o my own immediate
neighbourhood by the monotonous clatter of a horse's hoofs upon the
road, evidently moving, at that peculiar pace which is neither a
walk nor a trot, and yet partakes of both, so much in vogue among the
southern farmers.

In a moment my pursuer was up with me, and checking his steed into a
walk he saluted me with much respect. The cavalier was a light-built
fellow, with good-humoured sun-burnt features, a shrewd and lively
black eye, and a head covered with a crop of close curly black hair, and
surmounted with a turf-coloured caubeen, in the packthread band of which
was stuck a short pipe, which had evidently seen much service.

My companion was a dealer in all kinds of local lore, and soon took
occasion to let me see that he was so.

After two or three short stories, in which the scandalous and
supernatural were happily blended, we happened to arrive at a narrow
road or bohreen leading to a snug-looking farm-house.

'That's a comfortable bit iv a farm,' observed my comrade, pointing
towards the dwelling with his thumb; 'a shnug spot, and belongs to the
Mooneys this long time. 'Tis a noted place for what happened wid the
famous gandher there in former times.'

'And what was that?' inquired I.

'What was it happened wid the gandher!' ejaculated my companion in a
tone of indignant surprise; 'the gandher iv Ballymacrucker, the gandher!
Your raverance must be a stranger in these parts. Sure every fool knows
all about the gandher, and Terence Mooney, that was, rest his sowl.
Begorra, 'tis surprisin' to me how in the world you didn't hear iv the
gandher; and may be it's funnin me ye are, your raverance.'

I assured him to the contrary, and conjured him to narrate to me the
facts, an unacquaintance with which was sufficient it appeared to stamp
me as an ignoramus of the first magnitude.

It did not require much entreaty to induce my communicative friend to
relate the circumstance, in nearly the following words:

'Terence Mooney was an honest boy and well to do; an' he rinted the
biggest farm on this side iv the Galties; an' bein' mighty cute an' a
sevare worker, it was small wonder he turned a good penny every harvest.
But unluckily he was blessed with an ilegant large family iv daughters,
an' iv coorse his heart was allamost bruck, striving to make up fortunes
for the whole of them. An' there wasn't a conthrivance iv any soart or
description for makin' money out iv the farm, but he was up to.

'