Page:The Folk-Lore Journal Volume 1 1883.djvu/378

 370 "A Waif" is taken from an account written just after the occurrence. That of Phulloo Kooree is an account of what happened not long ago on the estate of a neighbour, who has kindly furnished the particulars, The story of "A Ryet" actually took place in the neighbouring city, and the details were supplied by a Government official. The Irish tale was related circumstantially by the person to whom it occurred, some thirty years ago, in Ireland.

"One cold morning in December we drove some distance from our camp, to look on at a Volunteer drill which was to take place on the parade-ground. We had mistaken the hour, and found that the only occupants of the parade-ground were a flock of sheep. It was early, the sun's rays were just glinting across the river, the air was keen, and our dogs evidently thought a good gambol was the right way to begin the day. Before we could stop them, they were busy scattering the sheep in all directions; and it was only when a frightened wail went up from a snug bundle of rags close to us that we realised the sheep had a guardian. The dogs were called off, and the coachman was told to give some few copper pice to the poor mite. This he proceeded to do, accompanying the gift with the amusing injunction, 'Cry again, little one, and you'll get something more.' We walked up to see what manner of small creature it was to whom this advice was given. The pinched little face and shivering form of a small girl of six or eight met our gaze. She was busy folding her thin, white rags, trying to gather them up into a skirt round her poor little waist; and it was piteous to see the trembling little fingers trying to make the wretched rag of a cloth take the proper folds. She wore, as a protection from the cold, an old piece of sacking falling from her head to her heels, tattered and full of holes. When asked the cause of her tears, she pointed to her swollen, small feet, and said they pained her. They were badly swollen and puffed. We asked what had happened to them; how had they become so bad? Looking up, she answered at once, that some one had cast the evil eye upon her. Nothing loth, sitting shivering beneath her sacking cloak, she promptly answered the many questions that were put to her, and described what had happened. ' One evening while she was tending her sheep, an old man with a long white beard—and her small hands were stretched out