'twas the evening of the christmas fair of castletown, and the forge in balnagore was almost full of men and boys. a fine, frosty night it promised to be, and the roads getting every moment more slippery, some of the men who had made long journeys were waiting for their turn to get their horses' shoes sharpened, as a precaution against accidents. the majority, though, of those who stood or sat around the fire, where ned m'grane was working at his best, were the young fellows of the neighbourhood, who, as usual, had dropped in to smoke or chat, and mayhap, if their lucky star happened to be in the ascendant, to hear one of his entertaining stories from ned o' the forge.

well, one by one those who had far to travel were attended to and took their departure and then, with a big sigh of relief, ned threw down the hammer, drew on his coat and took his pipe from his pocket.

"what sort was the fair, boys?" he asked, when the first wreath of smoke from his pipe had ascended towards the ceiling.

"'twas good, ned," answered joe clinton; "but, indeed, everybody was sayin' on the way home that castletown christmas fair is nothin' now to what it used to be."

"i remember the time," said ned, "when the[pg 72] whole town, from where the new post office is now to the railway gates, used to be so full o' people an' cattle an' trick-o'-the-loops an' everythin', that you'd have to fight your way through them."

"i heard my father sayin' to james clancy an' we waitin' to be paid by the jobber," said bartle nolan, "that bacon isn't as dear now as the day jimmy the thrick doubled the grain of oats on the belfast jobber, an' they were laughin' over it. what was that about, ned?"

we became as mute as mice after this last question of bartle's, and ned m'grane was silent also for a moment or two. then when we saw him folding his arms and leaning back against the bellows we knew that a story was coming, and that bartle had played a trump card.

"it's many's the trick jimmy played in his day," said ned, with a smile, "but the doublin' o' the grain of oats was one of his best, an' one that brought him a bit o' money, too. the way it happened was this:

"it was a plan o' jimmy's sometimes at fairs an' markets to let on that he was a bit of an amadán, an' he'd talk so simple an' queer an' foolish that strange jobbers that didn't know him or his ways used to take great delight in talkin' to him, an' havin' a laugh at him, an' in the heel o' the hunt jimmy used to knock out the best penny in the fair for whatever he'd be sellin'. but he was caught nappin' one day, an' in revenge for that he doubled the grain of oats.

"he was at the christmas fair o' castletown (it's well over twenty year ago now) tryin' to sell two pigs—a white one an' a black one—an', of course, as[pg 73] usual, he was playin' the fool an' crackin' jokes with every jobber that came the way, an' seemed in no hurry to sell the pigs at all. at last up comes a quiet, tidy bit of a man, an' says he, nice an' easy, an' seemin' to care little whether he got an answer or not:

"'what do you want for the white pig there along with the black one?' says he.

"'troth then, the sorra much, sir,' says jimmy; 'all i'm askin' is three pound.'

"'all right, you can have that,' says the jobber, as quick as you please, an' he pullin' out his knife, an before jimmy had time to say a word the two pigs were marked as plain as if there was a label on them.

"'take your time there, my good man,' says jimmy, throwin' off his fool's face, when he saw the jobber walkin' away, 'take your time there,' says he, 'you're only after buyin' the white pig.'

"'oh, i beg your pardon,' says the jobber, mighty polite, 'i'm after buyin' the white pig along with the black one for three pounds. a bargain is a bargain. am i right or wrong?' says he to bartle nolan's father an' a few more o' the neighbours that were listenin' to the whole thing.

"there wasn't a man among them could deny that he was after buyin' the two pigs, an' they told jimmy that he might as well give in at once, that the bargain was made, an' that the law 'd be again him if he brought the jobber into court. so my brave jimmy had to leave his two darlin' pigs go for next to nothin', an' see himself made a fool of in real earnest, but he swore that if it was to be in twenty years he'd have revenge on the boyo from belfast.

[pg 74]

"well, a year went by and the big christmas fair came round again, an' jimmy had two fine pigs to sell, the same as usual, for he was a great man for the pigs. he was about an hour in the fair when who does he see comin' towards him but the same belfast jobber that diddled him the year before. jimmy never pretended he knew him at all, an' began leerin' an' lookin' more like a fool than he looked that day twelvemonths. the jobber let on he didn't know jimmy either, an', says he, very nice an' quiet:

"'what do you want for the pigs, my good man?'

"'och, the sorra much then, sir,' says jimmy, an' the amadán's laugh with him. 'all i ask is one grain of oats, only the doublin' of it to be left to myself for half an hour.'

"the jobber laughed, an' winked at the men standin' round; an' says he, 'i'll take them at the price, an' maybe i'd give you a pound or two for yourself as well, because you're a decent-lookin' man. the sorra much doublin' you can do on a grain of oats in half an hour,' says he.

"'maybe not, maybe not,' says jimmy, an' a twinkle in his eye; 'but we'll see,' says he.

"'bring them to the railway station,' says the jobber, an' he markin' the pigs, 'an' i'll pay you along with the rest at one o'clock.' an' off he went, chucklin' an' laughin' to himself.

"well, there was a big crowd waitin' in a shed in the railway yard to be paid at one o'clock, an' my brave jimmy was there, movin' about among the neighbours, tellin' them he was goin' to have his revenge on the belfast jobber, an' they to be all near by to hear an' see the fun.

[pg 75]

"the jobber came at last an' emptied out a big pile o' notes an' gold an' silver on to his white overcoat, an' himself an' his partner began payin' away as fast as they could hand out the money. jimmy was kept till the last, but the neighbours all waited because they knew that my boyo was up to some mischief or other. anyway, when all was paid that was due the jobber turned round an' called over jimmy, an' says he:

"'here's a man that sold me two fine pigs to-day for a grain o' corn, an' all he asked was that he might be let double it for half-an-hour, an' that that 'd be the price o' the pigs. start now, my good man, an' double your grain of oats, because the train 'll be goin' in forty minutes, an' there's no time to lose.'

"the people crowded in closer an' cocked their ears. jimmy walked in quietly in front o' them an' faced the jobber. there was no sign o' the amadán on him by this time, but there was a bit of a smile comin' an' goin' round his mouth, an' a sparkle in his eye.

"'a grain an' a grain,' says he, 'that's two grains, four grains, eight grains, sixteen grains, thirty-two grains—that's a pinch. a pinch an' a pinch, that's two pinches, four pinches, eight pinches, sixteen pinches, thirty-two pinches—that's a fistful.'

"'a fine price for two pigs,' says the jobber. an' the people round about began to laugh, but jimmy never let on he heard them, and off he started again:

"'a fistful an' a fistful, that's two fistfuls, four fistfuls, eight fistfuls, sixteen fistfuls, thirty-two fistfuls—that's a sheaf. a sheaf an' a sheaf, that's two sheaves, four sheaves, eight sheaves, sixteen sheaves, thirty-two sheaves—that's a stook.'

[pg 76]

"'a fine big one 'twould be,' says the jobber, 'bigger nor ever i saw in a cornfield.' and he began to laugh an' to jingle money in his pocket. jimmy made him no answer.

"'a stook an' a stook,' says he, 'that's two stooks, four stooks, eight stooks, sixteen stooks, thirty-two stooks—that's a stack.'

"faith, the neighbours began to give up grinnin' at jimmy, an' they gathered in closer to him, an' nodded their heads at one another, but the sorra word they had to say; an' the smile was fadin' out o' the jobber's face. jimmy kept on countin':

"'a stack an' a stack, that's two stacks, four stacks, eight stacks, sixteen stacks, thirty-two stacks—that's a haggard.'

"the jobber began to look uneasy, but jimmy saw nothin' or nobody.

"'a haggard an' a haggard,' says he, 'that's two haggards, four haggards, eight haggards, sixteen haggards—that's a townland.'

"you could hear the people breathin', an' the jobber was gettin' pale, but jimmy kept on:

"'a townland an' a townland, that's two townlands, four townlands, eight townlands, sixteen townlands, thirty-two townlands—that's a barony.'

"'a barony——'

"'eh! hold on, my good man,' says the jobber, 'i'm afraid i'll be late for my train. i was only jokin'. i'll give you five pound apiece for the pigs.'

"'the time isn't half up yet,' says jimmy, 'stay where you are,' an' on he went.

"'a barony an' a barony, that's two baronies, four[pg 77] baronies, eight baronies, sixteen baronies, thirty-two baronies—that's a county.'

"'listen here!' says the jobber; but jimmy wouldn't listen.

"'a county an' a county, that's two counties, four counties, eight counties, sixteen counties, thirty-two counties—that's ireland!' says jimmy, with a shout, an' he gave the jobber a slap on the back that made him jump.

"'you owe me all the oats in ireland, my fine clever fellow, an' not more than half the time's up yet. if i kep' on countin' it's the oats o' the whole world you'd have to be givin' me at the end of half an hour. you met a fool last year, but he isn't at all, at all as soft as he looks. when are you goin' to pay me?'

"the poor jobber was shakin' an' shiverin' like a man in a fit. he was afraid, i think, that the neighbours 'd back up jimmy, an' give him a taste o' their sticks if he failed to pay.

"'oh, sir!' says he, 'don't be too hard on me. sure i haven't the price of one haggard let alone all the haggards in ireland. there's all i have in the world—fifty pound—an' you can have it an' welcome for your two pigs.'

"'well,' says jimmy, 'as it's christmas times an' i'm a soft-hearted man, i'll let you off easier than you deserve. give me a twenty pound note, an' i'll forget that you owe me the rest!'

"the jobber was glad to get off so cheap, an' from that day to this he was never seen at the fair o' castletown.

"an' that's how jimmy the thrick doubled the grain of oats."