The Little Robber Girl
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES
Animal Sketches And Stories
Blondine Bonne Biche and Beau Minon
BRER RABBIT and HIS NEIGHBORS
CHINESE MOTHER-GOOSE RHYMES
FABLES FOR CHILDREN
FABLES FROM INDIA
FATHER PLAYS AND MOTHER PLAYS
FIRST STORIES FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
For Classes Ii. And Iii.
For Classes Iv. And V.
For Kindergarten And Class I.
FUN FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
Good Little Henry
JAPANESE AND OTHER ORIENTAL TALES]
Jean De La Fontaine
King Alexander's Adventures
KINGS AND WARRIORS
LAND AND WATER FAIRIES
Lessons From Nature
LITTLE STORIES that GROW BIG
MODERN FAIRY TALES
MOTHER GOOSE CONTINUED
MOTHER GOOSE JINGLES
MOTHER GOOSE SONGS AND STORIES
Myths And Legends
NEGLECT THE FIRE
ON POPULAR EDUCATION
PLACES AND FAMILIES
Poems Of Nature
RESURRECTION DAY (EASTER)
RHYMES CONCERNING "MOTHER"
RIDING SONGS for FATHER'S KNEE
ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES
SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY
Selections From The Bible
SLEEPY-TIME SONGS AND STORIES
Some Children's Poets
Songs Of Life
STORIES BY FAVORITE AMERICAN WRITERS
STORIES FOR CHILDREN
STORIES for LITTLE BOYS
STORIES FROM BOTANY
STORIES FROM GREAT BRITAIN
STORIES FROM IRELAND
STORIES FROM PHYSICS
STORIES FROM SCANDINAVIA
STORIES FROM ZOOLOGY
STORIES _for_ LITTLE GIRLS
THE DAYS OF THE WEEK
The King Of The Golden River; Or, The Black Brothers
The Little Grey Mouse
THE OLD FAIRY TALES
The Princess Rosette
THE THREE HERMITS
THE TWO OLD MEN
UNCLES AND AUNTS AND OTHER RELATIVES
VERSES ABOUT FAIRIES
WHAT MEN LIVE BY
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
The Wonderful Tune
from The Lilac Fairy Book
Maurice Connor was the king, and that's no small word, of all the
pipers in Munster. He could play jig and reel without end, and
Ollistrum's March, and the Eagle's Whistle, and the Hen's
Concert, and odd tunes of every sort and kind. But he knew one
far more surprising than the rest, which had in it the power to
set everything dead or alive dancing.
In what way he learned it is beyond my knowledge for he was
mighty cautious about telling how he came by so wonderful a tune.
At the very first note of that tune the shoes began shaking upon
the feet of all how heard it--old or young, it mattered not--just
as if the shoes had the ague; then the feet began going, going,
going from under them, and at last up and away with them, dancing
like mad, whisking here, there, and everywhere, like a straw in a
storm-- there was no halting while the music lasted.
Not a fair, nor a wedding, nor a feast in the seven parishes
round, was counted worth the speaking of without 'blind Maurice
and his pipes.' His mother, poor woman, used to lead him about
from one place to another just like a dog.
Down through Iveragh, Maurice Connor and his mother were taking
their rounds. Beyond all other places Iveragh is the place for
stormy coasts and steep mountains, as proper a spot it is as any
in Ireland to get yourself drowned, or your neck broken on the
land, should you prefer that. But, notwithstanding, in
Ballinskellig Bay there is a neat bit of ground, well fitted for
diversion, and down from it, towards the water, is a clean smooth
piece of strand, the dead image of a calm summer's sea on a
moonlight night, with just the curl of the small waves upon it.
Here is was that Maurice's music had brought from all parts a
great gathering of the young men and the young women; for 'twas
not every day the strand of Trafraska was stirred up by the voice
of a bagpipe. The dance began; and as pretty a dance it was as
ever was danced. 'Brave music,' said everybody, 'and well done,'
when Maurice stopped.
'More power to your elbow, Maurice, and a fair wind in the
bellows,' cried Paddy Dorman, a hump-backed dancing master, who
was there to keep order. ''Tis a pity,' said he, 'if we'd let the
piper run dry after such music; 'twould be a disgrace to Iveragh,
that didn't come on it since the week of the three Sundays.' So,
as well became him, for he was always a decent man, says he, 'Did
you drink, piper?'
'I will, sir,' said Maurice, answering the question on the safe
side, for you never yet knew piper or schoolmaster who refused
'What will you drink, Maurice?' says Paddy.
'I'm no ways particular,' says Maurice; 'I drink anything,
barring raw water; but if it's all the same to you, Mister
Dorman, may be you wouldn't lend me the loan of a glass of
'I've no glass, Maurice,' said Paddy; 'I've only the bottle.'
'Let that be no hindrance,' answered Maurice; 'my mouth just
holds a glass to the drop; often I've tried it sure.'
So Paddy Dorman trusted him with the bottle--more fool was he;
and, to his cost, he found that though Maurice's mouth might not
hold more than the glass at one time, yet, owing to the hole in
his throat, it took many a filling.
'That was no bad whisky neither,' says Maurice, handing back the
'By the holy frost, then!' says Paddy, ''tis but cold comfort
there's in that bottle now; and 'tis your word we must take for
the strength of the whisky, for you've left us no sample to judge
by'; and to be sure Maurice had not.
Now I need not tell any gentleman or lady that if he or she was
to drink an honest bottle of whisky at one pull, it is not at all
the same thing as drinking a bottle of water; and in the whole
course of my life I never knew more than five men who could do so
without being the worse. Of these Maurice Connor was not one,
though he had a stiff head enough of his own. Don't think I blame
him for it; but true is the word that says, 'When liquor's in
sense is out'; and puff, at a breath, out he blasted his
'Twas really then beyond all belief or telling the dancing.
Maurice himself could not keep quiet; staggering now on one leg,
now on the other, and rolling about like a ship in a cross sea,
trying to humour the tune. There was his mother, too, moving her
old bones as light as the youngest girl of them all; but her
dancing, no, nor the dancing of all the rest, is not worthy the
speaking about to the work that was going on down upon the
strand. Every inch of it covered with all manner of fish jumping
and plunging about to the music, and every moment more and more
would tumble in and out of the water, charmed by the wonderful
tune. Crabs of monstrous size spun round and round on one claw
with the nimbleness of a dancing master, and twirled and tossed
their other claws about like limbs that did not belong to them.
It was a sight surprising to behold. But perhaps you may have
heard of Father Florence Conry, as pleasant a man as one would
wish to drink with of a hot summer's day; and he had rhymed out
all about the dancing fishes so neatly that it would be a
thousand pities not to give you his verses; so here they are in
The big seals in motion,
Like waves of the ocean,
Or gouty feet prancing,
Came heading the gay fish,
Crabs, lobsters, and cray-fish,
Determined on dancing.
The sweet sounds they followed,
The gasping cod swallow'd--
'Twas wonderful, really;
And turbot and flounder,
'Mid fish that were rounder,
Just caper'd as gaily.
John-dories came tripping;
Dull hake, by their skipping,
To frisk it seem'd given;
Bright mackrel went springing,
Like small rainbows winging
Their flight up to heaven.
The whiting and haddock
Left salt water paddock
This dance to be put in;
Where skate with flat faces
Edged out some old plaices;
But soles kept their footing.
Sprats and herrings in powers
Of silvery showers
All number out-numbered;
And great ling so lengthy
Was there in such plenty
The shore was encumber'd.
The scallop and oyster
Their two shells did roister,
Like castanets flitting;
While limpets moved clearly,
And rocks very nearly
With laughter were splitting.
Never was such a hullabaloo in this world, before or since; 'twas
as if heaven and earth were coming together; and all out of
Maurice Connor's wonderful tune!
In the height of all these doings, what should there be dancing
among the outlandish set of fishes but a beautiful young woman--
as beautiful as the dawn of day! She had a cocked hat upon her
head; from under it her long green hair--just the colour of the
sea-- fell down behind, without hindrance to her dancing. Her
teeth were like rows of pearls; her lips for all the world looked
like red coral; and she had a shining gown pale green as the
hollow of the wave, with little rows of purple and red seaweeds
settled out upon it; for you never yet saw a lady, under the
water or over the water, who had not a good notion of dressing
Up she danced at last to Maurice, who was flinging his feet from
under him as fast as hops--for nothing in this world could keep
still while that tune of his was going on--and says she to him,
chanting it out with a voice as sweet as honey:
I'm a lady of honour
Who live in the sea;
Come down, Maurice Connor,
And be married to me.
Silver plates and gold dishes
You shall have, and shall be
The king of the fishes,
When you're married to me.
Drink was strong in Maurice's head, and out he chanted in return
for her great civility. It is not every lady, may be, that would
be after making such an offer to a blind piper; therefore 'twas
only right in him to give her as good as she gave herself, so
I'm obliged to you, madam:
Off a gold dish or plate,
If a king, and I had 'em,
I could dine in great state.
With your own father's daughter
I'd be sure to agree,
But to drink the salt water
Wouldn't do so with me!
The lady looked at him quite amazed, and swinging her head from
side to side like a great scholar, 'Well,' says she, 'Maurice, if
you're not a poet, where is poetry to be found?'
In this way they kept on at it, framing high compliments; one
answering the other, and their feet going with the music as fast
as their tongues. All the fish kept dancing, too; Maurice heard
the clatter and was afraid to stop playing lest it might be
displeasing to the fish, and not knowing what so many of them may
take it into their heads to do to him if they got vexed.
Well, the lady with the green hair kept on coaxing Maurice with
soft speeches, till at last she over persuaded him to promise to
marry her, and be king over the fishes, great and small. Maurice
was well fitted to be their king, if they wanted one that could
make them dance; and he surely would drink, barring the salt
water, with any fish of them all.
When Maurice's mother saw him with that unnatural thing in the
form of a green-haired lady as his guide, and he and she dancing
down together so lovingly to the water's edge, through the thick
of the fishes, she called out after him to stop and come back.
'Oh, then,' says she, 'as if I was not widow enough before, there
he is going away from me to be married to that scaly woman. And
who knows but 'tis grandmother I may be to a hake or a cod--Lord
help and pity me, but 'tis a mighty unnatural thing! And my be
'tis boiling and eating my own grandchild I'll be, with a bit of
salt butter, and I not knowing it! Oh, Maurice, Maurice, if
there's any love or nature left in you, come back to your own
ould mother, who reared you like a decent Christian!' Then the
poor woman began to cry and sob so finely that it would do anyone
good to hear her.
Maurice was not long getting to the rim of the water. There he
kept playing and dancing on as if nothing was the matter, and a
great thundering wave coming in towards him ready to swallow him
up alive; but as he could not see it, he did not fear it. His
mother it was who saw it plainly through the big tears that were
rolling down her cheeks; and though she saw it, and her heart was
aching as much as ever mother's heart ached for a son, she kept
dancing, dancing all the time for the bare life of her. Certain
it was she could not help it, for Maurice never stopped playing
that wonderful tune of his.
He only turned his ear to the sound of his mother's voice,
fearing it might put him out in his steps, and all the answer he
made back was, 'Whisht with you mother--sure I'm going to be king
over the fishes down in the sea, and for a token of luck, and a
sign that I'm alive and well, I'll send you in, every twelvemonth
on this day, a piece of burned wood to Trafraska.' Maurice had
not the power to say a word more, for the strange lady with the
green hair, seeing the wave just upon them, covered him up with
herself in a thing like a cloak with a big hood to it, and the
wave curling over twice as high as their heads, burst upon the
strand, with a rush and a roar that might be heard as far as Cape
That day twelvemonth the piece of burned wood came ashore in
Trafraska. It was a queer thing for Maurice to think of sending
all the way from the bottom of the sea. A gown or a pair of shoes
would have been something like a present for his poor mother; but
he had said it, and he kept his word. The bit of burned wood
regularly came ashore on the appointed day for as good, ay, and
better than a hundred years. The day is now forgotten, and may be
that is the reason why people say how Maurice Connor has stopped
sending the luck-token to his mother. Poor woman, she did not
live to get as much as one of them; for what through the loss of
Maurice, and the fear of eating her own grandchildren, she died
in three weeks after the dance. Some say it was the fatigue that
killed her, but whichever it was, Mrs. Connor was decently buried
with her own people.
Seafaring people have often heard, off the coast of Kerry, on a
still night, the sound of music coming up from the water; and
some, who have had good ears, could plainly distinguish Maurice
Connor's voice singing these words to his pipes--
Beautiful shore, with thy spreading strand,
Thy crystal water, and diamond sand;
Never would I have parted from thee,
But for the sake of my fair ladie.
From 'Fairy Tales and Traditions of the South of Ireland.'
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