218
AN GAODHAL.
EACHTRA AN BHUAILTEORA BHUIDHE,
Risteard de h-Enebre so sgríobh
(Leanta)
Tar éis dam a bheith seal im' shuidhe do
rinneas mo lán dhith-cheall do shaothrughadh
mo ghno ag treabhadh & ag cur síl, acht
níor bh-feirrde dham é, óir do luigh doch¬
ar cruaidh orm & níor chabhar dam a bh-
fuighbhinn oibriughadh 'n-a aghaidh. Do
chailleas gan sgith a raibh agam de mhaoin
& do mhuirear, mo chráinte & mo chéise,
mo láir & mo laoigh, mo bha gan bhainne,
mo bhánta gan bharra, meadaracha agam
gan miosgán, acht medhg mo mheallta ⁊
driodar duaibhreach na n-deamhan. Is
beag nár imthigheas ar buile dhearg go
gleann na ngealt i g-crioch Chiarraighe
im' amadán gan treorúghadh de dheasga
feill-bheart na h-aicme damanta do h-
imreadh orm is na laethibh úd
Do bhí buachaill oibre agam ag cur
cruinteachta lá san n-garaidhe mhór &
fuair sé cúrsnúg piseogach in gach cúinne
do na ceithre cuinnidhibh don pháirc .i.
poll beag fa fhód & crois deunta de dhá
chipín ar a bhun go lán laghair cruithneach¬
ta ar n-a leagadh síos uirre Do bhí
tuighe go lór 'san bpáirc sin le linn an
fhoghmhar gan toradh ná bláth ar cheann
aon dheusa diobh acht amháin lóchán ead¬
trom, neamhtharbhach. Maidin lae Beal¬
taine do chuaidh an cailín aimsire gus
an tobar d' iarraidh lán chrúisgin d'
fhíor-uisge & is eadh fuair sí roimpe ach
baite beag dá rinn & cnapán ime ar
gach rinn acu. Rug sé lé' i bhaile é agus
do thuigeas ar an nóimin dhearg nach
biadh tarbha i bpreabadh na loingide go
cionn bliadhna eile ar an laighead. 'N
a h-aithle sin ar bhórd na Samhna fa fu¬
rus a aithne dham nach biadh againn acht
clabharáin dhubha i n-ionad prátaidhe an
bhliadhain sin ar iomad na n-ubh cearc
fuaramar i m-brollach gach umaire an
cheud lá do bhámar ag a m-buain.
Lá d'á rabhamar ag teacht tar na comh¬
arthaidhibh reamhráidhte, mo bhuachaill oib¬
re & me-fein, adubairt se liom, "Ní
deacair dhuit-si do chuid fein d'fhaghbhail
ar n-ais arís & tuilleadh leis." "Cion-
The Yellow Thresher.
Translation.
(Continued from page 192.)
Immediately on my recovery I did my
best endeavors to put my affairs to
rights. I ploughed and sowed seed
but all to no purpose; the heavy hand
lay upon me and vain were all my eff¬
orts to strive against it. Without de¬
lay I had lost all my means and my
whole family, my sows and my store
pigs, my mares and my calves, my
cows gave no milk and my fields no
crops, I had churns without butter-rolls
but instead the whey of my deelwing
and devilish lees of the demons.
The wonder is that I did not run off
in a raging fit of madness to 'Lunatic
Glen' in the county of Kerry, a fool
without power of directing myself, by
reason of the evil deeds worked against
me by that hellish crew in those days.
One day my labouring boy while
setting wheat in the Big Garden disco¬
vered a 'pishogue nest in each corner
of the four corners of the field, viz. a
little hole under the sod having a cross
made of little sticks at its bottom and
an open palm-ful of wheat laid down
on it. There was plenty of straw in
that field at harvest time, the ears,
however, had neither fruit nor flower
but light, unprofitable, chaff. On May
morning the servant girl went to the
well to fetch a pitcher full of spring
water and what should she find before
her but a little stick pointed at both
ends with a lump of butter stuck on
each point. She took it home with her
and I divined in a moment that there
would be no profit in the jumping of
the churn-dash for another year at
least. Afterwards towards the month
of November I might easily know that
our potatoe crop that year would be
small and black from the number of
hen eggs which we found in the breast
of every ridge the first day we went
to dig them.
As myself and my laboring boy were
one day talking about the above-men¬
