The old man who related this story to me had himself found in a bog a crock covered with a slate. He hoped it might be full of gold, but it only contained bog butter, which he used for greasing cart-wheels.
A carman at Rosapenna told me how the fairies would lead people astray, carrying one man off to Scotland. A girl had her face twisted through their influence, and had to go to the priest to be cured. "He was," the man added, "one of the old sort, who could work miracles, of whom there are not many nowadays." Near Finntown a girl had offended the fairies by washing clothes in a "gentle" burn, or stream haunted by the little people. Her eyes were turned to the back of her head. She, too, invoked the aid of a priest, and his blessing restored them to their proper place.
Donegal fairies appear able to adapt themselves to modern conditions. I was told at Finntown they did not interfere with the railway, as they sometimes enjoyed a ride on the top of the train. Although usually only seen in secluded spots, they occasionally visit a fair or market, but are much annoyed if recognized.
In the following story we have an illustration of intercourse between fairies and human beings: An old woman at Glenties was called upon by a strange man to give her aid at the birth of a child. At first she refused, but he urged her, saying it was not far, and in the end she consented. When he brought her to his dwelling she saw a daughter whom she had supposed to be dead, but who was now the wife of the fairy man. The daughter begged her not to let it be known she was her mother, and, giving her a ring, bade her look on it at times and she would know when they could meet. She also added that her husband would certainly offer a reward, but she implored her mother not to accept it, but to ask that the red-haired boy might be given to her. "He will not be willing to part from him," the daughter added; "but if you beg earnestly, he will give him to you in the end." The mother attended her daughter, and when his child was born the fairy man offered her a rich reward, but she refused, praying only that the red-haired boy might be given to her. At first the father refused, but when she pleaded her loneliness, he granted her request. The daughter was well pleased, told her mother they might meet at the fair on the hill behind Glenties, but warned her that even if she saw the fairy man she must never speak to him. The old woman returned to her home, taking her grandson, the red-haired boy, with her. She kept the ring carefully, and it gave her warning when she would meet her daughter on the hill at Glenties. These interviews were for a long time a great comfort to mother and daughter, but one day, in the joy of her heart, the mother shook hands with and spoke to the fairy man. He turned to her angrily asking how she could see him, and with that he blew upon her eyes, so that she could no longer discern fairies. The precious ring also disappeared, and she never again saw her daughter.
Variants of this story were told to me by an old woman at Portstewart, and by a man whom I met near Lough Salt during the Rosapenna Conference of Field Clubs. In these versions there is no mention of the red-haired boy, nor of the old woman being the mother of the fairy man's wife; she is simply called in to attend to her. When rubbing ointment on the infant, she accidentally draws her hand across one of her eyes and acquires the power of seeing the fairies. Shortly afterwards she meets the fairy man at a market or fair, and inquires for his wife. He is annoyed at being recognized, asks with which eye she sees him, blows upon it, and puts it out.[73]
In another Donegal legend the fairies gain possession of a bride, and would have kept her in captivity had not their plans been frustrated by a mortal. This is the story as told to me near Gweedore, and also at Kincasslagh, a small seaport in the Rosses. Owen Boyle lived with his mother near Kincasslagh, and worked as a carpenter. One Hallow Eve, on his return home, he found a calf was missing, and went out to look for it. He was told it was behind a stone near the spink or rock of Dunathaid, and when he got there he saw the calf, but it ran away and disappeared through an opening in the rock. Owen was at first afraid to follow, but suddenly he was pushed in, and the door closed behind him. He found himself in a company of fairies, and heard them saying: "This is good whisky from O'Donnel's still. He buried a nine-gallon keg in the bog; it burst, the hoops came off, and the whisky has come to us." One of the fairies gave Owen a glass, saying he might be useful to them that night. They asked if he would be willing to go with them, and, being anxious to get out of the cave, he at once consented. They all mounted on horses, and away they went through Dungloe, across the hills to Dochary, then to Glenties, and through Mount Charles to Ballyshannon, and thence to Connaught. They came to a house where great preparations were being made for a wedding. The fairies told Owen to go in and dance with any girl who asked him. He was much pleased to see that he was now wearing a good suit of clothes, and gladly joined in the dance. After a time there was a cry that the bride would choose a partner, and the partner she chose was Owen Boyle. They danced until the bride fell down in a faint, and the fairies, who had crept in unseen, bore her away. They mounted their horses and took the bride with them, sometimes one carrying her and sometimes another. They had ridden thus for a time when one of the fairies said to Owen: "You have done well for us to-night." "And little I have got for it," was the reply; "not even a turn of carrying the bride." "That you ought to have," said the fairy, and called out to give the bride to Owen. Owen took her, and, urging his horse, outstripped the fairies. They pursued him, but at Bal Cruit Strand he drew with a black knife a circle round himself and the bride, which the fairies could not cross. One of them, however, stretched out a long arm and struck the bride on the face, so that she became deaf and dumb. When the fairies left him, Owen brought the girl to his mother, and in reply to her questions, said he had brought home one to whom all kindness should be shown. They gave her the best seat by the fire; she helped in the housework, but remained speechless.
A year passed, and on Hallow Eve Owen went again to Dunathaid. The door of the cave was open. He entered boldly, and found the fairies enjoying themselves as before. One of them recognized him, and said: "Owen Boyle, you played us a bad trick when you carried off that woman." "And a pretty woman you left with me! She can neither hear nor speak!" "Oh!" said another, "if she had a taste of this bottle, she could do both!" When Owen heard these words he seized the bottle, ran home with it, and, pouring a little into a glass, gave it to the poor girl to drink. Hearing and speech were at once restored. Owen returned the bottle to the fairies, and, before long, he set out for Connaught, taking the girl with him to restore her to her parents. When he arrived, he asked for a night's lodging for himself and his companion. The mother, although she said she had little room, admitted them, and soon Owen saw her looking at the girl. "Why are you gazing at my companion?" he asked. "She is so like a daughter of mine who died a twelvemonth ago." "No," replied Owen; "she did not die; she was carried off by the fairies, and here she is." There was great rejoicing, and before long Owen was married to the girl, the former bridegroom having gone away. He brought her home to Kincasslagh, and not a mile from the village, close to Bal Cruit Strand, may be seen the ring which defended her and Owen from the fairies. It is a very large fairy ring, but why the grass should grow luxuriantly on it tradition does not say.
During the Field Club Conference at Rosapenna a variant of this story was told me by a lad on the heights above Gortnalughoge Bay. Here the man who rode with the fairies was John Friel, from Fanad. They went to Dublin and brought away a young girl from her bed, leaving something behind, which the parents believed to be their dead daughter. Meanwhile the young girl was taken northwards by the fairies. As they drew near to Fanad, John Friel begged to be allowed to carry her, and quickly taking her to his own cottage, kept her there with his mother. The girl was deaf and dumb, but there was no mention of the magic circle or of the blow from the fairy's hand. At the end of the year John Friel, like Owen Boyle, pays another visit to the fairies, overhears their conversation, snatches the bottle, and a few drops from it restore speech and hearing to the girl. He takes her to Dublin. Her parents cannot at first believe that she is truly their daughter, but the mother recognizes her by a mark on the shoulder, and the tale ends with great rejoicing.[74]
In these stories we see the relations between fairies and mortals. The fairy man marries a human wife; he appears solicitous for her health, and is willing to pay a high reward to the nurse, but the caution his wife gives to her mother shows her fear of him, and when the latter forgets this warning and speaks to the husband, he effectively stops all intercourse between her and her daughter.