THE LEGEND OF KNOCKFIERNA.[2]
II.
It is a very good thing not to be any way in dread of the fairies, for without doubt they have then less power over a person; but to make too free with them, or to disbelieve in them altogether, is as foolish a thing as man, woman, or child can do.
It has been truly said, that “good manners are no burden,” and that “civility costs nothing;” but there are some people fool-hardy enough to disregard doing a civil thing, which, whatever they may think, can never harm themselves or any one else, and who at the same time will go out of their way for a bit of mischief, which never can serve them; but sooner or later they will come to know better, as you shall hear of Carroll O’Daly, a strapping young fellow up out of Connaught, whom they used to call, in his own country, “Devil Daly.”
Carroll O’Daly used to go roving about from one place to another, and the fear of nothing stopped him; he would as soon pass an old churchyard or a regular fairy ground, at any hour of the night as go from one room into another, without ever making the sign of the cross, or saying, “Good luck attend you, gentlemen.”
It so happened that he was once journeying, in the county of Limerick, towards “the Balbec of Ireland,” the venerable town of Kilmallock; and just at the foot of Knockfierna he overtook a respectable-looking man jogging along upon a white pony. The night was coming on, and they rode side by side for some time, without much conversation passing between them, further than saluting each other very kindly; at last, Carroll O’Daly asked his companion how far he was going?
“Not far your way,” said the farmer, for such his appearance bespoke him; “I’m only going to the top of this hill here.”
“And what might take you there,” said O’Daly, “at this time of the night?”
“Why then,” replied the farmer, “if you want to know; ’tis the good people.”