deeds,
the women of Caledonia went forth to battle with men at the sound
of the pibroch. Some of the noblest of them reigned as queens, were
hailed as deliverers, or gave their blood in martyrdom to warm the
soil of their country. The Scotch-Irish tribes accorded their women
place in the deliberative bodies, and listened to their counsel. The
magnificent virility which they displayed was not different from that
of British women generally. The noble Boadicea was no more valorous
than the Irish Meave. From the dim shadow land of the past must some
of the characters of this recital be called up, but the Middle Ages
and modern periods will be most largely drawn upon to tell the story
of the Celtic woman, as a part of the chronicle of a country where, as
we have fully seen, women have always counted as factors. Macha of the
Red Tresses is the first of the Irish queens whose figure stands out
with sufficient boldness to fix it upon the pages of history. Would
one marvel at her beauty or her prowess, let him have recourse to the
praises of the early bards and the laudations of the chroniclers.
We can well believe that, to her countrymen, she appeared as the
incarnation of some divinity as she rode at the head of her body of
stalwart warriors; her auburn tresses floating loose in the wind,
her mantle flung carelessly over her shoulder, her neck and arms
and ankles girdled with massive gold ornaments, her eyes flashing
determination as she pointed the advance to the foray with her lance
directed toward the foe drawn up in battle line to receive the charge.

A quarrel as to the succession to the throne or to the headship of
the tribe, which was precipitated by the death of her father without
posterity excepting this intrepid daughter, was the occasion of her
appearance upon the page of national affairs, or rather of tribal
history. She gained the victory over her adversaries, and ruled her
people for seven years. The romantic annals of this valorous lady
relate how she pursued the sons of her adversary to effect their
destruction; and the more certainly to accomplish her purpose, she
disguised herself as a leper, by rubbing her face with rye dough. Away
in the depths of a dense forest she finds them cooking the wild boar
they had just slain. Having successfully used her disguise to achieve
her end, she rid herself of the leprous-looking splotches. With
honeyed words and the judicious flashing of love-light from a pair
of wondro