AN GAODHAL.
159
EACHTRA AN BHUAILTEORA BHUIDHE,
Risteard de h-Enebre ro sgríobh.
Lá glan-fhuar, lom-seaca, gheimhrigh d'
ar eirigh amac sgológ macánta, súgach
ó n-a theallach theith, dhearg-mhóna féin
thárla gur chonnairc sé chuige cleithire
mor sgaoilte ar an maigh. Gidh nár
mheata, faitchiosach, an tí Seághan Sgo¬
lóg níor shámh ná shochair leis duine don
t-samhailt sin do thuidheacht n-a dháil i
meadhan mhachaire gan claoidh cluthmhar
le n-a ais 'n-a luidhfeadh ná diog doimh¬
in 'n-a d-tuilfeadh ó radharc an fhamaire
bhí go treun ag gluasacht 'n- a choinne.
Ar ndruidim n-a chomhair don fathaigh
do bhreathnuigh an Sgológ ar gheabhair a
oirnéise nach raibh ann acht fear bocht,
macánta & suiste ar a ghualainn bí ag
taisdiol na d-triucha ag buain lón a
bheathadh amach tre neart a lámh ag buail¬
eadh cruithneachta & coirce. Leis an aig¬
ne laghach sin bheannuigheas an Sgológ dhó
& do fhreagair an buailteoir go mín-
chneasda, milis, ag iarruidh eoluis air
go h-ionad éigin 'n-a bh-fuighbheadh dreas
oibre; "mar chualas," ar an buailteoir,
"go raibh uireasba buailteoiridhe ar an
áit so & a g-cuid arbhar acu da dhreógh¬
adh is na h-iothlannaibh." "Cia tú féin?"
ar an Sgológ, "no cad as duit?" "Mi¬
se," ar sé, "an Buailteoir Buidhe, ó bhói¬
thrín Rata-Choill, atá sealad ar n-am
sheoladh gan mheamhair gan éirim, de dhea¬
sga chaim-chleas calaoiseach Maime man¬
taighe, stara-fhiacal, & a dailtín duibh¬
sigh, .i a Mac mic an dionadóra."
"Cread do bhean duit triotha súd, a
dhuine bhoicht"? ar an Sgológ. "Atá,"
ar sé, "mo iolmhaoin, i mo shláinte, mo
mhuinntear, mo mhuirear, mo fhearann,
& mo bhán bolg reamhar blaochtach bó, do
chaill ó iomadamhlacht na g-cluithche do h-
imreadh orm trés an g-cailligh sin."
"Thoicim," ar an Sgológ, "tar isteach
liom gus an d-teine & dobhéar obair rae
ráithe dhuit 'san sgioból air maidin a
márach. Acht ceist agam ort, a bhuail¬
teoir; creud é do rogha gleus le h-aghaidh
bhuailte"? "O mhaiseadh," ar an buail¬
teoir, "da m-badh agam urlár lom &
(Translation)
[A typical Munster story.]
The Adventures of the Yellow Thresher.
One clear-cold bare-frosty day in
Winter that a kind, merry farmer went
out from his own hot hearth of burn¬
ing turf it happened that he saw (com¬
ing) towards him a great able fellow
on the plain. Although this person
John the Farmer, was neither coward¬
ly nor fearful (still) he was not pleas¬
ed or consoled that such a man should
be coming to him in the middle of a
field, where there was no cosy fence
by in which he might lie down nor
deep dyke in which he could fit him-
self away from the sight of the giant
coming so quickly to meet him. On
his coming nearer the farmer judged
from the appearance of his outfit that
he was but a poor, honest, man with a
flail on his shoulder travelling the
country in order to earn his bread with
the strength of his arm threshing oats
and wheat. With that kindly under¬
standing the farmer saluted him and
the thresher answered mildly and po¬
litely (at the same time) asking direc¬
tion to some place where he might get
a job of work, "for I heard" said the
thresher, “that this place was in want
of threshers and that the (peoples')
corn was rotting in the haggards."
"Who art thou,” said the farmer, "and
whence comest?” "I,” said he, "am
the Yellow Thresher from Raehill bor¬
heen who for some time have been
straying without memory or understan¬
ding because of the crooked, deceitful
tricks of Mam of the gapped mouth and
fang-teeth and her diabolical urchin i.e
the Son of the son of the thatcher."
"What happened to thee on their ac¬
count my poor man" ? said the farmer.
"It is,” said he, “that I lost my means
and my health, my kindred, my house-
folk, my land, and full-bellied milky
'bawn' of cows on account of the mul¬
titude of evil games practised upon me
by that hag."
"Well, now,” said the farmer, “come
in with me to the fire and I will give
to thee a quarter's work in the barn to-
