“‘Fetch me a glass of the best,’ says I to a little fellow who was hopping about with a tray full of all sorts of dhrink.

“‘Fetch it yourself, Felix Donovan.  Who’s your sarvant now?’ says the chap, docking up his chin as impident as a tinker’s dog.  I felt my fingers itching to give the fellow a polthogue[3] in the ear; but I thought I might as well keep myself paceable in a strange place—­so I only gave him a contemptible look, and turned my back upon him.

    [3] A thump.

“‘Felix jewel!’ whispered Anty in my ear.  ’You’ve lost your power over the fairies by that misfortunate kiss—­’

“‘Diaoul!—­there’s two of Mahoon’s gifts gone already,’ thinks I,

“‘If you’ll take my advice,’ says Anty, ’you’ll be off out of this as fast as you can.”

“‘The sorra foot I’ll stir out of this,’ says I ’unless you come along with me ma callieen dhas[4]—­’

    [4] My pretty girl.

“I wish you could have seen the deluding look she gave me as leaning her head upon my shoulder she whispered to me in a voice sweeter than music of a dream,

“’Felix dear!  I’ll go with you all the world over, and the sooner we take to the road the better.  Steal you out of the door, and I’ll follow you in a few minutes.’

“Accordingly I sneaked away as quietly as I could; they were all too busy with their divarsions to mind me—­and at the door I met Anty with her apron full of goold and diamonds.

“‘Now,’ said she, ‘where’s the kippeen Mahoon gave you?’

“‘Here it is safe enough,’ I answered, pulling it out of my breeches pocket.

“‘Well, now tell it to become a coach-and-four.’

“I did as she desired me—­and in a moment there was a grand coach and four prancing horses before us.  You may be sure we did not stand admiring very long, but both stepped in, and away we drove like the wind,—­until we came to a high wall; so high that it tired me to look to the top of it.

“‘Step out, now,’ says she, ’but mind not to let go your held of the coach, and tell it to change itself into a ladder.’

“I had my lesson now; the coach became a ladder, reaching to the top of the wall; so up we mounted, and descended on the other side by the same means.  There was then before us a terrible dark gulf over which hung such a thick fog that a priest couldn’t see to bless himself in it.

“‘Call for a winged horse,’ whispered Anty.

“I did so, and up came a fine black horse, with a pair of great wings growing out of his back, and ready bridled and saddled to our hand.  I jumped upon his back, and took Anty up before me; when, spreading out his wings, he flew—­flew, without ever stopping until he landed us safe on the opposite shore.  We were now on the banks of a broad river.

“‘This,’ said Anty, ‘is our last difficulty.’