Bits of Blarney

by R. Shelton Mackenzie

FINN MAC COUL'S FINGER-STONE.

Finn Mac Coul went hunting one day on the Curragh of Kildare. His sport was indifferent, for he brought down only a leash of red deer, and a couple of wolves. He came back to his house, on the hill of Allen, in such bad spirits, that his wife asked him what was the matter, and said that, no doubt, he would have better sport another time. Heaving a deep sigh, he told her that it was not his bad sport that annoyed him, but that news had that morning reached him that Ossian, the Scotch giant, was coming over to challenge him to a trial of strength, and if he lost the day—for he could not decline the contest—his credit, and the credit of Ireland, would be gone forever.

At this news, Finn's wife became as low-spirited as himself. They sat by the fire, like Witherington, "in doleful dumps," and their thoughts were the reverse of happy.

Suddenly, the lady—for the life of me I cannot bring myself to designate her as plain "Mrs. Mac Coul"—asked her disconsolate lord and master at what time Ossian was expected to arrive? Finn told her that the Scottish Hercules had intimated his intention of paying his visit at noon on the following day. "Oh! then," said she, brightening up, "there's no need to despair. Leave all to me, and I'll bring you through it like a Trojan. A blot is no blot until 'tis entered." This remark, showing at once her philosophy and her knowledge of backgammon, was very consolatory to Finn Mac Coul, who, like men before and since, was rather under what is called petticoat government. His mind was relieved when his wife saw daylight.

After breakfast, the next day, Finn (by his wife's direction) went into a huge child's-cradle, a feat which he had some difficulty in accomplishing. There he lay, crumpled up uneasily, while she kept busy in the kitchen, baking some cake or griddle-bread.

By-and-bye, up came Ossian, who knocked at the door, and civilly inquired whether Finn Mac Coul lived there, and if he were at home? "No," said his wife, "he's gone to the fair of Bartlemy; but I am his wife, and, perhaps, I can answer for him."

"What!" said Ossian, "did not he hear that I, Ossian of Scotland, was coming over for a trial of strength with him? I hope he does not mean to skulk. Wherever he may be, I shall not return home until I see him, and until he feel me."

When the wife found that Ossian was too far North to be put off by a "not at home," she put the best face on it, welcomed him to Ireland, hoped he had a pleasant passage, and that the tossing on the salt-water did not disagree with him, invited him into the house, and said that Finn would soon be back, and ready to indulge him in any way he pleased.

Ossian sat down by the fire, quite at his ease. He had a great conceit of himself, and was, indeed, the strongest man in Europe at that time. He noticed the large cakes that were baking in the oven, each of them taking two stone weight of flour, and asked why she made them of such a size. "They are for that little creature in the cradle, there," said she, pointing over her shoulder to Finn. Then Ossian looked round, and noticed the cradle, with Finn in it, and a night-cap on his head, and tied under his chin, and he pretending to be fast asleep all the time.

Astonished at the immense bulk, Ossian called out, "Who's there? What man is that in the cradle?" "Man!" said Finn's wife, with a pleasant little laugh, "that's our youngest child. I am weaning him now, and I sometimes think the fairies have overlooked him, he's so dwarfed and small, and does not promise to be half the size of his father and his brothers."