` More wood , ' cried Guddhi , and they all ran and gathered wood and heaped it on the flames , which leaped and roared and sputtered . ` We shall soon be warm now , ' said the people one to another . ` Truly Guddhu is great ' ; and they crowded round again , closer and closer . Suddenly , with a shriek , a blast of wind swept down from the hills and blew the fire out towards them . They sprang back hurriedly , quite forgetting where they stood , and all fell down the bank , each tumbling over the other , till they rolled into the pool that lay below . Oh , how cold it was in that dark water on which the sun never shone ! Then in an instant they felt warm again , for the fire , driven by the strong wind , had followed them right down to the bottom of the pool , where it burned as brightly as ever . And the fishes gathered round it as they had done on the top of the cliff , and found the flames as hot as before , and that fire never went out , like those upon land , but kept burning for ever . So now you know why , if you dive deep down below the cold surface of the water on a frosty day , you will find it comfortable and pleasant underneath , and be quite sorry that you can not stay there . Australian Folk Tale . The Wonderful Tune . Maurice Connor was the king , and that 's no small word , of all the pipers in Munster . He could play jig and reel without end , and Ollistrum 's March , and the Eagle 's Whistle , and the Hen 's Concert , and odd tunes of every sort and kind . But he knew one far more surprising than the rest , which had in it the power to set everything dead or alive dancing . In what way he learned it is beyond my knowledge for he was mighty cautious about telling how he came by so wonderful a tune . At the very first note of that tune the shoes began shaking upon the feet of all how heard it -- old or young , it mattered not -- just as if the shoes had the ague ; then the feet began going , going , going from under them , and at last up and away with them , dancing like mad , whisking here , there , and everywhere , like a straw in a storm -- there was no halting while the music lasted . Not a fair , nor a wedding , nor a feast in the seven parishes round , was counted worth the speaking of without ` blind Maurice and his pipes . ' His mother , poor woman , used to lead him about from one place to another just like a dog . Down through Iveragh , Maurice Connor and his mother were taking their rounds . Beyond all other places Iveragh is the place for stormy coasts and steep mountains , as proper a spot it is as any in Ireland to get yourself drowned , or your neck broken on the land , should you prefer that .
But , notwithstanding , in Ballinskellig Bay there is a neat bit of ground , well fitted for diversion , and down from it , towards the water , is a clean smooth piece of strand , the dead image of a calm summer 's sea on a moonlight night , XXXXX just the curl of the small waves upon it .
as below beyond by from in of on over with