The Comparison As To Ages

In the Island of Achill the Crow lived. He never frequented wood, tree or bush, but an ancient forge in which he spent his time every evening throughout the year, and every year of his lifetime, lying on the anvil. And as it is the custom of birds usually to rub their beaks to the thing that is nearest to them, the Crow used to give an odd rub, now and again, to the horn of the anvil. At long last, in the end, the horn grew to be as thin and worn away as a knitting needle, by the continuous rubbing.

One night there happened to be a great storm. There came frost, snow and wind, very violent. The roofing was swept away off the forge, and along with it went the plumage and feathers of the crow, and the poor crow was left in the morning after that dreadful night, and he without a feather or any plumage on his body, but just as much as if he had been scalded with boiling water.

When the sun rose after that in the morning there came a rest and a calm, but the poor crow was afraid to go out, and [_i.e._, after] the flaying that had been done upon him during the night. "Oh," said he, "it's a long time I'm in this world, and I never felt a single other night of such bad weather as the night last night. It is my own opinion that there is not a single living creature in the entire world older than myself, unless it be the great Eagle of Leac-na-bhfaol,[39] and I'm in doubt but that the eagle is the older. I'll go to himself now until I get knowledge from him if he ever felt a night as cold and as venemous as the night we had last night."

[39] Pronounce L'ock-na-weel.

When the light of day came and the heat of the sun was right, my crow slipped off with the intention of journeying to the eagle. He was going and ever-going as well as he was able, seeing he was without feathers, until he came in the end, at long last, as far as the nest of the Eagle.

"Aroo!" says the Eagle; "O Crow of my heart, what has happened to you, or where have your plumage and your feathers gone?"

"Oh, don't ask me that," said the Crow, "didn't yourself feel the cold and ill weather of last night?"

"Well, indeed," said the Eagle, "I didn't notice one jot of the wild weather that you're talking of."

"Heavy was your slumber then," said the Crow. "I never experienced any night myself that was one half as venemous as it was--and signs on me! I am come now to you to find out from you did there ever come any night in your time that was colder than it; because I was laying out in my own mind that you are older than I am."

"I have no right-certainty as to my own age," said the Eagle; "but even if I had, I know that there is another creature who is still alive in the world and who is very much older than I am."

"Who is that?" said the Crow.

"He is the Blind Trout of Assaroe," said the Eagle. "Go you, now, to that Trout, and perhaps you might get the solving of your question from him."

The Crow went off and he never stopped nor stayed until he came as far as Assaroe, and he found out the Trout. He told his story then to the Trout, and told him that he came to find out from him if there had ever come a night in the world that was as cold as last night.

"There did, and a thousand times colder," said the Trout.

"I'd scarcely believe you,"[40] said the Crow.

[40] Literally "it's badly I'd believe you."

"Why, then," said the Trout, "if you don't believe me, you can go to an older authority than I."

"And who is that authority?" said the Crow.

"The Old Woman of Beare," said the Trout.

"I'll go right away to her this moment,"[41] said the Crow.

[41] Literally "now itself."

"Wait yet," said the Trout, "until I tell you my own story. I was swimming on the surface of this pool one fine calm evening, as calm and as fine as any evening that ever I saw. There were thousands of flies above the pool. I sprang upward to catch the full of my mouth of them, and before I reached back again into the water there was ice on the [surface of the] water, and I was jumping and floundering on the flag of ice until the raven[42] came and picked the eyes out of my head. My share of blood began running fast[43] out of me, and I was there until the heat of the blood melted the flag of ice that was on the water, down through it, and let me down into the water again. That was the coldest night that I ever felt myself, and that is the way I lost my sight. I was christened the Blind Trout of Assaroe ever since, but some of the people call me the Old Trout of Assaroe. Alas, my bitter misfortune! I am ever since without sight."

[42] Notice the use of the definite article.

[43] Literally "thickly."

The Crow heard him out, but he would not be easy or satisfied in his own mind until he should go on a visit to the Old Woman of Beare.

"Farewell, Trout," said he, "I must go to the Old Woman now until I hear her own story."

"May your journey succeed with you Crow, you will have neither loss nor hurt in the house of the Old Woman," said the Trout.

The Crow went off then, and he never stopped nor stayed until he came to the Old Woman's house.

"Welcome, O Crow out of Achill," said she. "What is this has happened to you, or where are your plumage and feathers?"

"They are gone with the big wind," said he; and with that he told his story to the Old Woman from beginning to end, and he put the same question to her that he had put before that to the Eagle and to the Trout--Did she ever feel any night that was as sore and venemous as last night?

"That's true for you," said she; "I did feel a little stroke of cold at the beginning of the night, but I drew a wool pack over my head then, and I never felt anything but moonogues[44] of perspiration running off me again until morning."

[44] Literally "little bog-berries"

"Are you very old?" said the Crow; "or what age are you?"

"I have no certain date with regard to my age," said the Old Woman--"only this much. My father used to kill a beef every year, on the day I was born, in honour of my birthday, as long as he lived, and I followed the same custom, from that day to this. All the horns [of the beeves I killed] are on the loft in the barn and do you remain in my house until to-morrow, and if you like I'll send the servant boy to count them and you yourself can keep account of them" [as he numbers them aloud.][45]

[45] See the story of "The Old Woman of Beare."

On the morrow with the rise of day the servant went up to count the horns, and he spent one full year, and a day over, at that work, and after all that there was only one corner of the loft emptied.

And during all that time the Crow was taking his ease, and there was neither thirst nor hunger on him [so well was he treated] and his plumage and his feathers grew on him again.

But even so, he got tired of keeping count.

"I give you the branch" [palm of victory] said he to the Old Woman; "you are as old as the old grandmother long ago, who ate the apples," and he sped forth from the Old Woman and went home.