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diff --git a/old/67609-0.txt b/old/67609-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 08b54ee..0000000 --- a/old/67609-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6120 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition. -Argyllshire Series. No. V, by John Gregorson Campbell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition. Argyllshire Series. No. V - Clan Traditions and Popular Tales of the Western Highlands and - Islands - -Author: John Gregorson Campbell - -Editors: Jessie Wallace - Duncan MacIsaac - -Contributor: Alfred Nutt - -Release Date: March 12, 2022 [eBook #67609] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Susan Skinner, Thomas Frost and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAIFS AND STRAYS OF CELTIC -TRADITION. ARGYLLSHIRE SERIES. NO. V *** - - - -[Illustration: Vol. V.] - - - - - Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition. - - Series initiated and directed by - - LORD ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. - - -------------- - - Demy 8vo, cloth. - - _ARGYLLSHIRE SERIES._ - - -------------- - - VOLUME I. - - CRAIGNISH TALES. - -Collected by the Rev. J. MACDOUGALL; and Notes on the War Dress of the -Celts by LORD ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL, xvi, 98 pages. 20 plates. 1889. 5_s._ - - --- - - VOLUME II. - - FOLK AND HERO TALES. - -Collected, edited (in Gaelic), and translated by the Rev. D. MACINNES; -with a Study on the Development of the Ossianic Saga and copious Notes -by ALFRED NUTT. xxiv, 497 pages. Portrait of Campbell of Islay, and two - illustrations by E. GRISET. 1890. 15_s._ - - “The most important work on Highland Folk-lore and Tales since - Campbell’s world-renowned Popular Tales.”--_Highland Monthly._ - - “Never before has the development of the Ossianic Saga been so - scientifically dealt with.”--HECTOR MACLEAN. - - “Mr. Alfred Nutt’s excurses and notes are lucid and scholarly. They - add immensely to the value of the book, and afford abundant evidence - of their author’s extensive reading and sound erudition.”--_Scots - Observer._ - - “The Gaelic text is colloquial and eminently idiomatic.... Mr. - Nutt deserves special mention and much credit for the painstaking - and careful research evidenced by his notes to the tales.”--_Oban - Telegraph._ - - --- - - VOLUME III. - - FOLK AND HERO TALES. - -Collected, edited, translated, and annotated by the Rev. J. MACDOUGALL; - with an Introduction by ALFRED NUTT, and Three Illustrations by E. - GRISET. 1891. 10_s._ 6_d._ - - --- - - VOLUME IV. - - THE FIANS; - - OR, - - STORIES, POEMS, AND TRADITIONS - - OF - - _FIONN AND HIS WARRIOR BAND_. - - Collected entirely from Oral Sources by JOHN GREGORSON CAMPBELL - (Minister of Tiree); with Introduction and Bibliographical Notes by -ALFRED NUTT. Portrait of Ian Campbell of Islay, and Illustrations by E. - GRISET. - - -[Illustration: THE LATE REV. J. G. CAMPBELL] - - - - - WAIFS AND STRAYS OF CELTIC TRADITION. - - --------- - - _ARGYLLSHIRE SERIES._--No. V. - - --------- - - CLAN TRADITIONS - AND POPULAR TALES - - OF THE - - WESTERN HIGHLANDS AND ISLANDS, - - _Collected from Oral Sources_ - - BY THE LATE - REV. JOHN GREGORSON CAMPBELL. - _MINISTER OF TIREE._ - - SELECTED FROM THE AUTHOR’S MS. REMAINS, - AND EDITED BY - - JESSIE WALLACE AND DUNCAN MAC ISAAC, - - WITH INTRODUCTION BY - ALFRED NUTT. - - _PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR AND ILLUSTRATIONS._ - - - LONDON: - DAVID NUTT, 270–271 STRAND. - --- - 1895. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - PREFACE, vii - - INTRODUCTION: ALFRED NUTT, ix - - Memoir of the late Rev. John Gregorson Campbell. His work as a - folk-lorist. The present work. - - - CLAN TRADITIONS. - - MACLEANS OF DUART, 1 - - DEATH OF BIG LACHLAN MACLEAN, 5 - - MACLEANS OF COLL, 7 - - BROWNS OF TIREE, 12 - - THE STORY OF MAC AN UIDHIR, 18 - - STEEPING THE WITHIES, 24 - - LITTLE JOHN OF THE WHITE BAG, 25 - - THE KILLING OF BIG ANGUS OF ARDNAMURCHAN, 26 - - THE LAST CATTLE RAID IN TIREE, 29 - - LOCHBUIE’S TWO HERDSMEN, 32 - - FINLAY GUIVNAC, 44 - - BIG DEWAR OF BALEMARTIN, 51 - - THE BIG LAD OF DERVAIG, 53 - - DONALD GORM OF SLEAT, 59 - - DONALD GORM OF MOIDART, 62 - - THE BLACK RAVEN OF GLENGARRY, 63 - - THE OLD WIFE’S HEADLAND, 65 - - A TRADITION OF ISLAY, 67 - - FAIR LACHLAN OF DERVAIG, 70 - - - LEGENDARY HISTORY. - - PRINCESS THYRA OF ULSTER AND HER LOVERS, 74 - - GARLATHA OF HARRIS, 80 - - - STORIES ABOUT THE FAIRIES. - - A HOUSEWIFE AND HER FAIRY VISITOR, 83 - - THE WISE WOMAN OF DUNTULM AND THE FAIRIES, 86 - - - FOLK TALES. - - THE TWO BROTHERS, 91 - - THE TWO SISTERS AND THE CURSE, 95 - - HOW THE DAUGHTER OF THE NORSE KING THINNED - THE WOODS OF LOCHABER, 101 - - HOW O’NEIL’S HAIR WAS MADE TO GROW, 108 - - - BEAST FABLES. - - THE WOLF AND THE FOX, 115 - - THE FOX AND THE BIRD, 119 - - THE WREN, 120 - - THE TWO DEER, 123 - - THE TWO HORSES, 124 - - THE TWO DOGS, 124 - - THE CAT AND THE MOUSE, 126 - - - BOY’S GAMES. - - KING AND KITE, 128 - - PARSON’S MARE HAS GONE AMISSING, 130 - - HIDE AND SEEK, 131 - - - APPENDIX. - - I.--FINLAY GUIVNAC, 133 - II.--PORT NAN LONG, 133 - III.--A TRADITION OF MORAR, 135 - IV.--LETTERS FROM THE LATE CAMPBELL OF ISLAY, 138 - - - - -PREFACE. - - -It has been thought well and due, by those who knew the late J. G. -Campbell of Tiree, to give to the public more tales collected by him, -and his sister has made over the following collection, selected by -herself from among the tales gathered in the course of many years. We -send them forth as a fitting memorial to his memory, and as another -stone added to the cairn lovingly erected by old friends. At the end -will be found a few letters which passed between the late minister and -the late Iain Campbell of Islay, showing the methods of collecting -followed by these two lovers of the folk-lore of their native land, and -which in consequence cannot but prove of interest and value to those -who have followed the steps of the gleaning of folk-tales throughout -the British Isles--we may add throughout the world. These patient -labourers in such fields were the true pioneers of the movement in -Scotland. - -Notes, where not otherwise stated, are the author’s or editors’; those -signed A.N. are due to Mr. Alfred Nutt; those signed A.C. to the -undersigned. - - ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. - -_Feb. 11, 1895._ - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - -MEMOIR OF THE LATE JOHN GREGORSON CAMPBELL, MINISTER OF TIREE. - - [_The following Memoir is chiefly from information given by Mr. - Campbell’s sister, Mrs. Wallace of Hynish, thanks to whose unwearied - and sympathetic assistance it was that the previous volume in the - series, ‘The Fians,’ was made ready for and passed through the press, - and that the present volume has been selected and put together from - the mass of the material left by the author_]. - - -John Gregorson Campbell was born at Kingairloch, in Argyllshire, in -the year 1836, the second son and fourth child of Captain Campbell of -the _Cygnet_ and of Helen MacGregor, his wife. The fondness for study, -the devotion to his native literature and lore, which were such marked -features of his life, and which earned for him an abiding reputation -as a Gaelic student, would seem to have been his by birthright. His -maternal grandfather was an ardent Gael, as may be judged by the -letters that passed between him and Dr. Mackintosh. On his mother’s -side he was descended from Duncan MacGregor, 13th in direct descent -from the first MacGregor who settled at Roro, in Glenlyon, Perthshire, -whilst through a paternal ancestor he traced back to a race that had -had dealings with the ‘good people,’ and on whom a _bean shith_ had -laid the spell ‘they shall grow like the rush and wither like the fern’ -(_fàsaidh iad mar an luachair ’s crìonaidh iad mar an raineach_). - -The house of his birth on the shores of Loch Linnhe was small and -lonely, and when he was three years of age his parents removed to -Appin. His childhood was that of many young Highlanders. From earliest -boyhood he attended the parish school in the Strath of Appin, walking -daily with his older sisters the long stretch that separated it from -his father’s home. He loved to recall his early schooldays, and their -memory was ever dear to him. He had learnt more, he was wont to say in -after years, at that school than at all his other schools put together. -And on the hillside and along the valley, traversed twice daily, he -drank in a love for and knowledge of nature in all her manifestations -that remained to him as a priceless possession throughout life. At ten -he was sent to Glasgow for further schooling, passed first through the -Andersonian University, and went thence to the High School, preparatory -to entering College. We have interesting glimpses of him at this -period. He seems to have been a dreamy, quick-witted but somewhat -indolent lad of whom his masters said, ‘if Campbell likes to work -no one can beat him’; hot-tempered too, as Highlanders, rightly or -wrongly, are credited with being. The only Highlander in the school, -he had doubtless much to put up with. His Glasgow schoolfellows had -probably as little liking for Highlanders as Baillie Nicol Jarvie -himself, and many were the petty persecutions he had to endure. He -has himself related how he suffered several hours imprisonment for -fighting another boy ‘on account of my country.’ Like all who are -steadily bilingual from early youth he recognised how powerful an -intellectual instrument is the instinctive knowledge of two languages, -and was wont to insist upon the aid he had derived from Gaelic in the -study of Hebrew and Latin. To one familiar with the complex and archaic -organisation of Gaelic speech the acquisition of these languages must -indeed be far easier than to one whose first knowledge of speech is -based upon the analytic simplicity of English. - -From the High School he gladly passed to College, where a happier -life and more congenial friendships awaited him. He had many Highland -fellow-students, and at this early date his love for the rich stores -of oral tradition preserved by his countrymen manifested itself. He -sought the acquaintance of good story-tellers, and began to store up -in his keenly retentive memory the treasure he has been so largely -instrumental in preserving and recording. - -After leaving college he read law for awhile with Mr. Foulds. In his -lonely island parish he later found his legal training of the utmost -assistance. Many were the disputes he was called upon to settle, and, -as he has recorded, few there were of his parishioners who needed to -take the dangerous voyage to the Sheriff’s court on a neighbouring -island. At once judge and jury his decisions commanded respect and -acquiescence. At this period, and for some time previously, his -interest in and mastery of Gaelic legendary lore are shown by the fact -that he acted as Secretary to the Glasgow University Ossianic Society, -founded in 1831 by _Caraid nan Gàidheal_, and still flourishing. - -His thoughts and aspirations had early turned towards the church, and -in 1858 he was licensed by the Presbytery of Glasgow. But suffering as -he then was from the effects of inflammation of the lungs, the result -of a chill caught in his student days, and the effects of which were -perceptible throughout life, he was forbidden to preach for six months. -The interval, spent in recruiting his shattered health, was profitable -to his growing zeal for folk-lore studies. In Ayrshire or at Blair -Athole he showed himself a keen and sympathetic collector of floating -oral tradition. - -In 1860 he accepted the appointment to the united parishes of Tiree -and Coll from the Duke of Argyll, and took up the work which was to -occupy the remaining thirty years of his life. It is to be wished -that a sphere of activity more commensurate with his abilities had -been accepted by him, as when he was offered the assistantship of St. -Columba, Glasgow, and he seems at times to have felt as much. But such -thoughts were certainly no hindrance to the performance of his duty, -interpreted in the largest and most liberal sense. He was the guide and -counsellor of his flock, who turned to him with unfailing confidence -for advice, exhortation, or reproof. An amusing instance of his -parishioners’ belief in his capacity may be cited; a sailor lad from -Tiree got, as sailor lads will, into some row in Spain and was marched -off to jail. He took the matter philosophically, remarking, ‘so long -as the minister is alive I know they can’t hurt me’ (_bha fhios agam -co fad’s a bha ’m ministear beò nach robh cunnart domh_). The esteem -and affection in which he was held by his parishioners were cordially -reciprocated by him. He is reported as saying that nowhere could be -found a more intelligent community than the Duke’s tenantry in Tiree, -and in the preface to Volume IV. of the present series he bears witness -to the knowledge, intelligence, and character of his informants. - -We do not go far wrong in conjecturing that the minister’s zealous -interest for the preservation and elucidation of the native traditions -was not the least potent of his claims upon the respect and love of his -flock. How keenly the Highlander still treasures these faint echoes of -the past glories and sorrows of his race is known to all who have won -his confidence. Unhappily it has not always been the case that this -sentiment has been fostered and turned to good account by the natural -leaders of the people as it was by John Gregorson Campbell. - -In the guidance of his people, in congenial study, in correspondence -with Campbell of Islay and other fellow-workers, specimens of which -will be found in the appendix (_infra_ 138), time passed. His mother -died in 1890 at the manse, and his health, for long past indifferent, -broke down. The last years of his life were solaced and filled by the -work he prepared for the present series. At last, Nov. 22nd, 1891 he -passed from his labours and sufferings into rest, the rest of one who -had well earned it by devotion to duty and to the higher interests of -his race. - -In person Campbell was tall and fair, with deep blue eyes full of life -and vivacity. He was noted at once for the kindliness of his manner, -and for the shrewd causticity of his wit. The portrait which serves -as frontispiece is taken from the only available photograph, and -represents him in middle life. - - -HIS WORK AS A FOLK-LORIST. - -The Gaels of Scotland cannot be accused of indifference to the rich -stores of legend current among the people. From the days of the Dean of -Lismore, in the late 15th century, onwards, there have not been wanting -lovers and recorders of the old songs and stories. Unfortunately, in -the 18th century, a new direction was given to the national interest in -the race traditions by the Macpherson controversy. I say unfortunately, -because attention was thereby concentrated upon one section of -tradition to the neglect of others equally interesting and beautiful, -and false standards were introduced into the appreciation and criticism -of popular oral literature. Valuable as are the materials accumulated -in the Report of the Highland Society, and generally in the voluminous -literature which grew up round Macpherson’s pretentions, they are far -less valuable than they might be to the folk-lorist and student of the -past, owing to the misapprehension of the real points both of interest -and at issue. Two generations had to pass away before Scotch Gaelic -folk-lore was to be studied and appreciated for itself. - -To Campbell of Islay and the faithful fellow-workers whom he knew how -to inspire and organise, falls the chief share in this work, belongs -the chief honour of its successful achievement. The publication of -the _Popular Tales of the West Highlands_ was epoch-making, not only -in the general study of folk-lore, but specially for the appreciation -and intelligence of Gaelic myth and romance. No higher praise can be -given to John Gregorson Campbell than that his folk-lore work is full -of the same uncompromising fidelity to popular utterance, the same -quick intuition into, and sympathetic grasp of popular imagination as -Islay’s. His published work has indeed a somewhat wider range than that -of _Leabhar na Feinne_ and the _Popular Tales of the West Highlands_, -as it deals also with those semi-historic traditions, the nearest -equivalent the literature of these islands can show to the Icelandic -family sagas, which Islay excluded from the two collections he issued. -The following is a complete list, so far as can be ascertained, of the -published writings of John Gregorson Campbell, in so far as they relate -to the legendary romance, history and folk-lore of Gaelic Scotland. - - - IN THE “CELTIC REVIEW,” (1881–85). - - No. I. p. 61, West Highland Tale: How Tuairisgeal Mòr was - put to death. - - ” II. p. 115, The Muileartach: a West Highland Tale.[1] - - ” III. p. 184, West Highland Tale: How Fionn went to the - Kingdom of Big Men.[2] - - ” IV. p. 262, West Highland Tale: MacPhie’s Black Dog. - - - IN THE TRANSACTIONS OF THE INVERNESS GAELIC SOCIETY. - - Vol. XIII. (1888) p. 69, Tale of Sir Hallabh O’Corn. - - ” XIV. (1889) p. 78, Healing of Keyn’s Foot. - - ” XV. (1890) p. 46, Fionn’s Ransom. - - ” XVI. (1891) p. 111, The Pigmies or Dwarfs (_Na h-Amhuisgean_). - - ” XVII. (1892) p. 58, The Fuller’s Son or School of Birds. - - - IN THE CELTIC MAGAZINE, VOL. XIII, (1887–88.) - - No. 148, p. 167, Battle of Gavra or Oscar’s Hymn. - - ” 149, p. 202, do. do. do. (Continued).[3] - - - HIGHLAND MONTHLY. - - Vol. I. No. 10. p. 622, Introduction, &c. - - - WAIFS AND STRAYS OF CELTIC TRADITION. - - Argyllshire Series, No. I.: The Good Housewife (p. 54–69). - - Argyllshire Series, No. IV.: The Fians: or Stories, Poems, and -Traditions of Fionn and his Warrior Band. Collected entirely from oral -sources. 1891. - -In presenting his material to the English reader Campbell may -profitably be compared with Islay. In few ways was the work of the -latter more fruitful than in his mode of rendering Gaelic into English. -It is impossible, for instance, to look at the work done of late by -the distinguished Irish folk-lorists who are adding a new chapter -to Gaelic romance, at the work of Douglas Hyde and W. Larminie and -Jeremiah Curtin, and not recognise how much in point of colour and -tone and smack of the soil their translations excel those of the -pre-Campbell generation. Islay may, at times, have pushed his theory of -idiomatic fidelity too far, occasionally where he aims at a rendering -he achieves a distortion, but as a whole the effect of strange, wild, -archaic atmosphere and medium is given with unerring--one would call -it skill, did one not feel that it is the outcome of a nature steeped -in the Gaelic modes of conception and expression, and bold enough to -invent the English requisite to give an adumbration of them. For indeed -the speech of the _Popular Tales_ is a distinctive variety of English, -deserving study both from the philologist and the artist in words. -Islay himself never handled this speech to better effect than did John -Gregorson Campbell in the fine tale, for instance, of Sir Olave O’Corn -(_Gaelic Soc. of Inverness_, Vol. XIII.), or in the _Muileartach_ -(_Waifs and Strays_, Vol. IV.), though as a rule he keeps closer than -Islay to the ordinary standard of English expression. Readers of -this volume cannot fail to note the exceeding skill with which the -pithy, imaginative turns of thought, so plentiful in the original, are -rendered into English. The reader is at once taken out of nineteenth -century civilisation, and, which is surely the first thing required -from the translator, by the mere sound and look of the words carried -back into an older, wilder, simpler and yet, in some ways, more -artificially complex life. The difficulty of rendering Gaelic into -English does not lie in the fact of its possessing a rude simplicity -which the more sophisticated language is incapable of reproducing, but -rather in that, whilst the emotions and conceptions are close to the -primitive passions of nature in a degree that our civilisation has -long forsworn, the mode of expression has the richness of colour and -elaborate artificiality of a pattern in the Book of Kells. To neglect -the latter characteristic is to miss not only a salient feature of the -original but to obscure the significance of a dominant factor in the -evolution of Gaelic artistry. - -That Campbell, like Islay, felt the paramount necessity of endeavouring -to reproduce the formal characteristics of his Gaelic text is certain; -like Islay, he too, had the true scholar’s regard for his matter. -To put down what he heard, to comment upon what he found, was his -practice. It seems obvious, but many collectors neglect it all the -same. Nor in his essays at interpretation is he other than in full -sympathy with his subject. He not only understands but himself -possesses the mythopoeic faculty, and if this is endowed with a wider -knowledge, a more refined culture than belonged to the Gaelic bards -who first gave these songs and stories their present shape, or to -the peasants and fishermen who lovingly repeat them, it differs in -degree only, not in kind. It may be doubted that the framers of the -_Muileartach_ consciously embodied the conceptions which Campbell has -read into the old poem (_Waifs and Strays_, IV. pp. 131–135), but I -think it certain that he does but give shape with the precision of a a -higher culture to ideas which, with them, never emerged from the stage -of mythic realisation. - - -THE PRESENT WORK. - -Most of the matter contained in the present volume had been partially, -if not definitely, prepared for press by the author. The choice and -arrangement are largely due to his sister, Mrs. Wallace, his devoted -fellow-worker. Still it must not be forgotten that we have here a -collection of posthumous remains which have not enjoyed the benefit of -the author’s final shaping and revision. But it has been judged best by -the editors of the series to preserve these remains substantially as -they were left, with a minimum of indispensable revision. The volume -may lose in other respects, but it is, at all events, the work of the -author and not of his editor friends. The latter have felt that regard -for the genuineness of Mr. Campbell’s text was the first of their -duties towards his memory. - -This volume thus represents the contents of Campbell’s note-books -rather than provides such an ordered collection of material, bearing -upon a particular section of Gaelic folk-lore, as he has furnished in -the preceding volume of this series. But for this very reason it yields -better evidence to the wealth and variety of Gaelic popular tradition. -A large portion of the book is local legendary matter, and is closely -analogous to what the Icelandic Sagas must have been in one stage of -their development, a stage overlaid by the artistry of a greater school -of prose story tellers than ever took the sagas of Gaelic Scotland in -hand. Professor York Powell has well analysed the phase through which -such stories as those of Burnt Njal or Egil Skallagrimm’s son must have -passed before they reached the form familiar to us.[4] He describes the -popular narrator working up a mass of local, fairly authentic detail -about his hero, running it into a conventional mould, and then fitting -the result into a scheme of wider historic scope. The Gaelic matter -preserved alike by Mr. Campbell in this volume and by Mr. MacDougall -in the first volume of the series has not got beyond the local anecdote -stage, though, as in the variant forms of the tale of the Grizzled -Lad and MacNeill (p. 5, _et seq._), we can see the conventionalizing -process at work, accentuating certain details, discarding others, with -the view of transmuting the blurred photographic variety of life into -the clear-cut unity of art. But the process is rudimentary. It is -strange that this should be so considering the wealth of conventional -situations that lay ready to the hand of the Gaelic story teller in -the highly elaborated sagas of Cuchulainn and of Finn, for the purpose -of moulding the achievements of historical Campbells, MacLeans and -MacNeills, into a satisfactory artistic form. Such convention as is -apparent in these scraps of sagas is related to that of the folk-tale -rather than to that of the great heroic legends. An interesting example -is afforded by the story of Mac an Uidhir. This may well have a basis -of fact, indeed Campbell cites an actual analogue, but it has been -run into the shape of an ordinary separation and timely-recognition -folk-tale. Other instances will present themselves to the reader and -afford instructive study of the action and reaction upon each other of -folk-life and oral narrative legend. - -Any fresh addition of moment to the considerable recorded mass of -Scottish local historic tradition increases the wonder that material -of such vigour and interest, full of the clash of fierce primitive -passion, rich in character, should have had so little literary outcome. -The stuff is not inferior to that of the Icelandic tales, but instead -of a first-rate contribution to the world’s literature we have only a -chaos of unworked up details. Yet during the time that these implanted -themselves and took shape in the popular memory, Gaelic story-tellers, -elaborating and perpetually readapting the old mythic and heroic -traditions of the race, were producing narratives of rare and exquisite -charm. Perplexity is intensified if, as Professor Zimmer maintains, -the Norsemen learnt the art of prose narrative from the Irish and -developed the great school of Icelandic story telling on lines picked -up in Gaeldom. Certain it is that the Irish annals, relating the events -of the 3rd to 9th centuries, which assumed their present shape sometime -in the 10th to the 12th centuries, contain a large amount of historic -narrative that is closely allied in form and spirit to the contemporary -Scotch Gaelic sagas. There is the same directness of narrative, the -frequent picturesqueness of incident, the pithy characterisation; -there is also the same failure to throw the material into a rounded -artistic form, and, most curious of all resemblances, the conventions -at work distorting historic fact are those of the folk-tale rather -than of the national heroic epos. I would cite in this connection -certain episodes of the Boroma[5] (in itself an admirable example of -the failure of Gaelic story tellers to work up into satisfying form -very promising historical material) such as that of Cumascach’s visit -to Brandubh, or again many passages in the stories about Raghallach and -Guaire. The whole subject is, as nearly everything else in the record -of Gaelic letters, fraught with fascinating perplexities. The present -writer can but here, as he has so often done before, make a big note of -interrogation and trust that Gaelic scholars on both sides the water -will consider the problem worth study, and succeed in solving it. - -I note those points which interest me as a student of tradition in -general, and of Celtic tradition in particular. For most readers these -scraps of local history derive their chief value from the vivid light -they flash back upon the past, from the evidence they yield of the -wild, fierce--I had almost written savage--life from which we are -separated by so few generations. Some there may be to mourn for the -past. Not a few Highland landlords will possibly regret the good old -days when the MacLean planted his gallows in the midst of the island of -Tiree, and the last comer with his rent knew what awaited him (p. 13). -Truly a more effectual means of getting in the money than by writ which -the sheriff cannot execute. - -The remainder of the volume comprises matter more upon the usual -folk-lore lines; much, familiar already but valuable in the good -variant form here recorded, much again novel, like the curious tale -of the Princess Thyra and her lovers. Taken in conjunction with the -author’s previous volume in this series on the Finn tradition as still -living in the Western Highlands, the whole offers a faithful picture of -the imagination, memory, and humour of the Gaelic peasant playing round -the old-time beliefs, stories and customs handed down to him from his -forefathers. - - ALFRED NUTT. - -I append a list of the chief informants from whom Mr. Campbell derived -the material contained in Vol. IV. and V. of the Argyllshire series of -_Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition_. - - Malcolm MacDonald, Scarnish, Tiree. - Malcolm MacLean, Kilmoluaig, Tiree. - Hugh MacDonald, do. do. - John MacLean, (bard), Balemartin, Tiree. - Hugh Macmillan, (tailor), Tobermory. - Angus MacVurrich, Portree, Skye. - Duncan Cameron, (constable), Tiree. - Allan MacDonald, Mannal, Tiree. - Donald Mackinnon, Balevoulin, Tiree. - John Cameron, (_Iain MacFhearchar_), Balevoulin, Tiree. - Archibald Mackinnon, (_Gilleasbuig ruadh nan sgeirean dubha_), Tiree. - Donald Cameron, Ruaig, Tiree. - Donald MacDonald, Mannal, Tiree. - Malcolm Sinclair, Balephuil, Tiree. - John MacArthur, (tailor), Moss, Tiree. - Duncan MacDonald, Caolis, Tiree. - Neil MacLean, (the elder), Cornaig, Tiree. - - - NOTES: - -[1] Reprinted The Fians. p. 131–158. - -[2] Reprinted The Fians. p. 175–191. - -[3] Reprinted The Fians, p. 28–48. - -[4] Folk-Lore, June, 1894. - -[5] The _Boroma_, the story of the tribute imposed upon Leinster by -Tuathal Techtmar in the second century and remitted in the sixth -century, has been edited and translated by Mr. Whitley Stokes, (_Rev. -Celt._) and by Mr. Standish Hayes O’Grady in _Silva Gadelica_. - - - - -CLAN TRADITIONS. - - - - -MACLEANS OF DOWART. - - -The first MacLeans, Wily Lachlan (_Lachunn Lùbanach_), and Punctilious -Hector (_Eachann Reanganach_), came to Dunolly to MacDougall. He sent -them provisions and made his men watch to see if they were gentlemen. -It was inferred they were, from their paring cheese, or, throwing the -remains of their food to the dogs. On leaving Dunolly they came to Aros -in Mull. This word Aros is the one regularly used to denote a royal -residence or palace, and the Lords of the Isles claiming an independent -sovereignty, their residence in Mull came to be called Aros, a name -which it still retains. Their residence in the north was Duntulm, -and in the Sound of Mull, Aros and Ardtornish. The view from the old -castle of Aros up and down the Sound is very commanding, and that from -Ardtornish is equally so. The MacLeans on coming to Aros found _Peddle -Mòr_ (a south country ploughman to _MacCónnuill_ of the Isles) who sent -them food, but gave no knife and fork, telling them to put hen’s bills -on (_guib-chearc_) to take it. On coming to him they found him bending -to repair a failing in the plank board (_fàillinn na fliuch-bhùird_), -or keel board, of a galley (_birlinn_) with which he was to go to meet -his master. - -The Lords of the Isles to make their estate appear greater employed, -from the name, evidently a south countryman at agricultural work, hence -the name Peddle which is not of Highland origin. They struck off his -head and went themselves to meet MacCónnuill whom they took prisoner, -and brought to MacDougall. He however would take nothing to do with -the captive. At the advice of an old man they then returned with their -prisoner to Aros, and got him pledged to give his daughter to one of -them. Lachlan married the daughter and got Dowart. - -It is said by some that Hector was the oldest of the two brothers, and -that when MacCónnuill the Lord of the Isles was out pleasure-sailing -with his daughter, the brothers overtook his galley and seizing him -said “The omen of your capture has overtaken you” (“_Tha manadh do -ghlacaidh ort_”). He had no ransom to offer but his daughter and -lands. Lachlan took the daughter, and with her he got the lands of -Dowart. The other got the lands of Lochbuy. MacCónnuill gave for food -to the child born of the Dowart marriage Little Hernisker with its -twenty-four islands (_Earnasgeir bheag le ’cuid eileanan_). Afterwards, -at Ardtornish, the fourth or fifth descendant of Dowart asked the then -Lord of the Isles for a livelihood (_màthair bheathachaidh_). He got -the reply, “Jump the wall where it is lowest” (“_Leum an gàradh far -an ìsle e_”) which led to Ardgour being taken from MacMaster, who was -known at the time to be no favourite with the Lord of the Isles, and -the attack made upon his land was readily commuted into a chartered -possession. The tradition is as follows: - -The Lord of the Isles was lying sick at Ardtornish. The MacCónnuill, -now commonly called MacDonald, claimed a jurisdiction independent of -the Scottish Crown till about 1493 A.D. or thereabouts, and many if not -all the chiefs of the Western Highlands and Islands paid him court. -Among others MacMaster, chief, or proprietor, of Ardgour, came to pay -his respects at that time. Ventilation was not then so much regarded -in the case of the sick as it is now, and MacMaster, being offended at -some breath from the sick chamber, said _Fùich, fùich_, an expression -of disgust and offence. Unfortunately for himself the inadvertent -expression was made a handle of, and was never forgiven to MacMaster -by the Lord of the Isles. In consequence, when the Laird of Dowart, -who was married to a near relative of his, came to ask for a means of -livelihood (_màthair bheathachaidh_) to the child born of his marriage -with the kinswoman of the Lord of the Isles, the potentate said to -him, “Jump the wall where it is lowest” (_Leum an gàradh far an ìsle -e_). The youth or young man being now of age to shift for himself, a -company of men and a boat was given him by his father, and he made for -Ardgour. A battle was then fought and MacMaster was defeated. One of -MacMaster’s sons, who was surnamed the Fox (_An sionnach_), possibly -because weakness often seeks to protect itself by wiliness and deceit -or any other artifice that will give protection. In these stormy days -any such means were more excusable. The Fox made his way to go across -at Corran to the mainland after the battle. His father’s fisherman -was then fishing in the neighbourhood of the ferry at Red Bay (_Port -Dearg_), and the Fox called to him to throw him across to the other -side. The fisherman who rejoiced in the cacophonous name of Carrascally -(_Mac-a-Charrusglaich_), was deaf to his cry, and he only said that -the cuddie fish was taking well (“_Gu ’n robh gabhail mhaith air na -cudainnean_”) or that he lost his oars, and the young MacMaster had -to hide himself in the adjoining wood. When the MacLeans came to the -place, Carrascally said that there was a fox of the MacMasters still -hiding in the wood, and the MacLeans pursued him. The cairn, or heap of -stones, is still shown where the Fox was overtaken and slain. - -Some say it was MacMaster himself, and not his son, who was flying -after the defeat by the MacLeans, and was refused to be ferried by the -fisherman, and that his son who was called the Fox, and had committed -some fraud when abroad, was caught in Inverscaddel wood and was stabbed -by MacLean. - -The fisherman, who was rascally in more than name, came to MacLean and -made claim to having done good service in having refused to help the -fugitive; and in having pointed out that he was still in the wood. -MacLean upon this put up three oars and made a gallows with them, -on which he hanged the fisherman, or Carrascally, at the hangman’s -cove (_Port-a-chrochaire_), saying if he had treated his master -as he said he had done, it might be his turn another day, and the -fisherman’s cunning recoiling upon himself has passed into a proverb -“The officiousness, or discretionary power of MacCarrascally chasing -MacMaster’s Fox,” (“_Meachanus Mhic a’ Charrasglaich ruith Sionnach -Mhic a’ Mhaighstir_”). The MacLeans have ever since retained Ardgour, -and have been esteemed for their position as Highland proprietors. -Their title in Gaelic is _Mac-’Ic-Eoghain_ (the son of the son of -Hugh). The son of the son of, or grandson, (_Mac-’Ic-_) being the word -used in the Highlands of Scotland as the patronymic of Chiefs, instead -of the O, or Grandson, used in Ireland, as O’ Donnell, O’ Brian, O’ -Meagher, &c. Thus, the son of the son of Patrick (_Mac-’Ic-Phàdruig_) -denotes Grant of Glenmoriston; the son of the son of Alexander -(_Mac-’Ic-Alasdair_), the Chief of Glengarry; son of the son of Hector -(_Mac-’Ic-Eachuinn_), MacLean who had once Kingairloch. The title of -some Chiefs is only son of (_Mac_); as, Lochiel is known as the son of -Dark Donald (_Mac Dho’uil Duibh_). The leading Highland Chief is known -as _Mac Cailein_ (the son of Colin). The House of Argyll derives its -Gaelic title from Colin, who was slain in a clan feud at the battle on -the mountain known as the String of Lorn (_An t-Sreang Lathurnach_) -when the ford, known as the Red Ford (_Ath Dearg_), ran red with blood. - - - - -DEATH OF BIG LACHLAN MACLEAN, - -CHIEF OF DUART,-- - -(_Lachunn Mòr Dhuart_). - - -The Chiefs of Duart were among the most powerful and influential chiefs -in the Highlands. Their power was absolute, bearing the control of -neither King nor Parliament, and there are many stories shewing that -they were very unsparing in visiting with their vengeance, and even -taking the lives of those who offended them. - -A very notorious sea-robber and land plunderer of whom there are many -tales in the Isle of Skye raised a _creach_, or cattle-spoil, from -MacDonald Lord of the Isles, who then occupied a fort on the site of -the present manse of Kilchoman in Islay. He managed also to circulate a -report that it was the MacLeans from Mull who were the depredators. At -that time MacLean, Duart, was ambitious to be overlord of a great part -of Islay, and _Lachunn Mòr_ came with a band of followers to Gruinard -beach in the neighbourhood of the fort. - -It is said that before leaving Mull, he was standing on the roof of -Aros Castle which overlooks the Sound of Mull and on its being pointed -out that an expedition to Islay would be very dangerous to his men, -he said, that he did not care though there should not be a MacLean in -Mull except those descended from himself. Neither he himself nor his -men came back from the ill-fated expedition. After landing at Gruinard -beach (_Tràigh Ghrunnard_) he was met by the MacDonalds. A little man, -known in tradition as the Black Elf (_Dubh Sith_) and (_Ochd-rann -bodaich_), or eighth part of a man--[In Scotch the eighth part would be -the lippie used for measuring grain and meal. According to the table to -be found in old Reckoning Books a boll consists of two pecks and each -peck of four lippies. This makes each lippie equal to an eighth part -of a boll],--offered his services for the battle to MacLean, but the -haughty Chief rejected the offer with disdain. The Black Elf then went -to MacDonald, who accepted his offer; and during all the current of the -heady fight the dwarf was observed to follow MacLean for an opportunity -to kill him with an arrow. An opportunity having at last occurred by -MacLean lifting his arm, an arrow was launched and MacLean was pierced -on the side, and fell with a deadly wound. Having lost their Chief the -MacLeans were routed with loss, and those who escaped from the battle, -having taken refuge in a neighbouring church, were destroyed by the -MacDonalds, who set the church on fire. The body of Lachunn Mòr was -taken on a sledge, there being no wheeled vehicles in those days, to -Kilchoman burying-ground. Some say that the person who took him was his -wife, and others say it was his foster-mother. His head from the motion -of the sledge nodded in a manner that made the boy who accompanied her -laugh. She was so much offended at his ill-timed merriment that she -took a sword and killed him on the spot. The site of this tragedy in -Benviger is still pointed out and the place where Lachunn Mòr himself -was buried is known to the people of the place although no headstone -marks it. - - - - -MACLEANS OF COLL. - - -The Laird of Dowart was on his way to gather rent in Tiree, and sent -ashore to Kelis (_Caolas_), Coll, for meat (_biadhtachd_). The woman of -the house told MacLean was not worth sending meat to, and Dowart kindly -came ashore to see why she said so. She said it because he was not -taking Coll for himself. Three brothers from Lochlin had Coll at the -time, Big Annla (_Annla Mòr_) in Loch Annla, another in _Dun bithig_ in -Totronald, and the third in Grisipol hill. She had thirty men herself -fit to bear arms. Dowart went to Loch Annla fort late in the evening -alone, and was hospitably received. Annla’s arrows were near the fire, -and Dowart gradually edged near them till he managed to make off with -them. This led to a fight at Grimsari and is perhaps the reason why -Dowart encouraged _Iain Garbh_ to make himself master of Coll. - -Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) was the fourth MacLean,--others say the first -of Coll. When nine or twelve months old, his mother, having become a -widow, had married MacNeill of Barra, _Iain Garbh_ was sent by his -step-father to Barra, in charge of a nurse (_ban-altruim_). This woman -was courted by a Barra-man, whom, as her charge was a pretty boy, she -at first refused. Her lover, however, got word that _Iain Garbh_ was to -be killed at MacNeill’s instigation, and told her. The three fled, in -a boat with two oars, from Barra during night. An eight-oared galley -(_ochd ràmhach_), with a steersman set off in chase. At Sorisdale in -Coll, beyond Eilereig, in the borderline (crìch) between Sorisdale -and Boust, there is a narrow sound, for which both boats were making, -and the little one was almost overtaken. It was overtake and not -overtake (_beir‘s cha bheir_). The little boat went through the sound -(_caolas_) safely, but the oars of the large boat were broken. Hence, -’The Sound of Breaking Oars’ (_Caolas ’Bhriste-Ràmh_) is the name of -the Sound to this day. The little boat put to sea again, and was lost -to sight. The Barra men went to every harbour near, “The Wooded Bay” -(_Bàgh na Coille_) &c., where they thought it might come, but they -never saw it again. It is supposed it went to Mull. There is no further -mention of the Barra man or the nurse. Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) went -to Ireland, and when well grown told the woman with whom he stayed -that he had a dream of a pile of oaten cakes (_tòrr de bhonnaich -choirce_) and a drip from the roof (_boinne snithe_), had fallen and -gone right through them. The woman said the dream meant he was a laird -of land (_ceannard fearainn_) and would get back his own. On this he -came to Mull, and having got men, of whom seven were from Dervaig, -the baldheaded black fellow, (_gille maol dubh_) afterwards known as -Grizzled Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) being one of them with him, went to -Coll. His companions vowed to kill whatever living (_beò_) they fell -in with first, after landing in Coll. Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) had a -mark on the forehead by his having fallen on the edge of an iron pot. -His foster-mother (_muime_) was gathering shellfish (_buain maoraich_). -He went to speak to her, when he came behind her as she stumbled, and -she exclaimed, “God be with MacLean” (“_Dia le Mac-’illeathain_”), “My -loss that MacLean is not alive” (“_Mo sgaradh nach bu mhairionn do -Mhac-’illeathain_”). When pressed to explain herself she said, “Conceal -what I said: many an unfortunate word women say” (“_Dean rùn maith orm: -is ioma facal tubaisdeach their na mnathan_”), and at last he told her -his story. It had been long foretold that he would return. The Mull men -came up, and the Grizzled Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) was going to kill the -woman, according to the vow. Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) told who she -was, and her life was spared. She informed them that MacNeill sent a -servant every day from Grisipol House, where his headquarters were, to -Breacacha for news. If all was well, the messenger was to return riding -slowly with his face to the horse’s tail; if any one returned with him, -a friend was to walk on the right of the horse, a stranger (_fògarach_) -on the left; and she said that he had just left on his way home. Stout -John (_Iain Garbh_) and his companions left the Hidden Anchorage -(_Acarsaid Fhalaich_) and went to the top of the place called Desert -(_Fàsach_). They there saw the rider of the white horse at Arileòid. -Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) promised reward to any one who would -intercept him, before he reached Grisipol. The Grizzled Lad (_Gille -Riabhach_) said he would do so, if he got Dervaig, his native place, -rent free. MacLean promised this, but the lad said, “Words may be great -till it comes to solemn oaths” (_Is mór briathran gun lughadh_), made -him swear to the deed. The Grizzled Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) set off, and -above the Broad Knoll (_Cnoc Leathan_) saw the horseman at the township -of Hough. When at the Stone of Moaning (_Clach Ochanaich_), on the top -of Ben Hough, he saw him past Clabbach. He made for the road, near the -present Free Church Manse, and lay down, and pretending to be a beggar -began to hunt through his clothes. Where the Little Cairn of the King’s -Son (_Carnan mhic an Righ_) stands, the horseman came up, was pulled -off his horse and killed. The lad then waited till his companions came -up, and proceeded to Grisipol with two on each side. It was dinner -time, and his servant the Black Lad (_Gille Dubh_) brought word to -MacNeill of the party coming. His wife, looking out of an opening, said -one of the party coming looked like her son. MacNeill exclaimed, “War -time is not a time for sleep” (“_Cha-n àm cadal an cogadh_”), and went -out to give battle. In the fight the Grizzled Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) -was hard pressed by the Black Lad, (_Gille Dubh_), and sideways jumped -the stream that runs past Grisipol House at the place still known as -the Grizzly Lad’s leap (_Leum a’ Ghille Riabhaich_) to avoid the blow -of the battle-axe. The axe stuck in the ground, and before it was -recovered, the Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_), jumping back, threw off -the Black Lad’s (_Gille Dubh_) head. Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) was hard -pressed by MacNeill himself, and both were out in the sea at the foot -of the stream. - -“Disgrace on you MacLean, though it is enough that you are being -driven by the son of the skate-eating carl” (“_Miapadh ort, a Mhic -’illeathainn, ’s leoir tha thu gabhail iomain roimh Mhac bodach nan -sgat_”), said the Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) coming up to them, and -then calling to MacNeill, “I am not in a mood to deceive you, there -they are behind you” (“_Cha bhi mi ’m brath foille dhuit, sin iad agad -air do chùlthaobh_”), and when MacNeill turned round the Grizzly Lad -(_Gille Riabhach_) threw off his head with the axe. The MacNeills fled -and were beset and killed in the Hollow of bones (_Slochd-nan-cnàmh_) -in the lower part of Grisipol Hill (_Iochdar Beinn Ghrisipol_). They -then returned to Grisipol, and MacNeill’s widow, Stout John’s (_Iain -Garbh’s_) mother, held up her child a suckling (_ciocharan_), that -Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) might spare him and acknowledge his own -half-brother. He was for sparing it, but the Grizzly Lad (_Gille -Riabhach_) told him to put the needle on the ploughshare (_cuir an -t-snathad air a’ choltar_). The child was killed. - -An additional if not a different account is: - -Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) first of Coll, when a boy, was obliged to -fly from Coll to Dowart, and his mother married MacNeill of Barra. -When he came of age, and was for making good his claim to his native -island, in raising the clan he came to a widow’s house in Dervaig. She -said her other sons were away, or they would be at his service, and -she had only a big stripling of a grizzly looking lad (_Stiall mòr de -ghille riabhach_) if he choose to take him. He took him, and it was -well for him he did. It is said that this family of whom the Grizzly -Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) was one, and whose services were at MacLean’s -command, were Campbells. MacNeill kept a man with a white horse at -Arinagour, and if the MacLeans were heard to land in the island, he -was to ride off at full speed to Breacacha. If anything was wrong the -messenger was to turn his head to the horse’s tail when he came in -sight of Breacacha. The Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) took across the -hill, where there is now a straight road, and intercepted this rider. -On hearing from him that MacNeill was at Grisipol, he suddenly leapt -behind him on the horse, and killed him with his dirk. He rode back to -his own party, and then slowly to Grisipol where the MacNeills were at -dinner. - -MacLean and his men were faint and weary for want of food. They had not -tasted anything since they left Mull. They entered a tenant’s house and -asked food. The man had nothing for them, once he had enough, but since -the MacLeans had left the island, he had come to grief and poverty. He -said to Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) his heart warmed to him, he was so -like his ancient masters. On learning who they were he gave all the -milk he had to them. - -At the fight at Grisipol, the Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) was hard -pressed by MacNeill’s body servant, who was armed with a battle-axe. -On the margin of the stream, as the axe was raised to strike down, he -leaped backwards, and upwards, across the stream, and the place of -the leap is still known as the ‘Grizzly Lad’s leap’ (_Leum a’ Ghille -Riabhaich_). The axe went into the ground, and before MacNeill’s man -could defend himself the Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) jumped back and -threw off his head. - -Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) himself was hard pressed by MacNeill, and -driven to the beach. The Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) came to his -rescue. MacNeill’s wife cried out to Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) her son -by her first marriage, that his enemies were coming behind him. The -Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) called out to him to watch his enemies -in front, and he would watch those behind. - -MacNeill and his men were killed. The Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) -said he would take to flight and pretend to be one of the MacNeills, -of whom another party was coming to the rescue from Breacacha. He fled -and made signals to the MacNeills to fly. They fled to a cave near the -Hidden Anchorage (_Acarsaid fhalaich_) where their bones are still to -be seen. - -When Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) entered Grisipol house, his mother -stood before him with a child, his half brother, on her shoulder. -She told him to look at his young brother smiling at him. Stout John -(_Iain Garbh_) was for sparing the infant but the Grizzly Lad (_Gille -Riabhach_) warned him, the child if spared to come of age would avenge -his father’s death, and he himself stabbed the infant with his dirk on -his mother’s shoulder. - - - - -BROWNS OF TIREE. - -(_Clann-a-Bhruthain_). - - -The Browns of Tiree at the present day are called _Brunaich_, sing. -_Brunach_, evidently a word not of native origin, and likely an -adaptation of the English Brown. Brown as the name of a colour is an -English word but not Gaelic, the Gaelic for it being _donn_, hence -as a clan name many affirm that the Brown of the present day is a -corruption or modification of _Bruthainn_ certainly the older name, -and till very recently, the name given to a sept or portion of the -Browns. There are also many who maintain that the oldest form of all is -_Mac-’ill-duinn_. Other explanations are also put forward in behalf of -the origin of the name, but none of them are satisfactorily conclusive. -The following story of how the Browns came first to Tiree is a -tradition as like to be true as any other. It was heard from a native -of the island, well acquainted with the traditions of his countrymen. - -The wife of MacLean of Dowart was a daughter of the Lord of the -Isles. Her father on visiting her at Aros had found her destitute of -table-linen, and on her being spoken to on the subject, she said that -there was no place on the estate where lint could be grown. Her father -then gave her the island of Tiree as a good flax-growing country, that -she might not be open to that reproach any longer. In this way the -island of Tiree remained in the possession of the Dowart family till -the forfeiture of the clan towards the end of the seventeenth century. -The MacLeans seem to have ruled the island with a rod of iron. There -is still shewn the hillock called the Bank of the Gallows (_Bac na -Croiche_), where the man who came in last with his rent at collection -time was hanged. A party of strong men called ‘MacLean’s attributes’ -(_buaidheanan Mhic-’illeathain_) but more correctly oppressors and -bullies, were kept in the island to overawe the people. - -This wife of Dowart, with her galley and men, was at Croig in Mull, -awaiting for a passage across to Tiree. When the men were getting the -galley in order, a big strong man was observed making his way to the -boat. His appearance was that of a beggar, with tattered and patched -garments (_lùirichean_). He quietly asked to be allowed a passage with -them. The master of the boat gruffly refused, saying, that they would -not allow one like him to be in the same boat with their mistress, but -the beggar said that his being there would make no difference, and -asked the favour of getting a passage from her. She gave him permission -and he seated himself at the end of the boat furthest from her to avoid -giving trouble to her. The day was becoming boisterous; it was not -long till the master said that the wind was becoming too high, and the -day unlikely. A heavy sea was shipped wetting the Lady of Dowart, and -the beggar said to the master, “Can you not steer better than that?” -The master said “Could you do better?” The beggar replied “It would not -be difficult for me to do better than that at any rate. Show me the -direction where you wish to go,” and on it being shewn to him he added -“I think you may go on that you will make land.” - -“What do you know?” the other said, “it is none of your business to -speak here.” - -The Lady then spoke, and said to the beggar, “Will you take the boat -there if you get the command of it?” He said he would, and she gave -orders to let him have the command. He sat at the helm and told them -to shorten sail, and make everything taut, and now, the boat did not -take in a thimbleful of water. They made for Tiree, and the place come -to was the lower part of Hynish, at the furthest extremity of the -island. The first place of shelter which the beggar saw, he let the -boat in there. The little cove is still known as the Port of the Galley -(_Port-na-Birlinn_) on the south side of _Barradhu_ where the present -dwellings belonging to the Skerryvore Lighthouse are. The company -landed safely, and on parting the Lady of Dowart told the beggar man -to come to see her at Island House, where the residence of the Dowart -family was at that time, and which is still the proprietory residence -of the island. The name Island House is derived from its present site -having been formerly surrounded by the water of the fresh-water lake -near it. It communicated with the rest of the island by means of a -draw-bridge, but there being now no necessity for this safeguard the -space between the house and the shore has been filled up, and the -moated grange has become like ordinary dwelling houses. The stranger -wandered about for some time, and then went to the Island House and was -kindly received. After a day or two, he thought it would be better to -get a house for himself, and the Lady of Dowart said that she would -give him any place that he himself would fix upon. Apparently the -island was not much tenanted then, and according to the custom of the -time, he got a horse with a pack-saddle on, and on the ridge of the -saddle (_cairb na srathrach_), he put the upper and lower stones of a -quern (_bràthuinn_), one on each side of the horse, secured by a straw, -or sea-bent rope, and wherever the rope broke it was lucky to build the -house there. The beggar-man’s quern fell at Sunny Spot (_Grianal_), now -better known as Greenhill. He built a bothy there, and a woman came to -keep house for him. By her he had a son, whom he would not acknowledge. -When the child was able to take care of itself she went again to him -with it that she might be free. He still refused to receive the child -and told her to avoid him. She then thought as she had heard from -him before where he came from, that she would go with her son to his -relatives in Ireland. When she arrived there the child’s grandfather -received her very kindly. She stayed with him till her son had grown to -manhood (_gus an robh e ’na làn duine_). As she was about to return the -grandfather said to his grandson, “Which do you now prefer, to follow -your mother, or stay with me?” The lad said he would rather follow his -mother, and risk his fortune along with her. They came back to Tiree -again, and the son would give no rest till they went to see his father. -When they reached the bothy the mother said “you will surely receive -your son to-day though you would not acknowledge him before.” But he -would not any more than at first. His son then took hold of him, and -putting his knee on his breast, said, “before you rise from there you -will own me as your lawful son, and my mother as your married wife.” -He did this and was set free. They then lived together and built a -house, and houses, and increased in stock of cattle. One wild evening -in spring, when they were folding the cattle, they observed a stout -looking man of mean appearance coming from Kilkenneth, still a township -in that part of the island, and making straight for the house. - -“I never saw a bigger man than that beggar,” said the son. - -“He is big,” the father said, “I well know what man it is; he is coming -after me, and I will lose my life this night, I killed his brother, but -it was not my fault, for if I had not killed him, he would have killed -me.” - -“Perhaps you will not lose your life to-night yet,” said the son, “be -kind to him, and when he has warmed himself, ask him to go out with us -to kill a cow, for the night is cold.” - -The stranger came in and was made welcome. The old man then said since -there was a stranger, and the night chilly, they better take a cow and -kill it. They went out and brought in the cow. The young man said to -the stranger, “Which would you rather, take the axe, or hold the cow’s -horn?” (_Co dhiu b’ fhearr leis an tuath na ’n adharc_). The stranger -chose to hold the horn, and the blow by which the beast was felled was -so sudden and unexpected that the stranger fell with it. The youth -immediately fell upon him and kept him down, saying, “You will only -have what you can do for yourself, till you tell why you came here -to-night (_Cha bhi agad ach na bheir thu g’ a chionn gus an aidich thu -’de thug so an nochd thu_). He told word for word how he came to avenge -his brother’s death. (_Dh’ innis e facal air an fhacal mar thainig e -thoirt mach éirig a bhràthair_). - -“You will not leave this alive” said the young man, “until you promise -not to molest my father while you remain in the country.” The stranger -vowed, if released he would not offend anyone. He was allowed to -remain and they passed the night cheerfully and peacefully (_gu sona -sàmhach_). The stranger returned the way he came. The father and son -then settled together, and are said according to tradition, to have -been the first Browns in Tiree. - -Another version of the story is, that the first settler in Greenhill -was a Campbell, and that he was the maker of those underground -dwellings (_tighean falaich_) which still exist on that farm; curious -habitations, which are unlike any building now in use, and worthy of -closer examination by antiquarians. It is said that there are buildings -with similar entrances exposed by sand blowing and covered with a great -depth of earth in Tra-vi at the distance of two miles or more further -south. - -There is a precipice on the west side of Kenavara hill called -Mac-a-Bhriuthainn’s leap (_Leum Mhic-a-bhriuthainn_) which one of this -sept of Browns is said to have jumped across backwards, and which no -one has since jumped either backwards or forwards. The one who took -the jump is said to have been chased by a wild ox, which pushed him -over the hill, and if he had not been a man of steady eye and limb, the -fall would have ended in sure destruction. The place where he leapt -was a ledge in the face of a precipice where the slightest overbalance -or weakness, would have precipitated him several hundred feet into a -dangerous and deep sea. No trained tightrope dancer ever required more -sureness of eye and limb than must have been brought into action in -this leap. - -In the top of the same hill (Kenavara) there is a well, Briuthainn’s -Well (_Tobar Mhic-a-Bhriuthainn_), which is said to have its name from -the first who came to the island having, in his wanderings, subsisted -on its water and wild water-cress. - - - - -THE STORY OF MAC-AN-UIDHIR. - - -The name Mac-an-Uidhir is not borne by any person now living, so far -as the writer is aware. Like many other names it may have been changed -into MacDonald, or some other clan-name. When a person changed his name -to that of some other clan, or powerful chief, he was said to accept -the name and clanship (_Ainm ’sa chinneadhdas_). This name must, at -one time, however, have been common. The ford between Benbecula and -South Uist is called “The ford of the daughter of Euar” (_Faoghail Nic -an Uidhir_), and Nic-an-Uidhir is also named by the Lochnell bard as a -sister of Headless Stocking (_Cas-a’-Mhogain_), a well-known witch, who -lived so long ago as when Ossian the poet was a boy (_giullan_). - - “Did ever you hear mention - Of Rough Foot-gear daughter of Euar? - She was young in Glenforsa, - When Ossian was a young boy; - She was going about as a slip of a girl - With Headless Stocking her sister. - I am a wretched creature after them - Not knowing what became of them.” - - (“An cuala sibhse riamh iomradh - Mu Chaiseart Gharbh, Nic an Uidhir? - Bha i òg an Gleann Forsa - Nar bha Oisean ’na ghiullan; - Bha i falbh ’s i ’na proitseach - Le Cas-a’-Mhogain a piuthar. - ’S mise an truaghan ’nan déigh - ’S gun fhios gu de thainig riu.”) - -The person of whom the following story is told, lived at Hynish in -the island of Tiree, and had become engaged to a young woman in the -neighbourhood. Between the espousal and marriage, the engaged couple -went with a party of friends for a sail to Heisker, near Canna. -The men of the party went ashore seal-hunting and one of the young -woman’s disappointed suitors took advantage of the opportunity to get -Mac-an-Uidhir left behind, and coming back to the boat told that the -intending bridegroom had been drowned. By this lie he hoped to make the -bride despair of seeing her intended any more, and by renewing his own -attentions, to get her to consent to accept himself. She, however, not -believing that he was dead, said that she would marry no one for a year -and a day from the date of his alleged drowning. [Heisker means high -rock,[6] and this one, near the island of Canna, is called the High -Rock of Windlestraws (_Heisgeir nan Cuiseag_). It has no one living on -it. At the present day a few young cattle are grazed upon it, and a -boat comes for them in spring from Canna, which lies to the N.E. It is -not otherwise visited except once or twice a year by seal-hunters.] - -At first, Mac-an-Uidhir subsisted on birds and fish eaten raw; after -his powder and shot were expended, he had to keep himself alive upon -whelks, or whatever he could get along the shore, principally whelks. -This sort of shellfish is said to keep a person alive though he should -have no other means of subsistence, till he becomes as black as the -shield or wing of the whelk (_co dubh ri sgiath faochaig_). The -abandoned and castaway youth lived in this way for three quarters of a -year; but at last he got away from the islet, and for the last three -months of the year was making his way home. He arrived on the night -on which the marriage of his intended to his unscrupulous rival was -to take place. He went to the house of his foster-mother, who did not -know him, his appearance through his privations having becoming so much -changed, and, he having asked to be allowed to remain for the night, -she said she was alone, and could not let a stranger like him stay. She -also told of the festivities in the neighbourhood, and said that he had -better pass the night there. He asked the occasion of the festivities: -she told him how her foster-son had been drowned, and supplanted, and -that this was the night of his rival’s marriage, saying, “If they are -happy I am sad, another one being in the place of my foster-son” (_Ma -tha iadsan subhach tha mise dubhach dheth, fear eile bhi dol an àite -mo dhalta_). She then added, “this time last year, he perished when he -went with a party to hunt seals in Heisker; his intended vowed that she -would not marry for a year, in the hope of his returning, as she had -not been quite satisfied that he had been drowned, and to-night the -time is expired.” “Let us go” he said, “to see them.” - -“You may go,” she replied, “but they are near enough to me as it is.” -He then asked her if she did not recognise him, and told who he was, -but she refused to believe him, saying her dear child (_mo ghràdh_) -could not be so much altered in the time. He put the matter out of -question by asking if she would know her own handiwork, and shewing -what was left of the hose (_osain_) she had given him, to convince her. -When she saw the labour of her own hands (_saothair a làmh fhéin_), -she joyfully welcomed him, and went with him where the marriage party -were. Those who were there were surprised to see her arrival, knowing -the sad state in which she was at this time of year, through the loss -of her foster-child. They, however, received the stranger as well as -herself with the utmost kindness. The bride made the remark, when the -stranger turned his back, that he was like Mac an Uidhir but when his -face was towards her he appeared like a stranger whom she had never -seen before; but that her heart warmed towards him. The custom was then -gone through of the stranger drinking out of the bride’s glass, and -Mac-an-Uidhir when doing this, slipped a ring into the glass, which, -she immediately recognised as that of her first lover. The whole matter -was then upset, and the party for whom the preparations were made were -dispersed, and the bride followed the fortunes of her first lover. - -Of a song made by the foster-mother to Mac-an-Uidhir, when he was -reported to have been drowned, and was looked upon as dead, the -following verses have been preserved. In the translation the literal -words are given, but no attempt is made at reducing them to the rhyme -which is essential in English poetry. - - “Thou good son of Euar - Of generous and noble heart - At one time little I thought - It would ever happen - That you would be drowned - And your boat return empty - While its irons would last - And repair was not needed - While its stern-post stood, - Its sides and prow, - While yards would hold out, - Or a fragment of its oak. - Your well ordered new plaid - Is on the surface of the grey waves - Your head is the sport of the little gull - And your side of the big gull; - Your sister is without brother - And your mother without son - Your bride without husband - And poor me without god-son.” - - Ach a dheagh Mhic an Uidhir - ’G an robh an cridhe fial farsuinn - Bha mi uair ’s beag shaoil mi - Gu ’m faodadh sid tachairt - Gu ’m biodh tus’ air do bhàthadh - ’S do bhàta tighinn dachaidh - Fhad ’s a mhaireadh a h-iaruinn - ’S nach iarradh i calcadh - Thùg horoinn O. - - Fhad ’s a mhaireadh a h-iaruinn - ’S nach iarradh i calcadh - Fhad ’s a mhaireadh a h-earluinn - Agus tàthadh ’s a saidhean - Fhad ’s a mhaireadh a slatan - Agus bloidhean d’a darach - Thùg horoinn O. - - Fhad ’s a mhaireadh a slatan - ’S bloidhean d’a darach: - Tha do bhreacan ùr uallach - Air uachdar nan glas thonn - ’S fuil do chinn aig an fhaoilinn - ’S fuil do thaobh aig an fharspaig - Thùg horoinn O. - - ’S fuil do chinn aig an fhaoilinn - ’S fhuil do thaobh aig an fharspaig: - Tha do phiuthar gun bhràthair - ’S do mhàthair gun mhac dheth - Do bhean òg ’s i gun chéile - ’S truagh mi fhéin dheth gun dalta. - Thùg horoinn O. - -There is quite a modern instance, perhaps about the beginning of this -century, of a native of the islet of Ulva, near Mull, having been -driven during a snowstorm to _Heisgeir-nan-Cuiseag_ (High Rock of -Windlestraws) and passing the winter there alone till he was taken off -early in the following summer. He, too, must have subsisted on whelks -and what he could get along the shore. He was going home from Tiree. - -Anxious to be at home at the New-year O.S., he, with a companion, -left Tiree, and before going far a snowstorm came on, and the wind -increased in violence till they were driven they did not know where. -The companion got benumbed and died in the boat. It could only be said -by the survivor that they passed very high rocks on some island. - -The boat was cast ashore on Heisker, and the poor man left in it had to -pass the winter as best he could, without food or shelter. - -The islet is too distant from Canna for him to have been observed by -any signal he could make. - - - NOTES: - -[6] The islet near North Uist, on which the Mona Light house is built, -is called the High Rock of the Monks, _Heisgeir nam Manach_. - - - - -STEEPING THE WITHIES. - - -There is an expression in Gaelic “It is time to steep the withies” -(“_Tha ’n t-àm bhi bogadh nan gad_”), meaning, it is time for one to -leave or make his escape from the company he is in. This expression -is said to have arisen in this way. A little undersized man and good -archer was sitting on a stool by his own fireside, when enemies intent -on securing his person came in to the house. He sat quietly, but -his wife going backwards and forwards through the house, and being -ready-witted, when she understood the character of the intruders, -gave a slap on the ear to her husband saying, as if he were merely -the herd boy, “It is time to steep the withies” (“_Tha ’n t-àm bhi -bogadh nan gad_”). He immediately left the house, and she managed to -put his bow and arrows out at the window. He having stationed himself -in a favourable locality did not allow a single one of his enemies to -leave the house without killing them with his arrows, one by one as -they came out at the door. Regarding the truth of this story it is -noticeable, that uniformly throughout the Highlands the expression, “It -is time to steep the withies” (“_Tha ’n t-àm bhi bogadh nan gad_”), -means, not that it is time to prepare for action, but that it is time -for one to make himself scarce. A story of the same kind is told of -King Alfred the Great, that he escaped from his enemies in somewhat -the same way. In olden times the harnessing of animals for carrying -burdens, ploughing, etc., was done by means of withies made of willow, -sea-bent,[7] or other accessible material, iron being scarce and -difficult to procure, and these withies had to be steeped before work -with them was commenced. It required a good deal of acquaintance with -the work before the horse was fully equipped with pack-saddle, creels, -and other equipments for which withies were necessary, and the only -means available. The names of some of these withies still survive _e. -g._ the _Gad-tarraich_ is the Gaelic name still in use, although the -material is leather, and not withies, to denote a belly-band. - - - NOTES: - -[7] Tough Grass growing by the shore. - - - - -LITTLE JOHN OF THE WHITE BAG. - -(_IAIN BEAG A’ BHUILG BHAIN_). - - -This doughty little archer was attached to the family of the -MacLachlans of _Coruanain_, or little Lamb-dell, near Fort-William, on -the borders of Inverness-shire and Argyleshire. He derived his name -from his carrying a white bag of arrows, which he was very skilful in -the use of. In far off and unsettled times, when a foray or _creach_ -was being taken from _Coruanain_, one of the raiders, having met -little John, said, “Little John of the White Bag, I will mount the -hill side quicker than you” (_Iain bhig a’ Bhuilg Bhàin, bheir mise am -fireach dhiot_). In a struggle it is always an advantage, even when -other things are even, to have the higher position on a hill side. -Little John replied, “The hand of your father and grandfather be over -you, White Stirk, I will put the Brankes (or Iron Gag) on you (”_Làmh -d’ athair ’s do sheanair ort, a Ghamhain Bhàin cuiridh mise biorach -ort_“). The _biorach_, branker, was a spiked iron gag, or instrument -set with pointed iron pins, fixed round the head of calves to keep -them from sucking. The expression “The hand, &c., be over you” was a -common expression, meaning much the same as the English “Look out,” -or “Take care of yourself.” Saying this, Little John let fly an arrow -which struck the other in the forehead, toppled him over, and put an -end to the discussion. - - - - -THE KILLING OF BIG ANGUS OF ARDNAMURCHAN. - -(_AONGHAS MOR MAC’ILL’-EOIN_), BIG ANGUS, SON OF JOHN, AT COR-OSPUINN -IN MORVEN. - - -In Ardnamurchan, where the district of Kintra commences, there is a -streamlet that falls into Loch-Moidart, which lies along the north of -Ardnamurchan, called _Faoghail Dhòmhnuill Chonalaich_. This streamlet -derives its name from Donald MacDonald, or MacConnell, having been -slain there under the following circumstances. Tradition is uniform -as to the incident which gave its name to the place, and as to the -circumstances under which the murder was committed. Donald was the -heir to the chieftainship of Ardnamurchan, but his uncle, Big Angus, -wishing to secure the estate for himself, waylaid his nephew at the -ford mentioned, which is very difficult to jump across when the tide -is in, as he was on his way to be married to a daughter of the then -Chief of Lochiel. While Donald was jumping across the ford, one of -Big Angus’s men shot an arrow in his face, so that when he touched -the ground on the other side, he staggered and reeled. Before he fell -prostrate Big Angus said that he would wonder if his nephew would dance -as merrily at his marriage with the daughter of the One-eyed Chief of -meat-broth (_saoil an dannsadh tu co cridheil sin air banais nighean -Cham-na-eanraich_). The meaning of this nick-name given to the Chief of -Lochiel is a covert allusion to the cattle-lifting of Lochiel. Before -the introduction of tea, extract of meat was largely made use of, and -even meal was mixed with it for those in strong health, but weak, and -even chicken broth, was given to those who were in delicate health. -Some say that the Chief referred to was _Ailein nan Creach_ (Allan the -Cattle-lifter), who derived his name from the number of cattle-spoils -that he lifted. Lochaber being a wild and remote district was not -unnaturally a place to which cattle forays were taken when people -sought “the beeves that made the broth” in other localities. - -In Gregory’s History of the Western Islands _Dòmhnull Conalach_ is -called John, probably from the Chiefs of Ardnamurchan being known as -Mac-’ic-Iain, the son of the son of John, and mention is made of his -murder. Several families who have in recent times come to Coll from -Ardnamurchan call themselves Johnstones. - -Big Angus himself had a house near Strontian strongly fortified -according to the ideas of those days. It was surrounded by a deep ditch -(_Tigh daingean dige_) and what is now called a moated Grange. On -hearing that Lochiel with a strong band of followers was on his way to -avenge the death of the young Chief of Ardnamurchan, Big Angus fled, -but he was closely pursued by the avengers. Having come to Cor-ospuinn -in Morven he looked behind him, when the sun was rising, to see if his -pursuers were coming. Lifting his helmet and shading his eyes with his -hand when looking intently sunwards, one of the pursuers, a little -man, remarked, “Would not this be a good opportunity for killing -him?” Another answered, “It is not your trifling hand that would slay -the powerful man.” (_Cha ’n i do làmh leibideach a leagadh an duine -foghainteach_). The little man replied, “Would not an arrow do it” -(_Nach deanadh saighead e_), saying this, he launched an arrow which -struck Big Angus in the forehead and killed him. - - * * * * * - - NOTES: - -BIG ANGUS OF ARDNAMURCHAN. - -(_Aonghas mór Mac ’ic Eoin_) - - The incidents of this story occurred about 1596. The house of the - redoubtable Angus was at _Ath na h-éilde_ (Ford of the Hind (deer)), - opposite _Druim-nan-torran_ (The Ridge of Knolls), near _Sròn an - t-sìthean_, Strontian, the Promontory of the Fairy Dwelling. He had - a bad wife, who was continually urging him to make himself Chief of - the clan, and it was at her instigation that he waylaid his nephew at - Kintra. On hearing that the Chief was to be married to the daughter - of Lochiel, his wife warned big Angus that he would yet be reduced to - draw the peat creels (_tarruing nan cliabh mòine_) for his nephew. - Angus was the first to be at Kintra, at the river, and the first to - cross. The guests were assembled at Lochiel for the marriage of Donald - MacDonald, when word was brought of his having been slain. Immediately - the assembled guests with their followers set off to take vengeance, - and, finding Big Angus’s house deserted, they tied tinder (_spong_[8]) - to an arrow and set the moated house on fire. The place where Angus - was slain in Morven is still called _Leac na Saighead_ (The Ledge - of the Arrow), and the archer was _Iain Dubh Beag Innse-ruith_ - (Little Black John of Inch-rui). Big Dugald MacDonald (_Dughal mòr - MacRaonuil_), of Morar had his hand similarly fastened by an arrow to - his forehead. - -[8] Amadon--made from a fungus. A.C. - - - - -THE LAST CATTLE RAID IN TIREE. - - -It seems to have been a kind of raid or robbery to which the island of -Tiree was particularly liable. Plunderers and pirates, having chosen -a suitable day when the seas about the island were at rest, and the -cattle could be easily got on board the galley, or _birlinn_, carried -on depredations far and wide on the island. Once the cattle were got -by them on board the galley, they looked upon themselves as safe from -pursuit. - -There are two traditions in existence of the island having been so -visited, and their fate will illustrate the manner in which, in -unsettled times, such expeditions were conducted. The last foray of the -kind was not successful, but the cattle and sheep were collected for -taking away. The people got warning in time, and the cattle-lifters had -to make their escape, leaving their booty behind them. - -The last successful foray was in the days of the Tanister of Torloisk, -and seems to have been only sometime previous to or about the ’45. -The account which tradition gives of it is that the Tanister, or -second heir (_proximus haeres_), of Torloisk in Mull was called Malise -MacLean. His first name is somewhat peculiar, and not common among -the MacLeans or any other West Highland clan, and was given to him in -this manner. The heir of Torloisk was a promising healthy boy, but the -succeeding children of the then chief were dying young. The Chief was -then advised by the sages of his race to give to his child the name of -the first person whom he met on the way to have the child baptized. -The first person encountered was a poor beggar man who had the name -of Malise. A name given in this way was known as _ainm rathaid_, or -road name, and was deemed as proof against evil. The father gave this -name to the child who survived and became Tanister. Being without the -prospect of an estate the Tanister thought he would come to Tiree, and -piece by piece get an estate for himself. He came to have the half, -third, or other share of the town-ship of _Baile-meadhonach_, now -called Middleton, in Tiree, and married, and his descendants are still -known. - -One day, a galley, with sixteen men on board (_Bìrlinn ’s sea fir -dheug_), came to Soraba beach. The men landed and collected every live -animal that was about the place. At the time, the Tanister happened -to be fishing at the rocks in Kenavara Hill, and on coming home soon -after and hearing what had been done, he called to his neighbours -asking them what they meant to do, were they going with him to turn -the raid (_creach_). They all refused for fear of being killed, as the -freebooters were a strong party. He said, “I will not do that; I prefer -to fall in the attempt (_tuiteam ’s an oidhirp_), rather than let my -cattle be taken.” He took with him his sword and followed the spoilers. -When he came to the end of the pathway and within sight of the galley, -he stood before the creach. The freebooters told him to leave the road -or he would feel the consequences (_Gu ’m biodh a’ bhuil dha_). He -answered, “I will not leave, and the consequences will be to you, until -I get my own.” He got this as he seemed determined, and when he had -got it, he asked also the cow of a poor woman from the same township -as himself, and having got this also, he said they might do with the -rest what they liked. The plan of the robbers was to drive the cattle -to the beach, where the galley was, and throwing them down and tying -their forelegs together (_ceangal nan ceithir chaoil_), place them on -bearers, or planks, and put them in the boat. When they had done so, -they made off, and no one knew whence they had come or whither they -went. This was the last successful raid of the kind raised in Tiree. - -Subsequent to this creach, and in the time of Mr. Charles Campbell -being Minister of Tiree, several galleys, or _bìrlinnean_, each with -its complement of men, and in addition each with a pretending minister -and his man, made their appearance on the coast of Tiree. In those -days every minister took his man along with him, and in this case -each minister but one took his man from the boat. Wandering open-air -preachers were in those times called hillock ministers (_ministearan -nan cnoc_), and the one to whom the story refers was to officiate at -_Ceathramh Mhurdat_, or Fourth Part, called Murdat, now embraced in the -farm of Hough,[9] and which was then thickly populated. Having sent due -intimation round of his service, most of the people were drawn to hear -him. His man was left behind to give him warning of any disturbance of -the expedition which might occur. After he had been speaking for some -time his man came in. The islanders had become aware of the nature of -the invasion. The sheep and the horses were gathered at the back of the -hill of Hough, and a band of the cattle-lifters had surrounded them for -to drive them to the shore. A number who had not got to the preaching -had observed this, and following them, took the sheep and horses from -them. Immediately, the minister’s man ran with all possible speed to -warn the preacher at Murdat. When he came to where the sermon was, -the preacher concluded, and handing the book to his man, venturing to -think that the people would not understand him, said, as if reading -a line, “MacLellan, beloved friend, where did you leave the _Shockum -sho?_”--_i.e._, the booty. (_Mhac-’ill-fhaolain, a dhuine ghaolaich, -c’ àite an d’ fhàg thu an ’seogam seoth’?_). The incomer taking the -book, and as if intoning the psalm, said, “Matters are worse than we -thought; they have taken from us the plaintive bleaters” (_’s miosa tha -na mar a shaoil: thug iad uainn an ’cirri-mèh’_): _cirri-mèh_ is but -an imitation of the bleating of sheep, and is found used in different -localities as a pet or ludicrous name for sheep. - -The people sang along with the precentor. They did not know but that -the words may have been part of the psalm, when one who was smarter and -more ready-witted than the rest got up and said, “We have been long -enough here, these men are robbers, and not ministers.” The service -was concluded, the people going to look after their cattle, and the -minister and his man making their way with all speed to where the -galleys lay. Before the people could overtake them, they got on board -and made off, leaving their booty behind, and glad to escape with their -lives. - - - NOTES: - -[9] Pronounced Hoch. - - - - -LOCHBUIE’S TWO HERDSMEN. - - -This tale was written down as it was told by Donald Cameron, Rùdhaig, -Tiree, more than twenty-five years ago, and to whose happy and -retentive gift of memory it is a pleasure to recur. He had a most -extensive stock of old lore, and along with it much readiness and -willingness to communicate what he knew. In this the ludicrous element -is natural, and the events seem to follow each other as a matter of -course, so that the tale, so far as probability is concerned, may be -true enough. It is one of the few tales to which a date is attached, -and so far as history can be consulted the state of the country at -that time makes it probable enough. Loch Buie is a district lying to -the South of the Island of Mull, pleasantly situated. The tale runs as -follows:-- - -In 1602 Lochbuie had two herdsmen, and the wife of one herdsman went -to the house of the other herdsman. The housewife was in before her, -and had a pot on the fire. “What have you in the pot?” said the one who -came in. “Well there it is,” she said, “a drop of _brochan_ which the -goodman will have with his dinner.” - -“What kind of _brochan_ is it?” said the one who came in. - -“It is _dubh-bhrochan_,” (see note 1) said the one who was in. - -“Isn’t he,” said she, “a poor man! Are you not giving him anything but -that? I have been for so long a time under the Laird of Loch Buie, and -I have not drank _brochan_ without a grain of beef or something in it. -Don’t you think it is but a small thing for the Laird of Loch Buie -though we should get an ox every year. Little he would miss it. I will -send over my husband to-night, and you will bring home one of the oxen.” - -When night came she sent him over. The wife then sent the other away. -The one said, “you will steal the ox from the fold, and you will bring -it to me, and we will be free; I will swear that I did not take it from -the fold, and you will swear that you did not take it home.” - -The two herdsmen went away. In those days they hanged a man, when -he did harm, without waiting for law or sentence, and at this time -Lochbuie had hanged a man in the wood. The herdsmen went and kindled a -fire near a tree in the wood as a signal to the one who went to steal. -One sat at the fire, and the other went to steal the ox. - -The same night a number of gentlemen were in the mansion (2) at Loch -Buie. They began laying wagers with Lochbuie that there was not one in -the house who would take the shoe off the man who had been hanged that -day. Lochbuie laid a wager that there was. He called up his big lad -MacFadyen (see note 3), and said to him was he going to let the wager -go against him. The big lad asked what the wager was about. He said to -him that they were maintaining that there was no one in his court who -could take the shoe off the one who had been hanged that day. MacFadyen -said he would take off him the shoe and bring it to them where they -were. - -MacFadyen went on his way. When he reached, he looked and saw the man -who had been hanged warming himself at a fire. He did not go farther -on, but returned in haste. When he came they asked him if he had the -shoe. He told them he had not, for that yon one was with a withy basket -of peats before him, warming himself. “We knew ourselves,” said the -gentlemen, “that you had only cowards.” - -The lameter, who was over, said, “It is a wrong thing you are doing in -allowing him to lose the wager. If I had the use of my feet, I would go -and take his leg off as well as his shoe before I would let Lochbuie -lose the wager.” - -“Come you here,” said the big lad, “and I will put a pair of feet that -you never had the like of under you.” He put the lameter round his -neck (lit. the bone of his neck), and off he went. When they came in -sight of the man who was warming himself the lameter sought to return. -MacFadyen said they would not return. They went nearer to the man who -was warming himself. The one that was at the fire lifted his head and -observed them coming. He thought it was his own companion, the one who -had gone to steal the ox, who was come. He spoke and said, “Have you -come?” “I have,” said MacFadyen. “And have you got it?” “Yes,” said -MacFadyen. “And is it fat?” - -“Whether he is fat or lean, there he is to you,” and he threw the -lameter on to the fire. - -MacFadyen took to his heels (lit. put on soles) and fled as fast as -ever he did. Off went the lameter after him. He put the four oars on -for making his escape. The one at the fire rose, thinking there were -some who had come to pry upon himself, and that he was now caught. He -went after the lameter to make his excuses to the Laird of Loch Buie. -The lameter was observing him coming after him, feeling quite sure -that it was the one who had been hanged. - -MacFadyen reached, and they asked him if he had taken the shoe off -the man. He said they did not; that he asked him if the lameter was -fat, and that he was sure he had him eaten up before now. The lameter -came, and that cry in his head for to let him in, for that yon one was -coming. He was let in. The moment this was done, the one who had been -on the gallows knocked at the door, to let him in. Lochbuie said he -would not. - - Editor’s Note: - - The translation of lines 6 and 7 renders the Gaelic idiom exactly. - Translated more freely into English it would run, “and the lameter - came, and with yon terrified cry demanded admittance, saying that the - hanged man was coming after him.” - -“I am your own herdsman.” They now let him in. He then began to tell -how he and the other herdsman went to steal the ox, and that he thought -it was the other herdsman who had returned, and it was that made him -ask if he was fat. Lochbuie and his guests had much sport and merriment -over this all night. They kept the herdsman till it was late on in the -night telling them how it happened to him. - -The one who went to steal the ox now came back and reached the tree -where he left the other herdsman, but found no one. He began to search -up and down, and became aware of the one dangling from the tree. - -“Oh,” said he, “you have been hanged since I went away, and I will be -to-morrow in the same plight that you are in. It has been an ill-guided -object, and the tempting of women that sent us on the journey.” - -He then went over and took the man off the tree to take him home. He -went away with him and never got the like, going through hill, and -through mud and dirt, till he came to the house of the other woman. He -knocked at the door. The wife rose and let him in. - -“How have things happened with you?” “Never you mind, whatever; but, -alas! he has been hanged since we went away.” - -The wife took to roaring and crying. - -“Do not say a word,” he said, “or else you and I will be hanged -to-morrow. We will bury him in the garden, and no one will ever know -about it. And now,” he said, “I will be returning to my own house.” - -The one that was in Loch Buie thought it was time for him now to go -home. He knocked at his own door. His wife did not say a word. He then -called out to be let in. - -“I will not,” said the wife, “for you have been hanged, and you will -never get in here.” - -“I have not yet been hanged,” he said. - -“Be that as it may to you,” she said, “you will never come here.” - -The advice he gave himself was to go to the house of the other -herdsman. He called out at that one’s door to let him in. - -“You will not come in here. I got enough carrying you home on my back, -and you after being hanged.” - -There was a large window at the end of the house. He went in at the -window. “Get up,” he said, “and get a light, and you will see that I -have not been hanged any more than yourself.” When he saw who he had, -he kept him till morning, till day came. They then talked together, -telling each other what had happened to them on both sides, and thought -they would go to Lochbuie, and tell him all that occurred to them. When -Lochbuie heard their story, there was not a year after that but he gave -each of them an ox and a boll of meal. - - - - -LOCHABUIDHE ’S A DHA BHUACHAILLE. - - -Ann an 1602 bha dà bhuachaille aig Lochabuidhe, ’s thàinig bean an -darna buachaille gu tigh a’ bhuachaille eile; agus bean-an-tighe -stigh roimpe ’s poit aice air teine; “Dé th’ agaibh anns a’ phòit?” -ars’ an té a thàinig a stigh. “Ma ta,” ars’ ise, “deur de bhrochan -a bhios aig an duine le ’dhìnneir,” “’Dé,” ars’ an té a thàinig a -stigh, “an seòrsa brochain a th’ ann?” “Tha,” ars’ an té a bha stigh, -“dubh-bhrochan.”[10] “Nach esan,” ars’ ise, “an duine truagh? Nach -’eil thu ’toirt da dad ach sin? Tha mise an uiread so de ùine fuidh -thighearna Lochabuidhe, ’s cha d’ òl mi brochan gun fhionnan-feòla -no rud-eiginn ann. Saoil nach beag do thighearna Lochabuidhe, ged a -gheibheamaide damh ’s a’ bhliadhna; nach beag a dh’ ionndrainneadh -e e? Cuiridh mise an duine agam fhéin a nall an nochd ’s bheir sibh -dhachaigh fear de na daimh.” - -’N uair thàinig an oidhche chuir i nall e. Chuir a’ bhean an so air -falbh an duin’ eile. Thuirt an darna fear, “Goididh tusa an damh -thar na buaile, ’s bheir thu thugamsa e, agus bithidh sinn saor; -mionnaichidh mise nach d’ thug mi thar na buaile e, ’s mionnaichidh -tusa nach d’ thug thu dhachaigh e.” - -Dh’ fhalbh an dà bhuachaille. ’S an àm sin chrochadh iad duine tra -’dheanadh e cron, gun fheitheamh ri lagh no binn; ach anns na lathan -bha tighearna Lochabuidhe an déigh duine ’chrochadh stigh ’s a’ -choille. Dh’ fhalbh iadsan ’s dh’ fhadaidh iad teine aig craoibh ’s a’ -choille, mar chomharradh do ’n fhear a chaidh a ghoid. Shuidh fear aig -an teine ’s chaidh am fear eile a ghoid an daimh. Air an oidhche fhéin -bha mòran de dhaoin’-uaisle ’s a’ Mheigh[11] aig tighearna Lochabuidhe. -Bhuail iad air cur gheall ri tighearna Lochabuidhe nach robh duine ’s -an tigh aige a bheireadh a’ bhròg thar an fhir a chaidh chrochadh an -diugh. Chuir tighearna Lochabuidhe geall riù-san gu ’n robh. Ghlaodh e -nuas air a ghille mhòr Mac Phaidean.[12] Thuirt e ris an robh e brath -an geall a leigeadh air. Dh’ fharraid an gille mòr c’ ar son a bha ’n -geall. Thuirt e ris, gu ’n robh iad ag ràdh nach robh duine ’n a chùirt -a bheireadh a’ bhròg thar an fhir a chaidh chrochadh an diugh. Thuirt -Mac Phaidean gu ’n tugadh esan dheth a’ bhròg ’s gu ’n tugadh e thuga -ann an sud i. - -Dh’ fhalbh Mac Phaidean air a thurus. ’Nuair a ràinig e sheall e ’s -chunnaic e ’m fear a chaidh chrochadh ’deanamh a gharaidh. Cha deach -e na b’ fhaid’ air aghaidh, ’s thill e le cabhaig. ’Nuair a ràinig e -thuirt iad ris, an robh a’ bhròg aige. Thuirt e riu nach robh, gur -h-ann a bha ’m fear ud ’s làn cléibh de mhòine air a bhialthaobh ’s e -’deanamh a gharaidh. “Dh’ aithnich sinn-fhéin,” ars’ na daoin’-uaisle, -“nach robh agad ach an gealtair.” Thuirt an clàraineach[13] a bha -thall, “Is ceàrr an rud a tha thu ’deanamh, an geall a leigeadh air; -na ’m biodh comas nan cas agam-fhéin dh’ fhalbhainn ’s bheirinn a’ -chas dheth co math ris a’ bhròig mu ’n leiginn an geall air tighearna -Lochabuidhe!” - -“Thig thusa so,” ars’ an gille mòr, “’s cuiridh mise dà chois nach -deachaidh riamh ’n leithid ortsa fothad.” Chuir e ’n clàraineach mu -chnàimh ’amhaich, ’s dh’ fhalbh e leis. ’Nuair thainig iad ’an sealladh -an duine a bha ’deanamh a gharaidh, dh’ iarr an clàraineach tilleadh. -Thuirt Mac Phaidean nach tilleadh. Dhlùthaich iad ris an fhear a bha -’deanamh a gharaidh. Thog am fear a bha aig an teine a cheann, ’s -mhothaich e dhoibh-san a’ tighinn. Shaoil leis gur h-e a chompanach -fhéin, am fear a chaidh a ghoid an daimh, a bha air tighinn. Labhair -e ’s thuirt e, “An d’ thàinig tu?” “Thàinig,” ars’ Mac Phaidean. “’S -am bheil e agad?” “Tha,” ars’ Mac Phaidean. “’S am bheil e reamhar?” -“Biodh e reamhar no caol agad, sin agad e!” ’s e a’ tilgeadh a’ -chlàraineich mu ’n teine. - -Chuir Mac Phaidean na buinn air, ’s theich e co làidir ’s a rinn e -riamh. Leum an clàraineach air falbh as a dhéighinn, chuir e na ceithir -raimh[14] orra gu teicheadh. Dh’ éirich am fear a bh’ aig an teine, -agus dùil aige gur h-e feadhainn a thainig a dh’ fharcluais air fhéin -a bh’ ann, ’s gu ’n robh e nis a sàs. Dh’ fhalbh e as déighinn a’ -chlàraineach, dhol a ghabhail a leithsgeul do thighearna Lochabuidhe. -Bha an clàraineach ’g a fhaicinn a’ tighinn as a dhéighinn, ’s e -làn-chinnteach gur h-e ’m fear a chaidh chrochadh a bh’ ann. - -Ràinig Mac Phaidean. Dh’ fharraid iad dheth an d’ thug iad bròg bharr -an duine. Thuirt e nach d’ thug, gu ’n dubhairt e ris-san an robh -an clàraineach reamhar, ’s gu ’n robh e cinnteach gu ’n robh e air -’itheadh aca roimhe so. - -Ràinig an clàraineach ’s an glaodh ud ’n a cheann, esan a leigeadh -a stigh, gu ’n robh am fear ud a’ tighinn. Leigeadh a stigh e. Am -buileach a bha e stigh, bhuail am fear a bh’ air a’ chroich ’s an -dorus, esan a leigeadh a stigh. Thuirt fear Lochabuidhe nach leigeadh. -“Is ann a th’ annam,” ars’ esan, “am buachaille agaibh fhéin.” Leig iad -’an so a stigh e. Bhuail e so air innseadh dhoibh mar chaidh e-fhéin -’s am buachaille eile a ghoid an daimh; gu ’n do shaoil esan gur h-e -’m buachaille eile a bha air tilleadh leis an damh, gur h-e ’thug air -a dh’ fheòraich an robh e reamhar. Bha spòrs is fearas-chuideachd -anabarrach aig tighearna Lochabuidhe ’s aig ’uaislean air a so fad -na h-oidhche. Chum iad aca am buachaille gus an robh e ro-fhada dh’ -oidhche ’g innseadh naigheachd mar a dh’ éirich dha. - -Thàinig so am fear a chaidh a ghoid an daimh. Ràinig e ’chraobh aig an -d’ fhàg e ’m buachaille eile ’s cha d’ fhuair e duine. Bhuail e air -siubhal sìos ’s suas; mhothaich e ’n slaod ud nuas ris a’ chraoibh. -“O,” ars’ esan, “tha thusa air do chrochadh bho ’n a dh’ fhalbh mise, -’s bithidh mise am maireach air an ruith air am bheil thu fhéin. ’S -e an turus mi-shealbhach, ’s buaireadh nam ban, a chuir sinne air an -turus.” - -Ghabh e null ’s thug e’ n duine bhàrr na croiche g’ a thoirt dachaigh. -Dh’ fhalbh e ’s cha d’ fhuair e leithid dol roimh mhonadh ’s roimh -pholl ’s roimh eabar riamh; mu dheireadh ràinig e tigh na mnatha bha ’n -duine air a chrochadh aice. Bhuail e ’s an dorus; dh’ éirich a’ bhean -’s leig i stigh e. “Ciamar a dh’ éirich dhuibh?” ars’ a’ bhean. “Is -coma leatsa co-dhiù, mo thruaighe! tha e air a chrochadh o ’n a dh’ -fhalbh sinn.” - -Chaidh a’ bhean gu glaodhaich agus gu caoineadh. “Na abair guth,” ars’ -esan, “air neo bithidh tu fhéin ’s mise air ar crochadh am màireach. -Tiodhlaicidh sinn anns a’ ghàradh e, ’s cha bhi fios aig duine am feasd -air. Nis (ars’ esan), bithidh mise falbh dhachaigh thun mo thighe féin.” - -Ach smaointich am fear a bha ’n Lochbuidhe gu ’n robh an t-àm aige -tighinn dachaigh nis. Bhuail e ’s an dorus aige fhéin. Cha dubhairt a -bhean guth. Ghlaodh e so a leigeadh a stigh. “Cha leig,” ars’ a bhean, -“’s ann a tha thu air do chrochadh; cha tig thu so am feasd!” - -“Cha ’n ’eil mi air mo chrochadh fhathast,” thuirt esan. - -“Biodh sin mar a dh’ fheudas e dhuit,” ars’ ise, “cha ’n fhaigh thu -stigh so am feasd.” - -Is e ’chomhairle a smaointich e air, dol gu tigh a’ bhuachaille eile. -Ghlaodh e ’s an dorus aig an fhear ud, a leigeil a stigh. Thuirt am -fear ud, “Cha tig thu stigh an so; fhuair mise gu leòir ’g ad thoirt -dachaigh air mo mhuin ’s tu air do chrochadh.” Bha uinneag mhòr air -ceann an tighe ’s ghabh e dh’ ionnsuidh na h-uinneig. Thàinig e stigh -air an uinneig. “Eirich,” ars’ esan, “’s las solus ’s gu ’m faic thu -nach do chrochadh mise na ’s mò na ’chrochadh tu-fhéin.” - -’Nuair chunnaic e gur e a bh’ aige, chum e aige e gu maduinn, gus an -d’ thàinig an latha. Chuir iad an so an guth ri chéile a dh’ innseadh -dhaibh mar a dh’ éirich dhaibh thall ’s a bhos; gu ’n rachadh iad gu -tighearna Lochabuidhe ’s gu ’n innseadh iad dha na h-uile dad mar a dh’ -éirich dhaibh. ’Nuair chuala tighearna Lochabuidhe mar a dh’ éirich -doibh, cha robh bliadhna tuilleadh nach tugadh e damh do na h-uile fear -dhiubh, ’s bolla mine. - - - NOTES: - -[10] _Dubh-bhrochan_ is a thin mixture of oatmeal and water, without -meat or vegetables. This seems to have been a popular drink in olden -times. When the Lord of the Isles kept state at Duntulm Castle in Skye, -no one was admitted into the potentate’s body-guard unless he could -take the vessel (diorcal), containing the liquid, with one hand from -his companion, take his own mouthful, and pass it on to the next. In -the Island of Mull, adjoining the Sound, and opposite Ardtornish, once -the seat of the Lords of the Isles, there is a place, probably deriving -its name from some fancied resemblance to this dish, called Loch -Diorcal. - -[11] Moy Castle is situated near the modern mansion-house of Lochbuie, -and the reference appears to be to it in the Gaelic text. (Ed.) - -[12] MacFadyens were said by one of the clan, of whose judgment and -intelligence the writer has cause to think very highly, to have been -the first possessors of Lochbuie, and when expelled, that they became -a race of wandering artificers, (_Sliochd nan òr-cheard_--the race of -goldsmiths), in _Beinn-an-aoinidh_ and other suitable localities in -Mull. The race is a very ancient one, but it has often been noticed -that they are without a chief. - -[13] _Clàraineach_ means one on boards. A person losing the use of -his limbs, and going on all fours, with boards or pieces of wood -below his hands and knees, and with which he could more easily drag -himself over the ground. When placed sitting, he could not move. In -olden times the defects of humanity, which are now relieved by many -means, were left entirely to chance or very simple aids, and were the -objects of malevolent persecution, rather than of charitable or kindly -consideration. - -[14] _Na ceithir ràimh_ (the four oars)--fled upon all fours. (Ed.) - - - - -MAC NEIL OF BARRA, AND THE LOCHLINNERS. - - -The Lochlinners came to Barra at one time and they put Mac Neil to -flight. He escaped to Ireland, where he remained. When his sons -grew up, they heard themselves continually twitted as strangers, -and called “Barraich.” They resolved to find out the reason of this -treatment, and one day, while at dinner, they demanded from their -father an explanation of their being called by such an uncommon name -as “Barraich” (Barraidhich); but he replied that the mention of that -name caused him the deepest sorrow, and forbade them ever to mention -it in his hearing again. “We will never eat a bite nor drink a drink -again,” they said, “till we know what the word means.” He then -explained the name and told them all that happened to him and how he -had to suffer indignity and scorn as long as his powerful enemies -the Norsemen held his lands. His sons on hearing the cause of their -father’s banishment resolved to try every means in their power to -recover their inheritance. They began to fit out a galley (_bìrlinn_), -and when it was completed with masts, sails, oars, crew and compass, -and in readiness to go away, their father gave them the point to Barra -Head, and said, that if the man he left at Barra was still there, and -whose name was Macillcary (Mac’ille-charaich), he would direct them -straight to the place where they were to go to in search of their -enemies. Thus it happened (_’s ann mar sin a bhà_). They found the man -and told him who they were and the purpose for which they came. He bade -them steer for Castle Bay (_Bàigh-a’-chaisteil_) and a light on the -right-hand-side as they entered. They reached the house where the light -was, but could get no entrance. They climbed to the roof, and looking -through an opening saw a poor old man who was weeping bitterly. They -called to him that they were friends, and on admitting them he told -them how that day he had been paying his rent to the Lochlinners and -wanted a few marks of it, for this they threatened him that if he did -not return with the balance of the rent, he would receive next day at -noon a certain number of lashes. The Mac Neils then told their errand, -and the old man joyfully showed them the most direct and secret way to -the Castle, in which was a well of pure water whose source was unknown. -They took the castle, and went on to Kinloch (Ceannloch), and cleared -Vaslam as well. They then sent word to their father, who came with a -band of followers to their help, and others, native born, whom he had -formerly known, and on whose friendship he could rely, as soon as the -tidings of his return reached them, joined his band. An unacknowledged -son whom he had left, came among the rest to his assistance. This son, -from the circumstance, was known as Mac-an-amharuis (the son of doubt). -When he put forward his claim, Mac Neil replied, “If you are a son -of mine, prove it by clearing Eilean Fiaradh, before morning, of my -enemies.” “Give me the means then,” Mac-an-amharuis answered, “and I -will not leave the blood of one of the race in any part or place (_’s -cha’n fhàg mi fuil fìneig dhiubh ’an àite na’n ionad_).” Mac Neil gave -him his own sword, and that night while the Lochlinners, who had been -carousing heavily, slept soundly, he made his way and got secretly in -to the castle which stands on an inlet before Eoligarry castle, eight -miles from Castle Bay, and killed the inmates where they lay. It is -said that their bodies are still to be seen when a violent storm drifts -the sand hither and thither over the fort (_tigh-dìon_) where they were -slain. From that day Mac Neil had his own rights. - - - - -FINLAY GUIVNAC. - - -At the time MacLean of Dowart was proprietor of Tiree, this man, -_Fionnladh Guibhneach_, was living near a small bay, _Port-nan-long_, -in Balemartin, on the south side of the island (_air an leige deas_). -There was no other joinersmith but himself, or rather, there was none -to equal him in skill in the five islands (_anns na còig eileanan_). -Balemartin and Mannal were in those days one farm-holding, and there -were few people in the township. The change-house (_tigh-òsd_) was at -the streamlet Gedans (_amhuinn Ghoidean_), between Island House, the -proprietor’s residence, and the shore. At this time, also, there was -fosterhood (_comhaltas_) between MacLeod of Dunvegan and MacLean of -Tiree, by which they were bound to give proof of friendship for each -other at whatever cost or whenever there was occasion on either side, -and MacLeod, being in need of Finlay Guivnac’s service, came with his -boat (_bìrlinn_) to Tiree for him. He landed at _Port-nan-long_ (the -creek of sailing ships), and on reaching Island House was heartily -welcomed by MacLean. When he asked for Finlay, he was told that he had -not been at Island House for some days, “and it is not a good day when -I do not see him,” MacLean said. MacLeod said he came to take Finlay -with him for a year’s service; that all care would be taken of him, -and if no misfortune or mischance befell either of them, he himself -would bring him home at the end of the year. When MacLean heard this -he said they would go in search of Finlay. They went, and as they were -crossing the common (_an clar macharach_), between the house and the -streamlet, they met Finlay, who, having recovered from the attack of -ill-humour, was, as was usually his daily custom, on his way to Island -House. MacLeod asked after his health, and if he was yet able to do -as good work as ever. Finlay said that in place of getting weaker as -he got older, he was daily gaining in strength and vigour (_neart’s -tàbhachd_); he was more active in walking, and could see better than -he had ever done. MacLeod said he was surprised to hear that, as in -Skye people were failing in strength and activity as they became -older, “and it is curious that it is different with you.” Finlay said -he knew he was better now at walking and was gaining his eyesight, as -formerly he could jump over Sorabai stream, but now he walked to the -ford to get across; and when he was younger, if he saw a person, it -was as one, but now it was as two and three. They took Finlay with -them to the change-house. When pledging MacLean’s health, MacLeod, as -was customary, said, “Wishing to get my wish from you, MacLean” (_Mo -shainnseal ort, Mhic’illeathain_). - - -“You are welcome to have your wish freely gratified” (_’S e beatha le -sainnseal_),[15] MacLean replied. “My wish is that I may get Finlay -with me,” MacLeod said. In returning the compliment MacLean said, “My -wish is that I may keep Finlay to myself.” “But I do not ask to keep -him always,” MacLeod said. They then settled the wages, and agreed -between them that Finlay should go to Dunvegan, on the west coast -of Skye, for a year’s work, and lest he should be kept longer than -that time, MacLean was to go with him. When Finlay went home and told -his wife about the journey he was to take, she said to him, “You are -very foolish to go so far away, when MacLean is giving you a good -livelihood.” “I must go at any rate, and you must come with me,” he -said, and told her how he was not to remain in Skye, and that MacLean -himself was going with him to make sure he would not be kept there, -and that she was to go with them. “How can I do that,” she said, “when -MacLean will not allow a woman in the same boat with him?” “I will put -you in a hogshead,” he said, “and when we reach Dunvegan there will -be feasting and enjoyment, and when the nobility of MacLeod (_maithibh -Siol Leòid_) are gathered, you will come in among the company as a poor -woman, and I will manage the rest in such a way as that you may perhaps -earn more than myself.” She consented to this, and he put her at night -with sufficient provision in the boat. They reached Dunvegan safely -(_le deadh shoirbheachadh_). Finlay’s wife got away unnoticed from -the boat, and waited at a house near till the festivities began. When -the crew and those who came in the boat reached the castle, there was -much rejoicing; an abundant feast was provided, and company gathered, -and the usual customs when tables were spread and guests invited, were -observed. Among those who came to the gathering was a dependent of -good position, who, through some trifling cause, had lost the favour -of MacLeod. Finlay observed that he kept aloof from the company, and -having ascertained the cause, advised him to pledge MacLeod’s health, -and at the same time make his grievance known. He took the advice, and -said, - - “Esteemed was I in MacLeod’s house - When justice sat in his land, - And I am a forgotten son to-night - At the time of drawing in to wine (drinking), - But this to you, son of Dark John, - Who came in to-day or yesterday, - I am the son of a hero - Who was here in the past, - Though I cannot to-day - Get the hill for my cattle.” - - (“Bu mhùirneach mise ’an tigh Mhic Leòid - ’Nuair shuidh a’ chòir ’n a thìr, - ’S mac dì-chuimhnicht’ mi ’n nochd ’n a theach - ’An àm tarruing a steach gu fion, - Ach sud ortsa, mhic Iain Duibh, - A thàinig stigh an diugh no ’n dé, - Mise mac suinn a bh’ ann riamh - Ged nach fhaigh mi ’n diugh an sliabh g’ am spréidh.”) - -“Good youth,” MacLean said, “go you to Mull and I will give you land -(_fearann_) there.” He said, - - “I was a hero’s son last year, - But I am a son of sorrow this year; - If I am put under a third weight, - I will be a son of Mull next year.” - - (“Bu mhac suinn mi an uiridh, - Ach mac mulaid mi ’m bliadhna; - Ma chuireas iad orm tuille treise, - ’S mac Muileach mi air an ath-bhliadhna.”) - -“MacLeod’s own lands are not yet exhausted,” MacLeod said, and he -restored him to his former place and privileges, and he never had to go -to Mull or anywhere else for land. - -During this time Finlay kept looking for his wife’s appearance, and -whenever he saw her in the doorway he called out to her, “Poor woman! -what has brought you here? It must be some pressing need that made you -come among the nobles of the Clan Leod to-night. Tell your story, and -sure am I they will one and all be willing to give you help, and that -they will not let you away as empty-handed as you have come.” She said -she was a poor woman who was bringing herself through life honestly as -she best could, with help from those who took notice of her poverty and -gave her charity, and that she came to the nobles of the Clan Leod, -as they were gathered at this time, to try if they would help her. -“Let your countrymen do as they like,” Finlay said, “I will give you a -calving cow (_mart-laoigh_).” MacLean looked at him in astonishment, -and it was no wonder, when he heard him give away the only cow the -poor woman in Balemartin had to the northern wife (_do ’n chaillich -thuathaich_). Everyone of the nobles present gave her a similar gift, -till she had the nine cows. When the company left, and MacLean had an -opportunity of speaking to Finlay, he said to him, “What made you give -the only cow you had to the northern wife?” “Do you know who the wife -is?” Finlay said. “What do I care what wife she is or was,” MacLean -said. “It was just my own wife who was there and got all the cows, and -you need not give her yours till you return home,” Finlay said. “And -how did you bring her here?” MacLean asked. “Ods! MacLean,” he said, -“just in the big hogshead at your feet in the galley.” “No death will -ever happen to you but to be hanged for your quirks” (_cha tig bàs -ortsa ’m feasd ach do chrochadh le d’ raoitean_), MacLean said, and -he advised him to send the cattle to Mull, till they could be ferried -to Tiree. Finlay took the advice, and sent his wife and the cows to -MacLean’s place at Benmolach, on the north-west side of Mull, and she -got them to Balemartin, where MacLean on his return home sent her his -own gift. - -Finlay began his work and went on diligently with it that he might -be ready at the end of the year to return home, and MacLeod came -frequently where he was, more to hear what he had to say than to see -the progress he was making with his work. One day, happening to find -him at his breakfast, and observing that Finlay began at the back with -a shape of butter (_measgan-ìme_) that was set before him, MacLeod -asked him when he had finished, why he did not begin at the front of -it. “I took it just from back to front as was wont at MacLean’s table, -where the measures were round (_far nach biodh na measgain ’n am -bloidhean_)” On another occasion MacLeod found him paring a remnant of -cheese (_cùl càise_), and asked him when he had learned to pare cheese. -“Since I came to MacLeod’s Castle,” he said: “it was not the custom -to put a remnant on the inviting, merry, bountiful table in MacLean’s -house (_air bòrd fiughaireach, aighearach, fialaidh Mhic’illeathain_).” - -When the year had expired, MacLean, as had been agreed on, went to -bring Finlay home. He was cordially received by MacLeod and was -enjoying, after his journey, the usual hospitalities prepared for -guests of his rank, when he heard the sound of Finlay’s hammer: “My -loss! (_mo chreach!_),” he said, “I have too long delayed going -where Finlay is.” When he reached him, he said, “Excuse me, Finlay, I -have been rather a long time of coming where you are.” “I know that, -MacLean,” he said, - - “The object of my contempt is the small table - Where meanness would be (found): - The object of my praise was the well filled table - Where proud heroes sat. - You did not take in Finlay Guivnac - Nor remember him till the last.” - - (“B’e mo laochan am bòrd suaile - Air am bitheadh na laoich mheamnach: - Cha d’ thug thusa stigh do ghobhainn Guibhneach, - ’S cha do chuimhnich thu e gu anmoch.”) - -MacLean then asked after his welfare during the year, and said among -other things, he would like to hear what were his opinions of the women -of the MacLeod country since his coming among them. “Well, I will tell -you that,” Finlay said, - - “If all the women of the Clan MacLeod, - Small and great, old and young, - Were gathered in one body, - It would be one right one I would make out of them.” - - (“Ged bhiodh mnathan Sìol Leòid, - Beag is mòr, sean ’s crìon, - Air an càradh ’an aona bhodhaig - ’S e aona bhean chòir a dheanainn dhiubh.”) - -“They will not be well pleased with your words.” “They will be better -pleased with my words than I have been with their ways,” Finlay said; -“I see it is time to return to Tiree,” MacLean said. - -When Finlay went to get payment from MacLeod before leaving, and as -they were conversing together after settling between them, MacLeod -said he would lay a wager that the peats of Tiree would not burn so -well as the peats of Skye. “What is your opinion, Finlay?” MacLean -asked; “Shall I accept the wager?” “Well, as a matter of indifference -I will wager they will not burn as well as those of the White Moss -in Tiree (_Leòra! cuiridh mise geall uach gabh iad co maith ri mòine -Bhlàir-bhàin ’an Tireadh_),” Finlay said, and the wager was laid. “I -will try another wager,” MacLeod said, “that our dogs will thrash the -MacLean dogs.” This wager was also accepted, and MacLeod came to Tiree -with them, bringing peats and dogs with him in the galley. On putting -the wagers to the test, the Skye peat when kindled lighted brightly -with a great flare, but was soon burnt out. MacLean then asked if they -would try the Tiree kind now. As none had been brought by the servants, -and as it had previously been agreed on between them, MacLean asked -Finlay to go for them himself. Finlay said perhaps it would not be the -best that he would bring in. He went out, and gathering an armful of -peats took and steeped them one by one (_fòid an déigh fòid_) in a cask -of oil. When MacLeod saw them he said, “O man, how wet they are! (_O -dhuine, nach iad a tha fliuch_).” “The wetter they are, the livelier -they will burn (_mar a’ s fliuiche ’s ann a’ s braise iad_),” Finlay -replied, putting them on; and when they took fire they nearly burned -the house. “Did I not say they would burn better than those of Skye,” -Finlay said to MacLeod, “and you have lost the wager.” “Undoubtedly I -have,” the other replied. Next day the dog fight (_tabaid chon_) was to -be tried. Finlay rose early and gave his dogs the strongest “crowdie” -(_fuarag_, a mixture of milk and meal), and though they were smaller -when the fight began, MacLeod’s dogs could not hold one bout with them. -“It is surprising,” MacLeod said, “when one of my dogs is as big as two -of MacLean’s dogs.” “You need not be at all surprised,” Finlay said, -“those here are of the race of dogs that were in the land of the Fians -(_so sìolachadh nan con a bh’ aca ’s an Fhéinn_), and no other kind -need try their strength against them.” “If you were in the land of the -Fians, you came back, and no one need lay a wager with MacLean so long -as he has you with him.” MacLeod bade them farewell and returned home -(_Dh’ fhàg e beannachd aca ’s thill e dhachaidh_). - - - NOTES: - -[15] _Sainnseal_ means the giving of a free gift, or handsel. - - - - -BIG DEWAR OF BALEMARTIN, TIREE. - - -He was John MacLean, a native of Dowart in the island of Mull, who -fled to Jura.[16] He is said to have been the first man from that -island who settled in Tiree, and on that account was known as Dewar -(_Diùrach_).[17] He and his seven sons were alike powerful and strong -men. They held the township of Balemartin (on the south side of Tiree), -including Sorabi, where a burying ground is, and where there was at one -time a chapel to which was attached the land of Sorabi garden. At this -time the people in the island were paying rent or tax (_cìs_), but it -was found impossible to make big John Dewar submit to pay the tax. The -first time any attempt was made to compel him to pay it, he took with -him his seven sons to Island-House, the proprietor’s residence, and put -them on the sward in front of the house (_air dòirlinn an eilein_), -saying, “This is the payment I have brought you, and you may take it or -leave it.” Another attempt to enforce payment from him ended as told in -the following account:-- - -One day when he and his sons were ploughing, two of the sons being at -Sorabi, as there were few people in the neighbourhood, and his sons -were at some distance from him, he had to go himself to the smithy to -repair the ploughshare (_a ghlasadh an t-suic_). It was the beginning -of summer, and he left the horses in the plough, eating the wild -mustard (_sgeallan_) in the field where he was ploughing, grass and -other herbage being scant. While their father was away at the smithy, -the sons who were at Sorabi, on taking a look seawards, observed a boat -(_bìrlinn_) coming in towards the shore. It kept its course for the -small bay of boats (_port nan long_), in Balemartin, and had on board a -very strong man called “Dark John Campbell” (_Iain Dubh Caimbeul_), who -was sent to collect the tax from those in the island who were unwilling -to pay it. He had an able crew with him in the boat. They landed, -and when they reached the place where Dewar was ploughing, the first -thing they did was to seize the horses in the plough (_na h-eich a bha -’s an t-seisreach_), to take them away in the boat as payment of the -tax. When they were almost ready to be off, Dewar came in sight on his -return from the smithy. On seeing the unwelcome strangers he quickened -his steps to intercept them, and took hold of the horses to take them -back. Campbell drew his sword, bidding him be off as fast as he could -or he would put his head beside his feet. Dewar drew his own sword and -said, “Come on and do all you are able.” The fray began between them, -and Dewar was driving Campbell, Inveraray, backwards until he put him -in among the graves (_lic_) in the burying-ground, and it so happened -that Campbell stumbled on MacLean’s cross and fell backwards. Before -he could raise himself Dewar got the upper hand of him. On seeing him -fall, his men were certain that he must have been killed, and they -went away with the horses to the boat and put off to sea. “Let me -rise,” Campbell said, “and I will give you my word that I will never -come again on the same errand.” “I will,” Dewar said, “but give me -your oath on that, that it will be as that (_gu ’m bi sin mar sin_).” -Campbell gave his word, “and more than that,” he said, “I will send you -the value of the horses when I reach Inveraray.” “You will now come -with me to my house,” Dewar said, “and you need not have fear or dread; -your house-quarters and welcome will not be worse than my own, till you -can find a way of returning home.” In the course of some days Campbell -got away, and he never returned again to “bullyrag” or intimidate any -one. On reaching Inveraray he was as good as his word. He sold the -horses and sent the price to Dewar, who was never compelled to pay the -tax. - - - NOTES: - -[16] The cause of John Dewar’s flight to Jura is said to have been -occasioned by his having given information to MacLaine of Lochbuie -which was injurious to MacLean of Dowart, in a dispute that occurred -between them. - -[17] Several of John Dewar’s descendants are at the present day in -Tiree. They are known as _na Diùraich_, one family who are descended -from the elder of his sons being cottars in Balemartin. - - - - -THE BIG LAD OF DERVAIG. - - -Contemporary with John Dewar of Balemartin, Tiree, the Big Lad was -living at Dervaig, Mull, with his father, Charles, son of Fair Neil -of Dervaig. This lad, as he grew up to manhood, became noted for his -great strength and prowess, as well as for his handsome person. At -the same time he was reckless and foolish. Despising his father’s -reproofs and heedless of his counsel, advice or admonitions, he went -on in his mad career until at last he purloined money from him, with -which he bought a ship and went sailing away, none of his friends knew -whither. After some years he returned home, broken-down in appearance, -empty-handed, and a complete “tatterdemalion,” having wrecked his ship -on the coast of Ireland, and lost all the wealth he had accumulated to -repay his father, who was now dead. The grieve (_an t-aoirean_) had the -land, and he went where he was. The grieve told him about his father’s -death, and advised him to go to his father’s brother, Donald, son of -fair Neil, who had Hynish, Tiree, at that time, and whatever advice -he would get from him, to follow it, and he (the grieve) would give -him clothing and means to take him there, on condition of being repaid -when he returned. As there was no other way open to him of redeeming -his past errors, he agreed to the grieve’s conditions and went to -Tiree to his uncle, by whom he was coldly received. “What business has -brought you, and where are you going when you have come here?” “To ask -advice from yourself,” he said. “Good was the advice your father had -to give, and you did not take it; what I advise you to do is, to go -and enlist in the Black Watch, and that will keep you out of harm. You -will stay here to-night, and I will give you money to-morrow morning -to take you to the regiment,” his uncle said. His uncle was married -to a daughter of MacLean, Laird of Coll. Her husband did not tell her -of his nephew’s arrival, as he was displeased at his coming. When the -Big Lad was leaving the house next morning, she saw him passing the -window and asked who the handsome-looking stranger was. On being told, -she made him return to the house, gave him food, drink, and clothing, -and on parting, money to take him on his way. He returned to Dervaig, -paid the ploughman his due, and went off to the wars. At the first -place he landed, said to be Greenock, a pressgang was waiting to seize -whoever they could get to suit the king’s service, and on seeing this -likely man they instantly surrounded him, to carry him off by force. -He turned about and asked what they wanted with him. They said, “To -take you with us in spite of you.” When he understood their intentions -he opened his arms to their widest extent and drove all those before -him, eighteen men, backwards into the sea, and left them there floating -to get out the best way they could. He then made his way till he -enlisted in the Black Watch, then on the eve of leaving for America, -where it remained for seven years. During that time the Big Lad (_an -Gille mòr_) won the esteem and commendation of his superiors in rank, -by his exemplary conduct and good bearing, as well as the admiration -and affection of his equals, to whom he was courteous and forbearing. -When the regiment was returning to England, the officers frequently -spent their leisure time, on board of the man-of-war that brought it -home, playing dice. One day, when they were at their games, the Big Lad -was looking on, and he saw a young man, one of the English officers, -insolently, but more in jest than in earnest, striking on the ear the -colonel of the regiment, who, the Big Lad knew, was a Highlander. When -he saw the insult was not resented, he said in Gaelic to the Colonel, -“Why did you let him strike you?” (_C’ ar son a leig thu leis do -bhualadh?_). “You are, then, a Highlander,” the colonel said to him, -“and you have been with me for seven years without telling me that you -are.” “If you would do what I ask you, I will make you one that he will -not do the same thing to you again,” he said to the colonel. - -“What do you want me to do?” the colonel said. “That you will write out -my discharge when we reach London,” he said. “But a soldier cannot get -his discharge without an order (stamped) under the crown,” the colonel -said. “Write what you can for me and I will not plead for more,” he -said. “Anything I can write will not do you any good,” the colonel -said. “Write that itself,” he said; and he got it written. Next time -the play was going on, the Big Lad looked on, and when he saw the same -one striking the colonel again, he went to him and asked why he did -it. The reply he got was that soldiers were not allowed to question -their officers. “This is my way of excusing myself,” the Big Lad said, -giving him a blow he had cause to remember all his life, if he ever -recovered from it. The soldier was sentenced to be severely punished, -but on arriving in England, he deserted--though desertion of the army -is not a custom of Highland soldiers--and became a fugitive. The great -esteem in which he was held prevented any one from hindering his -flight. He got ashore at night among the baggage, and harbour lights -not being numerous in those days, he could not easily be seen making -his escape. Whenever he got his foot on land he set off, and during the -remainder of the night he ran on flying from pursuit. In the day-time -he hid himself under hedges and haystacks, and next night fled on. On -the following day he was becoming exhausted, and he ventured to ask -food at a wayside house. As his appearance was that of a poor soldier -he got scanty fare, but he asked with civility for better food, and -it was given to him. While he was taking it two strangers came in to -the same room with him, and seeing his table well supplied while their -own was poorly furnished, one of them said, “It is strange to see a -Highland soldier with good food, while we have next to nothing,” and -he went over and swept away all the meat from the soldier’s table to -his own. The soldier called the mistress of the house and asked her who -the men were. She said they were travellers, and she asked them why -they took the meat from the soldier’s table, and told them if they had -in a civil manner asked better food for themselves they would have got -it, instead of raising a quarrel. The soldier said he would settle the -quarrel; and finding a large iron hoop (_lùbach mhòr iaruinn_) at hand, -he straightened it (a fathom in length) and flung it round the head of -the one nearest to him, then twisted it in a noose and put the other -one’s head in the remainder. He then drew them both out after him, and -left them on the high road. “Now,” he said to them at parting, “you can -travel on, for you will not come out of that tie till you are put in -a smithy fire (_teallach gobhainn_).” He returned to pay the hostess, -who said to him, “You do not appear to have much money.” “I have seven -day’s pay of a soldier left, to pay my way,” he said. “Good youth,” she -said, “here is double the amount to you, to take you on your journey, -and I am sufficiently repaid by your ridding my house of disagreeable -guests.” He took the gift thankfully, and turned his face northwards, -to come to Scotland (_Albainn_). The next evening, he saw a fine house, -to which he went in the dusk, and asked permission to warm himself. He -was allowed to enter, and while standing with his back to the fire, -the daughter of the house saw the handsome stranger, and she told her -father. He desired food to be given to him, and that he was to be sent -where he was. When she went with this request, the soldier asked who -her father was. She said he was a nobleman (_àrd-dhuin’ uasal_). “A -soldier is a bad companion for a nobleman,” he said. He went with her -and saw her father, a grey-haired man in a chair, looking about him. -The soldier was asked to sit down. After conversing some time, the old -man said, “Young man, I have a daughter here who gives me much trouble -to keep her in company. If you can play cards (_iomairt chairtean_), -take my place at the table; there is a money reward (_duais airgid_) -for every game won.” “I have no money,” the soldier replied. “I will -lend you some,” she said. The play went on till he won six games, one -after another. He then wanted to stop playing, and offered her back -all the winnings, but she would only take the sum she lent him, saying -the rest was rightly his own. He was to remain there that night, and -was not to go away in the morning without telling them. Being afraid -of pursuit, he went away at daybreak. He had not gone far when he -knew that a horseman was coming after him. He waited to see if he was -sent to get back the money he had won at the card table; but it was -a messenger with a request to him from the nobleman to return to the -castle. When he appeared the nobleman chid him for leaving the castle -unknown to him, and told him how his daughter had fallen in love with -him, and had resolved never to marry any one else. The soldier said, -“A soldier is a poor husband for her.” The nobleman was convinced that -he was not a common soldier whatever circumstances had placed him in -that position, and said he preferred his daughter’s happiness to wealth -or rank. He remained with them and married the daughter; and when he -laid aside the soldier’s dress, there was not his equal to be seen -in the new dress provided for him. He was esteemed for the dignity -of his demeanour as much as he was admired for his fine appearance, -and he lived, without remembrance of his past misadventures, in the -enjoyment of happiness and prosperity. In those days news travelled -slowly, newspapers appearing only once or twice a year in populous -villages, and they did not reach remote places. In one which came to -the nobleman at this time, there was an account of two men tied in -an iron rod (_ann an slait iaruinn_) who were being exhibited at a -market town in England. He went with the nobleman and his friends to -see this wonder, the two who were in the union (_an dithis a bha ’s a’ -chaigionn_). Whenever the men saw the Highlander they said to him “If -you were dressed in the kilt, we would say you were the man who put us -in this noose.” “If you had been more civil,” he said to them, opening -the coil, “when you met me, you would not to-day be fools going through -England with an iron rod round your necks.” On this he was cheered -by the people, and if he was held in esteem before, he was much more -on his return home, where he remained and became a great man (_duine -mòr_), beloved and esteemed to the end of his life. - - - - -STORY OF DONALD GORM OF SLEAT. - - -Donald Gorm was at one time in the Island of Skye with his galley and -crew. When returning home to Uist, the day they set out happened to -become very stormy, and stress of weather obliged them to return and -make straight for Dunvegan, the nearest place of shelter they could -reach, where Donald Gorm was not very willing to go if he could in -any way avoid landing there, since he had killed MacLeod of Dunvegan -in a quarrel[18] which had arisen between them; but there was no -alternative. On observing the boat coming and in danger of being lost -MacLeod and the men of Dunvegan went to the shore to meet them, and -when they were safely landed gave them a kindly reception. MacLeod took -them with him to his castle and provided hospitably for them. Donald -Gorm was invited to MacLeod’s own table, but refused, saying, “When -I am away from home, like this, with my men, I do not separate from -them but sit with them.” MacLeod said, “Your men will get plenty of -meat and drink by themselves, and come you with me.” “I will not take -food but with my men,” he said. When MacLeod saw that Donald Gorm was -resolved not to be separated from his own men, and being unwilling to -let him sit with his, he asked in preference Donald Gorm’s men to his -own company. When dinner was over, drinking commenced, and MacLeod -becoming warm said to Donald Gorm by way of remembrance, “Was it not -you who killed my father?” “It has been laid to my charge that I killed -three contemptible Highland lairds (_trì sgrogainich de thighearnan -Gaidhealach_), and I do not care though I should put the allegation -on its fourth foot to-night;” Donald Gorm said, drawing his dirk: -“There is the dirk that killed your father; it has a point, a haft -(_faillein_), and is sharp edged, and is held in the second best hand -at thrusting it in the west.”[19] MacLeod thought he was the second -best hand himself, and he said, “Who is the other?” Donald Gorm shifted -the dagger to his left hand, raised it, and said, “There it is.” -MacLeod became afraid and did not revive any other remembrance. When -Donald Gorm was offered a separate room at night, he said, “Whenever -I am from home I never have a separate bed from my men but sleep in -their very midst until I return to my own house again.” They told him -that his men had a sleeping-place provided for them, and that he would -be much better accommodated by himself in the room prepared for him. -When they saw he could not be persuaded to alter his determination of -passing the night with his men, they made beds for himself and men in -the kiln (_àth_).[20] The men, being wearied, slept without care, but -Donald Gorm did not close an eye. He had a friend, somehow, in his -time of need (_caraid éiginn air chor-eiginn_), in the place, who came -secretly to the kiln where he and his men lay, and called to him, “Is -it a time to sleep, Donald?” (_An cadal dhuit, a Dhòmhnuill?_) “What -if it is?” (_’Dé na ’m b’ è?_), he answered from within the kiln. “If -it is, it will not be” (_na ’m b’ è cha bhì_), said the one outside. -“Waken men, and rise quickly,” he said to his company. They got up at -once and with all speed went out, shutting the door of the kiln behind -them when they were all through to the outside. They fled straight to -the shore and launched their boat; and fortunately for them the wind -had calmed and they were able to put out oars and row the galley some -distance from the shore before their flight was observed. They had not -gone far to sea before they saw the kiln on fire. “In place of your -father and grandfather you have left yourself without a house, and -Donald Gorm is where you cannot reach him,” Donald Gorm said, and he -got safely home to his own house without hurt or injury (_gun bheud gun -mhilleadh_). - - - NOTES: - -[18] The quarrel in which MacLeod was killed was caused, it is said, -by Donald Gorm’s having repudiated his wife, who was a daughter of -MacLeod, in order to marry MacKenzie of Kintail’s sister, and MacLeod -resenting the insult attacked Donald Gorm, who killed him and his two -sons by throwing them over precipices in the Coolin hills in Skye -where the skirmish took place. A different version of this incident is -given in an early account of the “Troubles in the isles betwixt the -Clan Donald and the Seil Tormot, the year 1601,” and is to the effect -that the feud was carried on by “Sir Rory MacLeod of the Herries,” -brother-in-law of Donald Gorm MacDonald of Sleat, the reprisals being -fierce and frequent until the MacLeods were beaten at “Binguillin,” -where a brother of Sir Rory and other chief men of his party were taken -prisoners by Donald Gorm, but on a reconciliation taking place they -were set at liberty. (See Gregory’s History of the Western Highlands -and Isles, p. 295). - -[19] In regard to the story and incident of the dagger, there was a -song made, of which the writer has only been able to get the following -verse:-- - - This is the dirk that killed your father, - And it has not refused you yet, - Farewell to you from the side of the channel. - - “Holoagaich h-ol-ò - Sud a’ bhiodag a mharbh d’ athair, - ’S cha do dhiùlt i ri thusa fhathast; - Soraidh leat o thaobh a’ chaoil.” - - -[20] Kiln (_àth_) here mentioned was in a thatched house about 17 feet -long and 10 wide, the breast being about 5 feet deep, one being built -in every township for preparing corn for grinding. Some peacefully -disposed, observant old men (_bodaichean sicire foirfe_) built kilns -in their own barns, to avoid being hindered or disturbed by their -neighbours at their work. - - - - -DONALD GORM IN MOIDART. - - -The wife of the laird of Moidart (_Bean Mhac ’ic Ailein Mhùideart_) -once took great umbrage at Donald Gorm. He came to Mac ’ic Ailein’s -house, dressed, as was his custom, in a suit of cloth of dun (natural) -coloured sheep’s wool, with a stout oaken cudgel in his hand. The -laird’s wife happened to be the first person he met, and without any -preliminary word he asked, “Is the lad Mac ’ic Ailein at home?” (_Bheil -am balach Mac ’ic Ailein a stigh?_) “No, he is not, at this time,” -she answered indignantly resenting his superciliousness. The next -question he asked was, “Will it be a long time before he comes home?” -“I don’t know,” she said. “You will tell him when he returns home, that -I was asking for him here, and that The Herd is the name I get (_gur -e am Buachaille a their iad rium_).” Mac ’ic Ailein came home soon -afterwards, and his wife told him about the bold man who was enquiring. -At her husband’s request she described the stranger’s appearance and -dress, and how “The Herd” was the name he got. “Did you ask him in?” -her husband asked. “No,” she said, “he was so impertinent.” “None but -me will pay the penalty for that,” he said, “for he was Donald Gorm of -Sleat” (_Dòmhnull Gorm Shléibhte_). Mac ’ic Ailein desired a horse to -be saddled, and he rode at full speed after, and overtook, Donald Gorm -at the inn. After much entreaty he was persuaded to return to Mac ’ic -Ailein’s house. On their arrival his wife made ample apology, and the -friendship was not broken. - -Mac ’ic Ailein had to hold MacConnel, the Herd of the Isles (_Mac -Chonnuill Buachaille nan Eileinean_) stirrup at every feast and fair. - - - - -THE BLACK RAVEN OF GLENGARRY. - - -The boundary line between the estates of Glengarry and Kintail was, for -ages, a winding river (_amhuinn cham_, literally “crooked river”) which -often overflowed its banks, changed its course, and made encroachments -on the land, sometimes on one side and as frequently on the other, -causing disputes and quarrels, in regard to their respective rights and -limits, between the proprietors of the estates which it separated; the -tenantry (_an tuath_) on each property taking the part of their chief -when the strife ran high. In order to put an end to the quarrelling -the Chief of Glengarry (_Mac ’Ic Alasdair_) at this time insisted on -a straight line being drawn to mark the boundary between them, but -MacKenzie of Kintail would not give his assent to any proposal for -changing the old line which followed the course of the river, and the -feud broke out afresh (_bha an tabaid air a bonn a rithist_). Glengarry -had three sons, and in the skirmish that took place on that occasion -the two eldest sons were killed. The youngest having been left at home -on account of his youth, escaped the fate of his brothers. He became -known afterwards as the Black Raven of Glengarry. When he grew up to -manhood his father said to him one day, “An insulting message (_fios -tàmailteach_) has been sent to me from Kintail about the boundary line, -and I must accept the challenge and gather the men, and you must go -with us.” “If it is fighting you have in view,” said the Raven, “you -must do it yourself, for me; my two dear brothers were killed through -your foolish quarrels, and I would have been killed also if I had been -old enough to be with them at the time, but since I can now understand -how trifling the cause is, I will let yourselves be fighting.” His -father could only gather his men and go to the contest without him. -When they were out of sight, the Raven put on his best suit of armour -and took several turns round the hill to elude the notice of any -straggler who might have been left, and then set off at his utmost -speed to get in advance of his father and men. Before evening closed -he was at the head of Loch Duich, where he passed the night. Next day -he procured a plaid of MacKenzie tartan which he wrapped round him to -disguise the red badge (_suaicheantas dearg_) of Glengarry, and made -his way to the enemy’s headquarters at Donan Isle (_Eilean donnan_), -where the Kintail men were rapidly gathering to the fray. It was -customary in those days to set a large long table (_bòrd mòr fada_) -supplied with abundance of food and drink for the entertainment of the -men who assembled from far and near. The Chief sat at the head, and -every man on taking his place stuck his dirk (_biodag_) in the edge -of the table in front of him before sitting down. The Black Raven got -in among the men unnoticed, and when the Chief of Kintail came in, he -said to the man who was beside him, “I wish to sit next to Kintail.” -His appearance did not betray him, and no one objected to his request, -but when he was taking the seat beside the Chief, he threw MacKenzie -backwards on the ground and put his foot upon him to keep him down, -and the point of his dirk resting on the breast of the prostrate man. -His plaid having slipped aside, the red (_an dearg_) was exposed, and -in an instant a hundred dirks were ready to riddle him (_g’ a dheanamh -’n a chriathar-tholl_); but he said, commanding them, “The moment I am -approached, your Chief will be a dead man.” “If I fall,” he said to the -Chief, “it will be on the hilt of my own weapon, and you will never -rise--its point is on your breast, and any attempt to take my life -imperils yours. I did not come here for war but for peace, and unless -you will consent to lay aside all animosities, and solemnly promise -never to renew this quarrel, your life is forfeited. I have only to -press the hilt of this dagger, on which my hand rests, and whatever -fate awaits me you will have no more power to do harm.” Kintail agreed -to make peace, and gave his oath twice on the cold iron of the dirk on -his breast that he would faithfully keep his promise. The Black Raven, -after sharing in the hospitalities provided for the occasion, returned -home, the Chief and men of Kintail accompanying him part of the way. -When he met his father with his band of fighting men, he told them to -return home, that he had done alone more than they had ever been able -to do with all their boasting and fighting; he had put an end to their -fighting, and got a guarantee for a lasting peace without one drop of -bloodshed, and henceforth if he found any one among them making or -renewing the quarrel, he would give the Chief of Kintail full liberty -to treat them as he saw proper. - -The friendship then made between the Chieftains was ever afterwards -steadily maintained by them, and the Raven became one of the most -distinguished men in the service of his country at that time. - - - - -CAILLEACH POINT, OR THE OLD WIFE’S HEADLAND, - - -Is one of the stormiest and most dangerous headlands on the west coast -of Scotland. From base to top it is rocky, and for a considerable -distance on each side. - -It faces the Island of Coll, and commands a view of the Point of -Ardnamurchan, from which it is distant about seven or eight miles. At -its base there is a strong tidal channel which has never been known to -be dry at the lowest ebb tide. From its highest point the spectre of -“Hugh of the Little Head” is said to cross on horseback to Coll to -give warning, as he is wont to do, to any descendants of the house of -Lochbuie of their approaching end. Hugh is said to have had his head -cut off by a broad sword in one of the clan skirmishes of old times. He -has his head in a blaze of fire, and the tracks of his horse seen on -the snow shew only three legs, and the terror of children and credulous -people is increased by his being said to drag a chain after him. To the -south of the Point there is a cave, which becomes accessible only when -the tide has half fallen. Its Gaelic name is _Uamh Bhuaile nan Drogh_. -Wild pigeons tenant it, and are seen emerging when the tide has fallen. -The cooing sound of the birds heard under water seems to have led to -the name, which means, the Cave of the Cattle-fold of the fairies, and -it is noticeable that the word _Drogh_ denotes that it first received -its name from a Teutonic source, very possibly from the race that came -ultimately to tenant the Orkney islands. It is said, however, that -Dutchmen possessed the fisheries on the west coast of Scotland, and -it has been suggested that the word _Drogh_ is from Dragnet, which -they kept in the cave. The tides which sweep past this point render it -more difficult and dangerous to get past in a head wind than even the -Point of Ardnamurchan, of which the dangerous character is well known. -To the north of the Point in the direction of Croig in Mull, there is -an indentation which is called _Achlais na Caillich_ (the old woman’s -oxter or armpit) where salmon nets are set. It has been characterised -as not the armpit of a smooth woman (_Achlais na mnà mìne_) and the -story which is said to have given its name to the Headland, is, that an -old woman was gathering shell-fish in the neighbourhood when the tide -began to make, and the woman finding no other means of escape made a -last effort by climbing up the rocks. When at the top, and almost out -of danger, she said “I am safe now, in spite of God and men” (_Tha -mi tearuinte nis ge b’ oil le Dia ’s le daoine_). She was converted -into a stone forming part of the rock distinctly to be seen from the -highest point of _Cailleach_. It is said that the figure of the old -woman was very distinctly to be seen at first, and hence the name of -the Headland, but time has done its own work and the figure is not now -so unmistakable. Even the origin of the name is only known to those who -are natives of the neighbourhood. - -On one occasion, the writer being himself ensconced under the side deck -of a smack, then plying to the island, heard a Tiree boatman, who was -conversing with a minister from the south of Argyleshire, and had no -fancy for the overly pious talk of the too-zealous stranger, remarking -that there was an old woman here and when she gave a snort, she could -be heard over in Coll. [“_Tha Cailleach an so ’s trà nì i sreothart -cluinnidh iad ’an Cola i._”] The minister said that that was most -extraordinary, and as it now began to rain the boatman began to exhort -him to go below, and professed much regard for the minister’s health. -At last he got rid of him. - - - - -A TRADITION OF ISLAY. - - -The western isles according to tradition were thinly inhabited for a -long period of years, after the defeat and expulsion of the Norsemen. -These invaders had left few of the natives alive and the land remained -desolate. The first man then who took possession of the country was -powerful John MacConnal who was called, the shepherd of the isles, -and the first of the lords of the isles (_Iain mòr Maconuil ris an -abairteadh buachaille nan eileanan, b’e ceud tighearna nan eileanan_). -He had seven sons, among whom, when they came of age, he began to -divide his possessions, but the Highlands and isles being too limited -in his opinion for division among so many, he went away to Ireland -with one of his sons, to overthrow one or more of the five kings by -whom that country was then governed, and put his son in possession of -any territory he might acquire in the contest, leaving his eldest son -in Islay, which was the first of the isles possessed by him. In this -enterprise he succeeded in seizing that part of Ireland then under the -authority of the Earl of Antrim, and gave it to his son, whose nephew -came from Islay, when some years had passed, to see him in Antrim. This -nephew during one of those visits fell in love with a noblewoman of the -country whom he asked in marriage. His proposal being agreed to, he was -requested, as was then the custom, to name the dowry he wanted with -her. His request was 700 men who had nicknames (_far-ainmeannan_) to -take with him to Islay. In those days, it is said, that great men and -nobles only had pseudonyms and he took this method of getting these and -their followers to repeople the isles, and their descendants are yet to -be found in many parts of the country as well as in the islands. - - -NOTES: - - Islay is separated from the island of Jura by the sound of Islay and - lies west of Cantyre in Argyleshire. Its extent is 25 miles long and - 17 miles broad. The south west point is called the Rhinns (_an roinn - Ileach_). The island is hilly and penetrated by an arm of the sea, - Lochindaal, which is 12 miles long and 8 miles broad. There are good - crops grown on the island and cattle are reared and fish is abundant - on its coasts. A small quantity of various kinds of ore is found - throughout the island, but its distilleries are its chief industry at - the present day. It was in former times the chief residence of the - Lords of the Isles, and the ruins of castles, forts, and chapels are - numerous and interesting as records of a past age. - - The Beatons or Bethunes and MacLarty are said to have been among - those who came from Ireland with _MacConuil_. The latter being - descendants of grey haired Niel (_Nial Liath_) who was interpreter - (_fear-labhairt_) for Maconnal, hence the name. It is told of Niel, - that being at one time surrounded by his enemies in a battle, he was - commanded to deliver his sword. “If I do,” he said, “it will be by the - point” (_ma liubhras, ’sann an aghaidh a ranna_), and cleaving his way - through them he escaped and joined his companions. - - After his settlement in the western island MacConnal (_Iain Mòr - MacConuill_) is said to have divided his possessions among his - seven sons by sending one of them John (_Iain_) to Glencoe, hence - the patronymic Clan of the son of John of Glencoe (_Clann ’ic Iain - Ghleann-a-comhunn_), another son Ronald (_Raonull_) was sent to - Keppoch (_a’ Cheapaich_), one Allan (_Ailean_) was sent to Moidart - (_Mùideart_). These were settled on the mainland in the counties of - Argyle and Inverness, while the island of Skye was given to another - son, Grim Donald of Sleat, (_Dòmhnull gorm Shléibhte_). Another son - got the smaller isles, and another went to Ireland and became Earl of - Antrim while the heir remained in Islay and held the adjacent islands - as well as portions of the mainland. Of the 700 who returned with - his son from Antrim to people the islands after the expulsion of the - Norsemen, 22 were heads of families. The person from whom the writer - heard this, now above 70 years of age, was certain that Beaton or - Bethune was one of the names, but he had forgotten the others. - - - - -FAIR LACHLAN, SON OF FAIR NEIL OF DERVAIG. - -(_Lachunn fionn mac Neill bhàin, Fear Dhearbhaig._) - - -At the time when Lachlan Kattanach was Chief of MacLean (_ri linn -Mhic-’illeathain Lachunn Cattanach na gruaige_), his wife (_a -bhantighearna_) dreamt about an Irish chief of the name of William -O’Power (?) (_Uilleam O’ buaidh_) and in the same way, at the same -time, this Irish Chief dreamt about her. It happened then that they -began to communicate with each other. (At that time more trade was -carried on with Ireland by these Western Isles than with any other -place.) One day MacLean discovered that his wife was keeping on a -correspondence, unknown to him, with the Irish Chief, and was much -distressed about this injury to his honour. In order to test his wife’s -affection for her secret lover, he went to her with a penknife in his -hand and said, “There is a present _O’ buaidh_ has sent you.” She -looked at the knife and said, - - “My darling who sent me the knife - I weary at his delay in coming across the sea, - And may I not enjoy health - If I do love it better than the hand that holds it.” - - (M’ eudail ’chuir thugam an sgian - ’S fhada leam a thriall thar muir, - ’S na ’n a mheall mi mo shlàint’ - Mur docha leam i na’n lamh ’sa bheil). - -MacLean was then convinced of his wife’s disgrace, and went away -and sent for his kinsman, Fair Lachlan (_Lachunn fionn_) who was -then at Hynish, and who, on receiving a message from his Chief, went -immediately to Island House. On reaching, MacLean said to him, “I sent -for you to go to Ireland; you are a clever man and you have seven sons, -go and bring me the head of O’Power, and any crime you may commit, -or any injustice you may from this time do to any one, will be over -looked by me (_tha thu ’n ad dhuine tapaidh ’s seachdnar mhac agad, -falbh ’s thoir g’ am ionnsuidh ceann Uilleam O’ buaidhe ’s aona chron -na anaceart sam bith nì thu theid a mhathadh dhuit leamsa_). Next day, -_Lachunn fionn_ with his sons set off in the galley, and before sundown -he was in Islay. The following day he was in Ireland, and asked the -first person he met for the man he was tracing (_a bha e air a luirg_). -“If you wish to see him,” the person said, “he is coming this way, in -a coach drawn by two white horses, and no one in Ireland has that but -himself.” The old man then went on to try and meet him, and after going -a short distance he saw him coming towards him to meet him (_chaidh -an sean duine air aghaidh feuch an tachradh e air, ’s an ceann ceum -na dhà chunnaic e e tighinn ’na choinneamh ’s ’na chòmhail_). When he -came near, O’Power (_O’ buaidh_) commanded him to stop, and said, “I -see you are a stranger in the place?” “Indeed,” he replied, (_seadh -ars’ esan_). “Whence have you come?” the Chief asked, (_Co ás a thàinig -thu?_). “I came from Tiree,” he answered. “Do you know the lady of -MacLean there?” “I know her well,” he said. “Will you bring her a -message from me?” (_An toir thu fios uam g’ a h-ionnsuidh?_) “I will,” -he said, (_bheir, ars’ esan_). The chief there and then put the message -in order, and put his head out of the coach to deliver it, but the -other, while taking it with the one hand, struck off his head with the -other hand. (_Sin fhéin chuir e ’n teachdaireachd air doigh ’s chuir e -mach a cheann g’ a toirt dà, ’s ’nuair bha e ’ga gabhail leis an aona -laimh thilg e dheth an ceann leis an laimh eile_). The man-servant was -stupified (lit. went astray), (_chaidh an gille air seacharan_), and -Fair Lachlan got an opportunity (_fhuair e fàth_) of taking the head -with him to the galley with which he set sail (_leig e ri cuain di_) -and was in Islay on his return journey that evening. Next day after -(_maireach ’na dheighinn sin_) he was in Tiree, and went early in the -day to Island House (_do ’n eilean_). Finding, on reaching, that -MacLean and his wife were at breakfast, he went in where they were and -put the head of the Irish Chief on the end of the table, with the face -towards MacLean’s wife. She looked at it and fell down stone dead at -the side of the table (_sheall i air ’s thuit i fuar marbh aig taobh a’ -bhùird_). Some time after this Fair Lachlan’s sons were taking peats -home from Moss to Hynish. There were five of them with seven horses, -which were fastened together, and went on one after another, having a -sort of deep basket (_cliabh_) slung on each side of each horse for -the conveyance of burdens. On account of Big Dewar of Balemartin, -who was so fierce, (_co fiadhaich_) they could not take the straight -way by Balemartin to Hynish, but had to take the more rugged path by -Hynish hill, where, at _Creag nan cliabh_ (Creel rock) the footpath -was so narrow that on these occasions a person was in waiting to be in -readiness to take the creels off the horses and carry them past the -rock. At that time, there was a mill past Balviceon, with a bridge -across the dam which had to be lifted before sundown, and on their way -they had to pass across the bridge. It happened on this occasion that -the young men, by their own folly (_le ’n amaideachd fhein_), were -later than usual of returning, and the bridge was withdrawn; and with -the speed with which they were going on, they did not observe that the -bridge was lifted, and the foremost of the horses went headlong into -the dam and was choked (_air a thachdadh_). The lads made their way -home, and told their father how the miller had taken away the bridge, -and what had happened to them. He said, “If my horse was choked on -his account (_air a thàillibh_), the same thing will be done to him -to-night yet”; and that was what happened. He and his sons went back -the same way, step by step, (_air a’ cheart cheum_), and they caught -the poor man while he was asleep (_rug iad air an duine ’na leabaidh_) -and took him with them and hung him on the hillock of the cross (_bac -na croiche_), opposite Island House. When a servant went in early -next morning to kindle a fire in the room where MacLean was, he asked -what sort of day it was. The servant said that it was a good day, but -that a strange sight was to be seen (_ni a tha cuir ioghnadh mór orm ri -fhaicinn_). “What is that?” the Chief asked. “It is a man hung on the -hillock up yonder (_duine air a chrochadh air a’ chroich shuas ud_). -MacLean said, as he rose up, “Who or what person dared do this without -my permission? (_Co an aona duine ’san dùthaich aig an robh ’chridh -leithid so dheanamh gun chuir ’nam cheadsa?_) When he saw the deed that -was done, he shed bitter tears, and said that no one had done this but -Fair Lachlan (_cha d’ rinn duine riamh so ach Lachunn fionn_). “It was -in the agreement I made with him when he brought me the man’s head from -Ireland.” This was the last hanging that was done in the island (_b’e -so an crochadh mu dheireadh a rinneadh ’s an eilean_). - -[Illustration: THE MESSAGE DELIVERED TO THE LOVER AND THE MANNER OF HIS -DEATH.] - - - - -LEGENDARY HISTORY. - - - - -PRINCESS THYRA OF ULSTER AND HER LOVERS. - -A STORY OF LOCHMAREE.[21] - - -At one time the King of Denmark is said to have sent his son to the -Scottish court along with six others (_seisear eile_). They landed in -Caithness, where, as they came chiefly for sport, they began to look -for deer and other wild animals, and to enquire where they were to be -found. They were told that all animals of the chase had become scarce -since more people had come to that part, but that in the neighbouring -parts of the country, especially in Ross-shire, they were still -numerous, and if they went there they would get abundant sport. They -went, and while they remained lived in a house of the MacKenzies’, near -Lochmaree. One day then, when following deer in the hill, the young -prince got separated from his companions, who each and all found their -way safely home. When he came in sight of the house, being fatigued, -he sat down by the roadside and fell asleep. He was awakened by the -sound of voices, and on looking he saw two men, one of whom was young -and the other old, coming on the road towards him with a young woman -walking between. He got up, and as they were coming nearer he was -making out that he never saw a more beautiful woman. He stood before -them and spoke. The old man said, “You are doing wrong in delaying us -on our way.” “Methinks,” said the young prince, “that I am not doing -any thing out of the way, nor have I spoken a wrong word.” The old man -got angry, and calling him rough names said he was ill-bred. “That was -not the way in which I was taught,” the prince answered, “I have the -blood of the kings of Denmark in my veins, and I am inclined to put -your head as low as your shoes for your ill words (_air son do dhroch -bheul_) which I have not deserved.” When the old man heard this he -became afraid, and made excuses for the warmth of temper he had shewn, -but said he was under vows to protect the girl from all intrusion, -“the reason being that she is with us under the vows of the church -(_fo naomhachadh na h-eaglais_), by her father’s commands,” and told -him that they came ashore from the monastery of Isle-maree and were to -return before nightfall. “I would like well to know who the maiden is -whom you befriend,” said the young prince. “The name of the daughter -is,” the old man answered, “Princess Thyra (_Deorath_) of the house -of Ulster in Ireland--and let us now pass.” In the parting the young -prince said to the maiden, “As this has been our first meeting, so I -fear it is to be our last: Farewell!” “I do not say,” she answered. He -went home, but, after some days, returned to the same place expecting -to see the same company, but no one came ashore from the islet that -day. The next time he went he waited two days in vain, and the third -time three days, and returned home in the same way ill-pleased at his -mischance. He then resolved to go to the isle if there was a way of -getting to it. He was told that a man on the other side of the loch -had a boat, and he went to him and got him to go with him. On landing, -the man pointed out to him the way to the monastery, and told him that -he would come to a well, which he was not to pass till he drank of its -water; that the well was famed for its efficacy in every malady to -which mankind is subject, and especially in restoring those who had -lost their reason; “and beside the well,” said the man, “there is a -tree with a hollow in its side (_slochd ’n a taobh_), and no one goes -past it without putting something of more or less value in.” The youth -went ashore, and, heedless of tree and well, reached the house and -demanded admittance at the first door he met. When asked what brought -him, or why he came, he said he came to see the Irish princess. He was -told that could not be (_ni nach gabhadh deanamh_). He then asked if -there was any one in authority of whom he could make the request, and -was told there was the oldest of rank in the monastery, who, when he -came, said, “No! you cannot see the princess.” The young man then told -who he was, and said, “If I want her for my wife and she consents, can -you prevent the union?” “We will leave the matter to her own will,” -the old man answered. She came gladly, and the prince spent that -day on the islet. Before he left she said, “I have a doubt in this -matter.” “What is that?” he asked. “It is that I never saw you but -once before now, neither did you see me, and if love comes quickly, -it may go as quickly.” “You know that from yourself,” he said. “No,” -she answered. He told her to look at the evening star, which was to be -seen in the south-western sky, and said, “As truly as that star shines -on yonder hill, so truly do I love you.” “I have another doubt,” she -said. “Your doubts are very many,” he said. Her doubt was, that Red -Hector of the hills, as he was called from being among the hills day -and night, would be a dangerous foeman if he met him on his way. He -returned, landed, and having cause, as he thought, to be pleased with -events, was going on joyously and light-hearted, whistling as he went -along. He was not far on his way when an arrow passed close to his -face; the next one stuck in his bonnet. He stood looking about him and -saw a big man standing beside a rock that was at the roadside before -him. “What sort of man are you, when you are going to make a target -of me?” the prince said. “Have you never heard of Red Hector of the -hills (_Eachann Ruadh nan cnoc_)? If you have not, you now see him and -will feel his skill. There is a matter to settle between us which can -never be done but in one way, and that is, that you kill me or I kill -you.” They took their swords, one each (_claidheamh an t-aon_), blood -was shed; the prince then asked if there was no other way of settling -the matter except by bloodshed. “Do not waste speech (_Na bi ’cosg do -sheanachais_); that you kill me or I kill you, there is no other way,” -he said, and struck the prince on the side with his sword and sorely -wounded him. He fell and his enemy fled. The wounded man kept his hand -on the wound, but whenever he moved the blood spurted from it, and he -was passing the night in that way till his tongue became swollen in his -mouth. In the midst of his agony he heard the drip of a streamlet in -the hollow underneath where he lay, and tried to move himself towards -it, but could not, though he made every effort. At last he thought -it was better to bleed to death than die of thirst, and by dragging -himself along he reached the water, but before he got to drink of it -he fainted and lay beside the streamlet till next day, when those, the -humane people (_na daoine cneasda_), who came ashore in the boat heard -his moaning, and recognising him, took him back to the islet, where -he remained unconscious for many weeks, during which his own men, who -had been brought to the isle, and the princess attended him. When he -recovered and knew that the maiden’s constant care and watchfulness -had helped to restore him to life, he expressed much gratitude. “When -you are up and well,” she said, “it will be time to thank me.” He kept -telling her every day how he would take her to Denmark. One day then -a ship was seen coming, from which a boat was sent ashore to take -away the maiden, whose father lay dying. “Will you return?” he said. -“I will return,” she said. “And you will not forget me among your own -people.” “Nothing but death will prevent my return,” she said. She went -away, and nothing was heard of her for many days. In his impatience -the prince sent men from day to day to the top of the highest hills to -look for the ship. At last they saw three ships coming, and the first -had the royal flag of Ireland in its topmast. Some time before the -maiden left the islet, the prince one day when on land met an old man -who intercepted him; his men bade the intruder keep to one side of the -road, but the man refused to be put aside, and the prince then asked -what his business was with him. “Do not speak so gruffly,” the old man -said, “I have come to you, as I am in need of shelter, to ask if you -will take me into your service while you are here.” “My burden is on -others at present,” the prince said, “and little an old man like you -with a staff in his hand can do to help me. Have you a house or home?” -“I had till yesterday; to-day I have nothing. I had house, wife, son, -land, cattle, and yesterday every beast that I had was lifted, except -a stray sheep, and my son went in search of it and fell over the rocks -(_chaidh am balach leis na creagan_) and was killed. When his mother -heard what had happened to him she went to the place, and on seeing her -son dead she leapt in the sea and was drowned, and I am left alone. -If you will take me with you I will do you more service in the hills -than a younger man can do.” He said his name was MacKenzie (_Dùghall -MacChoinnich_). The prince took him to be with them while they remained -in the isle. - -When the ships were seen the prince went to the highest summit of the -hills, taking with him, among the rest, the old man, who on their way -said, “Delay (_air do shocair_), till I tell you my dream.” “I care -naught for dreams,” the other said. “Will you not listen, for I dreamt -the same dream three nights after each other; and it was that she was -dead.” “We wish to get joyous news and you have given us instead news -of sorrow.” The old man then said, “I will go to the ship, and when I -reach, if all is well you will see a red signal, and if sorrow awaits -you it will be a black one.” He went, and on reaching, she was there. -She knew him and asked if all was well. He told her, and she said, “He -is impatient for news.” He then persuaded the princess, against her -own will and the advice of those around her, to shew the death-signal, -saying the joy of seeing her living would compensate her lover for the -deception. When the signal was seen by those on land, the prince said -he could no longer live, and took his dagger from its sheath and killed -himself. When the princess reached the shore, those who met her told -her how her lover, believing that she was dead, had killed himself. She -asked where he was, and said that no seen or unseen power could prevent -her from taking a last farewell, and that she would go alone and do no -injury to herself. When she was going in where the dead body lay, she -noticed that some one was following her, and turning she saw that the -intruder was the old man, “Wretched Dugall (_a dhroch Dhùghaill_), what -evil advice you gave me.” “That is not my name,” he said, “I am Red -Hector of the hills, and this is my revenge!” and he killed her with -his dirk. He then disappeared and was never seen or heard of in the -country after that time. - - - NOTES: - -[21] Lochmaree is in the west of Ross-shire. It lies S.E. and N.W., and -has 24 islets throughout its length of about 18 miles. Its breadth is -from one to two miles, and its depth prevents its water from freezing. - - - - -GARLATHA. - -A TRADITION OF HARRIS. - - -At one time it is said the outermost of the western isles formed three -separate and independent possessions; the northern part of the Long -Island (_an t-eilean fada_),[22] Lewis (_Leòdhais_), was held by one -Cenmal (_Ceannamhaol_ [baldhead]), who was a king, while the southern -portion, Harris (_na h-Earra_), was owned by a prince; and another -king, one named Keligan [thin one], possessed Uist, which is further -south. In this way Lewis and Uist had each a king, while there was only -a prince in Harris. This prince, who was famed for his courage and -bravery, was held in great esteem by those on his land for the good -advice (_na comhairlean dealbhach_) they readily got from him and the -benefits he conferred on them. He discouraged bickerings and jealousy -(_farmad_) among his subordinates and neighbours, and spread among -them a knowledge of many useful arts. He encouraged manual labour as -well as manly exercise and the recitation of poems, romance, etc. His -wife, Garlatha, was not less namely for her goodness to those around -her, among whom she promoted thrifty and industrious habits, and taught -the use and methods of preparing different kinds of roots, grain and -plants, for food and healing, and to be kind and tender to the weak -and infirm, and to live good lives. In this way the people on their -land were contented with their condition and sought no change. Garlatha -died, it is said, about 800 A.D.--a long time ago, but whatever it -was, she went away, (and it was not to be helped), leaving an infant -daughter who was named after her mother, Garlatha. As the girl grew up -it was seen that she inherited her mother’s good gifts, and the people -were equally well pleased with her. In time she began to be spoken -about and heard of, and was sought in marriage by numerous suitors. The -king who ruled in Lewis was eager in pursuit of her (_’an tòir oirre_), -and crossed over to see her. The ruler (_fear-riaghlaidh_) of Uist came -on the same errand. One day then her father said to her, “Daughter, I -wish to see you married, before the end of my life comes, to a good -man, and I am looking to see which of those men who come to see you is -the most suitable, and I see that it will suit you best to take him -who is in Lewis.” His daughter preferred the one who owned Uist, but -by her father’s advice word was sent to the possessor of Lewis to come -and that he would get her. He came, and being well pleased with his -reception every arrangement was made, and they were married. Afterwards -the bride said to a maid, “You will go in to the entertainment -(_fleadh_) and among the company: I am going to hide myself.” This was -done, and the company sat at the feast without the bride, for whose -coming a long delay was made. When it was seen that she would not -return, the question of what had become of her or where she was, was -asked of every one, but no one knew. The maid was asked, but she had -not any knowledge or tale (_fios no sgeul_) to tell of where the lost -one was to be found. The time was passing _(bha ’n ùineachd ’ruith_) -and search was made outside for her, but she was not found. Then they -looked for her from place to place, where it was possible to find her, -but without success. The night passed, leaving the feast untouched and -the guests cheerless. Next day the search was renewed along the shores -and among the hills, and in every direction from day to day, till -there was not a spot between Barra Head and the Butt of Lewis where a -bird could sleep, that was not searched, but there was no trace of her -(_cha d’ fhuaireadh riamh i, cha d’ fhuaireadh idir i_). The father -continued to wander about, searching in vain, for many years after -all hope of finding her was dead, till at last he was seen to turn -every leaf he met with the staff in his hand, and even to look under -ragweed (_buaghallan_). He died, and she was not found. The place, -Harris, was then 200 years without any one to own it (_thug an t-àite -sin dà cheud bliadhna gun duine ann_). MacLeod (_fear Mac Leòid_) then -took possession of the country and began to build new houses; the -old dwellings had become uninhabitable (_air dol fàs_); the roof had -fallen in (_thuit an ceann ’n am broinn_). When clearing out one of -these an old chest was found, and on lifting it the lower part remained -on the ground, with the skeleton of a woman resting in it, each bone -according to its place (_cnàimh a réir cnàimh_), and by its side the -wedding-ring, as new as it was on the day it was put on her finger, -with the name “Garlatha” engraved on it, and from that the story came. - - - NOTES: - -[22] The Long Island includes the whole of the land between the Butt of -Lewis and Barra Head. - - - - -STORIES ABOUT THE FAIRIES. - - - - -THE TRADITION OF A HOUSEWIFE AND HER FAIRY VISITOR. - - -The incidents of this tradition are said to have happened in Lewis, but -the readiness with which similar stories are appropriated and localised -makes it improbable that the circumstances occurred in any special -locality. In this instance the person from whom the story was heard -being a native of Lewis will account for the incidents of the story -having been said to have taken place in that Island. The story is as -follows:-- - -The wife of a tenant farmer, who lived with his family in an extremely -remote and hilly rough district, was frequently left alone in the -house, as she had no daughters, while her husband and sons were away at -the labour of the farm, or fishing. It happened one day after they had -left, that the housewife having finished her housework, sat as usual at -the spinning-wheel to spin thread for cloth (_clò_) for their clothing. -She had not long begun her labour, when, happening to look towards the -door, she saw a little woman of reddish appearance coming in at the -door with a dog before and one after her. “Woman,” she said, “you are -spinning.” “I am,” the housewife answered. “Will you give me a drink of -water?” she said. “Take it yourself,” the housewife said. “The water is -good, where is the well?” she asked. “It is down,” said the one who was -in, “in the opening of the hollow of the glen (_aig dorus ’an lag a’ -ghlinne_).” The fay woman (_a’ bhean-shìth_) then asked the housewife -to lend her a small cauldron, and the other woman believing her to be -sister-in-law or some other relative she did not know of the wife of -her nearest neighbour, who lived far distant from them and was married -to an Ardnamurchan woman, said to her, “There is a table there with -several utensils (_caigionn choireachan_) on its shelf; take with you -any of them that will answer.” When she brought it, she asked for the -suspender (_bùlas_) and lid. The moment she got them she fitted them in -and told the dogs that were with her to take that with them. The dogs -immediately caught the three-legged pot and took it with them. When -her husband came home the housewife said, “I think there is a stranger -with our neighbours,” and told him about her visitor. “Perhaps,” her -husband said, “she is the sister-in-law; it was time some one came to -see the wife, for none of her friends have been since she came here.” -“I never saw the sort of dogs she had, ever here,” his wife said, and -described to him the dogs and how they were different altogether from -sheep-dogs. “Our neighbours have only one dog and it is a sheep-dog,” -he said. This day passed and another and the third, but the cauldron -was not returned. The housewife then sent one of her sons to ask the -neighbours to return the loan. These said that they did not get a loan -of anything, as they did not require it, having more cauldrons and -kettles than was required by themselves, and that no strangers had -come or were with them. The housewife was at her wit’s end and did -not know in the world or time to come (_uile bheatha na dìlinn_) what -to think about the matter. On the fifth day, however, the self-same -one returned with the cauldron. “I am sure,” she said, “that you were -missing the cauldron.” “I was,” the housewife replied, “not from any -need I had of it at the time, but because I did not know who the one -was that took it away.” “I am sure you did not know who took it,” -said the one that came in, “but I knew you too well; many a day you -sang songs above my house (_’s iomadh latha ’sheinn thu luinneag air -mullach an tigh agam_).” “Will you sit?” said the one who was spinning. -“I will sit and tell my story if you are sure that no one will come -in while I am here.” As was customary in those days the byre adjoined -the dwelling-house, whatever kind of wall (_sgàth-balla_) separated -them, and one of the cows that had calved and was in the byre, made -a disturbance (_straighlich_). The next look the woman took she was -alone. On her husband’s return, she said, “You may not leave me here -alone; one of the children must be left with me or I will be where you -are;” and she told him about the second time her strange visitor came -and how suddenly she had disappeared. The goodman then went for advice -to one, the minister, who he knew was able to give him good counsel. On -telling about the undesirable visitor his wife had, the advice he got -was that he was to pull down his house as quickly as possible, and to -put it at the other end of the land; “and when you will pull down your -house, every particle (_h-uile pioc_) of the thatch that covers it is -to be burnt within the rafters on which nine cogfuls of sea-water or -charmed (_naoi cuachan sàile no uisge coisrigte_) is to be poured.” -The goodman returned home with this advice. When his wife heard it she -said that she must get women to help her to finish the cloth she was -working at, and it was agreed to give her the help she required. On -account of the dampness of the houses the method of keeping the thread -and wool dry was by hanging them up to the rafters. Next morning the -goodwife missed a pile of wool from its place, but believing that it -was her son, who often played pranks on her, who had removed it, she -said nothing regarding its disappearance. Next day, however, she was -astonished at seeing her late strange visitor with another and a taller -one coming in. “I am sure,” said the little redhued one, “you were -missing the bag of wool We took it with us to help you, and there it is -brought home made into thread, and your own thread that we took with us -for a pattern (_leth-bhreac_); and any time you have thread to spin, we -are ready to help you.” The goodwife was overcome with fear and could -not utter a word to them. They went away, and she never saw themselves -or their shadow (_an dubh no’n dath_) ever afterwards. The house was -taken down and another was built where they chose it to be, but after -some time an old man saw five of the fairy company leaving the well at -the foot of the glen, each carrying a vessel full of water, and the -place where he saw them going in and lost sight of them, was afterwards -quarried, and the stone taken from it was employed to build a church -that stands at the present day. An opening that was met with, in the -quarry, where human bones were found, was supposed to be the place -where the fairy band entered their dwelling. - - - - -THE WISE WOMAN OF DUNTULM AND THE FAIRIES. - - -A Lord of the Isles, MacConnal (_Buachaille nan Eileinean_), long ago -had two sons, but only one could get the estate at his death. When that -happened the eldest son said one day to the youngest, “You are now left -without anything, but, that you may not be altogether portionless, go -to Duntulm and you will get there a piece of land that you will have to -yourself.” The lands of Duntulm, in the northern part of the Island of -Skye, were at that time occupied by a prosperous tenantry, consisting -chiefly of crofters and the holders of a few larger farms. The youngest -brother was told that the rent he would get from these tenants would -maintain him, and he was to build a house and marry a wife. He agreed -to go to Duntulm, where he was not a long time settled till a claim was -made on his land for the king’s dues, the crown tax being in proportion -to the amount of land which he held. The first time the tax (_a’ chìs_) -was asked, he said, in answer to the demand which was made, “I will -not pay any tax. Why should I pay it? What right has the king to get -it?” An order was sent to him every year for payment of the tax, but -if it was, for six years he did not pay any of it (_cha do phàidh e -sgillinn_). At last the king sent fifty soldiers and one officer to -take the rent from him in spite of him (_thar ’amhaich_), and since he -would pay to neither king nor soldier, the lands were taken from him -and they were now attached to the crown. The king was receiving the -revenue, and a Skye carl (_bodach Sgitheanach_) called John Donaldson -MacWilliam (_Iain Mac Dhòmhnuil’ic Uilleim_) was appointed a factor -to collect the rents from the crofters. He lived sixteen miles from -Duntulm, among the crofts, where he went twice a year to gather the -tax. MacConnal’s castle was built on a precipitous bank, on the west -side of which there was a big pit into which every high tide sent a -flow of water that kept it always full, forming a deep pool (_glumag_) -that sometimes proved dangerous to the unwary. One day it happened -that whatever a crofter, one Macrury, was doing at the castle, he fell -headlong into the pool, and however it was, whether he was killed by -the fall or drowned, he was found dead next day anyhow. He left two -sons who were not of age to help their widowed mother, for whom much -sympathy was felt by her neighbours on account of her being left so -helpless (_bha i air a fàgail cho lom_). Next spring after this the -two lads were drowned in a boat with which they were bringing sea-ware -home, and being now alone she could not work her croft nor pay her -rent. When everything was spent, and she had only one cow left of her -fold of cattle, the factor came for the tax. On reaching the township -he took with him a carle, friendly to himself, to the widow’s house, -where the neighbours had gathered to ascertain the object of their -visit. When the factor was told that the poor woman had no means to pay -her rent, he asked if she had no cattle. She said that she had only one -cow and that it was grazing at some distance from the house. He asked -it to be brought where he was, and when he saw it he said, “It is a -pity there are not more of the kind.” Being the only one, it had got -all the attention and was in good condition. She said she had no other. -He said, “We will keep this one for the dues.” It was taken away from -the widow and put in a field that was surrounded by a stone wall, near -the castle, along with the small red pony which the factor had with -him. While he was in search of some one to drive it away, and taking -his dinner in the carle’s house, the young men of Duntulm climbed over -the wall of the field, though high, and got out the animals, which they -drove to the shore, where a boat was in readiness in which they were -taken to the islet of Fladda (_Fladda ’chuain_), two miles off. The -men put them ashore there, and had their boat drawn up in Duntulm Bay -before the factor and his companion returned to look for their property -and found the park empty. On asking the men, who had again gathered, -if they knew how the animals had escaped or where they were, they said -there was no gap in the wall known to them, and that the only person -likely to know of their whereabouts was a gifted woman who lived near -the castle, in search of whom two of them went. They found her at home, -on reaching the height where her house was, and told her all that had -occurred, and how she was to go with them and say that the cattle had -been charmed away to some wonderful place. Isabel said that she was -not well prepared to go that day. The men asked what preparation she -lacked (_’dé an cion dòigh a bh’ oirre_). She then asked for one of the -men’s broad bonnets, and when she got it, rose, and leaving her hair, -which was becoming grey, streaming over her shoulders, she put it on, -and tying a goatskin round her, tying her shoes and making garters -with stripes of the same fur, she put a rope of straw round her waist -and took a large staff in her hand. “She is prepared at last, and come -now,” the men said. When she came in sight, the factor looked at her in -amazement, for he had never before seen a creature of her appearance. -Before she came near he called, “Wife, do you know where the horse and -cow I put in the park are now?” She paid no attention to him, but kept -on coming nearer (_cha do lag i air a ceum_), till she stood at his -shoulder. “To whom did the animals belong?” she asked him then. “The -cow belonged to the king,” he said, “and the horse to myself.” “How -could a cow belonging to the king be in this township?” she asked. -“This woman gave it to me for the tax,” he said, pointing to the widow. -“She did not give it to you; she said you took it with you; and it is -now that I understand the meaning of what happened when I was in my own -house to-day, and heard an uproar (_straighlich_) in the air above that -was greater than any one could ever have heard, and on looking for the -cause of it, there it was in a fire; and though all the fires that you -ever saw were gathered together, they would not make one like it; and -in the last of the fire (_’an earball an teine_) I looked to see what -there was, and what was there but a horse and cow, while there were as -good as five thousand little men, the hill men (_muinntir nan cnoc_), -who were not larger than bottles, going on, on each side of the fire; -and if you had as much knowledge of the dwellers of these hills as I -have, you would not touch the widow’s portion, but if you are anxious -to get back the animals--there before you, is the hill where they are, -and where you can go and seek them, and if you can, find them.” The -man, who was terrified by her appearance and words, kept looking at -her (_’g a feitheamh_) and always drawing a step further off. He went -home without horse or cow, and however long he remained in the office -he held, the fear of the wise woman, (_Iseabal N’ic Rao’uill_) and the -fairies kept him from ever returning to Duntulm. When he was out of -sight of the township, the young men of Duntulm went to the islet where -they left the animals, which they brought back and gave to the poor -woman, who was then able to pay the tax. - - - - -FOLK TALES. - - - - -THE TWO BROTHERS. - -A TALE OF ENCHANTMENT. - - -In early times, long ago, (_’an toiseach an t-saoghail, o chionn nan -cian_), it is said that the island of Mull was uninhabited except by -a few families who were living, on the south side at Carsaig, in that -part of the island known as the Ross of Mull. These families lived -isolated from the rest of the world; none of them had ever seen any -one from anywhere else there, and none of themselves had ever left -the place. They had no boats, and they said the other islets and land -that they were seeing opposite were other worlds. One day, then, they -saw coming on the sea before them (_mu’n comhair_) from the mainland a -speck (_dùradan_), and when it came near they compared it to a horse -with a tree standing on its back, but when it came to the shore it was -a boat made of wicker-work covered with hides, with one man in it, who -had some drink with him, and a quantity of hazel nuts for food. On -account of his boat being covered with hides[23], they named him “The -cowhide man, (_am boicionnach_). On landing, he told them how he had -left home, out of curiosity to see other places, and that was the first -place he was able to reach. He is said to have come from Ardencaple in -the district of Lorn on the mainland (_Ard-nan-capull, ’an Lathurna_.) -He stayed a long time with them, as they treated him kindly, being -much pleased with him. He taught them new ways that were useful to -them in their every-day life, and by his skill and knowledge promoted -their welfare in many ways. On seeing that they were not utilizing the -milk of their cows and goats by making cheese from it, he asked them -the reason of this. They told him that they did not know what cheese -was, as they had never heard of it nor seen it, and would like well -to know how it was made. They had the art of making butter among them -previous to his coming. He took in _Lus-buidhe-bealltainn_, (marsh -marigold) and putting its stalks in the milk turned it to curds and -whey. This is said to be the first cheese that was made in Mull. Some -time, nearly a year after this, another boat, or, as they described -it, a horse with a tree in its back, was seen coming in the same way. -This one came ashore at Lochspelvie, further eastward, and had one -man in it also, whom they named “The one in the skin coverings” (_an -craicionnach_). He was brother to the one who came before, and had -come in search of him. The two strangers and the natives were agreeing -well together, and the brothers began to build a boat when they found -wood abundant in Mull. When the boat was finished they named it “the -six-oared boat” (_iùrach nan sia ràmh_), and when it was fitted up and -made ready for sailing, the two brothers took a crew with them and set -off in it, to go to one or other of the worlds (_na saoghalan eile_) -that they were seeing before them, and reached Jura (_Diùra_), but -the natives of the island would not let them land, as they had never -seen a boat before. They stoned them away from the shore. They then -went to Colonsay, but the Colonsay men (_na Colosaich_) were equally -hard-hearted (_doirbh_). They attacked them, and tried to blind them by -throwing sand about their eyes. It was then that they went on to the -green (_lit._, blue) island (_an t-eilean gorm_), the name by which -Islay was then known, where they arrived at a more favourable time, no -one being before them at the shore. They drew the boat up on the land, -and went on to see if there were people to be found on the island or -if they would meet with anyone who could direct them to a house. The -first person they met was an old man who was watching cattle (_aig aire -sreud_). He thought they belonged to the island, as no one was known -to have ever come to or gone away from it. The first of the brothers -who came, asked the old man to give him information about the place. -The old man remarked, “How curious your speech is, if you were born -in this island.” He said, “No, I am not a native of this island.” The -old man said, “And if not, what has brought you here?” “The reason of -my coming is, to ask what you can give, and give what I may.” The old -man then, as it was nightfall, kindled a fire, and they sat with him -till daylight, when men and houses were to be seen. The Islay men were -hospitable to the strangers, who remained a full year and built seven -boats for them. The elder brother married a woman of the country, and -after some time he thought of returning to Mull again. Having prepared -his boat he set off, taking his wife and the others with him, and set -his course northwards (_aghaidh a bhàta, tuath_). They had not gone -far when a thick mist came on which darkened their world, and as they -had no compass and could see no land, they drifted till the boat went -in to a shore. This was the first appearance of land they saw since -leaving the _Eilean Gorm_. A big man came down where they were--they -never saw his equal for size--and he caught the fore part of the boat -and drew it up above high water mark, with them all in it. He invited -them to go to his house. They went with him and were made welcome. The -daughter of the house, on being asked by the elder of the two brothers -for a drink, brought a a two-hooped wooden dish full of milk, set it -on the floor beside them and went away. One of the strangers rose to -lift the dish and he could not. Then three of them rose, but it defied -them to lift it. She came back, and finding the dish as she left it, -said, “If you have quenched your thirst it is not awanting from the -measure (_air a’ mheasair_)”. The cowhide one replied, “We have not -been accustomed to stoop like cattle (_cromadh mar bhà_) when we take a -drink, and we could not lift the dish.” At that she caught the wooden -dish by the ear, in her left hand, and held the drink to them all. -“Where have you come from,” she said, “or where are you going?” “We -came from the dark-blue sea-isle,” he said, “and are going to the hilly -isle (_do ’n eilean bheannach_).” “That is Mull,” she said, “Mull of my -love, Mull of little men (_Muile mo ghràidh, Muile nam fear beaga_).” -They passed that night cheerfully together, and went to put off to sea -next day; but when they tried to move the boat and get it afloat, they -might as well attempt to move the Rhinns of Islay (_an Roinn Ileach_) -they could not move it. The young wife who came with them from Islay -said then, “I know where we are; we are in the green isle that is under -spells (_fo gheasaibh_), but I have a gift that will let us leave it,” -and she told those with her how her mother had at parting given her a -cap, saying, “If you are ever in a strait, put it on, and you must at -the same time bend your head to the ground as low as your feet seven -times (_seachd uairean do shròn a bhualadh ri òrdaig do choise_).” -She had the cap in her belt (_’n a cneas_), and she told them to sit -in the boat and take the oars. She then stood in their midst, touched -the cap, bent her head, and it went up to her breast (_an cneas_); the -next time it went up to her neck (_am muineal_); the third time, to -her chin, (_an smigead_); then, as she bent her head, at the fourth -time, it went up past her mouth to her nose; the next time, it reached -her eyes, then her forehead, at last the top of her head, and the boat -was off. The mist was still there. They asked the eldest brother in -which direction they were to set their course. He told them to follow -the flight of birds, as they went shorewards in the evening and would -guide them to land. There is a saying about the home-coming of birds -and fish, that “Birds of the universe go westward, and fish of the deep -eastward (_Eòin an domhain, siar, ’s iasg an domhain, sear_).” During -the night, the younger brother, the one of skins, called out that there -was a mound before them (_gu ’n robh tòrr rompa_). His brother who -was in the afterpart of the boat said, “Is it a tòrr without grass,” -and it has got the name of Torrens to the present day (_’se na tòrrain -a theirear riu gus an là ’n diugh_). They reached Mull shore when it -was day, and they ran-in the boat at a narrow strait that was like an -opening in a dyke (_cachaileith ghàraidh_), and before they got them -from the tholepins, the oars were broken. The place is still known as -the narrow strait of broken oars (_Caolas-a’-bhristidh-ràmh_). They -got on shore, and went home and told where they had been and what had -happened to them. - -The person, now above 70 years of age, from whom the above story was -taken down almost word for word by the writer, said that he heard the -story when he was a young man, and that the following story (that of -the two sisters), was a continuation of it; the incidents of the story -occurred during the absence of the two brothers from the place, and -were told to them by the natives, in return for the story of their -own adventures. The name Torquil, which occurs in this story, and the -belief in witchcraft and occult power indicated, suggests that the -colony in Mull came originally from Lochlin, or that the story belongs -to a later period of history than that that of “The two brothers.” The -story is as follows:-- - - - - -THE TWO SISTERS AND THE CURSE. - - -Two sisters were living in the same township on the south side of -Mull. One of them who was known as Lovely _Mairearad_[24] had a fairy -sweetheart, who came where she was, unknown to anyone, until one -day she confided the secret to her sister, who was called Ailsa[25] -(_Ealasaid_), and told her how she dearly loved her fairy sweetheart. -“And now, sister,” she said, “you will not tell any one.” “No,” her -sister answered, “I will not tell any one; that story will as soon -pass from my lips as it will from my knee (_o’m ghlùn_)”; but she did -not keep her promise; she told the secret of the fairy sweetheart to -others, and when he came again, he found that he was observed, and he -went away and never returned, nor was he seen or heard of ever after -by any one in the place. When the lovely sister came to know this, she -left her home and became a wanderer among the hills and hollows, and -never afterwards came inside of a house door, to stand or sit down, -while she lived. Those who herded cattle (_ag uallach threud_) tried -frequently to get near her and persuade her to return home, but they -never succeeded further than to hear her crooning a melancholy song -in which she told how her sister had been false to her, and that the -wrong done to her would be avenged on the sister or her descendants, if -a fairy (_neach sìth_) has power. On hearing that Ailsa was married, -she repeated, “Dun Ailsa is married and has a son Torquil, and the -evil will be avenged on her or on him (_phòs, phòs Ealasaid Odhar,[26] -&c._).” What she hummed in her mournful song was:-- - - My mother’s place is deserted, empty and cold, - My father, who loved me, is asleep in the tomb, - Friendless and solitary I wander through the fields, - Since there is none in the world of my kindred - But a sister without pity. - She asked, and I told, out of the fulness of my joy; - There was none nearer of kin to know my secret; - But I felt, and this brought the tears to my eyes, - (_lit._, raindrip on my sight), - That a story comes sooner from the lip than from the knee. - -She was then heard to utter these wishes-- - - May nothing on which you have set your expectations ever grow, - Nor dew ever fall on your ground. - May no smoke rise from your dwelling, - In the depth of the hardest winter,[27] - May the worm be in your store, - And the moth under the lid of your chests. - If a fay-being has power, - Revenge will be taken though it may be on your descendants. - - Tha suidheag mo mhàthar gu fàs, falamh, fuar, - Tha m’ athair ’thug luaidh dhomh ’n a shuain fo ’n lic. - Gun daoine gun duine na raoin tha mi ’siubhal, - ’S gun ’s an t-saoghal do ’m chuideachd - Ach piuthar gun iochd. - Dh’ iarr ise ’s thug mise do mheud mo thoil-inntinn; - ’S mi gun neach ’bu disle g’ an innsinn mo rùn; - Ach dh’ fhairich mi sid ’s thug e snidh’ air mo léirsinn - Gur luaithe ’thig sgeul o ’n bheul na o ’n ghlùn. - -An sin thuirt i na guidheachan so:-- - - “Na-na-chinn ’s na-na-chuir thu t-ùidh, - ’S na-na-shil an driùchd ad shlios, - ’S na-na-rug ad bhothan smùid - Ann an dùlachd crùth an crios; - Gu ’n robh a’ chnuimheag ann ad stòr - ’S an leòmann fo bhòrd do chist’; - Ma tha cumhachd aig neach sìth, - Dìolar ge b’ ann air do shliochd.” - -Ailsa (_Ealasaid_) married, and had one son. In some way her afflicted -sister heard of this, and she then added to her song-- - - Dun Ailsa has married, - And she has a son Torquil. - Brown-haired Torquil who can climb the headland - And bring the seal off the waves, - The sickle in your hand is sharp, - You will in two swaths reap a sheaf. - - Phòs, phòs Ealasaid Odhar, - ’S tha mac aice--Torcuil. - Torcuil donn ’dhìreadh sròin, - ’S a bheireadh ròn bhàrr nan stuadh, - Bu sgaiteach do chorran ’n ad dhòrn - ’S dheanadh tu dhà dhlòth an sguab. - -Whatever gifts the brown-haired only child of her sister was favoured -with, besides others, he was a noted reaper, but this gift proved fatal -to him (_dh’ fhòghainn e dha_). When he grew up to manhood, he could -reap as much as seven men, and none among them could compete with him. -He was then told that a strange woman was seen coming to the harvest -fields in autumn, after the reapers had left, and that she would reap a -field before daylight next morning, or any part of the ripe corn that -the reapers could not finish that day, and in whatever field she began, -she left the work of seven reapers, finished, after her. She was known -as the Maiden of the Cairn (_Gruagach[28] a’ chùirn_), from being seen -to come out of a cairn over opposite. One evening then, brown-haired -Torquil, who desired to see her at work, being later than usual of -returning home, on looking back saw her beginning in his own field. -He returned, and finding his sickle where he had put it away, he took -it with him, and after her he went. He resolved to overtake her and -began to reap the next furrow, saying, “You are a good reaper or I will -overtake you;” but the harder he worked, the more he saw that instead -of getting nearer to her, she was drawing further away from him, and he -then called out to her, - -“Maiden of the cairn, wait for me, wait for me.” (_’Ghruagach a’ -chùirn, fuirich rium, fuirich rium._) - -She said, answering him, - -“Handsome brown-haired youth, overtake me, overtake me.” (_’Fhleasgaich -a’ chuil-duinn, beir orm, beir orm._) - -He was confident that he would overtake her, and went on after her till -the moon was darkened by a cloud; he then called to her, - -“The moon is clouded (_lit._ smothered by a cloud), delay, delay.” -(_Tha ’ghealach air a mùchadh fo neòil, fuirich rium, fuirich rium._) - -“I have no other light but her, overtake me, overtake me,” she said. - -He did not, nor could he, overtake her, and on seeing again how far she -was in advance of him, he said, “I am weary with yesterday’s reaping, -wait for me, wait for me.” She answered, “I ascended the round hill -of steep summits (_màm cas nan leac_), overtake me, overtake me;” but -he could not. He then said, “My sickle would be the better of being -sharpened (_air a bhleath_), wait for me, wait for me.” She answered, -“My sickle will not cut garlic, overtake me, overtake me.” At this she -reached the head of the furrow, finished reaping, and stood still where -she was, waiting for him. When he reached the head of his own furrow, -he caught the last handful of corn,[29] to keep it, as was the custom, -it being the “Harvest Maiden” (_a’ mhaighdean-bhuana_), and stood with -it in one hand and the sickle in the other. Looking at her steadily in -the face, he said, - -“You have put the old woman far from me, and it is not my displeasure -you deserve.” (_Chuir thu a’ chailleach fada uam ’s cha b’ e mo ghruaim -a thoill thu._)[30] - -She said, - -“It is an evil thing early on Monday to reap the harvest maiden.” -(_’S dona ’n ni_ (var., _mì-shealbhach_) _moch Di-luain dol a bhuain -maighdein._) - -On her saying this, he fell dead on the field and never more drew -breath. The Maiden of the Cairn was never afterwards seen, nor heard -of; and that was how the sister’s wishes ended. - - - NOTES: - -[23] Boats made of twigs and covered with hides, the hairy side of the -skin being uppermost, could go long distances over rough seas. - -[24] This name is sometimes rendered in English, Margaret. Erraid Isle -(_Eilean earraid_) is in the Sound of Iona, south of Mull. - -[25] The rock of Ailsa in the firth of Clyde is called in Gaelic _Creag -Ealasaid_, and _Ealasaid a’ chuain_ (Ailsa of the sea). A round grey -rock lying near the shore in Mannal, south side of Tiree, is called -_Sgeir Ealasaid_, the Ailsa rock. The name _Ealasaid_ is in English -also Elizabeth and Elspeth. - -[26] _Odhar_, dun or grey, is applied to cattle; as, _bò mhaol odhar_, -a dun hornless cow; _gabhar mhaol odhar_, a grey goat: it is sometimes -used as an expression of contempt, as _creutair odhar_, a dun -creature. The diminutive of _odhar_, _odhrag_, is a pet name for a cow. - -[27] The words of the first four lines of “the wishes,” are, as regards -their form in the Gaelic text, almost unintelligible; they merely -represent the sounds uttered by the reciter, without being correct -either in form or composition. The sounds belonging to the first line -might, for instance, have been represented thus:--_’Na ana-chìnnt ’s ’n -a an-shocair dhuit d’ ùidh_: perhaps the utterance was intentionally -ambiguous.--(Ed.) - -[28] _Gruagach_, the supernatural being, in this instance was said -to be a woman; but _gruagach_ usually meant a chief. (See Vol. IV., -Argyllshire series, p. 193.) - -[29] There was a custom at one time, that the last handful of corn that -was cut, and which finished the harvest, was taken home by the reaper, -who was usually the youngest person in the family who could reap. The -bunch was tastefully decorated and kept, at least till the following -year, as the harvest maiden. - -[30] It was also a custom in other times for old women to go about -asking charity, and if infirm, they were carried about from house to -house and villages, and whoever was last in a township to finish the -reaping of his corn had to maintain one that year, and the same thing -might happen to him the next year. When the run-rig system was common, -the last furrow of corn was sometimes left standing as no one could be -got to own it, through fear of having to keep the old woman for a year. - - - - -THE DARK, OR PITCH-PINE, DAUGHTER OF THE NORSE KING, - -AND HOW SHE THINNED THE WOODS OF LOCHABER. - - -When the Norsemen came, and their visits were frequent and numerous, -to this country and these islands, to lay claim to and take possession -of the land, the fame they gathered for themselves through their -indulgence in every manner of cruel spoliation, and slaughter of the -people wherever they landed, was that they were a bold, courageous, -hardy, rough (“The Norsemen a rough band”), peremptory and unscrupulous -race, and more than that, it was attributed to them that they practised -witchcraft, charms, and enchantments, and had much of other unhallowed -learning among them. The Norse King’s eldest daughter was particularly -noted for her knowledge of the “Black Art.” There was no accident or -mischance that befell friends, or destruction that overtook enemies, -or any luck or good fortune that attended either friend or foe, but -it was said that she was the cause of it, or had some hand in it. She -was famed at home and abroad, far and wide, for her skill among cows -and cattle, she was said to possess every variety of dairy knowledge -in her father’s kingdom. There was no charm or evil eye that fell on -any living creature in the fold but she could dispel and avert, nor -hurt nor injury they got but she could heal, nor dizziness nor fits -into which they fell, from which she could not restore them, until -it was said of her that the lowing of cattle, the incoherent cry of -calves, and the rough cry of yearlings was to her the sweetest and most -soothing music, and that she would answer the call of cattle, though -she might be lost in the midst of the northern woods, and the cry from -the nethermost part of the farthest off quarter of the universe. She -knew the herb that had the property of taking its qualities from milk, -as well as she was acquainted with the spells by which its virtues -could be restored, and every charm and invocation that was practised or -then esteemed. The flowers of the meadows and woods were as familiar to -her as the ridges of corn or a grain on straw, and there was not a leaf -on tree, bush, or shrub, with whose properties she was not acquainted. -Her father’s kingdom was clothed with pine wood, and was then as now -famous for the fine quality of the wood from which most of the wealth -of the kingdom was obtained. - -One of those times when the Norsemen came to Scotland to take -possession of and sub-divide the land thus taken, they observed that -the pine wood of Lochaber was growing so fast, and extending so far, -that in time it might supersede the Black Forests of Sweden. But on -this occasion the northern forces were driven back. On reaching home -they reported the matter to the king, and their opinion, that the -increase of the wood must be checked, otherwise his northern woods -would be of little esteem. - -It occurred to the King to consult his daughter on the matter, since -she was learned, and to get knowledge from her of the best method of -thinning and destroying the Scottish wood. She gave him the desired -information, but said that she must be the bearer of the method and -must necessarily go to Scotland herself. She obtained the King’s -permission and made preparations for the journey. - -From the gifts she possessed, neither sea nor land, air nor earth -could hinder her progress until she accomplished her purpose. When she -reached Lochaber the method she adopted was to kindle a fire in the -selvage of her dress, and she then began to go through the woods, and -as she could travel in the clouds as well as on the ground, when she -ascended and whirled in the air, the sparks of fire that flew from her -dress were blown hither and thither by the wind and set the woods on -fire, until the whole country was almost in a blaze, and so darkened -by the smoke, that one could hardly see before them; and, from being -blackened more than any tree in the forest, by the smoke and soot of -the fiery furnace which surrounded her, she was known and spoken of by -the name of “Dark, or Pitch Pine.” The people gathered to watch her, -but from the rapidity of her ascent and the swiftness with which she -descended, they could not grasp her any more than they could prevent -her, and were at a loss what to do. At last, they sought instruction -from a learned man in the place. He advised them to collect a herd of -cattle in a fold, wherever she would stand still, and whenever she -heard the lowing of the cattle she would descend, and when she was -within gun-shot they were to fire at her with a silver bullet, when she -would become a faggot of bones. They followed this advice and began to -gather cattle and follow after her until the pinfold large and small -was full set in the “Centre of Kintail.” Whenever she heard the cry of -the herd she descended and they aimed at her with the silver bullet, -as the wise man told them to do, and she fell gently among them. Men -lifted the remains and carried them to Lochaber, and to make sure that -dead or alive she would do no more injury to them, they buried her in -Achnacarry; and the person from whom the story was first heard nine -years ago [1880] said that he could put his foot on the place where she -was buried. - -The Norse King was amazed at his daughter not returning, and at his -not receiving any account from her. He sent abroad to get tidings of -her. When the news of the disaster that happened to her was brought -to him, he sent a boat and crew to bring her home, but the Lochaber -women by their incantations destroyed those whom he sent. The boat was -wrecked, and the men lost, at the entrance to Locheil. The next ships -that came were not more successful. The third time the King sent out -his most powerful fleet. What they did then was to send and try through -spells to dry up the wells of the Fairy Hill of Iona. The virtue of -these wells was that wind could be obtained from any desired quarter by -emptying them in the direction of the wind wished for. When the ships -were seen approaching, the wells began to be emptied, and before the -last handful was flung out, the storm was so violent, and the ships -so near, that the whole fleet was driven on the beach under the Fairy -Hill, and the power and might of the Norsemen was broken and so much -weakened that they did not return again to infest the land. - - - - -AN DUBH GHIUBHSACH, NIGHEAN RIGH LOCHLAINN, - -AGUS MAR A CHRIONAICH I COILLE LOCHABAIR. - - -Mar thàinig na Lochlannaich an toiseach, ’s bu bhitheanta sin, air -feadh nan dùthchannan ’s nan eileinean so, a thogail chòraichean ’s a -ghabhail sealbh air fearann, ’s e an cliù a choisinn iad dhaibh féin, -leis gu ’n robh iad ris a h-uile seòrsa léir-chreach ’s milleadh air -muinntir nan àiteachan a bha iad a’ ruigheachd, gu ’n robh iad ’n an -daoine dalma, misneachail, cruaidh-chridheach, borb. “Lochlannaich, a’ -bhuidheann bhorb,” neo-easmaileach, neo-thròcaireach ’s a thuilleadh -air sin, bha e air chur as an leth gu ’n robh buidseachd agus -druidheachd ’s iomadh eòlas toirmisgte eile ’n am measg. - -Bha ’n nighean a bu sine aig Righ Lochlainn sònraichte ainmeil air -son na bh’ aice de ’n “Sgoil Dubh.” Cha robh sgiorradh no tubaist a -thachaireadh do chàirdean, no sgrios a thigeadh air naimhdean, no math -no rath a dh’ éireadh do h-aon diù, nach robh e air a ràdhainn gur i -b’ aobhar-cinn dha, no gu ’n robh làmh thaobh-eiginn aice ann. Bha i -aig an tigh ’s uaithe fada ’s farsuinn comharraichte air son sgil am -measg cruidh ’s feudail; ’s ann aice bha gach seòrsa eòlas cruidh ’an -rìoghachd a h-athar. Cha robh sian no sùil a laidheadh air creutair -beo ’s a’ bhuaile nach togadh i, no tuaineal no ceangal ’s an rachadh -iad nach fhuasgladh i, gus an abairteadh gur e geumnaich cruidh, -blaomannaich laogh agus ràcaireachd ghamhna an t-aon cheòl cadail a bu -bhinn leatha, ’s gu ’m freagradh i ’n uair a chluinneadh i ’n spréidh -ged bhiodh i ’n a suain an teis-meadhon coille dhubh a h-athar ’s an -geum o cheann ìochdar iomall an domhain. - -B’ aithne dh’ i an lus a bheireadh an toradh as a’ bhainne co math ’s -a b’ aithne dh’ i na h-eòlais a thilleadh air ais e, agus gach seòrsa -sian agus oradh a bha air a chleachdainn no air a chunntas feumail ’s -an àm. Bha gach luibh ’s a’ mhachair no ’s a’ choille co-ionnan dh’ -i ri arbhar nan imirean no spilgean cònlaich, ’s cha robh duilleag -air craoibh, no preas, no dris, nach b’ aithne dh’ i. ’S an àm so bha -dùthaich a h-athar còmhdaichte le coille ghiubhais, agus iomraideach -(mar tha fhathast) air son co math ’s a bha a fiodh, ’s bha neart de -bheartais na rìoghachd ’tighinn a stigh air a tailibh. - -Uair de na h-uairean sin thàinig na Lochlannaich do Albainn a thoirt -a mach fearainn ’s a dheanamh roinn na còrach air na gheibheadh iad, -’s thug iad fainear gu ’n robh coille ghiubhais Lochabair a’ fàs ’s -a’ gabhail roimpe co mòr ’s gu ’m faodtadh e ’bhi gu ’n cuireadh i -stad air coille dhubh na Suain. Chaidh feachd Lochlannach an uair so -thilleadh air ais an taobh a thàinig iad, ’s ’n uair a ràinig iad -dhachaidh dh’ innis iad do ’n righ mar bha iad ’am beachd a thachradh -’s gu ’m feumadh stad a chur air cinneas na coille Albanaich neo nach -bitheadh mòran meas air a’ chonnadh aige-san. ’S e smuaintich an -righ bho ’n a bha h-uile ionnsachadh aig a nighean gu ’n cuireadh e -’chomhairle rithe, ’s gu ’m faigheadh e fiosrachadh uaipe ’d e an dòigh -a b’ fhearr ’s a bu luaithe air a’ choille Albanaich a dheanamh na bu -lugha ’s a crìonadh. Dh’ innis i dha, ach gu ’m bitheadh aice fhéin ri -dol ann. Fhuair i cead o ’n Rìgh, ’s rinn i deas air son falbh; ’s leis -na cumhachdan a bh’ aice cha chuireadh muir no tìr, talamh no adhar, -stad air a ceum gus an ruigeadh i ceann thall a’ ghnothaich. - -’N uair a ràinig i Lochabair ’s e ’n dòigh a ghabh i, dh’ fhadaidh i -teine ’an iomall a gùin ’s ghabh i gu siubhal roimh ’n choille, ’s -leis gu robh comas aice falbh anns na neòil co math ’s air an talamh, -dhìreadh i suas agus ’n uair bha i ’dìreadh ’s a’ cur cuairteig anns an -adhar, bha na sradagan teine a bha ’falbh as a gùn a’ dol gach taobh -leis a’ ghaoith ’s a’ lasadh na coille gus an robh an dùthaich uile gu -bhi ’n a caoirean teintich ’s co dùinte le deathaich ’s gur gann a bu -léir do dhuine lias, ’s a chionn gu ’n robh i fhéin air fàs anns an -deathaich ’s anns an t-sùith na bu duibhe na craobh ’s a’ choille, ’s e -“An Dubh Ghiùbhsach” a theireadh iad rithe. - -Bha muinntir na dùthcha cruinn còmhla ’g a feitheamh ’s cha chumadh iad -sealladh oirre leis co àrd ’s a rachadh i anns na speuran ’s co luath -’s a thèarnadh i gu talamh. Cha b’ urrainn iad greim fhaighinn oirre -na bu mhotha na b’ urrainn iad stad a chur oirre, ’s cha robh fios aca -’d e a dhèanadh iad. Mu dheireadh chaidh iad air son fòghluim gu duine -ionnsaichte a bha ’s an dùthaich. Thuirt esan riu, buaile cruidh a -chruinneachadh far an stadadh i, ’s ’n uair a chluinneadh i ’n fheudail -’s a’ bhuar gu ’n tèarnadh i; ’s an uair a bhiodh i mar urchair gunna -uapa iad a losgadh oirre le peileir airgid, ’s gu ’n rachadh i ’n a -cual chnàmh. Ghabh iad a chomhairle ’s thòisich iad air togail chreach -’s air ise leantuinn gus an robh a’ bhuaile làn-suidhichte le crodh -ann an Crò-Chintàile. Co luath ’s a chuala ise a’ gheumnaich theirinn -i ’s loisg iad oirre leis a’ pheileir airgid mar dh’ iarr an duine -glic orra, ’s thuit i ’n a ceòsaich ’n am measg. Thog iad eadar dhaoine -am pronnan a bh’ aca dhi ’s thug iad leo do Lochabair i, ’s chum gu -’m bitheadh iad cinnteach nach dèanadh i cron beò no marbh dhoibh -tuilleadh, thìodhlaic iad i ann an Achanacairidh; ’s am fear bho ’n -deachaidh an naigheachd a chluinntinn an toiseach--anns a’ bhliadhna -1880--bha e ’g ràdhainn gu ’m b’ urrainn dha a chas a chur air an uaigh -anns an do chuireadh i. - -Bha ioghnadh air Righ Lochlainn nach robh a nighean a’ tilleadh no -sgeul uaipe. Chuir e forfhais a mach, ’s trà chualaic e mar thachair -dhi, chuir e bàta ’s sgioba air son a toirt dachaidh, ach dh’ fhoghain -mnathan Lochabair le ’n ubagan dh’ i. Chaidh a briste ’s na daoine -chall, aig bun Lochiall. Cha d’ ràinig an ath chabhlach na bu mhò. ’S -an treasa uair trà chuir an Righ mach feachd na rioghachd ’s e rinn -iadsan, chuir iad eòlas a thaomadh tobraichean Dhun-I, ’s bha e ’n cois -an eòlais, rathad ’s am bith a rachadh na tobraichean a thaomadh gu ’m -faighteadh a’ ghaoth a dh’ iarrtadh. ’N uair fhuaradh sealladh air a’ -chabhlach, thòisichear air taomadh an tobair, ’s mu ’n robh a’ bhoiseag -mu dheireadh as, bha a’ ghaoth co làidir ’s a’ chabhlach co dlùth ’s gu -’n do bhrisdeadh iad air cladach an Dùin, ’s chaidh cumhachd ’s feachd -nan Lochlannach lughdachadh co mòr ’s nach do thill iad riamh tuilleadh -a dheanamh dòlais no a thoirt sgrios air an tìr. - - - - -O’NEIL, - -AND HOW THE HAIR OF HIS HEAD WAS MADE TO GROW. - - -There was a smith, before now, in Ireland, who was one day working in -the smithy, when a youth came in, having two old women with him. - -He said to the smith, - -“I would be obliged to you,” he said, “if you would let me have a while -at the bellows and anvil.” - -The smith said he would. He then caught the two old women, threw a hoop -about their middle, and placed them in the smithy fire, and blew the -bellows at them, and then took them out and made one woman, the fairest -that eye ever saw, from the two old women. - -When the smith laid down at night, he said to his wife, - -“A man came the way of the smithy to-day, having with him two old -women; he asked from me a while of the bellows and anvil, and he made -the fairest woman that man’s eye ever saw, out of the two old women. My -own mother and your mother are here with us, and I think I will try to -make one right woman of the two since I saw the other man doing it.” - -“Do,” she said, “I am quite willing.” - -Next day he took out the two old women, put the hoop about their -middle, and threw them in the smithy fire. It was not long before it -became likely that he would not have even the bones of them left. The -smith was in extremity, not knowing what to do, but a voice came behind -him, - -“You are perplexed, smith, but perhaps I will put you right.” With that -he caught the bellows and blew harder at them; he then took them out -and put them on the anvil, and made as fair a woman out of the two old -wives. Then he said to the smith, - -“You had need of me to-day, but,” said he, “you better engage me; I -will not ask from you but the half of what I earn, and that this will -be in the agreement, that I shall have the third of my own will.” The -smith engaged him. - -At this time O’Neil sent abroad word that he wanted one who would make -the hair of his head to grow, for there was none on the head of O’Neil -or O’Donnell, his brother, and that whoever could do it, would get the -fourth part of his means. The servant lad said to the smith, - -“We had better go and make a bargain with O’Neil that we will put hair -on his head,” and they did this. “Say you to him,” said the servant -lad, “that you have a servant who will put hair on his head for the -fourth part of what he possesses.” - -O’Neil was agreeable to this, and the servant lad desired to get a room -for themselves, and asked a cauldron to be put on a good fire. It was -done as he wished. O’Neil was taken in and stretched on a table. The -servant lad then took hold of the axe, threw off O’Neil’s head, and put -it face foremost in the cauldron. After some time he took hold of a -large prong which he had, and he lifted up the head with it, and hair -was beginning to come upon it. In a while he lifted it up again with -the same prong, this time a ply of the fine yellow hair would go round -his hand. Then he gave the head such a lift, and stuck it on the body. -O’Neil then called out to him to make haste and let him rise to his -feet, when he saw the fine yellow hair coming in into his eyes. He did -as he had promised; he gave the smith and the servant lad the fourth -part of his possessions. When they were going home with the cattle the -servant lad said to the smith, - -“We are now going to separate, we will make two halves or divisions of -the cattle.” - -The smith was not willing to agree to this, but since it was in his -bargain he got the one half. They then parted, and the animal the smith -would not lose now, he would lose again, he did not know where he was -going before he reached home, and he had only one old cow that he did -not lose of the cattle. - -When O’Donnell saw his brother’s hair, he sent out word that he would -give the third part of his property to any one who would do the same -to himself. The smith thought he would try to do it this time alone. -He went where O’Donnell was, and said to him that he would put hair on -his head for him also, as he had done to his brother O’Neil. Then he -asked that the cauldron be put on, and a good fire below it, and he -took O’Donnell into a room, tied him on a table, then took up an axe, -cut off his head, and threw it, face downwards, into the cauldron. In -a while he took the prong to see if the hair was growing, but instead -of the hair growing, the jaws were nearly falling out. The smith was -almost out of his senses, not knowing what to do, when he heard a voice -behind him saying to him, “You are in a strait.” This was the lad with -the Black Art, he formerly had, returned. He blew at the cauldron -stronger, brought the prong to see how the head was doing, or if the -hair was growing on it. The next time he tried it, it would twine round -his hand. Since it was so long of growing on it, he said, “We will put -an additional fold round my hand.” When he tried it again it would -reach two twists. He took it out of the cauldron and stuck it on the -body. It cried to be quickly let go, when he saw his yellow hair down -on his shoulders. The hair pleased him greatly; it was more abundant -than that of O’Neil, his brother. They got fully what was promised -them, and were going on their way home. The lad who had the Black Art -said, “Had we not better divide the cattle?” - -“We will not, we will not,” said the smith, “lift them with you, since -I got clear.” - -“Well,” said the other, “if you had said that before, you would not -have gone home empty-handed, or with only one cow,” and with that he -said, “You will take every one of them: I will take none of them.” - -The smith went home with that herd, and he did not require to strike -a blow in his smithy, neither did he meet with the one with the Black -Art, ever after. - - - - -O’ NEIL, ’S MAR A CHAIDH AM FALT AIR A CHEANN. - - -Gobhainn bh’ ann roimhe so ann an Eirinn, ’s bha e latha de na -làithean ag obair anns a’ cheàrdaich agus thàinig òganach stigh ’s dà -sheana-bhoirionnach aige. Thuirt e ris a’ ghobhainn, “Bhithinn ann -ad ehomain,” ars’ esan, “na ’n toireadh tu dhomh tacan de ’n bholg -’s de ’n innean.” Thuirt an gobhainn ris gu ’n tugadh. Rug e an sin -air an dà chaillich, chaith e cearcall mu ’m meadhon, ’s chàirich e -’s an teallach iad, ’s shéid e am bolg riu; thug e ’n sin mach iad ’s -rinn e aon bhoirionnach a bu bhreadha ’s a chunnaic sùil duine de ’n -dà chaillich. ’N uair a luidh an gobhainn ’s an oidhche, thuirt e ris -a mhnaoi, “Thàinig fear rathad na ceàrdaich an diugh ’s dà chaillich -aige, ’s dh’ iarr e orm treis de ’n bholg ’s de ’n innean, ’s rinn e -’m boirionnach a bu bhriadha a chunnaic sùil duine riamh air an dà -chaillich. Tha mo mhàthair fhéin ’s do mhàthair fhéin againn ann an so, -’s tha mi ’smaointeachadh gu ’m feuch mi ri aon bhoirionnach ceart a -dheanamh orra bho ’n a chunnaic mi am fear eile ’g a dheanamh.” - -“Dean,” ars’ ise, “tha mi làn-toileach.” - -Am màireach thug e mach an dà chaillich ’s chuir e ’n cearcall mu ’m -meadhon, ’s thilg e ’s an teallach iad. Cha b’ fhada ach gus an robh -coltach nach bitheadh na cnàimhean fhéin aige dhiùbh. Bha an gobhainn -’n a chàs gun fhios aige ’dé dheanadh e, ach thàinig guth air a -chùlthaobh, “Tha thu ann ad éiginn, a ghobhainn, ach ma dh’ fhaoidte -gu ’n cuir mise ceart thu.” Rug e air a’ bholg ’s théid e na ’s teinne -riu; thug e mach iad a sin ’s chuir e air an innean iad, ’s rinn e -boirionnach a bu bhriadha de ’n dà chaillich. Thuirt e sin ris a’ -ghobhainn, “Bha feum agad ormsa an diugh, ach,” ars’ esan, “’s ann a ’s -fearr dhuit mise fhasdadh, ’s cha ’n iarr mi ort ach darna leth de na -bheir mi a mach; ach gu ’m bi so anns a’ chùmhnant, gu ’m bi an treas -trian de m’ thoil fhéin agam.” Dh’ fhasdaidh an gobhainn e. - -Aig an àm sin chuir O’ Neil mach fios na ’m faigheadh e fear a -chuireadh falt air, chionn cha robh falt idir air O’ Neil na air O’ -Domhnull a bhràthair, gu ’n toireadh e dhoibh a’ cheathramh chuid d’ a -mhaoin; ’s thuirt an gille ris a’ ghobhainn, “’S fhearr dhuinne falbh -’s bargan a dheanamh ri O’ Neil gu ’n cuir sinn falt air;” ’s rinn iad -mar sin. “Abair thusa ris,” thuirt an gille ris a’ ghobhainn, “gu bheil -gille agadsa a chuireas falt air, air son a’ cheathramh chuid d’ a -mhaoin.” - -Bha O’ Neil deònach air a shon so, agus dh’ iarr an gille seòmar -fhaotainn dhoibh fhéin, ’s dh’ iarr e coire a chur air, ’s teine math -ris. Rinneadh mar a dh’ iarr e, ’s chaidh O’ Neil a thoirt stigh, ’s -chuir e ’n a shìneadh air bòrd e, ’s rug e air an tuaidh ’s thilg e -dheth an ceann, ’s chuir e ’n comhair na goille anns a’ choire e. ’An -ceann tacain rug e air gramaiche mòr a bh’ aige ’s thog e suas an ceann -leis, ’s bha toiseach fuilt a’ tighinn air. Ann an ceann treis thog e -suas a rithist e leis a’ ghramaiche cheudna, agus an uair so ruigeadh -car m’ a dhòrn de ’n fhalt bhriadha bhuidhe. Thug e sin an togail ud -air, ’s bhuail e air a’ choluinn e. Ghlaodh sin O’ Neil greasad air -’s a leigeil air a chois, ’n uair a chunnaic e ’m falt briadha buidhe -a’ tighinn ’n a shùilean. Rinn e riu mar a gheall e; fhuair iad a -cheathramh chuid d’ a mhaoin. - -’N uair bha iad so ’dol dachaidh’s an spréidh aca, thuirt an gille ris -a’ ghobhainn, “Tha mi nis ’dol a dhealachadh ribh, ’s nì sinn dà leth -air an spréidh.” Cha robh an gobhainn toileach air so a thoirt dha, ach -bho ’n a bha e ’n a chùmhnant fhuair e ’n darna leth. Dhealaich iad -so, agus am beothach nach cailleadh an gobhainn an dràsd’ shiubhladh e -rithist, ’s cha robh fhios aige c’ àite an robh e a’ dol, ’s mu ’n d’ -ràinig e ’n tigh cha robh aige ach seann mhart nach do chaill e de ’n -spréidh. - -’N uair a chunnaic O’ Domhnull am falt a bh’ air a bhràthair, chuir e -mach fios gu ’n toireadh e ’n treas cuid d’ a mhaoin seachad do aon ’s -am bith a chuireadh air fhéin e. Smaointich an gobhainn gu ’m feuchadh -e-fhéin g’ a dheanamh an dràsda gun duine ach e-fhéin. Chaidh e far -an robh O’Domhnull ’s thuirt e ris gu ’n cuireadh e air-san e mar an -ceudna, ’s gur e a chuir air a bhràthair, O’Neil, e, ’s dh’ iarr e ’n -coire ’chur air ’s teine math ris. Thug e O’ Domhnull stigh do sheòmar -’s cheangail e air bòrd e, ’s rug e air an tuaidh, ’s thug e dheth an -ceann ’s thilg e ’an comhair na goille e anns a’ choire. ’An ceann -treis rug e air a’ ghramaiche dh’ fheuchainn an robh falt a’ cinntinn, -ach ’an àite falt a bhi ’cinntinn ’s ann a bha na giallan ’tuiteam as. -Bha an gobhainn ’an impis dol as a chiall, gun fhios aige ’dé dheanadh -e, ’n uair a chualaig e guth air a chùlthaobh ag ràdhainn ris, “Tha thu -ann ad éiginn.” Bha so gille na sgoil-duibhe, a bh’ aige fhéin roimhe, -air tilleadh. Shéid e ris a’ choire na bu teodha, ’s thug e sin nuas -leis an gramaiche a shealltainn ciamar a bha an ceann a’ deanamh, ’s -bha am falt a’ cinntinn. An ath-uair a dh’ fheuch e e, ruigeadh car -mu ’dhòrn dheth. “Bho ’n a bha e co fada gun chinntinn,” ars’ esan, -“cuiridh sinn car a bharrachd mu ’m dhòrn;” ’s ’n uair a dh’ fheuch -e rithist e, ruigeadh e ’n dà char. Thog e as a’ choire e, ’s bhuail -e air a’ choluinn e; ’s ghlaodh e ’ghrad-fhuasgladh, ’s e ’faicinn -’fhalt buidhe sìos air a ghualainn. Chòrd am falt ris fior mhaith, bha -barrachd fuilt air ’s a bh’ air O’ Neil a bhràthair. Fhuair iadsan -’cheart ni a chaidh ghealltainn doibh, ’s bha iad ’dol dachaidh air an -rathad. Thuirt gille na sgoil-duibhe, “Nach fheàrr dhuinn ar treud a -roinn?” “Cha roinn, cha roinn,” ars’ an gobhainn, “tog leat iad, bho -’n a fhuair mise saor.” “Ma tà,” ars’ esan, “na ’n dubhairt thu sin -roimhe cha deachaidh thu dhachaidh falamh no air aon mhart; agus leis a -sin,” ars’ esan, “bheir thu leat h-uile h-aon diùbh, cha ghabh mise gin -diùbh.” - -Chaidh an gobhainn dachaidh leis an spréidh sin, ’s cha do ruig e leas -buille a bhualadh ’an ceàrdaich tuille, ni mò a thachair e-fhéin air -fear na sgoil-duibhe tuille. - - - - -BEAST FABLES. - - - - -THE WOLF AND THE FOX. - - -This story, like many others in which the lower animals figure as -characters, is very popular in the Highlands, in fact, Mr. Campbell -of Islay, by whom it is mentioned, could not help falling in with it. -But the version published by him is destitute of several interesting -incidents which form a part of the story. The narration depends always -upon the knowledge and skill of the person who tells it, and this -edition is given because there is to be found in it incidents of much -interest and amusement, not to be found in any other version, such as -the Fox’s oath and standing in front of the fire. The Gaelic is not -given except in the essential expressions, and it is not deemed of much -consequence to give more, as their fluency and number depend upon the -reciter’s knowledge and tact. In these fables the lower animals appear -with the same characteristics as are always assigned to them, and in -this tale the fox appears as not only wily and cunning, but also as the -most unprincipled scoundrel, indifferent to the interests of others, -and also to what is usually of weight with men, the restraint of an -unseen power. - -The Fox and Wolf were keeping house together near the shore, and as -might naturally be expected, were very poor and at times hard up for -food. At first the fox kept himself in good condition, and was not so -voracious as the wolf. After a heavy storm in winter time the two went -along the shore to see what the sea had cast up. This is still done by -poor people in the islands, and in those places where wood does not -grow. They are often fortunate enough to find logs and planks of wood. -On the occasion of the wolf and the fox’s journey they were fortunate -enough to find a keg of butter. Probably it had come from Ireland -and been swept or thrown overboard in the storm. It was particularly -welcome to the poor finders, and the rascally fox at once coveted it -for himself. He said to the wolf that, as this was the winter time, -they had not so much need of it, but when the hungry summer (_samhradh -gortach_) would come, it would be doubly welcome; they had better bury -it, and no one would know of its existence but themselves. They dug a -deep hole, buried the keg of butter, and went home with their other -provisions. Some days after that the fox came in, and wearily throwing -himself on a settle, or seat, which formed part of the furniture, he -heaved a deep sigh and said, “Alas! Alas! Woe is me (_Och! Och! fhéin -thall_).” - -“Alas! Alas!” said the sympathising wolf, “what is it that troubles -you?” - -“Dear me,” said the fox, “they are wanting me out to a christening -(_Och! Och! tha iad ’gam iarraidh mach gu goisteachd_),” still -pretending a weary indifference, and the Gaelic expression is here -noticeable, as, being asked out to a baptism means literally being -asked to be god-father, or gossip at the baptism, a practise observed -in the Highlands, even where the Roman Catholic and Episcopal systems -have disappeared. - -“Alas! Alas!” said the wolf, “are you going?” - -“Alas! Alas!” said the fox, “I am.” When he came home, the wolf asked -what name they had given the child. “A queer enough name,” said the -fox, “_Blaiseam_,” (let me taste). - -Some days after that again the same manœuvre was gone through, and when -the fox returned and the wolf asked him the child’s name, he said it -was as queer a name as the former one,--“_Bi ’na mheadhon_,” (be in its -middle). A third time the manœuvre was gone through and the child’s -name was said to be the queerest of all, “_Sgrìob an clàr_,” (scrape -the stave). - -At last the “hungry summer” came; and it was such as is well known -even in eastern countries when the stores of the preceding harvest are -exhausted, and the stores of the year’s harvest are not yet ready. The -fox and the wolf went for the keg of butter, but it had disappeared. -The fox being prepared for this emergency began at once to accuse the -wolf of having taken it, “No one knew it was there but our two selves, -and I see the colour of it on your fur.” - -The two went away home, the wolf very much cast down, and the fox -persisting in his accusation that the wolf had stolen it. The wolf -solemnly protested that he had never touched it. - -“Will you swear then?” the fox said. - -According to a Highland proverb, protestations may be loud till they -are solemn oaths (_’S mòr facal gu lùghadh_). The wolf then held up its -paw, and with great solemnity emitted this oath, “If it be that I stole -the butter, and it be, and it be, may disease lie heavy on my grey -belly in the dust, in the dust,” (_Ma ’s mise ghoid an t-ìm, ’s gur mi, -’s gur mi, Galar trom-ghlas air mo bhronnghlas anns an ùir, anns an -ùir_). - -“Swear now yourself,” but the fox was so impressed by the dignity and -reverence of the oath, that he tried every means in his power to evade -so solemn an ordeal; but the wolf would take no refusal, and at last -the fox emitted this oath, “If it be I that stole the butter, and it -be, and it be, Whirm, Wheeckam, Whirram, Whycam Whirrim Whew, Whirrim -Whew,” (_Ma’s mise ’ghoid an t-ìm ’s gur a mi, ’s gur a mi, ciream, -cìceam ciream cuaigeam, ciream ciu, ciream ciu_). The student of -language will observe how the Gaelic C corresponds to the English Wh. -This is particularly noticeable here as the difference renders the oath -as ludicrous in the translation as in the original, if not more so. -The wolf said nothing, but the fox, with that persistence which often -accompanies evil-doing, suggested that they should both stand in front -of the fire and whoever began to sweat first would be the guilty party, -as the butter would be oozing out through him. The wolf thinking no -evil, consented, and the fox thought he would get him to stand nearer -to the fire than himself. It so turned out however, that the fox, who -had kept himself in good condition by repeated visits to the keg of -butter, (and they must have been more frequent than the baptisms to -which he said he had been called), was getting uncomfortably warm, and -said, “We are long enough at this work, we had better go out and take a -walk.” When out thus cooling themselves, they passed a smithy door, at -which an old white horse was standing with the point of its hind shoe -resting on the ground. The wolf having gone over to it, but at a safe -distance, and looking intently at the door, said to the fox, “I wish, -as your eyesight is better than mine and you can read better than I -can, that you would come over and read the name written on the horse -shoe.” - -The fox came over but could see no writing on the shoe, but flattered -by the wolf’s words, and not liking to confess that his eyesight was -failing, it went closer and the horse lifting its foot knocked its -brains out. - -“I see,” said the wolf, “the greatest scholars are not always -the wisest clerks,” (_Cha ’n i an ro-sgoilearachd a ’s -fhearr.--Lit._--Excessive scholarship is not always the best). - -[Illustration: THE FOX AND THE WOLF.] - - - - -THE FOX AND THE BIRD. - - -In the foregoing the fox appears true to his character as an -unscrupulous, grasping, wily wretch, and in the following he appears as -over reached by a bird. Considering the character the fox bears, one is -glad when he is paid back in his own coin. The bird in the tale is by -some rendered Kestrel Hawk, and by others Hen Harrier. The story was -heard in Tiree, in which are no trees on which the bird could sit, and -no hawks or foxes to make the story applicable. The lesson which the -fable implies is one that is useful everywhere. - -A _Deargan-allt, Eun Fionn_, was dosing by a river side, when a Fox -came and caught it, and was going to devour it. “Oh don’t, don’t,” said -the bird, “and I will lay an egg as big as your head.” - -He protested this so loudly, and so solemnly, that the fox loosened -his hold till the bird at last flew up into a tree. Here sitting on a -branch, and safe from further injury, it said to the fox, “I will not -lay an egg as big as your head, for I cannot do it, but I will give -you three pieces of advice, and if you will observe them, they will do -you more good in the future. One, first, “Never believe an unlikely -story from unreliable authority (_Na creid naigheachd mi-choltach fo -urrainn mi-dhealbhach_). Secondly, “Never make a great fuss about a -small matter (_Na dean dearmail mhòr mu rud beag_), and thirdly”--here -the bird seemed to take time, and the fox having his curiosity now -excited listened, though it was with firmly clasped teeth and pangs of -hunger--“Whatever you get a hold of, take a firm hold of it” (_Rud air -an dean thu greim, dean greim gu ro-mhath air_), saying this, the bird -flew away, and the fox, thus neatly sold, was left lamenting. - - - - -THE WREN. - - -In the Fables relating to animals the fox readily takes a lead, and is -characterised as an unscrupulous and unprincipled rascal. Next to him -the wren, which is the smallest (or at least has the name of being so) -of British birds figures, and has got the name not only of being small, -but also of being forward and pert. The first or most prominent of -these fables is that in which the wren appears as contesting with the -eagle the supremacy among birds, and this story may be said to be as -widely extended over the Highlands as the birds themselves. There was -to be a contest which bird should fly highest, and the wren jumped upon -the eagle’s back. When the eagle had soared as high as it could, it -said, “Where are you now, brown wren?” (_C’ àite bheil thu, dhreathan -donn?_). The wren jumped up a little higher and said, “Far, far, above -you” (_Fada fada fos do chionn_). In consequence of this extraordinary -feat the wren has twelve eggs while the eagle has only two. - -Natural historians assert that the number of wren’s eggs in one nest -seldom exceed eight, but others have stated that the most number is -twelve or even fourteen. In these tales which have been got together -in the West Highlands, the number is uniformly said to be twelve, but -whether this is actually the case or merely an assumption, there is no -call here for enquiring. - -The wren and his twelve sons were threshing corn in a barn, when a fox -entered and claimed one of the workers for his prize. It was agreed, -since he must get some one, that it should be the old wren, if he -himself could point him out from the rest. The thirteen wrens were so -much alike that the fox was puzzled. At last he said, “It is easy to -distinguish the stroke of the old hero himself” (_’S fhurasda buille -an t-sean laoich aithneachadh_). On hearing this, the old wren gave -himself a jauntier air, and said, “there was a day when such was the -case” (_Bha latha dha sin_). After this the fox had no difficulty, for -boasting was always illfated (_bha tubaist air a’ bhòsd riamh_) and he -took his victim without any dispute. - -On another occasion the wren and his twelve sons were going to the -peatmoss, when they fell in with a plant of great virtue and high -esteem. The old wren caught hold of the plant by the ears, and was -jerking it this way and that way, hard-binding it, and pulling it, as -if peat-slicing; white was his face and red his cheek, but he failed to -pull the plant from the bare surface of the earth: the plant of virtues -and blessings--(_Bha e ’ga dhudadh null ’s ’ga dhudadh nall, ’ga -chruaidh-cheangal ’s ’ga bhuain-mòine; bu gheal a shnuadh ’s bu dhearg -a ghruaidh, ’s cha tugadh e Meacain o chraicionn loma na talmhain; -Meacan nam buadh ’s nam beannachd_). - -The wren called for the assistance of one of his sons, saying, “Over -here one of my sons to help me” (_An so aon eallach mo mhac nall_), and -they caught the plant in the same way, jerking it this way and that -way, hard-binding and peat-slicing with it; white were their faces and -red their cheeks, but they could not with all their ardour, and their -utmost strength pull the plant from the bare surface of the earth: -the plant of virtues and blessings (_’S bha iad ’ga dhudadh null ’s -’ga dhudadh nall, ’ga chruaidh-cheangal ’s ’ga bhuain-mòine; bu gheal -an snuadh ’s bu dearg an gruaidh ach le ’n uile dhichioll ’s le ’n -cruaidh-neart cha tugadh iad am Meacan o chraicionn loma na talmhain: -Meacan nam buadh ’s nam beannachd_). - -“Over here with two of my sons to help me” (_An so dà eallach mo mhac -nall_), and the same operation was again performed unsuccessfully, and -in the same way one after another, until the whole twelve sons came to -the assistance of the old wren. Then they grasped it altogether, and -under the severe strain the plant at last yielded, and all the wrens -fell backwards into a peat pond and were drowned. - -The old man from whom this story was heard said, that in winter time, -when knitting straw ropes for thatching, he could get all the boys of -the village to come to assist him, and keep him company, and this they -did with cheerfulness on the understanding that the story of “The wren -and his twelve sons” would be illustrated at the end. One after another -of the boys sat on the floor behind him, and he having a hold of the -straw rope was able easily to resist the strain till he choose to let -go, then all the boys fell back and the laughter that ensured was ample -reward for their labour. - -The fame of the wren for its forwardness and impudence is also -illustrated by a story current in the south of Scotland, about Robin -Redbreast having fallen sick, and the wren paying him a visit, and -expressing great condolence when, after making his will, Robin -dismissed her, saying, “Gae pack oot at my chamber door, ye cuttie -quean.” In Gaelic the wren is also known by the name of _Dreòllan_, -and _Dreathan-donn_, and the name as applied to human beings means a -weakly, imbecile, trifling person, in whatever he takes in hand to do. - -All the other birds in the same manner have their own share of actions -ascribed to them, and the manner in which several of them made a brag -of their own young is amusing--particularly in Gaelic, in which the -call ascribed to them is more capable of imitation, and particularly in -the light of the manner in which the young of those who make the boast -are looked upon. - -“Gleeful, gleeful,” said the Gull, “my young is the supreme beauty.” - -“Sorry, sorry,” said the Hooded Crow, “but my son is the little Blue -Chick.” - -“Croak, croak,” said the Raven, “it is my son that can pick the lambs.” - -“Click, click,” said the Eagle, “it is my son that is lord over you.” - -(“_Glìtheag, glitheag,” ors an Fhaoilean, “’se mo mhac-sa an Daogheal -Donn._” - -“_Gurra, gurra,” thuirt an Fheannag, “’se mo mo mhac-sa an Garrach -Gorm._” - -“_Gnog, gnog,” ors am Fitheach, “’s e mo mhac-sa ’chriomas na h-uain._” - -“_Glig, glig,” thuirt an Iolaire, “’s e mo mhac-sa ’s tighearna -oirbh._”) - -In the Highlands the young gull is called _Sgliùrach_ which is the -regular name for a slatternly young woman. It is seen in the midst of -a storm alighting in the hollows, and restfully gliding to the highest -summits of the waves. - -The hooded crow’s fancy for its own young has passed into a proverb, -“The hooded crow thinks its own impertinent blue progeny pretty” (_’S -bòidheach leis an fheannaig a garrach gorm fhein_”). - -Of the Raven it is commonly said, that it is so fond of its victim’s -eyes that it will not even give them to its own young. Its supernatural -knowledge of where carrion is to be found amounts almost to instinct, -and is among the vices (_Dubhailcean_) ascribed to the bard. - -The eagle can only fly from an elevated situation, from the difficulty -of getting wind under its wings, and in this respect forms a great -contrast to the little wren. - -Of other tales in which the lower animals figure, the three following -are noticeable. - -I.--THE TWO DEER. The young, confident of its own speed and strength, -remarked:-- - - “Sleek and yellow is my skin, - And no beast ever planted foot - On hillside that could catch me.” - -The old deer, who knew better, answered, - - “The young dog black-mouthed - And yellow: the first dog - Of the first litter. Born in March, - And fed on quern meal and goat’s milk, - There never planted foot on hillside - Beast it could not catch.” - - (Sleamhuinn ’s buidhe mo bhian, - ’S cha do chuir e eang air sliabh - Beathach riamh ’bheireadh orm.” - - “An cuilean bus-dubh buidhe, - Ceud chù na saighe - Rugadh anns a’ Mhàrt - ’S a bheathaichte air gairbhean - ’S air bainne ghabhair - Cha do chuir e eang air sliabh - Beathach riamh nach beireadh e air). - -Regarding this description of the deer-hound it deserves notice that -the word _Màrt_, translated March, denotes any busy time of the year, -there being a màrt, or busy season in harvest as well as in spring, -_Màrt Fogharaidh_ as well as in _Màrt Earraich_, and that in the -islands meal made with the Quern (_Bràthuin_), and from brown oats, -which are the kind of oats most common in these islands, is stronger -and more nourishing food than common meal. The merits of goat’s milk -are well known. This description of the best kind of deer-hound is -striking, and was taken down from a reciter in Skye. - -II.--THE TWO HORSES. Two horses were standing side by side, ready yoked -and ready to commence ploughing, when the youngest, who was but newly -broken, and a stranger to field work, said, “We will plough this ridge -and then that other ridge and after that the next one, and once we have -commenced we will do every ridge in sight, and once we have fairly -commenced we will not be long in doing the whole field.” The old horse, -who had experience of the work, said, “We will plough this furrow -itself first.” - -III.--THE TWO DOGS. There was a big, sleek, honest-looking dog, and a -little yelping cur of “low degree” was always annoying him, and barking -at him. One day he caught the little cur, and gave him a squeeze and -sent it off yelping. When the cur recovered itself it said, “I will not -hurt you or touch you, but I will raise an ill report (_droch-alla_) -about you.” In pursuance of his threat the cur went among his -acquaintances, and such as he himself was. There are many dogs to be -found in every town. - - “Both mongrel puppy whelp and hound - And curs of low degree.” - -and to such the cur related how the big dog for all his smooth -appearance and apparent good nature was in reality a cruel, deceitful -dog and under all his apparent or seeming good manners, he was ready -to fall upon those weaker than himself, whether they gave him cause -or not, and if he could do it without being observed give them a bad -shaking. He was a dangerous dog and ought to be watched and no wise dog -should put himself in his way. - -This calumny made its way, found many believers and at last produced -its natural fruit. The big honest dog found his company avoided and -every body looking upon him with suspicion. - -At first the depression, and gloom which haunted him disappeared under -a hearty run, and the patting of its master, but it preyed so much on -him that he came to avoid society, and to be apparently indifferent -to any company. This happens in the experiences of life, and that -causeless and evil reports are most dangerous in their consequences. -Some time afterwards the cur was similarly dealt with by another cur, -who like himself had not very high principles. - - - - -THE CAT AND THE MOUSE. - -A GAELIC NURSERY RHYME. - - - The Mouse said from her hiding place, - “What are you about, Grey Cat?” - “Friendship, fellowship and love: - You may come out!” - “Well I know the hooked claw - That is fastened in the sole of your feet - You killed my sister yesterday, - And with difficulty I myself escaped, - You thieving cat, son of the grim grey one, - Where were you yesterday when from home?” - “I went away on my left hand - To hunt for mince-meat in an evil hour; - I was noticed by the goodman of the house, - My eye being shut and my cheek full; - He tightened my throat very hard, - And called out to bring him the cheese-knife, - He cut off one of my ears - And the red root of the ear to the bone.” - - Thuirt an Luchag, ’s i ’s an fhròig, - “’Dé th’ air t’ aire, a Chait Ghlais?” - “Càirdeas ’s comunn ’s gaol: - Feudaidh tusa tighinn a mach.” - “Is eòlach mi air an dubhan chrom - ’Tha ’n sàs ann am bonn do chas! - Mharbh thu mo phiuthar an dé, - ’S ann air éiginn ’fhuair mi-fhéin as. - A chaoitein, mhic Ghrìmeich Ghlais, - C’ àit an robh thu ’n raoir air chuairt?” - “Dh’ fhalbh mi air mo làimh-chlì - ’Shealg nan ìsbean ’s an droch uair; - Mhothaich fear-an-tighe dhomh, - Mo shùìl druidte ’s mo phluic làn; - Theannaich e m’ amhach gu cruaidh, - ’S ghlaodh e nuas air corc a’ chàis, - Thug e dhiom-sa an leth-chluas - ’S am faillein ruadh gu ruig an cnàimh.” - - -NOTES: - - The foregoing rhyme is here given as being a more complete version - than that to be found in vol. II. p. 389 (new edition p. 404) of - “Popular Tales of the West Highlands” by the late J. F. Campbell, of - Islay. - - - - -GAMES. - - -BOY’S GAMES. - -In the Highlands of Scotland, as in every other place where there are -children, youthful plays and amusements had their sway, and it is -worthy of attention how these amusements were eminently calculated to -develop and strengthen mind and muscular strength in the young. The -various amusements of Riddles, and the many forms of indoor or house -games are too numerous to describe, and in many instances not worth -while dwelling upon. These games particularly called out the power of -close attention and of ready speech, and were as often played out of -doors as indoors, according to weather. - - -I. - -WRESTLING MATCHES. - -When the youth of a village met at a _céilidh_, or indoor gathering, -and a wrestling match was resolved upon, one of them was appointed -a king or master of the ceremonies, and the company was bound to be -obedient to him in everything. In the following game a stout and likely -lad was fixed upon to come in, in the character of a “Desert Glede” -(_Croman Fàsaich_). When he came in, the following speech occurred: -addressing the king, he said:-- - -_Croman._ - -“Leigeadh da, leigeadh da, Dia,” - -_Righ._ - -“Co as a thàinig thu, a Chromain Fhàsaich, no ’de an dràsda thug so -thu?” - -_Croman._ - -“Thàinig mi a m’ fhonn ’s a m’ fhearann, ’s a m’ fhàsach fhéin.” - -_Righ._ - -“’Dé chuir fearann ’s fonn ’s fàsach agadsa ’s mise gun fhonn gun -fhearann gun fhàsach.”? - -_Croman._ - -“Mo chruas, ’s mo luathas, ’s mo làidireachd fhéin.” - -_Righ._ - -“Tha òganach geur donn agamsa a leagadh tu, ’s a bhreabadh tu, ’s a -bheireadh sia deug dh’ iallan do dhroma asad, agus iall g’ ad cheangal; -’s a mhi-mhodhaicheadh do bhean ann an clais na h-inne ’s tu fhéin -ceangailte.” - -_Croman._ - -“Cuir a mach so e ma ta.” - - * * * * * - -_Kite, or Glede._ - -“Permit, permit, O Deity.” - -_King._ - -“Where have you come from, Kite of the Desert, and what has now brought -you here?” - -_Kite._ - -“I come from my own land and soil and desert.” - -_King._ - -“How have you land and soil and desert, when I have neither land nor -soil nor desert?” - -_Kite._ - -“My own hardiness and swiftness and strength.” - -_King._ - -“I have a smart brown-haired youth, who can throw you down, and kick -you, and take sixteen thongs out of your back, and a thong to tie -you with, and who can throw your wife into the byre gutter while you -yourself are tied.” - -_Kite._ - -“Send him out here then.” - -The wrestling then began, and the one who proved victor became “Desert -Glede” for the next encounter, until the whole were run over. - -The words were sometimes used in the following form:-- - -_Righ._--“Dida-a-didacha-dìsa, a Chromain Fhàsaich, co as dràsda a -choisich thu?” - -_Croman._--“Feuch ’bheil gìomanach donn agad a chumas rium.” - -_Righg._--“Tha agamsa gìomanach donn a chumas riut ’s a dheanadh loth -pheallagach dhiot aig dorus an tighe, etc.” - - * * * * * - -_King._--“Deeda-a-deedacha-deesa, Desert Glede, whence have you walked -from now?” - -_Kite._--“Try whether you have a brown-haired youth to match me.” - -_King._--“I have a brown-haired youth that will match you and make a -matted colt of you at the door of the house, etc.” - -Another game popular on these occasions was one of forfeits, known -as the “Parson’s mare has gone amissing,” (_Làir a’ pharsonaich air -chall_). Every boy and girl in the company has a false name, given -for the occasion, such as “Old Cow’s Tail” (_Earball Seana Mhairt_); -“Rooster on the House-top” (_Coileach air Tigh_), etc. The king, or -overseer, commencing the game says, - - “The parson’s mare has gone amissing, - And it is a great shame that it should be so; - Try who stole her.” - - Làir a’ pharsonaich air chall, - ’S mòr an nàire dh’ i bhi ann; - Feuch cò ghoid i. - -Looking round the circle, he fixes upon some one, and mentions him by -the assumed name. He fixes, for instance, on the one to whom the name -of “Old Cow’s Tail” was given, and the person mentioned or denoted was -bound at once to answer, saying - - “It’s a lie from you” - (’S breugach dhuit e) - -to which the answer is, - - “Who then is it?” - (Feuch cò eile e?). - -The person accused at once passes it on by mentioning some one else, -such as the “Rooster on the House top,” and the same query and answer, -“Who then is it?”, etc., is passed on. The first one who fails in -giving a ready reply has to submit to give a forfeit which the ruler -keeps in security till all have been exacted; then some one bends down -and rests his head upon the king’s knee, when the forfeits are held -upon his head and he is made to award the punishment of redeeming -them. He does not see whose forfeit it is, and the penalty imposed is -sometimes very ludicrous and impossible. One, for instance, has to sit -on the fire till his stomach boils (_Suidhe air an teine gus am bi a -ghoile air ghoil_); another is to go out to the hillock in front of the -village and bawl out three times, - - “This is the one who did the mischief - And who will do it to-night yet.” - - (’S mise an duine a rinn an t-olc - ’S nì mi ’n nochd fhathast e). - -This game requires great readiness and retentiveness of mind. The -attention being kept continually on the strain in case one’s own -assumed name be called out, and a readiness to pass the accusation on -to another. - -The game of “Hide and Seek” was practised in the Highlands in many -forms. Probably the earliest and simplest is that of young children -playing round their mother, while she was engaged in baking bread. It -was the custom in olden times to gather the meal or remains of dough -left over after the oatcakes of bread were made, and duly work it into -a cake by itself, called the _Bonnach Beag_, or “Little Cake,” also -known as _Siantachan a’ Chlàir_, “The Charmer of the Board,” which -was supposed to be of mysterious value in keeping want away from the -house. This little cake was given to the children, and when butter was -ready or accessible, was thickly covered and given to the little fry, -making a very welcome and grateful treat. Sometimes when the butter was -very thickly spread, and perhaps with the thumb as the readiest and -most convenient substitute for a knife, the housewife said, “Here take -that; it is better than a hoard of cloth” (Gabh sin; ’s fhearr e na mìr -liath ’an clùd). Hence the expression that was used to denote that the -preparations were not quite over: - - “Cha ’n ’eil am bonnach beag bruich fhathast.” - (The little cake is not ready yet). - -Not infrequently the little things hid their heads under their mother’s -apron, thinking, like the ostrich of the desert that if their heads -were hidden, none of the rest of them would be seen. When children -played the game in the open air, the stackyard was commonly resorted -to, and the one who was fixed upon as the Blind Man, while the rest -were hiding themselves had to call out three times, - - “Opera-opera-bo-baideag” - -adding at the third time, - -“Dalladh agus bodharadh agus dìth na dà chluais air an fhear nach cuala -sud.” - -(Blindness and deafness and the loss of both ears be the lot of the one -who will not hear that). - -The Blind-man then caught hold of one of the stacks, and went round, -guided by his hands, giving occasional kicks in case any one should be -hiding himself near the ground. - - - - -APPENDIX. - - -I.--FINLAY GUIVNAC. - -(Page 44). - -_Guibhnich_, or _Duimhnich_, were the Campbells. In a song in dispraise -of the clan occurs, - - “Bheir mi ’n sgrìob so air na Guibhnich - Air son cuimhneachadh o nuadh. - - (I will make this line on the Campbell clan, - To remind them anew); - -and in another similar song, - - “Sgrios a’ chorrain air a’ choinnlein - Air na bheil beò do na Guibhnich.” - - (The destruction of the reaping-hook on a grain of corn - On the living race of the Campbell clan). - -In Stewart’s Collection, p. 320, is found, - - “Dean mo ghearan gu cuimhneach - Ris na Duimhnidh ghlan uasal.” - - (Be mindful to lay my complaint - Before the pure-minded noble Campbells). - - -II.--PORT-NAN-LONG. - -(Page 52). - -_Port-nan-long_ is said to have got its name from the following -circumstance:--About the year 500 A.D., the few inhabitants then -living in Tiree were in the township and neighbourhood of Sorabi, -where there was a chapel, and which lies on the south-east side of -the island, and is separated by the stream of the same name running -past the burying-ground into the bay, from the township of Balinoe -(_Baile-nodha_). The island having been previously desolated by -pirates and cattle-raiders, and a rumour being heard at this time that -a band of these had again returned among the islands to renew their -depredations, a watch was kept, and the factor of the community, who -appears to have been their only protector and counsellor, went daily -to look seawards for the appearance of the enemy, lest the small and -feeble band might be surprised before they could make their escape -or reach a hiding-place. One day then he saw ships coming from the -south-east, and he went in and sent word to his neighbours. When he -looked again, the ships were nearer and were a large fleet. The next -look he gave he saw that they were close at hand, near the land. He -then called the people round him, and told them how he could see that -their enemies, who were near, were too powerful to be resisted; that as -he himself and those with him were defenceless, and unable to escape, -their only hope of deliverance from their terrible danger was in the -power of Almighty God, whose aid he would ask, and kneeling on the -ground with his friends and neighbours around him, he said, “O Lord, -as all power is in thy hand, help us against these enemies who are -coming on us (to destroy us)”; (_A Thighearna, o ’n a’s ann ad làimh -a tha gach cumhachd, cuidich leinn o na naimhdean sin a tha ’tighinn -oirnn!_). He had scarcely uttered the last word when a violent storm -came from the south-east, and the ships of the enemy came ashore, one -heaped above another (_air muin a’ chéile_). Sixteen of them were -completely destroyed. One person even was not left to tell their fate; -and from that time the place has been called _Port-nan-long_, (the -Creek of Boats). - - -III.--A TRADITION OF MORAR. - -MAC VIC AILEIN OF MORAR (_Mòr-thìr_) was out in a shealing with his -men, on a summer morning, and saw a young woman following cows, with -her petticoats gathered to keep them dry, as the dew was heavy on the -ground (_a còtaichean truiste, le truimead an driùchd, g’ an cumail -tioram_). He said, “Would not that be a handsome young woman if her -two legs were not so slender (_mur biodh caoilead a dà choise_).” She -answered in his hearing, “Often a slender-shanked cow has a large -udder[31] (_is minig a bha ùth mhòr aig bò chaol-chasach_).” He asked -her to be brought where he was; she was his own dairymaid. She went -away to Ireland, and named her son Murdoch after his foster-father -(_oide_), whom she afterwards married. He was known as Little Murdoch -MacRonald (_Murcha beag Mac Raonuill_). As he grew older his mother -would be telling him about a brother he had in Alban (_an Albainn_) -who was a strong and powerful man, and the lad, being a good wrestler, -thought he would like to go and see him, to try a bout of wrestling -(_car-gleachd_) with him, to find which of them was the strongest man, -and watched for an opportunity to get to Alban. As there was frequent -communication then between Ireland and the Western Highlands he had -not long to wait till he saw a boat in which it was likely he would -be taken. He went to the harbour and on reaching the boat, without -knowing that it belonged to his brother, asked the first person he -met, who was _Mac vic Ailein_ himself, if he would get ferried across -to Scotland (_dh’ iarr e ’n t-aiseag_). _Mac vic Ailein_ said that he -would take him with them. When they went away the day became stormy -(_shéid an latha_), and no one who went to steer but was lifted from -the helm,[32] _Mac vic Ailein_ being thrown aside as well as the -others. When _Murcha beag Mac Raonuill_ saw that the strongest man -among them could not stand at the helm, he asked to be allowed to try -it. “You would get that,” _Mac vic Ailein_ said, “if you were like a -man who was able to do it, but when it is beyond our strength (_’nuair -a dh’ fhairtlich i oirnn fhéin_), you need not make the attempt.” “At -any rate,” he said “I will give it a trial”: and it did not make him -alter his position (_cha do chuir i thar a bhuinn e_) till they reached -land. As he was the best seaman _Mac vic Ailein_ would not part with -him. He took him to his house and entertained him as a guest. They -entered into conversation and began to give news to each other (_chaidh -iad gu seanachas agus gu naigheachdan_) till little Murdoch told him -he was his brother and that it was for the express purpose (_a dh’ aon -obair_) of seeing him he had come from Ireland, and that he would not -return till they tried a bout of wrestling, since _Mac vic Ailein_ was -so renowned for his prowess, and he would find out what strength he -possessed before he left. The heroes rose and began to wrestle, but -in a short time _Mac vic Ailein_ was thrown (_Dh’ éirich na suinn, -ach ann an tiota bha Mac ’ic Ailein ’s a dhruim ri talamh_). “I am -pleased to have taken the trouble of coming from Ireland (_toilichte -as mo shaothair_),” Murdoch said. Next day at dinner they had beef on -the table, and little Murdoch said, “Let us try which of us can break -the shank bone[33] (_a’ chama-dhubh_) with the hand closed.” “I am -willing,” _Mac vic Ailein_ said. “Well, try it, then,” Murdoch said. -_Mac vic Ailein_ tried as hard as his strength would permit, and it -defied him (_dh’ fhairtlich i air_). Murdoch broke it at the first -blow. _Mac vic Ailein_ then said, “You will not return to Ireland any -more; you will stay with me, and we will divide the estate between us.” -Murdoch replied, “I am well to do as it is (_glé mhath dheth mar thà_), -my mother and stepfather have sufficient worldly means (_gu leòir de -’n t-saoghal_), and I will not stay away from them though you were to -give me the whole estate,” and wishing _Mac vic Ailein_ enjoyment and -prosperity, he bade him farewell and returned to Ireland, and friendly -communication was kept up between them ever afterwards during their -lives. - - -IV.--CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN J. F. CAMPBELL OF ISLAY AND J. G. CAMPBELL. - -Among the treasures regarding folk-lore that I have been able to -collect are a few letters of the late J. F. Campbell of Islay to the -Rev. J. G. Campbell, late Minister of Tiree. They deal with various -questions and traditions. - -_Inter alia_ is a discussion concerning the word sàil versus sìol -Dhiarmaid. I give the letters as written. - - A. CAMPBELL. - - -SÀIL OR SÌOL DHIARMAID. - -The late Campbell of Islay to the late J. G. Campbell. - - TRAVELLERS’ CLUB, - Feb. 27, 1871. - - MY DEAR SIR, - - I’ll get you the books you name and send them soon. With regard to - sàil there was once an actor who amused an audience by putting his - head under his cloak and squealing like a pig. A countryman rose and - said that he would squeal better next day. So a match was made and - tried. The audience applauded the actor and hissed the countryman. But - he produced a pig from under his cloak. I know what the man meant who - signed Sàil Dhiarmaid. The man who spoke no other language pointed to - the place in his foot which he meant by Sàil, so I learned the lesson, - and anybody who will try may learn a good deal about Gaelic in the - same fashion. - - [Illustration] - - If a man starts with the conviction that knowledge is to the unknown - as a drop in the ocean--he will get on. - - I have MacNicol, and know his remark about Ossian’s leg. - - I have now got the only copy that ever was written, so far as I know, - and I shall be glad to get more. But we must all take what we can - get. As far as fixing the king or the country and the date, that is - perfectly hopeless. I have about 16 versions of one story in Gaelic, - and no two have the same name. I suppose that there must be sixty - versions of it known in other languages, and no two are alike. The - oldest I know is scattered in ejaculations and separate lines through - the Rigveda Sanhitâ, which is a collection of hymns in Sanscrit, and - the oldest things known. St. George and the Dragon is a form of the - story. Perseus and Andromeda is another. In Gaelic it is generally - _Mac an Iasgair_, or _Iain Mac_ somebody, or _Fionn Mac a’ Bhradain_, - a something to do with a mermaid or a dragon, the herding of cows and - the slaying of giants. The stories to which I referred were told me - by John Ardfenaig as facts (the Duke of Argyll’s factor in the Ross - of Mull). A man built a boat. Another, to spite him, said that the - death of a man was in that boat--no one would go to sea in it, and at - last the boat was sold by the builder to an unbeliever in ghosts and - dreams. The other was how the turnips were protected in Tiree. If you - know these you have got far, but if not you have a good deal to learn - in Tiree. - - I wish you success anyhow, - Yours truly, - J. F. CAMPBELL. - - - NIDDRY LODGE, KENSINGTON, - March 28, 1871. - - MY DEAR SIR, - - I have been too busy about festivities and work to be able to get the - book which I promised to seek for you. I got your letter of the 20th, - yesterday, and I am much obliged by your promise to put some one to - write for me. If he writes from dictation will you kindly _beg him to - follow the words spoken_ without regard to his own opinion, or to what - they ought to be. I speak English, but when I come to read Chaucer I - find words that I am not used to. So it is when men who speak Gaelic - begin to write old stories. Our argument is an illustration. You speak - Gaelic and you believe that Sàil means heel and nothing else. You told - me that Sàil Dhiarmaid ought to be Sìol. - - Now I speak Gaelic, but I profess to be a scholar, not a teacher. - I happen to know that the man who signed Sàil Dhiarmaid, which was - printed _Sàil_ didn’t mean _Sìol_. I have the following quotation,-- - - “_Eisdibh beag ma ’s àill leibh laoidh_ - - * * * * * - - _Chaidh am bior nimh’ bu mhòr cràdh - An Sàil an laoich nach tlàth ’s an trod-- - ’S e ri sior chall na fala - Le lot a’ bhior air a bhonn._” - - [Illustration] - - In this old lay as sung in the outer isles these would mean the spot - which an old Mull man pointed to as sàil.[34] - - If you are sceptical I hold to my creed of the people. But creed or no - creed I want to get the tradition as it exists and I would not give a - snuff for “cooked” tradition. - - Tuesday, Oct. 10, 1871. - CONAN HOUSE, DINGWALL. - - MY DEAR SIR, - - I promised yesterday at Portree to send you my version of the fairy - song, and asked you to return yours. You must remember that I never - tried to write it from Gaelic, and that I never tried to write it from - rapid dictation till last month. Correct my spelling, but mind that - I took the _sounds_ from ear, so preserve all that you can without - reference to dictionary words. Don’t be hard upon a clansman who is - doing his best. - - Believe me, - Yours very truly, - J. F. CAMPBELL. - - From John Cameron, a man about 60, who lives in the south end of - Barra, about three miles from Castlebay. He can sing and recite, - 1.--The Maiden (written by J. F. C.); 2.--The Death of Diarmaid; - 3.--The Death of Osgar; 4.--The Battle of Manus (written by J. F. C.); - 5.--The story of the Death of Garry; 6.--The Black Dog; 7.--The story - of ditto. 8.--The Smithy and story; 9.--The _Muireartach_; 10.--Dàn - an Deirg; 11.--The Fairy Song (as written here by J. F. C.); 12.--How - Coireal was slain; 13.--Fionn’s questions; 14.--A small story written; - and sundry other songs, lays, and stories, which he will get written - if I wish it. This is one of about a dozen of men whom I have met of - late who can sing and recite Ossianic ballads, of which some are not - in any book or old manuscript that I know. I have another version of - this song, written about ten years ago--by MacLean,[35] I think. See - Vol. IV. Popular Tales, Lists somewhere. It is now in London. - - -THE FAIRY SONG. - -The tune is very wild and like a pibroch. I could not learn it in the -time. - - -_This is the story as told in Gaelic._ - -There was a time, at first, when before children were christened -they used to be taken by the fairies. A child was born and it was in -a woman’s lap. A fairy came to the _Bean-ghlùn_ and she said to the -midwife, “_’S trom do leanabh_.” “_’S trom gach torrach_,” said the -other. “_’S aotrom do leanabh_,” said the fairy. “_’S aotrom gach -soghalach_,” said the midwife, “_’S glas do leanabh_,” said the fairy. -“_’S glas am fiar ’s fàsaidh e_,” said the other; and so she came day -by day with words and with singing of verses to try if she could “word” -him away with her--“_am briatharachadh i leatha è_.” But the mother -always had her answer ready. There was a lad recovering from a fever in -the house and he heard all these words, and learned them, and he put -the song together afterwards: after the child was christened the fairy -came back no more. - -This is the song. I have tried to divide the words so as to represent -the rhythm of the tune, but I am not sure that I have succeeded.--J. F. -C. - -I have given a rough copy to Miss MacLeod of MacLeod at Dunvegan, and I -should like to have _this_ or _a copy_ back if it is not troublesome. -My first manuscript is not easy to read, and I have worked this from it. - - Fairy:--“’S e mo leanabh mìleanach - Seachd Maìleanach - Seachd Dhuanach, - Gual na lag; ’s lag na luineach - Nach d’ fhàs “nacach.” - - [Reciter don’t understand gnathach, common.] - - - Mother:--Se mo leanabh ruiteach (colour ruddy) - Reamhar molteach - Miuthear mo luachair - Ohog ri mnathan - M’ eòin ’us m’ uighean - On thug thu muine leat - ’Us maire leat - ’Us mo chrodh lùigh - ’Us mo lochraidh leat. - - Mother:--Bha thu fo ’m chrios an uire - ’S tha thu ’m bliadhna - Gu cruinn buanach - Air mo guailain - Feadh a bhaile. - - Fairy:--Thug go gu gŏrach (fat, Reciter) - Mnath ’n òg a bhaile - Lan _shaochail_[36] uimach - Thug go gu gŏrach - Le ’n ciabhan dhonna - Le ’n ciabhan troma - -[He said at first somewhere, “Le ’n ciochan corrach”? place.] - - Thug go gu gŏrach - ’S le ’n suilean donna - - Mother:--Se sin Leoid - Na lorg ’s na luireach - Se Lochlan bu duchas dhuit - O fire fire nì mi uimad - Cireadh do chinn - Ni mi uimad. - - Fairy:--Fire fire nì mi uimad - Cha tu an uan beag - Ni mi uimad - Crodh ’us caorich - Ni mi uimad. - - Mother:--Fire fire ni mi uimad - Breachan chaola - Ni mi uimad - Fire fire ni mi uimad - A bhog mhiladh (? fileadh. Oh soft soldier, soft mine own) - O bhòg ’s leam thu - O bhog mhilidh bhog - Mo bhrù a rug - O bhog mhilidh bhog - Mo chioch a thug - O bhog mhilidh bhog - Mo gluin a thog - O bhog mhilidh - Bho ’s leam thu. - - Fairy:--B’ fheàrr leam gu faic mi do bhuaille - Gu àrd àrd an iomal sleibhe - Còta geal cateanach[37] uaine - Mu do ghuailain ghil ’us léine. - - Nurse:--B’ fhearr leam gu faichean do sheisearach - Fir na deance (?) a cuit shil - Gu rò do cheol air feadh do thalla (land or hall) - Leann bhi ga gabhail le fìon - Bhog mhilidh bhog - ’S leam thu. - -And so she says a verse each day, and if that would not do, she came -the next and made another, and the little lad made out the song which -he sat and heard. When the child was baptized she went away and never -came back again. - - * * * * * - -N.B.--I have set the verses to each character as best I could, not -knowing much about it except the last two, these the reciter placed. - - -NOTES: - -_The Fairy Song_ in the MS. is most difficult to read. It was written -phonetically, and is now in some places indistinct. The following -transliteration and translation by Mr. Duncan Mac Isaac, of Oban, -show a probable reading, and this may be enough, in view of the -spell-words of the fairy, whose mystic diction appears to have been -of a conservative quality, and to have affected the responses of the -infant’s mother.--[A. C.] - - Fairy--’S e mo leanabh mì-loinneach - Seac maoileanach - Seac ghuanach, - Guailne lag, ’s lag ’n a lùireach - Nach d’ ùisinnicheadh. - - Mother:--’S e mo leanabh ruiteach - Reamhar moltach - M’ iubhar mo luachair - A thog ri mnathan - M’ eòin is m’ uighean - O ’n thug thu m’ ùine leat - Is m’ aire leat - Is mo chrodh-laoigh - Is mo laochraidh leat. - - Mother:--Bha thu fo ’m chrios an uiridh - ’S tha thu ’m bliadhna - Gu cruinn buanach - Air mo ghualainn - Feadh a’ bhaile. - - Fairy:--Thuth gò gugurach - Mnathan òg a’ bhaile - Làn shòghail uidheamach - Thuth gò gugurach - Le ’n ciabhan donna - Le ’n ciabhan troma - Thug go gugurach - Le ’n cìochan corrach - ’S le ’n sùilean donna. - - Mother:--’S e sin Leòid - ’N a lorg ’s ’n a lùireach - ’S Lochlann bu dùthchas dhuit - O fire fire nì mi umad - Cìreadh do chinn - Nì mi umad. - - Fairy:--Fire fire nì mi umad - Cha tu an t-uan beag - Nì mi umad. - Crodh is caoraich - Nì mi umad. - - Mother:--Fire fire nì mi umad - Breacain chaola - Nì mi umad - Fire fire nì mi umad - A bhog mhìlidh - O bhog ’s leam thu - O bhog mhìlidh bhog - Mo bhrù a rug - O bhog mhìlidh bhog - Mo chìoch a thug - O bhog mhìlidh bhog - Mo ghlùin a thog - O bhog mhìlidh - Bho ’s leam thu. - - Fairy:--B’ fheàrr leam gu faic mi do bhuaile - Gu àrd àrd ’an iomall sléibhe - Còta geal caiteineach uaine - Mu do ghualainn ghil is léine. - - Mother:--B’ fheàrr leam gu faicinn do sheisreach - Fir na deannaige a’ cur sìl - Gu robh do cheòl air feadh do thalla - Leann ’bhi ’g a ghabhail le fìon - Bhog mhìlidh bhog - ’S leam thu. - - Fairy:--He is my ungraceful child, - Withered, bald, and light-headed, - Weak-shouldered, and weak in his equipments, - That have not been put to use. - - Mother:--He is my ruddy child, plump and praiseworthy; - My yew-tree, my rush, raised to women; - My bird and my eggs, since thou hast taken my time with thee, - My watchful care, my calved-cows, and my heroes with thee; - Last year thou wast under my girdle, - Thou art this year neatly gathered - Continually upon my shoulder - Through the town. - - Fairy:--Hooh go googurach, - Young women of the town, fond of delicacies and dresses, - Hooh go googurach, - With their brown ringlets, with their heavy tresses, - With their abrupt breasts, with their brown eyes. - - Mother:--That is a Mac Leod by heredity - In his coat of mail; - Thy nativity is Scandinavian; - O pother, pother, the combing of thy head, - I’ll do that about thee. - - Fairy:--Pother, pother, I’ll do about thee; - Thou art not the little lamb - I’ll make about thee, - Cattle and sheep I’ll make about thee. - - Mother:--Pother, pother, I’ll do about thee, - Narrow plaids I’ll make about thee, - O pother I’ll make about thee, thou soft warrior, - O tender one, thou art mine, thou soft soldier, - The fruit of my womb, thou soft, tender warrior, - My breast that took, thou soft champion, - Reared upon my knees, thou tender champion, - Since thou art mine. - - Fairy:--I’d prefer to see thy cattle-fold - High, high on the shoulder of the mountain, - A white coat, ruffled green, - About thy white shoulders, and a shirt. - - Mother:--I’d prefer to see thy team of horses, - And the men of the handfuls sowing seed, - And that thy music would be through thy hall - Accompanied by ale and wine; - Thou tender champion, - Thou art mine. - -The late Campbell of Islay in the following letter, extracts of which -will be given, alludes to Mr. Campbell’s intention of publishing at no -distant date. - - NIDDRY LODGE, Jan., 16, 1871. - - I thank you for your letter of the 10th which reached me on Saturday, - on my return to Tiree. - - I shall be very glad to assist a namesake and a Highland minister - who is engaged in literary work, in which I take a special interest - myself. I now repeat my message, and ask you to place my name on the - list of subscribers, if you have one. I shall be very glad to read - your book. I am not publishing more Gaelic tales, but I am collecting, - and I may some day publish a selection or an abstract or something - from a great mass which I have got together. If you have anything - to spare from your gatherings perhaps the best plan would be to - employ some good scribe, etc. etc. etc. If you have any intention - of publishing I beg that you will not think of sending me your - gatherings. But anything sent will be carefully preserved. - - Superstitions are very interesting, but I should fear that the people - will not confide their superstitions to the minister. Amongst other - matters which are noteworthy are superstitious practices about fowls. - - These prevail in Scotland, and are identical with sacrifices by the - blacks amongst whom Speke and Grant travelled--so Grant told me. - Anything to do with serpents has special interest because of the - extent of ancient serpent worship, for which see Ferguson’s great book - on Tree and Serpent Worship in India and elsewhere. The connection - between tree and well worship in India and in Scotland generally, and - generally in the old world, is well worth investigation; also anything - that is like the Vedic forms of religion, at which you can get by - reading Wilson’s Translation of the Rigveda Sanhitâ, and the works of - Max Muller. Anything belonging specially to the sea is interesting. - The Aryans are supposed to have been natives of Central Asia, to whom - the sea must have been a great mystery. - - Now it is a fact that all the Aryan nations have curious beliefs and - ceremonies and practices about going to sea, _e.g._--you must not - whistle at sea; you must not name a mouse _Luds_ in Argyll but _Biast - tighe_; you must not say the shore names for _fine_ or _low_ when at - sea, but use sea terms; all that is curious and very hard to get at. - Even to me they will not confess their creed in the supernatural. I - have a great lot of stuff that might be useful to you, and I shall be - glad to serve you, because there is a certain narrow-minded spirit - abroad to which reference is made in the paper which I send herewith. - It is highly probable that I may be out in the west in spring or - summer. - - Yours very truly, - J. F. CAMPBELL. - - -The following letter refers to the longest and most complex tale orally -preserved in the Highlands, ‘The Leeching of Kian’s Leg.’ The version -which Islay mentions is still unprinted. It is preserved with a portion -of his MSS. in the Advocate’s Library at Edinburgh, and a summary of -its contents has been published by me in _Folk-Lore_, Vol. I., p. -369. Mr. Campbell’s fragmentary version was printed and translated by -him, ‘Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Inverness, 1888.’ Another -fragmentary version, collected by the Rev. D. MacInnes, will be found -in Vol. II. of this series. The oldest known MS. version, alluded to -in this letter, has been edited and translated by Mr. Standish Hayes -O’Grady in _Silva Gadelica_, from a 15th century MS. A re-telling of -the story, based upon all the versions, will be found in Mr. Jacob’s -_More Celtic Fairy Tales_.--A. N. - - May, 4, 71. NIDDRY LODGE, - KENSINGTON. - - MY DEAR SIR, - - I sent you a _Times_ review of Clerk’s Ossian the other day to amuse - you; also a paper with an account of fighting in Paris, where I was at - Easter. - - I got your letter and parcel of May 1, last night, and I have just - read the story. It is extremely well written, and the language is - vernacular and perfectly genuine: as I have now got 20 volumes, and - half another, I am able to judge. Yours is a version of the story - of which I sent you the abstract. If ever I publish the story I see - that I must fuse versions, and select from the majority of various - readings, under the name of “The Leching of Khene is legg.” The story - is mentioned in the Catalogue of the Earl of Kildare’s library amongst - the Irish Books, A.D. 1526 (Harleian MSS., 3756, Brit. Museum). I gave - this information to Kildare, who has been hunting high and low to find - out what was meant, they could not tell him in Ireland. I met him at - Lorne’s marriage and lent him my copy, 142 pages from oral recitation. - Now you send me 19 more pages, and 3 of another version, 22. Between - us we have already recovered something of a story 345 years old at - least. - - Therefore Tradition is respectable; a comparison of versions gives a - fair measure of the power of popular memory, so that written Gaelic - folk-lore is a kind of measure for other and older written traditions. - But as all that is old in history was tradition at first, the study - is worth trouble as I judge. The more we can get written the better - pleased I shall be. I am exceedingly obliged to you, and hope to thank - you in person some of these days. - - I am, - Yours truly, - J. F. CAMPBELL. - - - - - NOTES: - -[31] In the oldest known version of the Exile of the Son of Usnech -(preserved in the 12th century MS., the Book of Leinster) when Noisi -sees Deirdre for the first time, he exclaims, ‘’Tis a fair heifer -passing by me.’ She answers, ‘Where the bulls are there must needs be -fine heifers.’ This is one of the passages relied upon by Prof. Zimmer -in support of his contention that old Irish literature is so extremely -‘naturalistic’ in its treatment of sexual matters that we must needs -suppose the Aryan Celts were polluted by a rude and more archaic -population. I confess I see nothing in either the earlier or the -present passage but the simplicity of a race living, 2000 years ago, as -it still in part does, very close to nature, and accustomed to frank -speaking about natural matters. The whole of this tradition is simply -the fitting into a local frame of incidents which are commonplaces in -the folk-tales.--A. N. - -[32] The helm was worked by being caught by the shoulders of the -steersman as it worked backwards and forwards (_’g a cheapadh le -’shlinneanan a null ’s a nall_). - -[33] _A’ chama-dhubh_, the bone of the animal between the knee -and shoulder-point (_na bha de’n chnàimh eadar an glùn agus an -t-alt-lùthainn_). - -[34] This discussion is doubtless concerning the spot where tradition -says the bristle of the boar wounded Diarmaid when he measured the -length of the dead beast.--A. C. - -[35] Hector MacLean, Ballygrant, Islay: now dead.--A. C. - -[36] Suobhcail or saobh chiall. - -[37] Hairy, rough, shaggy. - - -_Archibald Sinclair Printer Celtic Press, 10 Bothwell Street, Glasgow._ - - - - -_A SELECTION FROM_ - -MR. DAVID NUTT’S LIST OF WORKS - -ON - -Celtic Antiquities and Philology. - - - =Beside the Fire: Irish Gaelic Folk Stories.= Collected, Edited, - Translated, and Annotated by DOUGLAS HYDE, M.A.; with Additional - Notes by ALFRED NUTT. 8vo. lviii, 203 pages. Cloth. 7s. 6d. The Irish - printed in Irish Character. - -⁂ One of the best recent collections of Irish folk tales. - - -BY WHITLEY STOKES, LL.D. - - =On the Calendar of Oengus.= Comprising Text, Translation, Glossarial - Index, Notes. 4to. 1880. xxxi, 552 pp. Nett 18s. - - =Saltair na Rann= (Psalter of the Staves or Quatrains). A Collection - of early Middle-Irish Poems. With Glossary. 4to. 1883. vi, 153 pp. - Nett 7s. 6d. - - =The Old Irish Glosses at Wurzburg and Carlsruhe.= With Translation - and Index. 1887. 345 pp. Nett 5s. - -⁂ The oldest dated remains of Gaelic or any Celtic language. - - =Cormac’s Glossary.= Translated and Edited by the late JOHN O’DONOVAN, - with Notes and Indexes by W. S. Calcutta. 1868. 4to. The few remaining - copies, nett £1 10s. - -⁂ One of the most valuable remains of old Irish literature for the -philologist and mythologist. - - =The Bodley Dinnshenchas.= Edited, Translated, and Annotated. 8vo. - 1892. Nett 2s. 6d. - - =The Edinburgh Dinnshenchas.= Edited, Translated, and Annotated. 8vo. - 1893. Nett 2s. 6d. - -⁂ The Dinnshenchas is an eleventh-century collection of topographical -legends, and one of the most valuable and authentic memorials of -Irish mythology and legend. These two publications give nearly -three-fourths of the collection as preserved in Irish MSS. The bulk of -the Dinnshenchas has never been published before, either in Irish or in -English. - - -BY PROFESSOR KUNO MEYER. - - =Cath Finntraga.= Edited, with English Translation. Small 4to. 1885. - xxii, 115 pp. 6s. - - =Merugud Ulix Maicc Leirtis.= The Irish Odyssey. Edited, with Notes, - Translation, and a Glossary. 8vo. 1886. xii, 36 pp. Cloth. Printed on - handmade paper, with wide margins. 3s. - - =The Vision of Mac Conglinne.= Irish Text, English Translation - (Revision of Hennessy’s), Notes and Literary Introduction. Crown 8vo. - 1892. liv, 212 pp. Cloth. 10s. 6d. - -⁂ One of the curious and interesting remains of mediæval Irish -story-telling. A most vigorous and spirited Rabelaisian tale, of equal -value to the student of literature or Irish legend. - - -BY ALFRED NUTT. - - =Studies on the Legend of the Holy Grail=, with Especial Reference to - the Hypothesis of its Celtic Origin. Demy 8vo. xv, 281 pp. Cloth. 10s. - 6d. net. - -‘Une des contributions les plus précieuses et les plus méritoires qu’on -ait encore apportées à l’éclaircissement de ces questions difficiles et -compliquées.’--Mons. Gaston Paris in _Romania_. - -‘These charming studies of the Grail legend.’--_The Athenæum._ - -‘An achievement of profound erudition and masterly argument, and -may be hailed as redeeming English scholarship from a long-standing -reproach.’--_The Scots Observer._ - - =Celtic Myth and Saga.= Report upon the Literature connected with this - subject. 1887–1 888. (_Archæological Review_, October, 1888.) 2s. 6d. - - =The Buddha’s Alms-Dish and the Legend of the Holy Grail.= - (_Archæological Review_, June, 1889). 2s. 6d. - - =Celtic Myth and Saga.= Report upon the Literature connected with - these subjects, 1888–1 890. (_Folk Lore_, June, 1890). 3s. 6d. - - =Report upon the Campbell of Islay MSS.= in the Advocates’ Library at - Edinburgh. (_Folk-Lore_, September, 1890). 3s. 6d. - - =Review of Hennessey’s Edition of Mesca Ulad.= (_Archæological - Review_, May, 1889.) 2s. 6d. - - =Critical Notes on the Folk and Hero Tales of the Celts.= (_Celtic - Magazine_, August to October, 1887). 5s. - - =Celtic Myth and Saga.= Report upon the Literature connected with - these subjects. 1891–9 2. (_Folk-Lore_, 1891). 3s. 6d. - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - - -In this file, text in _italics_ is indicated by underscores, and text -in =bold= by equals signs. - -Obvious printer’s errors have been silently corrected; as far as -possible, however, original spelling and formatting have been retained. -No corrections have been made to any Gaelic text as printed, with the -sole exception of the third occurence of “Fire fire nì mi umad” on -page 145, which had been misprinted. - -In the printed book, an unnumbered page containing an editor’s note -was inserted between pages 34 and 35. In this file, the note has been -indented, given the subheading “Editor’s Note”, and moved directly -after the paragraph to which it seems to refer, on page 35. - -Footnotes were presented inconsistently in the printed book, sometimes -appearing at the bottom of the page and sometimes at the ends of -sections. 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