Adapted from the Irish of "An Seabhac" in "An Baile Seo \'Gainn-ne."

"Bad cess to it for tay," said Ned M\'Grane, as he came into the forge, wiping his lips after his evening meal, in which the much-abused beverage in question had been, and always was, a potent factor. "The people were healthier an\' hardier, an\' the country was better off when the good wholesome food was goin\' an\' there was little talk o\' tay. Now we can\'t do without it for more than half-a-day, bad cess to it!"

He took a piece of tobacco from his capacious vest pocket and proceeded to fill his pipe, while we eagerly and anxiously scanned his face in the hope of reading there indications that would lead us to expect a story, for we always knew by a close but seemingly careless scrutiny of Ned\'s face whether we might venture to suggest his drawing upon that wonderful store of yarns for the possession of which he was famous throughout the length and breadth of the three parishes.

"I wonder how was it people took to the tay at all at first," said Bartle Nolan, carelessly, as he fingered a couple of horse-shoe nails and looked thoughtfully away into the shadows; "you\'d think they were wise[Pg 79] enough in them times to know what was good for them."

It was a fine bait, that innocent remark of Bartle\'s, and we waited with drawn breath to see what its result would be on Ned.

"Well," said the latter, as he teased the tobacco between his fingers, while a far-away look that was hopeful came over his face and into his eyes, "there was many a reason, Bartle. The praties began to get bad, an\' bad seasons left the meal for the stirabout sour an\' heavy an\' ugly, an\' then people goin\' to Dublin an\' places like that began to get notions, an\' the women began to think they weren\'t able for the strong food an\' that tay would put more heart in them. But maybe the men, or most o\' them, were like Denis M\'Cann—God be good to him!—an\' took the tay because they couldn\'t stand the other thing any longer."

"Is it Denis o\' the Hill that died last year?" said Joe Clinton, his voice trembling with eagerness, and before Bartle Nolan could give us a warning sign four or five of us had blurted out:

"What about Denis, Ned?"

"The very man," said Ned, in reply to Joe\'s question, and apparently paying no attention to us. "It wasn\'t any wonder poor Denis took to the tay after all the heart-scald he got from the stirabout—not a wonder in the world."

We sat silent, hardly daring to breathe.

"When I was a gossoon about the size o\' Jimmy Tully there, in all the three parishes there wasn\'t a harder-workin\' family than the M\'Canns, an\' the best[Pg 80] woman in the barony was Peg M\'Cann herself. She was a good wife to Denis an\' a good mother to Patsy an\' Molly an\' Nell, an\' she never stopped workin\' from daylight till dark; but there was one thing Denis was always grumblin\' about, an\' that was the stirabout. Poor Peg, no matter how many warnin\'s or threats or reminders she got, could never think o\' puttin\' salt on the stirabout, an\' on that account there never came a mornin\' or a night—except once in a blue moon now an\' again when Peg \'d think o\' the salt—that there wasn\'t a shindy in the house over the same thing, an\' no amount o\' jawin\' an\' ragin\' an\' warnin\' from Denis could make poor Peg think o\' puttin\' salt in the pot every time she started to make the stirabout. An\' whenever a thing wasn\'t to anybody\'s likin\' from one end o\' the parish to the other end the word was \'That\'s like Denis McCann\'s stirabout.\'

"Well, everythin\' comes to an end some day or other, an\' Peg M\'Cann\'s stirabout pot got a rest at last. An\' this is the way it happened out.

"One day Denis an\' Patsy an\' the girshas were out in the long field plantin\' praties, an\' when it was comin\' on to the evenin\' time Peg took the stirabout pot an\' scoured it an\' wiped it an\' put it on the fire with water enough in it to make the stirabout. When the water came to the boil she put in the meal, an\' then for a wonder, whatever struck into her head, she put a good handful o\' salt in the pot, an\' says she to herself: \'He can\'t be sayin\' anythin\' about it to-night,\' says she.

"The stirabout was simmerin\' an\' singin\' away when Denis an\' the childre came home, an\' when Peg[Pg 81] saw them comin\' up the boreen she went out to the byre to milk the cow, an\' she was smilin\' to herself at the surprise Denis \'d get, an\' the quietness there \'d be in the house on account o\' the salt bein\' in the stirabout.

"Denis left Patsy an\' the girshas to take the harness off the jennet an\' put up the spades an\' shovels an\' things, an\' he went into the house himself with a couple o\' stone o\' the seed that was left over after the day\'s work. He spied the pot on the fire, an\' over he went to the salt-box an\' took up a good big fistful o\' the salt an\' put it in the stirabout, an\' gave it ............