Legendary fictions of the Irish Celts

148
Fictions of the Irish Celts.
taking one. Here it was a gorsoon playing marvels when
he should be using his clappers in the corn-field ; and
there it was a lazy drone of a servant asleep with his face
to the sod, when he ought to be weeding. No one
thought of offering the hearth-money man even a drink
of buttermilk, and at last the sun was within half a foot
of the edge of Cooliagh. They were just then passing
thro' Monamolin, and a poor woman that was straining her
supper in a skeeoge outside her cabin door, seeing the
two standing at the bawn gate, bawled out, " Oh, here's
the hearth-money man, run away wid 'im!" "Got
a bite at last," says Nick. " Oh, no, no ! it wasn't from
her heart she said it," says the collector. " Indeed
an' it was from the ven- foundation stone of her heart it
came. No help for misfortunes ; in with you," says he,
opening the mouth of his big black bag ; and whether the
devil was ever after seen taking the same walk or not,
no one ever laid eyes on his fellow traveller again.
The Cooliagh, or White Mountain, forms part of the
north-west boundary of Wexford. The mere English
reader is informed that the skeeoge or flattish wicker
basket, having received the potatoes and boiling water
on the pavement, lets the liquid off to the pool at the
bottom of the yard. The shields of the ancient Irish,
consisting of strong leather, or plates over a wicker frame-
work, were called skiaghs.
At some period of the troubles in INIunster a small
tribe emigrated to the north-east portion of the county
Wexford. The following legend connected with the
family was current among the descendants Avho lived,
and loved, and sinned, and fought the battle of life half
a century since.