Legendary fictions of the Irish Celts

1 86 Fictions of the Irish Celts.
Droochan, tiie bugbear of the district, had been a man
of evil life, and consequently entitled after his death, to
annoy all peaceable subjects that had the ill-luck to live
in his neighbourhood.
A small family in that blighted vicinity were taking
their evening meal in their little parlour, when they were
alarmed by their servant-girl rushing across the hall from
the kitchen, and crying out, '• Oh, masther, masther,
Droochan's ghost ! He's in the kitchen." After fifteen
minutes spent in exclamations, hasty questions, confused
answers, and researches, the following dialogue
place
took
:— " What shape did he appear to you in " % " Oh,
I didn't see him at all !
" " ] \\'ho saw him " " The
cats." " How do you know ? " " Ah, sure there wasn't
a breath stirrin', when them two craythurs cocked their
ears, stood up on their hind legs, wud their eyes stanin'
in their heads, and sparred at one another with their
hands— I mean their fore paws. Then they let a yowl,
as if heaven and earth was coming together, and run off
into the coal shed. And what ghost could they be
seeing only Droochan's ? "
About four miles east of Baltinglass stands the hill of
Bally Carrigeen (rocky pass), and on its top a large
ring of rounded flags about nine yards in diameter,
and called Fan-a-CooVs griddle stones. On the side of
the neighbouring eminence are two long strips of turf,
much greener than that by which they are surrounded.
These are the marks of the resting-places of Fion Mac
Cuil and his wife, ^\•ho, when they rose early in the morn-
ing, descended the slope, washed their faces in the stream,
and baked the cakes for their breakfast on a griddle sup-
ported by these flags. However, we ha\-e not much to