“Then, ‘O, young man,’ says she, ’young man, then you shall take a bounty,
    A bounty of my magic that may grant you wishes three;
  Come make yourself the grandest man from out o’ Galway County
    To Dublin’s famous city all of my good gramarye?’
    And, ‘Thank you, Miss,’ says gran’dad, ‘but such ain’t no use to me.’

  “But he said, since she was pressing of her fairy spells and forces,
    He’d take the threefold bounty, lest a gift he’d seem to scorn: 
  He’d ask, beyond all other men, the tricks o’ hounds and horses,
    And a voice to charm a woodland of a soft December morn,
    And sons to follow after him, all to the business born.

  “And—­but here we are at home, Sir.  Yes, the old man was a terror
    For his fairies and his nonsense, yet the story’s someways right;
  He’d the trick o’ hounds and horses to a marvel—­and no error;
    And to hear him draw a woodland was a pride and a delight;
    And—­was it luck entirely, Sir, I killed my fox to-night?”

* * * * *

THE LITTLE WONDER.

The crowd had gone, the lights had been extinguished, and the doors of the music-hall were shut.  The Little Wonder was tired after the performance; his attempt to do the double somersault had strained him, and his failure had brought a whipping.  Although the outhouse in which he was to lie was cold and damp and smelt horribly, he was glad when his master thrust him into it, and he was content to lie down in the straw and forget his misery in sleep.

He dreamt a beautiful dream.  He dreamt that he was a master, and that he was presenting to a crowded audience what he had billed as “A Marvel of the Twentieth Century”—­a performing man.  The man was a creature with a pink face, oily hair, and a black moustache; and the Little Wonder, in his capacity as master, made the Marvel bark like a dog, whereat the audience yelped its approval.  Then the collar of a member of the audience was handed on to the stage, while the Marvel was blindfolded, and, after sniffing the collar, he succeeded in tracking down its owner—­like a dog again.  And in whatever trick the Marvel did, the Little Wonder was close behind him, looking so friendly and threatening him with low growls at the same time.  If the Marvel happened to remember for a moment his miserable condition and to look unhappy, his master would look still more kindly and threaten even more sternly.  Then came the moment when the orchestra stopped suddenly, and the kettledrum rolled, and the eyes of the audience were fixed upon the Marvel.  For this remarkable performing man was scratching in a tub of earth to find a bone—­just like a real dog; and that was his greatest trick.  When he had successfully performed it, his master (the Little Wonder) presented him with a twopenny cigar clothed in a flashy cummerbund, to show how generously he rewarded achievements.  Then, as the curtain fell, he retired with many bows—­and in the wings gave the Marvel a hot time for shirking the biscuit trick.