AN GAODHAL.
219
us," ars mi-se, "le draoigheacht do chur
i g-comhair i n-aghaidh na droinge atáid
le ciantaibh id' bhuaidhreadh. I d-taoibh
an ime dá bh-fuibhinn-se mo thoil féin air
doghéobhainn a chur id' sheilbh arís go sim¬
plidhe, socair, ar an t-slighe so. Lion
suas do mheadarach ar nós do budh gna¬
thach d'uachtar, & fagh soc ceuchta ar na
ghoradh-dhearg ón ngriosach & sniomh-chean¬
gal é go dluth do ghad caorthain fa chom
an mheadaracha. Annsan gabh ag buai¬
leadh na loingide le fuirse-fairse fua¬
drach go bheith dod' chnamhaibh agus dod'
chneas ar na n-a n-ola-bháidhte re dian-
fhrascaibh alluis & muna bh-fuighbhir im 'n
a chruachaibh go buaic an tighe ar noimin
na h-uaire is meallta dul a mughadh a¬
tá m'intinn-si. Buail do sheisreach fa
bán deich m-bliadhan & gabh ag treabhadh
leo go d-teigéamhaidh cloch beag ar bhárr
do shuic, & beir leat é sin oidhche dhubh-rae
go hárus do easgcarad & caith é trí
h-uaire tar mullach a bhotháin i n-ainm
an diabhail & doghéabhair ar d-teacht i
bhaile dhuit do chuid arbhar go leir do
gaideadh uait maille le draoigheacht idir
eorna, coirce, cruithneacht & seagal, id
iothlainn féin romhat. Agus ma atá suil
agat le dioghaltas & diachair do bhuain
asta tabhair puint do Sheághan Gabhadh
& cuir d'fhiachaibh air 'cluig do mhallacht'
do bhualadh dóibh le n-a lámh-órd ar a
inneóin d'a rádh fán' am cheudna na bh-
focal budh oireamhnach d'a lethéid sin d'
ocáid & biaidh a fhios ag an duthaigh cia
r b'iad fa ciontach id' thraochadh ar an
dtreasgairt gan truagh & ar an sgrio¬
sadh fola agus feola bhéaras orra tre
neimhneachas an chluithche sin."
"Leig dod' chadrás a chladhaire na
miochomhairle," ars mi-se, "atáim ag
druidim anois le bliadhantaibh mo shean-
órdhachta, & rud nár dhearnas ariamh, ní
bhia buain agam le comhachtaibh ifrinn go
deireadh mo rae, gidh go liathfadh mo
cheann & go bh-feodhfadh mo fheoil & mo
fhéithe le neart iota & ocrais. Gluais
uaim i n-ainm Dé ní fhuileóngad duine
dod' chlamparacht i m' aice nídh budh
faide."
D'imthigh sé leis & do bhádhas-sa ann-
tioned signs he said to me, "Not diffi¬
cult for thee to get thine own share
back again and more beside.” "How"?
Said I. "By working enchantment a¬
gainst the parties that have been so
long oppressing you. As to the butter
if I got my own will I could put it in¬
to your possession simply and easily in
this wise: Fill up thy churn in the
ordinary way and then having heated
a plough-share red hot in the fire tie it
tightly with a withe of mountain ash
round the middle of the churn. Then
begin pounding the dash with hurry
and haste until thy bones and skin are
oiled with heavy drops of sweat and
then if thou gettest not butter in ricks
to the ridge of the roof my mind is de¬
ceived and gone astray. Take, then,
thy yoke of ploughing horses into a
ten year 'bawn' field and plough away
with it until a small stone sticks bet¬
ween share and coulter. Take that
with thee of a dark moonless night to
the dwelling of the enemy and, having
cast it thrice over his house top in the
Devil's name, come home and thou
wilt find all the corn that was ever
stolen from thee through enchantment
whether barley, and oats, wheat, or
rye, before thee in thine own haggard.
And if thou be desirous of inflicting
vengeance and harm on them give a
pound to Jack the Smith and he will
strike the 'cursed knell' for them with
his sledge on the anvil, using at the
same time the form of words necessary
for such an occasion, and the world
will know who were those that were
guilty of thy harm through the des¬
truction and sorrow and through the
affliction in flesh and blood that will
overtake them by the poisonous power
of that charm."
"Cease thy evil prating thou rascal
of the ill-advice," said I. I am now
approaching the years of my old age
and a thing I never did before, neither,
will I, now, meddle with the powers
of Hell to the end of my life though
my head should become grey and my
flesh and sinews wither away for hun¬
