ays a man,
coming up to him, and looking first at the saucer and then in his
face. 'Is it thinking anybody would go make a _muthaun_ of himself to
give the like for that saucer?' But Owney-na-peak had no answer to
make, only to cry out: 'Raal chaney! one hundred pieces of goold!'

A crowd soon collected about him, and finding he would give no account
of himself, they all fell upon him, beat him within an inch of his
life, and after having satisfied themselves upon him, they went their
way laughing and shouting. Towards sunset he got up, and crawled home
as well as he could, without cup or money. As soon as Owney saw him,
he helped him into the forge, looking very mournful, although, if the
truth must be told, it was to revenge himself for former good deeds of
his cousin that he set him about this foolish business.

'Come here, Owney, eroo,' said his cousin, after he had fastened the
forge door and heated two irons in the fire. 'You child of mischief!'
said he, when he had caught him, 'you shall never see the fruits of
your roguery again, for I will put out your eyes.' And so saying he
snatched one of the red-hot irons from the fire.

It was all in vain for poor Owney to throw himself on his knees, and
ask mercy, and beg and implore forgiveness; he was weak, and
Owney-na-peak was strong; he held him fast, and burned out both his
eyes. Then taking him, while he was yet fainting from the pain, upon
his back, he carried him off to the bleak hill of Knockpatrick,[10] a
great distance, and there laid him under a tombstone, and went his
ways. In a little time after, Owney came to himself.

[Footnote 10: A hill in the west of the County of Limerick, on the
summit of which are the ruins of an old church, with a burying-ground
still in use. The situation is exceedingly singular and bleak.]

'O sweet light of day! what is to become of me now?' thought the poor
lad, as he lay on his back under the tomb. 'Is this to be the fruit of
that unhappy present? Must I be dark for ever and ever? and am I never
more to look upon that sweet countenance, that even in my blindness is
not entirely shut out from me?' He would have said a great deal more
in this way, and perhaps more pathetic still, but just then he heard a
great mewing, as if all the cats in the world were coming up the hill
together in one faction. He gathered himself up, and drew back under
the stone, and remained quite still, expecting what would come next.
In a very short