waves creaming by the
rocks of Ben Edair, and they blessed the power that had guided and
protected them, and they blessed the comely land of Ir.

On reaching Tara, Delvcaem, who was more powerful in art and magic than
Becuma, ordered the latter to go away, and she did so.

She left the king's side. She came from the midst of the counsellors and
magicians. She did not bid farewell to any one. She did not say good-bye
to the king as she set out for Ben Edair.

Where she could go to no man knew, for she had been ban-ished from the
Many-Coloured Land and could not return there. She was forbidden entry
to the Shi' by Angus Og, and she could not remain in Ireland. She went
to Sasana and she became a queen in that country, and it was she who
fostered the rage against the Holy Land which has not ceased to this
day.

MONGAN'S FRENZY

CHAPTER I

The abbot of the Monastery of Moville sent word to the story-tellers of
Ireland that when they were in his neighbourhood they should call at
the monastery, for he wished to collect and write down the stories which
were in danger of being forgotten.

"These things also must be told," said he.

In particular he wished to gather tales which told of the deeds that had
been done before the Gospel came to Ireland.

"For," said he, "there are very good tales among those ones, and it
would be a pity if the people who come after us should be ignorant of
what happened long ago, and of the deeds of their fathers."

So, whenever a story-teller chanced in that neighbourhood he was
directed to the monastery, and there he received a welcome and his fill
of all that is good for man.

The abbot's manuscript boxes began to fill up, and he used to regard
that growing store with pride and joy. In the evenings, when the days
grew short and the light went early, he would call for some one of these
manuscripts and have it read to him by candle-light, in order that he
might satisfy himself that it was as good as he had judged it to be on
the previous hearing.

One day a story-teller came to the monastery, and, like all the others,
he was heartily welcomed and given a great deal more than his need.

He said that his name was Cairide', and that he had a story to tell
which could not be bettered among the stories of Ireland.

The abbot's eyes glistened when he heard that. He rubbed his hands
together and smiled on his guest.

"What is the name of your story?" he asked.

"It is called 'M