nliest marryin' the divil's been at, but
he's not aften seen at thim when he's in as low sper'ts as he was at that.
But it was so that they were married wid Satan fur a witness, an' some
says the saint thransported thim to Kerry through the air, but 't isn't
meself that belaves that same, but that they walked to Kilrush an' wint to
Kerry in a fisherman's boat.

"Afther they'd shtarted, the saint turns to Satan an' says, 'No more av
yer thricks wid them two, me fine felly, fur I mane to give you a job
that'll kape ye out av mischief fur wan time at laste,' fur he was
mightily vexed wid him a-comin' that-a-way right into his cave the same as
if the place belonged to him.

"'Go you to work,' says he, 'an' put yer face on the rock over the
shpring, so that as long as the mountain shtands min can come an' see phat
sort av a dirthy lookin' baste ye are.'

"So Satan wint out an' looked up at the rock, shmilin', as fur to say that
was no great matther, an' whin the blessed man seen the grin that was on
him, he says, 'None av yer inchantmints will I have at all, at all. It's
honest work ye'll do, an' be the same token, here's me own hammer an'
chisel that ye'll take,' an' wid that the divil looked mighty sarious, an'
left aff grinnin' for he parsaived the clift was granite.

"'Sure it's jokin' yer Riverince is,' says he, 'ye don't mane it. Sorra
the harder bit av shtone bechuxt this an' Donegal,' an' it was thrue for
him, fur he knewn the coast well.

"'Bad luck to the taste av a lie's in it,' says the saint. 'So take yer
waypons an' go at it, owld Buck-an'-Whey, fur the sooner ye begin, the
quicker ye'll be done, an' the shtone won't soften be yer watin'. Mind ye
kape a civil tongue in yer head while ye're at the job, or it'll be a
holiday to the wan I'll find ye,' says he, lookin' at him very fierce.

"So wid great displazemint, Satan tuk the hammer an' chisel, an' climbed
up an' wint to work a cuttin' his own face on the shtone, an' it was as
hard as iron it was, an whin he'd hit it a couple av cracks, he shtopped
an' shuck his head an' thin scratched over his year wid the chisel an'
looked round at the saint as fur to say somethin', but the blessed saint
looked at him agin so fayroshus, that he made no raimark at all, but
turned back to the clift quick an' begun to hammer away in airnest till
the shweat shtud on his haythenish face like the dhrops on a wather-jug.

"On the next day, Lord Robert thought he'd call the ow