-horses that used to haunt these
lakes he spoke in quite jaunty and
matter-of-fact way, as if their exist
ence sin the ould days" admitted of
no manner of doubt whatever. OF
course was not surprised to find the
water horse myth as common here as
it is in my own country, where every
other loch has its circumstantial leg
end; but the curious thing about the
| Connemara water-horses Is that they
with the farm-horses around, and that
the offspring were put to work on the
farm as an ordinary affair. But they
were lazy animals, these half breeds,
and not to be depended upon when
ever they came near lake, for then,
unless the farmer was on the watch,
they would most ikel y make bolt
for the water irrespective of what was
behind them. In fact, there was a
young animal of this uncanny blood
employed on a farm belonging to
Patsy's uncle, and one day it did make
such a bolt, and was only prevented
from plunging itself and the car and
the driver into lake by the traces
fortunately hltching chow was not ex-
plained) on a rock.
| wonder if it was this sane uncle
who was the hero of Patsey Cong's
next story By this time, it may be
unnecessary to say, had come to re-
| poster His transatlantic experience
skepticism, which he thought it fine
to parade among the simple jewellers
of the hills; but underneath that and
deep down in his nature there OBJ
viously remained the ineradical Gel
tic belief in a mysterious and magical
world, just hidden and no more than
hidden, by the visible phenomena
around. Patsey was clearly thrown
away in Connemara. If only he had
belonged to the weather. classes, if
he had been brought up in library
and got his brain bemuddled with
neo Platonism and port wine, there is
no saying to what eminence he might
have risen as a writer of sentimental
history or the constructor of new
ethic system. Here the gates were
down to the telling of old wives
tales about water-horses and the like
stuff
There's more going on than we
know, said Patsey surveying the still
blue waters of the lake in an absent
kind of way. Pm sure of that sorr.
It's a positive fact. Maybe | wouldn't
behave all the stories that are tould,
but there's something-there's some
| thing. There was my uncle now that
lived at Kincree, and he used to be go
ing down to sayshore, courtln' the
young woman he was to marry.
Well, one evening as he was coming
back he stopped to talk TO some min
that were blasting rocks by the road
side; and | don't know how it was,
but there was a quarrel and fight,
and one of the min he takes up the
blasting rod and hits my uncle with it
over the head, and there he was dead
man. Well, sorr, it was about year
after my uncle was killed there that a
woman living close by in the neigh
borhood went out from her cabin with
milking-pail in her hand and went
up the mountain to milk the cows.
They saw her go up-mOre than one
saw her go away-and she was quite
alone by herself. Well, sorr, she
didn't como down again, and they got
frightened and they went in search of
her, and the divil a sight could they
find anywhere. Well, now your
honor, this is the story av it; sure, I'm
only saying what was tould about it
and what every one about there be-
laves to this day. Twas on the even
ing of the third day after that she
came down-leoking very quare she
was and she said she had met a
man that was murdered the year be-
fore-sure, that was my uncle-and
he had taken her away with him over
the hills, she could not tell where. /
don't know what to make av it but:it
was a strange story anyhow"
Patsy" remarks one of the two
listeners, twas there bothan dubh
in those hills?"
Whats that sorr2"
What they call in Scotland a
black bothy-an illicit still. Weren't
they brewing little potheen up in
the hills and glad to get the woman
to hel p them for day or two2'
II don't know about that, sorr, !"
said Patsy. But anyhow she was
never the same woman after it no,
sorr-there was always something
on her mind, and she never got
the better of it. suppose she's dead
now"
Here Patsy paused and had a look
round the sky, for there had been
some faint indications that we might
after all get breath of wind; and
then, still working away at the easy
oar, he continued:
mo, sorr, | say nawthin' about
thin stories but that they were tould
to me. What happened to mesilf
on the Letternahinch road, that was
ditferent-bcgob, I'm not likely to
forget that. But there was some
thing that happened to my father
that was strange, too, and know he
wouldn't tell a lie about it.
Your father was a good man,
Patsy; he wouldn't tell lie about
hardly anything says the meek
| Chorus.
'"Twas whin | was a boy, but well
| remember it." says Patsy. He
was at work on the farm, and my sis
ter had to carry him his dinner, and
they safe down on the side of little
hill where it was too rough and rocky
for digging-the divil thing could
a spade do wild it. Well, sorr, there
was woman coming along the road
that knew my father, and she safe
down wild them for a minute or two
to put the basket off her shoulders,
and there they were sitting whin they
heard people speaking below them in
side the hill Oh, asclear as anything
they heard the voice below the
ground, so the woman told me, for
met her as l was going to the field
not five minutes after. Aud says she:
Patsy, ask your father was he hear