Ormonds of Kilkenny were, for centuries, deadly foes. More than one of the illustrious house of Butler were prisoners *of their implacable enemies; and, in the reign of Charles the First, the celebrated Duke of Ormond completely destroyed the power of the Fitzpatricks, and annexed Durrow, their patrimony, to his own possessions, since which time that district, though nearly surrounded by the Queen's County, forms part of the county of Kilkenny. Some ages previous to this period, one of the Butlers having overrun Lower Ossory, and, as usual, having slaughtered most of the inhabitants, the heir of the house of Fitzpatrick found refuge in the castle of O'More, the Chieftain of Leix. The chivalrous spirit of the times inculcated such elevated notions of honour, that friendship and unlimited confidence were synonymous; while the man who was admitted a guest never had his actions regarded with suspicion. Treachery was out of the question; for justice was then so summary, that life was the immediate forfeit of an unworthy action. No wonder, then, that O'More took no precaution to prevent any improper intimacy between Fitzpatrick and his only daughter-a lady who possessed, in an eminent degree, all those charms which superadd to the attractions of youth and beauty. The consequence of parental neglect on this occasion was fatal; and, as the story goes, continues yet to blast the happiness of the descendants of one of the party. to his wounded honour unless they escaped from his wrath. Under these circumstances the lovers agreed to fly from Leix, and appointed an evening to meet at a lonely well, to arrange for their departure. The unhappy lady was punctual; but Fitzpatrick was perfidious: he met her at the well, and, while in the act of caressing her, plunged a dagger into her heart! She fell a corpse; her blood tinged the water of the spring, and the faithless lover returned undiscovered to the castle. The chieftain lamented the fate of his child, but never suspected his guest; and the heir of Ossory, for a time, encountered no reproof but that of his own guilty conscience. In a short time Fitzpatrick was restored by O'More to his possessions in Ossory, where he married, and had a numerous offspring. For twenty years he carried in his bosom the assassin's secret, and the memory of his lovely victim had nearly been forgotten, when, one night, as himself and his kerns, during an intestine war, were encamped not far from the fatal spot where he had committed murder, the awful and solemn cry of a benshee was heard to proceed from the well. The guilty chieftain started; but, as if impelled by some supernatural power, he walked towards the spring, and distinctly saw the victim of his treachery, in her ordinary dress of white, sitting beneath the tree that shaded the well, and wringing her hands as if in an agony of grief. He had scarcely gazed on her, when she arose, redoubled her cries, and seemed to approach the place where he stood. At this moment his fears appeared to have overcome him; and, as he exclaimed Pardon, oh! pardon your murderer!' the apparition gave a hoarse scream, and vanished, like a shadow of the moon, down the valley, still keeping up the cry of the benshee, which was distinctly heard for several minutes. The chieftain's lovely daughter naturally attracted the attention of her father's guest, who was about her own age; and, as no restraint was placed upon their interviews, they soon learned to feel mutual happiness in each other's company. They were indiscreet; and, to their horror, discovered that a knowledge of their criminal conduct must soon take place, as the daughter of the chiefIt had scarcely tain was pregnant. There remained ceased when the sentinel gave the for them no expectation of pardon; alarm of a sudden attack, and the for they knew with O'More nothing O'Mores in an instant were in the could palliate their crime, and that camp of the Fitzpatricks. The battle the lives of both must fall a sacrifice was long and bloody; but, ere the *There is an old painting in Trinity College, Dublin, representing the treacherous capture of a Duke of Ormond by the Chieftain of Leix, the friend of the Fitzpatricks. From this time the cry of the Benshee was regularly heard at the fatal well previous to the dissolution of any of the descendants of Fitzpatrick; and, in time, it became so notorious, that the spring acquired the appellation of the ‘Benshee's Well,' a name which it yet retains. No matter whether a Fitzpatrick died in war or peace, abroad or at home, the cry that foretold the sad event was to be heard at the fountain where the apparition was first seen, and where the chieftain's daughter had been so treacherously assassinated by her lover. From this circumstance it was inferred that the Benshee was nothing more nor less than the murdered lady, on whom had been imposed the melancholy duty of announcing to the descendants of her deceiver the fearful intelligence of their approaching destiny. In one of the revolutions which this part of the country underwent this branch of the Fitzpatricks were expelled from Ossory, and settled in the district of O'More, where their descendant, better than half a century ago, erected the mansion which is yet standing. This gentleman, as a necessary requisite to the retention of his property, had embraced the reformed religion; and as a Protestant is, in some measure, a negative papist, he determined to disbelieve the superstitious, as well as the religious, creed of his ancestors ; but in nothing was he more positive than in the non-appearance of the Benshee. In vain the old retainers of his family alleged their having repeatedly heard the cry, and instanced the case of his father, who had expired in London on the very night it was last heard in Ireland. Still he was incredulous, and dared those who believed in the apparition to tell him when next the Benshee should be heard; for, if she remained the usual time at the well, he would have an opportunity of seeing and hearing her, the distance not being quite a quarter of a mile. VOL. I.-No. I. Years rolled on, and no Benshee was heard, when Fitzpatrick became confirmed in his incredulity, forgetful that none of his family had, during all this time, needed such a monitor. At length a favourite daughter fell suddenly ill, and the alarmed father fled himself, at twelve o'clock at night, for a physician. Returning with the doctor, he heard a sad and solemn cry proceed from the direction of the well, and, thinking it a trick of some one to mock his incredulity, he hastened home, seized his pistols, and hurried alone to the fountain. Cautiously casting his eyes through an aperture of the shade that protected the water during the day from the sunbeams, he saw a female figure, dressed in white, sitting on the bank, and uttering a most melancholy cry. Enraged at what he thought an attempt to terrify himself, and possibly accelerate the death of his child, he cocked his pistol, aimed at the object, and fired. A scream of superhuman force and horror, that nearly froze the blood in his veins, instantly burst upon him; and, as he turned to fly, the figure of the Benshee, all covered, with blood, crossed his path, and' continued, at intervals, to intercept him as he ran. When he reached home he rushed into his daughter's room, and on his entrance the sick girl screamed out See, see! oh see that beautiful lady, all covered with blood!' Where, oh! where?' demanded the father. In the window, Sir,' replied the poor creature. 'Oh! no, she's gone.' From that moment the patient, in spite of the doctor's skill, continued to grow worse; and next day, about twelve o'clock, she expired. On that evening, about twilight, as the afflicted father was pacing up and down one of the walks in his garden that overlooked the avenue, he was surprised at hearing a noise as if a coach and horses were coming up to the house. Casting his eyes over the hedge, he distinctly saw six black headless horses, driven by a headless coachman, drawing a hearse, which regularly stopped before the hall door, and to his amazement a coffin was brought out and placed upon it, when instantly the bloody figure of the Benshee mounted upon the pall, and the hearse drove on. F When he had somewhat recovered from his astonishment he ran into the house, where, finding the corpse as he had left it, he began to suspect that his eyes had deceived him. By no means, my dear,' said his lady; that hearse follows my father's family; I saw it myself when one of my uncles died, and you know it's quite as natural as the Benshee' 'Hold!' exclaimed Fitzpatrick, there she is, outside of the window, bloody and vindictive-looking as when I shot her! She recedes-she's gone! Heaven forefend from me her wrath; for I am sure she bodes me evil!' His apprehensions were but too just; for next day another of his children died; and he could not stir from home any night after dark without encountering the appalling figure of the Benshee. She crossed his path whether he rode or walked, was alone or in company; till, at length, in the hope of avoiding her, he quitted the country, and passed over into England, where he soon after died. The enraged Benshee, whose kind offices were so badly requited, was never heard to lament the approaching death of a Fitzpatrick after the night she had been fired at. In fact, her services in that way appeared to cease, as she has only since been known as the persecutor of those over whose existence she would, if properly treated, have continued to watch. About twenty years ago the mansion of Fitzpatrick was visited by the owner, with the intention of residing in it; when, on the night of his arrival, the dreadful cry of the infuriated Benshee assailed the house, and continued to do so nightly until it was once more deserted; since which time it has been totally uninhabited. Such is the strange relation which is familiar in the mouths of the peasantry in that part of the country where the incidents are supposed to have taken place. But the idea here given of a Benshee is by no means without exceptions; for, in some parts of the country, the apparition is described as an old man, and in others an old woman, who announce their doleful news from the ashes' corner, or from under the staircase. In general, however, the Benshee is understood to be like a beautiful young woman, who utters her melancholy cry, sometimes once, and sometimes twice, before death, near to a spring, a river, or a lake. Whether she is the friend or enemy of the family to which she is attached is not distinctly understood. IMPROMPTU ON QUITTING THE PIER OF HOWTH.-BY A 'BONDSMAN.' To stay my steps this morn appears; That freedom's light the dastards smother, Should shed their brightness on a brother: And wound their fellow-man still deeper, When freemen she this precept gave- |