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Penelope's Irish Experiences-Part26_Kate Douglas Wiggin(1856-1923)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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As quick as thought I seized the elf.

"Your fairy purse!" I cried.



"The purse!" he said--"'tis in her hand--

That lady at your side."



I turned to look: the elf was off.

Then what was I to do?



O, I laughed to think what a fool I'd been;

And the fairy was laughing too!'



I cannot communicate any idea of the rollicking gaiety and quaint

charm Barney gave to the tune, nor the light-hearted, irresistible



chuckle with which he rendered the last two lines, giving a snap of

his whip as accent to the long 'O':-



'O, I laughed to think what a fool I'd been;

And the fairy was laughing too!'



After he had sung it twice through, Benella took my guitar from its

case for me, and we sang it after him, again and again; so it was in



happy fashion that we at least approached Ballyrossan, where we bade

Barney O'Mara a cordialfarewell, paying him four shillings over his



fare, which was cheap indeed for the song.

As we saw him vanish slowly up the road, ragged himself, the car and



harness almost ready to drop to pieces, the mare, I am sure, in the

last week of her existence, we were glad that he had his Celtic



fancy to enliven his life a bit,--that fancy which seems a

providential reaction against the cruel despotisms of fact.



Chapter XXV. The wee folk.

'There sings a bonnie linnet



Up the heather glen;

The voice has magic in it



Too sweet for mortal men!

Sing O, the bloomingheather,



O, the heather glen!

Where fairest fairies gather



To lure in mortal men.'

Carrig-a-fooka Inn, near Knockma,



On the shores of Lough Corrib.

A modern Irish poet* says something that Francesca has quoted to



Ronald in her letter to-day, and we await from Scotland his

confirmation or denial. He accuses the Scots of having discovered



the fairies to be pagan and wicked, and of denouncing them from the

pulpits, whereas Irish priests discuss with them the state of their



souls; or at least they did, until it was decided that they had

none, but would dry up like so much bright vapour at the last day.



It was more in sadness than in anger that the priests announced this

fiat; for Irish sprites and goblins do gay, graceful, and humorous



things, for the most part, tricksy sins, not deserving annihilation,

whereas Scottish fays are sometimes malevolent,--or so says the



Irish poet.

* W. B. Yeats.



This is very sad, no doubt, but it does not begin to be as sad as

having no fairies at all. There must have been a few in England in



Shakespeare's time, or he could never have written The Tempest or

the Midsummer Night's Dream; but where have they vanished?



As for us in America, I fear that we never have had any 'wee folk.'

The Indians had their woodland spirits, spirits of rocks, trees,



mountains, star and moon maidens; the negroes had their enchanted

animals and conjure men; but as for real wee folk, either they were



not indigenous to the soil or else we unconsciously drove them away.

Yet we had facilities to offer! The columbines, harebells, and



fringed gentians would have been just as cosy and secluded places to

live in as the Irish foxgloves, which are simply running over with



fairies. Perhaps they wouldn't have liked our cold winters; still

it must have been something more than climate, and I am afraid I



know the reason well--we are too sensible; and if there is anything

a fairy detests, it is common-sense. We are too rich, also; and a



second thing that a fairy abhors is the chink of dollars. Perhaps,

when I am again enjoying the advantages brought about by sound



money, commercialprosperity, and a magnificentsystem of public

education, I shall feel differently about it; but for the moment I



am just a bit embarrassed and crestfallen to belong to a nation

absolutely shunned by the fairies. If they had only settled among



us like other colonists, shaped us to their ends as far as they

could, and, when they couldn't, conformed themselves to ours, there



might have been, by this time, fairy trusts stretching out benign

arms all over the continent.



Of course it is an age of incredulity, but Salemina, Francesca, and




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