AT THE RIVER'S EDGE 5 



" I wouldn't believe in fairies mcsclf, but as for 

 thim Connemara people, they'd believe anything." 



Nothing was more certain than that Anastasia did 

 believe in fairies, but it would have been impolite 

 on my part to traverse a statement made to suit the 

 standard of an auditor who could read books, and 

 had travelled beyond Gal way town. 



" Out where me mother's people live, there's a big 

 rock near the sea, and they say the fairies has a 

 house inside in it. They have some owld talk that 

 yc'd hear the children crying when the fairies does 

 be bringing them in it." 



Anastasia blew a sigh through her broad nostrils, 

 vaguely religious, compassionate for the darkness 

 of the Connemara people; to exhibit freely the 

 devoutness which she indeed possessed was a gift 

 bestowed upon her by nature. I asked her what 

 she thought about the origin of the fairies. 



" It's what they say, the fairies was the fallen 

 angels, and when they were threw out of Heaven, 

 they asked might they stay on the earth, and they 

 got leave. 'Tis best for me go stir the grool." 



In the silence that followed, while the gruel was 

 being stirred, the low yet eager voice of the river 

 outside made itself heard. The hazy full moon stared 

 upon the water, and the water answered with glitter 

 and with swirl, as it fled through the trance of the 

 January night. The Gal way river races under its 

 bridges like a pack of white hounds ; this little river, 

 its blood relation, runs like a troop of playing children. 



" But there's quare things do happen," resumed 

 Anastasia, sitting down again with the caution that 

 comes of perfect acquaintance with three-legged 

 stools and four-legged stools on hilly mud floors. 

 " There was a woman near me own village, and she 

 seen me one Sunday evening coming over the road, 



