y on the pipes as merrily as if
nothing had happened. The river was running very rapidly, so he was
whirled away at a great rate; but he played as fast, ay, and faster,
than the river ran; and though they set off as hard as they could
along the bank, yet, as the river made a sudden turn round the hill,
about a hundred yards below the bridge, by the time they got there he
was out of sight, and no one ever laid eyes on him more; but the
general opinion was that he went home with the pipes to his own
relations, the good people, to make music for them.

A FAIRY ENCHANTMENT

_Story-teller_--MICHAEL HART

_Recorder_--W. B. YEATS

In the times when we used to travel by canal I was coming down from
Dublin. When we came to Mullingar the canal ended, and I began to
walk, and stiff and fatigued I was after the slowness. I had some
friends with me, and now and then we walked, now and then we rode in a
cart. So on till we saw some girls milking a cow, and stopped to joke
with them. After a while we asked them for a drink of milk. 'We have
nothing to put it in here,' they said, 'but come to the house with
us.' We went home with them and sat round the fire talking. After a
while the others went, and left me, loath to stir from the good fire.
I asked the girls for something to eat. There was a pot on the fire,
and they took the meat out and put it on a plate and told me to eat
only the meat that came from the head. When I had eaten, the girls
went out and I did not see them again.

It grew darker and darker, and there I still sat, loath as ever to
leave the good fire; and after a while two men came in, carrying
between them a corpse. When I saw them I hid behind the door. Says one
to the other, 'Who'll turn the spit?' Says the other, 'Michael Hart,
come out of that and turn the meat!' I came out in a tremble and began
turning the spit. 'Michael Hart,' says the one who spoke first, 'if
you let it burn we will have to put you on the spit instead,' and on
that they went out. I sat there trembling and turning the corpse until
midnight. The men came again, and the one said it was burnt, and the
other said it was done right, but having fallen out over it, they both
said they would do me no harm that time; and sitting by the fire one
of them cried out, 'Michael Hart, can you tell a story?' 'Never a
one,' said I. On that he caught me by the shoulders and put me out
like a shot.

It was a wild, blowing night; never in all my bor