Legendary fictions of the Irish Celts

Household Stones. 7
the coping stone, the scaffolding would, somehow or
other, get loose, himself fall down a itw' stories and be
kilt, the king wring his hands, and shed a few crocodile
tears, and the like palace never be seen within the 'four
seas of Ireland.
'•' Sha gu dheine"* says the Goban to himself; but
next day he spoke out plain enough to the king. " Please
your Majesty," says he, " I am now pretty near the end of
my work, but there is still something to be done before we
come to the wall-plate that is to make all sure and strong.
There is a bit of a charm about it, but I haven't the tool
here—it is at home, and my son got so sick last night,
and is lying so bad, he is not able to go for it. If you
can't spare the young prince, I must go myself, for my
wife wouldn't intrust it to any one but of royal blood."
The king, rather than let the Goban out of his sight,
sent the young prince for the tool. The Goban told him
some outlandish name in Irish, which his wife would find
at his bed's head, and bid him make all the haste he
could back.
In a week's time, back came two of the poor attendants
that were with the prince, and told the king that
his son was well off, with the best of eating and drinking,
and chess-playing and sword exercise, that any prince
could wish for, but that out of her sight the Goban's wife
nor her people would let him, till she had her husband
safe and sound inside of his own threshold.
Well, to be sure, how the king fumed and raged ! but
what's the use of striving to tear down a stone wall with
your teeth 1 He could do without his palace being
finished, but he couldn't do without his son and heir.
The Goban didn't keep spite ; he put the finishing touch
to the palace in three days, and, in two days more, himself
and his son were sitting at the farmer's fireside where
the two purty young girls won
" Well, my colleen bawn," says he to the one with the
fair hair, " did you mind the advice I gev you when I
* " That's it," or " Is that it ?"
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