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<h2> The Fairy Nurse </h2>
<p>There was once a little farmer and his wife living near Coolgarrow. They
had three children, and my story happened while the youngest was a baby.
The wife was a good wife enough, but her mind was all on her family and
her farm, and she hardly ever went to her knees without falling asleep,
and she thought the time spent in the chapel was twice as long as it need
be. So, friends, she let her man and her two children go before her one
day to Mass, while she called to consult a fairy man about a disorder one
of her cows had. She was late at the chapel, and was sorry all the day
after, for her husband was in grief about it, and she was very fond of
him.</p>
<p>Late that night he was wakened up by the cries of his children calling out
'Mother! Mother!' When he sat up and rubbed his eyes, there was no wife by
his side, and when he asked the little ones what was become of their
mother, they said they saw the room full of nice little men and women,
dressed in white and red and green, and their mother in the middle of
them, going out by the door as if she was walking in her sleep. Out he
ran, and searched everywhere round the house but, neither tale nor tidings
did he get of her for many a day.</p>
<p>Well, the poor man was miserable enough, for he was as fond of his woman
as she was of him. It used to bring the salt tears down his cheeks to see
his poor children neglected and dirty, as they often were, and they'd be
bad enough only for a kind neighbour that used to look in whenever she
could spare time. The infant was away with a nurse.</p>
<p>About six weeks after—just as he was going out to his work one
morning—a neighbour, that used to mind women when they were ill,
came up to him, and kept step by step with him to the field, and this is
what she told him.</p>
<p>'Just as I was falling asleep last night, I heard a horse's tramp on the
grass and a knock at the door, and there, when I came out, was a
fine-looking dark man, mounted on a black horse, and he told me to get
ready in all haste, for a lady was in great want of me. As soon as I put
on my cloak and things, he took me by the hand, and I was sitting behind
him before I felt myself stirring. "Where are we going, sir?" says I.
"You'll soon know," says he; and he drew his fingers across my eyes, and
not a ray could I see. I kept a tight grip of him, and I little knew
whether he was going backwards or forwards, or how long we were about it,
till my hand was taken again, and I felt the ground under me. The fingers
went the other way across my eyes, and there we were before a castle door,
and in we went through a big hall and great rooms all painted in fine
green colours, with red and gold bands and ornaments, and the finest
carpets and chairs and tables and window curtains, and grand ladies and
gentlemen walking about. At last we came to a bedroom, with a beautiful
lady in bed, with a fine bouncing boy beside her. The lady clapped her
hands, and in came the Dark Man and kissed her and the baby, and praised
me, and gave me a bottle of green ointment to rub the child all over.</p>
<p>'Well, the child I rubbed, sure enough; but my right eye began to smart,
and I put up my finger and gave it a rub, and then stared, for never in
all my life was I so frightened. The beautiful room was a big, rough cave,
with water oozing over the edges of the stones and through the clay; and
the lady, and the lord, and the child weazened, poverty-bitten creatures—nothing
but skin and bone—and the rich dresses were old rags. I didn't let
on that I found any difference, and after a bit says the Dark Man, "Go
before me to the hall door, and I will be with you in a few moments, and
see you safe home." Well, just as I turned into the outside cave, who
should I see watching near the door but poor Molly. She looked round all
terrified, and says she to me in a whisper, "I'm brought here to nurse the
child of the king and queen of the fairies; but there is one chance of
saving me. All the court will pass the cross near Templeshambo next Friday
night, on a visit to the fairies of Old Ross. If John can catch me by the
hand or cloak when I ride by, and has courage not to let go his grip, I'll
be safe. Here's the king. Don't open your mouth to answer. I saw what
happened with the ointment."</p>
<p>'The Dark Man didn't once cast his eye towards Molly, and he seemed to
have no suspicion of me. When we came out I looked about me, and where do
you think we were but in the dyke of the Rath of Cromogue. I was on the
horse again, which was nothing but a big rag-weed, and I was in dread
every minute I'd fall off; but nothing happened till I found myself in my
own cabin. The king slipped five guineas into my hand as soon as I was on
the ground, and thanked me, and bade me good night. I hope I'll never see
his face again. I got into bed, and couldn't sleep for a long time; and
when I examined my five guineas this morning, that I left in the table
drawer the last thing, I found five withered leaves of oak—bad luck
to the giver!'</p>
<p>Well, you may all think the fright, and the joy, and the grief the poor
man was in when the woman finished her story. They talked and they talked,
but we needn't mind what they said till Friday night came, when both were
standing where the mountain road crosses the one going to Ross.</p>
<p>There they stood, looking towards the bridge of Thuar, in the dead of the
night, with a little moonlight shining from over Kilachdiarmid. At last
she gave a start, and "By this and by that," says she, "here they come,
bridles jingling and feathers tossing!" He looked, but could see nothing;
and she stood trembling and her eyes wide open, looking down the way to
the ford of Ballinacoola. "I see your wife," says she, "riding on the
outside just so as to rub against us. We'll walk on quietly, as if we
suspected nothing, and when we are passing I'll give you a shove. If you
don't do YOUR duty then, woe be with you!"</p>
<p>Well, they walked on easy, and the poor hearts beating in both their
breasts; and though he could see nothing, he heard a faint jingle and
trampling and rustling, and at last he got the push that she promised. He
spread out his arms, and there was his wife's waist within them, and he
could see her plain; but such a hullabulloo rose as if there was an
earthquake, and he found himself surrounded by horrible-looking things,
roaring at him and striving to pull his wife away. But he made the sign of
the cross and bid them begone in God's name, and held his wife as if it
was iron his arms were made of. Bedad, in one moment everything was as
silent as the grave, and the poor woman lying in a faint in the arms of
her husband and her good neighbour. Well, all in good time she was minding
her family and her business again; and I'll go bail, after the fright she
got, she spent more time on her knees, and avoided fairy men all the days
of the week, and particularly on Sunday.</p>
<p>It is hard to have anything to do with the good people without getting a
mark from them. My brave nurse didn't escape no more than another. She was
one Thursday at the market of Enniscorthy, when what did she see walking
among the tubs of butter but the Dark Man, very hungry-looking, and taking
a scoop out of one tub and out of another. 'Oh, sir,' says she, very
foolish, 'I hope your lady is well, and the baby.' 'Pretty well, thank
you,' says he, rather frightened like. 'How do I look in this new suit?'
says he, getting to one side of her. 'I can't see you plain at all, sir,'
says she. 'Well, now?' says he, getting round her back to the other side.
'Musha, indeed, sir, your coat looks no better than a withered dock-leaf.'
'Maybe, then,' says he, 'it will be different now,' and he struck the eye
next him with a switch. Friends, she never saw a glimmer after with that
one till the day of her death.</p>
<p>'Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts,' by Patrick Kennedy.</p>
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