The Irish standard., 1888-01-28
more, continued my guide, and never

more, continued my Sulue, anu HtyeI
anywhere else
THE poor fish, I suppose, likes to
swim in the light said I.
oh, no. sir,' said she, shaking her
head significantly, the people here has
mighty ovid story about that throut.
Let me hear it, and you will oblige
me-
Och; it's only laughing at me you'd
be, and call me an ovid fool, as the
mistress beyant in the big house often
did, afore when she first came among
us--but she knows the diffe, now.
Indeed, I shall not laugh at your
story said I, ''but, on the contrary,
shall thank you very much for your
tale.'
Then sit down for mint, sir. said
she, throwing her apron upon the rock,
and pointing to the seat. and I'll tell
sou to the best of my knowledge.'
And, seating herself upon an ada
cent patch of verdure, she began nez
legend:
There was Wanst upon a time, long
ago. beautiful young lady that lived
in a castle up by the lake beyant, and
they say she was promised to king
son. and they wor to be married: when,
all of q suddent, he was murthered, the
crathur { Lord help us), and thrown into
the lake ablow. and so of coorse, he
couldn't keep his promise to the fair
lady-and more's the pity.
+ Well, the story goes, that she went
out iv' her mind, bekase av loosin' the
kings son--for she was tinder~ hearted,
God help her. like the rest iv us!-and
pined away after him, until at last no
one about seen her, good or bad; and
the story was that the fairies took her
away.
Well, sir, III coorse O. time the white
throut, God bless it, was seen in the
sthrame beyant, and sure the people
didn't know what to think av the era
thur, seein' as how white throut was
never heerd av afore OF sence; and years
upon years the throut was there, just
where you seen it this blessed mint,
longer can tell you--aye, throth, and
beyant the memory o. tn ouldest in the
village.
AT last the people began to think it
must be fairy; for what else could it
be?-and no hurt nor harm was liver
put an the white throut, antil some
wicked sinners Of sojers KEN to these
parts and laughed at all the people, and
iibed aud jeered them for thinking O.
the likes; and one O. them in partic lar
jhad luck to him-God forgive me for
sayin' it'll swore he'd catch the throut
aud ate it for hls dinner-the black.
guard!
'Well, what do you think O. the vii
lainy of the sojer?-sure enough he
cotch the throut, and away wild him
home, and puts an the fryin'-pan, and
into it he pitched the purity little thing.
The throut squeeled all as one az a
Christian crathur, and my dear, you'd
think the sojer i'd split his sides ]aughin'
for he was a harde,led villain; and
when he thought one side was done, he
turns it over to fry the other; and what
would you think, but the divila taste Of
a burn was an it. at all, at all; and sure
the snjer thought it was {. quare throut
that couldn't be broiled; but says he,
'I'll give it another turn by and by
,itt!e thinkin' what was in store for
him, the haythen. sggEzs. sg
We'll when be thought that side was
done, he turns it again--aud 10 and be-
hould you, the devil taste more done
tha5 side was nor the other; Bad luck
to me,' says the sojer, but that bates
the world says he; but I'll try you agin,
nv da1liut,' says he, as cunnin' as you
think yourself.'-and so with that, be
turns it over and over; but not sign av
the fire was an the purity throut. Well,
says the desperate yillain-[for sure sir,
only he was a desperate villain entirely
he might know he was dom wrong
thing, seein' that all his eudayvours
was no good)-'well,' says he. my jolly
little throut may be you're fried enough,
you don't seem over well-dress'd but
you may be better then you look, like q
singed cat, and a tit bit, afther ALL says
be; and with that be ups with his knife
and fork to taste piece o. the trout
but. my jewl the mint he puts his knife
into the fish, there was murtherin'
screech, that you'd think life i'd have
you heerd it, and away jumps the throut
put av the frYin' pan into the middle o.
the dure aud an che spot where it fell
up rlz lovely lady-the beautifuliest
young crathur that you ever seen,
dressed in white, and band o. goold in
her hair, and a sthrame O. blood run
nin' down her arm.
''Look where you cut me, you viii
iian,' says she, holdin' out her arm to
him--'and, my dear, he thought the
sight id leave his eyes,
Couldn't you leave me cool and COM
Portable in the river where you SHARED
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