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 408 and you know there is a valley that runs between the two, in which you may be sure, at all times of the year, to find more stones than potatoes, and more weeds than turnips. Now, all this you know as well, and may be better, than myself that is telling it to you; but there is one thing about the two places that, may be, you do not know; and that is, that in the ancient times both Tory Hill and Rahar were great huge fortifications of those thieving, murdering, inhuman, and unchristian pagans, the Danes. Well! there is another thing that, perhaps, you did not know before, and that is, that between Tory Hill and Rahar the Danes had constructed a subterranean passage; and they had two reasons for making it—first, because it was easier for them to make; caves under ground at Rahar than at Tory Hill, by reason of the latter being nothing from its base to its top but a solid rock; and next because, whichever of the two places should come to be attacked by the Irish, the Danes could bring together to the same spot the fighting men of both fortifications; and, then, if they were to be beaten in the one fort, they had still another to retreat to. Oh! it’s they—the Danes—that were the cunning, artful set of villains! and it is no wonder—they were so ’cute—that they were able to hold out for so many centuries against the poor innocent Irish who, in their simplicity, could do nothing but knock out Danish brains when they had an opportunity, and never stop cursing them when either beaten or bamboozled by them.

“Well, now, seeing how Tory Hill and Rahar are situated in regard to one another, you will easily understand that, though Tory Hill was the most conspicuous-looking of the two fortifications, and that the cunning Danes seemed to think a deal more of its possession than of the other, still the fact was that the place that was really important to them was Rahar, because it was there they had stored not only the best part of their provisions for both fortifications, in case of their being besieged, but also because it was there they preserved all their plunder—the gold and silver and diamonds and emeralds and pearls, with all the gold crosses, chalices, and priests’ vestments, they had robbed out of every Irish church, monastery, and convent they ever got inside of. There was, in fact, no end to the wealth, grandeur, and riches these thieves of the world had stored up in the caves of Rahar. And, only think of their artifices and ’cuteness! the better to conceal this wealth, they did not hide it in trunks, but put it in places that an honest pious Irishman would never think of seeking after it—and that is—in stone coffins! It’s the truth I am telling you—as you will find when I come to the end of my story. And what is more—the diabolical villains! as I know to my cost—they buried their gold and silver with such powerful enchantments cast around them, that if by any chance they came to be discovered in the day-time the contents of the coffins would appear to be—what they were not—bones, stones, and ashes; and would never appear to be—what they really are—the finest of yellow gold, and the brightest of purest silver. My curse upon the Danes!—dead and alive! here and hereafter!—for it is I that am the heavy loser by their vile witchcraft.

“And, now, after all this long preamble, I am coming to the pith of my story, and as to how the O’Donnells first went to Spain.

“You see just near to the top of Rahar Hill there is a small white house—as white as snow—so white, you would fancy it was whitewashed every Monday morning in the year. Not at all. It is made of white stones, and as it looks now, so did it appear fifty years ago, when I first went to live in it. That is my house, and it was from that very house the first O’Donnell ever went to Spain. And the way that it all happened was this—just as I am going to tell you.

“For hundreds upon hundreds of years the Danes and the Irish were fighting with one another. The Danes were trying to hold their grip on the country, and the Irish were trying to drive them out of it. At last the Irish succeeded. The Danes were broken, horse and foot, and all that the remnant of them could do, to save their lives, was to sail away to Denmark as fast as they were able. They could not take with them the plunder they had stored in Rahar; but, in order to conceal from the Irish the treasures they were leaving, they first of all stopped up the subterranean passage between Tory Hill and Rahar. They left the walls standing in the one place, and destroyed them in the other; and in lieu of them built up that white house, and put into it an old Danish woman and her young grand-daughter, well knowing that the Irish were too polite, kind-hearted, and good-natured, ever to molest an old woman that was too ugly for any one to wish to look twice at her, and a little girl that already promised to be so pretty that a king might, in time, pay court to her.

“Now, do you know the reason for the Danes doing this? Of course you don’t, and therefore I will tell you. Once a Dane has laid his hand upon anything—no matter what it is—a guinea, a shilling, a silver spoon, or an acre of land, he reckons that it is his—his alone—and belongs to him from the first clutch he has made of it until the Day of Judgment; and, supposing the rightful owner takes it away from him, still the Dane never forgoes his claim on it, but acts in such a way as if he believed that if he does not live to get it, still his son or grandson or some one descending from him, though it was centuries from the present time, will again come into possession of it. That I may never sin! but I am told there are Danes now living in Copenhagen who can show you what they call ‘their title-deeds’ to lands that belong to Captain Bryan of Jenkinstown, and Mr. Tighe of Woodstock, and the Marquis of Ormonde in Kilkenny, time out of mind—aye! and to lands that have been confiscated three times over, and have had forty different owners—Normans, Anglo-Irish, Cromwellians, English, Scotch, and Welsh, and Lord knows what besides!—since the Danes were in this country.

“Well! that being the way of thinking with the Danes, so far as concerns anything, and everything they have once laid their unlucky paws upon; it is easy seeing, they would do their best,