him.

"But the divil had enough o' Saint Kevin's heels, for he'd felt the kick
he cud give wid 'em, an' faix, the blessed saint was as well sarcumstanced
in that quarther as a donkey, an' Belzebub knew that same, so he niver
stayed, but when he saw Saint Kevin comin', immejitly the black horse
changed into a big dhraggin, an' the illigant close dhrapped aff the divil
an' in his own image he went aff shpurrin' the dhraggin, he an' the baste
flappin' their wings as fast as they cud to get out of the saint's way an'
lavin' afther thim the shmell av sulfur that shtrong that the blessed
saint did nothin' for an hour but hould his nose an' cough.

"Afther thim two axpayriences, the divil seen it was no use o' him
offerin' fur to conthraven Saint Kevin, so he rayjuiced his efforts to
botherin' the monks at the work. He'd hang about day an' night, doin' all
the mischief that he cud, bekase, says he, 'If I can't shtop thim, by
Jayminy, I'll delay thim to that degray that they'll find it the shlowest
job they ever undhertuk,' says he, an' so it was. When they'd finish a bit
o' the wall an' lave it to dhry, up 'ud come the divil an' kick it over;
when two o' them 'ud be carrying a heavy shtone, the divil, unbeknownst to
thim, 'ud knock it out o' their hands so as to make it dhrop on their
toes, a-thinkin' belike, that they'd shwear on the quiet to thimselves:
that they never did; when a holy father 'ud lay down his hammer an' turn
his back, the divil 'ud snatch it up an' fling it aff the wall; till wid
his knockin' over the wather-bucket, an' shcrapin' aff the morthar, an'
upsettin' the hod o' bricks, an' makin' the monks forgit where they'd put
things, it got so that they were in a muck o' shweat every hour o' the
day; an' from that time it got to be said, when anything wint wrong widout
a raizon, that the divil's in it.

"Now whin Saint Kevin conshecrated the church, they tuk wid it the ground
round about as far as ye see that shtone wall, for, says he, 'Sure it'll
always be handy.' So in coorse o' time, as the second church was gettin'
done, wan avenin' Saint Kevin went out wid a bucket fur to milk his cow,
that had just come down from the mountain where she'd been grazin'. Well,
he let the calf to her, an' the poor little baste bein' hungry, fur I
belave the cow hadn't come up the night afore, it begun on wan side an'
the saint an the other, an' the calf was suckin' away wid all the jaws it
had, an' kep' up a haythenish punch