vaders to land without opposition, and then a parley ensued. They demanded of the new comers their objects and conditions, and received an answer similar to that given by themselves to the poor Firbolgs some generations back. They rejoined that it was a most unhandsome thing to take people by surprise in that fashion; but if they only re-embarked, and withdrew nine waves from the land, they would then receive them in a manner meet for warlike visitors, and their own relations in the twentieth degree. The simple Milesians consented; and by the time that the nine waves were passed, a druidic fog had fallen between them and the shore. Occasionally a luminous rift was made in this dark curtain, and the island was seen in the guise of the back of a black swine, weltering on the waters, and shooting up huge spear-like bristles. A mighty storm next swept the vessels round the rocky shores. Some effected a landing in Kerry, others in Louth, and the rest on the bleak western coast. The wise and valiant Danaans at last found their spells and their arms too weak before the resistless might of the Milesians, and a new dynasty began.

THE CHILDREN OF LIR.

LIR, though the father of a demi-god, was not able to secure domestic comfort. Having lost his beloved wife, he sought relief in travel; and being on a visit with Bogha Derg, King of Conacht, he was induced to enter on the married state again, taking the beauteous and virtuous Princess Aebh (Eve) as his new partner. She bore him twins, Fionula (Fair-shoulder), and Aodh (Hugh), and at a second birth, Fiachra and Conn. This was followed by her death; and after some time the bereaved widower again sought the Court of his father-in-law. He was there tempted to commit matrimony again, hoping that the sister of his lamented wife, the Princess Aoifé, would do the duty of an aunt, at least, to his orphans. For a year there was nothing to be complained of, but then she began to be jealous of the tenderness and attention ever exhibited by Lir to the Princess Fionula, and her brothers. From mere despite she took to her bed, and there remained a year. At last a skilful but wicked Druid

visited her, extracted her heart's secret, and tendered his advice. Rising from her bed, she arrayed herself in her best, and taking the children with her, got up into her chariot, and set out for her father's court, near Loch Derg, on the Shannon. On the route she urged her charioteer to destroy the children; but he was deaf to her entreaties, and she was obliged to enact the part of executioner herself. Fionula, with a girl's acuteness, sorely distrusted her stepmother; and when they arrived at the edge of a lake, and she and her brothers were commanded to get down and bathe, she refused in the most decided manner for them and herself. However, Aoifé, with assistance from her retinue, forced them into the water, and then and there, by a stroke on the head of each with a wand, the wicked Druid's gift, she changed them into four beautiful

swans.

On arriving at her father's palace, he made inquiry about his grandchildren, and suspecting that her representation of their being in health at home, was not true, he cast her into a druidic sleep, and made her reveal her wickedness. Restoring her to her ordinary state, be bitterly reproached her in the presence of the Court, changed her into a grey vulture by a stroke of his wand of power, and doomed her to live in the cold, and windy, and sleety air, while time was to endure.

All repaired to the lake where the enchantment was effected, and were kept in a state of delight listening to the magic songs of the birds. The chariots stood by the shore, and the steeds consumed their provender, and the knights and ladies still listened entranced, night and day, until by the power of Aoife's words, they were obliged to rise in the air, and direct their flight to Loch Derg. There through the mildness of summer, and the harsh winds and ice of winter, they abode three hundred years. Fionula pressing her dejected and shivering brothers to her side, covering them with her wings, and cheering them with her grandfather's prophecythat when men with shaved heads came over the sea, set up their tables in the east ends of their houses, and rung their bells, the first sound would again restore their human form.

Three hundred years being gone,

they once more were obliged to take their flight to the sea of Moyle, between Erinn and Alba, and there for three hundred years more, endured unspeakable sufferings. In their flight they passed over the pleasant rath where their childhood had been spent, and now it was but a grasscovered mound, with a slimy ditch at its base. The last three hundred years of their sad pilgrimage were passed on the wild waves of the great western sea near Irrus Domnann (Erris). The bell that rung in the first Mass celebrated on Inis na Gluaire (Isle of Glory), restored them to their human shapes; but they were now emaciated and decrepit, and only waited for baptism, to flee away to rest eternal.*

Before we lose sight of the Danaans we must notice the Glas Gaibhne, the grey cow of the smith, Lon Mac Liomtha, the Danaan, the first who forged iron swords in Ireland.+ She supplied him and his family and servants with abundance of milk and butter, and was well guarded during the day. At night she retired to the neighbouring rocks; and as her hoofs were set on her feet with the hollow in front, the stupid cow-stealers who wished to make a prize of her, never could find out her byre. However, the Fomorian chief of Torry Island, Balor Balc, got possession of her at last.

She lived for centuries, for we find her affording nourishment to Fion Mac Cumhail and his warriors in the latter part of the third century.

Fogs and magic wands were the favourite instruments used by the Druids. Frequently, when a Christian and pagan army were on the point of meeting in "battle and conflict," the Druid enveloped his party in mist, and they would have their own way with their foes, only that the other side were equally provident, and the chaunt of hymns and the ringing of bells converted the thick fog into the thinnest possible air.

The Druids of Conaght at the instigation of their dark master, would occasionally bring the curse of drunkenness on all the fighting men of Ulster; and adding insult to injury, send the pangs of women on them when particularly enraged. Indeed, as Gaul looked across to Britain for the perverse knowledge of occult mysteries, and as on the continent of Britain they, too, kept an eye on the little islet of Anglesea, perhaps these islanders paid reverence to their next neighbours in Erin, among whom the deepest dyed in the black art were the sages west of the Sionan.

The claidhim (glaive) of the Celtic curaidh was held by its master in as much esteem as the enchanted weapons of the Scandinavian warriors by them. When exhibiting his trophies on occasions of triumph, he sat with his naked blade laid across his thighs; and if any spurious specimen was produced, the sword was expected to make a motion as if it designed to cut him across.

THE ENCHANTMENT OF CUCHULLAIN.

THIS guardian hound of Ulster was once bewitched by a pair of women of the Sidhe. They had appeared on a lake adjoining his palace in the plain of Louth, as two beautiful swans yoked to each other by a golden chain; and he was so-ill advised as to direct his charioteer, Lae, to assail them with sling and spear. They could not be struck, and the disappointed champion went away sadly, set his back against a rock, and a magnetic or druidic sleep fell on him. While under its influence, two women-one with a green, and the other with a red cloak-approached, treacherously smiled on him, and then chastised him with horse-switches till he was nearly dead.

So the warrior lay on his bed in a state of lethargy for a long year; and at its close, as Fergus was sitting be

Lon's son.

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tween him and the wall, Conal Kearnach between him and the door, Luacha holding him up (in the original between him and the pillow"), a person appeared before the company and ordered the sick man to go to the same rock where he had been enchanted, and it would be all well with him. On arriving there he was accosted by one of his fair executioners, who explained that all had been done in love and kindness; that the beautiful princess Fand, who had been deserted by Mananan Mac Lir, had conceived a violent affection for him, and would have him come to her in the beautiful island of the Sidhé.

So to this fairy island, Inis Labraidh, Cuchullain was borne, and there he lived forgetful of his chaste and loyal wife, the fair Eimer. However, this last-named lady was not resigned to her bereavement. She heard that the Fairy princess and her infatuated mortal lover were entertaining themselves over their winecups and chess-board at Ibar Kian Trachta (Newry), and thither she came with fifty of her ladies, each provided with a deadly skean, to slay Fand, or send her back alone to Inis Labraidh (pr. Lavray). Before using the weapons, however, she appealed to the good feelings of the woman in power; and, strange to tell, so wrought on her that she renounced the faithless husband, and was in some degree recompensed by the sight of her deathless lover, Mananan coming invisible to the mortal eyes present, to bear her away in his resplendent chariot.

Cuchullain was as furious at his loss as ever Achilles when he lay in his galley and bewailed Briseis. The poets and Druids of Connor's Court, surrounded him, and after some attempts on his part to kill a few of them, they strengthened their spells and laid hold on his arms and legs. This appeared to be the essential portion of the charm: he became powerless and asked for a drink. They reached him the goblet of oblivion, and when he took it from his mouth, he had no more recollection of Fand than if he had never seen or heard of her. Eimer then put the chalice to

her lips, and all memory of Cuchullain's falsehood disappeared from her mind.

From the above story, translated and edited by the late Eugene Curry, we extract the magic process of divination used in the choice of a king when ordinary means were found insufficient :

"Thus was that bull-feast prepared, namely, a white bull was killed, and one broth, and he slept under that meal; and man ate enough of his flesh and of his a charm of truth was pronounced on him by four Druids; and he saw in a dream the shape of the man who should be made king there; and his form, and his description, and the sort of work that he was engaged in.

The man screamed out of his

sleep, and described what he saw to the kings, namely, a young, noble, strong man,

ting over the pillow of a sick man in Emania (royal fortress near Armagh)."

with two red streaks round him, and he sit

The terrible superstition of the Lianan Shia (Sidhe or Sighe) dates, as we here find, from an early period. King Connor and his noble "Dog* of Ulster," lived in the very commencement of the Christian era. It was the fate of those mortals who loved, and were beloved by women of the Sidhe, or hill-people-fairies, that they could not be freed from the connexion unless with the entire consent of their wayward mistresses. In further illustration of the system, we subjoin the very old legend of

IOLLANN EACHTACH AND THE LIANAN. IOLLANN was a friend of Fion, and was willing to become more intimately connected with him by marrying his aunt Tuirreann. It had come to Fion's ears that Iollann was already provided with a sighe-love, so he secured the fate of his aunt in this wise. He put her hand into that of Oisin, who intrusted her to Caoilte, who intrusted her to Mac Luacha, &c.; and thus she passed under the guardianship of Diarmaid the Brown, Goll Mac Morna, another Luacha, and so into the arms of Iollann. Her married life was happy for a while, but it did not please the Sighe, Uchtdealbh (Fair Bosom), that

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her mortal lover should be happy in any society but her own. So she paid her a visit in the absence of her husband, and invited her out as she wished to give her an important message from Fion, relative to a feast he wanted to have prepared. Being safe from the eyes of the household, she muttered some words, and drawing a druidic wand from under her mantle, she struck her with it, and changed her into the most beautiful stag-hound that eyes ever beheld. She then took her to the house of Feargus Fionnliath, on the shore of the bay of Galway. Iollann, hearing on his return that his wife had gone out with a strange woman, and had not since been seen, guessed that Fair-Bosom had disposed of her in some way, and began to tremble for the result. It was not long arriving. Fion missing his aunt, demanded her safe in life and limb at the hands of Oisin, who demanded her from Caoilté, who demanded her from Mac Luacha, &c., till Luacha the second demanded from Iollann, the person of his wife in good health, or his own head. Iollann acknowledged the justice of the request, and merely demanded a few days' grace.

He at once set forward to the palace-cavern of his sighe, and obtained his wish, but on the pure condition of being faithful to her till his death, and never more seeking mortal mistress or wife. She then sought out Tuirrean, and bringing her to some distance from Fergus's rath, restored her to her pristine shape, and then delivered her over to her nephew. Luacha the second, the last of the sureties, represented to the great chief, that the least recompense he could make him for the terror he had experienced, was the hand of the restored beauty, and Fion gave his gracious consent to this second espousals of his aunt.

Some circumstances of a strange character, which want of room and other considerations prevent us quoting from the original, mark this tale, in its plot and circumstances, as the work of a genuine Pagan inventor.

In a late paper we quoted at full length a receipt for obtaining a spirit of poetic prophecy. The clairvoyance, if it can be so called, obtained by a heavy meal of bull's flesh and broth, will be found a few pages back. The

hill, river, and wood spirits, of course, helped their worshippers to a foreknowledge of future events, and animals reverenced in particular localities gave oracular answers; the cat of Cruachan is an instance. Mananan Mac Lir, so often mentioned, delighted in mystifying his mortal adorers, subjecting them to trials, and then rewarding their virtuous acts. One legend connected with his beneficent character strikingly resembles the story in "Zadig," and the subject of Parnell's "Hermit."

The ancient, as well as the modern Irish were very disagreeably affected by severe weather. They disliked the east wind so much as to call it the Druidic Red Wind, and gave it fetich worship. Here is a quatrain on the subject from an old poem :

"The murmuring of the Red Wind from the East,

Is heard in its course by the strong as well as the weak.

A wind that blasts the bottom of the

But we hear much less of the baneful than the benign influences among our Pagan forefathers. The beneficent Danaan sage, Dagdae, had for son Aongus, who, long after his mortal career, dwelt in the mound by the Boyne, and showered his benefits on good, kind people. It was in this subterraneous fort that the father of Diarmaid, having accidentally killed the son of a Druid, the enraged and sorrowful father struck the body of his child just as life was departing, and changed him into the fatal "green cropped boar," which afterwards caused the death of the peerless hero the paragon of all the warriors of Fionn's Court.

Mananan was so reverenced in Man, to which island he gave his name, that the extinction of the worship paid to him there was the greatest difficulty experienced by St. Patrick and his successors.

In a parting glance at ancient divination, we cannot pass over the peculiar privilege enjoyed by Fionn."

Finn Eges, the Druid, remained seven years at a ford on the Boyne, watching for the Salmon of Knowledge, which whoever ate would be gifted with the most ample prescience. Among his many pupils was Fion,

then a young man, and their chief business was to watch for this salmon. At last it was taken, fried by Fion, and carried to his master. "Hast thou tasted of this fish ?” "No, but a blister having arisen on its side, I pressed my thumb on it, and feeling a burning smart, I clapped it in my mouth." "You may take all away, and feed on it. You have got the gift which I have watched for these seven years past. When you wish to know what is passing in any part of Erinn, or to be acquainted with any future event, apply your thumb to your tongue."

In the Northern Volsung tale, the great original of the "Nibelungen Lied," Regin employs Sigurd to roast the dragon's heart, and bring it to him. During the operation he applies his finger to the article to try if it be done. The same thing takes place as in the Irish tale, and Sigurd gets all knowledge, and understands the language of birds. It is our inten

tion to make our readers acquainted with such other particulars of the magic rites of the Irish Druids as have been preserved by our old writers.

It would be interesting to trace the resemblances between the superstitions and legends of the Celts of Ireland and the West Highlands, with those of the old Bretons, and Germans, and Scandinavians. As all are offshoots of the great Aryan family, they must possess modifications of the same primitive beliefs and usages, varied by the influence of climate and the natural features of the land occupied by each people, and the remarkable circumstances in their separate histories. In time, novelties to some extent would be introduced; but still many of the long-cherished myths, and superstitions, and practices would be found to claim a common origin. We intend to devote a future paper to the elucidation of this subject.

FEW persons who have not essayed in their day to collect the lives of actors, and of those whose career has been essentially connected with the stage, have any adequate notion of the vastness of the contribution which English literature owes to this department of biography and narrative. Unequal, desultory, and often not altogether reliable, as such memoirs are, they are yet, on the whole, the most fascinating, and by no means the least instructive reading in which an idle man can engage. The Gipsy life, the wandering habits, the gaiety and privations, the deeply tragic and sometimes splendid vicissitudes of the actor's life, give to the story something of the interest of the desultory and satiric old Spanish romance; and its connexion with literature and men of letters, and sometimes, in the char

acter of patrons, with men of public celebrity, of a different kind, and, above all, their unconsciously minute and spirited painting of contemporary manners, give to these generally careless and often brilliant records, a very special and permanent value. Nothing can be more capricious than the selection of the subjects of this kind of biography: while such men as Betterton and Sheridan are undistinguished by a memoir, we have an almost illimitable harvest of minor biographies. To these we are far from objecting-quite the reverse; but the omissions cause bleak and awful chasms in the series, such as no after industry and enthusiasm can supply.

But when this immense collection of biographical lore has been scanned and sifted, the labour of a writer in Doctor Doran's track is but begun;