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Updated: June 21, 2025
There is a hole under a tree in the south-east of the field. Try what you will find in that hole." "I'll do that," said Meehawl. "Did you ever-" "I did not," said the Philosopher. So Meehawl MacMurrachu went away and did as he had been bidden, and underneath the tree of Gort na Cloca Mora he found a little crock of gold. "There's a power of washboards in that," said he.
They afflicted Meehawl with an extraordinary attack of rheumatism and his wife with an equally virulent sciatica, but they got no lasting pleasure from their groans. The Leprecaun, who had been detailed to visit the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath, duly arrived at the cottage in the pine wood and made his complaint.
They found that Meehawl, who understood the customs of the Earth Folk very well, had buried the crock of gold beneath a thorn bush, thereby placing it under the protection of every fairy in the world the Leprecauns themselves included, and until it was removed from this place by human hands they were bound to respect its hiding-place, and even guarantee its safety with their blood.
But, broadly speaking, if daughters have to be curtailed I prefer your method of losing them rather than the religio-hysterical compromises of the Orient." "I give you my word, sir," said Meehawl, "that I don't know what you are talking about at all."
"Throughout nature the female tends to polygamy." "If," said Meehawl, "that unfortunate daughter of mine is lying dead in a ditch " "It doesn't matter," said the Philosopher. "Many races have endeavoured to place some limits to this increase in females.
The Philosopher pointed out that her age, her appearance, and her tongue were sufficient guarantees of immunity against the machinations of either Pan or slander, and that he had no personal feelings in the matter beyond a scientific and benevolent interest in the troubles of Meehawl MacMurrachu; but this was discounted by his wife as the malignant and subtle tactics customary to all husbands.
"Maybe I could," said the Philosopher; "are you listening?" "I am," said Meehawl MacMurrachu. The Philosopher drew his chair closer to the visitor until their knees were jammed together. He laid both his hands on Meehawl MacMurrachu's knees "Washing is an extraordinary custom," said he.
"Do you tell me so?" said Meehawl. "I do," said the Philosopher, "and for this reason-most of the races of the world have at one time or another " "It's my little daughter, Caitilin, sir," said Meehawl. "I'm attending to her," the Philosopher replied. "I thank you kindly," returned Meehawl.
Life runs to death as to its goal, and we should go towards that next stage of experience either carelessly as to what must be, or with a good, honest curiosity as to what may be." "There's not much fun in being dead, sir," said Meehawl. "How do you know?" said the Philosopher. "I know well enough," replied Meehawl.
So Caitilin Ni Murrachu arose and went with him through the fields, and she did not go with him because of love, nor because his words had been understood by her, but only because he was naked and unashamed. IT was on account of his daughter that Meehawl MacMurrachu had come to visit the Philosopher.
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