st the vengeance of the fairies might come down on
themselves and their cattle, in a thousand shapes."

"I will tell you what the general opinion upon the subject is," replied
the other. "It seems his foster-mother was a midwife, and that she was
called upon once, about the hour of midnight, to discharge the duties
of her profession toward a fairyman's wife, and this she refused to do
unless they conferred some gift either upon herself personally, or
upon some one whom she should name. Young Shawn, it appears, was her
favorite, and she got a solemn promise from them to take him under their
protection, and to preserve him from danger. This is the opinion of the
people; but whether it is true or not I won't undertake to determine."

"Come, gentlemen," said their host, "push the bottle; remember we must
attend the bonfire."

"So," said the magistrate, "you are sending us to blazes, Mr. Lindsay."

"Well, at all events, my friends," continued Mr. Lindsay, "we must make
haste, for there's little time to spare. Take your liquor, for we must
soon be off. The evening is delightful. If you are for coffee, let us
adjourn to the ladies; and after the bonfire we will return and make a
night of it."

"Well said, Lindsay," replied the parson; "and so we will."

"Here, you young stranger," said the priest, addressing Woodward, "I'll
drink your health once more in this bumper. You touched us off decently
enough, but a little too much on the sharp, as you would admit if you
knew us. Your health again, sir, and you are welcome among us!"

"Thank you, sir," replied Woodward; "I am glad to see that you can bear
a jest from me or my father, even when it is at your own expense--your
health."

"Are you a sportsman?" asked the parson; "because, if you are not, just
put yourself under my patronage, and I will teach you something worth
knowing. I will let you see what shooting and hunting mean."

"I am a bit of one," replied Woodward, "but shall be very happy to put
myself into your hand, notwithstanding."

"If I don't lengthen your face I shall raise your heart," proceeded, the
divine. "If I don't make a sportsman of you--"

"Ay," added the priest, "you will find yourself in excellent hands, Mr.
Woodward."

"If I don't make a sportsman of you:--confound your grinning, Father
Tom, what are you at?--I'll make a far better thing of you, that is, a
good fellow, always, of course, provided that you have the materials in
you."

"Not a