t is an' no mishtake."

On so deep and difficult a subject, an ounce of knowledge is worth a pound
of speculation, and the knowledge desired was finally furnished by an old
fisherman of Ballyconealy Bay, on the Connemara coast, west of Galway.
This individual, Dennis Moriarty by name, knew all about the Enchanted
Island, having not only seen it himself, but, when a boy, learned its
history from a "fairy man," who obtained his information from "the good
people" themselves, the facts stated being therefore, of course, of
indisputable authority, what the fairies did not know concerning the
doings of supernatural and enchanted circles, being not worth knowing. Mr.
Moriarty was stricken in years, having long given up active service in the
boats and relegated himself to lighter duties on shore. He had much
confidence in the accuracy of his information on the subject of the
island, and a glass of grog, and "dhraw ov the pipe," brought out the
story in a rich, mellow brogue.

"Faith, I'm not rightly sure how long ago it was, but it was a good while
an' before the blessed Saint Pathrick come to the counthry an' made
Crissans av the haythens in it. Howandiver, it was in thim times that
betune this an' Inishmore, there was an island. Some calls it the Island
av Shades, an' more says its name was the Sowls Raypose, but it doesn't
matther, fur no wan knows. It was as full av payple as it could howld, an'
cities wor on it wid palaces an' coorts an' haythen timples an' round
towers all covered wid goold an' silver till they shone so ye cudn't see
for the brightness.

"And they wor all haythens there, an' the king av the island was the
biggest av thim, sure he was Satan's own, an' tuk delight in doin' all the
bloody things that come into his head. If the waither that minded the
table did annything to displaze him, he'd out wid a soord the length av me
arrum an' cut aff his head. If they caught a man shtaling, the king 'ud
have him hung at wanst widout the taste av a thrial, 'Bekase,' says the
king, says he, 'maybe he didn't do it at all, an' so he'd get aff, so up
wid him,' an' so they'd do. He had more than a hunderd wives, ginerally
spakin', but he wasn't throubled in the laste be their clack, for whin wan
had too much blasthogue in her jaw, or begun gostherin' at him, he cut aff
her head an' said, beways av a joke, that 'that's the only cure fur a
woman's tongue.' An' all the time, from sun to sun, he was cursin' an'
howlin' wid r