Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1890-03-19
LEGENDS OF IRELAND.
The Nine Princesses Who Were Changed
Into HaZels.

IRISH Academy, in Dublin, says the
Pittsburg Dispatch, are myriads of le
gends, quaint anu curious, connected
with ancient Ireland-the Erin of poets
and sages. And in the fresh unfading
treasure houses OF lonely glen and
rocky height these old stories live q
dual life. The white haired seanachle
tells them round the turf ire to listen
ing peasantrv, and his fathers told them
to high chief and noOle dame, when
harps were in hall and the red wine on
the grooming board.
But alack and well-a-day. The aged
seanchie must now relate his ballads
and legends IN the harsh Saxon tongue,
where once they flowed forth with all
the musical intonatlOns Of graceful
Gaelic. still, the thoughts and images
are the same, and 1t Is not from want of
proper interpreter that the folklore
OF Erin loses anything.
A strange legend OF the midland and
southeastern counties is that of 1.-THE
Salmon of All knowledge" Far away,
in the mist Of ages, there was a certain
mountain well, high up in the Purple
Sieve Bloom Mountains, and this well
was called Tubber- Connla, or the
spring of Comma. The sparkling waters
dubbed to the surface all the day long,
the Towering heather, and bounded
down the rocky hillside to form a
whispering rivulet far below. And this
rivulet wound through moss and mlre,
waxing greater every moment, till it lett
the purple mountains altogether, and
flowed swi thy through broad, green
valley, where thousand other streams
fed it, and q thousand other springs
brimmed its banks. Then, under the
sweeping branches of mighty trees, and
by noisy towns and stately palaces, the
river rolled onward, and men called it
the "Nore," or fair stream"
But up in the mountains. to the north
ward, trickled the little rill and dubbed
the silver spring all day long. And
around this well of Connla grew nine
lovely hazel trees-once he nine lovely
daughters of King GONNA, whom, for
tear of their deep learning, the Druids
had changed into senseless hazels. An
nually these nine trees brought forth
blossom and fruit. but, unlike all other
hazels in the world. they brought forth
the blossoms and the nuts at one and
the same time. Now these nuts
were of the richest crimson color,
and within each dainty shell lay the
nucleus OF poetry, OF literature, or OF
art. And when the nuts had hung on
these branches for nine days untouched
for no mortal ever ventured to the
craggy hilltop where lay the we'll of
Conula-they began to drop from the
boughs into the well, raising by their
tall bubbles innumerable on the clear
surface. Some sank to the bottom, but
the ma jority were borne with the stream
down through the mountains into the
fair, green valley. At that time of year
Tor 1t was spawning SeasOn-tne River
More was full of salmon, and these fish
devoured the nuts OF wisdom and poe
try as they sailed down stream. In
stantlv over the bodies Of the salmon
burst out crimson spots like unto the
color Of the nuts. And, having eaten,
the fish swan down the broad More to-
ward the sea.
Now all men who were lucky enough
TO catch one of these salmon who had
eaten of the fruit of the nine hazel
trees, and to partake thereof, were sure
to become tuneful bards, or wise seana-
chies, or excellent craftsmen in gold
and silver. For these salmon are called
the Salmon of Knowledge" But for
everyone of these lovely fish that is per-
mitted to escape to the sea another fifty
years is added to the period of Ireland's
slavery.
Such is the remarkable legend of the
Salmon of All Knowledge. The writer
has seen Connla's well in the Sieve
Bloom; in TACT, he has eaten his break
fast on it's mossv bank, after an excel
lent days grouse shooting. There may
at one time have been only nine hazel
trees near the we'll, but at the time of
the visit alluded to the hazels had null
tiplied to hundreds; the whole hillside
was covered with them. The stream
still loo x-oc tho mountain wall ond i0ur-
neys on till it becomes that poetic river
which Spencer, in his ''F9rie Queen
calls ''the stubborn Newre." The nuts
still float down, and the salmon still
gobble them up, but If the effects upon
the lucky fisherman are as Of old, there
must be a great many geniuses wasting
their sweetness on the air OF the More
Valley.
Fionn MacCumhalI, the great war
hero of the Irish legends, and whose
actual eXisten,e has long since been
clearly proven, has had more songs and
stories sung and told about his adven-
lures than any other Irishman. Fionn's
mighty fortress lay at the top of Sieve
na-mon, a lovely mountain IN the south
of Tipperarv. Slieve-namon became
the rebel headquarters in 184S, and it
was the center OIL the guerilla warfare Of
two centuries. Well, while mighty
Fionn was resting in his mountain hold,
with his trusty knights around him, it
suddenly occurred to him that he
should like wife. So, in order that
the maidens of the surrounding
country should not be jealous because
of his selecting one in preference
to another, he sent for the whole of
them, and, placing them in his camp,
scrutinized their features intently. 1t
required little time to tell him that one
of them, the beauteous CRANE, was not
only the loveliest woman there, but
also the loveliest in all green Erin.
Yet it would not Edo to select CRANE.
Fionn was like many other mighty
chieftains, MORALLY afraid Of women's
tongues. So he declared that ali
maidens who wished for his hand
should run a race up the steep sides of
Slieve-Da-mon, the winner of the race
to be his wife. Away went the ladies to
prepare, and Fionn secretly sent mess
age to CRANE, advising her not to run
hard but to husband her strength to
the last moment.
The advice was taken. While all the
other maidens utterly exhausted them
IL