 My last visit is with an old man in a sleepy little village. Rumor has it that Mr. Donald O'Neary was a poor vagabond as little as two months ago. Today, however, he is one of the wealthiest farmers in the region. I've agreed to meet him in a local pub to discuss his meteoric rise in station. "Well, I don't see nothin' unusual about a man who accepts the gifts the Good Lord has chosen to give him," Mr. O'Neary said as he smiled and leaned back in his chair. "'Twas simple providence and nothing more." "Providence, Mr. O'Neary? Can you tell me what happened to your neighbors, Mr. Hudden and Mr. Dudden, who were until recently very well off - yet neither man has been seen in town nor pub for weeks?" O'Neary smiled at me over his pipe. "Well, now. If Hudden and Dudden had used their wits instead of their greed, they'd be right here today. It was themselves what did 'em in. Blinded by greed at every turn, they were. Didn't need nary a suggestion and they were off chasing the next fat purse." "So you do know what happened to them?" "I know what I seen, and that's all I know. 'Twas not so long ago those black-hearted men killed my only cow for no reason I can guess. Of course, it was a blow to me, but I gathered my wits and hid some pennies in the old cow's worthless hide. That pubkeeper's eyes nearly popped right out of his head when he seen them pennies shake outta that hide. I couldn't help it if the greedy man insisted on buyin' the skin from me on the spot - and for no less than its weight in gold! Wouldn't you guess that the very next day Hudden and Dudden were in town trying to claim gold coin for the worthless pelts of all their cattle? Seems the pubkeeper was none too pleased and kicked 'em all the way back to their farms." O'Neary paused and took a long pull from his ale, then leaned forward. "Now of course the boys needed to take it out on someone, so they grabbed me and loaded me into a sack. I could hear 'em talkin' on about the Brown Lake of the Bog and it wasn't hard to imagine it was me that would be sinkin' in the mire. Haulin' my carcass around is thirsty work, though, so they stopped into this very pub on their way. Left me all tied up and heaped in a corner outside while they refreshed themselves. I was left for dead, and sure. So it occurred to me that a sack of potatoes wouldn't be expected to talk, and there were many souls hanging about the pub that day. I started to holler out 'I won't have her' as loud as I could. Before I knew what was what a young farmer had untied my sack and crawled into it himself! Could be he decided the woman I denied would be just the right one for himself. He was so quick to swap me places that he clean forgot about the herd of cattle he left standin' in the road, chewin' their cud. Bein' a kindly man, I took the animals under me own care 'till the farmer should need 'em again." The rogue winked at me over his pipe, then paused to relight it. He closed his eyes for a moment and savored the fresh pipe, then continued his story. "When the boys returned from their journey, they nearly fell over to see me sitting there pretty as you please. The sack they had seen fly into the Brown Lake, so I was a spectre to their muddled minds. The fine cattle that I had saved when the farmer abandoned them were grazing all around, and Hudden and Dudden were distracted by the herd of fine beasts. It seemed no harm to me to string 'em along a bit since they had meant to do me in, so I told 'em the cattle was fresh from heaven and as many as I could bring along. Little did I expect the boys to get excited and demand to know how they was to get their own share. I regarded them a moment, then let 'em have it. At the bottom of Brown Lake you'll find all you deserve and more is what I said. Off they run, pell mell, fighting one another to be in the lead and kickin' up a ruckus to frighten my cattle 'til they disappeared over the hill. And that's the last I've seen of 'em." O'Neary raised his pint in a toast toward me and laughed. "Good riddance, I say!" This reporter must admit she couldn't agree more with the sentiment and settled in for an evening of conversation with the clever Irishman. This tour of old Ireland has been filled with magic and mayhem and is one that I can say I'll never forget. |
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| OU Home
| Cover Page | Introduction | County
Leinster | Haunted
Cottage | Boliaun
Field | Donald O'Neary |
| Image: Old Man and a Pipe Image Source: mricon's Flickr |
| Book
Title: Celtic Fairy Tales Book Author: Joseph Jacobs Year Published: 1892 Web Source: Celtic Fairy Tales |
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Author’s note: I finished my storybook with my favorite
story of the four. There is so much that happens in this little tale, I
hope it makes sense and that Donald's cleverness comes through in this
retelling. The original story was written in a more straightforward
manner and told each part one at a time in order. Hudden and Dudden
were rascals who always disliked Donald, even when he didn't have
anything but an old cow. I appreciate the way he escaped from their
evil plots and always came out wealthier in the end. The fact that he
persuaded them to jump into the lake and drown in the end of the story
simply proves the moral that their greed was more powerful than their
intelligence. I let Donald tell the story himself, so of
course he dissembled and made it seem that he was the only rational and
innocent party while those around him behaved strangely. He doesn't
admit that he actually convinced the farmer to get into his sack
through a promise that he would be married to a wealthy princess. Good
Donald leaves out the more sordid details and pretties up his role in
this story quite nicely.
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