St. Michael that he might purtect him."

* The people believe the superstition to be as is
stated above. Any child born on Whitsunday, or the day
after, is supposed to be doomed to die an unnatural
death. The consequence is, that the child is named
after and dedicated to some particular saint, in the
hope that his influence may obviate his evil doom.

"Make yourself aisy, I say; don't I tell you I have the prayer to keep
it back--hach! hach!--why, there's a bit stuck in my throath, some
way! Wurrah dheelish, what's this! Maybe, you could give me a sup o'
dhrink--wather, or anything to moisten the morsel I'm atin? Wurrah,
ma'am dear, make haste, it's goin' agin' the breath wid me!"

"Oh, the sorra taste o' wather, Darby," said Owen; "sure this is
Christmas-eve, you know: so you see, Darby, for ould acquaintance sake,
an' that you may put up an odd prayer now an' thin for us, jist be
thryin' this."

Darby honored the gift by immediate acceptance.

"Well, Owen Reillaghan," said he, "you make me take more o' this stuff
nor any man I know; and particularly by rason that bein' given, wid a
blessin', to the ranns, an' prayers, an' holy charms, I don't think it
so good; barrin', indeed, as Father Donnellan towld me, when the wind,
by long fastin', gets into my stomach, as was the case today, I'm often
throubled, God help me, wid a configuration in the--hugh! ugh--an' thin
it's good for me--a little of it."

"This would make a brave powdher-horn, Darby Moore," observed one
of Reilla-ghan's sons, "if it wasn't so big. What do you keep in it,
Darby?"

"Why, _avillish_, (* my sweet) nothin' indeed but a sup o' Father
Donnellan's holy water, that they say by all accounts it costs him great
trouble to make, by rason that he must fast a long time, and pray by the
day, afore he gets himself holy enough to consecrate it."

"It smells like whiskey, Darby," said the boy, without any intention,
however, of offending him. "It smells very like poteen."

"Hould yer tongue, Risthard," said the elder Reillaghan; "what 'ud make
the honest man have whiskey in it? Didn't he tell you what's in it?"

"The gorsoon's right enough," replied Darby. "I got the horn from Barny
Dalton a couple o' days agone; 'twas whiskey he had in it, an' it smells
of it sure enough, an' will, indeed, for some time longer. Och! och! the
heavens be praised, I've made a good dinner! May they never know want
that gave it to me! Oxis