Long Cromachy of the Crows.
By Seumas MacManus.
Author of "A Lad of the O'Friels," "Donegal Fairy Stories," "The Leadin' Road to Donegal," etc.
T is concerning Dark Patrick from Donegal full as much as, or maybe more than, Long Cromachy of the Crows, this tale is. But that will rightify itself. It was why he was called Long Cromachy by raison that he used to be past the or'nary tall—afore the years bent him. It was Crooked Cromachy that he was beginning to go by now among a share of the people. Long Cromachy had been a quare man all his days—not at all like no other man. He didn't attend the worship of the nation, and never acknowledged no religion; but he lived all his days, lee-alone, in his little cabin, among a thick grove of trees that the light of day could hardly get through by reason of the tops of them being built up from one end to the other with the nests of a rookery of crows that arrived there the tarrible stormy night he was born—from where no man knew—and that never left till the wild night that he died. All alone in his little house inunder this rookery lived Cromachy all of his days, supporting himself, as it seemed to the world, by working his little patch of land. But there was many and many's the one would be telling you that it was more by the crows he was supported; for that when they foraged far and near the burden of what they brought home was dropped down Cromachy's chimley to feed him. For three score of years no man had ever got into his house, and no man wanted to go, moreover, and no man could rightly say how he lived or how he done. Neither did any man, or any woman either, care much for making talk on the matter, for his neighbours lived in holy dread of Cromachy and his curse, and even them that had the breadth of Ireland betwixt themselves and him didn't care to mention Cromachy's name above a loud whisper.
For Cromachy was a terror, and his name a name of fear within the four seas of Ireland by reason that he had the gift of cursing. He had the power of praying a bad prayer upon every man and thing within the bounds of the kingdom, and whatever ill he prophesied for them was as sure to come as summer's long day. And whenever he did curse a man or thing, there was a crow left the rookery, followed the curse, and stood by that man or thing till the ill-fortune prophesied for them was fulfilled. When a single crow of Cromachy's was seen flying over the land, terror struck the heart of every mortal who lifted an eye and looked at it, and that mortal prayed to God then, if he never prayed in his life afore, that Cromachy's crow might wing its way at least past him and his—and when it was safe past he put up a fresh prayer for the unfortunate that it flew to.
At that time Ireland was reigned over by a King called Conall. He had three sons that were to him the apple of his eye, and whom he dreamt big things of. He doted upon these boys, and his heart was within them, and if anything happened to one of them the world well knew that the heart of King Conall would burst. And it is the sad calamity for the nation that would be, for Conall was just and kind beyond the custom of kings, and a real father to his people, who worshipped the ground he walked upon and who never could outlive their grief if calamity overcame their beloved King.
It is small wonder the father should love the boys, for Conall and Donall and Taig (which was their names) were fine brave boys surely, as boys go. Witless, of course, as youngsters will be, and maybe a bit harum-scarum. They were fond, to be sure, of their antics and tricks—as what young fellow will not be who has more to eat than he has to do? But it must be said that the tricks were never mean or hurtful ones—no worse than would be worked by hot-blooded young fellows whose hearts were light and fancies free, and a deal of the dare-devil running in their veins.
But behold ye! Didn't it unfortunately fall out one night that their evil star tempted them to play a trick upon Long Cromachy of the Crows? They went through his rookery, where the foot of man had not been
Vol. xxx.—50.
