THE BAWN VONE. 241 



possible manner, to explain or give some account of herself. Threat- 

 ened or coaxed, it made no impression. The creature still muttered 

 the same gibberish. She was offered charity, but touched it not 

 food, she did not taste it. Conjecture deepened into superstition. 

 But it is only when the cause has disappeared, and after the lapse of 

 time, that superstition can seize upon the legendary tale. That day 

 little business was done in the market house. Crowds succeeded 

 crowds, all gaping at the sudden spectacle, which seemed to have 

 dropped from the clouds, or to have arisen from the earth, for none 

 could tell where it had come from, how it had entered, and how, of 

 all places in the world, it had been found there. As night approached, 

 the lady whom we have almost lost sight of, the Bawn Vone, who 

 had heard of the circumstance, determined to visit the poor being. 

 Even to her commanding yet gentle accents nothing could be ac- 

 corded. She determined to take her under her own care, and 

 ordered two stout hearty fellows whom she knew " adored the ground 

 she walked upon" to raise up the poor unfortunate. After an ex- 

 pression of that disposition to swear, implied in a bedad or two, that 

 4< they feared she'd bite the nose off them," and after making the sign 

 of the cross, an attempt was made to obey the injunction. The two 

 boys, with that blended feeling of mirth and compassion which the 

 Irish peasant knows how to mix together in his own odd way, stooped 

 down, and each crossing his arms in such a fashion as that the right 

 hand of the one met the left of the other, and vice versa, commenced 

 gently to raise the poor object, singing together 



" Give me a pin to stick in my thumb, 

 To carry my lady to London." 



But no sooner had they attempted to put their well-meant kindness 

 into effect than the low-muttered gibberish arose into the most dis- 

 cordant shrieks, still retaining the same mysterious form of language. 

 They were obliged to lay her down again, exclaiming, " The Lord 

 preserve us; we can make no hand of you. How could we mean ye 

 any harm avich, and the Bawn Vone herself watching over ye." 



The shrieks continued, and they were leaving her in despair, when 

 the Bawn Vone declared that at all events the creature should be 

 sheltered from the cold of the night, and, what was the utmost she 

 could do, had her forced into the corner of the building, where 

 clean straw was provided for her, with some covering and food ; the 

 latter she did not taste, but, upon returning however at morning, it 

 was observed to have disappeared. Some few nights after the idiot 

 had been so lodged, Henry Lacy was returning home from a party. 

 It was one of those nights which you do not know whether to call wet 

 or fine. Dark masses of clouds swept across the sky, occasionally ob- 

 scuring it, and sending down a swift smart shower, which, passing 

 away, the moon shone out, unless, another mass'coming on, she was 

 either partially or entirely hid. As Lacy was passing by the mar- 

 ket-house, the rain came down heavily, and he struck into it for shel- 

 ter. The idiot within was roused, and made use of the same sounds 

 which were now thought to indicate a share in some terrible transac- 

 tion. Our hero, when abroad, hacj been engaged in an affair of 

 honour, the result of which, although not to blame in the transaction,^ 



