l morning.' Accordingly we did so, and when we awoke in
the morning we found ourselves on the summit of Cairn Feargaill, with
our hounds and arms by us. So there is the meaning of the byword, 'The
hospitality of Fionn in the house of Cuanna,' O Conan," said Fionn.

(_Translated from the Irish by Nicholas O'Kearney._)

The White Trout

(_A Legend of Cong._)

"There was wanst upon a time, long ago, a beautiful young lady that
lived in a castle up by the lake beyant, and they say she was promised
to a king's son, and they wor to be married, when, all of a suddent, he
was murthered, the crathur (Lord help us!) and threwn in the lake abou,
and so, of coorse, he couldn't keep his promise to the fair lady--and
more's the pity.

"Well, the story goes that she went out iv her mind, bekase of loosin'
the king's son--for she was tindher-hearted, God help her! like the rest
iv us--and pined away after him, until at last no one about seen her,
good or bad; and the story wint that the fairies took her away.

"Well, sir, in coorse o' time the white throut, God bless it! was seen
in the sthrame beyant; and sure the people didn't know what to think of
the crathur, seein' as how a _white_ brown throut was never heerd av
afore nor sence; and years upon years the throut was there, just where
you seen it this blessed minit, longer nor I can tell--aye, throth, and
beyant the memory o' th' ouldest in the village.

"At last the people began to think it must be a fairy; for what else
could it be?--and no hurt nor harm was iver put an the throut, until
some wicked sinners of sojers kem to these parts, and laughed at all the
people, and gibed and jeered them for thinkin' o' the likes; and one o'
them in partic'lar (bad luck to him--God forgi' me for sayin' it!) swore
he'd catch the throut and ate it for his dinner--the blackguard!

"Well, what would you think o' the villiany of the sojer?--sure enough
he cotch the throut, and away wid him home, and puts an the fryin' pan,
and into it he pitches the purty little thing. The throut squeeled all
as one as a Christian crathur, and, my dear, you'd think the sojer id
split his sides laughin'--for he was a harden'd villian; and when he
thought one side was done, he turns it over to fry the other; and what
would you think? but the divil a taste of a burn was an it at all at
all; and sure the sojer thought it was a _quare_ throut that couldn't be
briled; 'but,' says he, 'I'll give it anothe