When Larry entered the house, which had an air of comfort and snugness beyond the common, a tall thin pike of a man, about sixty years of age, stood before him.  He wore a brown great-coat that fell far short of his knees; his small-clothes were closely fitted to thighs not thicker than hand telescopes; on his legs were drawn gray woollen stockings, rolled up about six inches over his small-clothes; his head was covered by a bay bob-wig, on which was a little round, hat, with the edge of the leaf turned up in every direction.  His face was short and sallow; his chin peaked; his nose small and turned up.  If we add to this, a pair of skeleton-like hands and arms projecting about eight inches beyond the sleeves of his coat; two fiery ferret-eyes; and a long small holly wand, higher than himself, we have the outline of this singular figure.

“God save you, nabor,” said Larry.

“Save you, save you, neighbor,” he replied, without pronouncing the name of the deity.

“This is a thryin’ time,” said Larry, “to them that has childhre.”

The fairy-man fastened his red glittering eyes upon him, with a sinister glance that occasioned Larry to feel rather uncomfortable.

“So you venthured to come to the fairy-man?”

“It is about our son, an’ he all we ha—­”

“Whisht!” said the man, waving his hand with a commanding air.  “Whisht; I wish you wor out o’ this, for it’s a bad time to be here.  Listen!  Listen!  Do you hear nothing?”

Larry changed color.  “I do,” he replied—­“The Lord protect me:  Is that them?”

“What did you hear?” said the man.

“Why,” returned the other, “I heard the bushes of the rath all movin’, jist as if a blast o’ wind came among them!”

“Whisht,” said the fairy-man, “they’re here; you mustn’t open your lips while you’re in the house.  I know what you want, an’ will see your son.  Do you hear anything more?  If you do, lay your forefinger along your nose; but don’t spake.”

Larry heard with astonishment, the music of a pair of bagpipes.  The tune played was one which, according to a popular legend, was first played by Satan; it is called:  “Go to the Devil and shake yourself.”  To our own knowledge, the peasantry in certain parts of Ireland refuse to sing it for the above reason.  The mystery of the music was heightened too by the fact of its being played, as Larry thought, behind the gable of the cabin, which stood against the side of the rath, out of which, indeed, it seemed to proceed.

Larry laid his finger along his nose, as he had been desired; and this appearing to satisfy the fairy-man, he waved his hand to the door, thus intimating that his visitor should depart; which he did immediately, but not without observing that this wild-looking being closed and bolted the door after him.

It is unnecessary to say that he was rather anxious to get off the premises of the good people; he therefore lost little time until he arrived at his own cabin; but judge of his wonder when, on entering it, he found the long-legged spectre awaiting his return.