o be on the day which is to decide who will be the
successful suitor of the princess."

"What is it to me," said Fergus, "who is to win her since I cannot."

"I told you," said the little man, "the night you opened the door for
me, that the time might come when I might be able to do a good turn
for you and yours. The time has come. Take this harp, and my luck go
with you, and in the contest of the bards to-day you'll reap the
reward of the kindness you did when you opened your door to the poor
old wayfarer in the midnight storm."

The little man handed his harp to Fergus and disappeared as swiftly as
the wind that passes through the leaves.

Fergus, concealing the harp under his silken cloak, reached the camp
before his comrades had aroused themselves from sleep.

At length the hour arrived when the great contest was to take place.

The king gave the signal, and as the chief bard of Erin was seen
ascending the mound in front of the royal enclosures he was greeted
with a roar of cheers, but at the first note of his harp silence like
that of night fell on the mighty gathering.

As he moved his fingers softly over the strings every heart was
hushed, filled with a sense of balmy rest. The lark soaring and
singing above his head paused mute and motionless in the still air,
and no sound was heard over the spacious plain save the dreamy music.
Then the bard struck another key, and a gentle sorrow possessed the
hearts of his hearers, and unbidden tears gathered to their eyes.
Then, with bolder hand, he swept his fingers across his lyre, and all
hearts were moved to joy and pleasant laughter, and eyes that had been
dimmed by tears sparkled as brightly as running waters dancing in the
sun. When the last notes had died away a cheer arose, loud as the
voice of the storm in the glen when the live thunder is revelling on
the mountain tops. As soon as the bard had descended the mound the
Skald from the northern lands took his place, greeted by cries of
welcome from a hundred thousand throats. He touched his harp, and in
the perfect silence was heard the strains of the mermaid's song, and
through it the pleasant ripple of summer waters on the pebbly beach.
Then the theme was changed, and on the air was borne the measured
sweep of countless oars and the swish of waters around the prows of
contending galleys, and the breezy voices of the sailors and the
sea-bird's cry. Then his theme was changed to the mirth and laughter
of the b