Buggane ny Hushtey, the Buggane-of-the-Water: A Manx FolktaleAuthor(s): Sophia MorrisonSource: Folklore, Vol. 34, No. 4 (Dec. 31, 1923), pp. 349-351Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd. on behalf of Folklore Enterprises, Ltd.Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1256555 .

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Folklore on the Coasts of Connacht. 349

no miracles since it was broken. The abuse and ridicule showered upon this object by some would-be " reformers " render it difficult to get information about it. Some even said that a similar relic was kept on Achill. The Neevoge could raise or

allay a tempest, bring a ship to be wrecked for the benefit of the islanders, and protect the boats of its devotees.1

(The late) THOS. J. WESTROPP.

1 The manuscript ends with the words " To be continued," but Mr. Westropp's regretted death has, so far as can at present be ascertained, prevented the completion of his projected survey. Section XVIII. would have dealt with Animals, and Section XIX. with Rocks and Stones. [A. R. W.]

BUGGANE NY HUSHTEY, THE BUGGANE-OF-THE-WATER: A MANX FOLKTALE.

[I received the following Manx folktale from an old Manx weaver, who emigrated to New Zealand some years ago.

(The late) SOPHIA MORRISON.]

THE buggane ny hushtey took his name, it is said, from living close to the sea in that big long cave which used to run from Garwick right through to Groudale. Some say that he is in there yet, for any dog that happens to go near the mouth of the cave will run away with his tail between his legs. The fishermen used to say that the buggane was the king of the fairies, although he was never seen with them, but it happened that the fairies were living up in the trammon (elder) trees in the brough above the mouth of the cave. This big cave had another entrance about halfway through in slack (a hollow) somewhere near to the Old Kirk Lonan Church, and it was in coming and going by this way that he was best known to the

people of Chou Traa. Some of the people had a lot of good things to say for him, as many a time he had been a friend in need to them, while others said that wherever he came nothing but bad luck followed, but they were all agreed that he had no liking for lazy people, and would never give a helping hand to ones of that sort. Now it happened that not very far from this spot there lived an old bachelor of rather eccentric habits

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350 A Manx Folktale.

who, as he was getting up in years, was getting more curious in his ways, till the neighbours often spoke of him as Moal (poor) Robin. He kept a cow or two, reared an old heifer, and prided himself on his breed of sheep, from whose backs he got all he wore but his carranes (brogues), even to his hat, and the colour of his whole rig out was loghtan (brown), except the tops of his stockings, which were white, and his knee breeches had brass buttons to match them. He had one horse, which did all the work on the place and carried him at least once a week to Douglas. As he was living alone, he had lots of odd jobs to attend to-feeding the hens, gathering the eggs, milking, churning, and making of butter. He was a bit of a mechanic too in his own way, and the repairs to his cart and harness would be causing no little amusement in the town, where he was often spoken of as Old Loghtan.

He got hold of a quarter-cask, which he cut in the middle and put new bottoms in the wide ends and made taps from

pieces of trammon for them, and when he went to town with

eggs and butter he would take a keg or two of buttermilk. To keep things safe, he tied the dog in the cart. One day a mischievous little fellow crept under the cart and tried to turn on one of the taps, when the dog made a leap and a growl. This made the horse to run; the string, it happened, was short, and the knot ran, and before the poor old fellow got to them the dog was strangled and the keg empty. That day the poor old Robin went home terribly down in the mouth, not so much for the loss of the milk as for the loss of his faithful friend and companion, who for many years slept on the mat by his bed- side. He had a bad habit of coming home late and then potter- ing about doing the carthans (odds and ends of work) by the light of a lantern. Some say that on more than one occasion the buggane took umbrage at Robin's encroachments, but this particular night, when Robin got home, he found smoke coming out of the chimney, and when he went in, to his surprise he found the fire lit and the kettle steaming away on the shlourie (chimney hook) and things on the table. To ease his mind a bit, he made a cup of tea, then he lit the lantern and went to the gate to let the cows in. The gate was open, but no

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A Manx Folktale. 351

cows could be seen or heard. Then he went to the cow- house, where he found them tied up and snug, and went for the cans to milk them, when he found that the milking was done.

" Dy saue bannie mee " (Salvation, bless me 1) he said, "jeeagh cre red ta'n Fenoddree er n'yannoo" (look what the phynnoderee has done), for there wasn't a sign or a sound of a living thing about the place.1

After the loss of his faithful friend he would be lying in his bed for hours that he couldn't get to sleep and then lying to a bit in the mornings. This kept him pottering a good deal with the lantern. As he was getting behind with the ploughing, he took the notion to put the lantern on the beam of the plough, and humming to himself all was going on smoothly for a long time, how long he couldn't remember, when all of a sudden off went the horse, plough, Robin, and all. The horse made a leap over the hedge, when away went the chains as the plough struck the hedge. Robin was thrown down and the lantern put out. In his fright Robin shouted and shouted till some of the neighbours made their way to him to see what was amiss. As luck happened, they found poor Robin more frightened than hurt. There was no sign of the horse seen, so they went home with him and saw him safe inside the house. Next day the dead body of the poor crather was found in the hole where the buggane was going and coming, and when the news went round the people gathered and rowl'd all the big stones round about into the hole, and covered them with gorse and briars and earth, and when that was done they held a confab, when they decided to take one of the crosses from the churchyard and set it in the track the buggane was taking,2 and from that day to this nobody in Chou Traa has ever seen or heard him.

1 The phynnoderee is a helpful being of the brownie type, but the buggane is a horrible and cruel being who can appear in any shape he pleases. [A. R. W.]

2 Some years ago this beautiful cross was stolen from its position. A member of the Antiquarian Society who now lies in Lonan Church- yard mentioned to me the name of the Church of England minister whom he suspected of the theft.

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