Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-02-23
OF IRELAND.
Story Of the Nine PrincesSes Who
We're Changed Into HaZelS
THE NUTS THESOURCE OF WISDOM.
How Fionn, the War Hero, Won the Beautiful
Graine for His Bride.
RACE OF MAIDS UP A MOUNTAIN SIDE
WRITTEN FOR THE D1sPArcH.1

Stored away in the musty tones and illu-
minated manuscripts of the Royal Irish
Academy, in Dublin, are myriads otlegends,
quaint and curious, connected with ancient
Ireland-the Erin of poets and sages.
And in the fresh, unfading treasurer houses
of lonely glen and rocky height. these old
stories live dual life. The white Shaired
seanachie tells them round the turf fire to
the listening peasantry, and his fathers told
them to high chief and noble dame, when
harps were in hall and the red wine on the
groaning board.
But alack and welladayl The aged seana-
chic must now relate his ballads and legends
in the harsh Saxon tongue where once they
flowed forth with all the musical intonations
of graceful Gaelic. Still the thoughts and
images are the same, and it is not from the
want Of proper interpreter that the folk
lore of Erin loses anything.
A strange legend of the midland and
southeastern counties is that of "The Sal
mon of All Knowledge" Far away, in the
mist of ages, there was a certain mountain
we'll high up in the purple Sieve Bloom
Mountains, and this we'll was called Tubber-
na-Cennla, or the spring of Connla. The
sparkling waters bubbled to the surface all
the day long, and then leaped out playfullY
through the Towering heather, and bounded
down the rocky hillside to form . whisper
ing rivulet far below. And this riVulet
wound through moss and mire, waxing
greater every moment, till it lett the purple
mountains altogether and flowed swiftly
through broad green valley, where a thou
sand other streams ted it and a thousand
other springs brimmed Its banks. Then un-
der the sweeping branches of mighty trees
and by noisy towns and stately palaces the
river rolled onward and men called it the
more" or the "fair stream"
NINE DAUGHTERS OF A KING.
But up in the mountains, to the north
ward, trickled the little rill and bubbled
the silver spring all day long. And around
this well of Connla grew nine lovely hazel
trees-once the nine lovely daughters of
King Connla, whom, for fear of their
deep learning, the Druids had changed into
senseless hazels. Annually 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 she'll 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
COnnla-they began to drop from the
boughs into the well, raising by their fall
bubbles innumerable on the clear surface,
Some sank to the bottom, but the majority
were borne with the stream down through
the mountains into the fair green valley.
At that time of year-for it was the spawn
ing season-the river More was full Of sal
mon, and these fish devouredstthe nuts of
wisdom and poetry as they sailed down
stream. Instantly 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 toward
the sea. Now all men who were lucky
enoughto
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 seanachies, or
excellent craftsmen in gold and silver. For
these salmon are called the "Salmon of
All knowledge" But for every one of
these lovely fish that is permitted to escape
to the sea, another fifty years is added to the
period of Ireland's slavery.
Such is the remarkable legend of the Sal
mon of Ali knowledge. The writer has
seen Connla's Well in the Sieve Bloom,
in fact he has eaten his brea kfast on its
messy bank, after an excellent 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 multiplied to hundreds; the
whole hillside was covered with them. The
stream still leaves the mountain well and
jourdeys on till it becomes that poetic river
which Spencer in his "Faerle Queen" calls
''the stubborne NeWre." The nuts still float
down, and the salmon still gobble them up,
but it 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.
HOW FIoNN WON HIS BRIDE.
Fionn MacCumhall, the great war hero Of
the Irish legends, and whose actual exis-
tence has long since been clearly proven,
has had more songs and stories sung and
told about his adventures than any other
Irishman. FiOnn's mighty fortress, lay at
the top of Slieve-na-mon, a lovely mountain,
in the south of Tpperary. Slieye-na-mon
became the rebel headquarters in 1848 and
it was the center of 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 a wife. |
So, in order that the maidens of the sur
rounding country should not be jealous, be- |
cause OF his selecting any one in preference |
to another, he sent for the whole OF them,
and placing them in his camp, scrutinized |
their features intently. It required little |
time to tell him that one of them, the beau
teous Graine, was not only the loVellest |
woman there, but also the loveliest in all |
green Erin. Yet it would not DO to select |
Graine. Fionn was, like many another |
mighty chieftain, mortally afraid of women's |
tongues. So he declared that all maidens |
who wished for his hand should run race |
1p the steep sides of SlieVe-na-mon, the |
winner of the race to be his wife. Away |
went the ladies to prepare, and Fionn |
Iecretly sent a message to CRANE, advising |
her not to run hard, but to husband her |
strength until the last moment.
SHE RAN LIKE THE WILD DOE.
The advice was taken. While all the |
,ther maidens utterly exhausted them
Ielves by their wild efforts to run up the |
CRANE trudged steadily by an
Easy path. Presently the sWifter runners
began to give way. Many fell fainting
among the rocks and heather; others were
orced to rest by the wayside.
"Then CRANE" says the old poem,
fkilted up her grass-green skirts and ran
ike the wild doeat the sound of the hunters
1orn." She vanquished all competitors,
ind was the first over the battlements of
Fionn's castle. The nuptials were soon
celebrated with great pomp and
Iplendor. The thousand hills of Erin
Flowed with fires to Bel, the sun god, and
ar and wide king and chief and peasant
we're glad at heart. Brennan.