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  Murroghoo-more and Murroghoo-beg

  MURROGHOO-MORE and Murroghoo-beg were cousins and lived in the one townland. Murroghoo-more was the biggest and strongest and always kept poor Murroghoo-beg at his command, and made him do what he liked. Murroghoo-more one day gave Murroghoo-beg a skillet and says he to him, “Murroghoo-beg, go out to the wood and pluck the full of that skillet of raspberries.” Murroghoo-beg took the skillet and went to the wood and filled it with the raspberries, but on the way home again there come on a shower, and Murroghoo-beg had to go in under a bush till it would pass over. When he was in under the bush he began to take the hunger, and when he looked at the fine skillet of ripe raspberries he was carrying home to lazy Murroghoo-more his teeth began to water, and poor Murroghoo-beg couldn’t help tasting one raspberry just to see what they were like, and then another, and another, till at last he finished the skillet. Very well and good. When he came home, says Murroghoo-more, “Where’s the raspberries I sent ye for?” “I had the full of the skillet, but hunger took me on the road home, and I ate them,” says Murroghoo-beg. So Murroghoo-more thrashed him soundly. Well the next morning Murroghoo-more come to Murroghoo-beg again, and gave him the skillet, and told him to go to the wood and pull him a skillet of raspberries; “and mind,” says he, “that hunger doesn’t take you on the way home the day, or it will be worse for ye.” Poor Murroghoo-beg promised that it would not, and he set out this day again and pulled the full of the skillet of raspberries in the wood; and on his way home doesn’t a shower come on again and put him under a bush, and the hunger took him again, and he ate the skillet of raspberries. So when he went home Murroghoo-more asked him where was his raspberries, and poor Murroghoo-beg told him again what happened to him. “All right,” says Murroghoo-more, and he set to and thrashed Murroghoo-beg soundly. Very good, the next morning Murroghoo-more comes to Murroghoo-beg the third time, and gave him the skillet and told him to go out to the wood and pull him a skillet of raspberries, and that if he ate the raspberries this time again he would surely have his life. But poor Murroghoo-beg ate a hearty breakfast, and said there was no fear of the hunger taking him the day. So out he goes to the wood and fills his skillet again, and set out whistling to carry it home to Murroghoo-more. But what would you have of it but the shower put Murroghoo-beg anunder the bush, and the hunger took him and he ate the skillet of raspberries again. Then he went home to Murroghoo-more, and says Murroghoo-more, “Where’s my skillet of raspberries I sent you to the wood to pluck for me.” “Och!” says Murroghoo-beg, says he, “the hunger took me and I ate them.” “All right,” says Murroghoo-more, “ye must die. I’ll pick out your eyes first, and then I’ll leave it to yourself to choose how to die after.” So he got a pointed stick, and setting it on fire, he put it into poor Murroghoo-beg’s eyes and burned them out. “Now,” says Murroghoo-more, “what am I to do with you?” “Well,” says Murroghoo-beg, says he, “I suppose the easiest death will be to leave me over in that old church all night, for no one that stops a night there is ever alive in the morning.” Very well and good, Murroghoo-more took poor Murroghoo-beg over to the old church and left him there. About midnight poor Murroghoo-beg hears the roolie-boolie and helter-skelter, and in comes a whole rajimint of cats. Murroghoo-beg got under some planks in the corner, so he wasn’t seen, but could hear all the cats would say. After a lot of chat they proposed to tell stories. So they squared themselves round, and then they differed on which of them would tell the first story. Every one of them put it to an older one till at length it came to an old granny cat, and she consented to tell her story, but she said the house would have to be well searched first, for it wouldn’t do for anyone to overhear what she had to say. Well and good, all the young cats went hurry skurry round the church, looking under the seats and everywhere, and poor Murroghoo-beg begun to tremble in his skin now with fear of being caught, for he knew they would tear him to pieces. But the young cats were in such a hurry to hear the old granny cat’s story that they forgot to look under the planks where Murroghoo-beg was hid. Then they reported there was no one in the house nor round about it, so the old cat begun her story.

  “Well,” says she, “the daughter of the king is lying bad, and very bad, and she has been that way now, off and on, for twelve months, only it’s what it’s worse she is getting every day, and all the first doctors in the land have been called in, and the king has offered her weight in gold to the man that will cure her, but it’s all of no use. None of them can make out what’s wrong with her, or how she can be cured. But I know her complaint and know how to cure it, and I’ll tell you it all, only you must promise never to come out with it, for I mean to let her die a lingering death,” says she.

  They all promised that they’d never split lips again on the subject, so the spiteful old cat went on—

  “Well, then,” says she, “long ago, when she was a child, she saw me putting my head into a noggin of sweet-milk, and she came up and hit me on the head, and made me drop the mouthful I had got, back into the pail again, and she then took a drink out of the pail herself with the venom of my spittal in it, and from that day young serpents have been growing in her. There’s one thing, and only one, would cure her, and rid her of the serpents, and that, please the devil, she’ll never have, nor never know of—that is, just three spoonfuls of water out of the well here at the back of the church, to be taken nine mornings on the bare stomach, fasting.”

  Murroghoo-beg heard all this, and he waited till the cats went all away, and in the morning he came out, and, groping his way to the well, he took off his boots and filled one of them with water, and then started for the king’s palace, and when he come there all that place was in a commotion with all the first doctors of the three kingdoms and France besides. And when poor Murroghoo-beg come in, and he was asked what was wrong with him, and he said he had come to cure the king’s daughter; and they asked him where was his medicine, and he said he had it in his boot, they commenced laughing at him, and the doctors ordered him to be turned out. And the servants begun to shove and push poor Murroghoo-beg to put him out of the palace, but Murroghoo wasn’t for going, and that was the roolie-boolie! And by the toss o’ wars what with the wrestling and the fighting and the racketing they made, doesn’t the sick lady hear it, and she sent down word to know what was going on. And they sent back the word that it was a poor demented man that wanted to cure her ladyship with a bootful of spring water. “Let him come up,” said her ladyship; “sure he can’t do no worse nor the rest of them anyhow.” Well, her wish, of course, was a command. Up my brave Murroghoo-beg was taken, and when he come into her ladyship’s presence he told her he would get her out of bed in short time. So he put her under cure of three spoonfuls of the water he had in his boot, on the bare stomach fasting for nine mornings. The other doctors looked on and shook their heads, but daren’t say anything. But the tables were soon turned on them, for sure enough the very first day she took the water she felt great ease entirely, and so on day after day, till on the morning of the ninth day after she had took the medicine she was taken with a fit of vomiting, and vomited up the full of a basin of young serpents, and then she got up out of her bed, and walked out as fine, strong, and handsome a young woman as you would ask to see. And she was so well pleased at this, and the king was so well pleased that they sent home Murroghoo-beg with double her weight in gold along with him. After Murroghoo-beg came home he went to the well behind the old church for nine mornings bathing his eyes in it every morning, and on the ninth morning his eyes and his eyesight were as good as ever. Poor Murroghoo-beg could now live happy and well for the remainder of his days, only the dread was in him still of Murroghoo-more, and he knew that when Murroghoo-more would hear of his good luck he would put him to death, and take his gold. And right enough it wasn’t long till it come to Murroghoo-more’s ears that Murroghoo-beg was back alive again with his eyes and eyesight, and no end of gold into the bargain, however he had come by it. So my brave Murroghoo-more starts out and comes to M
urroghoo-beg, and, “Murroghoo-beg,” says he, “I thought I left ye for death; and is it here ye are now?” “Oh,” says Murroghoo-beg, “but it was you that did me the good turn entirely. Here I am now with eyes and my eyesight, and a good bag of gold into the bargain; and if you would only put out my eyes and leave me overnight in the old church again, I think I would have still better luck this time.” “How is that?” says Murroghoo-more. “Why,” says Murroghoo-beg, “this is the way of it”—and he commences telling Murroghoo-more about how there was a lot of cats came every night to the old church, and commenced to tell stories every one of them about where there was no end of treasure hid, and about wonderful easy cures for eyes that would be picked out of men’s heads, till he had Murroghoo-more beside himself with delight. “You must take and pick out my eyes, now,” says Murroghoo-more, “and leave me in the old church the night.” “Very good,” says Murroghoo-beg, “I’ll do that with a heart and a half.” So reddening a pointed stick in the fire Murroghoo-beg picked out the eyes of Murroghoo-more, and took him to the old church, and hid him under the same planks he had been under himself. And there Murroghoo-more lay till midnight, when he hears the roolie-boolie starting, and in comes tumbling the cats. “Och, square round, square round,” the young ones begun to cry till we tell stories. “Now,” says Murroghoo-more to himself, “now I’m in for it.” “I’ll tell no more stories,” says the old granny cat, “for the last night that I told the story about the king’s daughter you didn’t search the house rightly, and Murroghoo-beg was lying hid there under them planks in the corner, and he heard the whole rehearsal and went off and cured her—bad luck to him and her!—and got double her weight in gold for it, and cured his own eyes that had been picked out by Murroghoo-more into the bargain.” “Oh, but,” says the young cats, “we’ll search better this night, and I’ll warrant you we’ll look under the planks, and may the Lord pity Murroghoo-beg if he’s eavesdropping again.” So off they set at a gallop to search the house, beginning first by looking under the planks; and when they went in there, oh, that was the ruction and the uproar, and out they comes, hauling Murroghoo-more with them, and when the old cats saw this they come bouncing down, spitting, and their eyes flashing fire, and all of them fell on him, tearing him to pieces, and it was trying to see who would get most of him they were. So, when Murroghoo-beg went to the old church in the morning to see what had become of Murroghoo-more, he got nothing only a rickle of bare bones. Murroghoo-beg buried these, and went home and lived happy ever after.

  The Queen of the Golden Mines

  ONCE on a time there was a King of Ireland, and he had three sons, Teddy, Billy, and Jack. Teddy and Billy was the two eldest, and they were brave able boys. But Jack was the youngest, a gauchy, dawnie sort of a lad that was good for nothing only feeding fowls and doing odd turns about the house. When they grew up to be men, Teddy and Billy one day said they’d go away to travel and see the world, for they’d only be good-for-nothing omadhauns if they’d stay here all their lives. Their father said that was good, and so off the both of them started. And that night when they halted from their travelling, who does they see coming up after them, but Jack; for it seems he commenced to think long, when he found them gone, and he was that lonesome that he couldn’t stay behind them. And there he was dressed in his old tattered clothes, a spec-tacle for the world, and a disgrace to them; for of course, they were done off with the best of everything—rale gentlemen, as becomed their father’s sons. They said to themselves they’d be long sorry to let that picthur with them—for he was a picthur, and no doubt of it—to be an upcast to them wherever they’d go. So before they started on again next mornin’ they tied Jack to a millstone, and left him there. That night again, when they went to stop from their travellin’, what would you have of it but there was me brave Jack once more, not a hundred parches behind them, and he dragging the millstone after him. Teddy and Billy said this was too bad entirely; and next day, before they started again, they tied another millstone to him, and they said, “Well, you’ll not get away from here in a hurry anyhow, boy.” So on they went again on their journey, laughing and cracking jokes, and telling passages, to pass the time; but that night again, when they went to stop from their journey, lo! and behold ye, who does they see coming tearing after them but my poor Jack, once more, with the two millstones dragging behind him. Then they were in a quandhary entirely, and they begun to consider what was best to do with him, for they saw there was no holdin’, or tyin’ of him, or keepin’ him back at all, at all, for if they were to tie him to a mountain in the mornin’, he’d be afther them with the mountain rattling at his heels again’ night. So they come to the conclusion that it was best to take Jack with them, and purtend him to be their hired boy, and not their brother at all. Of course, me poor Jack, that was always agreeable, was only too ready to go on these terms; and on the three of them went, afore them, till at length they reached the King of England’s castle. When the King of England heard Teddy and Billy was the King of Ireland’s two sons, he give them ceud mile failte, was plaised and proud to see them, ordhered them to be made much of, then opened his hall door, an’ asked in the nobility an’ genthry of the whole counthry side to a big dinner and ball that he gave in their honour. But what do you have of it, but in the middle of the ball doesn’t Teddy have a fall out with the King of England’s son, and sthruck him, and then that was the play! The hubbub and hooroosh got up, and the King ordhered the ball to be stopped, and had Teddy taken pres’ner, and Billy and Jack ordhered away out of the kingdom. Billy and Jack went away, vexed in their hearts at leaving Teddy in jail, and they travelled away till they came to France, and the King of France’s Castle. Here when the King of France heard that Billy, the King of Ireland’s son, had come to see him he went out and welcomed him, an’ asked in himself and Jack to come in and make a visit with him. And, like the King of England, he thought he couldn’t make too much of the King of Ireland’s sons, and threw open his hall door and asked in the whole nobility and clergy and genthry of all the country side into a great dinner and ball given in Billy’s honour. But lo! and behould ye, doesn’t it turn up at this ball, too, that Billy had a squabble with the King of France’s son and struck him, and the ball was stopped by the King’s ordhers, and the people sent home, and Billy taken prisoner, and there was poor Jack now left all alone. The King of France, taking pity on Jack, employed him as a boy. And Jack was getting along very well at Court, and the king and him used to have very great yarns together entirely. At length a great war broke out betwixt France and Germany; and the King of France was in great trouble, for the Germans were slaughtering and conquering all before them. Says Jack, says, he to the King one day, “I wish I had only half a rajimint of your men, and you’d see what I would do.” Instead of this the King gave him a whole army, and in less nor three days there wasn’t a German alive in the whole kingdom of France. It was the king was the thankful man to Jack for this good action, and said he never could forget it to him. After that Jack got into great favour at Court, and used to have long chats with the Queen herself. But Jack soon found that he never could come into the Queen’s presence that he didn’t put her in tears. He asked her one day what was the meaning of this, and she told him that it was because she never looked on him that he didn’t put her in mind of her infant son that had, twelve months’ before, been carried away by the Queen of the Golden Mines, and who she had never heard tale or tidings of from that day to this. “Well, be this and be that,” says Jack, says he, “but I’m not the man to leave ye in your trouble if I can help it; and be this and be that over again,” says he, “but I won’t sleep two nights in the one bed, or eat two meals’ meat in the one house, till I find out the Queen of the Golden Mines’s Castle, and fetch back your infant son to ye—or else I’ll not come back livin’.” “Ah,” says the Queen, “that would never do!” and “Ah,” says the King, “that would never do at all, at all!” They pointed out and showed to him how a hundred great knights had gone on the s
ame errand before him, and not one of them ever come back livin’, and there was no use in him throwin’ away his life, for they couldn’t afford to lose him. But it was all no use; Jack was bound on goin’, and go he would. So, the very next morning he was up at cock-crow, and afther leavin’ good-bye with the whole of them, and leavin’ the King and the Queen in tears, he started on his journey. And he travelled away afore him, inquiring his way to the Castle of the Queen of the Golden Mines; and he travelled and tramped for many a weary day, and for many a weary week, and for many a weary month; till at last when it was drawing on twelve months from the day he left the Castle of the King of France, one day tors’t evening he was travelling through a thick wood, when he fell in with an old man, resting, with a great bundle of sticks by his side; and “Me poor old man,” says Jack, says he, “that’s a mighty great load entirely for a poor man of your years to be carryin’. Sure, if ye’ll allow me, I’ll just take them with me, for ye, as far as you’re goin’.” “Blissins on ye!” says the ould man; “an’ an ould man’s blissin’ atop of that; an’ thanky.” “Nobbut, thanky, yerself, for your good wishes,” says Jack, says he, throwin’ the bundle of sticks on his shoulder, an’ marchin’ on by the ould man’s side. And they thravelled away through the wood till they come at last to the ould man’s cabin. And the ould man axed Jack to come in and put up with him for the night, and such poor accommodation as he had, Jack was heartily welcome to them, Jack thanked him and went in and put up the night with him, and in the morning Jack told the ould man the arrand he was on and axed if he’d diract him on his way to the Queen of the Golden Mines’s Castle. Then the ould man took out Jack, and showed him a copper castle glancing in the sun, on a hill opposite, and told him that was his journey’s end. “But, my poor man,” says he, “I would strongly advise ye not to go next or near it. A hundred knights went there afore you on the self-same errand, and their heads are now stuck on a hundred spears right afore the castle; for there’s a fiery dragon guards it that makes short work of the best of them.” But seeing Jack wasn’t to be persuaded off his entherprise nohow, he took him in and gave him a sword that carried ten men’s strength in it along with that of the man that wielded it. And he told Jack, if he was alive again’ night, and not killed by the dhragon, to come back to his cabin. Jack thanked him for the sword, and promised this, and then he set out for the castle. But lo! and behold ye, no sooner did Jack come anear the castle than a terrible great monsther of a dhragon entirely, the wildest ever Jack seen or heard tell of, come out from the castle, and he opened his mouth as wide as the world from side to side, and let a roar that started the old grey eagle on top of Croaghpathrick mountain at home in Ireland. Poor Jack thrimbled from head to foot—and small wonder he did—but, not a bit daunted, he went on to meet the dhragon, and no sooner were they met than he to it and the dhragon to it, and they fought and sthrove long and hard, the wildest fight by far that poor Jack ever entered into, and they fought that way from early mornin’ till the sun went down, at one time Jack seemin’ to be gettin’ the betther of the dhragon, and the next minute the dhragon gettin’ the betther of Jack; and when the sun went down they called a truce of peace till next day; and Jack dragged himself back to the cabin in small hopes of being able to meet the dhragon more, for he was covered over with wounds from head to foot. But when he got to the cabin the ould man welcomed him back alive, and he took down a little bottle of ointment and rubbed it over Jack, and no sooner did he rub it over him than Jack’s wounds were all healed as well as ever again. And Jack went out a new man the next mornin’ to give the dhragon another try for it this day. And just as on the day afore the fiery dhragon come down the hill meeting poor Jack; and the dhragon opened his mouth as wide as the world, and gave a roar that shook the nails on the toes of the great grey eagle on top of Croaghpathrick mountain at home in Ireland, and then he fell on Jack, and Jack fell on him, and the dhragon to it, and Jack to it; and the dhragon gave Jack his fill, and Jack gave the dhragon his fill; and if they fought hard the day afore they fought double as hard this day, and the dhragon put very sore on Jack entirely till the sun went down. Then again they agreed on a truce of peace till the next mornin’, and Jack dragged himself back as best he could to the cabin again, all covered over with cuts and bruises, and streaming down with blood. And when he came there the ould man took down a little bottle of ointment and rubbed Jack over with it, and he was healed as well as ever again. Next morning Jack was up quite fresh and ready for another day’s battling, and the ould man told Jack that, win or lose, this day was like to end the battle. And he said if Jack happened (as God send) to come off victorious, he was to go into the castle, and there he would find a great number of beautiful virgins running about in great confusion to prevent Jack from discovering their mistress the Queen of the Golden Mines, and every one of them axing, “Is it me ye want? Is it me ye want?” But he told Jack he was to heed none of them, but press through room after room till he come to the sixth room, and there he would find the Queen herself asleep, with the little child by her side. So Jack went meeting the dhragon this third day again, and the dhragon come meeting Jack. And he opened his mouth as wide as the world, and let a roar that rattled the eyes in the sockets of the great grey eagle on top of Croaghpathrick mountain at home in Ireland, and then fell on Jack, and Jack fell on him; and he to it, and Jack to it, and both of them to it; and if the fight was wild and terrible the first two days it was ten times wilder and terribler this day. And harder and harder it was getting the more they warmed to the work; and one time it was Jack was getting the better of the dhragon, and the next time it was the dhragon was getting the better of poor Jack; and at last coming on tor’st night the dhragon was putting very hard on Jack entirely, and it was very nearly being all over with him, when he stepped back, and gathering all his strength mounted into the air with one spring, and come down atop of the dhragon’s head, and struck his sword into his heart, leaving him over dead. Then Jack went into the castle, and no sooner did he go in than there was lots of the most beautiful virgins, running in great commotion, and asking Jack, “is it me ye want?” “Is it me ye want?” But Jack never heeded them till he come into the sixth room, where he saw the beautiful Queen of the Golden Mines asleep, with the Queen of France’s child asleep beside her. Jack bent over her and gave her one kiss, for she was a lovely picthur. Then he took up the child in his arms, and picking up a beautiful garter all glancing with diamonds, that was lying by the Queen’s bedside, and taking with him a loaf of bread that could never be eaten out, a bottle of wine that could never be drunk out, and a purse that could never be emptied, he started away. He stopped that night with the ould man, who took down his bottle of ointment and healed up all the wounds Jack got that day. In the morning Jack started for France, leaving with the ould man to keep till the Queen of the Golden Mines would call for it the purse that never could be emptied. When Jack reached France, and presented back to the Queen her darling child, that was the rejoicement and the joy! There was a great faist given, and at the faist Jack said he had a little wondher he fetched with him, that he’d like to show; and he produced his bottle, and sent it round the prences, and nobility, and genthry that were all assembled at the faist, and axed them all to drink the Queen’s health out of it. This they all did; and lo! and behold ye, when they had finished the bottle was as full as when they commenced; and they all said that bate all ever they knew or heerd tell of; and the King said it bate all ever he knew or heerd tell of, too, and that the same bottle would be of mighty great sarvice to him, to keep his troops in drink when he’d go to war, and axed Jack on what tarms he’d part with it. Jack said he couldn’t part with it entirely, as it wasn’t his own, but if the King relaised his brother he’d leave the bottle with him till such times as the Queen of the Golden Mines might call for it. The Queen agreed to this. Jack’s brother was relaised, and himself and Jack started off for England. When they were come there the King of England gave a great faist in their honour, too, and at t
his faist Jack said he’d like to show them a little wonder he fetched with him, and he produced the loaf, and axed the King to divide all round. And the King cut off the loaf, and divided all round, over all the prences and nobility and gentry that was there; and when he had finished they were all lost in wondherment, for the loaf was still as big as when the King commenced to cut. The King said that would be the grand loaf for feeding his troops whenever he went to war, and axed Jack what would he take to part with it. Jack said the loaf wasn’t his to part with, but if the King relaised his brother out of prison he’d give him the loaf till such times as the Queen of the Golden Mines might call for it. The King agreed to this, and relaised Jack’s other brother, and then the three of them started for home together. And when they were come near home the two older brothers agreed that Jack when he’d tell his story would disgrace them, and they’d put him to death. But Jack agreed if they’d let him live he would go away and push his fortune, and never go back near home. They let him live on these conditions, and they pushed on home, where they were received with great welcomes, and told mortial great things entirely of all the great things they done while they were away. Jack come to the castle in disguise and got hired as a boy and lived there.