‘They were in heaven once,’ Mary Glyn says ’and heaven is the first place there was war; and they were all to be done away with; and it was St. Peter asked the Saviour to help them, when he saw Him going to empty the heavens.  So He turned His hand like this; and the earth and the sky and the sea were full of them, and they are in every place, and you know that better than I do, because you read books.  Resting they do be in the daytime, and going about at night.  And their music is the finest you ever heard, like all the fifers, and all the instruments, and all the tunes of the world.  I heard it sometimes myself, and there is no music in the world like it; but not all can hear it.  Round the hill it comes, and you going in at the door.  And they are quiet neighbours if you treat them well.  God bless them, and bring them all to heaven.’

And then, having mentioned Monday (a spell against unseen listeners), and said, ’God bless the hearers, and the place it is told in’—­and her niece, Mary Irwin, having said, ’God bless all we see, and those we don’t see,’ they tell—­first one speaking and then the other—­that:  ’One night there were banabhs in the house; and there was a man coming to dig the potato-garden in the morning—­and so late at night, Mary Glyn was making stirabout, and a cake to have ready for the breakfast of the banabhs and the man; and Mary’s brother Micky was asleep within on the bed.  And there came the sound of the grandest music you ever heard from beyond the stream, and it stopped there.  And Micky awoke in the bed, and was afraid, and said:  “Shut up the door and quench the light,” and so we did.’  ‘It’s likely,’ Mary says, ’they wanted to come into the house, and they wouldn’t when they saw me up and the lights about.’  But one time when there were potatoes in the loft, Mary and her brothers were pelted with the potatoes when they sat down to supper.  And Mary Irwin got a blow on the side of the face, from one of them, one night in the bed.  ‘And they have the hope of heaven, and God grant it to them.’  ’And one day, there was a priest and his servant riding along the road, and there was a hurling of them going on in the field.  And a man of them came out and stood in the road, and said to the priest:  “Tell me this, for you know it, have we a chance of heaven?” “You have not,” said the priest.  ("God forgive him,” says Mary Irwin, “a priest to say that!”) And the man that was of them said:  “Put your fingers in your ears, till you have travelled two miles of the road; for when I go back and tell what you are after telling me to the rest, the crying and the bawling and the roaring will be so great that, if you hear it, you’ll never hear a noise again in this world.”  So they put their fingers then in their ears; but after a while the servant said to the priest:  “Let me take out my fingers now.”  And the priest said:  “Do not.”  And then the servant said again:  “I think I might take one finger out.”  And the priest said:  “Since you are so persevering, you may take it out.”  So he did, and the noise of the crying and the roaring and the bawling was so great, that he never had the use of that ear again.’