Close to the castle there was, and I believe still remains, a shallow swamp and a dribbling stream of water, in which there is a stone with a deep indenture on the top. It was about three feet high—very like a short joint of one of the pillars of the Giant’s Causeway. This stone was always full of limpid water, called St. Bridget’s water,—that holy woman having been accustomed daily to kneel in prayer on one knee, till she wore a hole in the top of the granite by the cap of her pious joint. She then filled it with water, and vanished from that country. It took the saint a full month, however, to bore the hole to her satisfaction.
To this well, old Jug Ogie, the oldest piece of furniture in Moret Castle, (she was an hereditary cook,) daily went for the purpose of drawing the most sacred crystal she could, wherewith to boil her mistress’s dinner; and also, as the well was naturally consecrated, it saved the priest a quantity of trouble in preparing holy water for the use of the warders. It was then also found to boil vastly quicker, and ten times hotter, than any common water, with a very small modicum of any kind of fuel. But the tradition ran that it would not boil at all for a year and a day after Madam Elizabeth died. It was believed, also, that a cow was poisoned, which had the presumption to drink some of it, as a just judgment for a beast attempting to turn Christian.
On one of these sallies of old Jug, some fellows (who, as it afterward appeared, had with a very deep design lain in ambush) seized and were carrying her off, when they were perceived by one of the watchmen from the tower, who instantly gave an alarm, and some warders sallied after them. Jug was rescued, and the enemy fled through the swamp; but not before one of them had his head divided into two equal parts by the hatchet of Keeran Karry, who was always at the head of the warders, and the life and soul of the whole garrison.
The dead man turned out to be a son of Andrew M‘Mahon, a faction-man of Reuben; but nobody could then guess the motive for endeavouring to carry off old Jug, the most ancient hag in that country. However, the matter soon became developed.
Elizabeth was accounted to be very rich,—the cleverest woman of her day,—and she had a large demesne into the bargain: and finding the sweets of independence, she refused matrimonial offers from many quarters; but as her castle was, for those days, a durably safe residence, such as the auctioneers of the present time would denominate a genuine undeniable mansion, the country squires determined she should marry one of them, since marry willingly she would not—but they nearly fell to loggerheads who should run away with her. Almost every one of them had previously put the question to her by flag of truce, as they all stood in too much awe of the lady to do it personally: till at length, teased by their importunities, she gave notice of her fixed intention to hang the next flag of truce who brought any such impudent proposals of marriage.
Upon this information, it was finally agreed to decide by lot, at a full meeting of her suitors, who should be the hero to surprise and carry off Elizabeth by force, which was considered a matter of danger on account of the warders, who would receive no other commandant, were well fed, and very ferocious.
Elizabeth got wind of their design and place of meeting, which was to be in the old castle of Reuben, near Athy. Eleven or twelve of the squires privately attended at the appointed hour, and it was determined, that whoever should be the lucky winner was to receive the aid and assistance of the others in bearing away the prize, and gaining her hand. To this effect, a league offensive and defensive was entered into between them—one part of which went to destroy Elizabeth’s warders root and branch; and to forward their object, it was desirable, if possible, to procure some inmate of the castle, who, by fair or foul means, might be induced to inform them of the best mode of entry: this caused the attempt to carry off old Jug Ogie.
However, they were not long in want of a spy; for Elizabeth, hearing of their plan from the gossoon[[10]] of Reuben (a nephew of Jug’s), determined to take advantage of it. “My lady,” said Jug Ogie, “pretend to turn me adrift in a dark night, and give out that my gossoon here was found robbing you—they’ll soon get wind of it, and I’ll be the very person the squires want—and then you’ll hear all.”
[10]. A gossoon was then, and till very lately, an indispensable part of a country gentleman’s establishment;—a dirty, bare-legged boy, who could canter six miles an hour on all sorts of errands and messages—carry turf—draw water—light the fires—turn the spit, when the dog was absent, &c. tell lies, and eat any thing. One of these gossoons took a run (as they call it) of ten miles and back for some person, and only required a large dram of whiskey for his payment.