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73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page iii

Beginning
Expression®Web

Zak Ruvalcaba
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page ii
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page i

Beginning
Expression®Web
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page ii
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page iii

Beginning
Expression®Web

Zak Ruvalcaba
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page iv

Beginning Expression®Web
Published by
Wiley Publishing, Inc.
10475 Crosspoint Boulevard
Indianapolis, IN 46256
www.wiley.com
Copyright © 2007 by Wiley Publishing, Inc., Indianapolis, Indiana
Published simultaneously in Canada
ISBN: 978-0-470-07315-5
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available from the publisher.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form
or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as
permitted under Sections 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior
written permission of the Publisher, or authorization through payment of the appropriate per-copy
fee to the Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923, (978) 750-8400, fax
(978) 646-8600. Requests to the Publisher for permission should be addressed to the Legal Department,
Wiley Publishing, Inc., 10475 Crosspoint Blvd., Indianapolis, IN 46256, (317) 572-3447, fax (317) 572-4355,
or online at http://www.wiley.com/go/permissions.

LIMIT OF LIABILITY/DISCLAIMER OF WARRANTY: THE PUBLISHER AND THE AUTHOR

MAKE NO REPRESENTATIONS OR WARRANTIES WITH RESPECT TO THE ACCURACY OR
COMPLETENESS OF THE CONTENTS OF THIS WORK AND SPECIFICALLY DISCLAIM ALL
WARRANTIES, INCLUDING WITHOUT LIMITATION WARRANTIES OF FITNESS FOR A PARTI-
CULAR PURPOSE. NO WARRANTY MAY BE CREATED OR EXTENDED BY SALES OR PROMO-
TIONAL MATERIALS. THE ADVICE AND STRATEGIES CONTAINED HEREIN MAY NOT BE
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THE PUBLISHER IS NOT ENGAGED IN RENDERING LEGAL, ACCOUNTING, OR OTHER PRO-
FESSIONAL SERVICES. IF PROFESSIONAL ASSISTANCE IS REQUIRED, THE SERVICES OF A
COMPETENT PROFESSIONAL PERSON SHOULD BE SOUGHT. NEITHER THE PUBLISHER NOR
THE AUTHOR SHALL BE LIABLE FOR DAMAGES ARISING HEREFROM. THE FACT THAT AN
ORGANIZATION OR WEBSITE IS REFERRED TO IN THIS WORK AS A CITATION AND/OR A
POTENTIAL SOURCE OF FURTHER INFORMATION DOES NOT MEAN THAT THE AUTHOR
OR THE PUBLISHER ENDORSES THE INFORMATION THE ORGANIZATION OR WEBSITE MAY
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THAT INTERNET WEBSITES LISTED IN THIS WORK MAY HAVE CHANGED OR DISAPPEARED
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For general information on our other products and services please contact our Customer Care
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Trademarks: Wiley, the Wiley logo, Wrox, the Wrox logo, Programmer to Programmer, and related
trade dress are trademarks or registered trademarks of John Wiley & Sons, Inc. and/or its affiliates,
in the United States and other countries, and may not be used without written permission. Microsoft
and Expression are registered trademarks of Microsoft Corporation in the United States and/or other
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Wiley also publishes its books in a variety of electronic formats. Some content that appears in print
may not be available in electronic books.
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page v

I would like to dedicate this book to my wife, Jessica; my daughter, Makenzie; my son,
Zaven; and the newest addition to our family, my son, Zayden, for putting up with
my many faults. I love my family more than anyone can possibly know.
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page vi
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page vii

About the Author

Zak Ruvalcaba has been researching, designing, and developing for the Web since 1995. He holds a
Bachelor’s Degree from San Diego State University and a Master of Science in Instructional Technology
from National University in San Diego. He served as Creative Director with EPIC Solutions until 1998.
His expertise in developing Web applications led him to a position as Manager of Web Development
at SkyDesk, Inc., where he developed Web applications for such companies as Gateway, HP, Toshiba,
IBM, Intuit, Peachtree, Dell, and Microsoft. He’s worked for such companies as ADCS Inc. and Wireless
Knowledge as a wireless software engineer developing .NET solutions for companies including Mellon
Financial, Goldman Sachs, TV Guide, Healthbanks, Gartner, Inc., Microsoft, Qualcomm, and Commerce
One. Currently, he holds a position with MiraCosta College in Oceanside, California, supporting
internal and external .NET applications. His skill set includes technologies and languages including
(X)HTML, XML, JavaScript, CSS, ASP, ASP.NET, VB.NET, C#, ADO.NET, Web Services, SQL, T-SQL,
and ActionScript. He is a Macromedia Certified Professional (MMCP), a Microsoft Certified Applica-
tion Developer for .NET (MCAD), and a Microsoft Certified Solutions Developer for .NET (MCSD).
He teaches and holds design lectures on various technologies and tools including Dreamweaver,
Flash, ASP.NET, ADO.NET, and Web Services for the San Diego Community College District and
Palomar College.
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page viii
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page ix

Credits
Senior Acquisitions Editor Vice President and Executive Group Publisher
Jim Minatel Richard Swadley

Development Editor Vice President and Executive Publisher

Kevin Shafer Joseph B. Wikert

Technical Editors Compositor

Gregory Beamer and Spike Xavier Laurie Stewart, Happenstance Type-O-Rama

Copy Editor Proofreader

Nancy Rapoport Ian Golder

Editorial Manager Indexer

Mary Beth Wakefield Robert Swanson

Production Manager Anniversary Logo Design

Tim Tate Richard Pacifico
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page x
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page xi

Acknowledgments

Writing a book is a tremendous effort and takes dedication and patience from all who are involved. A
sincere “Thank you” to my Acquisitions Editor, Jim Minatel, for being on top of this book and for ensur-
ing that Beginning Expression Web is one of the first Expression Web books to market. I’d also like to thank
Kevin Shafer, Tim Tate, Spike Xavier, and Greg Beamer for their diligence toward making this book a
success.
73155ffirs.qxd 1/24/07 9:07 PM Page xii
73155ftoc.qxd 1/25/07 1:39 PM Page xiii

Contents

Acknowledgments xi
Introduction xxi

Chapter 1: Introducing Microsoft Expression Web 1

Familiarizing Yourself with the Interface 2
The Menu Bar 5
The Development Window 7
The Development Area 8
The Tabbed File Chooser 10
Show Design, Split, and Code View 10
The Quick Tag Selector 11
Task Panes 13
Toolbars 16
Context Menus 19
Summary 20

Chapter 2: Building a Web Page 21

Creating a New Web Page 21
Setting Page Properties 24
General Properties 24
Formatting Properties 26
Advanced Properties 27
Custom Properties 28
Language Properties 29
Working with Text 29
Copying, Pasting, and Inserting Text from an External Source 30
Line Breaks and Paragraph Breaks 33
Applying Headings 35
Choosing a Font 37
Setting a Font Size 39
Text Styles 40
Text Alignment and Indentations 42
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Contents
Working with Lists 43
Highlighting and Setting the Text Color 45
Applying Borders 47
Inserting a Horizontal Line 49
Checking the Spelling of a Web Page 50
Previewing Your Web Page in the Browser 53
Summary 56
Exercise 56

Chapter 3: Working with Web Sites 57

The Importance of Working with Web Sites 58
Creating a New Web Site 59
Working with the Folder List Task Pane 62
Creating New Folders and Pages 62
Setting the Home Page 65
Renaming and Deleting Files 66
Modifying Site Settings 66
General Settings 67
Preview in Browser Settings 67
Advanced Settings 68
Language Settings 68
Database Settings 69
Publishing Your Web Site 69
The Publish Web Site Dialog 69
Using the Copy Web Site Window 82
Deploying Web Sites with Personal Web Packages 87
Summary 90
Exercise 90

Chapter 4: Working with Images, Media, and Hyperlinks 93

Inserting Images into Your Web Page 94
Setting General Picture Properties 96
Using the Tag Properties Task Pane to Modify Image Properties 100
Using the Pictures Toolbar to Modify Image Properties 103
Editing an Image with Microsoft Office Picture Manager 106
Changing the Picture File Type 109
Linking Pages Within Your Web Site 110
Linking Text and Images to an Existing Web Page 111
Linking to a Bookmark within a Web Page 114
Linking to an E-mail Address 116
Creating Multiple Links Within an Image 117

xiv
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Contents
Using Interactive Buttons 120
Managing Web Site Hyperlinks 124
Summary 126
Exercise 127

Chapter 5: Page Formatting Using Cascading Style Sheets 129

Introduction to Cascading Style Sheets 130
CSS Versus HTML 133
Working with CSS in Expression Web 135
Defining How CSS Is Created and Applied Within Expression Web 135
Defining Classes Within an External Style Sheet — Creating a Style Rule 138
Applying Styles by Using the Apply Styles Task Pane and Style Toolbar 152
Managing Styles with the CSS Properties and Manage Styles Task Panes 157
Designing Styles by Redefining HTML Tags 159
Using Contextual Selectors 160
Attaching Existing Style Sheets to Web Pages 164
Working with CSS Reports 165
Summary 166
Exercise 166

Chapter 6: Web Page Structuring Techniques by Using Tables 169

Inserting and Working with Tables 170
Selecting Table Elements 175
Modifying Table Properties 176
Formatting Tables Using Table AutoFormat 190
Inserting and Working with Layout Tables 192
Drawing Tables 193
Drawing Cells 198
Summary 200
Exercise 201

Chapter 7: Advanced Page Structuring Techniques by Using

Layers and CSS 203
Introduction to Layers 204
Working with Layers 205
Inserting a Layer 205
Inserting Content into Layers 207
Modifying Layer Properties with the Positioning Toolbar 209
Modifying Layer Properties with the Layers Task Pane 209
Drawing a Layer 211

xv
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Contents
Nesting Layers 212
Adding Borders and Shading to Layers 214
Deleting a Layer 217
Designing Table-less Web Sites by Using Layers and CSS 218
Designing Layers Using a Style Sheet 218
Inserting DIV Tags 223
Working with Contextual Selectors 226
Summary 227
Exercise 229

Chapter 8: Adding Interactivity with Behaviors 231

Adding Client-Side Interactivity with Behaviors 232
The Call Script Behavior 238
The Change Property and Change Property Restore Behaviors 238
The Check Browser Behavior 243
The Check Plug-in Behavior 244
The Go To URL Behavior 245
The Jump Menu and Jump Menu Go Behaviors 246
The Open Browser Window Behavior 248
The Play Sound Behavior 250
The Preload Images Behavior 251
The Set Text Behaviors 252
The Swap Image and Swap Image Restore Behaviors 252
Summary 254
Exercise 255

Chapter 9: Working with HTML Forms and Form Controls 257

An Introduction to HTML Forms 257
Working with Forms and Form Controls 260
Input (Text) and Input (Password) 264
Text Area 266
Input (Checkbox) 268
Input (Radio) 268
Drop-Down Box 270
Input (Button), Input (Submit), and Input (Reset) 273
Testing the Form 274
Other Controls to Consider 275
Summary 282
Exercise 282

xvi
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Contents

Chapter 10: Introduction to Web Application Development 285

Terminology 286
Introduction to Web Applications 288
Client-Side Technologies 290
The Web Server 291
Installing IIS 293
Expression Web’s Built-In Web Server 296
Configuring the Web Server in Expression Web 296
Server-Side Technologies 298
.NET and the .NET Framework 298
Installing the .NET Framework and ASP.NET 299
Creating a Simple ASP.NET Page 301
Expression Web’s ASP.NET Integration 303
The Database 305
Database Options 307
The Vecta Corp Database 309
The Structured Query Language 312
The Dynamic Vecta Corp Web Site 313
Summary 314

Chapter 11: Accessing and Displaying Database Data 315

Connecting to a Data Source 316
Connecting to an Access Database 318
Attaching your SQL Server 2005 Express Edition Database 321
Building the Download Patches Page 323
Using DataSource Controls 324
Using List Bound Controls 328
Using Data Controls 331
Summary 353
Exercise 354

Chapter 12: Inserting, Editing, and Deleting Database Data 355

Building an Administration Page 356
Configuring a Data Source Control to Allow Inserts, Updates, and Deletes 357
Working with the FormView Control 359
Modifying and Deleting Database Data Using the GridView Control 363
Summary 368
Exercise 368

xvii
73155ftoc.qxd 1/25/07 1:39 PM Page xviii

Contents
Chapter 13: Validating User Input 371
Client-Side Versus Server-Side Validation 372
Using Validation Controls 375
The RequiredFieldValidator Control 376
The CompareValidator Control 378
The RangeValidator Control 380
The ValidationSummary Control 382
The RegularExpressionValidator Control 383
The CustomValidator Control 385
Summary 387
Exercise 387

Chapter 14: Securing Your Web Applications 389

Securing the Vecta Corp Site 390
Configuring Application Services 392
Configuring Forms Authentication 394
Creating the Login Page 398
Working with Login Controls 400
Summary 412

Chapter 15: Working with XML Data 413

Introduction to XML and XSL 413
Expression Web’s Visual XML Authoring Environment 417
Creating an XML Document 418
Binding XML Data 420
Working with RSS Feeds 425
Summary 428

Chapter 16: Building Accessible and Standards-Compliant Web Sites 429

Accessibility Standards 430
Standards Resources 430
Conform with Standards 433
Checking Accessibility 437
Accessibility Reference 441
Image Tests 441
Imagemap Tests 442
Color and Style Tests 442

xviii
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Contents
Form and Scripting Tests 443
Table and Frame Tests 444
Multimedia and Applet Tests 445
Other Accessibility Tests 446
Summary 447

Index 449

xix
73155flast.qxd 1/24/07 9:08 PM Page xx
73155flast.qxd 1/24/07 9:08 PM Page xxi

Introduction

Ten years ago, when I used FrontPage for the first time, I was amazed at how far ahead of its time the
program was. The ability to work with tables, visual formatting, styles, and pinpoint accurate designs
truly amazed me. I was a skeptic when it came to visual editors, and preferred Notepad whenever
possible. FrontPage changed that in me, and made me look at Web development in a whole new light.

Still, many considered FrontPage a simple visual editor that accomplishes little but aid in the development
of static Web pages. The mindset is that visual editors lack the true complexity that it takes to create rich
and powerful Web applications that encompass client-side technologies such as HTML, CSS, and
JavaScript, while leveraging server-side technologies such as ASP.NET.

Enter Expression Web. As FrontPage’s successor, Expression Web obliterates that stigma by captivating
the developer in a vast, intuitive, and feature-rich environment. Whether you’re designing a Web site for
personal use, a government institution, or a private organization, Expression Web’s tools are geared to
aiding in the development of feature-rich, accessible, and captivating Web pages.

Who This Book Is For

If you’ve picked up this book, chances are you’re interested in the world of Web design and development
and, more specifically, how Expression Web can help you succeed in these endeavors. Whether you’re a
seasoned developer, a print designer looking to expand your base of knowledge to the Web, an existing
FrontPage user looking to see what the fuss is about, or a home user who simply aims at creating a family
Web site, Expression Web offers the features and flexibility to get you on your way quickly and effortlessly.
This book introduces you to the many features available through Expression Web.

What You Need to Use This Book

To work through and run the samples in this book, you must have the following:

❑ A computer running the Windows operating system.

❑ The .NET Framework 2.0. (The .NET Framework 2.0 will be installed along with Expression
Web. You can download it separately from http://www.asp.net.)
❑ Expression Web. (A trial version can be downloaded from Microsoft’s Web site at
http://www.microsoft.com/products/expression.)
❑ A database such as Microsoft Access or the free Microsoft SQL Server 2005 Express Edition.
❑ Internet Information Services (IIS) is needed for the validation and authentication examples in
Chapter 14, “Securing Your Web Applications.” You will also need IIS to install WebDAV as
described in Chapter 3, “Working with Web Sites.”

All of the files required for working with the examples in this book can be downloaded from our Web
site at http://www.wrox.com/dynamic/books/download.aspx.
73155flast.qxd 1/24/07 9:08 PM Page xxii

Introduction

Conventions
To help you get the most from the text and keep track of what’s happening, a number of conventions
have been used throughout the book.

Try It Out
The “Try It Out” section is an exercise you should work through, following the text in the book.

1. They usually consist of a set of steps.

2. Each step has a number.
3. Follow the steps through with your copy of the database.

Boxes like this one hold important, not-to-be forgotten information that is directly
relevant to the surrounding text.

Tips, hints, tricks, and asides to the current discussion are offset and placed in italics like this.

As for styles in the text:

❑ Important new terms and important words are highlighted when we introduce them.
❑ Keyboard strokes are shown like this: Ctrl+A.
❑ File names, URLs, and code within the text are shown like this: persistence.properties.
❑ Code is presented in the following two ways:

In code examples, we highlight new and important code with a gray background.

The gray highlighting is not used for code that’s less important in the
present context, or has been shown before.

Project F iles
As you work through the examples in this book, you will need the project files that accompany the book.
The entire set of project files used in this book is available for download at http://www.wrox.com.
Once at the site, simply locate the book’s title (either by using the Search box or by using one of the title
lists), and click the Download Code link on the book’s detail page to obtain all the project files for the book.

Because many books have similar titles, you may find it easiest to search by ISBN; for this book the
ISBN is 9780470073155.

Once you download the files, just decompress them with your favorite compression tool. Alternately, you
can go to the main Wrox code download page at http://www.wrox.com/dynamic/books/download
.aspx to see the files available for this book and all other Wrox books.

xxii
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church incense. Then he pounded some herbs and mixed a liquid
with them, but what the herbs were, no one knew. And with this
mixture he touched the brow and the lips and the hands of the man,
and sprinkled the rest over his insensible form. After this he told
them to keep silence round him for two hours, when he would return
and finish the cure. And so it happened, for in two hours the life
came back to the man, though he could not speak. But strength
came gradually; and by the next day he rose up, and said he had
dreamed a dream, and heard a voice saying to him, “Pull down the
barn, for ill-luck is on it.” Accordingly he gave orders to his men, and
every stick and stone was carried away, and the fairy rath left free
again for the fairies to dance on, as in the olden time, when they
were the gods of the earth, long before men came to dispute their
rights, and take possession of their ancient pleasure grounds—an
indignity no high-spirited fairy could calmly endure. For in their
councils they had decreed that the fairy rath, at least, should be
sacred for all time, and woe to the man who builds his house
thereon. An evil fate is on him and on the house for evermore. Down
it must come, or the evil spell will never be lifted. There is no hope
for it, for the most dangerous and subtle of all enemies is an angry
fairy.
Nor should the paths even be crossed by work of human hand,
which the fairies traverse from one palace to another. Their line of
march must not be impeded. Finvarra and his men would resent
such a gross insult to the royal fairy rights, and severely punish the
audacious and offending mortal. Not even the Grand Jury would be
allowed to interfere, for if they did, every man of them would be
demolished in some way or other by fairy power.

THE FAIRY RATH.

The fairies, beside being revengeful, are also very arrogant, and
allow no interference with their old-established rights.
 There is a rath in the Queen’s County, only four yards in diameter,
but held so sacred as the fairies’ dancing ground that no one dared
to remove a handful of earth from the mound; and at night the
sweetest low music may be heard floating round the hill, as if played
by silver bagpipes.
One evening a boy lay down on the rath to listen to the music,
and, without thinking, began to gather up balls of the clay and fling
them hither and thither in sport, when suddenly he was struck down
by a violent blow and became senseless.
There he was found by his people, who went to search for him;
and when he came to himself he bleated like a calf, and it was a
long time before he recovered his reason, for the power of the fairies
is great, and none can resist it.
 THE HOLY WELLS
There is no superstition stronger in Ireland than a belief in the
curative power of the sacred wells that are scattered over the
country; fountains of health and healing which some saint had
blessed, or by which some saint had dwelt in the far-off ancient
times. But well-worship is even older than Christianity. It is part of
the early ritual of humanity, brought from the Eastern lands by the
first Aryan tribes who migrated westward, passing along from the
Mediterranean to the Atlantic shores.
The Delphic oracle in its origin was nothing more than a holy well,
shadowed by trees, on which were hung the votive offerings of the
praying peasants, long before the rival kings brought to the sacred
spot their votive tributes of silver and gold, and crowns of precious
stones.
In Ireland the beautiful, picturesque, and tree-shadowed wells of
the country were held sacred by the Druid priests, as is evident from
the many remarkable Druidical remains that have been found in their
vicinity—ruins of temples and pillar-stones, and stones with strange
carvings. Much also of the ancient Druidic ceremonial has been
preserved by the people, such as the symbolic dances, the traditions
of sun-worship, and other pagan rites, which were incorporated into
the Christian ritual of well-worship by the early converts, and are still
retained, though, through the lapse of ages, they have entirely lost
their original significance, and are now only practised as ancient
customs, for which the Irish have great reverence, as having come
down to them from their forefathers. The ceremonial is the same at
all these places of devout pilgrimage. The pilgrims go round the well
a certain number of times, either three or nine, creeping on their
hands and knees, but always from east to west, following the
apparent motion of the sun, and reciting paters and aves all the
time. At the close of each round they build up a small pile of stones;
for at the last day the angels will reckon these stones, and he who
has said the most prayers will have the highest place in heaven,
each saint keeping count for his own votaries. The patient then
descends the broken steps to the well and, kneeling down, bathes
his forehead and hands in the water, after which oblation the pain or
disease he suffered from will be gradually removed, and depart from
him for evermore.
At some wells there is often a rude stone monument of the
ancient times, and the eyes of the pilgrim must be kept steadily
fixed on it while reciting the prayers.
Whenever a white-thorn or an ash-tree shadows the place, the
well is held to be peculiarly sacred; and on leaving, having first
drunk of the water, the patient ties a votive offering to the branches
—generally a coloured handkerchief or a bright red strip cut from a
garment; and these offerings are never removed. They remain for
years fluttering in the wind and the rain, just as travellers have
described the votive offerings on the sacred trees that shadow the
holy wells of Persia. They are signs and tokens of gratitude to the
patron saint, and are meant to show the devil that he has no longer
power to harm the praying pilgrim, or torment him with pains and
aches as heretofore. It is not supposed that the water of the well
has any natural medicinal properties. The curative efficacy is wholly
due to the observance of the ritual in honour of the saint, whose
spirit and influence is still over the well, by which he lived, and of
which he drank while living on the earth.

THE WHITE STONES.

At many of the wells quantities of beautiful white stones are found

that glitter in the sun, and these are highly esteemed by the pilgrims
to build up their prayer monuments.
 One day some women were eagerly collecting these stones, after
each round of praying, in order to build up a monument; when
suddenly a strain of soft, exquisite music seemed to rise up from the
water and float by them. In their joy and wonder the women
clapped their hands and laughed aloud, when instantly the music
ceased and the pile of stones fell down. By which sign they knew
that they should not have laughed while the angels were singing;
and they fell on their knees and prayed.

A holy well once lost all its power because a murder had been
committed near it; and another because it was cursed by a priest in
consequence of the immorality that prevailed at the patterns.

THE SACRED TROUT.

The water of the sacred well must never be used for household
purposes—cooking, washing, or the like. But after the well was
cursed by the priest, and the tents were struck, and no pattern was
held there any longer, it lost all its sanctity, and was no longer held
sacred by the people, who began to fill their pails, and carry the
water away home for cooking and household use; while also they all
washed their clothes down at the well, just as if no sanctity had ever
been in the water.
However, one day a woman having put down a pot of water to
boil, found that no amount of fire would heat it. Still it remained ice-
cold, as if just drawn from the well. So she looked carefully into the
pot, and there beheld the Sacred Speckled Trout sailing round and
round quite contented and happy. On seeing this, she knew that the
curse was lifted from the well, and she ran and told the priest. His
reverence having seen the Sacred Trout with his own eyes, ordered
it to be carried back to the well, the water of which at once regained
all its sacred powers by the blessing of the priest; and he gave the
people leave thenceforth to hold their pattern there, so as they
behaved themselves like decent, God-fearing Christians for the
future. But the water was not allowed to be carried away any more
to their houses for household purposes; the desecration of the holy
water of a sacred well being strictly forbidden as dangerous and
unlucky.

ST. AUGUSTINE’S WELL.

At a holy well in the south, dedicated to St. Augustine, the friars
began to build a convent. And during all the hours of work bells
were heard ringing sweetly and voices singing; but one day a
woman came and washed her feet in the water of the well, and
thereupon all the bells ceased and the singing stopped, and the
work could not go on. So the friars chose another site, and they
drew a circle round it, within which no woman was to set her foot;
and after this the bells began to ring again and the voices sang, and
the work went on safely till the convent was completed in the name
of God and St. Augustine; but no woman during all that time ever
set foot on the holy ground.

THE GRILLED TROUT.

In Sligo there is a well called Tober-na-alt, beautifully shadowed
by trees, the branches of which are thickly hung with all sorts of
votive offerings from those who have been cured by the water; and
miracle-men attended, who professed to heal diseases by charms,
prayers, and incantations.
A man who had been born blind once recited his experiences
there. “Oh, Christians, look on me! I was blind from my birth and
saw no light till I came to the blessed well; now I see the water and
the speckled trout down at the bottom, with the white cross on his
back. Glory be to God for the cure.” And when the people heard that
he could really see the speckled trout, of course they all believed in
the miracle. For a tradition exists that a sacred trout has lived there
from time immemorial, placed in the well by the saint who first
sanctified the water. Now there was an adventurous man who
desired much to get possession of this trout, and he watched it till at
last he caught it asleep. Then he carried it off and put it on the
gridiron. The trout bore the grilling of one side very patiently; but
when the man tried to turn it on the fire, the trout suddenly jumped
up and made off as hard as it could back to the well, where it still
lives, and can be seen at times by those who have done proper
penance and paid their dues to the priest, with one side all streaked
and marked brown by the bars of the gridiron, which can never be
effaced.

LEGEND OF NEAL-MOR.
There is a great hole or well near the river Suir, always filled with
water, whose depth no man has yet fathomed. Near it is a castle,
which in old times belonged to a powerful chief called Neal-mor. One
day while his servants were saving the hay, a violent tempest of
wind and rain came on, which quite destroyed the crop. Then Neal-
mor was filled with rage, and he mounted his horse and drew his
sword, and rode forth to the field; and there he challenged the Lord
God Himself to battle. And he swung his sword round his head and
struck at the air, as if he would kill and slay the Great Invisible Spirit.
On which suddenly a strange thing happened, for a great whirlwind
arose and the earth opened, and Neal-mor, still astride on his horse
and with his sword in his hand, was lifted high up into the air and
then cast down alive into the great hole, called Poul-mor, which may
be seen to this day, and the castle is still standing by the margin. But
no trace of Neal-mor or his steed was ever again beheld. They
perished utterly by the vengeance of God.
But some time after his disappearance, a rude stone figure seated
on a horse, was cast up out of the earth; and then all men knew the
fate of the terrible chief who had braved the wrath of God, for here
was his image and the sign of his destruction. The stone figure is
still preserved at the castle, and tradition says that if it were
removed, the whole castle would crumble to pieces in a single night
and be cast into the Poul-mor.

ST. JOHN’S WELL.

At St. John’s well, County Cork, there is a large stone, believed to
be the real true head of John the Baptist, grown hard and solid from
time and the action of the elements. And the stone has certainly a
rude resemblance to a human head.
Suspected persons are brought to swear on it for a clearing from
guilt; for it is held in high reverence. Compacts are also made there,
which are held inviolate, for no one who swears with his hand on the
stone, would ever dream of breaking the oath, and each person
present as witness scratches a cross on the surface with a sharp
piece of slate.
A number of pagan remains are in the vicinity, but they are now
held in reverence as places of Christian sanctity.
Some time ago an ancient stone image was dug up from the
earth, which antiquarians pronounced to be a pagan idol, probably
the Irish Siva. This was at first consecrated as Saint Gobnath, but
afterwards the priest destroyed the image with his own hands.
All the paths round the well are marked deep by the lines of
praying pilgrims who go round it on their knees. And there are piles
of the little stones that mark the prayers of the penitents, all ready
for the angels to count. Most of the stones are of pure quartz, white
and glistening, and these are highly esteemed.

THE WELL OF FIONN MA-COUL.

The ancient churches and cells of the saints were generally placed
in the vicinity of a well, which then became sanctified and endowed
with miraculous healing power. Or the well may have been held
sacred by the Druids, and the scene of their pagan rites; therefore
selected by the saint specially as his dwelling-place, so that he might
bring it under the fosterage and holy influence of Christianity.
The grave of the great Fionn was laid by a celebrated well in the
County Cork, and it is certain that a massive human jawbone was
found there not long ago, far exceeding in size the bones of the
present race of men. This jawbone was sent to London to be
inspected by the learned philosophers, but was never returned—a
great and grievous wrong to the renowned Irish chief, for no doubt
the mighty Fionn will want it badly at the last day, when he is
gathering up his bones to appear before the Lord.

ST. SEENAN’S WELL.

There is a place on the shore of Scattery Island, where, according
to the most ancient tradition, a sacred well once existed, with
miraculous curative powers. But no one could ever discover the
place, for at high water the sea covered every point up to the edge
of the land, and the shifting sand made all efforts to find the locality
of the well vain and fruitless.
 But one day a young man who was lame in both legs from the
effects of a fall, and much disabled in consequence, was going along
the shore with some companions, when he suddenly sank up to his
waist in the sand. With much difficulty, and after a long while, his
comrades managed to haul him up, when to their amazement they
found that his legs were now quite straight, and he stood up before
them four inches taller than before he sank down into the sand.
So at once they knew that the sacred well must have worked the
cure, and they dug and dug and cleared away the sand, till at last
they came on some ancient steps, and down below lay the well,
clear and fresh, and untouched by the salt of the sea, the holy well
of St. Seenan, that their fathers and forefathers had vainly looked
for.
Now there was great rejoicing in the country when the news
spread; and all the people from far and near who had pains and
ailments rushed off to the well and drank of the waters and poured
libations of it over their persons, wherever the pain or the disease
lay, and in a short time wonderful cures were effected. So next day
still greater crowds arrived to try their good luck. But when they
came to the place, not a vestige of the well could be found. The
sand and the sea had covered all, and from that day to this the holy
well of St. Seenan has never been seen by mortal eyes.

KIL-NA-GREINA.
Tober Kil-na-Greina (the well of the fountain of the sun) was
discovered only about eighty years ago, by a strange chance in the
County Cork.
The land was a desolate marsh, no one built on it, and nothing
grew on it or near it. But a large grey stone lay there, with a natural
hollow in the centre that would hold about a gallon of water, and
close by were the remains of an old pagan fort.
One day, the farmer who owned the land carried off this great
grey stone to use as a drinking trough for his cattle. But not long
after all the cattle grew sick, and then all the children sickened, so
the farmer said there was ill luck in the business, and he carried
back the stone to its old place, on which all the household recovered
their health. Thereupon the farmer began to think there must be
something wonderful and mysterious in the locality, so he had the
marsh thoroughly drained, after which process they came upon an
ancient stone circle, and in the midst was a well of beautiful fresh
water. Some people said there was writing on the stones, and
strange carvings; but it was generally believed to be a Druid temple
and oracle, for there was a tradition that a woman called the Ban-
na-Naomha (the nymph of the well) had once lived there—and that
she had the gift of prophecy, and uttered oracles to those who
sought her at the shrine by the well; and there was a little wooden
image of her, also, that used to speak to the people—so it was said
and believed. It is certain, however, that a pagan temple once
existed there, for which reason St. Patrick cursed the land and
turned it into a marsh, and the well was hidden for a thousand
years, according to St. Patrick’s word.
On the discovery of the well the whole country flocked to it for
cures. Tents were erected and a pattern was organized, which went
on for some years with great success, and many authentic instances
are recorded of marvellous miracles performed there.
The ritual observed was very strict at the beginning, three
draughts of water were taken by the pilgrims, the number of drinks
three, the number of rounds on their knees were three, thus making
the circuit of the well nine times. After each round the pilgrim laid a
stone on the ancient altar in the Druid circle, called “the well of the
sun,” and these stones, named in Irish “the stones of the sun,” are
generally pure white, and about the size of a pigeon’s egg. They
have a beautiful appearance after rain when the sun shines on them,
and were doubtless held sacred to the sun in pagan times. The
angels will reckon these stones at the last day, but each particular
saint will take charge of his own votaries and see that the stones are
properly counted, for each man will receive forgiveness according to
their number.
But gradually the revelry at the pattern gave occasion for so much
scandal, that the priest denounced the well from the altar, along with
all the wickedness it fostered and encouraged. Still the people would
not give up the pattern, and the drinking, and dancing, and
gambling, and fighting went on worse than ever, until one day a man
was killed. After this a curse seemed to have fallen on the place. The
well lost all its miraculous powers, no cures were effected; the
maimed, the halt, and the blind prayed before it, and went the
rounds, and piled the stones as usual, but no help came, and worst
sign of all, a great pagan stone on which a cross had been erected,
fell down of its own accord, and the cross lay shattered on the
ground. Then all the people knew that the curse of blood and of St.
Patrick was indeed over the well; so it was deserted, and the tents
were struck, and no pattern was ever held there any more, for the
virtue of healing had gone from “the fountain of the sun,” and never
has come back to it through all the years.
Even the Ban-Naomha, the nymph of the fountain, who used to
manifest herself occasionally to the regenerate under the form of a
trout, disappeared at the same time, and though she may be heard
of at other sacred wells, was never again seen by the devout
pilgrims who watched for her appearance at the Tober-kil-na-Greina.

THE WELL OF WORSHIP.

At Tober Mire, the well of the field of worship, County Cork, there
are also many pagan monuments, and it is evident that the vicinity
was one of the strongholds of the Druids in ancient times, where
they had a temple, a burial-ground, and stones for sacrifice: a much
larger population existed also round the temple than can now be
numbered in the same locality.

THE BRIDE’S WELL.

Near the last-named well is the Bride’s Well, Tober Breda (the holy
well of St. Bridget). There is a stone oratory here of fabulous
antiquity, with a doorway fashioned after the Egyptian model,
sloping towards the top; also an ancient white-thorn covered with
votive offerings, amongst which one may see many a long lock of
the splendid dark hair of the Irish southern women, who adopt this
antique traditional symbol of self-sacrifice to show their gratitude to
the patron saint.
St. Bridget took the name of the pagan goddess Brighita in order
to destroy and obliterate the idolatrous rites and transfer the
devotion of the people to the Christian ceremonies, and Tober-Breda
is now considered of the highest sanctity, being under the special
patronage of St. Bridget.
 THE IRISH FAKIR.
Many of the professional prayer-men, or Fakirs, resort to the
Tober-Breda during the pattern, and manage to obtain gifts and
contributions and all sorts of excellent things in exchange for their
prayers from the rich farmers and young girls, to whom they
promise good luck, and perhaps also a lover who will be handsome
and young.
These Irish Fakirs, or sacred fraternity of beggars, lead a pleasant,
thoroughly idle life. They carry a wallet and a staff, and being looked
on as holy men endowed with strange spiritual gifts, they are
entirely supported by the voluntary gifts of the people, who firmly
believe in the mysterious efficacy of their prayers and blessings and
prognostics of luck.
One of these Fakirs towards the end of his life was glad to find
shelter in the poor-house. He was then eighty years of age, but a
tall, erect old man, with flowing white beard and hair, keen eyes,
and of the most venerable aspect.
A gentleman who saw him there, being much struck with his
dignified and remarkable appearance, induced him to tell the story
of his life, which was marked by several strange and curious
incidents.
He said he was a farmer’s son, but from his earliest youth hated
work, and only liked to spend the long summer day lying on the
grass gazing up into the clouds dreaming and thinking where they
were all sailing to, and longing to float away with them to other
lands.
Meanwhile his father raged and swore and beat him, often cruelly,
because he would not work. But all the same, he could not bring
himself to be digging from morning to night, and herding cattle, and
keeping company only with labourers.
 So when he was about twenty he formed a plan to run away; for,
he thought, if the stupid old Fakirs who are lame and blind and deaf
find people ready to support them, all for nothing, might not he
have a better chance for getting board and lodging without work,
since he had youth and health and could tell them stories to no end
of the great old ancient times.
So one night he quitted his father’s house secretly, and went forth
on his travels into the wide world, only to meet bitter
disappointment and rude repulse, for the farmers would have
nothing to say to him, nor the farmers’ wives. Every one eyed him
with suspicion. “Why,” they said, “should a great stalwart young
fellow over six feet high go about the country begging? He was a
tramp and meant no good.” And they chased him away from their
grounds.
Then he thought he would disguise himself as a regular Fakir; so
he got a long cloak, and took a wallet and a staff, and hid his raven
black hair under a close skull cap, and tried to look as old as he
could.
But the regular Fakirs soon found him out, and their spite and
rage was great, for all of them were either lame of a leg or blind of
an eye, and they said; “Why should this great broad-shouldered
young fellow with the black eyes come and take away our chances
of living, when he ought to be able to work and earn enough to keep
himself without robbing us of our just rights?” And they grumbled
and snarled at him like so many dogs, and set people to spy on him
and watch him.
Still he was determined to try his luck on every side: so he went to
all the stations round about and prayed louder and faster than any
pilgrim or Fakir amongst the whole lot.
But wherever he went he saw a horrible old hag for ever following
him. Her head was wrapped up in an old red shawl, and nothing was
seen of her face except two eyes, that glared on him like coals of
fire whichever way he turned. And now, in truth, his life became
miserable to him because of this loathsome hag. So he went from
station to station to escape her; but still she followed him, and the
sound of her stick on the ground was ever after him like the
hammering of a nail into his coffin, for he felt sure he would die of
the torment and horror.
At last he thought he would try Tobar-Breda for his next station,
as it was several miles off and she might not be able to follow him
so far. So he went, and not a sign of her was to be seen upon the
road. This rejoiced his heart, and he kneeled down at the well and
was saying his prayers louder and faster than ever when he looked
up, and there, kneeling right opposite to him at the other side of the
road, was the detestable old witch. But she took no notice of him,
only went on saying her prayers and telling her beads as if no one
were by.
Presently, however, she stooped down to wash her face in the
well, and, as she threw up the water with her hands, she let the red
shawl slip down over her shoulders, and then the young man beheld
to his astonishment a beautiful young girl before him with a
complexion like the lily and the rose, and soft brown hair falling in
showers of curls over her snow-white neck.
He had only a glimpse for a moment while she cast the water in
her face, and then she drew the red shawl again over her head and
shoulders and was the old hag once more that had filled him with
horror. But that one glimpse was enough to make his heart faint with
love; and now for the first time she turned her burning eyes full on
him, and kept them fixed until he seemed to swoon away in an
ecstacy of happiness, and knew nothing more till he found her
seated beside him, holding his hand in hers, and still looking intently
on his face with her glittering eyes.
“Come away,” she whispered; “follow me. We must leave this
crowd of pilgrims. I have much to say to you.”
 So he rose up, and they went away together to a secluded spot,
far from the noise and tumult of the station. Then she threw off the
shawl, and took the bandage from her face, and said, “Look on me.
Can you love me? I have followed you day by day for love of you.
Can you love me in return, and join your fate to mine? I have money
enough for both, and I’ll teach you the mysteries by which we can
gain more.”
And from that day forth they two travelled together all over the
country; and they practised many strange mysteries and charms, for
Elaine, his wife, was learned in all the secrets of herb lore. And the
people paid them well for their help and knowledge, so that they
never wanted anything, and lived like princes, though never an evil
act was done by their hands, nor did a word of strife ever pass
between them.
Thus they lived happily for many years, till an evil day came when
Elaine was struck by sickness, and she died.
Then the soul of the man seemed to die with her, and all his
knowledge left him, and sad and weary, and tired of all things, he
finally came to end his days in the poor-house, old, poor, and
broken-hearted. Yet still he had the bearing of one born for a higher
destiny, and the noble dignity as of a discrowned king.
Such was the strange story told to the gentleman by the aged
Fakir in the poor-house, a short time before his death.

SACRED TREES.
The large old hawthorns, growing singly in a field or by an ancient
well, are considered very sacred; and no one would venture to cut
them down, for the fairies dance under the branches at night, and
would resent being interfered with.
 There is a Holy Stone in an island of the Shannon, called St.
Patrick’s Stone. It is shadowed by an aged hawthorn, the perfume of
which can be scented far off on the mainland in the flowering
season. At the top of this stone is a large hollow, always filled with
water by the rain or the dew, which is kept from evaporation by the
heavy shadows of the branching hawthorn. It is believed that the
water of this hollow has great healing power, and sometimes when a
patient is brought from a distance, a rude stone shed is built under
the tree, and there he is laid till the cure is completed by the water
of the Holy Stone. On leaving he ties a votive offering to the tree,
which is always covered with these memorials of gratitude.
In autumn the people go to bewail the dead at St. Patrick’s Stone;
and the mournful Irish chant may be often heard rising up in the still
evening air with weird and solemn effect.

TOBER-NA-DARA.
Tober-na-Dara (the well of tears) was so called because it
overflowed one time for a mile round, from the tears of the Irish
wives and mothers who came there to weep for their fallen kindred,
who had been slain in a battle, fighting against Cromwell’s troopers
of the English army.

LOUGH NEAGH.
Wonderful tales are related about the formation of Lough Neagh;
and the whole country round abounds with traditions. One of them
affirms that the great Fionn Ma-Coul being in a rage one day, took
up a handful of earth and flung it into the sea; and the handful was
of such a size that where it fell it formed the Isle of Man, and the
hollow caused by its removal became the basin of the present Lough
Neagh.
Another legend is that a holy well once existed in the locality,
blessed and sanctified by a saint with wonderful miraculous powers
of healing; provided that every patient on leaving, after cure,
carefully closed the wicket-gate that shut in the well. But once,
however, a woman having forgotten this information, left the gate
open, when instantly the indignant waters sprang from their bed and
pursued the offender, who fled in terror before the advancing waves,
until at last she sank down exhausted, when the waters closed over
her, and she was no more seen. But along the track of her flight the
waters remained, and formed the great lake now existing, which is
exactly the length the woman traversed in her flight from the angry
spirit of the lake.
Mysterious influences still haunt the locality all round Lough
Neagh; for it is the most ancient dwelling-place of the fairies, and
when they pass at night, from one island to another, soft music is
heard floating by, and then the boatmen know that the fairies are
out for a pleasure trip; and one man even averred that he saw them
going by in the track of the moonbeam, a crowd of little men all
dressed in green with red caps, and the ladies in silver gossamer.
And he liked these pretty creatures, and always left a little poteen
for them in the bottle when he was on the island. In return for which
attention they gave him the best of good luck in fishing and in
everything else; for never a gauger came next or nigh his place
while the fairies protected him, and many a time they led the gauger
into a bog, and otherwise discomfited him, when he and his men
were after a still.
So the fisherman loved his little friends, and they took great care
of him; for even in the troublous times of ’98, when the wreckers
were all over the country, they did him no harm; though indeed the
same wreckers knew where to find a good glass of something when
they came his way, and he always gave it to them with a heart and a
half; for didn’t they tell him they were going to free Ireland from the
Sassenach tyranny.
Down deep, under the waters of Lough Neagh, can still be seen,
by those who have the gift of fairy vision, the columns and walls of
the beautiful palaces once inhabited by the fairy race when they
were the gods of the earth; and this tradition of a buried town
beneath the waves has been prevalent for centuries amongst the
people.
Giraldus Cambrensis states, that in his time the tops of towers,
“built after the fashion of the country,” were distinctly visible in calm,
clear weather, under the surface of the lake; and still the fairies
haunt the ruins of their former splendour, and hold festivals beneath
the waters when the full moon is shining; for the boatmen, coming
home late at night, have often heard sweet music rising up from
beneath the waves and the sound of laughter, and seen glimmering
lights far down under the water, where the ancient fairy palaces are
supposed to be.

THE DOCTOR AND THE FAIRY PRINCESS.

Late one night, so the story goes, a great doctor, who lived near
Lough Neagh, was awoke by the sound of a carriage driving up to
his door, followed by a loud ring. Hastily throwing on his clothes, the
doctor ran down, when he saw a little sprite of a page standing at
the carriage door, and a grand gentleman inside.
“Oh, doctor, make haste and come with me,” exclaimed the
gentleman. “Lose no time, for a great lady has been taken ill, and
she will have no one to attend her but you. So come along with me
at once in the carriage.”
On this the doctor ran up again to finish his dressing, and to put
up all that might be wanted, and was down again in a moment.
 “Now quick,” said the gentleman, “you are an excellent good
fellow. Sit down here beside me, and do not be alarmed at anything
you may see.”
So on they drove like mad—and when they came to the ferry, the
doctor thought they would wake up the ferryman and take the boat;
but no, in they plunged, carriage and horses, and all, and were at
the other side in no time without a drop of water touching them.
Now the doctor began to suspect the company he was in; but he
held his peace, and they went on up Shane’s Hill, till they stopped at
a long, low, black house, which they entered, and passed along a
narrow dark passage, groping their way, till, all at once, a bright
light lit up the walls, and some attendants having opened a door, the
doctor found himself in a gorgeous chamber all hung with silk and
gold; and on a silken couch lay a beautiful lady, who exclaimed with
the most friendly greeting—
“Oh, doctor, I am so glad to see you. How good of you to come.”
“Many thanks, my lady,” said the doctor, “I am at your ladyship’s
service.”
And he stayed with her till a male child was born; but when he
looked round there was no nurse, so he wrapped it in swaddling
clothes and laid it by the mother.
“Now,” said the lady, “mind what I tell you. They will try to put a
spell on you to keep you here; but take my advice, eat no food and
drink no wine, and you will be safe; and mind, also, that you express
no surprise at anything you see; and take no more than five golden
guineas, though you may be offered fifty or a hundred, as your fee.”
“Thank you, madam,” said the doctor, “I shall obey you in all
things.”
With this the gentleman came into the room, grand and noble as a
prince, and then he took up the child, looked at it and laid it again
on the bed.
 Now there was a large fire in the room, and the gentleman took
the fire shovel and drew all the burning coal to the front, leaving a
great space at the back of the grate; then he took up the child again
and laid it in the hollow at the back of the fire and drew all the coal
over it till it was covered; but, mindful of the lady’s advice, the
doctor said never a word. Then the room suddenly changed to
another still more beautiful, where a grand feast was laid out, of all
sorts of meats and fair fruits and bright red wine in cups of sparkling
crystal.
“Now, doctor,” said the gentleman, “sit down with us and take
what best pleases you.”
“Sir,” said the doctor, “I have made a vow neither to eat nor drink
till I reach my home again. So please let me return without further
delay.”
“Certainly,” said the gentleman, “but first let me pay you for your
trouble,” and he laid down a bag of gold on the table and poured out
a quantity of bright pieces.
“I shall only take what is my right and no more,” said the doctor,
and he drew over five golden guineas, and placed them in his purse.
“And now, may I have the carriage to convey me back, for it is
growing late?”
On this the gentleman laughed. “You have been learning secrets
from my lady,” he said. “However, you have behaved right well, and
you shall be brought back safely.”
So the carriage came, and the doctor took his cane, and was
carried back as the first time through the water—horses, carriage,
and all—and so on till he reached his home all right just before
daybreak. But when he opened his purse to take out the golden
guineas, there he saw a splendid diamond ring along with them in
the purse worth a king’s ransom, and when he examined it he found
the two letters of his own name carved inside. So he knew it was
meant for him, a present from the fairy prince himself.
 All this happened a hundred years ago, but the ring still remains in
the doctor’s family, handed down from father to son, and it is
remarked, that whoever wears it as the owner for the time has good
luck and honour and wealth all the days of his life.
“And by the light that shines, this story is true,” added the narrator
of the tale, using the strong form of asseveration by which the Irish-
speaking peasants emphasize the truth of their words.

A HOLY WELL.
On the north side of Lough Neagh there is still a holy well of great
power and sanctity. Three ancient white-thorn trees overshadow it,
and about a mile distant is the fragmentary ruin of a wooden cross,
erected in the olden time to mark the limit of the sacred ground.
It was the custom up to a recent date for the pilgrims to go round
this well thirteen times barefoot on the 27th of June, drink of the
water, wash in it, and then, holding themselves freed from all past
sin, return to the old worldly life, and begin again after the usual
fashion the old routine of business or pleasure, or reckless folly,
conscious that they could come once more the following year and
clear off all the accumulated stains of an ill life by a lavation in the
holy well.
A number of yellow crystals are found near, which the people say
grow in the rocks in one night upon Midsummer Eve. And these
crystals have power to avert all evil and bring luck and blessing to a
house and family, and certain words are said while gathering them,
known only to the adepts. The crystals are, however, very plentiful,
and are found scattered for a space of two miles round the well, and
in the crannies of the rocks. When burned in a crucible they become
pure lime in one hour, and the powder ferments with spirits of vitriol;
yet the waters of the well when analyzed present no appearance of
lime.
At one time an effort was made to change the name of Lough
Neagh to Lough Chichester, in honour of the Lord Deputy, Sir Arthur
Chichester, but the Irish would not accept the new baptism, and the
old name still remains unchanged.

A SACRED ISLAND.
At Toome Island there is the ruin of an ancient church, where the
dead walk on November Eve. It is a solemn and sacred place, and
nothing is allowed to be taken from it; neither stone nor branch of
the shadowing trees, for fear of angering the spirits. One day three
men who were on the island cut down some branches of an elder-
tree that grew there to repair a private still, and carried them off in
their boat; but when just close to the shore a violent gust of wind
upset the boat, and the men were drowned. The wood, however,
floated back to the island, and a cross was made of it which was
erected on the beach, to commemorate the fate of the doomed
men.
It is recorded, also, that a certain stone having been taken away
by some masons from the ancient ruin, to build into the wall of the
parish church, which they were erecting in the place, the water in
the town well suddenly began to diminish, and at last dried up, to
the great consternation and terror of the inhabitants, who were at
their wits’ end to know the cause; when luckily an old woman of the
place dreamed a dream about the abduction of the stone, which
gave the solution of the mystery.
At once the people took the matter into their own hands, and they
went in a body and cast down the wall till they came on the stone,
which was then placed in a boat, and carried back with solemn
ceremonial to the island, where it was replaced in its original site,
and, immediately after, the water flowed back again into the well,
and the supply became even more copious than ever.

THE LAKE OF REVENGE.

Near the great mountain of Croagh-Patrick there is a lake called
Clonvencagh, or the Lake of Revenge, to which evil-disposed
persons used to resort in order to imprecate maledictions on their
enemies. It was the custom also to erect monuments round the well
by placing on end a long flagstone, and heaping round it a pyramid
of sand in order to keep it fixed firmly in its place. Over these pillar-
stones certain mystic rites were then performed by the pilgrims, and
prayers were said which took the form of the most terrible
imprecations. It was therefore with awe and terror that one man
said of another, “He has been cursed by the stone.”

SCENES AT A HOLY WELL.

Scenes of holy faith, of tender love, and human pity are, however,
happily more frequent amongst the devotees at the holy wells of
Ireland than the fierce mutterings of malediction. At these sacred
places may be seen the mother praying for her child, the girl for her
lover, the wife for her husband; going the rounds on their bare
knees, with the crucifix in their clasped hands and their eyes raised
to heaven in silent prayer, with a divine faith that this prayer will be
answered; and who can say but that the fervour of the supplication
has often brought down the blessing of healing for the sick, or
comfort for the sorrowing? The picturesque grouping round the holy
well, the background of purple mountains, the antique stone cross at
which the pilgrims kneel, the costumes and often the beautiful faces
of the praying women, with their long dark hair and purple Irish
eyes, form a scene of wonderful poetic and dramatic interest, which
has been immortalized by Sir Frederick Burton in his great national
picture, The Blind Girl at the Holy Well—a work that at once made
the young painter famous, and laid the foundation of the subsequent
career of this distinguished and perfect artist.

LOUGH FOYLE.
Lough Foyle means the borrowed lake, for in old times there were
two weird sisters dwelling beyond the Shannon, who were skilled in
necromancy. And the elder sister said to the younger—
“Give me the loan of your silver lake, for I have none; and I
promise to restore it to you next Monday.”
So the younger, being good-natured, rolled up the lake in a sheet
and despatched it over hills and dales to her sister. But when the
time came for return, the elder sister, being deceitful and cunning,
made answer to the messenger sent for it—
“Truly, I said Monday, but I meant the Day of Judgment. So I shall
keep the lake till then.”
And the lake therefore remains in her country to this day, while
the great hollow whence it was taken can still be seen in Connaught,
bare and barren, waiting for the waters that never will return.

THE HEN’S CASTLE.

At the head of Lough Corrib, deep in the water about a gunshot
from the land, stands the ancient castle of Caisleen-na-Cearca, said
to have been built in one night by a cock and a hen, but in reality it
was founded by the ill-fated Roderick O’Connor, the last king of
Ireland. Strange lights are sometimes seen flitting through it, and on
some particular midnight a crowd of boats gather round it, filled with
men dressed in green with red sashes. And they row about till the
cock crows, when they suddenly vanish and the cries of children are
heard in the air. Then the people know that there has been a death
somewhere in the region, and that the Sidhe have been stealing the
young mortal children, and leaving some ill-favoured brat in the
cradle in place of the true child.
The old castle has many historic memories; the celebrated Graina
Uaile, the great chieftainess of the West, made it her abode for
some time, and carried thither the young heir of Howth, whom she
had abducted from Howth Castle, when on one of her piratical
expeditions. Afterwards, during the Wars of Elizabeth, a
distinguished lady of the sept of the O’Flaherties, Bevinda
O’Flahertie, shut herself up there with her only daughter and
heiress, and a following of twenty resolute men. But further to
ensure her safety, she wrote to the Queen, requesting permission to
arm the guard; Queen Elizabeth in return sent an autograph letter
granting the request, but addressed to “her good friend, Captain
Bevan O’Flahertie,” evidently thinking that the custodian of such a
castle must certainly be a man.
In the solemn solitude of this picturesque and stately Caisleen-na-
Cearca, the great lake fortress of Lough Corrib, with its rampart of
purple mountains and its water pathway fifty miles long, the young
heiress grew up tall and beautiful, the pride of the west. And in due
time she married Blake of Menlo Castle. And from this historic pair is
descended the present baronet and owner of the property, Sir John
Blake of Menlo.
Cromwell ruthlessly dismantled the castle, and it has remained a
ruin ever since; but the massive walls, and the beautiful twelfth
century ornamentation of doors and windows still attest the ancient
grandeur of the edifice, before “the curse of Cromwell” fell upon it,
and upon the country and on the people of Ireland.

SLIABH-MISH, COUNTY KERRY.

Every one knows that Sliabh-Mish, County Kerry, is haunted. The
figure of a man, accompanied by a huge black dog, is frequently
seen standing on a high crag, but as the traveller approaches, the
forms disappear, although they rise up again before him on another
crag, and so continue appearing and disappearing as he journeys
on. Many travellers have seen them, but no one has ever yet been
able to meet the man and the dog face to face on the mountain
side, for they seem to melt away in the mist, and are seen no more
on reaching the spot. It happened, once upon a time, that a man
journeying alone over the mountain path, took out his snuff-box to
solace himself with a pinch, and was putting it up again in his
waistcoat pocket, when he heard a voice near him saying, “Not yet!
not yet! I am near you, wait.”
He looked-round, but not a soul was to be seen. However, he
thought it right to be friendly, so he shook some snuff from the box
in the palm of his hand and held it out in the air. But his hair stood
on end, and he trembled with fright, when he felt invisible fingers on
his hand picking up the snuff, and when he drew it back the snuff
had disappeared.
“God and the saints between us and harm!” exclaimed the poor
man, ready to drop down from terror.
“Amen,” responded the clear voice of some invisible speaker close
beside him.
Then the man quickly made the sign of the cross over the hand
touched by the spirit, and so went on his way unharmed.
 THE SKELLIGS OF KERRY.
The Skellig Rocks are situated about eleven miles from the
mainland, and are considered of great sanctity. In the Middle Ages,
during the penitential weeks of Lent, the monks used to leave the
adjacent convent and retire to the Skelligs Rocks for silence, prayer,
and abstinence. Several ancient stone-roofed cells are still in
existence at the top of the rock, showing where they dwelt. These
cells are of the most ancient cyclopean order of building known in
Ireland, and are far older than the church near them, which does
not date earlier than the seventh century.
Certainly no place more awful in its loneliness and desolation
could be imagined than the summit of the bleak rock, reached only
by a narrow way, almost inaccessible, even to those accustomed to
climb precipitous paths, but which makes the ordinary traveller giddy
with fear and dread.
As marriages were not allowed in Lent, it became a custom for the
young people of both sexes to make a pilgrimage to the Skellig
Rocks during the last Lenten week. A procession was formed of the
young girls and bachelors, and tar-barrels were lighted to guide
them on the dangerous paths. The idea was to spend the week in
prayer, penance, and lamentation; the girls praying for good
husbands, the bachelors repenting of their sins. But the proceedings
gradually degenerated into such a mad carnival of dancing, drinking,
and fun, that the priests denounced the pilgrimage, and forbade the
annual migration to the Skelligs. Still the practice was continued until
the police had orders to clear the rocks. Thus ended the ancient
custom of “going to the Skelligs:” for the mayor having pronounced
judgment over the usage as “subversive of all morality and
decorum,” it was entirely discontinued; and the wild fun and frolic of
the Skelligs is now but a tradition preserved in the memory of the
oldest inhabitant.
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