Tales of Wonder Every Child Should Know | Page 6

smith of the name of MacEachern.
This man had an only child, a boy of about thirteen or fourteen years of
age, cheerful, strong, and healthy. All of a sudden he fell ill; took to his
bed and moped whole days away. No one could tell what was the
matter with him, and the boy himself could not, or would not, tell how
he felt. He was wasting away fast; getting thin, old, and yellow; and his
father and all his friends were afraid that he would die.
At last one day, after the boy had been lying in this condition for a long
time, getting neither better nor worse, always confined to bed, but with
an extraordinary appetite--one day, while sadly revolving these things,
and standing idly at his forge, with no heart to work, the smith was
agreeably surprised to see an old man, well known for his sagacity and
knowledge of out-of-the-way things, walk into his workshop. Forthwith
he told him the occurrence which had clouded his life.
The old man looked grave as he listened; and after sitting a long time

pondering over all he had heard, gave his opinion thus: "It is not your
son you have got. The boy has been carried away by the 'Daione Sith,'
and they have left a Sibhreach in his place."
"Alas! and what then am I to do?" said the smith. "How am I ever to
see my own son again?"
"I will tell you how," answered the old man. "But, first, to make sure
that it is not your own son you have got, take as many empty egg-shells
as you can get, go into his room, spread them out carefully before his
sight, then proceed to draw water with them, carrying them two and
two in your hands as if they were a great weight, and arrange them
when full, with every sort of earnestness around the fire."
The smith accordingly gathered as many broken egg-shells as he could
get, went into the room, and proceeded to carry out all his instructions.
He had not been long at work before there arose from the bed a shout of
laughter, and the voice of the seeming sick boy exclaimed, "I am eight
hundred years of age, and I have never seen the like of that before."
The smith returned and told the old man.
"Well, now," said the sage to him, "did I not tell you that it was not
your son you had: your son is in Borracheill in a digh there (that is, a
round green hill frequented by fairies). Get rid as soon as possible of
this intruder, and I think I may promise you your son. You must light a
very large and bright fire before the bed on which this stranger is lying.
He will ask you, 'What is the use of such a fire as that?' Answer him at
once, 'You will see that presently!' and then seize him, and throw him
into the middle of it. If it is your own son you have got, he will call out
to you to save him; but if not, the thing will fly through the roof."
The smith again followed the old man's advice: kindled a large fire,
answered the question put to him as he had been directed to do, and
seizing the child flung him in without hesitation. The Sibhreach gave
an awful yell, and sprang through the roof, where a hole had been left
to let the smoke out.

On a certain night the old man told him the green round hill, where the
fairies kept the boy, would be open, and on that date the smith, having
provided himself with a Bible, a dirk, and a crowing cock, was to
proceed to the hill. He would hear singing and dancing, and much
merriment going on, he had been told, but he was to advance boldly;
the Bible he carried would be a certain safeguard to him against any
danger from the fairies. On entering the hill he was to stick the dirk in
the threshold, to prevent the hill from closing upon him; "and then,"
continued the old man, "on entering you will see a spacious apartment
before you, beautifully clean, and there, standing far within, working at
a forge, you will also see your own son. When you are questioned, say
you come to seek him, and will not go without him."
Not long after this, the time came round, and the smith sallied forth,
prepared as instructed. Sure enough as he approached the hill, there was
a light where light was seldom seen before. Soon after, a sound of
piping, dancing, and joyous merriment reached the anxious father on
the night wind.
Overcoming every impulse to fear, the