FAIRY LEGENDS.
               

  
                       THE PHOOKA.




"Ne let house fires, nor lightnings helpless harms,
 Ne  let the Pouke, nor other evil spright,
 Ne  let mischievous witches with their charms,
 Ne  let hobgoblins, names whose sense we see not,
                   Fray us with things that be not."
                                                       SPENSER.

 
             LEGENDS OF THE PHOOKA.


                   THE SPIRIT HORSE.

                               XIV.

The history of Morty Sullivan ought to be a
warning to all young men to stay at home, and to
live decently and soberly if they can, and not to
go roving about the world. Morty, when he had
just turned of fourteen, ran away from his father
and mother, who were a mighty respectable old
couple, and many and many a tear they shed on
his account.  It is said they both died heart
broken for his loss: all they ever learned about
him was that he went on board of a ship bound
to America.
     Thirty years after the old couple had been laid
peacefully in their graves, there came a stranger
to Beerhaven enquiring after them -- it was their
son Morty; and, to speak the truth of him, his
heart did seem full of sorrow when he heard that
his parents were dead and gone ; --but what else
could he expect to hear? Repentance generally
comes when it is too late.
     Morty Sullivan, however, as an atonement for
his sins, was recommended to perform a pilgrim-



age to the blessed chapel of Saint Gobnate, which
is in a wild place called Ballyvourney.
     This he readily undertook; and willing to lose
no time, commenced his journey the same after-
noon. He had not proceeded many miles before
the evening came on: there was no moon, and
the starlight was obscured by a thick fog, which
ascended from the valleys. His way was through
a mountainous country, with many cross-paths
by-ways, so that it was difficult for a stranger
like Morty to travel without a guide. He was
anxious to reach his destination, and exerted
himself to do so ; but the fog grew thicker and
thicker, and at last he became doubtful if the
track he was in led to the blessed chapel of Saint
Gobnate.  But seeing a light which he imagined
not to be far off, he went towards it, and when he
thought himself close to it the light suddenly 
seemed at a great distance, twinkling dimly
through the fog.  Though Morty felt some sur-
prise at this, he was not disheartened, for he
thought that it was a light sent by the holy Saint
Gobnate to guide his feet through the mountains
to her chapel.
     And thus did he travel for many a mile, con-
tinually, as he believed, approaching the light
which would suddenly start off to a great distance.
At length he came so close as to perceive that
the light came from a fire; seated beside which
he plainly saw an old woman ; --then, indeed, his
faith was a little shaken, and much did he wonder
that both the fire and the old woman should travel
before him, so many weary miles, and over such
uneven roads.



     "In the holy names of the pious Gobnate, and
of her preceptor Saint Abban," said Morty, "how
can that burning fire move on so fast before me,
and who can that old woman be sitting beside the
moving fire ?"
     These words had no sooner passed Morty's lips
than he found himself, without taking another
step, close to this wonderful fire, beside which
the old woman was sitting munching her supper.
With every wag of the old woman's jaw her eyes
would roll fiercely upon Morty, as if she was
angry at being disturbed; and he saw with more
astonishment than ever that her eyes were neither
black, nor blue, nor gray, nor hazel, like the human
eye, but of a wild red colour, like the eye of a
ferret. If before he wondered at the fire, much
greater was his wonder at the old woman's ap-
pearance; and stout-hearted as he was, he could
not but look upon her with fear -- judging, and
judging rightly, that it was for no good purpose
her supping in so unfrequented a place, and at so
late an hour, for it was near midnight. She said
not one word, but munched and munched away,
while Morty looked at her in silence. --" What's
your name?" at last demanded the old hag, a
sulphureous puff coming out of her mouth, her
nostrils distending, and her eyes growing redder
than ever, when she had finished her question.
     Plucking up all his courage, "Morty Sullivan,"
replied he, "at your service;" meaning the latter
words only in civility.
     "Ubbubbo !" said the old woman, "we'll soon
see that ; " and the red fire of her eyes turned
into a pale green colour. Bold and fearless as



Morty was, yet much did he tremble at hearing
this dreadful exclamation: he would have fallen
down on his knees and prayed to Saint Gobnate,
or any other saint, for he was not particular ; but
he was so petrified with horror, that he could not
move in the slightest way, much less go down on
his knees.
     "Take hold of my hand, Morty," said the old
woman: " I'll give you a horse to ride that will
soon carry you to your journey's end." So saying,
she led the way, the fire going before them;-- it
is beyond mortal knowledge to say how, but on it
went, shooting out bright tongues of flame, and
flickering fiercely.
     Presently they came to a natural cavern in the
side of the mountain, and the old hag called aloud
in a most discordant voice for her horse  !  In a
moment a jet-black steed started from its gloomy
stable, the rocky floor whereof rung with a se-
pulchral echo to the clanging hoofs.
     "Mount, Morty, mount!" cried she, seizing
him with supernatural strength, and forcing him
upon the back of the horse. Morty finding human
power of no avail, muttered, " O that I had
spurs !" and tried to grasp the horse's mane ; but
he caught at a shadow ;  it nevertheless bore
him up and bounded forward with him, now
springing down a fearful precipice, now clearing
the rugged bed of a torrent, and rushing like the
dark midnight storm through the mountains.
     The following morning Morty Sullivan was dis-
covered by some pilgrims (who came that way
after taking their rounds at Gougane Barra) lying
on the flat of his back, under a steep cliff, down




which he had been flung by the Phooka. Morty
was severely bruised by the fall, and he is said to
have sworn on the spot, by the hand of O'Sullivan
(and that is no small oath),(1) never again to take
a full quart bottle of whisky with him on a pil-
grimage. 

       "Nulla manus,
       Tam liberalis
       Atque generalis
       Atque universalis
       Quam Sullivanis."