Sheila. But there was; and only that there was I would not screech.
Nora. Tell Peg that you won’t screech now, and she will tell us a story.
Sheila. I won't screech now, Peg, whatever will happen to me.
Peg. Well then, sit here near me so that no one can pinch you unknown to me.
Kate. I’ll engage the cat will pinch her. You little hussy, we would have a fine story but for yourself and your screeching.
Gob. Whist! Kate, or you'll make her cry and we’ll be without a story. If Peg is made angry she will not tell a story to-night. There, now, Peg, everyone is mute, expecting a story from you.
Peg. There was a man long ago and the name that was on him was Seadhna, and he was a shoemaker. He had a nice well-sheltered little house at the foot of a hill, on the side of the shelter. He had a chair of soogauns which, he himself made for himself, and it was usual with him to sit in it in the evening when the work of the day used to be completed, and when he sat in it he was quite at his ease. He had a malvogue of meal hanging up near the fire, and now and then he used to put his hand into it and take a fist-full of the meal, and be chewing at his leisure. He had an apple tree growing outside his door, and when he used to be thirsty from chewing the meal, he used to put his hand into that tree and take one of the apples and eat it.
Sheila. Oh, my goodness! Peg, wasn't it nice?
Peg. Which is it; the chair or the meal or the apple, that was nice?
Sheila. The apple, to be sure.
Kate. I would prefer the meal. The apple would not take the hunger off a person.
Gob. I would prefer the chair, for I would put Peg sitting in it telling the stories.
Peg. You are good for flattery, Gobnet.
Gob. You are better for the stories, Peg. How did it go with Seadhna?
Peg. One day as he was making shoes he noticed that he had no more leather nor any more thread nor any more wax. He had the last piece on, and the last stitch put, and it was necessary for him to go and provide materials before he could make any more shoes. He set out in the morning and there were three shillings in his pocket, and he was only a mile from the house when he met a poor man asking for alms. “Give me alms for the sake of the Saviour and for the souls of your dead and for your health,” said the poor man. Seadhna gave him one shilling, and then he had but two shillings. He said to himself that possibly two shillings would do his business. He was only another mile from home when he met a poor woman, and she barefooted. “Give me some help," said she, “for the sake of the Saviour and for the souls of your dead and for your health.” He felt compassion for her and gave her a shilling, and she went away. He had one shilling then; still he went on expecting that he would meet some good fortune which would put it in his power to do his business. It was not long until he met a child and he crying with cold and hunger. “For the sake of the Saviour,” said the child, “give me something to eat.” There was a stage house near them and Seadhna went into it and he bought a loaf of bread and he brought it to the child. When the child got the bread his figure changed. He grew up very tall, and light flamed in his two eyes and in his countenance, so that Seadhna became terrified.
Sheila. Oh! God help us! Peg, I suppose poor Seadhna fainted.
Peg. He did not, but then, he was very near it. As soon as he could speak, he said, “What sort of person are you?” The answer he got was, “Seadhna, God is thankful to you. I am an angel. I am the third angel to whom you have givea alms to-day for the sake of the Saviour. And now you have three wishes to get from the God of Glory. Ask now of God any three wishes you please and you will get them. But I have one advice to give you. Don't forget Mercy.” “And do you tell me that I shall get my wish?” said Seadhna. “I do, certainly,” said the angei. “Very well,” said Seadhna. “I have a nice little soogaun chair at home, and every dalteen that comes in makes it a point to sit in it. The next person that will sit in it, except myself, that he may cling in it!” “Oh, fie, fie! Seadhna,” said the angel; “there is a beautiful wish gone without good. You have two more. Don't forget Mercy!” “I have,” said Seadhna, “a little malvogue of meal at home, and every dalteen that comes in makes it a point to stick his fist into it. The next person that puts his hand into that malvogue, except myself, that he may cling in it, see!” “Oh, Seadhna, Seadhna, my son, you have not an atom of sense! you have now but one wish more. Ask the Mercy of God for your soul.” “Oh, that’s true for you,” said Seadhna, “I was near forgetting it. I have a little apple-tree near my door and every dalteen that comes the way makes it a point to put up his hand and to pluck an apple and carry it with him. The next other person, except myself, that will put his hand into that tree, that he may cling in it!—Oh! people!” said he, bursting out laughing, “is’nt it I that will have the amusement at them!”
When he came out of his laughing fits and looked up, the angel was gone. He made his reflection for a considerable time, and at long last he said to himself, “See now, there is not a fool in Ireland greater than I! If there were three people stuck by this time, one in the chair, one in the malvogue and one in the tree, what good would that do for me and I far from home, without food, without drink, without money?”
No sooner had he that much talk uttered than he observed opposite him, in the place where the angel had been, a long slight black man and he staring at him, and electric fire coming out of his two eyes in venomous sparks. There were two horns on him, as there would be on a he-goat, and a long, coarse, greyish-blue beard, a tail, as there would be on a fox, and a hoof on one of his feet like a bull’s hoof. Seadhna’s mouth and his two eyes opened wide upon him, and his speech stopped. After a while the black man spoke: “Seadhna,” said he, “you need not have any dread of me. I am not bent on your harm. I should wish to do you some good if you would accept my advice. I heard you just now say that you were without food, without drink, wlthout money. I would give you money enough on one little condition.” “And, torture through the middle of your lungs!” said Seadhna, as soon as he got his talk, “could you not say that much without paralysing a person with your staring, whoever you are?” “You need not care who I am; bnt I will give you as much money now as will buy as much leather as will keep you working for thirteen years, on this condition, that you will come with me then.”
“And if I make the bargain with you, whither shall we go at that time?” “Will it not be time enough for you to ask that question when the leather is used up and we will be starting?” “You are sharp-witted. Have your way. Let us see the money.” “You are sharp-witted. Look!” The black man put his hand into his pocket, and drew out a large purse, and from the purse he let out on his palm a little heap of beautiful yellow gold.
