 Family Theatre presents Barbara Britton, Barry Fitzgerald and Dan O'Hurleyhee. The beautiful network in cooperation with Family Theatre Incorporated brings you Barry Fitzgerald and Dan O'Hurleyhee in the old Irish legend King O'Toole and St. Kevin. To introduce the story, your hostess, Miss Barbara Britton. Thank you, Jean Baker. It is often true that artists who reach the heights in one field find their talents adaptable to nearly equal success in others. Such a man was the Dublin Irishman Samuel Lover. With little actual schooling and painting, Samuel Lover possessed the native talent that enabled him to support himself in relative comfort until 1833 when he celebrated his 36th birthday. Then he turned his painting, his pictures on paper, rather than canvas. He used words rather than oils. Shortly thereafter, he became one of the founders of the world-famous Dublin University magazine to which he contributed tales of Irish folklore. From these short tales, he branched out into longer pieces until his works included four novels and many plays. Our tale tonight is taken from his earlier writings and first appeared in a collection of legend and stories of early Aaron. Now it is my pleasure to present Barry Fitzgerald as King O'Toole and Dan O'Hurley as Joe Irwin in a radio adaptation of Samuel Lover's King O'Toole and St. Kevin, a legend of Glendaloch. Only beauty of the valley of Glendaloch has made it for centuries a haven to which people of the British Isles have come to repair their flagging spirits that they may return to winning a living in less pleasant climates. Its beauty is perhaps enhanced by the mystical tales that concern its every book and tree. At any rate, it lives in yet a new dimension when one sees it with the aid of the guides who make their living recalling the glories of its past. Such a man was Joe Irwin. Irwin's respect for the spirits of the valley inspired the flow of words that could sweep up the mystery and dreams of the past until benumbed even the skeptical found reality in the pictures Joe framed with evening shadows. Wish, no, wish, we'll stop here for a bit. Oh, no, we won't be rushing around the valley not when in every corner of it there's tales to make your eyes light up. Now, take this pile of stones. Sit you down so I'll tell you about them. This, sir, is a very holy place. It's the Chapel of the King of the O'Toole's. Of course you've often heard of the King of the O'Toole's. Oh, and you tell me so. I thought all the world far and near heard of the King of the O'Toole's. Well, the darkness of mankind is unbelievable. Well, the O'Toole was a king of the great old days of long, long ago and he loved his sport as he loved his life and hunting in particular. Boy, from dawn to dusk he beat tramping over the mountains beyond after the deer. Oh, chance me, lad, we'll wait here for a time. But, sir, young deer will be after escaping us. Ah, yes, chins, but these old legs will go no further. Oh, and as for that deer, well, there'll be many another as good in these hills. Yet it was young stag we were hunting for, me lord and what hunter will forsake one stag for another? An old one, me lad. Ah, to be young again like you turns to walk these hills again with springy foot until I've caught me stag. Then rest but a bit, sir, and we'll catch this one yet today. No, no, lad, it's back. We'll be gone. Me heart's no longer in the hunt when I know me body not take me to it. Come on, lad, let's be on our way. And so it was for the King grew old in the course of time and by that reason he was stiff in the limbs. And when he was stricken with years, his heart failed him for he was lost completely for want of a bitter diversion. He could go hunting no longer and without the hunt there was no more fun left in life for his majesty. And was with these thoughts in his mind that the young page lad Terence went out to search the countryside for a present for his King. What did you say, sir? I had... Twas, don't hurt the stag you've got bailing out of your blows, lad. Twas, I was about to say, sir, she's a goose I've brought you. Well, the devil take it. You know I have no liking for the taste of goose. Well, it is not for eating, sir. It is for diverting the King of the O'Toole. Well, indeed, it'll take more than a goose to cheer him up. Perhaps, sir, yet I notice already a smile on your face and as many a days as that was seen. Stop it, stop it! Well, now that's a great, grave goose, me boy. You'd laugh yourself to see how peck at you. Terence, it's a good serve as you've done, your King. And so it was. For the goose used to swim across the lake and go down and dive in for trout. And there are all finer trout in all Ireland than them trout in the lake there. Why, I remember four years ago when the English lord was here abouts with all his friends right to this very spot they came. And, huh, oh, oh, the goose should say, oh, yes, yes. Sir, she'd catch fish on a Friday for the King to say nothing of ember days and the frolics and tricks of the goose there made the King break his sides with that. There he is, Terence, me lad. Here, take the goose while I loosen her with that snag. Yes, sir. Here, no, be quiet. Be quiet. It'd be a good shot from here unless the rascal hears us and moves. Oh, that blasted bird, sir, she won't even ever keep quiet. No, we have lost another deer. Well, no matter, no matter. It's the hunt that matters, not the killer. That's a clever bird she gave me, Terence. I'll wager she's in league with the beast of the forest, sir. It's been months since we've had a trophy for our efforts. Yes, lad, but think of the months before then when there was no hunting. Come on, cheer up. Tomorrow we'll find a game again. And so it was. Diverted by the goose, the King soon forgot his own eels. And day after day he roamed the forests. Oh, it went mighty well until the time when the goose herself became stricken with the years and grew stiffener limbs like a master before her. Then it was that the poor King was lost completely. He was nearly heartbroken and each day found him paler and the unhappy Terence often heard his master wish for death. Aye, the King of the old tombs was melancholy indeed. The reason that the goose was no more in the flower of her bloom. Ah, this knife grows heavy on me. The days are dark and the sun gives warmth no more. Just the winter of the age that beats me again. Ah, and now even me poor goose has the frost to age on her limbs. It's a sad thing to be a King without a diversion. Yeah, perhaps it'd be better if I walked out and ate that lake and let the waters take me if they were. Good health to you, man. I didn't see as I turned the corner. Good health to you. Good health to you, King of the old tombs. True for you. I am the King of the old tombs, the prince and plenipotentiary of these parts. But how did you come to know that? It's of no matter, and I know more than that, nor twice that. And who are you that makes so bold? Ah, you never mind who I am. You'll know more of me before we part, Your Majesty. Well, I'd be proud of the knowledge of your acquaintance. Ah, well, you may say that. And now if I may make so bold to ask, how was your goose, Your Majesty? Well, the saints preserved it. Hey, how came you to know about my goose? Well, it's of no matter. I was given to understand it. Now that's folly talk, because the goose and myself are private friends. And not one could tell you burden the fairies. Ah, then it wasn't the fairies, for I don't keep the like of such company. Oh, well, now you might do worse, me gay fella, for it's they could show you a crock of money as easy as his hands. And money is not to be sneezed at by a poor man dressed such as you are. Maybe I've a better way of making money, myself. You're a holy band, you're a counterfeiter. That's impossible. I'd scorn to be the like of a counterfeiter. I'd scorn to be the like. Ah, and then what are you? That makes money so easy by your own account. I am an honest man. Ah, then you'll not be making money. I am an honest man, I repeat. Oh, tool of the outools. Well, and then how is it that you make your money so easy? Suppose and I told you that I make old things as good as new. Oh, then it's a tinker you are. Well, I'm no tinker, sir. I have a better trade than a tinker. What would I, would you say if I made your old goose as good as new? Huh, as good as new? That's my offer, O tool. What would you offer? Well, and truth, then I'd give you more money, more money than you could count if you did the like. And I'd be beholden to you into the bargain. I'd scorn your dreary money. Well, fate, then, I'm thinking a trifle of change would do your acts no harm. I have a vow against money. And I'm bicksworn never to have gold, silver, and a brass in my possession. Except I suppose the trifle can't help. You just hit it, O tool. But the way it can take no money. It could take a few acres of land if you'd give them to me. With all the fullness of my heart if you can do as much as you say. Try me, car down your goose and I can see what I'll do for her. Well, she could use me service, O tool I'll warrant she's too old to hear you. No, no, no, no, her ear is sharp but her legs are slow. She'll come along now. Isn't it enough to make your eyes fill with tears, lad? See how painful it is for the old girl to walk. Yes, yes, now there you go. Yes, yes, I know, I know. Yes, yes. Both old and like is two piece. Both old. I'll do the job for you, King, O tool. It is a pitiful sight, I see. Be the holy if you do, I'll say you're the smartest fellow in the seven parishes. You must say more than that, King, O tool. Not so feeble in my mind is to repair the old goose for nothing. Name it, man, name it. Well, what will you give me if I do the job for you? What will you give me? I'll give you whatever you ask. Fair enough? Dibble a fairer, that's the way to do business. This is the bargain I'll make with you, O tool. Will you give me all the ground the goose flies over the first time? After I make her as good as new? I will. You won't go back in your word? On a bright. On a bright, it's a bargain. No, come here, you poor old cripple. It is me self that will make you a sporting bird. And then the stranger took up the goose with the two wings and he held her a moment. Then he tossed her up in the air and he blew at her, just giving her a blast to help her. And that bird just took to her wings, flying like one of the eagles themselves and cut as many capers as a swallow before a shower of rain. And away she went and round the end of the lake there far beyond where you can see the waterfall and on with her then, right over the hills of Loch Nure stout and steady she flew over the mountain over there and over the woods of pole and ass. That's where I showed you the gorgeous waterfall on the way up. Where the poor young lady drowned herself. You'll see, it was last Thursday, it was 12 months since. And there she calls O'Toole, fresh as a daisy she is too. Ah, then my morning late as a lot you were flying. Better than ever you look. Ah, but you're the darling of the world. What do you say to me, O'Toole, of the O'Tooles that made the likes of that? Be the holy, I'll say nothing beats the art of men except maybe the bees. And do you say no more than that? And that I'm beholden to you as to know of the man. But will you give me all the ground the goose flew over? I will, sir, and you're welcome to it, though it's the last day Korea have to give. Indeed it is, for she flew the boundaries of your kingdom. Well, then take it, man, for to see me sweet my morning is so hearty, so hearty again it makes it worth the price. Then you'll keep your word through? As true as the day is long. Well, O'Toole, that you've said the word, for if you didn't say it, the sun would shine at midnight before that goose would fly again. Well, when you came you said you knew many things, but you must be black-ing and if you don't know that my word is always me-bond. Take the land, it's yours. King of the O'Tooles, I've always heard that you were a rare spot, but you're a decent man as well. I only came here to try you. And what is that to try me about, man? You don't know me because I'm disguised. Well, truth then, you do are right enough. I didn't perceive it. For there's no sign of their clover and hoof on you. Oh, that's not what I mean. I mean, I've been carting you up to your eyebrows. I've been fooling you, and I'm not myself at all. Well, then in heaven's name, man, if you're not yourself, who are you? Oh, lad, I'm St. Kevin. You're St. Kevin. You'll not need to kneel, man. Is it that the great St. Kevin that I've been discoursing all the time to without knowing it? All this time, just as if he was a lump of hooker soon. Oh, and so you were the saint. I am that, King of the O'Tooles. And I thought I was only talking to a young lad. Well, you know the differ now, for I'm St. Kevin. Well, heaven preserve me, the saint that went to school with the prophet Jeremiah. Come on, King O'Toole, we must go to the castle. There's matters to be discussed. Well, sir, that's the way the place came. All at once into the hands of St. Kevin. For the goose flew around every individual acre of the king's property. You see, the goose was led into the secret by St. Kevin, who was pretty cute. And a holy man besides him that is counted the greatest of saints because he went to school with the prophet Jeremiah. I, St. Kevin's hands were gentle ones, though, for he'd no use for the land of the King of the O'Tooles other than a plot or two of ground to build a chapel for the glory of God. And when the king found out he was still to reign over the land about him, why, then, his gratitude was greater than ever. And so, in his gratitude, he and the page boy Terence spread the tidings about the fine man that St. Kevin was. And soon all of the people profited to be the good works of the Blessed Saint and the fine old king. And so they passed their days, the best of friends from that day on, and the king was happy as a child with his diversion. Terence, Terence, will you learn? No, where is the blessed boy? Here I am, sir, and with your darling goose, too. Ha ha ha ha ha, I'm with you. And is it so that you're after Captain today? Or have you a new diversion for your own master? She is flying like the wind today, sir, and circling back and forth and round about from the crow of the crock to the song of the red breast. Ah, she's a rare one indeed. Ah, truth indeed, turns me lad. And the lady me decline in use thanks to the good St. Kevin. It's like the book says, sir, it's more blessed to give than to receive. And you'll be twice blessed, what would giving your property to the good saint. And there's the chapel we'll be building in the land over there. And you, Terence, will go soon. Is it true that you'll be booksworn to aid the good saint in this work? Aye, that is my wishing, sir, for there are many people in darkest ignorance in this land. Ah, and it's you that will be bringing them a piece of the true salvation, I suppose. Ha ha ha, but it's a real boy, Terence, that you are. But as for me, I'm sure, I suppose I must be waiting in open days with the good saint to provide me meat and drink. Ha ha, and this darling here to bring joy to me own heart with a frolic and cheese. But it was soon after that that terrible thing happened. And you'll shed a tear or two yourself when you hear it. You remember how that wonderful goose was all for catching a fine trout on Fridays and ember days for the king's supper table. Well, the king and Terence and sometimes the good saint, if his Christian duties didn't forbid it, would go down to the far end of the lake there to gladden their hearts with the shenanigans of the goose. And, of course, to wait for the tasty trout that that excellent bird would be sure to catch it. Now, must you, Terence, let me darling down into the water now because she's out for catching us all a fine supper. Oh, she's full of light, sir. There, off you go now, Christian. It's a talented goose you have, O'Toole, and it's a rare treat to watch you perform for your delight. Ah, mushers, myself, that you'd be ever grateful, dear Saint Kevin, for giving the breath of life to the whole world. It's for service. What's wrong with the goose? Sir, sir, it's a big heart for you. He's got a goose by the neck. I guess Ted James sends me that quick. Run to the foes, you old one. Oh, my morning, my morning. Can you not hear me cause you're... Terence, my lad. Terence, my lad. Terence, he's... Ah, ah, me poor darling, my cushion of grief. You see, sir, it was a mistake that the poor goose made for instead of the creature killing a trout for the king's supper, the eel killed the king's goose. And it's a sad tale to be telling for sure. But the wicked eel didn't eat the king's goose because he dared eat what the Saint Kevin had laid his holy hands on. However, the king never recovered from the loss of his goose. He, being feeble in years and doting, as I'm telling you, had the goose stuffed. Oh, not with potatoes and onions, but as a real curiosity and preserved in a glass case. And every day after that, the old king would gaze upon the poor thing fondly until it'd nearly make a heart bleed with the pity of it. And then the poor king had the case moved into his bedchamber when his old limbs had no longer carry him through the corridors. But came a day in King O'Toole's bedroom. It is well that you have seen him, Saint Kevin, for the poor man's life is near spent. Aye, and a good one it's been, I know. Shh, he'd say a word to us. Terrence. Terrence? Is it you, be boy? I, sir, just tell us. Tell me, Terrence, is the goods I've seen hear about? At your side, King of the old tools. Now, let's you rest easy and stop fretting the minutes away. There's nothing to fear. No, it's not that I fear, blessed boy. It's only that I wish to make it clear about goose. Oh, that was the joy of me declining years. For I'd not like it taken amiss about me feeling far. But being an old and a lonely man... Now, shush, now, don't be saying such things. No man is lonely, who's ruled as you have. For each man about the countryside is the friend of old tool of the old tools. And you have not but good works to recommend you, sir, for you've turned over the kingdom to the good saint and your name is spoken with reverence by every tongue. Ah, then it's the real that you are, and I'll rest easy now. But I'm worn out and tired, and I think it's time for me to go to sleep, to sleep. Saint Kevin, sir? Yes, Terence. To us a fitting farewell. For the king of the old tools, no sleep's eternal. That's the way of it. And the poor king died, and a Nicholas too. And indeed it's the truth I'm telling you, sir. He said he was after grieving himself to death over the loss of his poor old goose. But those who know say he was an old, old man, and his time had come. Now, what do you think? Affected by the things around us, by what we see and hear, by the example of others. And that's so very true in a home. If there's always a kind and encouraging word, we can't help but think bright and cheerful thoughts. And you know something? Those who are close to God are best able to be happy and cheerful. Why? Well, when you know that God is ready and able to help you, you can be confident about the future, because you know your faith and trust in Him will always bring His help. That's why when a family joins together in daily family prayer, they can be sure of happiness in their home. Yes, pray together as a family, every day, for prayer brings peace. A prayerful home is a peaceful home. The family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Wood Family Theatre has brought you Barry Fitzgerald and Daniel Hurleyhee in King O'Toole and St. Kevin, with Barbara Britton as your hostess. Our home, O'Hanrahan, was heard as Terence and Pat White as St. Kevin. Our adaptation of this old Irish lesson was written by Arthur Sawyer, with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and was directed for Family Theatre by Jaime Del Valle. This series of Family Theatre broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who felt a need for this type of program, by the mutual network which has responded to this need and by the hundreds of stars of state, screen and radio who have so unselfishly given of their time and talent here on our Family Theatre stage. This is Gene Baker inviting you to join us next week at this time when your Family Theatre will present Diner Shore and G.G. Perot in the window in the sky. Join us, won't you? This is the world's largest network, the Mutual Broadcasting System.