THE FAIRIES IN NEW ROSS.
"When moonlight
Near midnight
Tips the rock and waving wood;
When moonlight
Near midnight
Silvers o'er the sleeping flood;
When yew tops
With dew-drops
Sparkle o'er deserted graves;
'Tis then we fly
Through welkin high,
Then we sail o'er yellow waves."
Book of Irish Ballads.
There lived, some thirty years since, in the eastern part of the suburbs of New Ross, in the county of Wexford, denominated the "Maudlins," a hedge carpenter named Davy Hanlan, better known to his neighbours by the sobriquet of "Milleadh Maide," or "Speilstick." Davy plied his trade with all the assiduity of an industrious man, "and laboured in all kinds of weather" to maintain his little family; and as his art consisted principally in manufacturing carts, ploughs, and harrows (iron ploughs not being then in use) for the surrounding farmers, and doctoring their old ones, the sphere of Davy's avocations was confined to no mean limits.
It was a dry, sharp night, in the month of November, and darkness had set in long before Davy left Mount Hanover, two miles distant from his home. At length he started forward, and had already reached the bridge of the Maudlins, when he stopped to rest; for besides his tools he carried a bundle of wheaten straw, which he intended for a more than usually comfortable "shake-down" for his dear rib Winny. The moon had by this time ascended above the horizon, and by its silvery radiance depicted in delicate outline the hills rising in the distance, while the tender rays mixing with, and faintly illumining the gloom of the intermediate valleys, formed a mass of light and shade so exquisitely blended as to appear the work of enchantment. As Davy leaned on the parapet of the bridge, a thrill of alarm involuntarily disturbed his feelings: he was about to depart when he heard a clamorous sound, as of voices, proceeding from that part of the valley on which he still gazed. Curiosity now tempted him to listen still longer, when suddenly he saw a group of dwarfish beings emerging from the gloom, and coming rapidly towards him, along the green marsh that borders the Maudlin stream. Poor Davy was terror-stricken at this unusual sight; in vain he attempted to escape: he was, as it were, spellbound. Instantly the whole company gained the road beside him, and after a moment's consultation they simultaneously cried out, "Where is my horse? give me my horse!" &c. In the twinkling of an eye they were all mounted. Davy's feelings may be more easily imagined than described, and in a fit of unconsciousness his tongue, as it were mechanically, articulated "Where is my horse?" Immediately he found himself astride on a rude piece of timber, somewhat in shape of a plough-beam, by which he was raised aloft in the air. Away he went, as he himself related, at the rate of nine knots an hour, gliding smoothly through the liquid air. No aeronaut ever performed his expedition with more intrepidity; and after about two hours' journeying the whole cavalcade alighted in the midst of a large city, just as
"The iron tongue of midnight had told twelve."
One of the party, who appeared to be a leader, conducted them from door to door, Davy following in the rear; and at the first door he passed them the word, "We cannot enter, the dust of the floor lies not behind the door."[[1]] Other impediments prevented their ingress to the next two or three doors.
At length, having come to a door which was not guarded by any of these insuperable sentinels which defy the force of fairy assault, he joyfully cried out "We can enter here:" and immediately, as if by enchantment, the door flew open, the party entered, and Davy, much astonished, found himself within the walls of a spacious wine-store. Instantly the heads of wine vessels were broken; bungs flew out; the carousing commenced; each boon companion pledged his friend, as he bedewed his whiskers in the sparkling beverage; and the wassail sounds float round the walls and hollow roof. Davy, not yet recovered from his surprise, stood looking on, but could not contrive to come at a drop: at length he asked a rather agreeable fairy who was close to him to help him to some. "When I shall have done," said the fairy, "I will give you this goblet, and you can drink." Very
soon after he handed the goblet to Davy, who was about to drink, when the leader gave the word of command:
"Away, away, my good fairies, away!
Let's revel in moonlight, and shun the dull day."
The horses were ready, the party mounted, and Davy was carried back to the Maudlin bridge, bearing in his hand the silver goblet, as witness of his exploit. Half dead he made his way home to Winny, who anxiously awaited him; got to bed about four in the morning, to which he was confined by illness for months afterwards. And as Davy "lived from hand to mouth," his means were soon exhausted. Winny took the goblet and pledged it with Mr. Alexander Whitney, the watchmaker, for five shillings. In a few days after a gentleman who lived not twenty miles from Creywell Cremony came in to Mr. Whitney's, saw the goblet, and recognised it as being once in his possession, and marked with the initials "M. R.," and on examining it found it to be the identical one which he had bestowed, some years before, on a Spanish merchant. Davy, when able to get out, deposed on oath before the Mayor of Ross (who is still living) to the facts narrated above. The Spanish gentleman was written to, and in reply corroborated Davy's statement, saying that on a certain night his wine-store was broken open, vessels much injured, and his wine spilled and drunk, and the silver goblet stolen. Davy was exonerated from any imputation of guilt in the affair, and was careful, during his life, never again to rest at night on the Maudlin bridge.
Patrick Cody.
Mullinavat, county of Kilkenny.
Footnote 1:[(return)]
Every good housewife is supposed to sweep the kitchen floor previously to her going to bed; and the old women who are best skilled in "fairy lore" affirm, that if, through any inadvertence, she should leave the dust thus collected behind the door at night, this dust or sweepings will have the power of opening the door to the fairies, should they come the way. It is also believed that, if the broom should be left behind the door, without being placed standing on its handle, it will possess the power of admitting the fairies. Should the water in which the family had washed their feet, before going to bed, be left in the vessel, on the kitchen floor, without having a coal of fire put into it, if not thrown out in the yard, it will act as porter to the fairies or good people.