ivil was workin' away pilin' on the airth an' shtones. So
he comes craipin' up on him an' when he got purty clost, he riz an' says,
'Hilloo, Nayber!' Now Belzebub was like to dhrop on the ground wid fright
at the look av him, he was that astonished. But there was no gettin' away,
so he shtopped on the job, wiped the shweat aff his face, an' says,
'Hilloo yerself.'

"'Ye're at yer owld thricks,' says the blessed Caruck.

"'Shmall blame to me, that's,' says Belzebub, 'wid yer churches an' saints
an' convartin' thim haythens, ye're shpiling me business entirely. Sure,
haven't I got to airn me bread?' says he, spakin' up as bowld as a cock,
and axcusin' himself.

"At first the blessed Caruck was goin' to be rough wid him for shtrivin'
to interfare wid the church an' the priest's house be risin' the wather on
thim, but that minnit the moon shone out as bright as day an' he looked
back an' there was the beautifulest lake he iver set his blessed eyes on,
an' the church wid its towers riz above it like a fairy cassel in a
dhrame, an' he clasped his hands wid delight. So Satan looked too an' was
mortefied to death wid invy when he seen how he bate himself at his own
game.

"So the blessed Caruck towld Belzebub to lave the dam where it was, an'
then, thinkin' av the poor bog-throtters that 'ud nade the turf, he
ordhered him beways av a punishmint, to dig all the turf there was in the
bog an' pile it up on the hill to dhry.

"'Don't you lave as much as a speck av it undher wather,' says he to him,
'or as sure as I'm a saint I'll make ye repint it to the end o' yer
snakin' life,' says he, an' thin stud on the bank an' watched the Owld
Deludher while he brought out the turf in loads on his back, an' ivery
load as big as the church, till the hape av sods was as high as a
mountain. So he got it done be mornin', an' glad enough was the divil to
have the job aff his hands, fur he was as wet as a goose in May an' as
tired as a pedler's donkey. So the blessed Caruck towld him to take
himself aff an' not come back: that he was mighty well plazed to do.

[Illustration: The Church by the Bog]

"That's the way the lake come to be here, an' the blessed Caruck come well
out o' that job, fur he sold the turf an' built a big house on the shore
wid the money, an' chated the divil besides, Glory be to God, when the
Owld Wan was thryin' his best fur to sarcumvint a saint."

ABOUT THE FAIRIES.

[Illu