There was one time a poor widow woman he name of Cathleen the Hollow, for her house was down in a dip of the ground. She had two fine beautiful sons, Shan the Hollow and Hughie Cathleen. Shan was a dancer could step on a plate and not put a break in the delf; and Hughie could sing every ballad and song was ever heard tell of at all.

They were wild daring lads, too, the way there was great talk of them in the countryside. And the lamentations of the youth of the world were more nor a fright when news came round to the neighbours that Hughie was dead.

He lay down of a Friday night, and he [146]in the best of health, on the Saturday morning the brother went to rouse him, and found him perished dead.

Well there was a most elegant wake, not a one in those parts but paid respect to the corpse. And there wasn’t the least suspicion but that Hughie come by his death of some natural cause.

It was maybe a fortnight after the burying that the sleep quit Shan the Hollow entirely. If evenly he began for to doze in his bed he’d be roused up again by a rap on the door—but when he stepped out there was no person visible there.

“Oh mother,” says he, “I’m thinking poor Hughie is walking the world.”

“He is not,” says she. “For he was a decent lad would find peace in the grave. But there is some person making free with this house, for not a day goes by but I miss some article of food.”

Shan let it be, but his mind was uneasy for Hugh. And not a long after he heard a voice go past in the night, and it singing a beautiful song. He rose and he went to the door.

“Oh Hughie,” says he, “is that your spirit travelling the earth?” [147]

“It’s myself is walking the world, and I not buried at all,” says the voice. “The Good People have me away, and the corpse was an old image cut from bog stick that they left in my bed to deceive you.”

“Then it’s yourself is using the food from this house, my poor boy?” says Shan.

“Aye, indeed,” says the voice, “and sometimes it’s little I find. It does be hard on me to refuse the noble refreshment the fairies set out, but if I’d eat of the like I could never escape from their power. Do you tell herself to leave me a mug of sweet milk and a morsel of bread on the sill of the window, to keep me from hungering more.”

“You’ll have the best in the house left ready against you come,” says Shan. “But will you tell me what way am I to contrive a rescue?”

“It’s easy enough,” says the voice. “But I’m diverting myself with the fairies, and I’ll not be coming home for a while. They took me out oversea to America and showed me the wonders are there. Sure maybe it’s in France I’ll be at the dawning of day!”

“I’d liefer sit by our own fireside than travel the realms of the world with their like,” [148]says Shan. “............