ude this chapter with an undisputed account of
the origin of Lough Ree in the River Shannon, the accuracy of the
information being in every particular guaranteed by a boatman on the
Shannon, "a respectable man," who solemnly asseverated "Sure, that's no
laigend, but the blessed truth as I'm livin' this minnit, for I'd sooner
cut out me tongue be the root than desave yer Anner, when every wan knows
there's not a taste av a lie in it at all."

"When the blessed Saint Pathrick was goin' through Ireland from wan end to
the other buildin' churches, an' Father Malone says he built three
hundherd an' sixty foive, that's a good manny, he come to Roscommon be the
way av Athlone, where ye saw the big barracks an' the sojers. So he passed
through Athlone, the counthry bein' full o' haythens entirely an' not av
Crissans, and went up the Shannon, kapin' the river on his right hand, an'
come to a big peat bog, that's where the lake is now. There were more than
a thousand poor omadhawns av haythens a-diggin' the peat, an' the blessed
saint convarted thim at wanst afore he'd shtir a toe to go anny furder.
Then he built thim a church an the hill be the bog, an' gev thim a holy
man fur a priest be the name o' Caruck, that I b'lave is a saint too or
lasteways ought to be fur phat he done. So Saint Pathrick left thim wid
the priest, givin' him great power on the divil an' avil sper'ts, and
towld him to build a priest's house as soon as he cud. So the blessed
Caruck begged an' begged as long as he got anny money, an' whin he'd the
last ha'penny he cud shtart, he begun the priest's house fur to kape monks
in.

"But the divil was watchin' him ivery minnit, fur it made the owld felly
tarin' mad to see himself bate out o' the face that-a-way in the counthry
where he'd been masther so long, an' he detarmined he'd spile the job. So
wan night, he goes to the bottom o' the bog, an' begins dammin' the
shtrame, from wan side to the other, layin' the shtones shtrong an' tight,
an' the wather begins a risin' an the bog. Now it happened that the
blessed Caruck wasn't aslape as Satan thought, but up an' about, for he
misthrusted that the Owld Wan was dodgin' round like a wayzel, an' was an
the watch fur him. So when the blessed man saw the wather risin' on the
bog an' not a taste o' rain fallin', 'Phat's this?' says he. 'Sure it's
some o' Satan's deludherin'.'

"So down he goes bechuxt the hills an' kapin' from the river, an' comes up
below where the d