wife, very respectable and decent people, and this giant, taking his morning walk along the bay, came to the place where the child had been cast ashore in his box.  Well, the giant looked at the child, and being filled with compassion for his exposed state, took the child up in his box, and carried him home to his castle, where he and his wife, being dacent respectable people, as I telled ye before, fostered the child and took care of him, till he became old enough to go out to service and gain his livelihood, when they bound him out apprentice to another giant, who lived in a castle up the country, at some distance from the bay.

“This giant, whose name was Darmod David Odeen, was not a respectable person at all, but a big old vagabond.  He was twice the size of the other giant, who, though bigger than any man, was not a big giant; for, as there are great and small men, so there are great and small giants—­I mean some are small when compared with the others.  Well, Finn served this giant a considerable time, doing all kinds of hard and unreasonable service for him, and receiving all kinds of hard words, and many a hard knock and kick to boot—­sorrow befall the old vagabond who could thus ill-treat a helpless foundling.  It chanced that one day the giant caught a salmon, near a salmon-leap upon his estate—­for, though a big ould blackguard, he was a person of considerable landed property, and high sheriff for the county Cork.  Well, the giant brings home the salmon by the gills, and delivers it to Finn, telling him to roast it for the giant’s dinner; ‘but take care, ye young blackguard,’ he added, ’that in roasting it—­and I expect ye to roast it well—­you do not let a blister come upon its nice satin skin, for if ye do, I will cut the head off your shoulders.’  ‘Well,’ thinks Finn, ’this is a hard task; however, as I have done many hard tasks for him, I will try and do this too, though I was never set to do anything yet half so difficult.’  So he prepared his fire, and put his gridiron upon it, and lays the salmon fairly and softly upon the gridiron, and then he roasts it, turning it from one side to the other just in the nick of time, before the soft satin skin could be blistered.  However, on turning it over the eleventh time—­and twelve would have settled the business—­he found he had delayed a little bit of time too long in turning it over, and that there was a small, tiny blister on the soft outer skin.  Well, Finn was in a mighty panic, remembering the threats of the ould giant; however, he did not lose heart, but clapped his thumb upon the blister in order to smooth it down.  Now the salmon, Shorsha, was nearly done, and the flesh thoroughly hot, so Finn’s thumb was scalt, and he, clapping it to his mouth, sucked it, in order to draw out the pain, and in a moment—­hubbuboo!—­became imbued with all the wisdom of the world.

Myself.  Stop, Murtagh! stop!

Murtagh.  All the witchcraft, Shorsha.