The Leperhaun: A Legend Of The Emerald Isle

: ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES
: The Old-fashioned Fairy Book

Once upon a time, by the glimmer of the nursery-fire, a little girl sat

listening to the tales told by her buxom Irish nurse. The details of

most of these--notably of one very thrilling legend of the Banshee, who

has ever since seemed to float upon the wind that blows after

nightfall--have passed from memory; but the good old story of Molly

Jones and the Leperhaun remains, and, as best I can, I reproduce it

here.



In a comfortable farm-house upon the outskirts of a small village in

Ireland, lived a farmer with his six sons. He was a prosperous man, and,

besides having better cows, pigs, and potatoes than any other man in the

county, was said to keep a tidy bit of money laid away in bank. Only one

maid-servant did the work of the house, and she had lived there for

many a year. At last she died, and the farmer looked about him for a

girl to take her place. The wages were high, and a strapping lass named

Mary Jones made up her mind that she was the right person for the

situation. The farmer liked her looks, and engaged her on the spot.



"Now, Molly, lass," said the master, when he had finished taking her

around the house, and showing her how neat and convenient everything

was; "you see what you've got to do, and that's the end of it. Nobody in

this house, who works well, has ever cause to want for encouragement,

for there's hands to help them that aren't too curious! The main thing

you'd better guard against is takin' notes and askin' questions."



Molly protested that she was innocent of the inheritance of Mother Eve;

and the farmer went on with his directions.



"On the first night of every month the family goes early to bed, and it

will be your business to see that the hearth is well swept, and fresh

turf laid upon the fire, and to collect around it all the worn or broken

shoes about the house. The last thing before you leave the room, be sure

to set before the fire a nice bowl of mealy potatoes bursting from their

jackets, a couple of herrings broiled to a turn, and a jug of sweet

buttermilk--and, whatever you do, never forget the salt!"



Molly, though burning with curiosity, courtesied, and said nothing. All

went well till the first night of the coming month. "When the family was

retiring, the farmer whispered:



"Remember, Molly! Be abed and asleep before the clock strikes twelve;

and don't forget the salt."



Molly tidied her kitchen, swept the hearth, arranged around it all the

worn and broken shoes in the house, her own Sunday pair included; and,

after setting a nice little meal, covered with a white cloth, near the

fire, wound up the clock and went to bed. Next morning what was her

surprise to find not only all the boots and shoes neatly mended, but the

empty jug and platter washed and restored to their places, while a

beautiful fire was blazing merrily! She dared not ask any questions of

the farmer or his sons, and no one appeared in the least surprised by

what had occurred. That month her work went so easily that Molly thought

it child's play. Her bread was baked brown and light, her potatoes were

a triumph, her churning was done sooner than anybody's in the place, and

her linen was hung out to dry by sunrise on Monday mornings. For a

month or two Molly never failed to set her kitchen in order, as before,

for the mysterious guest. But one night she was in a hurry, and forgot

the salt. Next morning the boots were mended, but the fire was scattered

on the hearth, ashes lay all about her neat kitchen, and the dishes were

left unwashed. This excited Molly's curiosity anew and, when the next

time came, she did everything as usual, but, instead of going to bed,

hid behind the kitchen clock. Punctually as the clock struck twelve, out

popped from behind a big stone in the chimney-place a queer little dwarf

dressed all in red. Apparently he suspected something, for he sniffed

and peered into the darkness of the kitchen. Molly held her breath

through fear, and the dwarf proceeded to blow up the fire and warm

himself before sitting down to supper. Then, uncovering his cup and

platter, and finding that all was to his taste, he smacked his lips, and

made an excellent repast. When it was over, he whipped out of his bag

some shoemaker's tools, and went to work to patch and mend the shoes,

with twinkling fingers. In an hour's time all was finished and, after

putting the room to rights, the dwarf took his leave.



Molly told nobody that she had seen the veritable Leperhaun, the famous

shoemaking fairy; but the next month she happened to be in an ill humor

and hungry; so, without stopping to think of the consequences, she ate

his supper herself--leaving upon the platter only a heap of potato-skins

and the bones of the well-picked herrings.



That night, while all the world was asleep, in came the Leperhaun and,

finding the trick that had been played on him, flew into a terrible

rage, scattered the boots and shoes over the floor, broke the crockery

and, seizing a broom, swept all the ashes out upon the kitchen floor.

Molly, who was watching, ran up to the garret and, jumping into bed,

pulled the clothes over her head in a cold perspiration with terror. But

hark! on the steps outside came the pit-pat of little feet. In rushed

the offended house-fairy. He seized Molly by the hair of her head, and

dragged her down the stairs, and over the flags of the yard, saying,



"Molly Jones! Molly Jones!

Potato-skins and herring-bones!

I'll break your bones upon the stones,

Molly Jones, oh! Molly Jones!"



In vain Molly cried for mercy. The farmer and his sons were fast asleep,

and not a soul heard her. All night long the Leperhaun dragged her

about; and when the cock crowed he vanished, leaving her bruised and

sore upon the threshold of the door. More dead than alive, Molly crawled

up to her bed, where she lay black and blue for many a day.



The farmer, suspecting what lesson had been taught her, said nothing;

and we may be sure that, when the next time came for the visit of the

Leperhaun, the little red dwarf had no fault to find with Molly.