A Killarney Legend.

BY T. CROFTON CROKER, ESQ.

Above all the islands in the Lakes of Killarney, give me Innisfallen--
"sweet Innisfallen," as the melodious Moore calls it. It is in truth a
fairy isle, although I have no fairy story to tell you about it; and if I
had, these are such unbelieving times, and people of late have grown so
sceptical, that they only smile at my stories and doubt them.

However, none will doubt that a monastery once stood upon Innisfallen
island, for its ruins may still be seen; neither, that within its walls
dwelt certain pious and learned persons called monks. A very pleasant set
of fellows they were, I make not the smallest doubt; and I am sure of
this, that they had a very pleasant spot to enjoy themselves in after
dinner--the proper time, believe me, and I am no bad judge of such
matters, for the enjoyment of a fine prospect.

Out of all the monks you could not pick a better fellow nor a merrier soul
than Father Cuddy; he sang a good song, he told a good story, and had a
jolly, comfortable-looking paunch of his own, that was a credit to any
refectory table. He was distinguished above all the rest by the name of
"the fat father." Now there are many that will take huff at a name; but
Father Cuddy had no nonsense of that kind about him; he laughed at it, and
well able he was to laugh, for his mouth nearly reached from one ear to
the other--his might, in truth, be called an open countenance. As his
paunch was no disgrace to his food, neither was his nose to his drink.
'Tis a question to me if there were not more carbuncles upon it than ever
were seen at the bottom of the lake, which is said to be full of them. His
eyes had a right merry twinkle in them, like moonshine dancing on the
water; and his cheeks had the roundness and crimson glow of ripe arbutus
berries.

He eat, and drank, and prayed, and slept--what then?
He eat, and drank, and prayed, and slept again!

Such was the tenor of his simple life; but when he prayed, a certain
drowsiness would come upon him, which it must be confessed never occurred
when a well filled "black jack" stood before him. Hence his prayers were
short, and his draughts were long. The world loved him, and he saw no
reason why he should not in return love its venison and its usquebaugh.
But, as times went, he must have been a pious man, or else what befel him
never would have happened.

Spiritual affairs--for it was respecting the importation of a