"Whisht, whisht!" said she, looking fearfully around; then, knitting her brows, she gave me an admonitory look, and put her finger on her lip, in token of silence, and then coming sufficiently near me to make herself audible in a whisper, she said, "Never speak ill, your honour, of the good people--beyant all, in sitch a place this--for it's in the likes they always keep; and one doesn't know who may be listenin'. God keep uz! But look, sir, look!" and she pointed to the stream--" there she is."
"Who--what?" said I.
"The throut, sir."
I immediately perceived the fish in question, perfectly a trout in shape, but in colour a creamy white, heading up the stream, and seeming to keep constantly within the region of the enlightened part of it.
"There it is, in that very spot evermore," continued my guide, "and never anywhere else."
"The poor fish, I suppose, likes to swim in the light," said I.
"Oh, no, sir," said she, shaking her head significantly, "the people here has a mighty owld story about that throut"
"Let me bear it, and you will oblige me."
"Och! it's only laughin' at me you'd be, and call me an ould fool, as the misthiss beyant in the big house often did afore, when she first kem among us--but she knows the differ now."
"Indeed I shall not laugh at your story," said I, "but on the contrary, shall thank you very much for your tale."
"Then sit down a minnit, sir," said she, throwing her apron upon the rock, and pointing to the seat, "and I'll tell you to the best of my knowledge." And seating herself on an adjacent patch of verdure, she began her legend.
"There was wanst upon a time, long ago, a beautiful young lady that lived in a castle up by the lake beyant, and they say she was promised to a king's son, and they wor to be married; when, all of a suddent, he was murthered, the crathur (Lord help us), and threwn into the lake abow, and so, of coorse, he couldn't keep his promise to the fair lady--and more's the pity.
"Well, the story goes that she went out iv her mind bekase av losin' the king's son; for she was tindher-hearted, God help her! like the rest iv us, and pined away after him, until, at last,no one about seen her, good or bad, and the story wint that the fairies took her away.
"Well, sir, in coorse o' time the white throut, God bless it! was seen in the sthrame beyant, and sure the people didn't know what to think av the crathur, seein' as how a white throut was never heerd av afore nor sence; and years upon years the throut was there, just where you seen it this blessed minnit, longer nor I can tell--aye, troth, and beyant the memory o' th' ouldest in the village.
"At last the people began to think it must be a fairy--for what else could it be?--and no hurt nor harm was iver put an the white throut, antil some wicked sinners of sojers kem to these parts, and laughed at all the people, and gibed and jeered them for thinkin' o' the likes; and one o' them in partic'lar (bad luck to him; God forgi' me for sayin' it!) swore he'd catch the throut and ate it for his dinner--the blackguard!
"Well, what would you think o' the villiany of the sojer?--Sure enough he cotch the throut; and away wid him home, and puts an the fryin'-pan, and into it he pitches the purty little thing. The throut squeeled all as one as a Christian crathur, and, my dear, you'd think the sojer id split his sides laughin'--for he was a harden'd villian; and when he thought one side was done, he turns it over to fry the other; and what would you think, but the divil a taste of a burn was an it at all at all; and sure the sojer thought it was a quare throut that couldn't be briled. 'But,' says he, 'I'll give it another turn, by-and-by '--little thinkin' what was in store for him--the haythen!
"Well, when he thought that side was done, he turns it again--and lo and behould you, the divil a taste more done that side was nor the other. 'Bad luck to me,' says the sojer, 'but that bates the world!' says he; 'but I'll thry you agin, my darlint,' says he, 'as cunnin' as you think yourself,'--and so, with that, he turns it over and over; but the divil a sign av the fire was an the purty throut. 'Well,' says the desperate villian (for sure, sir, only he was a desperate villian entirely, he might know he was doin' a wrong thing, seein' that all his endayvours was no good)--'well,' says he, 'my jolly little throut, maybe you're fried enough, though you don't seem over-well dress'd; but you may be better than you look, like a singed cat, and a tit-bit, afther all,' says he; and with that he ups with his knife and fork to taste a piece o' the throut--but, my jew'l, the minnit he puts his knife into the fish, there was a murthenin' screech, that you'd think the life id lave you if you heerd it, and away jumps the throut out av the fryin'-pan into the middle o' the flure; and an the spot where it fell, up riz a lovely lady--the beautifullest young crathur that eyes ever seen, dressed in white with a band o' goold in her hair, and a sthrame o' blood runnin' down her arm.
"Look where you cut me, you villian,' says she, and she held out her arm to him--and, my dear, he thought the sight id lave his eyes.
"Couldn't you lave me cool and comfortable in the river where you snared me, and not disturb me in my duty?' says she.
"Well, be thrimbled like a dog in a wet sack, and at last he stammered out somethin', and begged for his life, and ax'd her ladyship's pardin, and said he didn't know she was an duty, or he was too good a sojer not to know betther nor to meddle wid her.
"'I was on duty, then,' says the lady; 'I was watchin' for my thrue love, that is comin' by wather to me,' says she; 'an' if be comes while I am away, an' that I miss iv him, I'll turn you into a pinkeen, and I'll hunt you up and down for evermore, while grass grows or wather runs.'
"Well, the sojer thought the life id lave him at the thoughts iv his bein' turned into a pinkeen, and begged for mercy; and with that, says the lady:
"'Renounce your evil coorses,' says she, 'you villian, or you'll repint it too late; be a good man for the futhur, and go to your' duty reg'lar. And now,' says she, 'take me back, and put me into the river agin, where you found me.'
"'Oh, my lady,' says the sojer, 'how could I have the heart to drownd a beautiful lady like you?'
"But before he could say another word, the lady was vanished, and there he saw the little throut an the ground. Well, he put it an a clane plate, and away he run for the bare life, for fear her lover would come while she was away; and he run, and he run, ever till be came to the cave agin, and threw the throat into the river. The minnit he did, the wather was as red as blood for a little while, by raison av the cut, I suppose, until, the sthrame washed the stain away; and to this day there's a little red mark an the throut's side where it was cut.
"Well, sir, from that day out the sojer was an althered man, and reformed his way; and wint to his duty reg'lar, and fasted three times a week--though it was never fish he tuk an fastin' days; for afther the fright be got, fish id never rest an his stomach, God bless us!--savin' your presence. But anyhow, he was an althered man, as I said before; and in coorse o' time he left the army, and turned hermit at last; and they say he used to pray evermore for the sowl of the White Throut."
The Battle of the Berrins;
or,
The Double Funeral
I was sitting alone in the desolate churchyard of--, intent upon my "silent art," lifting up my eyes from my portfolio only to direct them to the interesting ruin I was sketching, when the deathlike stillness that prevailed was broken by a faint and wild sound, unlike anything I had ever heard in my life. I confess I was startled. I paused in my occupation, and listened in breathless expectation. Again this seemingly unearthly sound vibrated through the still air of evening, more audibly than at first, and partaking of the vibratory quality of' tone I have noticed in so great a degree as to resemble the remote sound of the ringing of many glasses crowded together.
I arose and looked around. No being was near me, and again this heart-chilling sound struck upon my ear, its wild and wailing