When Ireland had kings of her own—when there was no such thing as a coat made of red cloth in the country—when there was plenty in men's houses, and peace and quietness at men's doors (and that is a long time since)—there lived, in a village not far from the great city of Lumneach,[7] two young men, cousins: one of them named Owney, a smart, kind-hearted, handsome youth, with limb of a delicate form, and a very good understanding. [152]His cousin's name was Owney too, and the neighbours christened him Owney-na-peak (Owney of the nose), on account of a long nose he had got—a thing so out of all proportion, that after looking at one side of his face, it was a smart morning's walk to get round the nose and take a view of the other (at least, so the people used to say). He was a stout, able-bodied fellow, as stupid as a beaten hound, and he was, moreover, a cruel tyrant to his young cousin, with whom he lived in a kind of partnership.  
Both of them were of a humble station. They were smiths—white-smiths—and they got a good deal of business to do from the lords of the court, and the knights, and all the grand people of the city. But one day young Owney was in town, he saw a great procession of lords, and ladies, and generals, and great people, among whom was the king's daughter of the court—and surely it is not possible for[153] the young rose itself to be so beautiful as she was. His heart fainted at her sight, and he went home desperately in love, and not at all disposed to business.
 
Money, he was told, was the surest way of getting acquainted with the king, and so he began saving until he had put together a few hogs,[8] but Owney-na-peak, finding where he had hid them, seized on the whole, as he used to do on all young Owney's earnings.
 
One evening young Owney's mother found herself about to die, so she called her son to her bedside and said to him: 'You have been a most dutiful good son, and 'tis proper you should be rewarded for it. Take this china cup to the fair,—there is a fairy gift upon it,—use your own wit, look about you, and let the highest bidder have it—and so, my white-headed boy,[9] God bless you!'
 
[154]
 
The young man drew the little bedcurtain down over his dead mother, and in a few days after, with a heavy heart, he took his china cup, and set off to the fair of Garryowen.
 
The place was merry enough. The field that is called Gallows Green now was covered with tents. There was plenty of wine (poteen not being known in these days, let alone parliament), a great many handsome girls, and 'tis unknown all the keoh that was with the boys and themselves. Poor Owney walked all the day through the fair, wishing to try his luck, but ashamed to offer his china cup among all the fine things that were there for sale. Evening was drawing on at last, and he was thinking of going home, when a strange man tapped him on the shoulder, and said: 'My good youth, I have been marking you through the fair the whole day, going about with that cup in your hand, speaking to nobody, and looking[155] as if you would be wanting something or another.'
 
'I'm for selling it,' said Owney.
 
'What is it you're for selling, you say?' said a second man, coming up, and looking at the cup.
 
'Why then,' said the first man, 'and what's that to you, for a prying meddler? what do you want to know what it is he's for selling?'
 
'Bad manners to you (and where's the use of my wishing you what you have already?), haven't I a right to ask the price of what's in the fair?'
 
'E'then, the knowledge o' the price is all you'll have for it,' says the first. 'Here, my lad, is a golden piece for your cup.'
 
'That cup shall never hold drink or diet in your house, please Heaven,' says the second; 'here's two gold pieces for the cup, lad.'
 
'Why then, see this now—if I was forced to fill it to the rim with gold before I could call it mine, you shall[156] never hold that cup between your fingers. Here, boy, do you mind me, give me that, once for all, and here's ten gold pieces for it, and say no more.'
 
'Ten gold pieces for a china cup!' said a great lord of the court, who just rode up at that minute, 'it must surely be a valuable article. Here, boy, here are twenty pieces for it, and give it to my servant.'
 
'Give it to mine,' cried another lord of the party, 'and here's my purse, where you will find ten more. And if any man offers another fraction for it to outbid that, I'll spit him on my sword like a snipe.'
 
'I outbid him,' said a fair young lady in a veil, by his side, flinging twenty golden pieces more on the ground.
 
There was no voice to outbid the lady, and young Owney, kneeling, gave the cup into her hands.
 
'Fifty gold pieces for a china cup,' said Owney to himself, as he plodded[157] on home, 'that was not worth two! Ah! mother, you knew that vanity had an open hand.'
 
But as he drew near home he determined to hide his money somewhere, knowing, as he well did, that his cousin would not leave him a single cross to bless himself with. So he dug a little pit, and buried all but two pieces, which he brought to the house. His cousin, knowing the business on which he had gone, laughed heartily when he saw him enter, and asked him what luck he had got with his punch-bowl.
 
'Not so bad, neither,' says Owney. 'Two pieces of gold is not a bad price for an article of old china.'
 
'Two gold pieces, Owney, honey! Erra, let us see 'em, maybe you would?' He took the cash from Owney's hand, and after opening his eyes in great astonishment at the sight of so much money, he put them into his pocket.
 
'Well, Owney, I'll keep them safe for you, in my pocket within. But[158] tell us, maybe you would, how come you to get such a mort o' money for an old cup o' painted chaney, that wasn't worth, maybe, a fi'penny bit?'
 
'To get into the heart o' the fair, then, free and easy, and to look about me, and to cry old china, and the first man that come up, he to ask me, what is it I'd be asking for the cup, and I to say out bold: "A hundred pieces of gold," and he to laugh hearty, and we to huxter together till he beat me down to two, and there's the whole way of it all.'
 
Owney-na-peak made as if he took no note of this, but next morning early he took an old china saucer himself had in his cupboard, and off he set, without saying a word to anybody, to the fair. You may easily imagine that it created no small surprise in the place when they heard a great big fellow with a china saucer in his hand crying out: 'A raal chaney saucer going for a hundred pieces of goold! raal chaney—who'll be buying?'[159]
 
'Erra, what's that you're saying, you great gomeril?' says a man, coming up to him, and looking first at the saucer and then in his face. 'Is it thinking anybody would go make a muthaun of himself to give the like for that saucer?' But Owney-na-peak had no answer to make, only to cry out: 'Raal chaney! one hundred pieces of goold!'
 
A crowd soon collected about him, and finding he would give no account of himself, they all fell upon him, beat him within an inch of his life, and after having satisfied themselves upon him, they went their way laughing and shouting. Towards sunset he got up, and crawled home as well as he could, without cup or money. As soon as Owney saw him, he helped him into the forge, looking very mournful, although, if the truth must be told, it was to revenge himself for former good deeds of his cousin that he set him about this foolish business.[160]
 
'Come here, Owney, eroo,' said his cousin, after he had fastened the forge door and heated two irons in the fire. 'You child of mischief!' said he, when he had caught him, 'you shall never see the fruits of your roguery again, for I will put out your eyes.' And so saying he snatched one of the red-hot irons from the fire.
 
It was all in vain for poor Owney to throw himself on his knees, and ask mercy, and beg and implore forgiveness; he was weak, and Owney-na-peak was strong; he held him fast, and burned out both his eyes. Then taking him, while he was yet fainting from the pain, upon his back, he carried him off to the bleak hill of Knockpatrick,[10] a great distance, and there laid him under a tombstone, and [161]went his ways. In a little time after, Owney came to himself.
 
'O sweet light of day! what is to become of me now?' thought the poor lad, as he lay on his back under the tomb. 'Is this to be the fruit of that unhappy present? Must I be dark for ever and ever? and am I never more to look upon that sweet countenance, that even in my blindness is not entirely shut out from me?' He would have said a great deal more in this way, and perhaps more pathetic still, but just then he heard a great mewing, as if all the cats in the world were coming up the hill together in one faction. He gathered himself up, and drew back under the stone, and remained quite still, expecting what would come next. In a very short time he heard all the cats purring and mewing about the yard, whisking over the tombstones, and playing all sorts of pranks among the graves. He felt the tails of one or two brush his nose; and[162] well for him it was that they did not discover him there, as he afterwards found. At last—
 
'Silence!' said one of the cats, and they were all as mute as so many mice in an instant. 'Now, all you cats of this great county, small and large, gray, red, yellow, black, brown, mottled, and white, attend to what I'm going to tell you in the name of your king and the master of all the cats. The sun is down, and the moon is up, and the night is silent, and no mortal hears us, and I may tell you a secret. You know the king of Munster's daughter?'
 
'O yes, to be sure, and why wouldn't we? Go on with your story,' said all the cats together.
 
'I have heard of her for one,' said a little dirty-faced black cat, speaking after they had all done, 'for I'm the cat that sits upon the hob of Owney and Owney-na-peak, the white-smiths, and I know many's the time young[163] Owney does be talking of her, when he sits by the fire alone, rubbing me down and planning how he can get into her father's court.'
 
'Whist, you natural!' says the cat that was making the speech, 'what do you think we care for your Owney, or Owney-na-peak?'
 
'Murther, murther!' thinks Owney to himself, 'did anybody ever hear the aiqual of this?'
 
'Well, gentlemen,' says the cat again, 'what I have to say is this. The king was last week struck with blindness, and you all know well, how and by what means any blindness may be cured. You know there is no disorder that can ail mortal frame, that may not be removed by praying a round at the well of Barrygowen[11] [164]yonder, and the king's disorder is such, that no other cure whatever can be had for it. Now, beware, don't let the secret pass one o' yer lips, for there's a great-grandson of Simon Magus, that is coming down to try his skill, and he it is that must use the water and marry the princess, who is to be given to any one so fortunate as to heal her father's eyes; and on that day, gentlemen, we are all promised a feast of the fattest mice that ever walked the ground.' This speech was wonderfully applauded by all the cats, and presently after, the whole crew scampered off, jumping, and mewing, and purring, down the hill.
 
Owney, being sensible that they were all gone, came from his hiding-place, and knowing the road to Barrygowen well, he set off, and groped his way out, and shortly knew, by the rolling of the waves,[12] coming in from the point of Foynes, that he was near the place. [165]He got to the well, and making a round like a good Christian, rubbed his eyes with the well-water, and looking up, saw day dawning in the east. Giving thanks, he jumped up on his feet, and you may say that Owney-na-peak was much astonished on opening the door of the forge to find him there, his eyes as well or better than ever, and his face as merry as a dance.
 
'Well, cousin,' said Owney, smiling, 'you have done me the greatest service that one man can do another; you put me in the way of getting two pieces of gold,' said he, showing two he had taken from his hiding-place. 'If you could only bear the pain of suffering me just to put out your eyes, and lay you in the same place as you laid me, who knows what luck you'd have?'
 
'No, there's no occasion for putting out eyes at all, but could not you lay me, just as I am, to-night, in that place, and let me try my own fortune, if it be a thing you tell thruth; and what else[166] could put the eyes in your head, after I burning them out with the irons?'
 
'You'll know all that in time,' says Owney, stopping him in his speech, for just at that minute, casting his eye towards the hob, he saw the cat sitting upon it, and looking very hard at him. So he made a sign to Owney-na-peak to be silent, or talk of something else; at which the cat turned away her eyes, and began washing her face, quite simple, with her two paws, looking now and then sideways into Owney's face, just like a Christian. By and by, when she had walked out of the forge, he shut the door after her, and finished what he was going to say, which made Owney-na-peak still more anxious than before to be placed under the tombstone. Owney agreed to it v............