Why should I renew her grief by reminding her of her loss ? "

But the young lady persevered, till at last the mother was sent for.

"Mother/' she began, when the old lady came to the door, "don't j'^w know your daughter? "

" I have no daughter; my daughter died and was buried a long, long time ago."

" Only look in my face, and surely you'll know me."

The old lady shook her head.

"You have all forgotten me; but look at this mole on my neck. Surely, mother, you know me now?''

"Yes, yes," said the mother, *'my Gracie had a mole on her neck like that; but then I saw her in her coffin, and saw the lid shut down upon her."

It became Jamie's turn to speak, and he gave the history of the fairy journey, of the theft of the young lady, of the figure he had seen laid in its place, of her life with his mother in Fannet, of last Halloween, and of the three drops that had released her from her enchantment.

She took up the story when he paused, and told how kind the mother and son had been to her.

The parents could not make enough of Jamie. They treated him with every distinction, and when he expressed his wish to return to Fannet, said they did not know what to do to show their gratitude.

But an awkward complication arose. The daughter would not let him go without her. " If Jamie goes, I'll go too," she said, "He saved me from the fairies, and has worked for me ever since. If it had not been for him, dear

father and mother, you would never have seen me again. If he goes, I'll go too/'

This being her resolution, the old gentleman said that Jamie should become his son-in-law. The mother was brought from Fannet in a coach and four, and there was a splendid wedding.

They all lived together in the grand Dublin house, and Jamie was heir to untold wealth at his father-in-law's death.

THE STOLEN CHILD.

W. B. YEATS.

Where dips the rocky highland

Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island

Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water-rats. There we've hid our fairy vats Full of berries.

And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O, human child ! To the woods and waters wild, With a fairy hand in hand. For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim grey sands with light,

Far ofl" by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night,

Weaving olden dances,

Mingling hands, and mingling glances. Till the moon has taken flight \

To and fro we leap,

And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles.

And is anxious in its sleep.

Come away ! O, human child !

To the woods and waters wildj

With a fair}^ hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes

From the hills above Glen-Car, Tn pools among the rushes.

That scarce could bathe a star, We seek for slumbering trout,

And whispering in their ears ; We give them evil dreams, Leaning softly out

From ferns that drop their tears Of dew -on the young streams. Come ! O, human child ! To the woods and waters wild, With a fairy hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us, he's going.

The solemn-eyed; He'll hear no more the lowing

Of the calves on the warm hill-side. Or the kettle on the hob

Sing peace into his breast; Or see the brown mice bob

Round and round the oatmeal chest. For he comes, the human child, To the woods and waters wild, With a fairy hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

THE TROOPING FMRIES.

THE MERROW.

The Merrow^ or if you write it in the Irish, Moruadh or Mu7-rughac]i^ from vmiry sea, and oigh^ a maid, is not uncommon, they say, on the wilder coasts. The fishermen do not Hke to see them, for it always means coming gales.. The male Merroivi (if you can use such a phrase—I have never heard the masculine of Merrow) have green teeth, green hair, pig's eyes, and red noses ; but their women are beautiful, for all their fish tails and the little duck-like scale between their fingers. Sometimes they prefer, small blame to them, good-looking fishermen to their sea lovers. Near Bantry, in the last century, there is said to have been a woman covered all over with scales like a fish, who was descended from such a marriage. Sometimes they come out of the sea, and wander about the shore in the shape of little hornless cows. They have, when in their own shape, a red cap, called a cohullen druiih^ usually covered with feathers. If this is stolen, they cannot again go down under the waves.

Red is the colour of magic in every country, and has been so from the very earliest times. The caps of fairies and magicians, are well-nigh always red.

THE SOUL CAGES.

T. CROFTON CROKER.

Jack Dogherty lived on the coast of the county Clare. Jack was a fisherman, as his father and grandfather before him had been. Like them, too, he lived all alone (but for

G

the wife), and just in the same spot. People used to wonder why the Dogherty family were so fond of that wild situation, so far away from all human kind, and in the midst of huge shattered rocks, with nothing but the wide ocean to look upon. But they had their own good reasons for it.

The place was just the only spot on that part of the coast where anybody could well live.