AND HOW I HAVE CAUGHT MY FISH 113 



a splash, and all was changed. Lips smacked 

 together and laughter died. Up and out of the 

 blue depths, within a foot of my top ring, a face 

 had appeared, which so startled me with its human 

 expression and the " phew " of its nostrils that I felt 

 for one acute instant that someone was overboard. 

 When I had quite recovered my equanimity I 

 exclaimed: "What do you think of that?" To 

 my great surprise no one answered me ; each 

 seemed to prefer that some one of the others should 

 speak. After a painful pause I heard what was 

 little more than a whisper from bow-oar, " May the 

 divil put horns on the ghost!" Then I guessed 

 that the appearance of the seal had stirred to 

 activity a painful superstition. 



Of their superstitions the Irish generally prefer 

 not to talk. Sometimes I have drawn them out, 

 but then they have relieved themselves of responsi- 

 bility by attributing the faith to the people of some 

 other district. In this case I was told that the 

 Tory Island people believe that when wicked old 

 women die, after doing so much mischief in this 

 world as to prevent their entrance into Heaven, 

 they are doomed to be for ever imprisoned in a 

 seal with big, staring, tearful eyes such as had just 

 now appeared. The rowers' heads were inclined 

 at different angles so as to avoid being deprived, 

 by the head in front, of a look at the expression 

 on my face. I have learned that nothing begets 

 confidence so quickly as sympathy. I therefore 



I 



