{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_67609/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_67609","id":"gutenberg_67609","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67609","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Other","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Civilization, Celtic","Clans -- Scotland -- Highlands","Folklore -- Scotland -- Highlands","Highlands (Scotland)","Oral tradition -- Scotland -- Highlands"],"text":"[Illustration: Vol. V.]\n\n\n\n\n Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition.\n\n Series initiated and directed by\n\n LORD ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.\n\n --------------\n\n Demy 8vo, cloth.\n\n _ARGYLLSHIRE SERIES._\n\n --------------\n\n VOLUME I.\n\n CRAIGNISH TALES.\n\nCollected by the Rev. J. MACDOUGALL; and Notes on the War Dress of the\nCelts by LORD ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL, xvi, 98 pages. 20 plates. 1889. 5_s._\n\n ---\n\n VOLUME II.\n\n FOLK AND HERO TALES.\n\nCollected, edited (in Gaelic), and translated by the Rev. D. MACINNES;\nwith a Study on the Development of the Ossianic Saga and copious Notes\nby ALFRED NUTT. xxiv, 497 pages. Portrait of Campbell of Islay, and two\n illustrations by E. GRISET. 1890. 15_s._\n\n \u201cThe most important work on Highland Folk-lore and Tales since\n Campbell\u2019s world-renowned Popular Tales.\u201d--_Highland Monthly._\n\n \u201cNever before has the development of the Ossianic Saga been so\n scientifically dealt with.\u201d--HECTOR MACLEAN.\n\n \u201cMr. Alfred Nutt\u2019s excurses and notes are lucid and scholarly. They\n add immensely to the value of the book, and afford abundant evidence\n of their author\u2019s extensive reading and sound erudition.\u201d--_Scots\n Observer._\n\n \u201cThe Gaelic text is colloquial and eminently idiomatic.... Mr.\n Nutt deserves special mention and much credit for the painstaking\n and careful research evidenced by his notes to the tales.\u201d--_Oban\n Telegraph._\n\n ---\n\n VOLUME III.\n\n FOLK AND HERO TALES.\n\nCollected, edited, translated, and annotated by the Rev. J. MACDOUGALL;\n with an Introduction by ALFRED NUTT, and Three Illustrations by E.\n GRISET. 1891. 10_s._ 6_d._\n\n ---\n\n VOLUME IV.\n\n THE FIANS;\n\n OR,\n\n STORIES, POEMS, AND TRADITIONS\n\n OF\n\n _FIONN AND HIS WARRIOR BAND_.\n\n Collected entirely from Oral Sources by JOHN GREGORSON CAMPBELL\n (Minister of Tiree); with Introduction and Bibliographical Notes by\nALFRED NUTT. Portrait of Ian Campbell of Islay, and Illustrations by E.\n GRISET.\n\n\n[Illustration: THE LATE REV. J. G. CAMPBELL]\n\n\n\n\n WAIFS AND STRAYS OF CELTIC TRADITION.\n\n ---------\n\n _ARGYLLSHIRE SERIES._--No. V.\n\n ---------\n\n CLAN TRADITIONS\n AND POPULAR TALES\n\n OF THE\n\n WESTERN HIGHLANDS AND ISLANDS,\n\n _Collected from Oral Sources_\n\n BY THE LATE\n REV. JOHN GREGORSON CAMPBELL.\n _MINISTER OF TIREE._\n\n SELECTED FROM THE AUTHOR\u2019S MS. REMAINS,\n AND EDITED BY\n\n JESSIE WALLACE AND DUNCAN MAC ISAAC,\n\n WITH INTRODUCTION BY\n ALFRED NUTT.\n\n _PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR AND ILLUSTRATIONS._\n\n\n LONDON:\n DAVID NUTT, 270\u2013271 STRAND.\n ---\n 1895.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n PAGE\n\n PREFACE, vii\n\n INTRODUCTION: ALFRED NUTT, ix\n\n Memoir of the late Rev. John Gregorson Campbell. His work as a\n folk-lorist. The present work.\n\n\n CLAN TRADITIONS.\n\n MACLEANS OF DUART, 1\n\n DEATH OF BIG LACHLAN MACLEAN, 5\n\n MACLEANS OF COLL, 7\n\n BROWNS OF TIREE, 12\n\n THE STORY OF MAC AN UIDHIR, 18\n\n STEEPING THE WITHIES, 24\n\n LITTLE JOHN OF THE WHITE BAG, 25\n\n THE KILLING OF BIG ANGUS OF ARDNAMURCHAN, 26\n\n THE LAST CATTLE RAID IN TIREE, 29\n\n LOCHBUIE\u2019S TWO HERDSMEN, 32\n\n FINLAY GUIVNAC, 44\n\n BIG DEWAR OF BALEMARTIN, 51\n\n THE BIG LAD OF DERVAIG, 53\n\n DONALD GORM OF SLEAT, 59\n\n DONALD GORM OF MOIDART, 62\n\n THE BLACK RAVEN OF GLENGARRY, 63\n\n THE OLD WIFE\u2019S HEADLAND, 65\n\n A TRADITION OF ISLAY, 67\n\n FAIR LACHLAN OF DERVAIG, 70\n\n\n LEGENDARY HISTORY.\n\n PRINCESS THYRA OF ULSTER AND HER LOVERS, 74\n\n GARLATHA OF HARRIS, 80\n\n\n STORIES ABOUT THE FAIRIES.\n\n A HOUSEWIFE AND HER FAIRY VISITOR, 83\n\n THE WISE WOMAN OF DUNTULM AND THE FAIRIES, 86\n\n\n FOLK TALES.\n\n THE TWO BROTHERS, 91\n\n THE TWO SISTERS AND THE CURSE, 95\n\n HOW THE DAUGHTER OF THE NORSE KING THINNED\n THE WOODS OF LOCHABER, 101\n\n HOW O\u2019NEIL\u2019S HAIR WAS MADE TO GROW, 108\n\n\n BEAST FABLES.\n\n THE WOLF AND THE FOX, 115\n\n THE FOX AND THE BIRD, 119\n\n THE WREN, 120\n\n THE TWO DEER, 123\n\n THE TWO HORSES, 124\n\n THE TWO DOGS, 124\n\n THE CAT AND THE MOUSE, 126\n\n\n BOY\u2019S GAMES.\n\n KING AND KITE, 128\n\n PARSON\u2019S MARE HAS GONE AMISSING, 130\n\n HIDE AND SEEK, 131\n\n\n APPENDIX.\n\n I.--FINLAY GUIVNAC, 133\n II.--PORT NAN LONG, 133\n III.--A TRADITION OF MORAR, 135\n IV.--LETTERS FROM THE LATE CAMPBELL OF ISLAY, 138\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nIt has been thought well and due, by those who knew the late J. G.\nCampbell of Tiree, to give to the public more tales collected by him,\nand his sister has made over the following collection, selected by\nherself from among the tales gathered in the course of many years. We\nsend them forth as a fitting memorial to his memory, and as another\nstone added to the cairn lovingly erected by old friends. At the end\nwill be found a few letters which passed between the late minister and\nthe late Iain Campbell of Islay, showing the methods of collecting\nfollowed by these two lovers of the folk-lore of their native land, and\nwhich in consequence cannot but prove of interest and value to those\nwho have followed the steps of the gleaning of folk-tales throughout\nthe British Isles--we may add throughout the world. These patient\nlabourers in such fields were the true pioneers of the movement in\nScotland.\n\nNotes, where not otherwise stated, are the author\u2019s or editors\u2019; those\nsigned A.N. are due to Mr. Alfred Nutt; those signed A.C. to the\nundersigned.\n\n ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.\n\n_Feb. 11, 1895._\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\nMEMOIR OF THE LATE JOHN GREGORSON CAMPBELL, MINISTER OF TIREE.\n\n [_The following Memoir is chiefly from information given by Mr.\n Campbell\u2019s sister, Mrs. Wallace of Hynish, thanks to whose unwearied\n and sympathetic assistance it was that the previous volume in the\n series, \u2018The Fians,\u2019 was made ready for and passed through the press,\n and that the present volume has been selected and put together from\n the mass of the material left by the author_].\n\n\nJohn Gregorson Campbell was born at Kingairloch, in Argyllshire, in\nthe year 1836, the second son and fourth child of Captain Campbell of\nthe _Cygnet_ and of Helen MacGregor, his wife. The fondness for study,\nthe devotion to his native literature and lore, which were such marked\nfeatures of his life, and which earned for him an abiding reputation\nas a Gaelic student, would seem to have been his by birthright. His\nmaternal grandfather was an ardent Gael, as may be judged by the\nletters that passed between him and Dr. Mackintosh. On his mother\u2019s\nside he was descended from Duncan MacGregor, 13th in direct descent\nfrom the first MacGregor who settled at Roro, in Glenlyon, Perthshire,\nwhilst through a paternal ancestor he traced back to a race that had\nhad dealings with the \u2018good people,\u2019 and on whom a _bean shith_ had\nlaid the spell \u2018they shall grow like the rush and wither like the fern\u2019\n(_f\u00e0saidh iad mar an luachair \u2019s cr\u00econaidh iad mar an raineach_).\n\nThe house of his birth on the shores of Loch Linnhe was small and\nlonely, and when he was three years of age his parents removed to\nAppin. His childhood was that of many young Highlanders. From earliest\nboyhood he attended the parish school in the Strath of Appin, walking\ndaily with his older sisters the long stretch that separated it from\nhis father\u2019s home. He loved to recall his early schooldays, and their\nmemory was ever dear to him. He had learnt more, he was wont to say in\nafter years, at that school than at all his other schools put together.\nAnd on the hillside and along the valley, traversed twice daily, he\ndrank in a love for and knowledge of nature in all her manifestations\nthat remained to him as a priceless possession throughout life. At ten\nhe was sent to Glasgow for further schooling, passed first through the\nAndersonian University, and went thence to the High School, preparatory\nto entering College. We have interesting glimpses of him at this\nperiod. He seems to have been a dreamy, quick-witted but somewhat\nindolent lad of whom his masters said, \u2018if Campbell likes to work\nno one can beat him\u2019; hot-tempered too, as Highlanders, rightly or\nwrongly, are credited with being. The only Highlander in the school,\nhe had doubtless much to put up with. His Glasgow schoolfellows had\nprobably as little liking for Highlanders as Baillie Nicol Jarvie\nhimself, and many were the petty persecutions he had to endure. He\nhas himself related how he suffered several hours imprisonment for\nfighting another boy \u2018on account of my country.\u2019 Like all who are\nsteadily bilingual from early youth he recognised how powerful an\nintellectual instrument is the instinctive knowledge of two languages,\nand was wont to insist upon the aid he had derived from Gaelic in the\nstudy of Hebrew and Latin. To one familiar with the complex and archaic\norganisation of Gaelic speech the acquisition of these languages must\nindeed be far easier than to one whose first knowledge of speech is\nbased upon the analytic simplicity of English.\n\nFrom the High School he gladly passed to College, where a happier\nlife and more congenial friendships awaited him. He had many Highland\nfellow-students, and at this early date his love for the rich stores\nof oral tradition preserved by his countrymen manifested itself. He\nsought the acquaintance of good story-tellers, and began to store up\nin his keenly retentive memory the treasure he has been so largely\ninstrumental in preserving and recording.\n\nAfter leaving college he read law for awhile with Mr. Foulds. In his\nlonely island parish he later found his legal training of the utmost\nassistance. Many were the disputes he was called upon to settle, and,\nas he has recorded, few there were of his parishioners who needed to\ntake the dangerous voyage to the Sheriff\u2019s court on a neighbouring\nisland. At once judge and jury his decisions commanded respect and\nacquiescence. At this period, and for some time previously, his\ninterest in and mastery of Gaelic legendary lore are shown by the fact\nthat he acted as Secretary to the Glasgow University Ossianic Society,\nfounded in 1831 by _Caraid nan G\u00e0idheal_, and still flourishing.\n\nHis thoughts and aspirations had early turned towards the church, and\nin 1858 he was licensed by the Presbytery of Glasgow. But suffering as\nhe then was from the effects of inflammation of the lungs, the result\nof a chill caught in his student days, and the effects of which were\nperceptible throughout life, he was forbidden to preach for six months.\nThe interval, spent in recruiting his shattered health, was profitable\nto his growing zeal for folk-lore studies. In Ayrshire or at Blair\nAthole he showed himself a keen and sympathetic collector of floating\noral tradition.\n\nIn 1860 he accepted the appointment to the united parishes of Tiree\nand Coll from the Duke of Argyll, and took up the work which was to\noccupy the remaining thirty years of his life. It is to be wished\nthat a sphere of activity more commensurate with his abilities had\nbeen accepted by him, as when he was offered the assistantship of St.\nColumba, Glasgow, and he seems at times to have felt as much. But such\nthoughts were certainly no hindrance to the performance of his duty,\ninterpreted in the largest and most liberal sense. He was the guide and\ncounsellor of his flock, who turned to him with unfailing confidence\nfor advice, exhortation, or reproof. An amusing instance of his\nparishioners\u2019 belief in his capacity may be cited; a sailor lad from\nTiree got, as sailor lads will, into some row in Spain and was marched\noff to jail. He took the matter philosophically, remarking, \u2018so long\nas the minister is alive I know they can\u2019t hurt me\u2019 (_bha fhios agam\nco fad\u2019s a bha \u2019m ministear be\u00f2 nach robh cunnart domh_). The esteem\nand affection in which he was held by his parishioners were cordially\nreciprocated by him. He is reported as saying that nowhere could be\nfound a more intelligent community than the Duke\u2019s tenantry in Tiree,\nand in the preface to Volume IV. of the present series he bears witness\nto the knowledge, intelligence, and character of his informants.\n\nWe do not go far wrong in conjecturing that the minister\u2019s zealous\ninterest for the preservation and elucidation of the native traditions\nwas not the least potent of his claims upon the respect and love of his\nflock. How keenly the Highlander still treasures these faint echoes of\nthe past glories and sorrows of his race is known to all who have won\nhis confidence. Unhappily it has not always been the case that this\nsentiment has been fostered and turned to good account by the natural\nleaders of the people as it was by John Gregorson Campbell.\n\nIn the guidance of his people, in congenial study, in correspondence\nwith Campbell of Islay and other fellow-workers, specimens of which\nwill be found in the appendix (_infra_ 138), time passed. His mother\ndied in 1890 at the manse, and his health, for long past indifferent,\nbroke down. The last years of his life were solaced and filled by the\nwork he prepared for the present series. At last, Nov. 22nd, 1891 he\npassed from his labours and sufferings into rest, the rest of one who\nhad well earned it by devotion to duty and to the higher interests of\nhis race.\n\nIn person Campbell was tall and fair, with deep blue eyes full of life\nand vivacity. He was noted at once for the kindliness of his manner,\nand for the shrewd causticity of his wit. The portrait which serves\nas frontispiece is taken from the only available photograph, and\nrepresents him in middle life.\n\n\nHIS WORK AS A FOLK-LORIST.\n\nThe Gaels of Scotland cannot be accused of indifference to the rich\nstores of legend current among the people. From the days of the Dean of\nLismore, in the late 15th century, onwards, there have not been wanting\nlovers and recorders of the old songs and stories. Unfortunately, in\nthe 18th century, a new direction was given to the national interest in\nthe race traditions by the Macpherson controversy. I say unfortunately,\nbecause attention was thereby concentrated upon one section of\ntradition to the neglect of others equally interesting and beautiful,\nand false standards were introduced into the appreciation and criticism\nof popular oral literature. Valuable as are the materials accumulated\nin the Report of the Highland Society, and generally in the voluminous\nliterature which grew up round Macpherson\u2019s pretentions, they are far\nless valuable than they might be to the folk-lorist and student of the\npast, owing to the misapprehension of the real points both of interest\nand at issue. Two generations had to pass away before Scotch Gaelic\nfolk-lore was to be studied and appreciated for itself.\n\nTo Campbell of Islay and the faithful fellow-workers whom he knew how\nto inspire and organise, falls the chief share in this work, belongs\nthe chief honour of its successful achievement. The publication of\nthe _Popular Tales of the West Highlands_ was epoch-making, not only\nin the general study of folk-lore, but specially for the appreciation\nand intelligence of Gaelic myth and romance. No higher praise can be\ngiven to John Gregorson Campbell than that his folk-lore work is full\nof the same uncompromising fidelity to popular utterance, the same\nquick intuition into, and sympathetic grasp of popular imagination as\nIslay\u2019s. His published work has indeed a somewhat wider range than that\nof _Leabhar na Feinne_ and the _Popular Tales of the West Highlands_,\nas it deals also with those semi-historic traditions, the nearest\nequivalent the literature of these islands can show to the Icelandic\nfamily sagas, which Islay excluded from the two collections he issued.\nThe following is a complete list, so far as can be ascertained, of the\npublished writings of John Gregorson Campbell, in so far as they relate\nto the legendary romance, history and folk-lore of Gaelic Scotland.\n\n\n IN THE \u201cCELTIC REVIEW,\u201d (1881\u201385).\n\n No. I. p. 61, West Highland Tale: How Tuairisgeal M\u00f2r was\n put to death.\n\n \u201d II. p. 115, The Muileartach: a West Highland Tale.[1]\n\n \u201d III. p. 184, West Highland Tale: How Fionn went to the\n Kingdom of Big Men.[2]\n\n \u201d IV. p. 262, West Highland Tale: MacPhie\u2019s Black Dog.\n\n\n IN THE TRANSACTIONS OF THE INVERNESS GAELIC SOCIETY.\n\n Vol. XIII. (1888) p. 69, Tale of Sir Hallabh O\u2019Corn.\n\n \u201d XIV. (1889) p. 78, Healing of Keyn\u2019s Foot.\n\n \u201d XV. (1890) p. 46, Fionn\u2019s Ransom.\n\n \u201d XVI. (1891) p. 111, The Pigmies or Dwarfs (_Na h-Amhuisgean_).\n\n \u201d XVII. (1892) p. 58, The Fuller\u2019s Son or School of Birds.\n\n\n IN THE CELTIC MAGAZINE, VOL. XIII, (1887\u201388.)\n\n No. 148, p. 167, Battle of Gavra or Oscar\u2019s Hymn.\n\n \u201d 149, p. 202, do. do. do. (Continued).[3]\n\n\n HIGHLAND MONTHLY.\n\n Vol. I. No. 10. p. 622, Introduction, &c.\n\n\n WAIFS AND STRAYS OF CELTIC TRADITION.\n\n Argyllshire Series, No. I.: The Good Housewife (p. 54\u201369).\n\n Argyllshire Series, No. IV.: The Fians: or Stories, Poems, and\nTraditions of Fionn and his Warrior Band. Collected entirely from oral\nsources. 1891.\n\nIn presenting his material to the English reader Campbell may\nprofitably be compared with Islay. In few ways was the work of the\nlatter more fruitful than in his mode of rendering Gaelic into English.\nIt is impossible, for instance, to look at the work done of late by\nthe distinguished Irish folk-lorists who are adding a new chapter\nto Gaelic romance, at the work of Douglas Hyde and W. Larminie and\nJeremiah Curtin, and not recognise how much in point of colour and\ntone and smack of the soil their translations excel those of the\npre-Campbell generation. Islay may, at times, have pushed his theory of\nidiomatic fidelity too far, occasionally where he aims at a rendering\nhe achieves a distortion, but as a whole the effect of strange, wild,\narchaic atmosphere and medium is given with unerring--one would call\nit skill, did one not feel that it is the outcome of a nature steeped\nin the Gaelic modes of conception and expression, and bold enough to\ninvent the English requisite to give an adumbration of them. For indeed\nthe speech of the _Popular Tales_ is a distinctive variety of English,\ndeserving study both from the philologist and the artist in words.\nIslay himself never handled this speech to better effect than did John\nGregorson Campbell in the fine tale, for instance, of Sir Olave O\u2019Corn\n(_Gaelic Soc. of Inverness_, Vol. XIII.), or in the _Muileartach_\n(_Waifs and Strays_, Vol. IV.), though as a rule he keeps closer than\nIslay to the ordinary standard of English expression. Readers of\nthis volume cannot fail to note the exceeding skill with which the\npithy, imaginative turns of thought, so plentiful in the original, are\nrendered into English. The reader is at once taken out of nineteenth\ncentury civilisation, and, which is surely the first thing required\nfrom the translator, by the mere sound and look of the words carried\nback into an older, wilder, simpler and yet, in some ways, more\nartificially complex life. The difficulty of rendering Gaelic into\nEnglish does not lie in the fact of its possessing a rude simplicity\nwhich the more sophisticated language is incapable of reproducing, but\nrather in that, whilst the emotions and conceptions are close to the\nprimitive passions of nature in a degree that our civilisation has\nlong forsworn, the mode of expression has the richness of colour and\nelaborate artificiality of a pattern in the Book of Kells. To neglect\nthe latter characteristic is to miss not only a salient feature of the\noriginal but to obscure the significance of a dominant factor in the\nevolution of Gaelic artistry.\n\nThat Campbell, like Islay, felt the paramount necessity of endeavouring\nto reproduce the formal characteristics of his Gaelic text is certain;\nlike Islay, he too, had the true scholar\u2019s regard for his matter.\nTo put down what he heard, to comment upon what he found, was his\npractice. It seems obvious, but many collectors neglect it all the\nsame. Nor in his essays at interpretation is he other than in full\nsympathy with his subject. He not only understands but himself\npossesses the mythopoeic faculty, and if this is endowed with a wider\nknowledge, a more refined culture than belonged to the Gaelic bards\nwho first gave these songs and stories their present shape, or to\nthe peasants and fishermen who lovingly repeat them, it differs in\ndegree only, not in kind. It may be doubted that the framers of the\n_Muileartach_ consciously embodied the conceptions which Campbell has\nread into the old poem (_Waifs and Strays_, IV. pp. 131\u2013135), but I\nthink it certain that he does but give shape with the precision of a a\nhigher culture to ideas which, with them, never emerged from the stage\nof mythic realisation.\n\n\nTHE PRESENT WORK.\n\nMost of the matter contained in the present volume had been partially,\nif not definitely, prepared for press by the author. The choice and\narrangement are largely due to his sister, Mrs. Wallace, his devoted\nfellow-worker. Still it must not be forgotten that we have here a\ncollection of posthumous remains which have not enjoyed the benefit of\nthe author\u2019s final shaping and revision. But it has been judged best by\nthe editors of the series to preserve these remains substantially as\nthey were left, with a minimum of indispensable revision. The volume\nmay lose in other respects, but it is, at all events, the work of the\nauthor and not of his editor friends. The latter have felt that regard\nfor the genuineness of Mr. Campbell\u2019s text was the first of their\nduties towards his memory.\n\nThis volume thus represents the contents of Campbell\u2019s note-books\nrather than provides such an ordered collection of material, bearing\nupon a particular section of Gaelic folk-lore, as he has furnished in\nthe preceding volume of this series. But for this very reason it yields\nbetter evidence to the wealth and variety of Gaelic popular tradition.\nA large portion of the book is local legendary matter, and is closely\nanalogous to what the Icelandic Sagas must have been in one stage of\ntheir development, a stage overlaid by the artistry of a greater school\nof prose story tellers than ever took the sagas of Gaelic Scotland in\nhand. Professor York Powell has well analysed the phase through which\nsuch stories as those of Burnt Njal or Egil Skallagrimm\u2019s son must have\npassed before they reached the form familiar to us.[4] He describes the\npopular narrator working up a mass of local, fairly authentic detail\nabout his hero, running it into a conventional mould, and then fitting\nthe result into a scheme of wider historic scope. The Gaelic matter\npreserved alike by Mr. Campbell in this volume and by Mr. MacDougall\nin the first volume of the series has not got beyond the local anecdote\nstage, though, as in the variant forms of the tale of the Grizzled\nLad and MacNeill (p. 5, _et seq._), we can see the conventionalizing\nprocess at work, accentuating certain details, discarding others, with\nthe view of transmuting the blurred photographic variety of life into\nthe clear-cut unity of art. But the process is rudimentary. It is\nstrange that this should be so considering the wealth of conventional\nsituations that lay ready to the hand of the Gaelic story teller in\nthe highly elaborated sagas of Cuchulainn and of Finn, for the purpose\nof moulding the achievements of historical Campbells, MacLeans and\nMacNeills, into a satisfactory artistic form. Such convention as is\napparent in these scraps of sagas is related to that of the folk-tale\nrather than to that of the great heroic legends. An interesting example\nis afforded by the story of Mac an Uidhir. This may well have a basis\nof fact, indeed Campbell cites an actual analogue, but it has been\nrun into the shape of an ordinary separation and timely-recognition\nfolk-tale. Other instances will present themselves to the reader and\nafford instructive study of the action and reaction upon each other of\nfolk-life and oral narrative legend.\n\nAny fresh addition of moment to the considerable recorded mass of\nScottish local historic tradition increases the wonder that material\nof such vigour and interest, full of the clash of fierce primitive\npassion, rich in character, should have had so little literary outcome.\nThe stuff is not inferior to that of the Icelandic tales, but instead\nof a first-rate contribution to the world\u2019s literature we have only a\nchaos of unworked up details. Yet during the time that these implanted\nthemselves and took shape in the popular memory, Gaelic story-tellers,\nelaborating and perpetually readapting the old mythic and heroic\ntraditions of the race, were producing narratives of rare and exquisite\ncharm. Perplexity is intensified if, as Professor Zimmer maintains,\nthe Norsemen learnt the art of prose narrative from the Irish and\ndeveloped the great school of Icelandic story telling on lines picked\nup in Gaeldom. Certain it is that the Irish annals, relating the events\nof the 3rd to 9th centuries, which assumed their present shape sometime\nin the 10th to the 12th centuries, contain a large amount of historic\nnarrative that is closely allied in form and spirit to the contemporary\nScotch Gaelic sagas. There is the same directness of narrative, the\nfrequent picturesqueness of incident, the pithy characterisation;\nthere is also the same failure to throw the material into a rounded\nartistic form, and, most curious of all resemblances, the conventions\nat work distorting historic fact are those of the folk-tale rather\nthan of the national heroic epos. I would cite in this connection\ncertain episodes of the Boroma[5] (in itself an admirable example of\nthe failure of Gaelic story tellers to work up into satisfying form\nvery promising historical material) such as that of Cumascach\u2019s visit\nto Brandubh, or again many passages in the stories about Raghallach and\nGuaire. The whole subject is, as nearly everything else in the record\nof Gaelic letters, fraught with fascinating perplexities. The present\nwriter can but here, as he has so often done before, make a big note of\ninterrogation and trust that Gaelic scholars on both sides the water\nwill consider the problem worth study, and succeed in solving it.\n\nI note those points which interest me as a student of tradition in\ngeneral, and of Celtic tradition in particular. For most readers these\nscraps of local history derive their chief value from the vivid light\nthey flash back upon the past, from the evidence they yield of the\nwild, fierce--I had almost written savage--life from which we are\nseparated by so few generations. Some there may be to mourn for the\npast. Not a few Highland landlords will possibly regret the good old\ndays when the MacLean planted his gallows in the midst of the island of\nTiree, and the last comer with his rent knew what awaited him (p. 13).\nTruly a more effectual means of getting in the money than by writ which\nthe sheriff cannot execute.\n\nThe remainder of the volume comprises matter more upon the usual\nfolk-lore lines; much, familiar already but valuable in the good\nvariant form here recorded, much again novel, like the curious tale\nof the Princess Thyra and her lovers. Taken in conjunction with the\nauthor\u2019s previous volume in this series on the Finn tradition as still\nliving in the Western Highlands, the whole offers a faithful picture of\nthe imagination, memory, and humour of the Gaelic peasant playing round\nthe old-time beliefs, stories and customs handed down to him from his\nforefathers.\n\n ALFRED NUTT.\n\nI append a list of the chief informants from whom Mr. Campbell derived\nthe material contained in Vol. IV. and V. of the Argyllshire series of\n_Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition_.\n\n Malcolm MacDonald, Scarnish, Tiree.\n Malcolm MacLean, Kilmoluaig, Tiree.\n Hugh MacDonald, do. do.\n John MacLean, (bard), Balemartin, Tiree.\n Hugh Macmillan, (tailor), Tobermory.\n Angus MacVurrich, Portree, Skye.\n Duncan Cameron, (constable), Tiree.\n Allan MacDonald, Mannal, Tiree.\n Donald Mackinnon, Balevoulin, Tiree.\n John Cameron, (_Iain MacFhearchar_), Balevoulin, Tiree.\n Archibald Mackinnon, (_Gilleasbuig ruadh nan sgeirean dubha_), Tiree.\n Donald Cameron, Ruaig, Tiree.\n Donald MacDonald, Mannal, Tiree.\n Malcolm Sinclair, Balephuil, Tiree.\n John MacArthur, (tailor), Moss, Tiree.\n Duncan MacDonald, Caolis, Tiree.\n Neil MacLean, (the elder), Cornaig, Tiree.\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[1] Reprinted The Fians. p. 131\u2013158.\n\n[2] Reprinted The Fians. p. 175\u2013191.\n\n[3] Reprinted The Fians, p. 28\u201348.\n\n[4] Folk-Lore, June, 1894.\n\n[5] The _Boroma_, the story of the tribute imposed upon Leinster by\nTuathal Techtmar in the second century and remitted in the sixth\ncentury, has been edited and translated by Mr. Whitley Stokes, (_Rev.\nCelt._) and by Mr. Standish Hayes O\u2019Grady in _Silva Gadelica_.\n\n\n\n\nCLAN TRADITIONS.\n\n\n\n\nMACLEANS OF DOWART.\n\n\nThe first MacLeans, Wily Lachlan (_Lachunn L\u00f9banach_), and Punctilious\nHector (_Eachann Reanganach_), came to Dunolly to MacDougall. He sent\nthem provisions and made his men watch to see if they were gentlemen.\nIt was inferred they were, from their paring cheese, or, throwing the\nremains of their food to the dogs. On leaving Dunolly they came to Aros\nin Mull. This word Aros is the one regularly used to denote a royal\nresidence or palace, and the Lords of the Isles claiming an independent\nsovereignty, their residence in Mull came to be called Aros, a name\nwhich it still retains. Their residence in the north was Duntulm,\nand in the Sound of Mull, Aros and Ardtornish. The view from the old\ncastle of Aros up and down the Sound is very commanding, and that from\nArdtornish is equally so. The MacLeans on coming to Aros found _Peddle\nM\u00f2r_ (a south country ploughman to _MacC\u00f3nnuill_ of the Isles) who sent\nthem food, but gave no knife and fork, telling them to put hen\u2019s bills\non (_guib-chearc_) to take it. On coming to him they found him bending\nto repair a failing in the plank board (_f\u00e0illinn na fliuch-bh\u00f9ird_),\nor keel board, of a galley (_birlinn_) with which he was to go to meet\nhis master.\n\nThe Lords of the Isles to make their estate appear greater employed,\nfrom the name, evidently a south countryman at agricultural work, hence\nthe name Peddle which is not of Highland origin. They struck off his\nhead and went themselves to meet MacC\u00f3nnuill whom they took prisoner,\nand brought to MacDougall. He however would take nothing to do with\nthe captive. At the advice of an old man they then returned with their\nprisoner to Aros, and got him pledged to give his daughter to one of\nthem. Lachlan married the daughter and got Dowart.\n\nIt is said by some that Hector was the oldest of the two brothers, and\nthat when MacC\u00f3nnuill the Lord of the Isles was out pleasure-sailing\nwith his daughter, the brothers overtook his galley and seizing him\nsaid \u201cThe omen of your capture has overtaken you\u201d (\u201c_Tha manadh do\nghlacaidh ort_\u201d). He had no ransom to offer but his daughter and\nlands. Lachlan took the daughter, and with her he got the lands of\nDowart. The other got the lands of Lochbuy. MacC\u00f3nnuill gave for food\nto the child born of the Dowart marriage Little Hernisker with its\ntwenty-four islands (_Earnasgeir bheag le \u2019cuid eileanan_). Afterwards,\nat Ardtornish, the fourth or fifth descendant of Dowart asked the then\nLord of the Isles for a livelihood (_m\u00e0thair bheathachaidh_). He got\nthe reply, \u201cJump the wall where it is lowest\u201d (\u201c_Leum an g\u00e0radh far\nan \u00ecsle e_\u201d) which led to Ardgour being taken from MacMaster, who was\nknown at the time to be no favourite with the Lord of the Isles, and\nthe attack made upon his land was readily commuted into a chartered\npossession. The tradition is as follows:\n\nThe Lord of the Isles was lying sick at Ardtornish. The MacC\u00f3nnuill,\nnow commonly called MacDonald, claimed a jurisdiction independent of\nthe Scottish Crown till about 1493 A.D. or thereabouts, and many if not\nall the chiefs of the Western Highlands and Islands paid him court.\nAmong others MacMaster, chief, or proprietor, of Ardgour, came to pay\nhis respects at that time. Ventilation was not then so much regarded\nin the case of the sick as it is now, and MacMaster, being offended at\nsome breath from the sick chamber, said _F\u00f9ich, f\u00f9ich_, an expression\nof disgust and offence. Unfortunately for himself the inadvertent\nexpression was made a handle of, and was never forgiven to MacMaster\nby the Lord of the Isles. In consequence, when the Laird of Dowart,\nwho was married to a near relative of his, came to ask for a means of\nlivelihood (_m\u00e0thair bheathachaidh_) to the child born of his marriage\nwith the kinswoman of the Lord of the Isles, the potentate said to\nhim, \u201cJump the wall where it is lowest\u201d (_Leum an g\u00e0radh far an \u00ecsle\ne_). The youth or young man being now of age to shift for himself, a\ncompany of men and a boat was given him by his father, and he made for\nArdgour. A battle was then fought and MacMaster was defeated. One of\nMacMaster\u2019s sons, who was surnamed the Fox (_An sionnach_), possibly\nbecause weakness often seeks to protect itself by wiliness and deceit\nor any other artifice that will give protection. In these stormy days\nany such means were more excusable. The Fox made his way to go across\nat Corran to the mainland after the battle. His father\u2019s fisherman\nwas then fishing in the neighbourhood of the ferry at Red Bay (_Port\nDearg_), and the Fox called to him to throw him across to the other\nside. The fisherman who rejoiced in the cacophonous name of Carrascally\n(_Mac-a-Charrusglaich_), was deaf to his cry, and he only said that\nthe cuddie fish was taking well (\u201c_Gu \u2019n robh gabhail mhaith air na\ncudainnean_\u201d) or that he lost his oars, and the young MacMaster had\nto hide himself in the adjoining wood. When the MacLeans came to the\nplace, Carrascally said that there was a fox of the MacMasters still\nhiding in the wood, and the MacLeans pursued him. The cairn, or heap of\nstones, is still shown where the Fox was overtaken and slain.\n\nSome say it was MacMaster himself, and not his son, who was flying\nafter the defeat by the MacLeans, and was refused to be ferried by the\nfisherman, and that his son who was called the Fox, and had committed\nsome fraud when abroad, was caught in Inverscaddel wood and was stabbed\nby MacLean.\n\nThe fisherman, who was rascally in more than name, came to MacLean and\nmade claim to having done good service in having refused to help the\nfugitive; and in having pointed out that he was still in the wood.\nMacLean upon this put up three oars and made a gallows with them,\non which he hanged the fisherman, or Carrascally, at the hangman\u2019s\ncove (_Port-a-chrochaire_), saying if he had treated his master\nas he said he had done, it might be his turn another day, and the\nfisherman\u2019s cunning recoiling upon himself has passed into a proverb\n\u201cThe officiousness, or discretionary power of MacCarrascally chasing\nMacMaster\u2019s Fox,\u201d (\u201c_Meachanus Mhic a\u2019 Charrasglaich ruith Sionnach\nMhic a\u2019 Mhaighstir_\u201d). The MacLeans have ever since retained Ardgour,\nand have been esteemed for their position as Highland proprietors.\nTheir title in Gaelic is _Mac-\u2019Ic-Eoghain_ (the son of the son of\nHugh). The son of the son of, or grandson, (_Mac-\u2019Ic-_) being the word\nused in the Highlands of Scotland as the patronymic of Chiefs, instead\nof the O, or Grandson, used in Ireland, as O\u2019 Donnell, O\u2019 Brian, O\u2019\nMeagher, &c. Thus, the son of the son of Patrick (_Mac-\u2019Ic-Ph\u00e0druig_)\ndenotes Grant of Glenmoriston; the son of the son of Alexander\n(_Mac-\u2019Ic-Alasdair_), the Chief of Glengarry; son of the son of Hector\n(_Mac-\u2019Ic-Eachuinn_), MacLean who had once Kingairloch. The title of\nsome Chiefs is only son of (_Mac_); as, Lochiel is known as the son of\nDark Donald (_Mac Dho\u2019uil Duibh_). The leading Highland Chief is known\nas _Mac Cailein_ (the son of Colin). The House of Argyll derives its\nGaelic title from Colin, who was slain in a clan feud at the battle on\nthe mountain known as the String of Lorn (_An t-Sreang Lathurnach_)\nwhen the ford, known as the Red Ford (_Ath Dearg_), ran red with blood.\n\n\n\n\nDEATH OF BIG LACHLAN MACLEAN,\n\nCHIEF OF DUART,--\n\n(_Lachunn M\u00f2r Dhuart_).\n\n\nThe Chiefs of Duart were among the most powerful and influential chiefs\nin the Highlands. Their power was absolute, bearing the control of\nneither King nor Parliament, and there are many stories shewing that\nthey were very unsparing in visiting with their vengeance, and even\ntaking the lives of those who offended them.\n\nA very notorious sea-robber and land plunderer of whom there are many\ntales in the Isle of Skye raised a _creach_, or cattle-spoil, from\nMacDonald Lord of the Isles, who then occupied a fort on the site of\nthe present manse of Kilchoman in Islay. He managed also to circulate a\nreport that it was the MacLeans from Mull who were the depredators. At\nthat time MacLean, Duart, was ambitious to be overlord of a great part\nof Islay, and _Lachunn M\u00f2r_ came with a band of followers to Gruinard\nbeach in the neighbourhood of the fort.\n\nIt is said that before leaving Mull, he was standing on the roof of\nAros Castle which overlooks the Sound of Mull and on its being pointed\nout that an expedition to Islay would be very dangerous to his men,\nhe said, that he did not care though there should not be a MacLean in\nMull except those descended from himself. Neither he himself nor his\nmen came back from the ill-fated expedition. After landing at Gruinard\nbeach (_Tr\u00e0igh Ghrunnard_) he was met by the MacDonalds. A little man,\nknown in tradition as the Black Elf (_Dubh Sith_) and (_Ochd-rann\nbodaich_), or eighth part of a man--[In Scotch the eighth part would be\nthe lippie used for measuring grain and meal. According to the table to\nbe found in old Reckoning Books a boll consists of two pecks and each\npeck of four lippies. This makes each lippie equal to an eighth part\nof a boll],--offered his services for the battle to MacLean, but the\nhaughty Chief rejected the offer with disdain. The Black Elf then went\nto MacDonald, who accepted his offer; and during all the current of the\nheady fight the dwarf was observed to follow MacLean for an opportunity\nto kill him with an arrow. An opportunity having at last occurred by\nMacLean lifting his arm, an arrow was launched and MacLean was pierced\non the side, and fell with a deadly wound. Having lost their Chief the\nMacLeans were routed with loss, and those who escaped from the battle,\nhaving taken refuge in a neighbouring church, were destroyed by the\nMacDonalds, who set the church on fire. The body of Lachunn M\u00f2r was\ntaken on a sledge, there being no wheeled vehicles in those days, to\nKilchoman burying-ground. Some say that the person who took him was his\nwife, and others say it was his foster-mother. His head from the motion\nof the sledge nodded in a manner that made the boy who accompanied her\nlaugh. She was so much offended at his ill-timed merriment that she\ntook a sword and killed him on the spot. The site of this tragedy in\nBenviger is still pointed out and the place where Lachunn M\u00f2r himself\nwas buried is known to the people of the place although no headstone\nmarks it.\n\n\n\n\nMACLEANS OF COLL.\n\n\nThe Laird of Dowart was on his way to gather rent in Tiree, and sent\nashore to Kelis (_Caolas_), Coll, for meat (_biadhtachd_). The woman of\nthe house told MacLean was not worth sending meat to, and Dowart kindly\ncame ashore to see why she said so. She said it because he was not\ntaking Coll for himself. Three brothers from Lochlin had Coll at the\ntime, Big Annla (_Annla M\u00f2r_) in Loch Annla, another in _Dun bithig_ in\nTotronald, and the third in Grisipol hill. She had thirty men herself\nfit to bear arms. Dowart went to Loch Annla fort late in the evening\nalone, and was hospitably received. Annla\u2019s arrows were near the fire,\nand Dowart gradually edged near them till he managed to make off with\nthem. This led to a fight at Grimsari and is perhaps the reason why\nDowart encouraged _Iain Garbh_ to make himself master of Coll.\n\nStout John (_Iain Garbh_) was the fourth MacLean,--others say the first\nof Coll. When nine or twelve months old, his mother, having become a\nwidow, had married MacNeill of Barra, _Iain Garbh_ was sent by his\nstep-father to Barra, in charge of a nurse (_ban-altruim_). This woman\nwas courted by a Barra-man, whom, as her charge was a pretty boy, she\nat first refused. Her lover, however, got word that _Iain Garbh_ was to\nbe killed at MacNeill\u2019s instigation, and told her. The three fled, in\na boat with two oars, from Barra during night. An eight-oared galley\n(_ochd r\u00e0mhach_), with a steersman set off in chase. At Sorisdale in\nColl, beyond Eilereig, in the borderline (cr\u00ecch) between Sorisdale\nand Boust, there is a narrow sound, for which both boats were making,\nand the little one was almost overtaken. It was overtake and not\novertake (_beir\u2018s cha bheir_). The little boat went through the sound\n(_caolas_) safely, but the oars of the large boat were broken. Hence,\n\u2019The Sound of Breaking Oars\u2019 (_Caolas \u2019Bhriste-R\u00e0mh_) is the name of\nthe Sound to this day. The little boat put to sea again, and was lost\nto sight. The Barra men went to every harbour near, \u201cThe Wooded Bay\u201d\n(_B\u00e0gh na Coille_) &c., where they thought it might come, but they\nnever saw it again. It is supposed it went to Mull. There is no further\nmention of the Barra man or the nurse. Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) went\nto Ireland, and when well grown told the woman with whom he stayed\nthat he had a dream of a pile of oaten cakes (_t\u00f2rr de bhonnaich\nchoirce_) and a drip from the roof (_boinne snithe_), had fallen and\ngone right through them. The woman said the dream meant he was a laird\nof land (_ceannard fearainn_) and would get back his own. On this he\ncame to Mull, and having got men, of whom seven were from Dervaig,\nthe baldheaded black fellow, (_gille maol dubh_) afterwards known as\nGrizzled Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) being one of them with him, went to\nColl. His companions vowed to kill whatever living (_be\u00f2_) they fell\nin with first, after landing in Coll. Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) had a\nmark on the forehead by his having fallen on the edge of an iron pot.\nHis foster-mother (_muime_) was gathering shellfish (_buain maoraich_).\nHe went to speak to her, when he came behind her as she stumbled, and\nshe exclaimed, \u201cGod be with MacLean\u201d (\u201c_Dia le Mac-\u2019illeathain_\u201d), \u201cMy\nloss that MacLean is not alive\u201d (\u201c_Mo sgaradh nach bu mhairionn do\nMhac-\u2019illeathain_\u201d). When pressed to explain herself she said, \u201cConceal\nwhat I said: many an unfortunate word women say\u201d (\u201c_Dean r\u00f9n maith orm:\nis ioma facal tubaisdeach their na mnathan_\u201d), and at last he told her\nhis story. It had been long foretold that he would return. The Mull men\ncame up, and the Grizzled Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) was going to kill the\nwoman, according to the vow. Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) told who she\nwas, and her life was spared. She informed them that MacNeill sent a\nservant every day from Grisipol House, where his headquarters were, to\nBreacacha for news. If all was well, the messenger was to return riding\nslowly with his face to the horse\u2019s tail; if any one returned with him,\na friend was to walk on the right of the horse, a stranger (_f\u00f2garach_)\non the left; and she said that he had just left on his way home. Stout\nJohn (_Iain Garbh_) and his companions left the Hidden Anchorage\n(_Acarsaid Fhalaich_) and went to the top of the place called Desert\n(_F\u00e0sach_). They there saw the rider of the white horse at Arile\u00f2id.\nStout John (_Iain Garbh_) promised reward to any one who would\nintercept him, before he reached Grisipol. The Grizzled Lad (_Gille\nRiabhach_) said he would do so, if he got Dervaig, his native place,\nrent free. MacLean promised this, but the lad said, \u201cWords may be great\ntill it comes to solemn oaths\u201d (_Is m\u00f3r briathran gun lughadh_), made\nhim swear to the deed. The Grizzled Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) set off, and\nabove the Broad Knoll (_Cnoc Leathan_) saw the horseman at the township\nof Hough. When at the Stone of Moaning (_Clach Ochanaich_), on the top\nof Ben Hough, he saw him past Clabbach. He made for the road, near the\npresent Free Church Manse, and lay down, and pretending to be a beggar\nbegan to hunt through his clothes. Where the Little Cairn of the King\u2019s\nSon (_Carnan mhic an Righ_) stands, the horseman came up, was pulled\noff his horse and killed. The lad then waited till his companions came\nup, and proceeded to Grisipol with two on each side. It was dinner\ntime, and his servant the Black Lad (_Gille Dubh_) brought word to\nMacNeill of the party coming. His wife, looking out of an opening, said\none of the party coming looked like her son. MacNeill exclaimed, \u201cWar\ntime is not a time for sleep\u201d (\u201c_Cha-n \u00e0m cadal an cogadh_\u201d), and went\nout to give battle. In the fight the Grizzled Lad (_Gille Riabhach_)\nwas hard pressed by the Black Lad, (_Gille Dubh_), and sideways jumped\nthe stream that runs past Grisipol House at the place still known as\nthe Grizzly Lad\u2019s leap (_Leum a\u2019 Ghille Riabhaich_) to avoid the blow\nof the battle-axe. The axe stuck in the ground, and before it was\nrecovered, the Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_), jumping back, threw off\nthe Black Lad\u2019s (_Gille Dubh_) head. Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) was hard\npressed by MacNeill himself, and both were out in the sea at the foot\nof the stream.\n\n\u201cDisgrace on you MacLean, though it is enough that you are being\ndriven by the son of the skate-eating carl\u201d (\u201c_Miapadh ort, a Mhic\n\u2019illeathainn, \u2019s leoir tha thu gabhail iomain roimh Mhac bodach nan\nsgat_\u201d), said the Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) coming up to them, and\nthen calling to MacNeill, \u201cI am not in a mood to deceive you, there\nthey are behind you\u201d (\u201c_Cha bhi mi \u2019m brath foille dhuit, sin iad agad\nair do ch\u00f9lthaobh_\u201d), and when MacNeill turned round the Grizzly Lad\n(_Gille Riabhach_) threw off his head with the axe. The MacNeills fled\nand were beset and killed in the Hollow of bones (_Slochd-nan-cn\u00e0mh_)\nin the lower part of Grisipol Hill (_Iochdar Beinn Ghrisipol_). They\nthen returned to Grisipol, and MacNeill\u2019s widow, Stout John\u2019s (_Iain\nGarbh\u2019s_) mother, held up her child a suckling (_ciocharan_), that\nStout John (_Iain Garbh_) might spare him and acknowledge his own\nhalf-brother. He was for sparing it, but the Grizzly Lad (_Gille\nRiabhach_) told him to put the needle on the ploughshare (_cuir an\nt-snathad air a\u2019 choltar_). The child was killed.\n\nAn additional if not a different account is:\n\nStout John (_Iain Garbh_) first of Coll, when a boy, was obliged to\nfly from Coll to Dowart, and his mother married MacNeill of Barra.\nWhen he came of age, and was for making good his claim to his native\nisland, in raising the clan he came to a widow\u2019s house in Dervaig. She\nsaid her other sons were away, or they would be at his service, and\nshe had only a big stripling of a grizzly looking lad (_Stiall m\u00f2r de\nghille riabhach_) if he choose to take him. He took him, and it was\nwell for him he did. It is said that this family of whom the Grizzly\nLad (_Gille Riabhach_) was one, and whose services were at MacLean\u2019s\ncommand, were Campbells. MacNeill kept a man with a white horse at\nArinagour, and if the MacLeans were heard to land in the island, he\nwas to ride off at full speed to Breacacha. If anything was wrong the\nmessenger was to turn his head to the horse\u2019s tail when he came in\nsight of Breacacha. The Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) took across the\nhill, where there is now a straight road, and intercepted this rider.\nOn hearing from him that MacNeill was at Grisipol, he suddenly leapt\nbehind him on the horse, and killed him with his dirk. He rode back to\nhis own party, and then slowly to Grisipol where the MacNeills were at\ndinner.\n\nMacLean and his men were faint and weary for want of food. They had not\ntasted anything since they left Mull. They entered a tenant\u2019s house and\nasked food. The man had nothing for them, once he had enough, but since\nthe MacLeans had left the island, he had come to grief and poverty. He\nsaid to Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) his heart warmed to him, he was so\nlike his ancient masters. On learning who they were he gave all the\nmilk he had to them.\n\nAt the fight at Grisipol, the Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) was hard\npressed by MacNeill\u2019s body servant, who was armed with a battle-axe.\nOn the margin of the stream, as the axe was raised to strike down, he\nleaped backwards, and upwards, across the stream, and the place of\nthe leap is still known as the \u2018Grizzly Lad\u2019s leap\u2019 (_Leum a\u2019 Ghille\nRiabhaich_). The axe went into the ground, and before MacNeill\u2019s man\ncould defend himself the Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) jumped back and\nthrew off his head.\n\nStout John (_Iain Garbh_) himself was hard pressed by MacNeill, and\ndriven to the beach. The Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) came to his\nrescue. MacNeill\u2019s wife cried out to Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) her son\nby her first marriage, that his enemies were coming behind him. The\nGrizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_) called out to him to watch his enemies\nin front, and he would watch those behind.\n\nMacNeill and his men were killed. The Grizzly Lad (_Gille Riabhach_)\nsaid he would take to flight and pretend to be one of the MacNeills,\nof whom another party was coming to the rescue from Breacacha. He fled\nand made signals to the MacNeills to fly. They fled to a cave near the\nHidden Anchorage (_Acarsaid fhalaich_) where their bones are still to\nbe seen.\n\nWhen Stout John (_Iain Garbh_) entered Grisipol house, his mother\nstood before him with a child, his half brother, on her shoulder.\nShe told him to look at his young brother smiling at him. Stout John\n(_Iain Garbh_) was for sparing the infant but the Grizzly Lad (_Gille\nRiabhach_) warned him, the child if spared to come of age would avenge\nhis father\u2019s death, and he himself stabbed the infant with his dirk on\nhis mother\u2019s shoulder.\n\n\n\n\nBROWNS OF TIREE.\n\n(_Clann-a-Bhruthain_).\n\n\nThe Browns of Tiree at the present day are called _Brunaich_, sing.\n_Brunach_, evidently a word not of native origin, and likely an\nadaptation of the English Brown. Brown as the name of a colour is an\nEnglish word but not Gaelic, the Gaelic for it being _donn_, hence\nas a clan name many affirm that the Brown of the present day is a\ncorruption or modification of _Bruthainn_ certainly the older name,\nand till very recently, the name given to a sept or portion of the\nBrowns. There are also many who maintain that the oldest form of all is\n_Mac-\u2019ill-duinn_. Other explanations are also put forward in behalf of\nthe origin of the name, but none of them are satisfactorily conclusive.\nThe following story of how the Browns came first to Tiree is a\ntradition as like to be true as any other. It was heard from a native\nof the island, well acquainted with the traditions of his countrymen.\n\nThe wife of MacLean of Dowart was a daughter of the Lord of the\nIsles. Her father on visiting her at Aros had found her destitute of\ntable-linen, and on her being spoken to on the subject, she said that\nthere was no place on the estate where lint could be grown. Her father\nthen gave her the island of Tiree as a good flax-growing country, that\nshe might not be open to that reproach any longer. In this way the\nisland of Tiree remained in the possession of the Dowart family till\nthe forfeiture of the clan towards the end of the seventeenth century.\nThe MacLeans seem to have ruled the island with a rod of iron. There\nis still shewn the hillock called the Bank of the Gallows (_Bac na\nCroiche_), where the man who came in last with his rent at collection\ntime was hanged. A party of strong men called \u2018MacLean\u2019s attributes\u2019\n(_buaidheanan Mhic-\u2019illeathain_) but more correctly oppressors and\nbullies, were kept in the island to overawe the people.\n\nThis wife of Dowart, with her galley and men, was at Croig in Mull,\nawaiting for a passage across to Tiree. When the men were getting the\ngalley in order, a big strong man was observed making his way to the\nboat. His appearance was that of a beggar, with tattered and patched\ngarments (_l\u00f9irichean_). He quietly asked to be allowed a passage with\nthem. The master of the boat gruffly refused, saying, that they would\nnot allow one like him to be in the same boat with their mistress, but\nthe beggar said that his being there would make no difference, and\nasked the favour of getting a passage from her. She gave him permission\nand he seated himself at the end of the boat furthest from her to avoid\ngiving trouble to her. The day was becoming boisterous; it was not\nlong till the master said that the wind was becoming too high, and the\nday unlikely. A heavy sea was shipped wetting the Lady of Dowart, and\nthe beggar said to the master, \u201cCan you not steer better than that?\u201d\nThe master said \u201cCould you do better?\u201d The beggar replied \u201cIt would not\nbe difficult for me to do better than that at any rate. Show me the\ndirection where you wish to go,\u201d and on it being shewn to him he added\n\u201cI think you may go on that you will make land.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you know?\u201d the other said, \u201cit is none of your business to\nspeak here.\u201d\n\nThe Lady then spoke, and said to the beggar, \u201cWill you take the boat\nthere if you get the command of it?\u201d He said he would, and she gave\norders to let him have the command. He sat at the helm and told them\nto shorten sail, and make everything taut, and now, the boat did not\ntake in a thimbleful of water. They made for Tiree, and the place come\nto was the lower part of Hynish, at the furthest extremity of the\nisland. The first place of shelter which the beggar saw, he let the\nboat in there. The little cove is still known as the Port of the Galley\n(_Port-na-Birlinn_) on the south side of _Barradhu_ where the present\ndwellings belonging to the Skerryvore Lighthouse are. The company\nlanded safely, and on parting the Lady of Dowart told the beggar man\nto come to see her at Island House, where the residence of the Dowart\nfamily was at that time, and which is still the proprietory residence\nof the island. The name Island House is derived from its present site\nhaving been formerly surrounded by the water of the fresh-water lake\nnear it. It communicated with the rest of the island by means of a\ndraw-bridge, but there being now no necessity for this safeguard the\nspace between the house and the shore has been filled up, and the\nmoated grange has become like ordinary dwelling houses. The stranger\nwandered about for some time, and then went to the Island House and was\nkindly received. After a day or two, he thought it would be better to\nget a house for himself, and the Lady of Dowart said that she would\ngive him any place that he himself would fix upon. Apparently the\nisland was not much tenanted then, and according to the custom of the\ntime, he got a horse with a pack-saddle on, and on the ridge of the\nsaddle (_cairb na srathrach_), he put the upper and lower stones of a\nquern (_br\u00e0thuinn_), one on each side of the horse, secured by a straw,\nor sea-bent rope, and wherever the rope broke it was lucky to build the\nhouse there. The beggar-man\u2019s quern fell at Sunny Spot (_Grianal_), now\nbetter known as Greenhill. He built a bothy there, and a woman came to\nkeep house for him. By her he had a son, whom he would not acknowledge.\nWhen the child was able to take care of itself she went again to him\nwith it that she might be free. He still refused to receive the child\nand told her to avoid him. She then thought as she had heard from\nhim before where he came from, that she would go with her son to his\nrelatives in Ireland. When she arrived there the child\u2019s grandfather\nreceived her very kindly. She stayed with him till her son had grown to\nmanhood (_gus an robh e \u2019na l\u00e0n duine_). As she was about to return the\ngrandfather said to his grandson, \u201cWhich do you now prefer, to follow\nyour mother, or stay with me?\u201d The lad said he would rather follow his\nmother, and risk his fortune along with her. They came back to Tiree\nagain, and the son would give no rest till they went to see his father.\nWhen they reached the bothy the mother said \u201cyou will surely receive\nyour son to-day though you would not acknowledge him before.\u201d But he\nwould not any more than at first. His son then took hold of him, and\nputting his knee on his breast, said, \u201cbefore you rise from there you\nwill own me as your lawful son, and my mother as your married wife.\u201d\nHe did this and was set free. They then lived together and built a\nhouse, and houses, and increased in stock of cattle. One wild evening\nin spring, when they were folding the cattle, they observed a stout\nlooking man of mean appearance coming from Kilkenneth, still a township\nin that part of the island, and making straight for the house.\n\n\u201cI never saw a bigger man than that beggar,\u201d said the son.\n\n\u201cHe is big,\u201d the father said, \u201cI well know what man it is; he is coming\nafter me, and I will lose my life this night, I killed his brother, but\nit was not my fault, for if I had not killed him, he would have killed\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps you will not lose your life to-night yet,\u201d said the son, \u201cbe\nkind to him, and when he has warmed himself, ask him to go out with us\nto kill a cow, for the night is cold.\u201d\n\nThe stranger came in and was made welcome. The old man then said since\nthere was a stranger, and the night chilly, they better take a cow and\nkill it. They went out and brought in the cow. The young man said to\nthe stranger, \u201cWhich would you rather, take the axe, or hold the cow\u2019s\nhorn?\u201d (_Co dhiu b\u2019 fhearr leis an tuath na \u2019n adharc_). The stranger\nchose to hold the horn, and the blow by which the beast was felled was\nso sudden and unexpected that the stranger fell with it. The youth\nimmediately fell upon him and kept him down, saying, \u201cYou will only\nhave what you can do for yourself, till you tell why you came here\nto-night (_Cha bhi agad ach na bheir thu g\u2019 a chionn gus an aidich thu\n\u2019de thug so an nochd thu_). He told word for word how he came to avenge\nhis brother\u2019s death. (_Dh\u2019 innis e facal air an fhacal mar thainig e\nthoirt mach \u00e9irig a bhr\u00e0thair_).\n\n\u201cYou will not leave this alive\u201d said the young man, \u201cuntil you promise\nnot to molest my father while you remain in the country.\u201d The stranger\nvowed, if released he would not offend anyone. He was allowed to\nremain and they passed the night cheerfully and peacefully (_gu sona\ns\u00e0mhach_). The stranger returned the way he came. The father and son\nthen settled together, and are said according to tradition, to have\nbeen the first Browns in Tiree.\n\nAnother version of the story is, that the first settler in Greenhill\nwas a Campbell, and that he was the maker of those underground\ndwellings (_tighean falaich_) which still exist on that farm; curious\nhabitations, which are unlike any building now in use, and worthy of\ncloser examination by antiquarians. It is said that there are buildings\nwith similar entrances exposed by sand blowing and covered with a great\ndepth of earth in Tra-vi at the distance of two miles or more further\nsouth.\n\nThere is a precipice on the west side of Kenavara hill called\nMac-a-Bhriuthainn\u2019s leap (_Leum Mhic-a-bhriuthainn_) which one of this\nsept of Browns is said to have jumped across backwards, and which no\none has since jumped either backwards or forwards. The one who took\nthe jump is said to have been chased by a wild ox, which pushed him\nover the hill, and if he had not been a man of steady eye and limb, the\nfall would have ended in sure destruction. The place where he leapt\nwas a ledge in the face of a precipice where the slightest overbalance\nor weakness, would have precipitated him several hundred feet into a\ndangerous and deep sea. No trained tightrope dancer ever required more\nsureness of eye and limb than must have been brought into action in\nthis leap.\n\nIn the top of the same hill (Kenavara) there is a well, Briuthainn\u2019s\nWell (_Tobar Mhic-a-Bhriuthainn_), which is said to have its name from\nthe first who came to the island having, in his wanderings, subsisted\non its water and wild water-cress.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF MAC-AN-UIDHIR.\n\n\nThe name Mac-an-Uidhir is not borne by any person now living, so far\nas the writer is aware. Like many other names it may have been changed\ninto MacDonald, or some other clan-name. When a person changed his name\nto that of some other clan, or powerful chief, he was said to accept\nthe name and clanship (_Ainm \u2019sa chinneadhdas_). This name must, at\none time, however, have been common. The ford between Benbecula and\nSouth Uist is called \u201cThe ford of the daughter of Euar\u201d (_Faoghail Nic\nan Uidhir_), and Nic-an-Uidhir is also named by the Lochnell bard as a\nsister of Headless Stocking (_Cas-a\u2019-Mhogain_), a well-known witch, who\nlived so long ago as when Ossian the poet was a boy (_giullan_).\n\n \u201cDid ever you hear mention\n Of Rough Foot-gear daughter of Euar?\n She was young in Glenforsa,\n When Ossian was a young boy;\n She was going about as a slip of a girl\n With Headless Stocking her sister.\n I am a wretched creature after them\n Not knowing what became of them.\u201d\n\n (\u201cAn cuala sibhse riamh iomradh\n Mu Chaiseart Gharbh, Nic an Uidhir?\n Bha i \u00f2g an Gleann Forsa\n Nar bha Oisean \u2019na ghiullan;\n Bha i falbh \u2019s i \u2019na proitseach\n Le Cas-a\u2019-Mhogain a piuthar.\n \u2019S mise an truaghan \u2019nan d\u00e9igh\n \u2019S gun fhios gu de thainig riu.\u201d)\n\nThe person of whom the following story is told, lived at Hynish in\nthe island of Tiree, and had become engaged to a young woman in the\nneighbourhood. Between the espousal and marriage, the engaged couple\nwent with a party of friends for a sail to Heisker, near Canna.\nThe men of the party went ashore seal-hunting and one of the young\nwoman\u2019s disappointed suitors took advantage of the opportunity to get\nMac-an-Uidhir left behind, and coming back to the boat told that the\nintending bridegroom had been drowned. By this lie he hoped to make the\nbride despair of seeing her intended any more, and by renewing his own\nattentions, to get her to consent to accept himself. She, however, not\nbelieving that he was dead, said that she would marry no one for a year\nand a day from the date of his alleged drowning. [Heisker means high\nrock,[6] and this one, near the island of Canna, is called the High\nRock of Windlestraws (_Heisgeir nan Cuiseag_). It has no one living on\nit. At the present day a few young cattle are grazed upon it, and a\nboat comes for them in spring from Canna, which lies to the N.E. It is\nnot otherwise visited except once or twice a year by seal-hunters.]\n\nAt first, Mac-an-Uidhir subsisted on birds and fish eaten raw; after\nhis powder and shot were expended, he had to keep himself alive upon\nwhelks, or whatever he could get along the shore, principally whelks.\nThis sort of shellfish is said to keep a person alive though he should\nhave no other means of subsistence, till he becomes as black as the\nshield or wing of the whelk (_co dubh ri sgiath faochaig_). The\nabandoned and castaway youth lived in this way for three quarters of a\nyear; but at last he got away from the islet, and for the last three\nmonths of the year was making his way home. He arrived on the night\non which the marriage of his intended to his unscrupulous rival was\nto take place. He went to the house of his foster-mother, who did not\nknow him, his appearance through his privations having becoming so much\nchanged, and, he having asked to be allowed to remain for the night,\nshe said she was alone, and could not let a stranger like him stay. She\nalso told of the festivities in the neighbourhood, and said that he had\nbetter pass the night there. He asked the occasion of the festivities:\nshe told him how her foster-son had been drowned, and supplanted, and\nthat this was the night of his rival\u2019s marriage, saying, \u201cIf they are\nhappy I am sad, another one being in the place of my foster-son\u201d (_Ma\ntha iadsan subhach tha mise dubhach dheth, fear eile bhi dol an \u00e0ite\nmo dhalta_). She then added, \u201cthis time last year, he perished when he\nwent with a party to hunt seals in Heisker; his intended vowed that she\nwould not marry for a year, in the hope of his returning, as she had\nnot been quite satisfied that he had been drowned, and to-night the\ntime is expired.\u201d \u201cLet us go\u201d he said, \u201cto see them.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may go,\u201d she replied, \u201cbut they are near enough to me as it is.\u201d\nHe then asked her if she did not recognise him, and told who he was,\nbut she refused to believe him, saying her dear child (_mo ghr\u00e0dh_)\ncould not be so much altered in the time. He put the matter out of\nquestion by asking if she would know her own handiwork, and shewing\nwhat was left of the hose (_osain_) she had given him, to convince her.\nWhen she saw the labour of her own hands (_saothair a l\u00e0mh fh\u00e9in_),\nshe joyfully welcomed him, and went with him where the marriage party\nwere. Those who were there were surprised to see her arrival, knowing\nthe sad state in which she was at this time of year, through the loss\nof her foster-child. They, however, received the stranger as well as\nherself with the utmost kindness. The bride made the remark, when the\nstranger turned his back, that he was like Mac an Uidhir but when his\nface was towards her he appeared like a stranger whom she had never\nseen before; but that her heart warmed towards him. The custom was then\ngone through of the stranger drinking out of the bride\u2019s glass, and\nMac-an-Uidhir when doing this, slipped a ring into the glass, which,\nshe immediately recognised as that of her first lover. The whole matter\nwas then upset, and the party for whom the preparations were made were\ndispersed, and the bride followed the fortunes of her first lover.\n\nOf a song made by the foster-mother to Mac-an-Uidhir, when he was\nreported to have been drowned, and was looked upon as dead, the\nfollowing verses have been preserved. In the translation the literal\nwords are given, but no attempt is made at reducing them to the rhyme\nwhich is essential in English poetry.\n\n \u201cThou good son of Euar\n Of generous and noble heart\n At one time little I thought\n It would ever happen\n That you would be drowned\n And your boat return empty\n While its irons would last\n And repair was not needed\n While its stern-post stood,\n Its sides and prow,\n While yards would hold out,\n Or a fragment of its oak.\n Your well ordered new plaid\n Is on the surface of the grey waves\n Your head is the sport of the little gull\n And your side of the big gull;\n Your sister is without brother\n And your mother without son\n Your bride without husband\n And poor me without god-son.\u201d\n\n Ach a dheagh Mhic an Uidhir\n \u2019G an robh an cridhe fial farsuinn\n Bha mi uair \u2019s beag shaoil mi\n Gu \u2019m faodadh sid tachairt\n Gu \u2019m biodh tus\u2019 air do bh\u00e0thadh\n \u2019S do bh\u00e0ta tighinn dachaidh\n Fhad \u2019s a mhaireadh a h-iaruinn\n \u2019S nach iarradh i calcadh\n Th\u00f9g horoinn O.\n\n Fhad \u2019s a mhaireadh a h-iaruinn\n \u2019S nach iarradh i calcadh\n Fhad \u2019s a mhaireadh a h-earluinn\n Agus t\u00e0thadh \u2019s a saidhean\n Fhad \u2019s a mhaireadh a slatan\n Agus bloidhean d\u2019a darach\n Th\u00f9g horoinn O.\n\n Fhad \u2019s a mhaireadh a slatan\n \u2019S bloidhean d\u2019a darach:\n Tha do bhreacan \u00f9r uallach\n Air uachdar nan glas thonn\n \u2019S fuil do chinn aig an fhaoilinn\n \u2019S fuil do thaobh aig an fharspaig\n Th\u00f9g horoinn O.\n\n \u2019S fuil do chinn aig an fhaoilinn\n \u2019S fhuil do thaobh aig an fharspaig:\n Tha do phiuthar gun bhr\u00e0thair\n \u2019S do mh\u00e0thair gun mhac dheth\n Do bhean \u00f2g \u2019s i gun ch\u00e9ile\n \u2019S truagh mi fh\u00e9in dheth gun dalta.\n Th\u00f9g horoinn O.\n\nThere is quite a modern instance, perhaps about the beginning of this\ncentury, of a native of the islet of Ulva, near Mull, having been\ndriven during a snowstorm to _Heisgeir-nan-Cuiseag_ (High Rock of\nWindlestraws) and passing the winter there alone till he was taken off\nearly in the following summer. He, too, must have subsisted on whelks\nand what he could get along the shore. He was going home from Tiree.\n\nAnxious to be at home at the New-year O.S., he, with a companion,\nleft Tiree, and before going far a snowstorm came on, and the wind\nincreased in violence till they were driven they did not know where.\nThe companion got benumbed and died in the boat. It could only be said\nby the survivor that they passed very high rocks on some island.\n\nThe boat was cast ashore on Heisker, and the poor man left in it had to\npass the winter as best he could, without food or shelter.\n\nThe islet is too distant from Canna for him to have been observed by\nany signal he could make.\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[6] The islet near North Uist, on which the Mona Light house is built,\nis called the High Rock of the Monks, _Heisgeir nam Manach_.\n\n\n\n\nSTEEPING THE WITHIES.\n\n\nThere is an expression in Gaelic \u201cIt is time to steep the withies\u201d\n(\u201c_Tha \u2019n t-\u00e0m bhi bogadh nan gad_\u201d), meaning, it is time for one to\nleave or make his escape from the company he is in. This expression\nis said to have arisen in this way. A little undersized man and good\narcher was sitting on a stool by his own fireside, when enemies intent\non securing his person came in to the house. He sat quietly, but\nhis wife going backwards and forwards through the house, and being\nready-witted, when she understood the character of the intruders,\ngave a slap on the ear to her husband saying, as if he were merely\nthe herd boy, \u201cIt is time to steep the withies\u201d (\u201c_Tha \u2019n t-\u00e0m bhi\nbogadh nan gad_\u201d). He immediately left the house, and she managed to\nput his bow and arrows out at the window. He having stationed himself\nin a favourable locality did not allow a single one of his enemies to\nleave the house without killing them with his arrows, one by one as\nthey came out at the door. Regarding the truth of this story it is\nnoticeable, that uniformly throughout the Highlands the expression, \u201cIt\nis time to steep the withies\u201d (\u201c_Tha \u2019n t-\u00e0m bhi bogadh nan gad_\u201d),\nmeans, not that it is time to prepare for action, but that it is time\nfor one to make himself scarce. A story of the same kind is told of\nKing Alfred the Great, that he escaped from his enemies in somewhat\nthe same way. In olden times the harnessing of animals for carrying\nburdens, ploughing, etc., was done by means of withies made of willow,\nsea-bent,[7] or other accessible material, iron being scarce and\ndifficult to procure, and these withies had to be steeped before work\nwith them was commenced. It required a good deal of acquaintance with\nthe work before the horse was fully equipped with pack-saddle, creels,\nand other equipments for which withies were necessary, and the only\nmeans available. The names of some of these withies still survive _e.\ng._ the _Gad-tarraich_ is the Gaelic name still in use, although the\nmaterial is leather, and not withies, to denote a belly-band.\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[7] Tough Grass growing by the shore.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE JOHN OF THE WHITE BAG.\n\n(_IAIN BEAG A\u2019 BHUILG BHAIN_).\n\n\nThis doughty little archer was attached to the family of the\nMacLachlans of _Coruanain_, or little Lamb-dell, near Fort-William, on\nthe borders of Inverness-shire and Argyleshire. He derived his name\nfrom his carrying a white bag of arrows, which he was very skilful in\nthe use of. In far off and unsettled times, when a foray or _creach_\nwas being taken from _Coruanain_, one of the raiders, having met\nlittle John, said, \u201cLittle John of the White Bag, I will mount the\nhill side quicker than you\u201d (_Iain bhig a\u2019 Bhuilg Bh\u00e0in, bheir mise am\nfireach dhiot_). In a struggle it is always an advantage, even when\nother things are even, to have the higher position on a hill side.\nLittle John replied, \u201cThe hand of your father and grandfather be over\nyou, White Stirk, I will put the Brankes (or Iron Gag) on you (\u201d_L\u00e0mh\nd\u2019 athair \u2019s do sheanair ort, a Ghamhain Bh\u00e0in cuiridh mise biorach\nort_\u201c). The _biorach_, branker, was a spiked iron gag, or instrument\nset with pointed iron pins, fixed round the head of calves to keep\nthem from sucking. The expression \u201cThe hand, &c., be over you\u201d was a\ncommon expression, meaning much the same as the English \u201cLook out,\u201d\nor \u201cTake care of yourself.\u201d Saying this, Little John let fly an arrow\nwhich struck the other in the forehead, toppled him over, and put an\nend to the discussion.\n\n\n\n\nTHE KILLING OF BIG ANGUS OF ARDNAMURCHAN.\n\n(_AONGHAS MOR MAC\u2019ILL\u2019-EOIN_), BIG ANGUS, SON OF JOHN, AT COR-OSPUINN\nIN MORVEN.\n\n\nIn Ardnamurchan, where the district of Kintra commences, there is a\nstreamlet that falls into Loch-Moidart, which lies along the north of\nArdnamurchan, called _Faoghail Dh\u00f2mhnuill Chonalaich_. This streamlet\nderives its name from Donald MacDonald, or MacConnell, having been\nslain there under the following circumstances. Tradition is uniform\nas to the incident which gave its name to the place, and as to the\ncircumstances under which the murder was committed. Donald was the\nheir to the chieftainship of Ardnamurchan, but his uncle, Big Angus,\nwishing to secure the estate for himself, waylaid his nephew at the\nford mentioned, which is very difficult to jump across when the tide\nis in, as he was on his way to be married to a daughter of the then\nChief of Lochiel. While Donald was jumping across the ford, one of\nBig Angus\u2019s men shot an arrow in his face, so that when he touched\nthe ground on the other side, he staggered and reeled. Before he fell\nprostrate Big Angus said that he would wonder if his nephew would dance\nas merrily at his marriage with the daughter of the One-eyed Chief of\nmeat-broth (_saoil an dannsadh tu co cridheil sin air banais nighean\nCham-na-eanraich_). The meaning of this nick-name given to the Chief of\nLochiel is a covert allusion to the cattle-lifting of Lochiel. Before\nthe introduction of tea, extract of meat was largely made use of, and\neven meal was mixed with it for those in strong health, but weak, and\neven chicken broth, was given to those who were in delicate health.\nSome say that the Chief referred to was _Ailein nan Creach_ (Allan the\nCattle-lifter), who derived his name from the number of cattle-spoils\nthat he lifted. Lochaber being a wild and remote district was not\nunnaturally a place to which cattle forays were taken when people\nsought \u201cthe beeves that made the broth\u201d in other localities.\n\nIn Gregory\u2019s History of the Western Islands _D\u00f2mhnull Conalach_ is\ncalled John, probably from the Chiefs of Ardnamurchan being known as\nMac-\u2019ic-Iain, the son of the son of John, and mention is made of his\nmurder. Several families who have in recent times come to Coll from\nArdnamurchan call themselves Johnstones.\n\nBig Angus himself had a house near Strontian strongly fortified\naccording to the ideas of those days. It was surrounded by a deep ditch\n(_Tigh daingean dige_) and what is now called a moated Grange. On\nhearing that Lochiel with a strong band of followers was on his way to\navenge the death of the young Chief of Ardnamurchan, Big Angus fled,\nbut he was closely pursued by the avengers. Having come to Cor-ospuinn\nin Morven he looked behind him, when the sun was rising, to see if his\npursuers were coming. Lifting his helmet and shading his eyes with his\nhand when looking intently sunwards, one of the pursuers, a little\nman, remarked, \u201cWould not this be a good opportunity for killing\nhim?\u201d Another answered, \u201cIt is not your trifling hand that would slay\nthe powerful man.\u201d (_Cha \u2019n i do l\u00e0mh leibideach a leagadh an duine\nfoghainteach_). The little man replied, \u201cWould not an arrow do it\u201d\n(_Nach deanadh saighead e_), saying this, he launched an arrow which\nstruck Big Angus in the forehead and killed him.\n\n * * * * *\n\n NOTES:\n\nBIG ANGUS OF ARDNAMURCHAN.\n\n(_Aonghas m\u00f3r Mac \u2019ic Eoin_)\n\n The incidents of this story occurred about 1596. The house of the\n redoubtable Angus was at _Ath na h-\u00e9ilde_ (Ford of the Hind (deer)),\n opposite _Druim-nan-torran_ (The Ridge of Knolls), near _Sr\u00f2n an\n t-s\u00ecthean_, Strontian, the Promontory of the Fairy Dwelling. He had\n a bad wife, who was continually urging him to make himself Chief of\n the clan, and it was at her instigation that he waylaid his nephew at\n Kintra. On hearing that the Chief was to be married to the daughter\n of Lochiel, his wife warned big Angus that he would yet be reduced to\n draw the peat creels (_tarruing nan cliabh m\u00f2ine_) for his nephew.\n Angus was the first to be at Kintra, at the river, and the first to\n cross. The guests were assembled at Lochiel for the marriage of Donald\n MacDonald, when word was brought of his having been slain. Immediately\n the assembled guests with their followers set off to take vengeance,\n and, finding Big Angus\u2019s house deserted, they tied tinder (_spong_[8])\n to an arrow and set the moated house on fire. The place where Angus\n was slain in Morven is still called _Leac na Saighead_ (The Ledge\n of the Arrow), and the archer was _Iain Dubh Beag Innse-ruith_\n (Little Black John of Inch-rui). Big Dugald MacDonald (_Dughal m\u00f2r\n MacRaonuil_), of Morar had his hand similarly fastened by an arrow to\n his forehead.\n\n[8] Amadon--made from a fungus. A.C.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAST CATTLE RAID IN TIREE.\n\n\nIt seems to have been a kind of raid or robbery to which the island of\nTiree was particularly liable. Plunderers and pirates, having chosen\na suitable day when the seas about the island were at rest, and the\ncattle could be easily got on board the galley, or _birlinn_, carried\non depredations far and wide on the island. Once the cattle were got\nby them on board the galley, they looked upon themselves as safe from\npursuit.\n\nThere are two traditions in existence of the island having been so\nvisited, and their fate will illustrate the manner in which, in\nunsettled times, such expeditions were conducted. The last foray of the\nkind was not successful, but the cattle and sheep were collected for\ntaking away. The people got warning in time, and the cattle-lifters had\nto make their escape, leaving their booty behind them.\n\nThe last successful foray was in the days of the Tanister of Torloisk,\nand seems to have been only sometime previous to or about the \u201945.\nThe account which tradition gives of it is that the Tanister, or\nsecond heir (_proximus haeres_), of Torloisk in Mull was called Malise\nMacLean. His first name is somewhat peculiar, and not common among\nthe MacLeans or any other West Highland clan, and was given to him in\nthis manner. The heir of Torloisk was a promising healthy boy, but the\nsucceeding children of the then chief were dying young. The Chief was\nthen advised by the sages of his race to give to his child the name of\nthe first person whom he met on the way to have the child baptized.\nThe first person encountered was a poor beggar man who had the name\nof Malise. A name given in this way was known as _ainm rathaid_, or\nroad name, and was deemed as proof against evil. The father gave this\nname to the child who survived and became Tanister. Being without the\nprospect of an estate the Tanister thought he would come to Tiree, and\npiece by piece get an estate for himself. He came to have the half,\nthird, or other share of the town-ship of _Baile-meadhonach_, now\ncalled Middleton, in Tiree, and married, and his descendants are still\nknown.\n\nOne day, a galley, with sixteen men on board (_B\u00ecrlinn \u2019s sea fir\ndheug_), came to Soraba beach. The men landed and collected every live\nanimal that was about the place. At the time, the Tanister happened\nto be fishing at the rocks in Kenavara Hill, and on coming home soon\nafter and hearing what had been done, he called to his neighbours\nasking them what they meant to do, were they going with him to turn\nthe raid (_creach_). They all refused for fear of being killed, as the\nfreebooters were a strong party. He said, \u201cI will not do that; I prefer\nto fall in the attempt (_tuiteam \u2019s an oidhirp_), rather than let my\ncattle be taken.\u201d He took with him his sword and followed the spoilers.\nWhen he came to the end of the pathway and within sight of the galley,\nhe stood before the creach. The freebooters told him to leave the road\nor he would feel the consequences (_Gu \u2019m biodh a\u2019 bhuil dha_). He\nanswered, \u201cI will not leave, and the consequences will be to you, until\nI get my own.\u201d He got this as he seemed determined, and when he had\ngot it, he asked also the cow of a poor woman from the same township\nas himself, and having got this also, he said they might do with the\nrest what they liked. The plan of the robbers was to drive the cattle\nto the beach, where the galley was, and throwing them down and tying\ntheir forelegs together (_ceangal nan ceithir chaoil_), place them on\nbearers, or planks, and put them in the boat. When they had done so,\nthey made off, and no one knew whence they had come or whither they\nwent. This was the last successful raid of the kind raised in Tiree.\n\nSubsequent to this creach, and in the time of Mr. Charles Campbell\nbeing Minister of Tiree, several galleys, or _b\u00ecrlinnean_, each with\nits complement of men, and in addition each with a pretending minister\nand his man, made their appearance on the coast of Tiree. In those\ndays every minister took his man along with him, and in this case\neach minister but one took his man from the boat. Wandering open-air\npreachers were in those times called hillock ministers (_ministearan\nnan cnoc_), and the one to whom the story refers was to officiate at\n_Ceathramh Mhurdat_, or Fourth Part, called Murdat, now embraced in the\nfarm of Hough,[9] and which was then thickly populated. Having sent due\nintimation round of his service, most of the people were drawn to hear\nhim. His man was left behind to give him warning of any disturbance of\nthe expedition which might occur. After he had been speaking for some\ntime his man came in. The islanders had become aware of the nature of\nthe invasion. The sheep and the horses were gathered at the back of the\nhill of Hough, and a band of the cattle-lifters had surrounded them for\nto drive them to the shore. A number who had not got to the preaching\nhad observed this, and following them, took the sheep and horses from\nthem. Immediately, the minister\u2019s man ran with all possible speed to\nwarn the preacher at Murdat. When he came to where the sermon was,\nthe preacher concluded, and handing the book to his man, venturing to\nthink that the people would not understand him, said, as if reading\na line, \u201cMacLellan, beloved friend, where did you leave the _Shockum\nsho?_\u201d--_i.e._, the booty. (_Mhac-\u2019ill-fhaolain, a dhuine ghaolaich,\nc\u2019 \u00e0ite an d\u2019 fh\u00e0g thu an \u2019seogam seoth\u2019?_). The incomer taking the\nbook, and as if intoning the psalm, said, \u201cMatters are worse than we\nthought; they have taken from us the plaintive bleaters\u201d (_\u2019s miosa tha\nna mar a shaoil: thug iad uainn an \u2019cirri-m\u00e8h\u2019_): _cirri-m\u00e8h_ is but\nan imitation of the bleating of sheep, and is found used in different\nlocalities as a pet or ludicrous name for sheep.\n\nThe people sang along with the precentor. They did not know but that\nthe words may have been part of the psalm, when one who was smarter and\nmore ready-witted than the rest got up and said, \u201cWe have been long\nenough here, these men are robbers, and not ministers.\u201d The service\nwas concluded, the people going to look after their cattle, and the\nminister and his man making their way with all speed to where the\ngalleys lay. Before the people could overtake them, they got on board\nand made off, leaving their booty behind, and glad to escape with their\nlives.\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[9] Pronounced Hoch.\n\n\n\n\nLOCHBUIE\u2019S TWO HERDSMEN.\n\n\nThis tale was written down as it was told by Donald Cameron, R\u00f9dhaig,\nTiree, more than twenty-five years ago, and to whose happy and\nretentive gift of memory it is a pleasure to recur. He had a most\nextensive stock of old lore, and along with it much readiness and\nwillingness to communicate what he knew. In this the ludicrous element\nis natural, and the events seem to follow each other as a matter of\ncourse, so that the tale, so far as probability is concerned, may be\ntrue enough. It is one of the few tales to which a date is attached,\nand so far as history can be consulted the state of the country at\nthat time makes it probable enough. Loch Buie is a district lying to\nthe South of the Island of Mull, pleasantly situated. The tale runs as\nfollows:--\n\nIn 1602 Lochbuie had two herdsmen, and the wife of one herdsman went\nto the house of the other herdsman. The housewife was in before her,\nand had a pot on the fire. \u201cWhat have you in the pot?\u201d said the one who\ncame in. \u201cWell there it is,\u201d she said, \u201ca drop of _brochan_ which the\ngoodman will have with his dinner.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat kind of _brochan_ is it?\u201d said the one who came in.\n\n\u201cIt is _dubh-bhrochan_,\u201d (see note 1) said the one who was in.\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t he,\u201d said she, \u201ca poor man! Are you not giving him anything but\nthat? I have been for so long a time under the Laird of Loch Buie, and\nI have not drank _brochan_ without a grain of beef or something in it.\nDon\u2019t you think it is but a small thing for the Laird of Loch Buie\nthough we should get an ox every year. Little he would miss it. I will\nsend over my husband to-night, and you will bring home one of the oxen.\u201d\n\nWhen night came she sent him over. The wife then sent the other away.\nThe one said, \u201cyou will steal the ox from the fold, and you will bring\nit to me, and we will be free; I will swear that I did not take it from\nthe fold, and you will swear that you did not take it home.\u201d\n\nThe two herdsmen went away. In those days they hanged a man, when\nhe did harm, without waiting for law or sentence, and at this time\nLochbuie had hanged a man in the wood. The herdsmen went and kindled a\nfire near a tree in the wood as a signal to the one who went to steal.\nOne sat at the fire, and the other went to steal the ox.\n\nThe same night a number of gentlemen were in the mansion (2) at Loch\nBuie. They began laying wagers with Lochbuie that there was not one in\nthe house who would take the shoe off the man who had been hanged that\nday. Lochbuie laid a wager that there was. He called up his big lad\nMacFadyen (see note 3), and said to him was he going to let the wager\ngo against him. The big lad asked what the wager was about. He said to\nhim that they were maintaining that there was no one in his court who\ncould take the shoe off the one who had been hanged that day. MacFadyen\nsaid he would take off him the shoe and bring it to them where they\nwere.\n\nMacFadyen went on his way. When he reached, he looked and saw the man\nwho had been hanged warming himself at a fire. He did not go farther\non, but returned in haste. When he came they asked him if he had the\nshoe. He told them he had not, for that yon one was with a withy basket\nof peats before him, warming himself. \u201cWe knew ourselves,\u201d said the\ngentlemen, \u201cthat you had only cowards.\u201d\n\nThe lameter, who was over, said, \u201cIt is a wrong thing you are doing in\nallowing him to lose the wager. If I had the use of my feet, I would go\nand take his leg off as well as his shoe before I would let Lochbuie\nlose the wager.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome you here,\u201d said the big lad, \u201cand I will put a pair of feet that\nyou never had the like of under you.\u201d He put the lameter round his\nneck (lit. the bone of his neck), and off he went. When they came in\nsight of the man who was warming himself the lameter sought to return.\nMacFadyen said they would not return. They went nearer to the man who\nwas warming himself. The one that was at the fire lifted his head and\nobserved them coming. He thought it was his own companion, the one who\nhad gone to steal the ox, who was come. He spoke and said, \u201cHave you\ncome?\u201d \u201cI have,\u201d said MacFadyen. \u201cAnd have you got it?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d said\nMacFadyen. \u201cAnd is it fat?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhether he is fat or lean, there he is to you,\u201d and he threw the\nlameter on to the fire.\n\nMacFadyen took to his heels (lit. put on soles) and fled as fast as\never he did. Off went the lameter after him. He put the four oars on\nfor making his escape. The one at the fire rose, thinking there were\nsome who had come to pry upon himself, and that he was now caught. He\nwent after the lameter to make his excuses to the Laird of Loch Buie.\nThe lameter was observing him coming after him, feeling quite sure\nthat it was the one who had been hanged.\n\nMacFadyen reached, and they asked him if he had taken the shoe off\nthe man. He said they did not; that he asked him if the lameter was\nfat, and that he was sure he had him eaten up before now. The lameter\ncame, and that cry in his head for to let him in, for that yon one was\ncoming. He was let in. The moment this was done, the one who had been\non the gallows knocked at the door, to let him in. Lochbuie said he\nwould not.\n\n Editor\u2019s Note:\n\n The translation of lines 6 and 7 renders the Gaelic idiom exactly.\n Translated more freely into English it would run, \u201cand the lameter\n came, and with yon terrified cry demanded admittance, saying that the\n hanged man was coming after him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am your own herdsman.\u201d They now let him in. He then began to tell\nhow he and the other herdsman went to steal the ox, and that he thought\nit was the other herdsman who had returned, and it was that made him\nask if he was fat. Lochbuie and his guests had much sport and merriment\nover this all night. They kept the herdsman till it was late on in the\nnight telling them how it happened to him.\n\nThe one who went to steal the ox now came back and reached the tree\nwhere he left the other herdsman, but found no one. He began to search\nup and down, and became aware of the one dangling from the tree.\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d said he, \u201cyou have been hanged since I went away, and I will be\nto-morrow in the same plight that you are in. It has been an ill-guided\nobject, and the tempting of women that sent us on the journey.\u201d\n\nHe then went over and took the man off the tree to take him home. He\nwent away with him and never got the like, going through hill, and\nthrough mud and dirt, till he came to the house of the other woman. He\nknocked at the door. The wife rose and let him in.\n\n\u201cHow have things happened with you?\u201d \u201cNever you mind, whatever; but,\nalas! he has been hanged since we went away.\u201d\n\nThe wife took to roaring and crying.\n\n\u201cDo not say a word,\u201d he said, \u201cor else you and I will be hanged\nto-morrow. We will bury him in the garden, and no one will ever know\nabout it. And now,\u201d he said, \u201cI will be returning to my own house.\u201d\n\nThe one that was in Loch Buie thought it was time for him now to go\nhome. He knocked at his own door. His wife did not say a word. He then\ncalled out to be let in.\n\n\u201cI will not,\u201d said the wife, \u201cfor you have been hanged, and you will\nnever get in here.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not yet been hanged,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cBe that as it may to you,\u201d she said, \u201cyou will never come here.\u201d\n\nThe advice he gave himself was to go to the house of the other\nherdsman. He called out at that one\u2019s door to let him in.\n\n\u201cYou will not come in here. I got enough carrying you home on my back,\nand you after being hanged.\u201d\n\nThere was a large window at the end of the house. He went in at the\nwindow. \u201cGet up,\u201d he said, \u201cand get a light, and you will see that I\nhave not been hanged any more than yourself.\u201d When he saw who he had,\nhe kept him till morning, till day came. They then talked together,\ntelling each other what had happened to them on both sides, and thought\nthey would go to Lochbuie, and tell him all that occurred to them. When\nLochbuie heard their story, there was not a year after that but he gave\neach of them an ox and a boll of meal.\n\n\n\n\nLOCHABUIDHE \u2019S A DHA BHUACHAILLE.\n\n\nAnn an 1602 bha d\u00e0 bhuachaille aig Lochabuidhe, \u2019s th\u00e0inig bean an\ndarna buachaille gu tigh a\u2019 bhuachaille eile; agus bean-an-tighe\nstigh roimpe \u2019s poit aice air teine; \u201cD\u00e9 th\u2019 agaibh anns a\u2019 ph\u00f2it?\u201d\nars\u2019 an t\u00e9 a th\u00e0inig a stigh. \u201cMa ta,\u201d ars\u2019 ise, \u201cdeur de bhrochan\na bhios aig an duine le \u2019dh\u00ecnneir,\u201d \u201c\u2019D\u00e9,\u201d ars\u2019 an t\u00e9 a th\u00e0inig a\nstigh, \u201can se\u00f2rsa brochain a th\u2019 ann?\u201d \u201cTha,\u201d ars\u2019 an t\u00e9 a bha stigh,\n\u201cdubh-bhrochan.\u201d[10] \u201cNach esan,\u201d ars\u2019 ise, \u201can duine truagh? Nach\n\u2019eil thu \u2019toirt da dad ach sin? Tha mise an uiread so de \u00f9ine fuidh\nthighearna Lochabuidhe, \u2019s cha d\u2019 \u00f2l mi brochan gun fhionnan-fe\u00f2la\nno rud-eiginn ann. Saoil nach beag do thighearna Lochabuidhe, ged a\ngheibheamaide damh \u2019s a\u2019 bhliadhna; nach beag a dh\u2019 ionndrainneadh\ne e? Cuiridh mise an duine agam fh\u00e9in a nall an nochd \u2019s bheir sibh\ndhachaigh fear de na daimh.\u201d\n\n\u2019N uair th\u00e0inig an oidhche chuir i nall e. Chuir a\u2019 bhean an so air\nfalbh an duin\u2019 eile. Thuirt an darna fear, \u201cGoididh tusa an damh\nthar na buaile, \u2019s bheir thu thugamsa e, agus bithidh sinn saor;\nmionnaichidh mise nach d\u2019 thug mi thar na buaile e, \u2019s mionnaichidh\ntusa nach d\u2019 thug thu dhachaigh e.\u201d\n\nDh\u2019 fhalbh an d\u00e0 bhuachaille. \u2019S an \u00e0m sin chrochadh iad duine tra\n\u2019dheanadh e cron, gun fheitheamh ri lagh no binn; ach anns na lathan\nbha tighearna Lochabuidhe an d\u00e9igh duine \u2019chrochadh stigh \u2019s a\u2019\nchoille. Dh\u2019 fhalbh iadsan \u2019s dh\u2019 fhadaidh iad teine aig craoibh \u2019s a\u2019\nchoille, mar chomharradh do \u2019n fhear a chaidh a ghoid. Shuidh fear aig\nan teine \u2019s chaidh am fear eile a ghoid an daimh. Air an oidhche fh\u00e9in\nbha m\u00f2ran de dhaoin\u2019-uaisle \u2019s a\u2019 Mheigh[11] aig tighearna Lochabuidhe.\nBhuail iad air cur gheall ri tighearna Lochabuidhe nach robh duine \u2019s\nan tigh aige a bheireadh a\u2019 bhr\u00f2g thar an fhir a chaidh chrochadh an\ndiugh. Chuir tighearna Lochabuidhe geall ri\u00f9-san gu \u2019n robh. Ghlaodh e\nnuas air a ghille mh\u00f2r Mac Phaidean.[12] Thuirt e ris an robh e brath\nan geall a leigeadh air. Dh\u2019 fharraid an gille m\u00f2r c\u2019 ar son a bha \u2019n\ngeall. Thuirt e ris, gu \u2019n robh iad ag r\u00e0dh nach robh duine \u2019n a ch\u00f9irt\na bheireadh a\u2019 bhr\u00f2g thar an fhir a chaidh chrochadh an diugh. Thuirt\nMac Phaidean gu \u2019n tugadh esan dheth a\u2019 bhr\u00f2g \u2019s gu \u2019n tugadh e thuga\nann an sud i.\n\nDh\u2019 fhalbh Mac Phaidean air a thurus. \u2019Nuair a r\u00e0inig e sheall e \u2019s\nchunnaic e \u2019m fear a chaidh chrochadh \u2019deanamh a gharaidh. Cha deach\ne na b\u2019 fhaid\u2019 air aghaidh, \u2019s thill e le cabhaig. \u2019Nuair a r\u00e0inig e\nthuirt iad ris, an robh a\u2019 bhr\u00f2g aige. Thuirt e riu nach robh, gur\nh-ann a bha \u2019m fear ud \u2019s l\u00e0n cl\u00e9ibh de mh\u00f2ine air a bhialthaobh \u2019s e\n\u2019deanamh a gharaidh. \u201cDh\u2019 aithnich sinn-fh\u00e9in,\u201d ars\u2019 na daoin\u2019-uaisle,\n\u201cnach robh agad ach an gealtair.\u201d Thuirt an cl\u00e0raineach[13] a bha\nthall, \u201cIs ce\u00e0rr an rud a tha thu \u2019deanamh, an geall a leigeadh air;\nna \u2019m biodh comas nan cas agam-fh\u00e9in dh\u2019 fhalbhainn \u2019s bheirinn a\u2019\nchas dheth co math ris a\u2019 bhr\u00f2ig mu \u2019n leiginn an geall air tighearna\nLochabuidhe!\u201d\n\n\u201cThig thusa so,\u201d ars\u2019 an gille m\u00f2r, \u201c\u2019s cuiridh mise d\u00e0 chois nach\ndeachaidh riamh \u2019n leithid ortsa fothad.\u201d Chuir e \u2019n cl\u00e0raineach mu\nchn\u00e0imh \u2019amhaich, \u2019s dh\u2019 fhalbh e leis. \u2019Nuair thainig iad \u2019an sealladh\nan duine a bha \u2019deanamh a gharaidh, dh\u2019 iarr an cl\u00e0raineach tilleadh.\nThuirt Mac Phaidean nach tilleadh. Dhl\u00f9thaich iad ris an fhear a bha\n\u2019deanamh a gharaidh. Thog am fear a bha aig an teine a cheann, \u2019s\nmhothaich e dhoibh-san a\u2019 tighinn. Shaoil leis gur h-e a chompanach\nfh\u00e9in, am fear a chaidh a ghoid an daimh, a bha air tighinn. Labhair\ne \u2019s thuirt e, \u201cAn d\u2019 th\u00e0inig tu?\u201d \u201cTh\u00e0inig,\u201d ars\u2019 Mac Phaidean. \u201c\u2019S\nam bheil e agad?\u201d \u201cTha,\u201d ars\u2019 Mac Phaidean. \u201c\u2019S am bheil e reamhar?\u201d\n\u201cBiodh e reamhar no caol agad, sin agad e!\u201d \u2019s e a\u2019 tilgeadh a\u2019\nchl\u00e0raineich mu \u2019n teine.\n\nChuir Mac Phaidean na buinn air, \u2019s theich e co l\u00e0idir \u2019s a rinn e\nriamh. Leum an cl\u00e0raineach air falbh as a dh\u00e9ighinn, chuir e na ceithir\nraimh[14] orra gu teicheadh. Dh\u2019 \u00e9irich am fear a bh\u2019 aig an teine,\nagus d\u00f9il aige gur h-e feadhainn a thainig a dh\u2019 fharcluais air fh\u00e9in\na bh\u2019 ann, \u2019s gu \u2019n robh e nis a s\u00e0s. Dh\u2019 fhalbh e as d\u00e9ighinn a\u2019\nchl\u00e0raineach, dhol a ghabhail a leithsgeul do thighearna Lochabuidhe.\nBha an cl\u00e0raineach \u2019g a fhaicinn a\u2019 tighinn as a dh\u00e9ighinn, \u2019s e\nl\u00e0n-chinnteach gur h-e \u2019m fear a chaidh chrochadh a bh\u2019 ann.\n\nR\u00e0inig Mac Phaidean. Dh\u2019 fharraid iad dheth an d\u2019 thug iad br\u00f2g bharr\nan duine. Thuirt e nach d\u2019 thug, gu \u2019n dubhairt e ris-san an robh\nan cl\u00e0raineach reamhar, \u2019s gu \u2019n robh e cinnteach gu \u2019n robh e air\n\u2019itheadh aca roimhe so.\n\nR\u00e0inig an cl\u00e0raineach \u2019s an glaodh ud \u2019n a cheann, esan a leigeadh\na stigh, gu \u2019n robh am fear ud a\u2019 tighinn. Leigeadh a stigh e. Am\nbuileach a bha e stigh, bhuail am fear a bh\u2019 air a\u2019 chroich \u2019s an\ndorus, esan a leigeadh a stigh. Thuirt fear Lochabuidhe nach leigeadh.\n\u201cIs ann a th\u2019 annam,\u201d ars\u2019 esan, \u201cam buachaille agaibh fh\u00e9in.\u201d Leig iad\n\u2019an so a stigh e. Bhuail e so air innseadh dhoibh mar chaidh e-fh\u00e9in\n\u2019s am buachaille eile a ghoid an daimh; gu \u2019n do shaoil esan gur h-e\n\u2019m buachaille eile a bha air tilleadh leis an damh, gur h-e \u2019thug air\na dh\u2019 fhe\u00f2raich an robh e reamhar. Bha sp\u00f2rs is fearas-chuideachd\nanabarrach aig tighearna Lochabuidhe \u2019s aig \u2019uaislean air a so fad\nna h-oidhche. Chum iad aca am buachaille gus an robh e ro-fhada dh\u2019\noidhche \u2019g innseadh naigheachd mar a dh\u2019 \u00e9irich dha.\n\nTh\u00e0inig so am fear a chaidh a ghoid an daimh. R\u00e0inig e \u2019chraobh aig an\nd\u2019 fh\u00e0g e \u2019m buachaille eile \u2019s cha d\u2019 fhuair e duine. Bhuail e air\nsiubhal s\u00ecos \u2019s suas; mhothaich e \u2019n slaod ud nuas ris a\u2019 chraoibh.\n\u201cO,\u201d ars\u2019 esan, \u201ctha thusa air do chrochadh bho \u2019n a dh\u2019 fhalbh mise,\n\u2019s bithidh mise am maireach air an ruith air am bheil thu fh\u00e9in. \u2019S\ne an turus mi-shealbhach, \u2019s buaireadh nam ban, a chuir sinne air an\nturus.\u201d\n\nGhabh e null \u2019s thug e\u2019 n duine bh\u00e0rr na croiche g\u2019 a thoirt dachaigh.\nDh\u2019 fhalbh e \u2019s cha d\u2019 fhuair e leithid dol roimh mhonadh \u2019s roimh\npholl \u2019s roimh eabar riamh; mu dheireadh r\u00e0inig e tigh na mnatha bha \u2019n\nduine air a chrochadh aice. Bhuail e \u2019s an dorus; dh\u2019 \u00e9irich a\u2019 bhean\n\u2019s leig i stigh e. \u201cCiamar a dh\u2019 \u00e9irich dhuibh?\u201d ars\u2019 a\u2019 bhean. \u201cIs\ncoma leatsa co-dhi\u00f9, mo thruaighe! tha e air a chrochadh o \u2019n a dh\u2019\nfhalbh sinn.\u201d\n\nChaidh a\u2019 bhean gu glaodhaich agus gu caoineadh. \u201cNa abair guth,\u201d ars\u2019\nesan, \u201cair neo bithidh tu fh\u00e9in \u2019s mise air ar crochadh am m\u00e0ireach.\nTiodhlaicidh sinn anns a\u2019 gh\u00e0radh e, \u2019s cha bhi fios aig duine am feasd\nair. Nis (ars\u2019 esan), bithidh mise falbh dhachaigh thun mo thighe f\u00e9in.\u201d\n\nAch smaointich am fear a bha \u2019n Lochbuidhe gu \u2019n robh an t-\u00e0m aige\ntighinn dachaigh nis. Bhuail e \u2019s an dorus aige fh\u00e9in. Cha dubhairt a\nbhean guth. Ghlaodh e so a leigeadh a stigh. \u201cCha leig,\u201d ars\u2019 a bhean,\n\u201c\u2019s ann a tha thu air do chrochadh; cha tig thu so am feasd!\u201d\n\n\u201cCha \u2019n \u2019eil mi air mo chrochadh fhathast,\u201d thuirt esan.\n\n\u201cBiodh sin mar a dh\u2019 fheudas e dhuit,\u201d ars\u2019 ise, \u201ccha \u2019n fhaigh thu\nstigh so am feasd.\u201d\n\nIs e \u2019chomhairle a smaointich e air, dol gu tigh a\u2019 bhuachaille eile.\nGhlaodh e \u2019s an dorus aig an fhear ud, a leigeil a stigh. Thuirt am\nfear ud, \u201cCha tig thu stigh an so; fhuair mise gu le\u00f2ir \u2019g ad thoirt\ndachaigh air mo mhuin \u2019s tu air do chrochadh.\u201d Bha uinneag mh\u00f2r air\nceann an tighe \u2019s ghabh e dh\u2019 ionnsuidh na h-uinneig. Th\u00e0inig e stigh\nair an uinneig. \u201cEirich,\u201d ars\u2019 esan, \u201c\u2019s las solus \u2019s gu \u2019m faic thu\nnach do chrochadh mise na \u2019s m\u00f2 na \u2019chrochadh tu-fh\u00e9in.\u201d\n\n\u2019Nuair chunnaic e gur e a bh\u2019 aige, chum e aige e gu maduinn, gus an\nd\u2019 th\u00e0inig an latha. Chuir iad an so an guth ri ch\u00e9ile a dh\u2019 innseadh\ndhaibh mar a dh\u2019 \u00e9irich dhaibh thall \u2019s a bhos; gu \u2019n rachadh iad gu\ntighearna Lochabuidhe \u2019s gu \u2019n innseadh iad dha na h-uile dad mar a dh\u2019\n\u00e9irich dhaibh. \u2019Nuair chuala tighearna Lochabuidhe mar a dh\u2019 \u00e9irich\ndoibh, cha robh bliadhna tuilleadh nach tugadh e damh do na h-uile fear\ndhiubh, \u2019s bolla mine.\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[10] _Dubh-bhrochan_ is a thin mixture of oatmeal and water, without\nmeat or vegetables. This seems to have been a popular drink in olden\ntimes. When the Lord of the Isles kept state at Duntulm Castle in Skye,\nno one was admitted into the potentate\u2019s body-guard unless he could\ntake the vessel (diorcal), containing the liquid, with one hand from\nhis companion, take his own mouthful, and pass it on to the next. In\nthe Island of Mull, adjoining the Sound, and opposite Ardtornish, once\nthe seat of the Lords of the Isles, there is a place, probably deriving\nits name from some fancied resemblance to this dish, called Loch\nDiorcal.\n\n[11] Moy Castle is situated near the modern mansion-house of Lochbuie,\nand the reference appears to be to it in the Gaelic text. (Ed.)\n\n[12] MacFadyens were said by one of the clan, of whose judgment and\nintelligence the writer has cause to think very highly, to have been\nthe first possessors of Lochbuie, and when expelled, that they became\na race of wandering artificers, (_Sliochd nan \u00f2r-cheard_--the race of\ngoldsmiths), in _Beinn-an-aoinidh_ and other suitable localities in\nMull. The race is a very ancient one, but it has often been noticed\nthat they are without a chief.\n\n[13] _Cl\u00e0raineach_ means one on boards. A person losing the use of\nhis limbs, and going on all fours, with boards or pieces of wood\nbelow his hands and knees, and with which he could more easily drag\nhimself over the ground. When placed sitting, he could not move. In\nolden times the defects of humanity, which are now relieved by many\nmeans, were left entirely to chance or very simple aids, and were the\nobjects of malevolent persecution, rather than of charitable or kindly\nconsideration.\n\n[14] _Na ceithir r\u00e0imh_ (the four oars)--fled upon all fours. (Ed.)\n\n\n\n\nMAC NEIL OF BARRA, AND THE LOCHLINNERS.\n\n\nThe Lochlinners came to Barra at one time and they put Mac Neil to\nflight. He escaped to Ireland, where he remained. When his sons\ngrew up, they heard themselves continually twitted as strangers,\nand called \u201cBarraich.\u201d They resolved to find out the reason of this\ntreatment, and one day, while at dinner, they demanded from their\nfather an explanation of their being called by such an uncommon name\nas \u201cBarraich\u201d (Barraidhich); but he replied that the mention of that\nname caused him the deepest sorrow, and forbade them ever to mention\nit in his hearing again. \u201cWe will never eat a bite nor drink a drink\nagain,\u201d they said, \u201ctill we know what the word means.\u201d He then\nexplained the name and told them all that happened to him and how he\nhad to suffer indignity and scorn as long as his powerful enemies\nthe Norsemen held his lands. His sons on hearing the cause of their\nfather\u2019s banishment resolved to try every means in their power to\nrecover their inheritance. They began to fit out a galley (_b\u00ecrlinn_),\nand when it was completed with masts, sails, oars, crew and compass,\nand in readiness to go away, their father gave them the point to Barra\nHead, and said, that if the man he left at Barra was still there, and\nwhose name was Macillcary (Mac\u2019ille-charaich), he would direct them\nstraight to the place where they were to go to in search of their\nenemies. Thus it happened (_\u2019s ann mar sin a bh\u00e0_). They found the man\nand told him who they were and the purpose for which they came. He bade\nthem steer for Castle Bay (_B\u00e0igh-a\u2019-chaisteil_) and a light on the\nright-hand-side as they entered. They reached the house where the light\nwas, but could get no entrance. They climbed to the roof, and looking\nthrough an opening saw a poor old man who was weeping bitterly. They\ncalled to him that they were friends, and on admitting them he told\nthem how that day he had been paying his rent to the Lochlinners and\nwanted a few marks of it, for this they threatened him that if he did\nnot return with the balance of the rent, he would receive next day at\nnoon a certain number of lashes. The Mac Neils then told their errand,\nand the old man joyfully showed them the most direct and secret way to\nthe Castle, in which was a well of pure water whose source was unknown.\nThey took the castle, and went on to Kinloch (Ceannloch), and cleared\nVaslam as well. They then sent word to their father, who came with a\nband of followers to their help, and others, native born, whom he had\nformerly known, and on whose friendship he could rely, as soon as the\ntidings of his return reached them, joined his band. An unacknowledged\nson whom he had left, came among the rest to his assistance. This son,\nfrom the circumstance, was known as Mac-an-amharuis (the son of doubt).\nWhen he put forward his claim, Mac Neil replied, \u201cIf you are a son\nof mine, prove it by clearing Eilean Fiaradh, before morning, of my\nenemies.\u201d \u201cGive me the means then,\u201d Mac-an-amharuis answered, \u201cand I\nwill not leave the blood of one of the race in any part or place (_\u2019s\ncha\u2019n fh\u00e0g mi fuil f\u00ecneig dhiubh \u2019an \u00e0ite na\u2019n ionad_).\u201d Mac Neil gave\nhim his own sword, and that night while the Lochlinners, who had been\ncarousing heavily, slept soundly, he made his way and got secretly in\nto the castle which stands on an inlet before Eoligarry castle, eight\nmiles from Castle Bay, and killed the inmates where they lay. It is\nsaid that their bodies are still to be seen when a violent storm drifts\nthe sand hither and thither over the fort (_tigh-d\u00econ_) where they were\nslain. From that day Mac Neil had his own rights.\n\n\n\n\nFINLAY GUIVNAC.\n\n\nAt the time MacLean of Dowart was proprietor of Tiree, this man,\n_Fionnladh Guibhneach_, was living near a small bay, _Port-nan-long_,\nin Balemartin, on the south side of the island (_air an leige deas_).\nThere was no other joinersmith but himself, or rather, there was none\nto equal him in skill in the five islands (_anns na c\u00f2ig eileanan_).\nBalemartin and Mannal were in those days one farm-holding, and there\nwere few people in the township. The change-house (_tigh-\u00f2sd_) was at\nthe streamlet Gedans (_amhuinn Ghoidean_), between Island House, the\nproprietor\u2019s residence, and the shore. At this time, also, there was\nfosterhood (_comhaltas_) between MacLeod of Dunvegan and MacLean of\nTiree, by which they were bound to give proof of friendship for each\nother at whatever cost or whenever there was occasion on either side,\nand MacLeod, being in need of Finlay Guivnac\u2019s service, came with his\nboat (_b\u00ecrlinn_) to Tiree for him. He landed at _Port-nan-long_ (the\ncreek of sailing ships), and on reaching Island House was heartily\nwelcomed by MacLean. When he asked for Finlay, he was told that he had\nnot been at Island House for some days, \u201cand it is not a good day when\nI do not see him,\u201d MacLean said. MacLeod said he came to take Finlay\nwith him for a year\u2019s service; that all care would be taken of him,\nand if no misfortune or mischance befell either of them, he himself\nwould bring him home at the end of the year. When MacLean heard this\nhe said they would go in search of Finlay. They went, and as they were\ncrossing the common (_an clar macharach_), between the house and the\nstreamlet, they met Finlay, who, having recovered from the attack of\nill-humour, was, as was usually his daily custom, on his way to Island\nHouse. MacLeod asked after his health, and if he was yet able to do\nas good work as ever. Finlay said that in place of getting weaker as\nhe got older, he was daily gaining in strength and vigour (_neart\u2019s\nt\u00e0bhachd_); he was more active in walking, and could see better than\nhe had ever done. MacLeod said he was surprised to hear that, as in\nSkye people were failing in strength and activity as they became\nolder, \u201cand it is curious that it is different with you.\u201d Finlay said\nhe knew he was better now at walking and was gaining his eyesight, as\nformerly he could jump over Sorabai stream, but now he walked to the\nford to get across; and when he was younger, if he saw a person, it\nwas as one, but now it was as two and three. They took Finlay with\nthem to the change-house. When pledging MacLean\u2019s health, MacLeod, as\nwas customary, said, \u201cWishing to get my wish from you, MacLean\u201d (_Mo\nshainnseal ort, Mhic\u2019illeathain_).\n\n\n\u201cYou are welcome to have your wish freely gratified\u201d (_\u2019S e beatha le\nsainnseal_),[15] MacLean replied. \u201cMy wish is that I may get Finlay\nwith me,\u201d MacLeod said. In returning the compliment MacLean said, \u201cMy\nwish is that I may keep Finlay to myself.\u201d \u201cBut I do not ask to keep\nhim always,\u201d MacLeod said. They then settled the wages, and agreed\nbetween them that Finlay should go to Dunvegan, on the west coast\nof Skye, for a year\u2019s work, and lest he should be kept longer than\nthat time, MacLean was to go with him. When Finlay went home and told\nhis wife about the journey he was to take, she said to him, \u201cYou are\nvery foolish to go so far away, when MacLean is giving you a good\nlivelihood.\u201d \u201cI must go at any rate, and you must come with me,\u201d he\nsaid, and told her how he was not to remain in Skye, and that MacLean\nhimself was going with him to make sure he would not be kept there,\nand that she was to go with them. \u201cHow can I do that,\u201d she said, \u201cwhen\nMacLean will not allow a woman in the same boat with him?\u201d \u201cI will put\nyou in a hogshead,\u201d he said, \u201cand when we reach Dunvegan there will\nbe feasting and enjoyment, and when the nobility of MacLeod (_maithibh\nSiol Le\u00f2id_) are gathered, you will come in among the company as a poor\nwoman, and I will manage the rest in such a way as that you may perhaps\nearn more than myself.\u201d She consented to this, and he put her at night\nwith sufficient provision in the boat. They reached Dunvegan safely\n(_le deadh shoirbheachadh_). Finlay\u2019s wife got away unnoticed from\nthe boat, and waited at a house near till the festivities began. When\nthe crew and those who came in the boat reached the castle, there was\nmuch rejoicing; an abundant feast was provided, and company gathered,\nand the usual customs when tables were spread and guests invited, were\nobserved. Among those who came to the gathering was a dependent of\ngood position, who, through some trifling cause, had lost the favour\nof MacLeod. Finlay observed that he kept aloof from the company, and\nhaving ascertained the cause, advised him to pledge MacLeod\u2019s health,\nand at the same time make his grievance known. He took the advice, and\nsaid,\n\n \u201cEsteemed was I in MacLeod\u2019s house\n When justice sat in his land,\n And I am a forgotten son to-night\n At the time of drawing in to wine (drinking),\n But this to you, son of Dark John,\n Who came in to-day or yesterday,\n I am the son of a hero\n Who was here in the past,\n Though I cannot to-day\n Get the hill for my cattle.\u201d\n\n (\u201cBu mh\u00f9irneach mise \u2019an tigh Mhic Le\u00f2id\n \u2019Nuair shuidh a\u2019 ch\u00f2ir \u2019n a th\u00ecr,\n \u2019S mac d\u00ec-chuimhnicht\u2019 mi \u2019n nochd \u2019n a theach\n \u2019An \u00e0m tarruing a steach gu fion,\n Ach sud ortsa, mhic Iain Duibh,\n A th\u00e0inig stigh an diugh no \u2019n d\u00e9,\n Mise mac suinn a bh\u2019 ann riamh\n Ged nach fhaigh mi \u2019n diugh an sliabh g\u2019 am spr\u00e9idh.\u201d)\n\n\u201cGood youth,\u201d MacLean said, \u201cgo you to Mull and I will give you land\n(_fearann_) there.\u201d He said,\n\n \u201cI was a hero\u2019s son last year,\n But I am a son of sorrow this year;\n If I am put under a third weight,\n I will be a son of Mull next year.\u201d\n\n (\u201cBu mhac suinn mi an uiridh,\n Ach mac mulaid mi \u2019m bliadhna;\n Ma chuireas iad orm tuille treise,\n \u2019S mac Muileach mi air an ath-bhliadhna.\u201d)\n\n\u201cMacLeod\u2019s own lands are not yet exhausted,\u201d MacLeod said, and he\nrestored him to his former place and privileges, and he never had to go\nto Mull or anywhere else for land.\n\nDuring this time Finlay kept looking for his wife\u2019s appearance, and\nwhenever he saw her in the doorway he called out to her, \u201cPoor woman!\nwhat has brought you here? It must be some pressing need that made you\ncome among the nobles of the Clan Leod to-night. Tell your story, and\nsure am I they will one and all be willing to give you help, and that\nthey will not let you away as empty-handed as you have come.\u201d She said\nshe was a poor woman who was bringing herself through life honestly as\nshe best could, with help from those who took notice of her poverty and\ngave her charity, and that she came to the nobles of the Clan Leod,\nas they were gathered at this time, to try if they would help her.\n\u201cLet your countrymen do as they like,\u201d Finlay said, \u201cI will give you a\ncalving cow (_mart-laoigh_).\u201d MacLean looked at him in astonishment,\nand it was no wonder, when he heard him give away the only cow the\npoor woman in Balemartin had to the northern wife (_do \u2019n chaillich\nthuathaich_). Everyone of the nobles present gave her a similar gift,\ntill she had the nine cows. When the company left, and MacLean had an\nopportunity of speaking to Finlay, he said to him, \u201cWhat made you give\nthe only cow you had to the northern wife?\u201d \u201cDo you know who the wife\nis?\u201d Finlay said. \u201cWhat do I care what wife she is or was,\u201d MacLean\nsaid. \u201cIt was just my own wife who was there and got all the cows, and\nyou need not give her yours till you return home,\u201d Finlay said. \u201cAnd\nhow did you bring her here?\u201d MacLean asked. \u201cOds! MacLean,\u201d he said,\n\u201cjust in the big hogshead at your feet in the galley.\u201d \u201cNo death will\never happen to you but to be hanged for your quirks\u201d (_cha tig b\u00e0s\nortsa \u2019m feasd ach do chrochadh le d\u2019 raoitean_), MacLean said, and\nhe advised him to send the cattle to Mull, till they could be ferried\nto Tiree. Finlay took the advice, and sent his wife and the cows to\nMacLean\u2019s place at Benmolach, on the north-west side of Mull, and she\ngot them to Balemartin, where MacLean on his return home sent her his\nown gift.\n\nFinlay began his work and went on diligently with it that he might\nbe ready at the end of the year to return home, and MacLeod came\nfrequently where he was, more to hear what he had to say than to see\nthe progress he was making with his work. One day, happening to find\nhim at his breakfast, and observing that Finlay began at the back with\na shape of butter (_measgan-\u00ecme_) that was set before him, MacLeod\nasked him when he had finished, why he did not begin at the front of\nit. \u201cI took it just from back to front as was wont at MacLean\u2019s table,\nwhere the measures were round (_far nach biodh na measgain \u2019n am\nbloidhean_)\u201d On another occasion MacLeod found him paring a remnant of\ncheese (_c\u00f9l c\u00e0ise_), and asked him when he had learned to pare cheese.\n\u201cSince I came to MacLeod\u2019s Castle,\u201d he said: \u201cit was not the custom\nto put a remnant on the inviting, merry, bountiful table in MacLean\u2019s\nhouse (_air b\u00f2rd fiughaireach, aighearach, fialaidh Mhic\u2019illeathain_).\u201d\n\nWhen the year had expired, MacLean, as had been agreed on, went to\nbring Finlay home. He was cordially received by MacLeod and was\nenjoying, after his journey, the usual hospitalities prepared for\nguests of his rank, when he heard the sound of Finlay\u2019s hammer: \u201cMy\nloss! (_mo chreach!_),\u201d he said, \u201cI have too long delayed going\nwhere Finlay is.\u201d When he reached him, he said, \u201cExcuse me, Finlay, I\nhave been rather a long time of coming where you are.\u201d \u201cI know that,\nMacLean,\u201d he said,\n\n \u201cThe object of my contempt is the small table\n Where meanness would be (found):\n The object of my praise was the well filled table\n Where proud heroes sat.\n You did not take in Finlay Guivnac\n Nor remember him till the last.\u201d\n\n (\u201cB\u2019e mo laochan am b\u00f2rd suaile\n Air am bitheadh na laoich mheamnach:\n Cha d\u2019 thug thusa stigh do ghobhainn Guibhneach,\n \u2019S cha do chuimhnich thu e gu anmoch.\u201d)\n\nMacLean then asked after his welfare during the year, and said among\nother things, he would like to hear what were his opinions of the women\nof the MacLeod country since his coming among them. \u201cWell, I will tell\nyou that,\u201d Finlay said,\n\n \u201cIf all the women of the Clan MacLeod,\n Small and great, old and young,\n Were gathered in one body,\n It would be one right one I would make out of them.\u201d\n\n (\u201cGed bhiodh mnathan S\u00ecol Le\u00f2id,\n Beag is m\u00f2r, sean \u2019s cr\u00econ,\n Air an c\u00e0radh \u2019an aona bhodhaig\n \u2019S e aona bhean ch\u00f2ir a dheanainn dhiubh.\u201d)\n\n\u201cThey will not be well pleased with your words.\u201d \u201cThey will be better\npleased with my words than I have been with their ways,\u201d Finlay said;\n\u201cI see it is time to return to Tiree,\u201d MacLean said.\n\nWhen Finlay went to get payment from MacLeod before leaving, and as\nthey were conversing together after settling between them, MacLeod\nsaid he would lay a wager that the peats of Tiree would not burn so\nwell as the peats of Skye. \u201cWhat is your opinion, Finlay?\u201d MacLean\nasked; \u201cShall I accept the wager?\u201d \u201cWell, as a matter of indifference\nI will wager they will not burn as well as those of the White Moss\nin Tiree (_Le\u00f2ra! cuiridh mise geall uach gabh iad co maith ri m\u00f2ine\nBhl\u00e0ir-bh\u00e0in \u2019an Tireadh_),\u201d Finlay said, and the wager was laid. \u201cI\nwill try another wager,\u201d MacLeod said, \u201cthat our dogs will thrash the\nMacLean dogs.\u201d This wager was also accepted, and MacLeod came to Tiree\nwith them, bringing peats and dogs with him in the galley. On putting\nthe wagers to the test, the Skye peat when kindled lighted brightly\nwith a great flare, but was soon burnt out. MacLean then asked if they\nwould try the Tiree kind now. As none had been brought by the servants,\nand as it had previously been agreed on between them, MacLean asked\nFinlay to go for them himself. Finlay said perhaps it would not be the\nbest that he would bring in. He went out, and gathering an armful of\npeats took and steeped them one by one (_f\u00f2id an d\u00e9igh f\u00f2id_) in a cask\nof oil. When MacLeod saw them he said, \u201cO man, how wet they are! (_O\ndhuine, nach iad a tha fliuch_).\u201d \u201cThe wetter they are, the livelier\nthey will burn (_mar a\u2019 s fliuiche \u2019s ann a\u2019 s braise iad_),\u201d Finlay\nreplied, putting them on; and when they took fire they nearly burned\nthe house. \u201cDid I not say they would burn better than those of Skye,\u201d\nFinlay said to MacLeod, \u201cand you have lost the wager.\u201d \u201cUndoubtedly I\nhave,\u201d the other replied. Next day the dog fight (_tabaid chon_) was to\nbe tried. Finlay rose early and gave his dogs the strongest \u201ccrowdie\u201d\n(_fuarag_, a mixture of milk and meal), and though they were smaller\nwhen the fight began, MacLeod\u2019s dogs could not hold one bout with them.\n\u201cIt is surprising,\u201d MacLeod said, \u201cwhen one of my dogs is as big as two\nof MacLean\u2019s dogs.\u201d \u201cYou need not be at all surprised,\u201d Finlay said,\n\u201cthose here are of the race of dogs that were in the land of the Fians\n(_so s\u00ecolachadh nan con a bh\u2019 aca \u2019s an Fh\u00e9inn_), and no other kind\nneed try their strength against them.\u201d \u201cIf you were in the land of the\nFians, you came back, and no one need lay a wager with MacLean so long\nas he has you with him.\u201d MacLeod bade them farewell and returned home\n(_Dh\u2019 fh\u00e0g e beannachd aca \u2019s thill e dhachaidh_).\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[15] _Sainnseal_ means the giving of a free gift, or handsel.\n\n\n\n\nBIG DEWAR OF BALEMARTIN, TIREE.\n\n\nHe was John MacLean, a native of Dowart in the island of Mull, who\nfled to Jura.[16] He is said to have been the first man from that\nisland who settled in Tiree, and on that account was known as Dewar\n(_Di\u00f9rach_).[17] He and his seven sons were alike powerful and strong\nmen. They held the township of Balemartin (on the south side of Tiree),\nincluding Sorabi, where a burying ground is, and where there was at one\ntime a chapel to which was attached the land of Sorabi garden. At this\ntime the people in the island were paying rent or tax (_c\u00ecs_), but it\nwas found impossible to make big John Dewar submit to pay the tax. The\nfirst time any attempt was made to compel him to pay it, he took with\nhim his seven sons to Island-House, the proprietor\u2019s residence, and put\nthem on the sward in front of the house (_air d\u00f2irlinn an eilein_),\nsaying, \u201cThis is the payment I have brought you, and you may take it or\nleave it.\u201d Another attempt to enforce payment from him ended as told in\nthe following account:--\n\nOne day when he and his sons were ploughing, two of the sons being at\nSorabi, as there were few people in the neighbourhood, and his sons\nwere at some distance from him, he had to go himself to the smithy to\nrepair the ploughshare (_a ghlasadh an t-suic_). It was the beginning\nof summer, and he left the horses in the plough, eating the wild\nmustard (_sgeallan_) in the field where he was ploughing, grass and\nother herbage being scant. While their father was away at the smithy,\nthe sons who were at Sorabi, on taking a look seawards, observed a boat\n(_b\u00ecrlinn_) coming in towards the shore. It kept its course for the\nsmall bay of boats (_port nan long_), in Balemartin, and had on board a\nvery strong man called \u201cDark John Campbell\u201d (_Iain Dubh Caimbeul_), who\nwas sent to collect the tax from those in the island who were unwilling\nto pay it. He had an able crew with him in the boat. They landed,\nand when they reached the place where Dewar was ploughing, the first\nthing they did was to seize the horses in the plough (_na h-eich a bha\n\u2019s an t-seisreach_), to take them away in the boat as payment of the\ntax. When they were almost ready to be off, Dewar came in sight on his\nreturn from the smithy. On seeing the unwelcome strangers he quickened\nhis steps to intercept them, and took hold of the horses to take them\nback. Campbell drew his sword, bidding him be off as fast as he could\nor he would put his head beside his feet. Dewar drew his own sword and\nsaid, \u201cCome on and do all you are able.\u201d The fray began between them,\nand Dewar was driving Campbell, Inveraray, backwards until he put him\nin among the graves (_lic_) in the burying-ground, and it so happened\nthat Campbell stumbled on MacLean\u2019s cross and fell backwards. Before\nhe could raise himself Dewar got the upper hand of him. On seeing him\nfall, his men were certain that he must have been killed, and they\nwent away with the horses to the boat and put off to sea. \u201cLet me\nrise,\u201d Campbell said, \u201cand I will give you my word that I will never\ncome again on the same errand.\u201d \u201cI will,\u201d Dewar said, \u201cbut give me\nyour oath on that, that it will be as that (_gu \u2019m bi sin mar sin_).\u201d\nCampbell gave his word, \u201cand more than that,\u201d he said, \u201cI will send you\nthe value of the horses when I reach Inveraray.\u201d \u201cYou will now come\nwith me to my house,\u201d Dewar said, \u201cand you need not have fear or dread;\nyour house-quarters and welcome will not be worse than my own, till you\ncan find a way of returning home.\u201d In the course of some days Campbell\ngot away, and he never returned again to \u201cbullyrag\u201d or intimidate any\none. On reaching Inveraray he was as good as his word. He sold the\nhorses and sent the price to Dewar, who was never compelled to pay the\ntax.\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[16] The cause of John Dewar\u2019s flight to Jura is said to have been\noccasioned by his having given information to MacLaine of Lochbuie\nwhich was injurious to MacLean of Dowart, in a dispute that occurred\nbetween them.\n\n[17] Several of John Dewar\u2019s descendants are at the present day in\nTiree. They are known as _na Di\u00f9raich_, one family who are descended\nfrom the elder of his sons being cottars in Balemartin.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIG LAD OF DERVAIG.\n\n\nContemporary with John Dewar of Balemartin, Tiree, the Big Lad was\nliving at Dervaig, Mull, with his father, Charles, son of Fair Neil\nof Dervaig. This lad, as he grew up to manhood, became noted for his\ngreat strength and prowess, as well as for his handsome person. At\nthe same time he was reckless and foolish. Despising his father\u2019s\nreproofs and heedless of his counsel, advice or admonitions, he went\non in his mad career until at last he purloined money from him, with\nwhich he bought a ship and went sailing away, none of his friends knew\nwhither. After some years he returned home, broken-down in appearance,\nempty-handed, and a complete \u201ctatterdemalion,\u201d having wrecked his ship\non the coast of Ireland, and lost all the wealth he had accumulated to\nrepay his father, who was now dead. The grieve (_an t-aoirean_) had the\nland, and he went where he was. The grieve told him about his father\u2019s\ndeath, and advised him to go to his father\u2019s brother, Donald, son of\nfair Neil, who had Hynish, Tiree, at that time, and whatever advice\nhe would get from him, to follow it, and he (the grieve) would give\nhim clothing and means to take him there, on condition of being repaid\nwhen he returned. As there was no other way open to him of redeeming\nhis past errors, he agreed to the grieve\u2019s conditions and went to\nTiree to his uncle, by whom he was coldly received. \u201cWhat business has\nbrought you, and where are you going when you have come here?\u201d \u201cTo ask\nadvice from yourself,\u201d he said. \u201cGood was the advice your father had\nto give, and you did not take it; what I advise you to do is, to go\nand enlist in the Black Watch, and that will keep you out of harm. You\nwill stay here to-night, and I will give you money to-morrow morning\nto take you to the regiment,\u201d his uncle said. His uncle was married\nto a daughter of MacLean, Laird of Coll. Her husband did not tell her\nof his nephew\u2019s arrival, as he was displeased at his coming. When the\nBig Lad was leaving the house next morning, she saw him passing the\nwindow and asked who the handsome-looking stranger was. On being told,\nshe made him return to the house, gave him food, drink, and clothing,\nand on parting, money to take him on his way. He returned to Dervaig,\npaid the ploughman his due, and went off to the wars. At the first\nplace he landed, said to be Greenock, a pressgang was waiting to seize\nwhoever they could get to suit the king\u2019s service, and on seeing this\nlikely man they instantly surrounded him, to carry him off by force.\nHe turned about and asked what they wanted with him. They said, \u201cTo\ntake you with us in spite of you.\u201d When he understood their intentions\nhe opened his arms to their widest extent and drove all those before\nhim, eighteen men, backwards into the sea, and left them there floating\nto get out the best way they could. He then made his way till he\nenlisted in the Black Watch, then on the eve of leaving for America,\nwhere it remained for seven years. During that time the Big Lad (_an\nGille m\u00f2r_) won the esteem and commendation of his superiors in rank,\nby his exemplary conduct and good bearing, as well as the admiration\nand affection of his equals, to whom he was courteous and forbearing.\nWhen the regiment was returning to England, the officers frequently\nspent their leisure time, on board of the man-of-war that brought it\nhome, playing dice. One day, when they were at their games, the Big Lad\nwas looking on, and he saw a young man, one of the English officers,\ninsolently, but more in jest than in earnest, striking on the ear the\ncolonel of the regiment, who, the Big Lad knew, was a Highlander. When\nhe saw the insult was not resented, he said in Gaelic to the Colonel,\n\u201cWhy did you let him strike you?\u201d (_C\u2019 ar son a leig thu leis do\nbhualadh?_). \u201cYou are, then, a Highlander,\u201d the colonel said to him,\n\u201cand you have been with me for seven years without telling me that you\nare.\u201d \u201cIf you would do what I ask you, I will make you one that he will\nnot do the same thing to you again,\u201d he said to the colonel.\n\n\u201cWhat do you want me to do?\u201d the colonel said. \u201cThat you will write out\nmy discharge when we reach London,\u201d he said. \u201cBut a soldier cannot get\nhis discharge without an order (stamped) under the crown,\u201d the colonel\nsaid. \u201cWrite what you can for me and I will not plead for more,\u201d he\nsaid. \u201cAnything I can write will not do you any good,\u201d the colonel\nsaid. \u201cWrite that itself,\u201d he said; and he got it written. Next time\nthe play was going on, the Big Lad looked on, and when he saw the same\none striking the colonel again, he went to him and asked why he did\nit. The reply he got was that soldiers were not allowed to question\ntheir officers. \u201cThis is my way of excusing myself,\u201d the Big Lad said,\ngiving him a blow he had cause to remember all his life, if he ever\nrecovered from it. The soldier was sentenced to be severely punished,\nbut on arriving in England, he deserted--though desertion of the army\nis not a custom of Highland soldiers--and became a fugitive. The great\nesteem in which he was held prevented any one from hindering his\nflight. He got ashore at night among the baggage, and harbour lights\nnot being numerous in those days, he could not easily be seen making\nhis escape. Whenever he got his foot on land he set off, and during the\nremainder of the night he ran on flying from pursuit. In the day-time\nhe hid himself under hedges and haystacks, and next night fled on. On\nthe following day he was becoming exhausted, and he ventured to ask\nfood at a wayside house. As his appearance was that of a poor soldier\nhe got scanty fare, but he asked with civility for better food, and\nit was given to him. While he was taking it two strangers came in to\nthe same room with him, and seeing his table well supplied while their\nown was poorly furnished, one of them said, \u201cIt is strange to see a\nHighland soldier with good food, while we have next to nothing,\u201d and\nhe went over and swept away all the meat from the soldier\u2019s table to\nhis own. The soldier called the mistress of the house and asked her who\nthe men were. She said they were travellers, and she asked them why\nthey took the meat from the soldier\u2019s table, and told them if they had\nin a civil manner asked better food for themselves they would have got\nit, instead of raising a quarrel. The soldier said he would settle the\nquarrel; and finding a large iron hoop (_l\u00f9bach mh\u00f2r iaruinn_) at hand,\nhe straightened it (a fathom in length) and flung it round the head of\nthe one nearest to him, then twisted it in a noose and put the other\none\u2019s head in the remainder. He then drew them both out after him, and\nleft them on the high road. \u201cNow,\u201d he said to them at parting, \u201cyou can\ntravel on, for you will not come out of that tie till you are put in\na smithy fire (_teallach gobhainn_).\u201d He returned to pay the hostess,\nwho said to him, \u201cYou do not appear to have much money.\u201d \u201cI have seven\nday\u2019s pay of a soldier left, to pay my way,\u201d he said. \u201cGood youth,\u201d she\nsaid, \u201chere is double the amount to you, to take you on your journey,\nand I am sufficiently repaid by your ridding my house of disagreeable\nguests.\u201d He took the gift thankfully, and turned his face northwards,\nto come to Scotland (_Albainn_). The next evening, he saw a fine house,\nto which he went in the dusk, and asked permission to warm himself. He\nwas allowed to enter, and while standing with his back to the fire,\nthe daughter of the house saw the handsome stranger, and she told her\nfather. He desired food to be given to him, and that he was to be sent\nwhere he was. When she went with this request, the soldier asked who\nher father was. She said he was a nobleman (_\u00e0rd-dhuin\u2019 uasal_). \u201cA\nsoldier is a bad companion for a nobleman,\u201d he said. He went with her\nand saw her father, a grey-haired man in a chair, looking about him.\nThe soldier was asked to sit down. After conversing some time, the old\nman said, \u201cYoung man, I have a daughter here who gives me much trouble\nto keep her in company. If you can play cards (_iomairt chairtean_),\ntake my place at the table; there is a money reward (_duais airgid_)\nfor every game won.\u201d \u201cI have no money,\u201d the soldier replied. \u201cI will\nlend you some,\u201d she said. The play went on till he won six games, one\nafter another. He then wanted to stop playing, and offered her back\nall the winnings, but she would only take the sum she lent him, saying\nthe rest was rightly his own. He was to remain there that night, and\nwas not to go away in the morning without telling them. Being afraid\nof pursuit, he went away at daybreak. He had not gone far when he\nknew that a horseman was coming after him. He waited to see if he was\nsent to get back the money he had won at the card table; but it was\na messenger with a request to him from the nobleman to return to the\ncastle. When he appeared the nobleman chid him for leaving the castle\nunknown to him, and told him how his daughter had fallen in love with\nhim, and had resolved never to marry any one else. The soldier said,\n\u201cA soldier is a poor husband for her.\u201d The nobleman was convinced that\nhe was not a common soldier whatever circumstances had placed him in\nthat position, and said he preferred his daughter\u2019s happiness to wealth\nor rank. He remained with them and married the daughter; and when he\nlaid aside the soldier\u2019s dress, there was not his equal to be seen\nin the new dress provided for him. He was esteemed for the dignity\nof his demeanour as much as he was admired for his fine appearance,\nand he lived, without remembrance of his past misadventures, in the\nenjoyment of happiness and prosperity. In those days news travelled\nslowly, newspapers appearing only once or twice a year in populous\nvillages, and they did not reach remote places. In one which came to\nthe nobleman at this time, there was an account of two men tied in\nan iron rod (_ann an slait iaruinn_) who were being exhibited at a\nmarket town in England. He went with the nobleman and his friends to\nsee this wonder, the two who were in the union (_an dithis a bha \u2019s a\u2019\nchaigionn_). Whenever the men saw the Highlander they said to him \u201cIf\nyou were dressed in the kilt, we would say you were the man who put us\nin this noose.\u201d \u201cIf you had been more civil,\u201d he said to them, opening\nthe coil, \u201cwhen you met me, you would not to-day be fools going through\nEngland with an iron rod round your necks.\u201d On this he was cheered\nby the people, and if he was held in esteem before, he was much more\non his return home, where he remained and became a great man (_duine\nm\u00f2r_), beloved and esteemed to the end of his life.\n\n\n\n\nSTORY OF DONALD GORM OF SLEAT.\n\n\nDonald Gorm was at one time in the Island of Skye with his galley and\ncrew. When returning home to Uist, the day they set out happened to\nbecome very stormy, and stress of weather obliged them to return and\nmake straight for Dunvegan, the nearest place of shelter they could\nreach, where Donald Gorm was not very willing to go if he could in\nany way avoid landing there, since he had killed MacLeod of Dunvegan\nin a quarrel[18] which had arisen between them; but there was no\nalternative. On observing the boat coming and in danger of being lost\nMacLeod and the men of Dunvegan went to the shore to meet them, and\nwhen they were safely landed gave them a kindly reception. MacLeod took\nthem with him to his castle and provided hospitably for them. Donald\nGorm was invited to MacLeod\u2019s own table, but refused, saying, \u201cWhen\nI am away from home, like this, with my men, I do not separate from\nthem but sit with them.\u201d MacLeod said, \u201cYour men will get plenty of\nmeat and drink by themselves, and come you with me.\u201d \u201cI will not take\nfood but with my men,\u201d he said. When MacLeod saw that Donald Gorm was\nresolved not to be separated from his own men, and being unwilling to\nlet him sit with his, he asked in preference Donald Gorm\u2019s men to his\nown company. When dinner was over, drinking commenced, and MacLeod\nbecoming warm said to Donald Gorm by way of remembrance, \u201cWas it not\nyou who killed my father?\u201d \u201cIt has been laid to my charge that I killed\nthree contemptible Highland lairds (_tr\u00ec sgrogainich de thighearnan\nGaidhealach_), and I do not care though I should put the allegation\non its fourth foot to-night;\u201d Donald Gorm said, drawing his dirk:\n\u201cThere is the dirk that killed your father; it has a point, a haft\n(_faillein_), and is sharp edged, and is held in the second best hand\nat thrusting it in the west.\u201d[19] MacLeod thought he was the second\nbest hand himself, and he said, \u201cWho is the other?\u201d Donald Gorm shifted\nthe dagger to his left hand, raised it, and said, \u201cThere it is.\u201d\nMacLeod became afraid and did not revive any other remembrance. When\nDonald Gorm was offered a separate room at night, he said, \u201cWhenever\nI am from home I never have a separate bed from my men but sleep in\ntheir very midst until I return to my own house again.\u201d They told him\nthat his men had a sleeping-place provided for them, and that he would\nbe much better accommodated by himself in the room prepared for him.\nWhen they saw he could not be persuaded to alter his determination of\npassing the night with his men, they made beds for himself and men in\nthe kiln (_\u00e0th_).[20] The men, being wearied, slept without care, but\nDonald Gorm did not close an eye. He had a friend, somehow, in his\ntime of need (_caraid \u00e9iginn air chor-eiginn_), in the place, who came\nsecretly to the kiln where he and his men lay, and called to him, \u201cIs\nit a time to sleep, Donald?\u201d (_An cadal dhuit, a Dh\u00f2mhnuill?_) \u201cWhat\nif it is?\u201d (_\u2019D\u00e9 na \u2019m b\u2019 \u00e8?_), he answered from within the kiln. \u201cIf\nit is, it will not be\u201d (_na \u2019m b\u2019 \u00e8 cha bh\u00ec_), said the one outside.\n\u201cWaken men, and rise quickly,\u201d he said to his company. They got up at\nonce and with all speed went out, shutting the door of the kiln behind\nthem when they were all through to the outside. They fled straight to\nthe shore and launched their boat; and fortunately for them the wind\nhad calmed and they were able to put out oars and row the galley some\ndistance from the shore before their flight was observed. They had not\ngone far to sea before they saw the kiln on fire. \u201cIn place of your\nfather and grandfather you have left yourself without a house, and\nDonald Gorm is where you cannot reach him,\u201d Donald Gorm said, and he\ngot safely home to his own house without hurt or injury (_gun bheud gun\nmhilleadh_).\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[18] The quarrel in which MacLeod was killed was caused, it is said,\nby Donald Gorm\u2019s having repudiated his wife, who was a daughter of\nMacLeod, in order to marry MacKenzie of Kintail\u2019s sister, and MacLeod\nresenting the insult attacked Donald Gorm, who killed him and his two\nsons by throwing them over precipices in the Coolin hills in Skye\nwhere the skirmish took place. A different version of this incident is\ngiven in an early account of the \u201cTroubles in the isles betwixt the\nClan Donald and the Seil Tormot, the year 1601,\u201d and is to the effect\nthat the feud was carried on by \u201cSir Rory MacLeod of the Herries,\u201d\nbrother-in-law of Donald Gorm MacDonald of Sleat, the reprisals being\nfierce and frequent until the MacLeods were beaten at \u201cBinguillin,\u201d\nwhere a brother of Sir Rory and other chief men of his party were taken\nprisoners by Donald Gorm, but on a reconciliation taking place they\nwere set at liberty. (See Gregory\u2019s History of the Western Highlands\nand Isles, p. 295).\n\n[19] In regard to the story and incident of the dagger, there was a\nsong made, of which the writer has only been able to get the following\nverse:--\n\n This is the dirk that killed your father,\n And it has not refused you yet,\n Farewell to you from the side of the channel.\n\n \u201cHoloagaich h-ol-\u00f2\n Sud a\u2019 bhiodag a mharbh d\u2019 athair,\n \u2019S cha do dhi\u00f9lt i ri thusa fhathast;\n Soraidh leat o thaobh a\u2019 chaoil.\u201d\n\n\n[20] Kiln (_\u00e0th_) here mentioned was in a thatched house about 17 feet\nlong and 10 wide, the breast being about 5 feet deep, one being built\nin every township for preparing corn for grinding. Some peacefully\ndisposed, observant old men (_bodaichean sicire foirfe_) built kilns\nin their own barns, to avoid being hindered or disturbed by their\nneighbours at their work.\n\n\n\n\nDONALD GORM IN MOIDART.\n\n\nThe wife of the laird of Moidart (_Bean Mhac \u2019ic Ailein Mh\u00f9ideart_)\nonce took great umbrage at Donald Gorm. He came to Mac \u2019ic Ailein\u2019s\nhouse, dressed, as was his custom, in a suit of cloth of dun (natural)\ncoloured sheep\u2019s wool, with a stout oaken cudgel in his hand. The\nlaird\u2019s wife happened to be the first person he met, and without any\npreliminary word he asked, \u201cIs the lad Mac \u2019ic Ailein at home?\u201d (_Bheil\nam balach Mac \u2019ic Ailein a stigh?_) \u201cNo, he is not, at this time,\u201d\nshe answered indignantly resenting his superciliousness. The next\nquestion he asked was, \u201cWill it be a long time before he comes home?\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d she said. \u201cYou will tell him when he returns home, that\nI was asking for him here, and that The Herd is the name I get (_gur\ne am Buachaille a their iad rium_).\u201d Mac \u2019ic Ailein came home soon\nafterwards, and his wife told him about the bold man who was enquiring.\nAt her husband\u2019s request she described the stranger\u2019s appearance and\ndress, and how \u201cThe Herd\u201d was the name he got. \u201cDid you ask him in?\u201d\nher husband asked. \u201cNo,\u201d she said, \u201che was so impertinent.\u201d \u201cNone but\nme will pay the penalty for that,\u201d he said, \u201cfor he was Donald Gorm of\nSleat\u201d (_D\u00f2mhnull Gorm Shl\u00e9ibhte_). Mac \u2019ic Ailein desired a horse to\nbe saddled, and he rode at full speed after, and overtook, Donald Gorm\nat the inn. After much entreaty he was persuaded to return to Mac \u2019ic\nAilein\u2019s house. On their arrival his wife made ample apology, and the\nfriendship was not broken.\n\nMac \u2019ic Ailein had to hold MacConnel, the Herd of the Isles (_Mac\nChonnuill Buachaille nan Eileinean_) stirrup at every feast and fair.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BLACK RAVEN OF GLENGARRY.\n\n\nThe boundary line between the estates of Glengarry and Kintail was, for\nages, a winding river (_amhuinn cham_, literally \u201ccrooked river\u201d) which\noften overflowed its banks, changed its course, and made encroachments\non the land, sometimes on one side and as frequently on the other,\ncausing disputes and quarrels, in regard to their respective rights and\nlimits, between the proprietors of the estates which it separated; the\ntenantry (_an tuath_) on each property taking the part of their chief\nwhen the strife ran high. In order to put an end to the quarrelling\nthe Chief of Glengarry (_Mac \u2019Ic Alasdair_) at this time insisted on\na straight line being drawn to mark the boundary between them, but\nMacKenzie of Kintail would not give his assent to any proposal for\nchanging the old line which followed the course of the river, and the\nfeud broke out afresh (_bha an tabaid air a bonn a rithist_). Glengarry\nhad three sons, and in the skirmish that took place on that occasion\nthe two eldest sons were killed. The youngest having been left at home\non account of his youth, escaped the fate of his brothers. He became\nknown afterwards as the Black Raven of Glengarry. When he grew up to\nmanhood his father said to him one day, \u201cAn insulting message (_fios\nt\u00e0mailteach_) has been sent to me from Kintail about the boundary line,\nand I must accept the challenge and gather the men, and you must go\nwith us.\u201d \u201cIf it is fighting you have in view,\u201d said the Raven, \u201cyou\nmust do it yourself, for me; my two dear brothers were killed through\nyour foolish quarrels, and I would have been killed also if I had been\nold enough to be with them at the time, but since I can now understand\nhow trifling the cause is, I will let yourselves be fighting.\u201d His\nfather could only gather his men and go to the contest without him.\nWhen they were out of sight, the Raven put on his best suit of armour\nand took several turns round the hill to elude the notice of any\nstraggler who might have been left, and then set off at his utmost\nspeed to get in advance of his father and men. Before evening closed\nhe was at the head of Loch Duich, where he passed the night. Next day\nhe procured a plaid of MacKenzie tartan which he wrapped round him to\ndisguise the red badge (_suaicheantas dearg_) of Glengarry, and made\nhis way to the enemy\u2019s headquarters at Donan Isle (_Eilean donnan_),\nwhere the Kintail men were rapidly gathering to the fray. It was\ncustomary in those days to set a large long table (_b\u00f2rd m\u00f2r fada_)\nsupplied with abundance of food and drink for the entertainment of the\nmen who assembled from far and near. The Chief sat at the head, and\nevery man on taking his place stuck his dirk (_biodag_) in the edge\nof the table in front of him before sitting down. The Black Raven got\nin among the men unnoticed, and when the Chief of Kintail came in, he\nsaid to the man who was beside him, \u201cI wish to sit next to Kintail.\u201d\nHis appearance did not betray him, and no one objected to his request,\nbut when he was taking the seat beside the Chief, he threw MacKenzie\nbackwards on the ground and put his foot upon him to keep him down,\nand the point of his dirk resting on the breast of the prostrate man.\nHis plaid having slipped aside, the red (_an dearg_) was exposed, and\nin an instant a hundred dirks were ready to riddle him (_g\u2019 a dheanamh\n\u2019n a chriathar-tholl_); but he said, commanding them, \u201cThe moment I am\napproached, your Chief will be a dead man.\u201d \u201cIf I fall,\u201d he said to the\nChief, \u201cit will be on the hilt of my own weapon, and you will never\nrise--its point is on your breast, and any attempt to take my life\nimperils yours. I did not come here for war but for peace, and unless\nyou will consent to lay aside all animosities, and solemnly promise\nnever to renew this quarrel, your life is forfeited. I have only to\npress the hilt of this dagger, on which my hand rests, and whatever\nfate awaits me you will have no more power to do harm.\u201d Kintail agreed\nto make peace, and gave his oath twice on the cold iron of the dirk on\nhis breast that he would faithfully keep his promise. The Black Raven,\nafter sharing in the hospitalities provided for the occasion, returned\nhome, the Chief and men of Kintail accompanying him part of the way.\nWhen he met his father with his band of fighting men, he told them to\nreturn home, that he had done alone more than they had ever been able\nto do with all their boasting and fighting; he had put an end to their\nfighting, and got a guarantee for a lasting peace without one drop of\nbloodshed, and henceforth if he found any one among them making or\nrenewing the quarrel, he would give the Chief of Kintail full liberty\nto treat them as he saw proper.\n\nThe friendship then made between the Chieftains was ever afterwards\nsteadily maintained by them, and the Raven became one of the most\ndistinguished men in the service of his country at that time.\n\n\n\n\nCAILLEACH POINT, OR THE OLD WIFE\u2019S HEADLAND,\n\n\nIs one of the stormiest and most dangerous headlands on the west coast\nof Scotland. From base to top it is rocky, and for a considerable\ndistance on each side.\n\nIt faces the Island of Coll, and commands a view of the Point of\nArdnamurchan, from which it is distant about seven or eight miles. At\nits base there is a strong tidal channel which has never been known to\nbe dry at the lowest ebb tide. From its highest point the spectre of\n\u201cHugh of the Little Head\u201d is said to cross on horseback to Coll to\ngive warning, as he is wont to do, to any descendants of the house of\nLochbuie of their approaching end. Hugh is said to have had his head\ncut off by a broad sword in one of the clan skirmishes of old times. He\nhas his head in a blaze of fire, and the tracks of his horse seen on\nthe snow shew only three legs, and the terror of children and credulous\npeople is increased by his being said to drag a chain after him. To the\nsouth of the Point there is a cave, which becomes accessible only when\nthe tide has half fallen. Its Gaelic name is _Uamh Bhuaile nan Drogh_.\nWild pigeons tenant it, and are seen emerging when the tide has fallen.\nThe cooing sound of the birds heard under water seems to have led to\nthe name, which means, the Cave of the Cattle-fold of the fairies, and\nit is noticeable that the word _Drogh_ denotes that it first received\nits name from a Teutonic source, very possibly from the race that came\nultimately to tenant the Orkney islands. It is said, however, that\nDutchmen possessed the fisheries on the west coast of Scotland, and\nit has been suggested that the word _Drogh_ is from Dragnet, which\nthey kept in the cave. The tides which sweep past this point render it\nmore difficult and dangerous to get past in a head wind than even the\nPoint of Ardnamurchan, of which the dangerous character is well known.\nTo the north of the Point in the direction of Croig in Mull, there is\nan indentation which is called _Achlais na Caillich_ (the old woman\u2019s\noxter or armpit) where salmon nets are set. It has been characterised\nas not the armpit of a smooth woman (_Achlais na mn\u00e0 m\u00ecne_) and the\nstory which is said to have given its name to the Headland, is, that an\nold woman was gathering shell-fish in the neighbourhood when the tide\nbegan to make, and the woman finding no other means of escape made a\nlast effort by climbing up the rocks. When at the top, and almost out\nof danger, she said \u201cI am safe now, in spite of God and men\u201d (_Tha\nmi tearuinte nis ge b\u2019 oil le Dia \u2019s le daoine_). She was converted\ninto a stone forming part of the rock distinctly to be seen from the\nhighest point of _Cailleach_. It is said that the figure of the old\nwoman was very distinctly to be seen at first, and hence the name of\nthe Headland, but time has done its own work and the figure is not now\nso unmistakable. Even the origin of the name is only known to those who\nare natives of the neighbourhood.\n\nOn one occasion, the writer being himself ensconced under the side deck\nof a smack, then plying to the island, heard a Tiree boatman, who was\nconversing with a minister from the south of Argyleshire, and had no\nfancy for the overly pious talk of the too-zealous stranger, remarking\nthat there was an old woman here and when she gave a snort, she could\nbe heard over in Coll. [\u201c_Tha Cailleach an so \u2019s tr\u00e0 n\u00ec i sreothart\ncluinnidh iad \u2019an Cola i._\u201d] The minister said that that was most\nextraordinary, and as it now began to rain the boatman began to exhort\nhim to go below, and professed much regard for the minister\u2019s health.\nAt last he got rid of him.\n\n\n\n\nA TRADITION OF ISLAY.\n\n\nThe western isles according to tradition were thinly inhabited for a\nlong period of years, after the defeat and expulsion of the Norsemen.\nThese invaders had left few of the natives alive and the land remained\ndesolate. The first man then who took possession of the country was\npowerful John MacConnal who was called, the shepherd of the isles,\nand the first of the lords of the isles (_Iain m\u00f2r Maconuil ris an\nabairteadh buachaille nan eileanan, b\u2019e ceud tighearna nan eileanan_).\nHe had seven sons, among whom, when they came of age, he began to\ndivide his possessions, but the Highlands and isles being too limited\nin his opinion for division among so many, he went away to Ireland\nwith one of his sons, to overthrow one or more of the five kings by\nwhom that country was then governed, and put his son in possession of\nany territory he might acquire in the contest, leaving his eldest son\nin Islay, which was the first of the isles possessed by him. In this\nenterprise he succeeded in seizing that part of Ireland then under the\nauthority of the Earl of Antrim, and gave it to his son, whose nephew\ncame from Islay, when some years had passed, to see him in Antrim. This\nnephew during one of those visits fell in love with a noblewoman of the\ncountry whom he asked in marriage. His proposal being agreed to, he was\nrequested, as was then the custom, to name the dowry he wanted with\nher. His request was 700 men who had nicknames (_far-ainmeannan_) to\ntake with him to Islay. In those days, it is said, that great men and\nnobles only had pseudonyms and he took this method of getting these and\ntheir followers to repeople the isles, and their descendants are yet to\nbe found in many parts of the country as well as in the islands.\n\n\nNOTES:\n\n Islay is separated from the island of Jura by the sound of Islay and\n lies west of Cantyre in Argyleshire. Its extent is 25 miles long and\n 17 miles broad. The south west point is called the Rhinns (_an roinn\n Ileach_). The island is hilly and penetrated by an arm of the sea,\n Lochindaal, which is 12 miles long and 8 miles broad. There are good\n crops grown on the island and cattle are reared and fish is abundant\n on its coasts. A small quantity of various kinds of ore is found\n throughout the island, but its distilleries are its chief industry at\n the present day. It was in former times the chief residence of the\n Lords of the Isles, and the ruins of castles, forts, and chapels are\n numerous and interesting as records of a past age.\n\n The Beatons or Bethunes and MacLarty are said to have been among\n those who came from Ireland with _MacConuil_. The latter being\n descendants of grey haired Niel (_Nial Liath_) who was interpreter\n (_fear-labhairt_) for Maconnal, hence the name. It is told of Niel,\n that being at one time surrounded by his enemies in a battle, he was\n commanded to deliver his sword. \u201cIf I do,\u201d he said, \u201cit will be by the\n point\u201d (_ma liubhras, \u2019sann an aghaidh a ranna_), and cleaving his way\n through them he escaped and joined his companions.\n\n After his settlement in the western island MacConnal (_Iain M\u00f2r\n MacConuill_) is said to have divided his possessions among his\n seven sons by sending one of them John (_Iain_) to Glencoe, hence\n the patronymic Clan of the son of John of Glencoe (_Clann \u2019ic Iain\n Ghleann-a-comhunn_), another son Ronald (_Raonull_) was sent to\n Keppoch (_a\u2019 Cheapaich_), one Allan (_Ailean_) was sent to Moidart\n (_M\u00f9ideart_). These were settled on the mainland in the counties of\n Argyle and Inverness, while the island of Skye was given to another\n son, Grim Donald of Sleat, (_D\u00f2mhnull gorm Shl\u00e9ibhte_). Another son\n got the smaller isles, and another went to Ireland and became Earl of\n Antrim while the heir remained in Islay and held the adjacent islands\n as well as portions of the mainland. Of the 700 who returned with\n his son from Antrim to people the islands after the expulsion of the\n Norsemen, 22 were heads of families. The person from whom the writer\n heard this, now above 70 years of age, was certain that Beaton or\n Bethune was one of the names, but he had forgotten the others.\n\n\n\n\nFAIR LACHLAN, SON OF FAIR NEIL OF DERVAIG.\n\n(_Lachunn fionn mac Neill bh\u00e0in, Fear Dhearbhaig._)\n\n\nAt the time when Lachlan Kattanach was Chief of MacLean (_ri linn\nMhic-\u2019illeathain Lachunn Cattanach na gruaige_), his wife (_a\nbhantighearna_) dreamt about an Irish chief of the name of William\nO\u2019Power (?) (_Uilleam O\u2019 buaidh_) and in the same way, at the same\ntime, this Irish Chief dreamt about her. It happened then that they\nbegan to communicate with each other. (At that time more trade was\ncarried on with Ireland by these Western Isles than with any other\nplace.) One day MacLean discovered that his wife was keeping on a\ncorrespondence, unknown to him, with the Irish Chief, and was much\ndistressed about this injury to his honour. In order to test his wife\u2019s\naffection for her secret lover, he went to her with a penknife in his\nhand and said, \u201cThere is a present _O\u2019 buaidh_ has sent you.\u201d She\nlooked at the knife and said,\n\n \u201cMy darling who sent me the knife\n I weary at his delay in coming across the sea,\n And may I not enjoy health\n If I do love it better than the hand that holds it.\u201d\n\n (M\u2019 eudail \u2019chuir thugam an sgian\n \u2019S fhada leam a thriall thar muir,\n \u2019S na \u2019n a mheall mi mo shl\u00e0int\u2019\n Mur docha leam i na\u2019n lamh \u2019sa bheil).\n\nMacLean was then convinced of his wife\u2019s disgrace, and went away\nand sent for his kinsman, Fair Lachlan (_Lachunn fionn_) who was\nthen at Hynish, and who, on receiving a message from his Chief, went\nimmediately to Island House. On reaching, MacLean said to him, \u201cI sent\nfor you to go to Ireland; you are a clever man and you have seven sons,\ngo and bring me the head of O\u2019Power, and any crime you may commit,\nor any injustice you may from this time do to any one, will be over\nlooked by me (_tha thu \u2019n ad dhuine tapaidh \u2019s seachdnar mhac agad,\nfalbh \u2019s thoir g\u2019 am ionnsuidh ceann Uilleam O\u2019 buaidhe \u2019s aona chron\nna anaceart sam bith n\u00ec thu theid a mhathadh dhuit leamsa_). Next day,\n_Lachunn fionn_ with his sons set off in the galley, and before sundown\nhe was in Islay. The following day he was in Ireland, and asked the\nfirst person he met for the man he was tracing (_a bha e air a luirg_).\n\u201cIf you wish to see him,\u201d the person said, \u201che is coming this way, in\na coach drawn by two white horses, and no one in Ireland has that but\nhimself.\u201d The old man then went on to try and meet him, and after going\na short distance he saw him coming towards him to meet him (_chaidh\nan sean duine air aghaidh feuch an tachradh e air, \u2019s an ceann ceum\nna dh\u00e0 chunnaic e e tighinn \u2019na choinneamh \u2019s \u2019na ch\u00f2mhail_). When he\ncame near, O\u2019Power (_O\u2019 buaidh_) commanded him to stop, and said, \u201cI\nsee you are a stranger in the place?\u201d \u201cIndeed,\u201d he replied, (_seadh\nars\u2019 esan_). \u201cWhence have you come?\u201d the Chief asked, (_Co \u00e1s a th\u00e0inig\nthu?_). \u201cI came from Tiree,\u201d he answered. \u201cDo you know the lady of\nMacLean there?\u201d \u201cI know her well,\u201d he said. \u201cWill you bring her a\nmessage from me?\u201d (_An toir thu fios uam g\u2019 a h-ionnsuidh?_) \u201cI will,\u201d\nhe said, (_bheir, ars\u2019 esan_). The chief there and then put the message\nin order, and put his head out of the coach to deliver it, but the\nother, while taking it with the one hand, struck off his head with the\nother hand. (_Sin fh\u00e9in chuir e \u2019n teachdaireachd air doigh \u2019s chuir e\nmach a cheann g\u2019 a toirt d\u00e0, \u2019s \u2019nuair bha e \u2019ga gabhail leis an aona\nlaimh thilg e dheth an ceann leis an laimh eile_). The man-servant was\nstupified (lit. went astray), (_chaidh an gille air seacharan_), and\nFair Lachlan got an opportunity (_fhuair e f\u00e0th_) of taking the head\nwith him to the galley with which he set sail (_leig e ri cuain di_)\nand was in Islay on his return journey that evening. Next day after\n(_maireach \u2019na dheighinn sin_) he was in Tiree, and went early in the\nday to Island House (_do \u2019n eilean_). Finding, on reaching, that\nMacLean and his wife were at breakfast, he went in where they were and\nput the head of the Irish Chief on the end of the table, with the face\ntowards MacLean\u2019s wife. She looked at it and fell down stone dead at\nthe side of the table (_sheall i air \u2019s thuit i fuar marbh aig taobh a\u2019\nbh\u00f9ird_). Some time after this Fair Lachlan\u2019s sons were taking peats\nhome from Moss to Hynish. There were five of them with seven horses,\nwhich were fastened together, and went on one after another, having a\nsort of deep basket (_cliabh_) slung on each side of each horse for\nthe conveyance of burdens. On account of Big Dewar of Balemartin,\nwho was so fierce, (_co fiadhaich_) they could not take the straight\nway by Balemartin to Hynish, but had to take the more rugged path by\nHynish hill, where, at _Creag nan cliabh_ (Creel rock) the footpath\nwas so narrow that on these occasions a person was in waiting to be in\nreadiness to take the creels off the horses and carry them past the\nrock. At that time, there was a mill past Balviceon, with a bridge\nacross the dam which had to be lifted before sundown, and on their way\nthey had to pass across the bridge. It happened on this occasion that\nthe young men, by their own folly (_le \u2019n amaideachd fhein_), were\nlater than usual of returning, and the bridge was withdrawn; and with\nthe speed with which they were going on, they did not observe that the\nbridge was lifted, and the foremost of the horses went headlong into\nthe dam and was choked (_air a thachdadh_). The lads made their way\nhome, and told their father how the miller had taken away the bridge,\nand what had happened to them. He said, \u201cIf my horse was choked on\nhis account (_air a th\u00e0illibh_), the same thing will be done to him\nto-night yet\u201d; and that was what happened. He and his sons went back\nthe same way, step by step, (_air a\u2019 cheart cheum_), and they caught\nthe poor man while he was asleep (_rug iad air an duine \u2019na leabaidh_)\nand took him with them and hung him on the hillock of the cross (_bac\nna croiche_), opposite Island House. When a servant went in early\nnext morning to kindle a fire in the room where MacLean was, he asked\nwhat sort of day it was. The servant said that it was a good day, but\nthat a strange sight was to be seen (_ni a tha cuir ioghnadh m\u00f3r orm ri\nfhaicinn_). \u201cWhat is that?\u201d the Chief asked. \u201cIt is a man hung on the\nhillock up yonder (_duine air a chrochadh air a\u2019 chroich shuas ud_).\nMacLean said, as he rose up, \u201cWho or what person dared do this without\nmy permission? (_Co an aona duine \u2019san d\u00f9thaich aig an robh \u2019chridh\nleithid so dheanamh gun chuir \u2019nam cheadsa?_) When he saw the deed that\nwas done, he shed bitter tears, and said that no one had done this but\nFair Lachlan (_cha d\u2019 rinn duine riamh so ach Lachunn fionn_). \u201cIt was\nin the agreement I made with him when he brought me the man\u2019s head from\nIreland.\u201d This was the last hanging that was done in the island (_b\u2019e\nso an crochadh mu dheireadh a rinneadh \u2019s an eilean_).\n\n[Illustration: THE MESSAGE DELIVERED TO THE LOVER AND THE MANNER OF HIS\nDEATH.]\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDARY HISTORY.\n\n\n\n\nPRINCESS THYRA OF ULSTER AND HER LOVERS.\n\nA STORY OF LOCHMAREE.[21]\n\n\nAt one time the King of Denmark is said to have sent his son to the\nScottish court along with six others (_seisear eile_). They landed in\nCaithness, where, as they came chiefly for sport, they began to look\nfor deer and other wild animals, and to enquire where they were to be\nfound. They were told that all animals of the chase had become scarce\nsince more people had come to that part, but that in the neighbouring\nparts of the country, especially in Ross-shire, they were still\nnumerous, and if they went there they would get abundant sport. They\nwent, and while they remained lived in a house of the MacKenzies\u2019, near\nLochmaree. One day then, when following deer in the hill, the young\nprince got separated from his companions, who each and all found their\nway safely home. When he came in sight of the house, being fatigued,\nhe sat down by the roadside and fell asleep. He was awakened by the\nsound of voices, and on looking he saw two men, one of whom was young\nand the other old, coming on the road towards him with a young woman\nwalking between. He got up, and as they were coming nearer he was\nmaking out that he never saw a more beautiful woman. He stood before\nthem and spoke. The old man said, \u201cYou are doing wrong in delaying us\non our way.\u201d \u201cMethinks,\u201d said the young prince, \u201cthat I am not doing\nany thing out of the way, nor have I spoken a wrong word.\u201d The old man\ngot angry, and calling him rough names said he was ill-bred. \u201cThat was\nnot the way in which I was taught,\u201d the prince answered, \u201cI have the\nblood of the kings of Denmark in my veins, and I am inclined to put\nyour head as low as your shoes for your ill words (_air son do dhroch\nbheul_) which I have not deserved.\u201d When the old man heard this he\nbecame afraid, and made excuses for the warmth of temper he had shewn,\nbut said he was under vows to protect the girl from all intrusion,\n\u201cthe reason being that she is with us under the vows of the church\n(_fo naomhachadh na h-eaglais_), by her father\u2019s commands,\u201d and told\nhim that they came ashore from the monastery of Isle-maree and were to\nreturn before nightfall. \u201cI would like well to know who the maiden is\nwhom you befriend,\u201d said the young prince. \u201cThe name of the daughter\nis,\u201d the old man answered, \u201cPrincess Thyra (_Deorath_) of the house\nof Ulster in Ireland--and let us now pass.\u201d In the parting the young\nprince said to the maiden, \u201cAs this has been our first meeting, so I\nfear it is to be our last: Farewell!\u201d \u201cI do not say,\u201d she answered. He\nwent home, but, after some days, returned to the same place expecting\nto see the same company, but no one came ashore from the islet that\nday. The next time he went he waited two days in vain, and the third\ntime three days, and returned home in the same way ill-pleased at his\nmischance. He then resolved to go to the isle if there was a way of\ngetting to it. He was told that a man on the other side of the loch\nhad a boat, and he went to him and got him to go with him. On landing,\nthe man pointed out to him the way to the monastery, and told him that\nhe would come to a well, which he was not to pass till he drank of its\nwater; that the well was famed for its efficacy in every malady to\nwhich mankind is subject, and especially in restoring those who had\nlost their reason; \u201cand beside the well,\u201d said the man, \u201cthere is a\ntree with a hollow in its side (_slochd \u2019n a taobh_), and no one goes\npast it without putting something of more or less value in.\u201d The youth\nwent ashore, and, heedless of tree and well, reached the house and\ndemanded admittance at the first door he met. When asked what brought\nhim, or why he came, he said he came to see the Irish princess. He was\ntold that could not be (_ni nach gabhadh deanamh_). He then asked if\nthere was any one in authority of whom he could make the request, and\nwas told there was the oldest of rank in the monastery, who, when he\ncame, said, \u201cNo! you cannot see the princess.\u201d The young man then told\nwho he was, and said, \u201cIf I want her for my wife and she consents, can\nyou prevent the union?\u201d \u201cWe will leave the matter to her own will,\u201d\nthe old man answered. She came gladly, and the prince spent that\nday on the islet. Before he left she said, \u201cI have a doubt in this\nmatter.\u201d \u201cWhat is that?\u201d he asked. \u201cIt is that I never saw you but\nonce before now, neither did you see me, and if love comes quickly,\nit may go as quickly.\u201d \u201cYou know that from yourself,\u201d he said. \u201cNo,\u201d\nshe answered. He told her to look at the evening star, which was to be\nseen in the south-western sky, and said, \u201cAs truly as that star shines\non yonder hill, so truly do I love you.\u201d \u201cI have another doubt,\u201d she\nsaid. \u201cYour doubts are very many,\u201d he said. Her doubt was, that Red\nHector of the hills, as he was called from being among the hills day\nand night, would be a dangerous foeman if he met him on his way. He\nreturned, landed, and having cause, as he thought, to be pleased with\nevents, was going on joyously and light-hearted, whistling as he went\nalong. He was not far on his way when an arrow passed close to his\nface; the next one stuck in his bonnet. He stood looking about him and\nsaw a big man standing beside a rock that was at the roadside before\nhim. \u201cWhat sort of man are you, when you are going to make a target\nof me?\u201d the prince said. \u201cHave you never heard of Red Hector of the\nhills (_Eachann Ruadh nan cnoc_)? If you have not, you now see him and\nwill feel his skill. There is a matter to settle between us which can\nnever be done but in one way, and that is, that you kill me or I kill\nyou.\u201d They took their swords, one each (_claidheamh an t-aon_), blood\nwas shed; the prince then asked if there was no other way of settling\nthe matter except by bloodshed. \u201cDo not waste speech (_Na bi \u2019cosg do\nsheanachais_); that you kill me or I kill you, there is no other way,\u201d\nhe said, and struck the prince on the side with his sword and sorely\nwounded him. He fell and his enemy fled. The wounded man kept his hand\non the wound, but whenever he moved the blood spurted from it, and he\nwas passing the night in that way till his tongue became swollen in his\nmouth. In the midst of his agony he heard the drip of a streamlet in\nthe hollow underneath where he lay, and tried to move himself towards\nit, but could not, though he made every effort. At last he thought\nit was better to bleed to death than die of thirst, and by dragging\nhimself along he reached the water, but before he got to drink of it\nhe fainted and lay beside the streamlet till next day, when those, the\nhumane people (_na daoine cneasda_), who came ashore in the boat heard\nhis moaning, and recognising him, took him back to the islet, where\nhe remained unconscious for many weeks, during which his own men, who\nhad been brought to the isle, and the princess attended him. When he\nrecovered and knew that the maiden\u2019s constant care and watchfulness\nhad helped to restore him to life, he expressed much gratitude. \u201cWhen\nyou are up and well,\u201d she said, \u201cit will be time to thank me.\u201d He kept\ntelling her every day how he would take her to Denmark. One day then\na ship was seen coming, from which a boat was sent ashore to take\naway the maiden, whose father lay dying. \u201cWill you return?\u201d he said.\n\u201cI will return,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd you will not forget me among your own\npeople.\u201d \u201cNothing but death will prevent my return,\u201d she said. She went\naway, and nothing was heard of her for many days. In his impatience\nthe prince sent men from day to day to the top of the highest hills to\nlook for the ship. At last they saw three ships coming, and the first\nhad the royal flag of Ireland in its topmast. Some time before the\nmaiden left the islet, the prince one day when on land met an old man\nwho intercepted him; his men bade the intruder keep to one side of the\nroad, but the man refused to be put aside, and the prince then asked\nwhat his business was with him. \u201cDo not speak so gruffly,\u201d the old man\nsaid, \u201cI have come to you, as I am in need of shelter, to ask if you\nwill take me into your service while you are here.\u201d \u201cMy burden is on\nothers at present,\u201d the prince said, \u201cand little an old man like you\nwith a staff in his hand can do to help me. Have you a house or home?\u201d\n\u201cI had till yesterday; to-day I have nothing. I had house, wife, son,\nland, cattle, and yesterday every beast that I had was lifted, except\na stray sheep, and my son went in search of it and fell over the rocks\n(_chaidh am balach leis na creagan_) and was killed. When his mother\nheard what had happened to him she went to the place, and on seeing her\nson dead she leapt in the sea and was drowned, and I am left alone.\nIf you will take me with you I will do you more service in the hills\nthan a younger man can do.\u201d He said his name was MacKenzie (_D\u00f9ghall\nMacChoinnich_). The prince took him to be with them while they remained\nin the isle.\n\nWhen the ships were seen the prince went to the highest summit of the\nhills, taking with him, among the rest, the old man, who on their way\nsaid, \u201cDelay (_air do shocair_), till I tell you my dream.\u201d \u201cI care\nnaught for dreams,\u201d the other said. \u201cWill you not listen, for I dreamt\nthe same dream three nights after each other; and it was that she was\ndead.\u201d \u201cWe wish to get joyous news and you have given us instead news\nof sorrow.\u201d The old man then said, \u201cI will go to the ship, and when I\nreach, if all is well you will see a red signal, and if sorrow awaits\nyou it will be a black one.\u201d He went, and on reaching, she was there.\nShe knew him and asked if all was well. He told her, and she said, \u201cHe\nis impatient for news.\u201d He then persuaded the princess, against her\nown will and the advice of those around her, to shew the death-signal,\nsaying the joy of seeing her living would compensate her lover for the\ndeception. When the signal was seen by those on land, the prince said\nhe could no longer live, and took his dagger from its sheath and killed\nhimself. When the princess reached the shore, those who met her told\nher how her lover, believing that she was dead, had killed himself. She\nasked where he was, and said that no seen or unseen power could prevent\nher from taking a last farewell, and that she would go alone and do no\ninjury to herself. When she was going in where the dead body lay, she\nnoticed that some one was following her, and turning she saw that the\nintruder was the old man, \u201cWretched Dugall (_a dhroch Dh\u00f9ghaill_), what\nevil advice you gave me.\u201d \u201cThat is not my name,\u201d he said, \u201cI am Red\nHector of the hills, and this is my revenge!\u201d and he killed her with\nhis dirk. He then disappeared and was never seen or heard of in the\ncountry after that time.\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[21] Lochmaree is in the west of Ross-shire. It lies S.E. and N.W., and\nhas 24 islets throughout its length of about 18 miles. Its breadth is\nfrom one to two miles, and its depth prevents its water from freezing.\n\n\n\n\nGARLATHA.\n\nA TRADITION OF HARRIS.\n\n\nAt one time it is said the outermost of the western isles formed three\nseparate and independent possessions; the northern part of the Long\nIsland (_an t-eilean fada_),[22] Lewis (_Le\u00f2dhais_), was held by one\nCenmal (_Ceannamhaol_ [baldhead]), who was a king, while the southern\nportion, Harris (_na h-Earra_), was owned by a prince; and another\nking, one named Keligan [thin one], possessed Uist, which is further\nsouth. In this way Lewis and Uist had each a king, while there was only\na prince in Harris. This prince, who was famed for his courage and\nbravery, was held in great esteem by those on his land for the good\nadvice (_na comhairlean dealbhach_) they readily got from him and the\nbenefits he conferred on them. He discouraged bickerings and jealousy\n(_farmad_) among his subordinates and neighbours, and spread among\nthem a knowledge of many useful arts. He encouraged manual labour as\nwell as manly exercise and the recitation of poems, romance, etc. His\nwife, Garlatha, was not less namely for her goodness to those around\nher, among whom she promoted thrifty and industrious habits, and taught\nthe use and methods of preparing different kinds of roots, grain and\nplants, for food and healing, and to be kind and tender to the weak\nand infirm, and to live good lives. In this way the people on their\nland were contented with their condition and sought no change. Garlatha\ndied, it is said, about 800 A.D.--a long time ago, but whatever it\nwas, she went away, (and it was not to be helped), leaving an infant\ndaughter who was named after her mother, Garlatha. As the girl grew up\nit was seen that she inherited her mother\u2019s good gifts, and the people\nwere equally well pleased with her. In time she began to be spoken\nabout and heard of, and was sought in marriage by numerous suitors. The\nking who ruled in Lewis was eager in pursuit of her (_\u2019an t\u00f2ir oirre_),\nand crossed over to see her. The ruler (_fear-riaghlaidh_) of Uist came\non the same errand. One day then her father said to her, \u201cDaughter, I\nwish to see you married, before the end of my life comes, to a good\nman, and I am looking to see which of those men who come to see you is\nthe most suitable, and I see that it will suit you best to take him\nwho is in Lewis.\u201d His daughter preferred the one who owned Uist, but\nby her father\u2019s advice word was sent to the possessor of Lewis to come\nand that he would get her. He came, and being well pleased with his\nreception every arrangement was made, and they were married. Afterwards\nthe bride said to a maid, \u201cYou will go in to the entertainment\n(_fleadh_) and among the company: I am going to hide myself.\u201d This was\ndone, and the company sat at the feast without the bride, for whose\ncoming a long delay was made. When it was seen that she would not\nreturn, the question of what had become of her or where she was, was\nasked of every one, but no one knew. The maid was asked, but she had\nnot any knowledge or tale (_fios no sgeul_) to tell of where the lost\none was to be found. The time was passing _(bha \u2019n \u00f9ineachd \u2019ruith_)\nand search was made outside for her, but she was not found. Then they\nlooked for her from place to place, where it was possible to find her,\nbut without success. The night passed, leaving the feast untouched and\nthe guests cheerless. Next day the search was renewed along the shores\nand among the hills, and in every direction from day to day, till\nthere was not a spot between Barra Head and the Butt of Lewis where a\nbird could sleep, that was not searched, but there was no trace of her\n(_cha d\u2019 fhuaireadh riamh i, cha d\u2019 fhuaireadh idir i_). The father\ncontinued to wander about, searching in vain, for many years after\nall hope of finding her was dead, till at last he was seen to turn\nevery leaf he met with the staff in his hand, and even to look under\nragweed (_buaghallan_). He died, and she was not found. The place,\nHarris, was then 200 years without any one to own it (_thug an t-\u00e0ite\nsin d\u00e0 cheud bliadhna gun duine ann_). MacLeod (_fear Mac Le\u00f2id_) then\ntook possession of the country and began to build new houses; the\nold dwellings had become uninhabitable (_air dol f\u00e0s_); the roof had\nfallen in (_thuit an ceann \u2019n am broinn_). When clearing out one of\nthese an old chest was found, and on lifting it the lower part remained\non the ground, with the skeleton of a woman resting in it, each bone\naccording to its place (_cn\u00e0imh a r\u00e9ir cn\u00e0imh_), and by its side the\nwedding-ring, as new as it was on the day it was put on her finger,\nwith the name \u201cGarlatha\u201d engraved on it, and from that the story came.\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[22] The Long Island includes the whole of the land between the Butt of\nLewis and Barra Head.\n\n\n\n\nSTORIES ABOUT THE FAIRIES.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TRADITION OF A HOUSEWIFE AND HER FAIRY VISITOR.\n\n\nThe incidents of this tradition are said to have happened in Lewis, but\nthe readiness with which similar stories are appropriated and localised\nmakes it improbable that the circumstances occurred in any special\nlocality. In this instance the person from whom the story was heard\nbeing a native of Lewis will account for the incidents of the story\nhaving been said to have taken place in that Island. The story is as\nfollows:--\n\nThe wife of a tenant farmer, who lived with his family in an extremely\nremote and hilly rough district, was frequently left alone in the\nhouse, as she had no daughters, while her husband and sons were away at\nthe labour of the farm, or fishing. It happened one day after they had\nleft, that the housewife having finished her housework, sat as usual at\nthe spinning-wheel to spin thread for cloth (_cl\u00f2_) for their clothing.\nShe had not long begun her labour, when, happening to look towards the\ndoor, she saw a little woman of reddish appearance coming in at the\ndoor with a dog before and one after her. \u201cWoman,\u201d she said, \u201cyou are\nspinning.\u201d \u201cI am,\u201d the housewife answered. \u201cWill you give me a drink of\nwater?\u201d she said. \u201cTake it yourself,\u201d the housewife said. \u201cThe water is\ngood, where is the well?\u201d she asked. \u201cIt is down,\u201d said the one who was\nin, \u201cin the opening of the hollow of the glen (_aig dorus \u2019an lag a\u2019\nghlinne_).\u201d The fay woman (_a\u2019 bhean-sh\u00ecth_) then asked the housewife\nto lend her a small cauldron, and the other woman believing her to be\nsister-in-law or some other relative she did not know of the wife of\nher nearest neighbour, who lived far distant from them and was married\nto an Ardnamurchan woman, said to her, \u201cThere is a table there with\nseveral utensils (_caigionn choireachan_) on its shelf; take with you\nany of them that will answer.\u201d When she brought it, she asked for the\nsuspender (_b\u00f9las_) and lid. The moment she got them she fitted them in\nand told the dogs that were with her to take that with them. The dogs\nimmediately caught the three-legged pot and took it with them. When\nher husband came home the housewife said, \u201cI think there is a stranger\nwith our neighbours,\u201d and told him about her visitor. \u201cPerhaps,\u201d her\nhusband said, \u201cshe is the sister-in-law; it was time some one came to\nsee the wife, for none of her friends have been since she came here.\u201d\n\u201cI never saw the sort of dogs she had, ever here,\u201d his wife said, and\ndescribed to him the dogs and how they were different altogether from\nsheep-dogs. \u201cOur neighbours have only one dog and it is a sheep-dog,\u201d\nhe said. This day passed and another and the third, but the cauldron\nwas not returned. The housewife then sent one of her sons to ask the\nneighbours to return the loan. These said that they did not get a loan\nof anything, as they did not require it, having more cauldrons and\nkettles than was required by themselves, and that no strangers had\ncome or were with them. The housewife was at her wit\u2019s end and did\nnot know in the world or time to come (_uile bheatha na d\u00eclinn_) what\nto think about the matter. On the fifth day, however, the self-same\none returned with the cauldron. \u201cI am sure,\u201d she said, \u201cthat you were\nmissing the cauldron.\u201d \u201cI was,\u201d the housewife replied, \u201cnot from any\nneed I had of it at the time, but because I did not know who the one\nwas that took it away.\u201d \u201cI am sure you did not know who took it,\u201d\nsaid the one that came in, \u201cbut I knew you too well; many a day you\nsang songs above my house (_\u2019s iomadh latha \u2019sheinn thu luinneag air\nmullach an tigh agam_).\u201d \u201cWill you sit?\u201d said the one who was spinning.\n\u201cI will sit and tell my story if you are sure that no one will come\nin while I am here.\u201d As was customary in those days the byre adjoined\nthe dwelling-house, whatever kind of wall (_sg\u00e0th-balla_) separated\nthem, and one of the cows that had calved and was in the byre, made\na disturbance (_straighlich_). The next look the woman took she was\nalone. On her husband\u2019s return, she said, \u201cYou may not leave me here\nalone; one of the children must be left with me or I will be where you\nare;\u201d and she told him about the second time her strange visitor came\nand how suddenly she had disappeared. The goodman then went for advice\nto one, the minister, who he knew was able to give him good counsel. On\ntelling about the undesirable visitor his wife had, the advice he got\nwas that he was to pull down his house as quickly as possible, and to\nput it at the other end of the land; \u201cand when you will pull down your\nhouse, every particle (_h-uile pioc_) of the thatch that covers it is\nto be burnt within the rafters on which nine cogfuls of sea-water or\ncharmed (_naoi cuachan s\u00e0ile no uisge coisrigte_) is to be poured.\u201d\nThe goodman returned home with this advice. When his wife heard it she\nsaid that she must get women to help her to finish the cloth she was\nworking at, and it was agreed to give her the help she required. On\naccount of the dampness of the houses the method of keeping the thread\nand wool dry was by hanging them up to the rafters. Next morning the\ngoodwife missed a pile of wool from its place, but believing that it\nwas her son, who often played pranks on her, who had removed it, she\nsaid nothing regarding its disappearance. Next day, however, she was\nastonished at seeing her late strange visitor with another and a taller\none coming in. \u201cI am sure,\u201d said the little redhued one, \u201cyou were\nmissing the bag of wool We took it with us to help you, and there it is\nbrought home made into thread, and your own thread that we took with us\nfor a pattern (_leth-bhreac_); and any time you have thread to spin, we\nare ready to help you.\u201d The goodwife was overcome with fear and could\nnot utter a word to them. They went away, and she never saw themselves\nor their shadow (_an dubh no\u2019n dath_) ever afterwards. The house was\ntaken down and another was built where they chose it to be, but after\nsome time an old man saw five of the fairy company leaving the well at\nthe foot of the glen, each carrying a vessel full of water, and the\nplace where he saw them going in and lost sight of them, was afterwards\nquarried, and the stone taken from it was employed to build a church\nthat stands at the present day. An opening that was met with, in the\nquarry, where human bones were found, was supposed to be the place\nwhere the fairy band entered their dwelling.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WISE WOMAN OF DUNTULM AND THE FAIRIES.\n\n\nA Lord of the Isles, MacConnal (_Buachaille nan Eileinean_), long ago\nhad two sons, but only one could get the estate at his death. When that\nhappened the eldest son said one day to the youngest, \u201cYou are now left\nwithout anything, but, that you may not be altogether portionless, go\nto Duntulm and you will get there a piece of land that you will have to\nyourself.\u201d The lands of Duntulm, in the northern part of the Island of\nSkye, were at that time occupied by a prosperous tenantry, consisting\nchiefly of crofters and the holders of a few larger farms. The youngest\nbrother was told that the rent he would get from these tenants would\nmaintain him, and he was to build a house and marry a wife. He agreed\nto go to Duntulm, where he was not a long time settled till a claim was\nmade on his land for the king\u2019s dues, the crown tax being in proportion\nto the amount of land which he held. The first time the tax (_a\u2019 ch\u00ecs_)\nwas asked, he said, in answer to the demand which was made, \u201cI will\nnot pay any tax. Why should I pay it? What right has the king to get\nit?\u201d An order was sent to him every year for payment of the tax, but\nif it was, for six years he did not pay any of it (_cha do ph\u00e0idh e\nsgillinn_). At last the king sent fifty soldiers and one officer to\ntake the rent from him in spite of him (_thar \u2019amhaich_), and since he\nwould pay to neither king nor soldier, the lands were taken from him\nand they were now attached to the crown. The king was receiving the\nrevenue, and a Skye carl (_bodach Sgitheanach_) called John Donaldson\nMacWilliam (_Iain Mac Dh\u00f2mhnuil\u2019ic Uilleim_) was appointed a factor\nto collect the rents from the crofters. He lived sixteen miles from\nDuntulm, among the crofts, where he went twice a year to gather the\ntax. MacConnal\u2019s castle was built on a precipitous bank, on the west\nside of which there was a big pit into which every high tide sent a\nflow of water that kept it always full, forming a deep pool (_glumag_)\nthat sometimes proved dangerous to the unwary. One day it happened\nthat whatever a crofter, one Macrury, was doing at the castle, he fell\nheadlong into the pool, and however it was, whether he was killed by\nthe fall or drowned, he was found dead next day anyhow. He left two\nsons who were not of age to help their widowed mother, for whom much\nsympathy was felt by her neighbours on account of her being left so\nhelpless (_bha i air a f\u00e0gail cho lom_). Next spring after this the\ntwo lads were drowned in a boat with which they were bringing sea-ware\nhome, and being now alone she could not work her croft nor pay her\nrent. When everything was spent, and she had only one cow left of her\nfold of cattle, the factor came for the tax. On reaching the township\nhe took with him a carle, friendly to himself, to the widow\u2019s house,\nwhere the neighbours had gathered to ascertain the object of their\nvisit. When the factor was told that the poor woman had no means to pay\nher rent, he asked if she had no cattle. She said that she had only one\ncow and that it was grazing at some distance from the house. He asked\nit to be brought where he was, and when he saw it he said, \u201cIt is a\npity there are not more of the kind.\u201d Being the only one, it had got\nall the attention and was in good condition. She said she had no other.\nHe said, \u201cWe will keep this one for the dues.\u201d It was taken away from\nthe widow and put in a field that was surrounded by a stone wall, near\nthe castle, along with the small red pony which the factor had with\nhim. While he was in search of some one to drive it away, and taking\nhis dinner in the carle\u2019s house, the young men of Duntulm climbed over\nthe wall of the field, though high, and got out the animals, which they\ndrove to the shore, where a boat was in readiness in which they were\ntaken to the islet of Fladda (_Fladda \u2019chuain_), two miles off. The\nmen put them ashore there, and had their boat drawn up in Duntulm Bay\nbefore the factor and his companion returned to look for their property\nand found the park empty. On asking the men, who had again gathered,\nif they knew how the animals had escaped or where they were, they said\nthere was no gap in the wall known to them, and that the only person\nlikely to know of their whereabouts was a gifted woman who lived near\nthe castle, in search of whom two of them went. They found her at home,\non reaching the height where her house was, and told her all that had\noccurred, and how she was to go with them and say that the cattle had\nbeen charmed away to some wonderful place. Isabel said that she was\nnot well prepared to go that day. The men asked what preparation she\nlacked (_\u2019d\u00e9 an cion d\u00f2igh a bh\u2019 oirre_). She then asked for one of the\nmen\u2019s broad bonnets, and when she got it, rose, and leaving her hair,\nwhich was becoming grey, streaming over her shoulders, she put it on,\nand tying a goatskin round her, tying her shoes and making garters\nwith stripes of the same fur, she put a rope of straw round her waist\nand took a large staff in her hand. \u201cShe is prepared at last, and come\nnow,\u201d the men said. When she came in sight, the factor looked at her in\namazement, for he had never before seen a creature of her appearance.\nBefore she came near he called, \u201cWife, do you know where the horse and\ncow I put in the park are now?\u201d She paid no attention to him, but kept\non coming nearer (_cha do lag i air a ceum_), till she stood at his\nshoulder. \u201cTo whom did the animals belong?\u201d she asked him then. \u201cThe\ncow belonged to the king,\u201d he said, \u201cand the horse to myself.\u201d \u201cHow\ncould a cow belonging to the king be in this township?\u201d she asked.\n\u201cThis woman gave it to me for the tax,\u201d he said, pointing to the widow.\n\u201cShe did not give it to you; she said you took it with you; and it is\nnow that I understand the meaning of what happened when I was in my own\nhouse to-day, and heard an uproar (_straighlich_) in the air above that\nwas greater than any one could ever have heard, and on looking for the\ncause of it, there it was in a fire; and though all the fires that you\never saw were gathered together, they would not make one like it; and\nin the last of the fire (_\u2019an earball an teine_) I looked to see what\nthere was, and what was there but a horse and cow, while there were as\ngood as five thousand little men, the hill men (_muinntir nan cnoc_),\nwho were not larger than bottles, going on, on each side of the fire;\nand if you had as much knowledge of the dwellers of these hills as I\nhave, you would not touch the widow\u2019s portion, but if you are anxious\nto get back the animals--there before you, is the hill where they are,\nand where you can go and seek them, and if you can, find them.\u201d The\nman, who was terrified by her appearance and words, kept looking at\nher (_\u2019g a feitheamh_) and always drawing a step further off. He went\nhome without horse or cow, and however long he remained in the office\nhe held, the fear of the wise woman, (_Iseabal N\u2019ic Rao\u2019uill_) and the\nfairies kept him from ever returning to Duntulm. When he was out of\nsight of the township, the young men of Duntulm went to the islet where\nthey left the animals, which they brought back and gave to the poor\nwoman, who was then able to pay the tax.\n\n\n\n\nFOLK TALES.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO BROTHERS.\n\nA TALE OF ENCHANTMENT.\n\n\nIn early times, long ago, (_\u2019an toiseach an t-saoghail, o chionn nan\ncian_), it is said that the island of Mull was uninhabited except by\na few families who were living, on the south side at Carsaig, in that\npart of the island known as the Ross of Mull. These families lived\nisolated from the rest of the world; none of them had ever seen any\none from anywhere else there, and none of themselves had ever left\nthe place. They had no boats, and they said the other islets and land\nthat they were seeing opposite were other worlds. One day, then, they\nsaw coming on the sea before them (_mu\u2019n comhair_) from the mainland a\nspeck (_d\u00f9radan_), and when it came near they compared it to a horse\nwith a tree standing on its back, but when it came to the shore it was\na boat made of wicker-work covered with hides, with one man in it, who\nhad some drink with him, and a quantity of hazel nuts for food. On\naccount of his boat being covered with hides[23], they named him \u201cThe\ncowhide man, (_am boicionnach_). On landing, he told them how he had\nleft home, out of curiosity to see other places, and that was the first\nplace he was able to reach. He is said to have come from Ardencaple in\nthe district of Lorn on the mainland (_Ard-nan-capull, \u2019an Lathurna_.)\nHe stayed a long time with them, as they treated him kindly, being\nmuch pleased with him. He taught them new ways that were useful to\nthem in their every-day life, and by his skill and knowledge promoted\ntheir welfare in many ways. On seeing that they were not utilizing the\nmilk of their cows and goats by making cheese from it, he asked them\nthe reason of this. They told him that they did not know what cheese\nwas, as they had never heard of it nor seen it, and would like well\nto know how it was made. They had the art of making butter among them\nprevious to his coming. He took in _Lus-buidhe-bealltainn_, (marsh\nmarigold) and putting its stalks in the milk turned it to curds and\nwhey. This is said to be the first cheese that was made in Mull. Some\ntime, nearly a year after this, another boat, or, as they described\nit, a horse with a tree in its back, was seen coming in the same way.\nThis one came ashore at Lochspelvie, further eastward, and had one\nman in it also, whom they named \u201cThe one in the skin coverings\u201d (_an\ncraicionnach_). He was brother to the one who came before, and had\ncome in search of him. The two strangers and the natives were agreeing\nwell together, and the brothers began to build a boat when they found\nwood abundant in Mull. When the boat was finished they named it \u201cthe\nsix-oared boat\u201d (_i\u00f9rach nan sia r\u00e0mh_), and when it was fitted up and\nmade ready for sailing, the two brothers took a crew with them and set\noff in it, to go to one or other of the worlds (_na saoghalan eile_)\nthat they were seeing before them, and reached Jura (_Di\u00f9ra_), but\nthe natives of the island would not let them land, as they had never\nseen a boat before. They stoned them away from the shore. They then\nwent to Colonsay, but the Colonsay men (_na Colosaich_) were equally\nhard-hearted (_doirbh_). They attacked them, and tried to blind them by\nthrowing sand about their eyes. It was then that they went on to the\ngreen (_lit._, blue) island (_an t-eilean gorm_), the name by which\nIslay was then known, where they arrived at a more favourable time, no\none being before them at the shore. They drew the boat up on the land,\nand went on to see if there were people to be found on the island or\nif they would meet with anyone who could direct them to a house. The\nfirst person they met was an old man who was watching cattle (_aig aire\nsreud_). He thought they belonged to the island, as no one was known\nto have ever come to or gone away from it. The first of the brothers\nwho came, asked the old man to give him information about the place.\nThe old man remarked, \u201cHow curious your speech is, if you were born\nin this island.\u201d He said, \u201cNo, I am not a native of this island.\u201d The\nold man said, \u201cAnd if not, what has brought you here?\u201d \u201cThe reason of\nmy coming is, to ask what you can give, and give what I may.\u201d The old\nman then, as it was nightfall, kindled a fire, and they sat with him\ntill daylight, when men and houses were to be seen. The Islay men were\nhospitable to the strangers, who remained a full year and built seven\nboats for them. The elder brother married a woman of the country, and\nafter some time he thought of returning to Mull again. Having prepared\nhis boat he set off, taking his wife and the others with him, and set\nhis course northwards (_aghaidh a bh\u00e0ta, tuath_). They had not gone\nfar when a thick mist came on which darkened their world, and as they\nhad no compass and could see no land, they drifted till the boat went\nin to a shore. This was the first appearance of land they saw since\nleaving the _Eilean Gorm_. A big man came down where they were--they\nnever saw his equal for size--and he caught the fore part of the boat\nand drew it up above high water mark, with them all in it. He invited\nthem to go to his house. They went with him and were made welcome. The\ndaughter of the house, on being asked by the elder of the two brothers\nfor a drink, brought a a two-hooped wooden dish full of milk, set it\non the floor beside them and went away. One of the strangers rose to\nlift the dish and he could not. Then three of them rose, but it defied\nthem to lift it. She came back, and finding the dish as she left it,\nsaid, \u201cIf you have quenched your thirst it is not awanting from the\nmeasure (_air a\u2019 mheasair_)\u201d. The cowhide one replied, \u201cWe have not\nbeen accustomed to stoop like cattle (_cromadh mar bh\u00e0_) when we take a\ndrink, and we could not lift the dish.\u201d At that she caught the wooden\ndish by the ear, in her left hand, and held the drink to them all.\n\u201cWhere have you come from,\u201d she said, \u201cor where are you going?\u201d \u201cWe\ncame from the dark-blue sea-isle,\u201d he said, \u201cand are going to the hilly\nisle (_do \u2019n eilean bheannach_).\u201d \u201cThat is Mull,\u201d she said, \u201cMull of my\nlove, Mull of little men (_Muile mo ghr\u00e0idh, Muile nam fear beaga_).\u201d\nThey passed that night cheerfully together, and went to put off to sea\nnext day; but when they tried to move the boat and get it afloat, they\nmight as well attempt to move the Rhinns of Islay (_an Roinn Ileach_)\nthey could not move it. The young wife who came with them from Islay\nsaid then, \u201cI know where we are; we are in the green isle that is under\nspells (_fo gheasaibh_), but I have a gift that will let us leave it,\u201d\nand she told those with her how her mother had at parting given her a\ncap, saying, \u201cIf you are ever in a strait, put it on, and you must at\nthe same time bend your head to the ground as low as your feet seven\ntimes (_seachd uairean do shr\u00f2n a bhualadh ri \u00f2rdaig do choise_).\u201d\nShe had the cap in her belt (_\u2019n a cneas_), and she told them to sit\nin the boat and take the oars. She then stood in their midst, touched\nthe cap, bent her head, and it went up to her breast (_an cneas_); the\nnext time it went up to her neck (_am muineal_); the third time, to\nher chin, (_an smigead_); then, as she bent her head, at the fourth\ntime, it went up past her mouth to her nose; the next time, it reached\nher eyes, then her forehead, at last the top of her head, and the boat\nwas off. The mist was still there. They asked the eldest brother in\nwhich direction they were to set their course. He told them to follow\nthe flight of birds, as they went shorewards in the evening and would\nguide them to land. There is a saying about the home-coming of birds\nand fish, that \u201cBirds of the universe go westward, and fish of the deep\neastward (_E\u00f2in an domhain, siar, \u2019s iasg an domhain, sear_).\u201d During\nthe night, the younger brother, the one of skins, called out that there\nwas a mound before them (_gu \u2019n robh t\u00f2rr rompa_). His brother who\nwas in the afterpart of the boat said, \u201cIs it a t\u00f2rr without grass,\u201d\nand it has got the name of Torrens to the present day (_\u2019se na t\u00f2rrain\na theirear riu gus an l\u00e0 \u2019n diugh_). They reached Mull shore when it\nwas day, and they ran-in the boat at a narrow strait that was like an\nopening in a dyke (_cachaileith gh\u00e0raidh_), and before they got them\nfrom the tholepins, the oars were broken. The place is still known as\nthe narrow strait of broken oars (_Caolas-a\u2019-bhristidh-r\u00e0mh_). They\ngot on shore, and went home and told where they had been and what had\nhappened to them.\n\nThe person, now above 70 years of age, from whom the above story was\ntaken down almost word for word by the writer, said that he heard the\nstory when he was a young man, and that the following story (that of\nthe two sisters), was a continuation of it; the incidents of the story\noccurred during the absence of the two brothers from the place, and\nwere told to them by the natives, in return for the story of their\nown adventures. The name Torquil, which occurs in this story, and the\nbelief in witchcraft and occult power indicated, suggests that the\ncolony in Mull came originally from Lochlin, or that the story belongs\nto a later period of history than that that of \u201cThe two brothers.\u201d The\nstory is as follows:--\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO SISTERS AND THE CURSE.\n\n\nTwo sisters were living in the same township on the south side of\nMull. One of them who was known as Lovely _Mairearad_[24] had a fairy\nsweetheart, who came where she was, unknown to anyone, until one\nday she confided the secret to her sister, who was called Ailsa[25]\n(_Ealasaid_), and told her how she dearly loved her fairy sweetheart.\n\u201cAnd now, sister,\u201d she said, \u201cyou will not tell any one.\u201d \u201cNo,\u201d her\nsister answered, \u201cI will not tell any one; that story will as soon\npass from my lips as it will from my knee (_o\u2019m ghl\u00f9n_)\u201d; but she did\nnot keep her promise; she told the secret of the fairy sweetheart to\nothers, and when he came again, he found that he was observed, and he\nwent away and never returned, nor was he seen or heard of ever after\nby any one in the place. When the lovely sister came to know this, she\nleft her home and became a wanderer among the hills and hollows, and\nnever afterwards came inside of a house door, to stand or sit down,\nwhile she lived. Those who herded cattle (_ag uallach threud_) tried\nfrequently to get near her and persuade her to return home, but they\nnever succeeded further than to hear her crooning a melancholy song\nin which she told how her sister had been false to her, and that the\nwrong done to her would be avenged on the sister or her descendants, if\na fairy (_neach s\u00ecth_) has power. On hearing that Ailsa was married,\nshe repeated, \u201cDun Ailsa is married and has a son Torquil, and the\nevil will be avenged on her or on him (_ph\u00f2s, ph\u00f2s Ealasaid Odhar,[26]\n&c._).\u201d What she hummed in her mournful song was:--\n\n My mother\u2019s place is deserted, empty and cold,\n My father, who loved me, is asleep in the tomb,\n Friendless and solitary I wander through the fields,\n Since there is none in the world of my kindred\n But a sister without pity.\n She asked, and I told, out of the fulness of my joy;\n There was none nearer of kin to know my secret;\n But I felt, and this brought the tears to my eyes,\n (_lit._, raindrip on my sight),\n That a story comes sooner from the lip than from the knee.\n\nShe was then heard to utter these wishes--\n\n May nothing on which you have set your expectations ever grow,\n Nor dew ever fall on your ground.\n May no smoke rise from your dwelling,\n In the depth of the hardest winter,[27]\n May the worm be in your store,\n And the moth under the lid of your chests.\n If a fay-being has power,\n Revenge will be taken though it may be on your descendants.\n\n Tha suidheag mo mh\u00e0thar gu f\u00e0s, falamh, fuar,\n Tha m\u2019 athair \u2019thug luaidh dhomh \u2019n a shuain fo \u2019n lic.\n Gun daoine gun duine na raoin tha mi \u2019siubhal,\n \u2019S gun \u2019s an t-saoghal do \u2019m chuideachd\n Ach piuthar gun iochd.\n Dh\u2019 iarr ise \u2019s thug mise do mheud mo thoil-inntinn;\n \u2019S mi gun neach \u2019bu disle g\u2019 an innsinn mo r\u00f9n;\n Ach dh\u2019 fhairich mi sid \u2019s thug e snidh\u2019 air mo l\u00e9irsinn\n Gur luaithe \u2019thig sgeul o \u2019n bheul na o \u2019n ghl\u00f9n.\n\nAn sin thuirt i na guidheachan so:--\n\n \u201cNa-na-chinn \u2019s na-na-chuir thu t-\u00f9idh,\n \u2019S na-na-shil an dri\u00f9chd ad shlios,\n \u2019S na-na-rug ad bhothan sm\u00f9id\n Ann an d\u00f9lachd cr\u00f9th an crios;\n Gu \u2019n robh a\u2019 chnuimheag ann ad st\u00f2r\n \u2019S an le\u00f2mann fo bh\u00f2rd do chist\u2019;\n Ma tha cumhachd aig neach s\u00ecth,\n D\u00ecolar ge b\u2019 ann air do shliochd.\u201d\n\nAilsa (_Ealasaid_) married, and had one son. In some way her afflicted\nsister heard of this, and she then added to her song--\n\n Dun Ailsa has married,\n And she has a son Torquil.\n Brown-haired Torquil who can climb the headland\n And bring the seal off the waves,\n The sickle in your hand is sharp,\n You will in two swaths reap a sheaf.\n\n Ph\u00f2s, ph\u00f2s Ealasaid Odhar,\n \u2019S tha mac aice--Torcuil.\n Torcuil donn \u2019dh\u00ecreadh sr\u00f2in,\n \u2019S a bheireadh r\u00f2n bh\u00e0rr nan stuadh,\n Bu sgaiteach do chorran \u2019n ad dh\u00f2rn\n \u2019S dheanadh tu dh\u00e0 dhl\u00f2th an sguab.\n\nWhatever gifts the brown-haired only child of her sister was favoured\nwith, besides others, he was a noted reaper, but this gift proved fatal\nto him (_dh\u2019 fh\u00f2ghainn e dha_). When he grew up to manhood, he could\nreap as much as seven men, and none among them could compete with him.\nHe was then told that a strange woman was seen coming to the harvest\nfields in autumn, after the reapers had left, and that she would reap a\nfield before daylight next morning, or any part of the ripe corn that\nthe reapers could not finish that day, and in whatever field she began,\nshe left the work of seven reapers, finished, after her. She was known\nas the Maiden of the Cairn (_Gruagach[28] a\u2019 ch\u00f9irn_), from being seen\nto come out of a cairn over opposite. One evening then, brown-haired\nTorquil, who desired to see her at work, being later than usual of\nreturning home, on looking back saw her beginning in his own field.\nHe returned, and finding his sickle where he had put it away, he took\nit with him, and after her he went. He resolved to overtake her and\nbegan to reap the next furrow, saying, \u201cYou are a good reaper or I will\novertake you;\u201d but the harder he worked, the more he saw that instead\nof getting nearer to her, she was drawing further away from him, and he\nthen called out to her,\n\n\u201cMaiden of the cairn, wait for me, wait for me.\u201d (_\u2019Ghruagach a\u2019\nch\u00f9irn, fuirich rium, fuirich rium._)\n\nShe said, answering him,\n\n\u201cHandsome brown-haired youth, overtake me, overtake me.\u201d (_\u2019Fhleasgaich\na\u2019 chuil-duinn, beir orm, beir orm._)\n\nHe was confident that he would overtake her, and went on after her till\nthe moon was darkened by a cloud; he then called to her,\n\n\u201cThe moon is clouded (_lit._ smothered by a cloud), delay, delay.\u201d\n(_Tha \u2019ghealach air a m\u00f9chadh fo ne\u00f2il, fuirich rium, fuirich rium._)\n\n\u201cI have no other light but her, overtake me, overtake me,\u201d she said.\n\nHe did not, nor could he, overtake her, and on seeing again how far she\nwas in advance of him, he said, \u201cI am weary with yesterday\u2019s reaping,\nwait for me, wait for me.\u201d She answered, \u201cI ascended the round hill\nof steep summits (_m\u00e0m cas nan leac_), overtake me, overtake me;\u201d but\nhe could not. He then said, \u201cMy sickle would be the better of being\nsharpened (_air a bhleath_), wait for me, wait for me.\u201d She answered,\n\u201cMy sickle will not cut garlic, overtake me, overtake me.\u201d At this she\nreached the head of the furrow, finished reaping, and stood still where\nshe was, waiting for him. When he reached the head of his own furrow,\nhe caught the last handful of corn,[29] to keep it, as was the custom,\nit being the \u201cHarvest Maiden\u201d (_a\u2019 mhaighdean-bhuana_), and stood with\nit in one hand and the sickle in the other. Looking at her steadily in\nthe face, he said,\n\n\u201cYou have put the old woman far from me, and it is not my displeasure\nyou deserve.\u201d (_Chuir thu a\u2019 chailleach fada uam \u2019s cha b\u2019 e mo ghruaim\na thoill thu._)[30]\n\nShe said,\n\n\u201cIt is an evil thing early on Monday to reap the harvest maiden.\u201d\n(_\u2019S dona \u2019n ni_ (var., _m\u00ec-shealbhach_) _moch Di-luain dol a bhuain\nmaighdein._)\n\nOn her saying this, he fell dead on the field and never more drew\nbreath. The Maiden of the Cairn was never afterwards seen, nor heard\nof; and that was how the sister\u2019s wishes ended.\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[23] Boats made of twigs and covered with hides, the hairy side of the\nskin being uppermost, could go long distances over rough seas.\n\n[24] This name is sometimes rendered in English, Margaret. Erraid Isle\n(_Eilean earraid_) is in the Sound of Iona, south of Mull.\n\n[25] The rock of Ailsa in the firth of Clyde is called in Gaelic _Creag\nEalasaid_, and _Ealasaid a\u2019 chuain_ (Ailsa of the sea). A round grey\nrock lying near the shore in Mannal, south side of Tiree, is called\n_Sgeir Ealasaid_, the Ailsa rock. The name _Ealasaid_ is in English\nalso Elizabeth and Elspeth.\n\n[26] _Odhar_, dun or grey, is applied to cattle; as, _b\u00f2 mhaol odhar_,\na dun hornless cow; _gabhar mhaol odhar_, a grey goat: it is sometimes\nused as an expression of contempt, as _creutair odhar_, a dun\ncreature. The diminutive of _odhar_, _odhrag_, is a pet name for a cow.\n\n[27] The words of the first four lines of \u201cthe wishes,\u201d are, as regards\ntheir form in the Gaelic text, almost unintelligible; they merely\nrepresent the sounds uttered by the reciter, without being correct\neither in form or composition. The sounds belonging to the first line\nmight, for instance, have been represented thus:--_\u2019Na ana-ch\u00ecnnt \u2019s \u2019n\na an-shocair dhuit d\u2019 \u00f9idh_: perhaps the utterance was intentionally\nambiguous.--(Ed.)\n\n[28] _Gruagach_, the supernatural being, in this instance was said\nto be a woman; but _gruagach_ usually meant a chief. (See Vol. IV.,\nArgyllshire series, p. 193.)\n\n[29] There was a custom at one time, that the last handful of corn that\nwas cut, and which finished the harvest, was taken home by the reaper,\nwho was usually the youngest person in the family who could reap. The\nbunch was tastefully decorated and kept, at least till the following\nyear, as the harvest maiden.\n\n[30] It was also a custom in other times for old women to go about\nasking charity, and if infirm, they were carried about from house to\nhouse and villages, and whoever was last in a township to finish the\nreaping of his corn had to maintain one that year, and the same thing\nmight happen to him the next year. When the run-rig system was common,\nthe last furrow of corn was sometimes left standing as no one could be\ngot to own it, through fear of having to keep the old woman for a year.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DARK, OR PITCH-PINE, DAUGHTER OF THE NORSE KING,\n\nAND HOW SHE THINNED THE WOODS OF LOCHABER.\n\n\nWhen the Norsemen came, and their visits were frequent and numerous,\nto this country and these islands, to lay claim to and take possession\nof the land, the fame they gathered for themselves through their\nindulgence in every manner of cruel spoliation, and slaughter of the\npeople wherever they landed, was that they were a bold, courageous,\nhardy, rough (\u201cThe Norsemen a rough band\u201d), peremptory and unscrupulous\nrace, and more than that, it was attributed to them that they practised\nwitchcraft, charms, and enchantments, and had much of other unhallowed\nlearning among them. The Norse King\u2019s eldest daughter was particularly\nnoted for her knowledge of the \u201cBlack Art.\u201d There was no accident or\nmischance that befell friends, or destruction that overtook enemies,\nor any luck or good fortune that attended either friend or foe, but\nit was said that she was the cause of it, or had some hand in it. She\nwas famed at home and abroad, far and wide, for her skill among cows\nand cattle, she was said to possess every variety of dairy knowledge\nin her father\u2019s kingdom. There was no charm or evil eye that fell on\nany living creature in the fold but she could dispel and avert, nor\nhurt nor injury they got but she could heal, nor dizziness nor fits\ninto which they fell, from which she could not restore them, until\nit was said of her that the lowing of cattle, the incoherent cry of\ncalves, and the rough cry of yearlings was to her the sweetest and most\nsoothing music, and that she would answer the call of cattle, though\nshe might be lost in the midst of the northern woods, and the cry from\nthe nethermost part of the farthest off quarter of the universe. She\nknew the herb that had the property of taking its qualities from milk,\nas well as she was acquainted with the spells by which its virtues\ncould be restored, and every charm and invocation that was practised or\nthen esteemed. The flowers of the meadows and woods were as familiar to\nher as the ridges of corn or a grain on straw, and there was not a leaf\non tree, bush, or shrub, with whose properties she was not acquainted.\nHer father\u2019s kingdom was clothed with pine wood, and was then as now\nfamous for the fine quality of the wood from which most of the wealth\nof the kingdom was obtained.\n\nOne of those times when the Norsemen came to Scotland to take\npossession of and sub-divide the land thus taken, they observed that\nthe pine wood of Lochaber was growing so fast, and extending so far,\nthat in time it might supersede the Black Forests of Sweden. But on\nthis occasion the northern forces were driven back. On reaching home\nthey reported the matter to the king, and their opinion, that the\nincrease of the wood must be checked, otherwise his northern woods\nwould be of little esteem.\n\nIt occurred to the King to consult his daughter on the matter, since\nshe was learned, and to get knowledge from her of the best method of\nthinning and destroying the Scottish wood. She gave him the desired\ninformation, but said that she must be the bearer of the method and\nmust necessarily go to Scotland herself. She obtained the King\u2019s\npermission and made preparations for the journey.\n\nFrom the gifts she possessed, neither sea nor land, air nor earth\ncould hinder her progress until she accomplished her purpose. When she\nreached Lochaber the method she adopted was to kindle a fire in the\nselvage of her dress, and she then began to go through the woods, and\nas she could travel in the clouds as well as on the ground, when she\nascended and whirled in the air, the sparks of fire that flew from her\ndress were blown hither and thither by the wind and set the woods on\nfire, until the whole country was almost in a blaze, and so darkened\nby the smoke, that one could hardly see before them; and, from being\nblackened more than any tree in the forest, by the smoke and soot of\nthe fiery furnace which surrounded her, she was known and spoken of by\nthe name of \u201cDark, or Pitch Pine.\u201d The people gathered to watch her,\nbut from the rapidity of her ascent and the swiftness with which she\ndescended, they could not grasp her any more than they could prevent\nher, and were at a loss what to do. At last, they sought instruction\nfrom a learned man in the place. He advised them to collect a herd of\ncattle in a fold, wherever she would stand still, and whenever she\nheard the lowing of the cattle she would descend, and when she was\nwithin gun-shot they were to fire at her with a silver bullet, when she\nwould become a faggot of bones. They followed this advice and began to\ngather cattle and follow after her until the pinfold large and small\nwas full set in the \u201cCentre of Kintail.\u201d Whenever she heard the cry of\nthe herd she descended and they aimed at her with the silver bullet,\nas the wise man told them to do, and she fell gently among them. Men\nlifted the remains and carried them to Lochaber, and to make sure that\ndead or alive she would do no more injury to them, they buried her in\nAchnacarry; and the person from whom the story was first heard nine\nyears ago [1880] said that he could put his foot on the place where she\nwas buried.\n\nThe Norse King was amazed at his daughter not returning, and at his\nnot receiving any account from her. He sent abroad to get tidings of\nher. When the news of the disaster that happened to her was brought\nto him, he sent a boat and crew to bring her home, but the Lochaber\nwomen by their incantations destroyed those whom he sent. The boat was\nwrecked, and the men lost, at the entrance to Locheil. The next ships\nthat came were not more successful. The third time the King sent out\nhis most powerful fleet. What they did then was to send and try through\nspells to dry up the wells of the Fairy Hill of Iona. The virtue of\nthese wells was that wind could be obtained from any desired quarter by\nemptying them in the direction of the wind wished for. When the ships\nwere seen approaching, the wells began to be emptied, and before the\nlast handful was flung out, the storm was so violent, and the ships\nso near, that the whole fleet was driven on the beach under the Fairy\nHill, and the power and might of the Norsemen was broken and so much\nweakened that they did not return again to infest the land.\n\n\n\n\nAN DUBH GHIUBHSACH, NIGHEAN RIGH LOCHLAINN,\n\nAGUS MAR A CHRIONAICH I COILLE LOCHABAIR.\n\n\nMar th\u00e0inig na Lochlannaich an toiseach, \u2019s bu bhitheanta sin, air\nfeadh nan d\u00f9thchannan \u2019s nan eileinean so, a thogail ch\u00f2raichean \u2019s a\nghabhail sealbh air fearann, \u2019s e an cli\u00f9 a choisinn iad dhaibh f\u00e9in,\nleis gu \u2019n robh iad ris a h-uile se\u00f2rsa l\u00e9ir-chreach \u2019s milleadh air\nmuinntir nan \u00e0iteachan a bha iad a\u2019 ruigheachd, gu \u2019n robh iad \u2019n an\ndaoine dalma, misneachail, cruaidh-chridheach, borb. \u201cLochlannaich, a\u2019\nbhuidheann bhorb,\u201d neo-easmaileach, neo-thr\u00f2caireach \u2019s a thuilleadh\nair sin, bha e air chur as an leth gu \u2019n robh buidseachd agus\ndruidheachd \u2019s iomadh e\u00f2las toirmisgte eile \u2019n am measg.\n\nBha \u2019n nighean a bu sine aig Righ Lochlainn s\u00f2nraichte ainmeil air\nson na bh\u2019 aice de \u2019n \u201cSgoil Dubh.\u201d Cha robh sgiorradh no tubaist a\nthachaireadh do ch\u00e0irdean, no sgrios a thigeadh air naimhdean, no math\nno rath a dh\u2019 \u00e9ireadh do h-aon di\u00f9, nach robh e air a r\u00e0dhainn gur i\nb\u2019 aobhar-cinn dha, no gu \u2019n robh l\u00e0mh thaobh-eiginn aice ann. Bha i\naig an tigh \u2019s uaithe fada \u2019s farsuinn comharraichte air son sgil am\nmeasg cruidh \u2019s feudail; \u2019s ann aice bha gach se\u00f2rsa e\u00f2las cruidh \u2019an\nr\u00ecoghachd a h-athar. Cha robh sian no s\u00f9il a laidheadh air creutair\nbeo \u2019s a\u2019 bhuaile nach togadh i, no tuaineal no ceangal \u2019s an rachadh\niad nach fhuasgladh i, gus an abairteadh gur e geumnaich cruidh,\nblaomannaich laogh agus r\u00e0caireachd ghamhna an t-aon che\u00f2l cadail a bu\nbhinn leatha, \u2019s gu \u2019m freagradh i \u2019n uair a chluinneadh i \u2019n spr\u00e9idh\nged bhiodh i \u2019n a suain an teis-meadhon coille dhubh a h-athar \u2019s an\ngeum o cheann \u00ecochdar iomall an domhain.\n\nB\u2019 aithne dh\u2019 i an lus a bheireadh an toradh as a\u2019 bhainne co math \u2019s\na b\u2019 aithne dh\u2019 i na h-e\u00f2lais a thilleadh air ais e, agus gach se\u00f2rsa\nsian agus oradh a bha air a chleachdainn no air a chunntas feumail \u2019s\nan \u00e0m. Bha gach luibh \u2019s a\u2019 mhachair no \u2019s a\u2019 choille co-ionnan dh\u2019\ni ri arbhar nan imirean no spilgean c\u00f2nlaich, \u2019s cha robh duilleag\nair craoibh, no preas, no dris, nach b\u2019 aithne dh\u2019 i. \u2019S an \u00e0m so bha\nd\u00f9thaich a h-athar c\u00f2mhdaichte le coille ghiubhais, agus iomraideach\n(mar tha fhathast) air son co math \u2019s a bha a fiodh, \u2019s bha neart de\nbheartais na r\u00ecoghachd \u2019tighinn a stigh air a tailibh.\n\nUair de na h-uairean sin th\u00e0inig na Lochlannaich do Albainn a thoirt\na mach fearainn \u2019s a dheanamh roinn na c\u00f2rach air na gheibheadh iad,\n\u2019s thug iad fainear gu \u2019n robh coille ghiubhais Lochabair a\u2019 f\u00e0s \u2019s\na\u2019 gabhail roimpe co m\u00f2r \u2019s gu \u2019m faodtadh e \u2019bhi gu \u2019n cuireadh i\nstad air coille dhubh na Suain. Chaidh feachd Lochlannach an uair so\nthilleadh air ais an taobh a th\u00e0inig iad, \u2019s \u2019n uair a r\u00e0inig iad\ndhachaidh dh\u2019 innis iad do \u2019n righ mar bha iad \u2019am beachd a thachradh\n\u2019s gu \u2019m feumadh stad a chur air cinneas na coille Albanaich neo nach\nbitheadh m\u00f2ran meas air a\u2019 chonnadh aige-san. \u2019S e smuaintich an\nrigh bho \u2019n a bha h-uile ionnsachadh aig a nighean gu \u2019n cuireadh e\n\u2019chomhairle rithe, \u2019s gu \u2019m faigheadh e fiosrachadh uaipe \u2019d e an d\u00f2igh\na b\u2019 fhearr \u2019s a bu luaithe air a\u2019 choille Albanaich a dheanamh na bu\nlugha \u2019s a cr\u00econadh. Dh\u2019 innis i dha, ach gu \u2019m bitheadh aice fh\u00e9in ri\ndol ann. Fhuair i cead o \u2019n R\u00ecgh, \u2019s rinn i deas air son falbh; \u2019s leis\nna cumhachdan a bh\u2019 aice cha chuireadh muir no t\u00ecr, talamh no adhar,\nstad air a ceum gus an ruigeadh i ceann thall a\u2019 ghnothaich.\n\n\u2019N uair a r\u00e0inig i Lochabair \u2019s e \u2019n d\u00f2igh a ghabh i, dh\u2019 fhadaidh i\nteine \u2019an iomall a g\u00f9in \u2019s ghabh i gu siubhal roimh \u2019n choille, \u2019s\nleis gu robh comas aice falbh anns na ne\u00f2il co math \u2019s air an talamh,\ndh\u00ecreadh i suas agus \u2019n uair bha i \u2019d\u00ecreadh \u2019s a\u2019 cur cuairteig anns an\nadhar, bha na sradagan teine a bha \u2019falbh as a g\u00f9n a\u2019 dol gach taobh\nleis a\u2019 ghaoith \u2019s a\u2019 lasadh na coille gus an robh an d\u00f9thaich uile gu\nbhi \u2019n a caoirean teintich \u2019s co d\u00f9inte le deathaich \u2019s gur gann a bu\nl\u00e9ir do dhuine lias, \u2019s a chionn gu \u2019n robh i fh\u00e9in air f\u00e0s anns an\ndeathaich \u2019s anns an t-s\u00f9ith na bu duibhe na craobh \u2019s a\u2019 choille, \u2019s e\n\u201cAn Dubh Ghi\u00f9bhsach\u201d a theireadh iad rithe.\n\nBha muinntir na d\u00f9thcha cruinn c\u00f2mhla \u2019g a feitheamh \u2019s cha chumadh iad\nsealladh oirre leis co \u00e0rd \u2019s a rachadh i anns na speuran \u2019s co luath\n\u2019s a th\u00e8arnadh i gu talamh. Cha b\u2019 urrainn iad greim fhaighinn oirre\nna bu mhotha na b\u2019 urrainn iad stad a chur oirre, \u2019s cha robh fios aca\n\u2019d e a dh\u00e8anadh iad. Mu dheireadh chaidh iad air son f\u00f2ghluim gu duine\nionnsaichte a bha \u2019s an d\u00f9thaich. Thuirt esan riu, buaile cruidh a\nchruinneachadh far an stadadh i, \u2019s \u2019n uair a chluinneadh i \u2019n fheudail\n\u2019s a\u2019 bhuar gu \u2019n t\u00e8arnadh i; \u2019s an uair a bhiodh i mar urchair gunna\nuapa iad a losgadh oirre le peileir airgid, \u2019s gu \u2019n rachadh i \u2019n a\ncual chn\u00e0mh. Ghabh iad a chomhairle \u2019s th\u00f2isich iad air togail chreach\n\u2019s air ise leantuinn gus an robh a\u2019 bhuaile l\u00e0n-suidhichte le crodh\nann an Cr\u00f2-Chint\u00e0ile. Co luath \u2019s a chuala ise a\u2019 gheumnaich theirinn\ni \u2019s loisg iad oirre leis a\u2019 pheileir airgid mar dh\u2019 iarr an duine\nglic orra, \u2019s thuit i \u2019n a ce\u00f2saich \u2019n am measg. Thog iad eadar dhaoine\nam pronnan a bh\u2019 aca dhi \u2019s thug iad leo do Lochabair i, \u2019s chum gu\n\u2019m bitheadh iad cinnteach nach d\u00e8anadh i cron be\u00f2 no marbh dhoibh\ntuilleadh, th\u00ecodhlaic iad i ann an Achanacairidh; \u2019s am fear bho \u2019n\ndeachaidh an naigheachd a chluinntinn an toiseach--anns a\u2019 bhliadhna\n1880--bha e \u2019g r\u00e0dhainn gu \u2019m b\u2019 urrainn dha a chas a chur air an uaigh\nanns an do chuireadh i.\n\nBha ioghnadh air Righ Lochlainn nach robh a nighean a\u2019 tilleadh no\nsgeul uaipe. Chuir e forfhais a mach, \u2019s tr\u00e0 chualaic e mar thachair\ndhi, chuir e b\u00e0ta \u2019s sgioba air son a toirt dachaidh, ach dh\u2019 fhoghain\nmnathan Lochabair le \u2019n ubagan dh\u2019 i. Chaidh a briste \u2019s na daoine\nchall, aig bun Lochiall. Cha d\u2019 r\u00e0inig an ath chabhlach na bu mh\u00f2. \u2019S\nan treasa uair tr\u00e0 chuir an Righ mach feachd na rioghachd \u2019s e rinn\niadsan, chuir iad e\u00f2las a thaomadh tobraichean Dhun-I, \u2019s bha e \u2019n cois\nan e\u00f2lais, rathad \u2019s am bith a rachadh na tobraichean a thaomadh gu \u2019m\nfaighteadh a\u2019 ghaoth a dh\u2019 iarrtadh. \u2019N uair fhuaradh sealladh air a\u2019\nchabhlach, th\u00f2isichear air taomadh an tobair, \u2019s mu \u2019n robh a\u2019 bhoiseag\nmu dheireadh as, bha a\u2019 ghaoth co l\u00e0idir \u2019s a\u2019 chabhlach co dl\u00f9th \u2019s gu\n\u2019n do bhrisdeadh iad air cladach an D\u00f9in, \u2019s chaidh cumhachd \u2019s feachd\nnan Lochlannach lughdachadh co m\u00f2r \u2019s nach do thill iad riamh tuilleadh\na dheanamh d\u00f2lais no a thoirt sgrios air an t\u00ecr.\n\n\n\n\nO\u2019NEIL,\n\nAND HOW THE HAIR OF HIS HEAD WAS MADE TO GROW.\n\n\nThere was a smith, before now, in Ireland, who was one day working in\nthe smithy, when a youth came in, having two old women with him.\n\nHe said to the smith,\n\n\u201cI would be obliged to you,\u201d he said, \u201cif you would let me have a while\nat the bellows and anvil.\u201d\n\nThe smith said he would. He then caught the two old women, threw a hoop\nabout their middle, and placed them in the smithy fire, and blew the\nbellows at them, and then took them out and made one woman, the fairest\nthat eye ever saw, from the two old women.\n\nWhen the smith laid down at night, he said to his wife,\n\n\u201cA man came the way of the smithy to-day, having with him two old\nwomen; he asked from me a while of the bellows and anvil, and he made\nthe fairest woman that man\u2019s eye ever saw, out of the two old women. My\nown mother and your mother are here with us, and I think I will try to\nmake one right woman of the two since I saw the other man doing it.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo,\u201d she said, \u201cI am quite willing.\u201d\n\nNext day he took out the two old women, put the hoop about their\nmiddle, and threw them in the smithy fire. It was not long before it\nbecame likely that he would not have even the bones of them left. The\nsmith was in extremity, not knowing what to do, but a voice came behind\nhim,\n\n\u201cYou are perplexed, smith, but perhaps I will put you right.\u201d With that\nhe caught the bellows and blew harder at them; he then took them out\nand put them on the anvil, and made as fair a woman out of the two old\nwives. Then he said to the smith,\n\n\u201cYou had need of me to-day, but,\u201d said he, \u201cyou better engage me; I\nwill not ask from you but the half of what I earn, and that this will\nbe in the agreement, that I shall have the third of my own will.\u201d The\nsmith engaged him.\n\nAt this time O\u2019Neil sent abroad word that he wanted one who would make\nthe hair of his head to grow, for there was none on the head of O\u2019Neil\nor O\u2019Donnell, his brother, and that whoever could do it, would get the\nfourth part of his means. The servant lad said to the smith,\n\n\u201cWe had better go and make a bargain with O\u2019Neil that we will put hair\non his head,\u201d and they did this. \u201cSay you to him,\u201d said the servant\nlad, \u201cthat you have a servant who will put hair on his head for the\nfourth part of what he possesses.\u201d\n\nO\u2019Neil was agreeable to this, and the servant lad desired to get a room\nfor themselves, and asked a cauldron to be put on a good fire. It was\ndone as he wished. O\u2019Neil was taken in and stretched on a table. The\nservant lad then took hold of the axe, threw off O\u2019Neil\u2019s head, and put\nit face foremost in the cauldron. After some time he took hold of a\nlarge prong which he had, and he lifted up the head with it, and hair\nwas beginning to come upon it. In a while he lifted it up again with\nthe same prong, this time a ply of the fine yellow hair would go round\nhis hand. Then he gave the head such a lift, and stuck it on the body.\nO\u2019Neil then called out to him to make haste and let him rise to his\nfeet, when he saw the fine yellow hair coming in into his eyes. He did\nas he had promised; he gave the smith and the servant lad the fourth\npart of his possessions. When they were going home with the cattle the\nservant lad said to the smith,\n\n\u201cWe are now going to separate, we will make two halves or divisions of\nthe cattle.\u201d\n\nThe smith was not willing to agree to this, but since it was in his\nbargain he got the one half. They then parted, and the animal the smith\nwould not lose now, he would lose again, he did not know where he was\ngoing before he reached home, and he had only one old cow that he did\nnot lose of the cattle.\n\nWhen O\u2019Donnell saw his brother\u2019s hair, he sent out word that he would\ngive the third part of his property to any one who would do the same\nto himself. The smith thought he would try to do it this time alone.\nHe went where O\u2019Donnell was, and said to him that he would put hair on\nhis head for him also, as he had done to his brother O\u2019Neil. Then he\nasked that the cauldron be put on, and a good fire below it, and he\ntook O\u2019Donnell into a room, tied him on a table, then took up an axe,\ncut off his head, and threw it, face downwards, into the cauldron. In\na while he took the prong to see if the hair was growing, but instead\nof the hair growing, the jaws were nearly falling out. The smith was\nalmost out of his senses, not knowing what to do, when he heard a voice\nbehind him saying to him, \u201cYou are in a strait.\u201d This was the lad with\nthe Black Art, he formerly had, returned. He blew at the cauldron\nstronger, brought the prong to see how the head was doing, or if the\nhair was growing on it. The next time he tried it, it would twine round\nhis hand. Since it was so long of growing on it, he said, \u201cWe will put\nan additional fold round my hand.\u201d When he tried it again it would\nreach two twists. He took it out of the cauldron and stuck it on the\nbody. It cried to be quickly let go, when he saw his yellow hair down\non his shoulders. The hair pleased him greatly; it was more abundant\nthan that of O\u2019Neil, his brother. They got fully what was promised\nthem, and were going on their way home. The lad who had the Black Art\nsaid, \u201cHad we not better divide the cattle?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will not, we will not,\u201d said the smith, \u201clift them with you, since\nI got clear.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the other, \u201cif you had said that before, you would not\nhave gone home empty-handed, or with only one cow,\u201d and with that he\nsaid, \u201cYou will take every one of them: I will take none of them.\u201d\n\nThe smith went home with that herd, and he did not require to strike\na blow in his smithy, neither did he meet with the one with the Black\nArt, ever after.\n\n\n\n\nO\u2019 NEIL, \u2019S MAR A CHAIDH AM FALT AIR A CHEANN.\n\n\nGobhainn bh\u2019 ann roimhe so ann an Eirinn, \u2019s bha e latha de na\nl\u00e0ithean ag obair anns a\u2019 che\u00e0rdaich agus th\u00e0inig \u00f2ganach stigh \u2019s d\u00e0\nsheana-bhoirionnach aige. Thuirt e ris a\u2019 ghobhainn, \u201cBhithinn ann\nad ehomain,\u201d ars\u2019 esan, \u201cna \u2019n toireadh tu dhomh tacan de \u2019n bholg\n\u2019s de \u2019n innean.\u201d Thuirt an gobhainn ris gu \u2019n tugadh. Rug e an sin\nair an d\u00e0 chaillich, chaith e cearcall mu \u2019m meadhon, \u2019s ch\u00e0irich e\n\u2019s an teallach iad, \u2019s sh\u00e9id e am bolg riu; thug e \u2019n sin mach iad \u2019s\nrinn e aon bhoirionnach a bu bhreadha \u2019s a chunnaic s\u00f9il duine de \u2019n\nd\u00e0 chaillich. \u2019N uair a luidh an gobhainn \u2019s an oidhche, thuirt e ris\na mhnaoi, \u201cTh\u00e0inig fear rathad na ce\u00e0rdaich an diugh \u2019s d\u00e0 chaillich\naige, \u2019s dh\u2019 iarr e orm treis de \u2019n bholg \u2019s de \u2019n innean, \u2019s rinn e\n\u2019m boirionnach a bu bhriadha a chunnaic s\u00f9il duine riamh air an d\u00e0\nchaillich. Tha mo mh\u00e0thair fh\u00e9in \u2019s do mh\u00e0thair fh\u00e9in againn ann an so,\n\u2019s tha mi \u2019smaointeachadh gu \u2019m feuch mi ri aon bhoirionnach ceart a\ndheanamh orra bho \u2019n a chunnaic mi am fear eile \u2019g a dheanamh.\u201d\n\n\u201cDean,\u201d ars\u2019 ise, \u201ctha mi l\u00e0n-toileach.\u201d\n\nAm m\u00e0ireach thug e mach an d\u00e0 chaillich \u2019s chuir e \u2019n cearcall mu \u2019m\nmeadhon, \u2019s thilg e \u2019s an teallach iad. Cha b\u2019 fhada ach gus an robh\ncoltach nach bitheadh na cn\u00e0imhean fh\u00e9in aige dhi\u00f9bh. Bha an gobhainn\n\u2019n a ch\u00e0s gun fhios aige \u2019d\u00e9 dheanadh e, ach th\u00e0inig guth air a\nch\u00f9lthaobh, \u201cTha thu ann ad \u00e9iginn, a ghobhainn, ach ma dh\u2019 fhaoidte\ngu \u2019n cuir mise ceart thu.\u201d Rug e air a\u2019 bholg \u2019s th\u00e9id e na \u2019s teinne\nriu; thug e mach iad a sin \u2019s chuir e air an innean iad, \u2019s rinn e\nboirionnach a bu bhriadha de \u2019n d\u00e0 chaillich. Thuirt e sin ris a\u2019\nghobhainn, \u201cBha feum agad ormsa an diugh, ach,\u201d ars\u2019 esan, \u201c\u2019s ann a \u2019s\nfearr dhuit mise fhasdadh, \u2019s cha \u2019n iarr mi ort ach darna leth de na\nbheir mi a mach; ach gu \u2019m bi so anns a\u2019 ch\u00f9mhnant, gu \u2019m bi an treas\ntrian de m\u2019 thoil fh\u00e9in agam.\u201d Dh\u2019 fhasdaidh an gobhainn e.\n\nAig an \u00e0m sin chuir O\u2019 Neil mach fios na \u2019m faigheadh e fear a\nchuireadh falt air, chionn cha robh falt idir air O\u2019 Neil na air O\u2019\nDomhnull a bhr\u00e0thair, gu \u2019n toireadh e dhoibh a\u2019 cheathramh chuid d\u2019 a\nmhaoin; \u2019s thuirt an gille ris a\u2019 ghobhainn, \u201c\u2019S fhearr dhuinne falbh\n\u2019s bargan a dheanamh ri O\u2019 Neil gu \u2019n cuir sinn falt air;\u201d \u2019s rinn iad\nmar sin. \u201cAbair thusa ris,\u201d thuirt an gille ris a\u2019 ghobhainn, \u201cgu bheil\ngille agadsa a chuireas falt air, air son a\u2019 cheathramh chuid d\u2019 a\nmhaoin.\u201d\n\nBha O\u2019 Neil de\u00f2nach air a shon so, agus dh\u2019 iarr an gille se\u00f2mar\nfhaotainn dhoibh fh\u00e9in, \u2019s dh\u2019 iarr e coire a chur air, \u2019s teine math\nris. Rinneadh mar a dh\u2019 iarr e, \u2019s chaidh O\u2019 Neil a thoirt stigh, \u2019s\nchuir e \u2019n a sh\u00ecneadh air b\u00f2rd e, \u2019s rug e air an tuaidh \u2019s thilg e\ndheth an ceann, \u2019s chuir e \u2019n comhair na goille anns a\u2019 choire e. \u2019An\nceann tacain rug e air gramaiche m\u00f2r a bh\u2019 aige \u2019s thog e suas an ceann\nleis, \u2019s bha toiseach fuilt a\u2019 tighinn air. Ann an ceann treis thog e\nsuas a rithist e leis a\u2019 ghramaiche cheudna, agus an uair so ruigeadh\ncar m\u2019 a dh\u00f2rn de \u2019n fhalt bhriadha bhuidhe. Thug e sin an togail ud\nair, \u2019s bhuail e air a\u2019 choluinn e. Ghlaodh sin O\u2019 Neil greasad air\n\u2019s a leigeil air a chois, \u2019n uair a chunnaic e \u2019m falt briadha buidhe\na\u2019 tighinn \u2019n a sh\u00f9ilean. Rinn e riu mar a gheall e; fhuair iad a\ncheathramh chuid d\u2019 a mhaoin.\n\n\u2019N uair bha iad so \u2019dol dachaidh\u2019s an spr\u00e9idh aca, thuirt an gille ris\na\u2019 ghobhainn, \u201cTha mi nis \u2019dol a dhealachadh ribh, \u2019s n\u00ec sinn d\u00e0 leth\nair an spr\u00e9idh.\u201d Cha robh an gobhainn toileach air so a thoirt dha, ach\nbho \u2019n a bha e \u2019n a ch\u00f9mhnant fhuair e \u2019n darna leth. Dhealaich iad\nso, agus am beothach nach cailleadh an gobhainn an dr\u00e0sd\u2019 shiubhladh e\nrithist, \u2019s cha robh fhios aige c\u2019 \u00e0ite an robh e a\u2019 dol, \u2019s mu \u2019n d\u2019\nr\u00e0inig e \u2019n tigh cha robh aige ach seann mhart nach do chaill e de \u2019n\nspr\u00e9idh.\n\n\u2019N uair a chunnaic O\u2019 Domhnull am falt a bh\u2019 air a bhr\u00e0thair, chuir e\nmach fios gu \u2019n toireadh e \u2019n treas cuid d\u2019 a mhaoin seachad do aon \u2019s\nam bith a chuireadh air fh\u00e9in e. Smaointich an gobhainn gu \u2019m feuchadh\ne-fh\u00e9in g\u2019 a dheanamh an dr\u00e0sda gun duine ach e-fh\u00e9in. Chaidh e far\nan robh O\u2019Domhnull \u2019s thuirt e ris gu \u2019n cuireadh e air-san e mar an\nceudna, \u2019s gur e a chuir air a bhr\u00e0thair, O\u2019Neil, e, \u2019s dh\u2019 iarr e \u2019n\ncoire \u2019chur air \u2019s teine math ris. Thug e O\u2019 Domhnull stigh do she\u00f2mar\n\u2019s cheangail e air b\u00f2rd e, \u2019s rug e air an tuaidh, \u2019s thug e dheth an\nceann \u2019s thilg e \u2019an comhair na goille e anns a\u2019 choire. \u2019An ceann\ntreis rug e air a\u2019 ghramaiche dh\u2019 fheuchainn an robh falt a\u2019 cinntinn,\nach \u2019an \u00e0ite falt a bhi \u2019cinntinn \u2019s ann a bha na giallan \u2019tuiteam as.\nBha an gobhainn \u2019an impis dol as a chiall, gun fhios aige \u2019d\u00e9 dheanadh\ne, \u2019n uair a chualaig e guth air a ch\u00f9lthaobh ag r\u00e0dhainn ris, \u201cTha thu\nann ad \u00e9iginn.\u201d Bha so gille na sgoil-duibhe, a bh\u2019 aige fh\u00e9in roimhe,\nair tilleadh. Sh\u00e9id e ris a\u2019 choire na bu teodha, \u2019s thug e sin nuas\nleis an gramaiche a shealltainn ciamar a bha an ceann a\u2019 deanamh, \u2019s\nbha am falt a\u2019 cinntinn. An ath-uair a dh\u2019 fheuch e e, ruigeadh car\nmu \u2019dh\u00f2rn dheth. \u201cBho \u2019n a bha e co fada gun chinntinn,\u201d ars\u2019 esan,\n\u201ccuiridh sinn car a bharrachd mu \u2019m dh\u00f2rn;\u201d \u2019s \u2019n uair a dh\u2019 fheuch\ne rithist e, ruigeadh e \u2019n d\u00e0 char. Thog e as a\u2019 choire e, \u2019s bhuail\ne air a\u2019 choluinn e; \u2019s ghlaodh e \u2019ghrad-fhuasgladh, \u2019s e \u2019faicinn\n\u2019fhalt buidhe s\u00ecos air a ghualainn. Ch\u00f2rd am falt ris fior mhaith, bha\nbarrachd fuilt air \u2019s a bh\u2019 air O\u2019 Neil a bhr\u00e0thair. Fhuair iadsan\n\u2019cheart ni a chaidh ghealltainn doibh, \u2019s bha iad \u2019dol dachaidh air an\nrathad. Thuirt gille na sgoil-duibhe, \u201cNach fhe\u00e0rr dhuinn ar treud a\nroinn?\u201d \u201cCha roinn, cha roinn,\u201d ars\u2019 an gobhainn, \u201ctog leat iad, bho\n\u2019n a fhuair mise saor.\u201d \u201cMa t\u00e0,\u201d ars\u2019 esan, \u201cna \u2019n dubhairt thu sin\nroimhe cha deachaidh thu dhachaidh falamh no air aon mhart; agus leis a\nsin,\u201d ars\u2019 esan, \u201cbheir thu leat h-uile h-aon di\u00f9bh, cha ghabh mise gin\ndi\u00f9bh.\u201d\n\nChaidh an gobhainn dachaidh leis an spr\u00e9idh sin, \u2019s cha do ruig e leas\nbuille a bhualadh \u2019an ce\u00e0rdaich tuille, ni m\u00f2 a thachair e-fh\u00e9in air\nfear na sgoil-duibhe tuille.\n\n\n\n\nBEAST FABLES.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WOLF AND THE FOX.\n\n\nThis story, like many others in which the lower animals figure as\ncharacters, is very popular in the Highlands, in fact, Mr. Campbell\nof Islay, by whom it is mentioned, could not help falling in with it.\nBut the version published by him is destitute of several interesting\nincidents which form a part of the story. The narration depends always\nupon the knowledge and skill of the person who tells it, and this\nedition is given because there is to be found in it incidents of much\ninterest and amusement, not to be found in any other version, such as\nthe Fox\u2019s oath and standing in front of the fire. The Gaelic is not\ngiven except in the essential expressions, and it is not deemed of much\nconsequence to give more, as their fluency and number depend upon the\nreciter\u2019s knowledge and tact. In these fables the lower animals appear\nwith the same characteristics as are always assigned to them, and in\nthis tale the fox appears as not only wily and cunning, but also as the\nmost unprincipled scoundrel, indifferent to the interests of others,\nand also to what is usually of weight with men, the restraint of an\nunseen power.\n\nThe Fox and Wolf were keeping house together near the shore, and as\nmight naturally be expected, were very poor and at times hard up for\nfood. At first the fox kept himself in good condition, and was not so\nvoracious as the wolf. After a heavy storm in winter time the two went\nalong the shore to see what the sea had cast up. This is still done by\npoor people in the islands, and in those places where wood does not\ngrow. They are often fortunate enough to find logs and planks of wood.\nOn the occasion of the wolf and the fox\u2019s journey they were fortunate\nenough to find a keg of butter. Probably it had come from Ireland\nand been swept or thrown overboard in the storm. It was particularly\nwelcome to the poor finders, and the rascally fox at once coveted it\nfor himself. He said to the wolf that, as this was the winter time,\nthey had not so much need of it, but when the hungry summer (_samhradh\ngortach_) would come, it would be doubly welcome; they had better bury\nit, and no one would know of its existence but themselves. They dug a\ndeep hole, buried the keg of butter, and went home with their other\nprovisions. Some days after that the fox came in, and wearily throwing\nhimself on a settle, or seat, which formed part of the furniture, he\nheaved a deep sigh and said, \u201cAlas! Alas! Woe is me (_Och! Och! fh\u00e9in\nthall_).\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! Alas!\u201d said the sympathising wolf, \u201cwhat is it that troubles\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cDear me,\u201d said the fox, \u201cthey are wanting me out to a christening\n(_Och! Och! tha iad \u2019gam iarraidh mach gu goisteachd_),\u201d still\npretending a weary indifference, and the Gaelic expression is here\nnoticeable, as, being asked out to a baptism means literally being\nasked to be god-father, or gossip at the baptism, a practise observed\nin the Highlands, even where the Roman Catholic and Episcopal systems\nhave disappeared.\n\n\u201cAlas! Alas!\u201d said the wolf, \u201care you going?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! Alas!\u201d said the fox, \u201cI am.\u201d When he came home, the wolf asked\nwhat name they had given the child. \u201cA queer enough name,\u201d said the\nfox, \u201c_Blaiseam_,\u201d (let me taste).\n\nSome days after that again the same man\u0153uvre was gone through, and when\nthe fox returned and the wolf asked him the child\u2019s name, he said it\nwas as queer a name as the former one,--\u201c_Bi \u2019na mheadhon_,\u201d (be in its\nmiddle). A third time the man\u0153uvre was gone through and the child\u2019s\nname was said to be the queerest of all, \u201c_Sgr\u00ecob an cl\u00e0r_,\u201d (scrape\nthe stave).\n\nAt last the \u201chungry summer\u201d came; and it was such as is well known\neven in eastern countries when the stores of the preceding harvest are\nexhausted, and the stores of the year\u2019s harvest are not yet ready. The\nfox and the wolf went for the keg of butter, but it had disappeared.\nThe fox being prepared for this emergency began at once to accuse the\nwolf of having taken it, \u201cNo one knew it was there but our two selves,\nand I see the colour of it on your fur.\u201d\n\nThe two went away home, the wolf very much cast down, and the fox\npersisting in his accusation that the wolf had stolen it. The wolf\nsolemnly protested that he had never touched it.\n\n\u201cWill you swear then?\u201d the fox said.\n\nAccording to a Highland proverb, protestations may be loud till they\nare solemn oaths (_\u2019S m\u00f2r facal gu l\u00f9ghadh_). The wolf then held up its\npaw, and with great solemnity emitted this oath, \u201cIf it be that I stole\nthe butter, and it be, and it be, may disease lie heavy on my grey\nbelly in the dust, in the dust,\u201d (_Ma \u2019s mise ghoid an t-\u00ecm, \u2019s gur mi,\n\u2019s gur mi, Galar trom-ghlas air mo bhronnghlas anns an \u00f9ir, anns an\n\u00f9ir_).\n\n\u201cSwear now yourself,\u201d but the fox was so impressed by the dignity and\nreverence of the oath, that he tried every means in his power to evade\nso solemn an ordeal; but the wolf would take no refusal, and at last\nthe fox emitted this oath, \u201cIf it be I that stole the butter, and it\nbe, and it be, Whirm, Wheeckam, Whirram, Whycam Whirrim Whew, Whirrim\nWhew,\u201d (_Ma\u2019s mise \u2019ghoid an t-\u00ecm \u2019s gur a mi, \u2019s gur a mi, ciream,\nc\u00ecceam ciream cuaigeam, ciream ciu, ciream ciu_). The student of\nlanguage will observe how the Gaelic C corresponds to the English Wh.\nThis is particularly noticeable here as the difference renders the oath\nas ludicrous in the translation as in the original, if not more so.\nThe wolf said nothing, but the fox, with that persistence which often\naccompanies evil-doing, suggested that they should both stand in front\nof the fire and whoever began to sweat first would be the guilty party,\nas the butter would be oozing out through him. The wolf thinking no\nevil, consented, and the fox thought he would get him to stand nearer\nto the fire than himself. It so turned out however, that the fox, who\nhad kept himself in good condition by repeated visits to the keg of\nbutter, (and they must have been more frequent than the baptisms to\nwhich he said he had been called), was getting uncomfortably warm, and\nsaid, \u201cWe are long enough at this work, we had better go out and take a\nwalk.\u201d When out thus cooling themselves, they passed a smithy door, at\nwhich an old white horse was standing with the point of its hind shoe\nresting on the ground. The wolf having gone over to it, but at a safe\ndistance, and looking intently at the door, said to the fox, \u201cI wish,\nas your eyesight is better than mine and you can read better than I\ncan, that you would come over and read the name written on the horse\nshoe.\u201d\n\nThe fox came over but could see no writing on the shoe, but flattered\nby the wolf\u2019s words, and not liking to confess that his eyesight was\nfailing, it went closer and the horse lifting its foot knocked its\nbrains out.\n\n\u201cI see,\u201d said the wolf, \u201cthe greatest scholars are not always\nthe wisest clerks,\u201d (_Cha \u2019n i an ro-sgoilearachd a \u2019s\nfhearr.--Lit._--Excessive scholarship is not always the best).\n\n[Illustration: THE FOX AND THE WOLF.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOX AND THE BIRD.\n\n\nIn the foregoing the fox appears true to his character as an\nunscrupulous, grasping, wily wretch, and in the following he appears as\nover reached by a bird. Considering the character the fox bears, one is\nglad when he is paid back in his own coin. The bird in the tale is by\nsome rendered Kestrel Hawk, and by others Hen Harrier. The story was\nheard in Tiree, in which are no trees on which the bird could sit, and\nno hawks or foxes to make the story applicable. The lesson which the\nfable implies is one that is useful everywhere.\n\nA _Deargan-allt, Eun Fionn_, was dosing by a river side, when a Fox\ncame and caught it, and was going to devour it. \u201cOh don\u2019t, don\u2019t,\u201d said\nthe bird, \u201cand I will lay an egg as big as your head.\u201d\n\nHe protested this so loudly, and so solemnly, that the fox loosened\nhis hold till the bird at last flew up into a tree. Here sitting on a\nbranch, and safe from further injury, it said to the fox, \u201cI will not\nlay an egg as big as your head, for I cannot do it, but I will give\nyou three pieces of advice, and if you will observe them, they will do\nyou more good in the future. One, first, \u201cNever believe an unlikely\nstory from unreliable authority (_Na creid naigheachd mi-choltach fo\nurrainn mi-dhealbhach_). Secondly, \u201cNever make a great fuss about a\nsmall matter (_Na dean dearmail mh\u00f2r mu rud beag_), and thirdly\u201d--here\nthe bird seemed to take time, and the fox having his curiosity now\nexcited listened, though it was with firmly clasped teeth and pangs of\nhunger--\u201cWhatever you get a hold of, take a firm hold of it\u201d (_Rud air\nan dean thu greim, dean greim gu ro-mhath air_), saying this, the bird\nflew away, and the fox, thus neatly sold, was left lamenting.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WREN.\n\n\nIn the Fables relating to animals the fox readily takes a lead, and is\ncharacterised as an unscrupulous and unprincipled rascal. Next to him\nthe wren, which is the smallest (or at least has the name of being so)\nof British birds figures, and has got the name not only of being small,\nbut also of being forward and pert. The first or most prominent of\nthese fables is that in which the wren appears as contesting with the\neagle the supremacy among birds, and this story may be said to be as\nwidely extended over the Highlands as the birds themselves. There was\nto be a contest which bird should fly highest, and the wren jumped upon\nthe eagle\u2019s back. When the eagle had soared as high as it could, it\nsaid, \u201cWhere are you now, brown wren?\u201d (_C\u2019 \u00e0ite bheil thu, dhreathan\ndonn?_). The wren jumped up a little higher and said, \u201cFar, far, above\nyou\u201d (_Fada fada fos do chionn_). In consequence of this extraordinary\nfeat the wren has twelve eggs while the eagle has only two.\n\nNatural historians assert that the number of wren\u2019s eggs in one nest\nseldom exceed eight, but others have stated that the most number is\ntwelve or even fourteen. In these tales which have been got together\nin the West Highlands, the number is uniformly said to be twelve, but\nwhether this is actually the case or merely an assumption, there is no\ncall here for enquiring.\n\nThe wren and his twelve sons were threshing corn in a barn, when a fox\nentered and claimed one of the workers for his prize. It was agreed,\nsince he must get some one, that it should be the old wren, if he\nhimself could point him out from the rest. The thirteen wrens were so\nmuch alike that the fox was puzzled. At last he said, \u201cIt is easy to\ndistinguish the stroke of the old hero himself\u201d (_\u2019S fhurasda buille\nan t-sean laoich aithneachadh_). On hearing this, the old wren gave\nhimself a jauntier air, and said, \u201cthere was a day when such was the\ncase\u201d (_Bha latha dha sin_). After this the fox had no difficulty, for\nboasting was always illfated (_bha tubaist air a\u2019 bh\u00f2sd riamh_) and he\ntook his victim without any dispute.\n\nOn another occasion the wren and his twelve sons were going to the\npeatmoss, when they fell in with a plant of great virtue and high\nesteem. The old wren caught hold of the plant by the ears, and was\njerking it this way and that way, hard-binding it, and pulling it, as\nif peat-slicing; white was his face and red his cheek, but he failed to\npull the plant from the bare surface of the earth: the plant of virtues\nand blessings--(_Bha e \u2019ga dhudadh null \u2019s \u2019ga dhudadh nall, \u2019ga\nchruaidh-cheangal \u2019s \u2019ga bhuain-m\u00f2ine; bu gheal a shnuadh \u2019s bu dhearg\na ghruaidh, \u2019s cha tugadh e Meacain o chraicionn loma na talmhain;\nMeacan nam buadh \u2019s nam beannachd_).\n\nThe wren called for the assistance of one of his sons, saying, \u201cOver\nhere one of my sons to help me\u201d (_An so aon eallach mo mhac nall_), and\nthey caught the plant in the same way, jerking it this way and that\nway, hard-binding and peat-slicing with it; white were their faces and\nred their cheeks, but they could not with all their ardour, and their\nutmost strength pull the plant from the bare surface of the earth:\nthe plant of virtues and blessings (_\u2019S bha iad \u2019ga dhudadh null \u2019s\n\u2019ga dhudadh nall, \u2019ga chruaidh-cheangal \u2019s \u2019ga bhuain-m\u00f2ine; bu gheal\nan snuadh \u2019s bu dearg an gruaidh ach le \u2019n uile dhichioll \u2019s le \u2019n\ncruaidh-neart cha tugadh iad am Meacan o chraicionn loma na talmhain:\nMeacan nam buadh \u2019s nam beannachd_).\n\n\u201cOver here with two of my sons to help me\u201d (_An so d\u00e0 eallach mo mhac\nnall_), and the same operation was again performed unsuccessfully, and\nin the same way one after another, until the whole twelve sons came to\nthe assistance of the old wren. Then they grasped it altogether, and\nunder the severe strain the plant at last yielded, and all the wrens\nfell backwards into a peat pond and were drowned.\n\nThe old man from whom this story was heard said, that in winter time,\nwhen knitting straw ropes for thatching, he could get all the boys of\nthe village to come to assist him, and keep him company, and this they\ndid with cheerfulness on the understanding that the story of \u201cThe wren\nand his twelve sons\u201d would be illustrated at the end. One after another\nof the boys sat on the floor behind him, and he having a hold of the\nstraw rope was able easily to resist the strain till he choose to let\ngo, then all the boys fell back and the laughter that ensured was ample\nreward for their labour.\n\nThe fame of the wren for its forwardness and impudence is also\nillustrated by a story current in the south of Scotland, about Robin\nRedbreast having fallen sick, and the wren paying him a visit, and\nexpressing great condolence when, after making his will, Robin\ndismissed her, saying, \u201cGae pack oot at my chamber door, ye cuttie\nquean.\u201d In Gaelic the wren is also known by the name of _Dre\u00f2llan_,\nand _Dreathan-donn_, and the name as applied to human beings means a\nweakly, imbecile, trifling person, in whatever he takes in hand to do.\n\nAll the other birds in the same manner have their own share of actions\nascribed to them, and the manner in which several of them made a brag\nof their own young is amusing--particularly in Gaelic, in which the\ncall ascribed to them is more capable of imitation, and particularly in\nthe light of the manner in which the young of those who make the boast\nare looked upon.\n\n\u201cGleeful, gleeful,\u201d said the Gull, \u201cmy young is the supreme beauty.\u201d\n\n\u201cSorry, sorry,\u201d said the Hooded Crow, \u201cbut my son is the little Blue\nChick.\u201d\n\n\u201cCroak, croak,\u201d said the Raven, \u201cit is my son that can pick the lambs.\u201d\n\n\u201cClick, click,\u201d said the Eagle, \u201cit is my son that is lord over you.\u201d\n\n(\u201c_Gl\u00ectheag, glitheag,\u201d ors an Fhaoilean, \u201c\u2019se mo mhac-sa an Daogheal\nDonn._\u201d\n\n\u201c_Gurra, gurra,\u201d thuirt an Fheannag, \u201c\u2019se mo mo mhac-sa an Garrach\nGorm._\u201d\n\n\u201c_Gnog, gnog,\u201d ors am Fitheach, \u201c\u2019s e mo mhac-sa \u2019chriomas na h-uain._\u201d\n\n\u201c_Glig, glig,\u201d thuirt an Iolaire, \u201c\u2019s e mo mhac-sa \u2019s tighearna\noirbh._\u201d)\n\nIn the Highlands the young gull is called _Sgli\u00f9rach_ which is the\nregular name for a slatternly young woman. It is seen in the midst of\na storm alighting in the hollows, and restfully gliding to the highest\nsummits of the waves.\n\nThe hooded crow\u2019s fancy for its own young has passed into a proverb,\n\u201cThe hooded crow thinks its own impertinent blue progeny pretty\u201d (_\u2019S\nb\u00f2idheach leis an fheannaig a garrach gorm fhein_\u201d).\n\nOf the Raven it is commonly said, that it is so fond of its victim\u2019s\neyes that it will not even give them to its own young. Its supernatural\nknowledge of where carrion is to be found amounts almost to instinct,\nand is among the vices (_Dubhailcean_) ascribed to the bard.\n\nThe eagle can only fly from an elevated situation, from the difficulty\nof getting wind under its wings, and in this respect forms a great\ncontrast to the little wren.\n\nOf other tales in which the lower animals figure, the three following\nare noticeable.\n\nI.--THE TWO DEER. The young, confident of its own speed and strength,\nremarked:--\n\n \u201cSleek and yellow is my skin,\n And no beast ever planted foot\n On hillside that could catch me.\u201d\n\nThe old deer, who knew better, answered,\n\n \u201cThe young dog black-mouthed\n And yellow: the first dog\n Of the first litter. Born in March,\n And fed on quern meal and goat\u2019s milk,\n There never planted foot on hillside\n Beast it could not catch.\u201d\n\n (Sleamhuinn \u2019s buidhe mo bhian,\n \u2019S cha do chuir e eang air sliabh\n Beathach riamh \u2019bheireadh orm.\u201d\n\n \u201cAn cuilean bus-dubh buidhe,\n Ceud ch\u00f9 na saighe\n Rugadh anns a\u2019 Mh\u00e0rt\n \u2019S a bheathaichte air gairbhean\n \u2019S air bainne ghabhair\n Cha do chuir e eang air sliabh\n Beathach riamh nach beireadh e air).\n\nRegarding this description of the deer-hound it deserves notice that\nthe word _M\u00e0rt_, translated March, denotes any busy time of the year,\nthere being a m\u00e0rt, or busy season in harvest as well as in spring,\n_M\u00e0rt Fogharaidh_ as well as in _M\u00e0rt Earraich_, and that in the\nislands meal made with the Quern (_Br\u00e0thuin_), and from brown oats,\nwhich are the kind of oats most common in these islands, is stronger\nand more nourishing food than common meal. The merits of goat\u2019s milk\nare well known. This description of the best kind of deer-hound is\nstriking, and was taken down from a reciter in Skye.\n\nII.--THE TWO HORSES. Two horses were standing side by side, ready yoked\nand ready to commence ploughing, when the youngest, who was but newly\nbroken, and a stranger to field work, said, \u201cWe will plough this ridge\nand then that other ridge and after that the next one, and once we have\ncommenced we will do every ridge in sight, and once we have fairly\ncommenced we will not be long in doing the whole field.\u201d The old horse,\nwho had experience of the work, said, \u201cWe will plough this furrow\nitself first.\u201d\n\nIII.--THE TWO DOGS. There was a big, sleek, honest-looking dog, and a\nlittle yelping cur of \u201clow degree\u201d was always annoying him, and barking\nat him. One day he caught the little cur, and gave him a squeeze and\nsent it off yelping. When the cur recovered itself it said, \u201cI will not\nhurt you or touch you, but I will raise an ill report (_droch-alla_)\nabout you.\u201d In pursuance of his threat the cur went among his\nacquaintances, and such as he himself was. There are many dogs to be\nfound in every town.\n\n \u201cBoth mongrel puppy whelp and hound\n And curs of low degree.\u201d\n\nand to such the cur related how the big dog for all his smooth\nappearance and apparent good nature was in reality a cruel, deceitful\ndog and under all his apparent or seeming good manners, he was ready\nto fall upon those weaker than himself, whether they gave him cause\nor not, and if he could do it without being observed give them a bad\nshaking. He was a dangerous dog and ought to be watched and no wise dog\nshould put himself in his way.\n\nThis calumny made its way, found many believers and at last produced\nits natural fruit. The big honest dog found his company avoided and\nevery body looking upon him with suspicion.\n\nAt first the depression, and gloom which haunted him disappeared under\na hearty run, and the patting of its master, but it preyed so much on\nhim that he came to avoid society, and to be apparently indifferent\nto any company. This happens in the experiences of life, and that\ncauseless and evil reports are most dangerous in their consequences.\nSome time afterwards the cur was similarly dealt with by another cur,\nwho like himself had not very high principles.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CAT AND THE MOUSE.\n\nA GAELIC NURSERY RHYME.\n\n\n The Mouse said from her hiding place,\n \u201cWhat are you about, Grey Cat?\u201d\n \u201cFriendship, fellowship and love:\n You may come out!\u201d\n \u201cWell I know the hooked claw\n That is fastened in the sole of your feet\n You killed my sister yesterday,\n And with difficulty I myself escaped,\n You thieving cat, son of the grim grey one,\n Where were you yesterday when from home?\u201d\n \u201cI went away on my left hand\n To hunt for mince-meat in an evil hour;\n I was noticed by the goodman of the house,\n My eye being shut and my cheek full;\n He tightened my throat very hard,\n And called out to bring him the cheese-knife,\n He cut off one of my ears\n And the red root of the ear to the bone.\u201d\n\n Thuirt an Luchag, \u2019s i \u2019s an fhr\u00f2ig,\n \u201c\u2019D\u00e9 th\u2019 air t\u2019 aire, a Chait Ghlais?\u201d\n \u201cC\u00e0irdeas \u2019s comunn \u2019s gaol:\n Feudaidh tusa tighinn a mach.\u201d\n \u201cIs e\u00f2lach mi air an dubhan chrom\n \u2019Tha \u2019n s\u00e0s ann am bonn do chas!\n Mharbh thu mo phiuthar an d\u00e9,\n \u2019S ann air \u00e9iginn \u2019fhuair mi-fh\u00e9in as.\n A chaoitein, mhic Ghr\u00ecmeich Ghlais,\n C\u2019 \u00e0it an robh thu \u2019n raoir air chuairt?\u201d\n \u201cDh\u2019 fhalbh mi air mo l\u00e0imh-chl\u00ec\n \u2019Shealg nan \u00ecsbean \u2019s an droch uair;\n Mhothaich fear-an-tighe dhomh,\n Mo sh\u00f9\u00ecl druidte \u2019s mo phluic l\u00e0n;\n Theannaich e m\u2019 amhach gu cruaidh,\n \u2019S ghlaodh e nuas air corc a\u2019 ch\u00e0is,\n Thug e dhiom-sa an leth-chluas\n \u2019S am faillein ruadh gu ruig an cn\u00e0imh.\u201d\n\n\nNOTES:\n\n The foregoing rhyme is here given as being a more complete version\n than that to be found in vol. II. p. 389 (new edition p. 404) of\n \u201cPopular Tales of the West Highlands\u201d by the late J. F. Campbell, of\n Islay.\n\n\n\n\nGAMES.\n\n\nBOY\u2019S GAMES.\n\nIn the Highlands of Scotland, as in every other place where there are\nchildren, youthful plays and amusements had their sway, and it is\nworthy of attention how these amusements were eminently calculated to\ndevelop and strengthen mind and muscular strength in the young. The\nvarious amusements of Riddles, and the many forms of indoor or house\ngames are too numerous to describe, and in many instances not worth\nwhile dwelling upon. These games particularly called out the power of\nclose attention and of ready speech, and were as often played out of\ndoors as indoors, according to weather.\n\n\nI.\n\nWRESTLING MATCHES.\n\nWhen the youth of a village met at a _c\u00e9ilidh_, or indoor gathering,\nand a wrestling match was resolved upon, one of them was appointed\na king or master of the ceremonies, and the company was bound to be\nobedient to him in everything. In the following game a stout and likely\nlad was fixed upon to come in, in the character of a \u201cDesert Glede\u201d\n(_Croman F\u00e0saich_). When he came in, the following speech occurred:\naddressing the king, he said:--\n\n_Croman._\n\n\u201cLeigeadh da, leigeadh da, Dia,\u201d\n\n_Righ._\n\n\u201cCo as a th\u00e0inig thu, a Chromain Fh\u00e0saich, no \u2019de an dr\u00e0sda thug so\nthu?\u201d\n\n_Croman._\n\n\u201cTh\u00e0inig mi a m\u2019 fhonn \u2019s a m\u2019 fhearann, \u2019s a m\u2019 fh\u00e0sach fh\u00e9in.\u201d\n\n_Righ._\n\n\u201c\u2019D\u00e9 chuir fearann \u2019s fonn \u2019s f\u00e0sach agadsa \u2019s mise gun fhonn gun\nfhearann gun fh\u00e0sach.\u201d?\n\n_Croman._\n\n\u201cMo chruas, \u2019s mo luathas, \u2019s mo l\u00e0idireachd fh\u00e9in.\u201d\n\n_Righ._\n\n\u201cTha \u00f2ganach geur donn agamsa a leagadh tu, \u2019s a bhreabadh tu, \u2019s a\nbheireadh sia deug dh\u2019 iallan do dhroma asad, agus iall g\u2019 ad cheangal;\n\u2019s a mhi-mhodhaicheadh do bhean ann an clais na h-inne \u2019s tu fh\u00e9in\nceangailte.\u201d\n\n_Croman._\n\n\u201cCuir a mach so e ma ta.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\n_Kite, or Glede._\n\n\u201cPermit, permit, O Deity.\u201d\n\n_King._\n\n\u201cWhere have you come from, Kite of the Desert, and what has now brought\nyou here?\u201d\n\n_Kite._\n\n\u201cI come from my own land and soil and desert.\u201d\n\n_King._\n\n\u201cHow have you land and soil and desert, when I have neither land nor\nsoil nor desert?\u201d\n\n_Kite._\n\n\u201cMy own hardiness and swiftness and strength.\u201d\n\n_King._\n\n\u201cI have a smart brown-haired youth, who can throw you down, and kick\nyou, and take sixteen thongs out of your back, and a thong to tie\nyou with, and who can throw your wife into the byre gutter while you\nyourself are tied.\u201d\n\n_Kite._\n\n\u201cSend him out here then.\u201d\n\nThe wrestling then began, and the one who proved victor became \u201cDesert\nGlede\u201d for the next encounter, until the whole were run over.\n\nThe words were sometimes used in the following form:--\n\n_Righ._--\u201cDida-a-didacha-d\u00ecsa, a Chromain Fh\u00e0saich, co as dr\u00e0sda a\nchoisich thu?\u201d\n\n_Croman._--\u201cFeuch \u2019bheil g\u00ecomanach donn agad a chumas rium.\u201d\n\n_Righg._--\u201cTha agamsa g\u00ecomanach donn a chumas riut \u2019s a dheanadh loth\npheallagach dhiot aig dorus an tighe, etc.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\n_King._--\u201cDeeda-a-deedacha-deesa, Desert Glede, whence have you walked\nfrom now?\u201d\n\n_Kite._--\u201cTry whether you have a brown-haired youth to match me.\u201d\n\n_King._--\u201cI have a brown-haired youth that will match you and make a\nmatted colt of you at the door of the house, etc.\u201d\n\nAnother game popular on these occasions was one of forfeits, known\nas the \u201cParson\u2019s mare has gone amissing,\u201d (_L\u00e0ir a\u2019 pharsonaich air\nchall_). Every boy and girl in the company has a false name, given\nfor the occasion, such as \u201cOld Cow\u2019s Tail\u201d (_Earball Seana Mhairt_);\n\u201cRooster on the House-top\u201d (_Coileach air Tigh_), etc. The king, or\noverseer, commencing the game says,\n\n \u201cThe parson\u2019s mare has gone amissing,\n And it is a great shame that it should be so;\n Try who stole her.\u201d\n\n L\u00e0ir a\u2019 pharsonaich air chall,\n \u2019S m\u00f2r an n\u00e0ire dh\u2019 i bhi ann;\n Feuch c\u00f2 ghoid i.\n\nLooking round the circle, he fixes upon some one, and mentions him by\nthe assumed name. He fixes, for instance, on the one to whom the name\nof \u201cOld Cow\u2019s Tail\u201d was given, and the person mentioned or denoted was\nbound at once to answer, saying\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s a lie from you\u201d\n (\u2019S breugach dhuit e)\n\nto which the answer is,\n\n \u201cWho then is it?\u201d\n (Feuch c\u00f2 eile e?).\n\nThe person accused at once passes it on by mentioning some one else,\nsuch as the \u201cRooster on the House top,\u201d and the same query and answer,\n\u201cWho then is it?\u201d, etc., is passed on. The first one who fails in\ngiving a ready reply has to submit to give a forfeit which the ruler\nkeeps in security till all have been exacted; then some one bends down\nand rests his head upon the king\u2019s knee, when the forfeits are held\nupon his head and he is made to award the punishment of redeeming\nthem. He does not see whose forfeit it is, and the penalty imposed is\nsometimes very ludicrous and impossible. One, for instance, has to sit\non the fire till his stomach boils (_Suidhe air an teine gus am bi a\nghoile air ghoil_); another is to go out to the hillock in front of the\nvillage and bawl out three times,\n\n \u201cThis is the one who did the mischief\n And who will do it to-night yet.\u201d\n\n (\u2019S mise an duine a rinn an t-olc\n \u2019S n\u00ec mi \u2019n nochd fhathast e).\n\nThis game requires great readiness and retentiveness of mind. The\nattention being kept continually on the strain in case one\u2019s own\nassumed name be called out, and a readiness to pass the accusation on\nto another.\n\nThe game of \u201cHide and Seek\u201d was practised in the Highlands in many\nforms. Probably the earliest and simplest is that of young children\nplaying round their mother, while she was engaged in baking bread. It\nwas the custom in olden times to gather the meal or remains of dough\nleft over after the oatcakes of bread were made, and duly work it into\na cake by itself, called the _Bonnach Beag_, or \u201cLittle Cake,\u201d also\nknown as _Siantachan a\u2019 Chl\u00e0ir_, \u201cThe Charmer of the Board,\u201d which\nwas supposed to be of mysterious value in keeping want away from the\nhouse. This little cake was given to the children, and when butter was\nready or accessible, was thickly covered and given to the little fry,\nmaking a very welcome and grateful treat. Sometimes when the butter was\nvery thickly spread, and perhaps with the thumb as the readiest and\nmost convenient substitute for a knife, the housewife said, \u201cHere take\nthat; it is better than a hoard of cloth\u201d (Gabh sin; \u2019s fhearr e na m\u00ecr\nliath \u2019an cl\u00f9d). Hence the expression that was used to denote that the\npreparations were not quite over:\n\n \u201cCha \u2019n \u2019eil am bonnach beag bruich fhathast.\u201d\n (The little cake is not ready yet).\n\nNot infrequently the little things hid their heads under their mother\u2019s\napron, thinking, like the ostrich of the desert that if their heads\nwere hidden, none of the rest of them would be seen. When children\nplayed the game in the open air, the stackyard was commonly resorted\nto, and the one who was fixed upon as the Blind Man, while the rest\nwere hiding themselves had to call out three times,\n\n \u201cOpera-opera-bo-baideag\u201d\n\nadding at the third time,\n\n\u201cDalladh agus bodharadh agus d\u00ecth na d\u00e0 chluais air an fhear nach cuala\nsud.\u201d\n\n(Blindness and deafness and the loss of both ears be the lot of the one\nwho will not hear that).\n\nThe Blind-man then caught hold of one of the stacks, and went round,\nguided by his hands, giving occasional kicks in case any one should be\nhiding himself near the ground.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\nI.--FINLAY GUIVNAC.\n\n(Page 44).\n\n_Guibhnich_, or _Duimhnich_, were the Campbells. In a song in dispraise\nof the clan occurs,\n\n \u201cBheir mi \u2019n sgr\u00ecob so air na Guibhnich\n Air son cuimhneachadh o nuadh.\n\n (I will make this line on the Campbell clan,\n To remind them anew);\n\nand in another similar song,\n\n \u201cSgrios a\u2019 chorrain air a\u2019 choinnlein\n Air na bheil be\u00f2 do na Guibhnich.\u201d\n\n (The destruction of the reaping-hook on a grain of corn\n On the living race of the Campbell clan).\n\nIn Stewart\u2019s Collection, p. 320, is found,\n\n \u201cDean mo ghearan gu cuimhneach\n Ris na Duimhnidh ghlan uasal.\u201d\n\n (Be mindful to lay my complaint\n Before the pure-minded noble Campbells).\n\n\nII.--PORT-NAN-LONG.\n\n(Page 52).\n\n_Port-nan-long_ is said to have got its name from the following\ncircumstance:--About the year 500 A.D., the few inhabitants then\nliving in Tiree were in the township and neighbourhood of Sorabi,\nwhere there was a chapel, and which lies on the south-east side of\nthe island, and is separated by the stream of the same name running\npast the burying-ground into the bay, from the township of Balinoe\n(_Baile-nodha_). The island having been previously desolated by\npirates and cattle-raiders, and a rumour being heard at this time that\na band of these had again returned among the islands to renew their\ndepredations, a watch was kept, and the factor of the community, who\nappears to have been their only protector and counsellor, went daily\nto look seawards for the appearance of the enemy, lest the small and\nfeeble band might be surprised before they could make their escape\nor reach a hiding-place. One day then he saw ships coming from the\nsouth-east, and he went in and sent word to his neighbours. When he\nlooked again, the ships were nearer and were a large fleet. The next\nlook he gave he saw that they were close at hand, near the land. He\nthen called the people round him, and told them how he could see that\ntheir enemies, who were near, were too powerful to be resisted; that as\nhe himself and those with him were defenceless, and unable to escape,\ntheir only hope of deliverance from their terrible danger was in the\npower of Almighty God, whose aid he would ask, and kneeling on the\nground with his friends and neighbours around him, he said, \u201cO Lord,\nas all power is in thy hand, help us against these enemies who are\ncoming on us (to destroy us)\u201d; (_A Thighearna, o \u2019n a\u2019s ann ad l\u00e0imh\na tha gach cumhachd, cuidich leinn o na naimhdean sin a tha \u2019tighinn\noirnn!_). He had scarcely uttered the last word when a violent storm\ncame from the south-east, and the ships of the enemy came ashore, one\nheaped above another (_air muin a\u2019 ch\u00e9ile_). Sixteen of them were\ncompletely destroyed. One person even was not left to tell their fate;\nand from that time the place has been called _Port-nan-long_, (the\nCreek of Boats).\n\n\nIII.--A TRADITION OF MORAR.\n\nMAC VIC AILEIN OF MORAR (_M\u00f2r-th\u00ecr_) was out in a shealing with his\nmen, on a summer morning, and saw a young woman following cows, with\nher petticoats gathered to keep them dry, as the dew was heavy on the\nground (_a c\u00f2taichean truiste, le truimead an dri\u00f9chd, g\u2019 an cumail\ntioram_). He said, \u201cWould not that be a handsome young woman if her\ntwo legs were not so slender (_mur biodh caoilead a d\u00e0 choise_).\u201d She\nanswered in his hearing, \u201cOften a slender-shanked cow has a large\nudder[31] (_is minig a bha \u00f9th mh\u00f2r aig b\u00f2 chaol-chasach_).\u201d He asked\nher to be brought where he was; she was his own dairymaid. She went\naway to Ireland, and named her son Murdoch after his foster-father\n(_oide_), whom she afterwards married. He was known as Little Murdoch\nMacRonald (_Murcha beag Mac Raonuill_). As he grew older his mother\nwould be telling him about a brother he had in Alban (_an Albainn_)\nwho was a strong and powerful man, and the lad, being a good wrestler,\nthought he would like to go and see him, to try a bout of wrestling\n(_car-gleachd_) with him, to find which of them was the strongest man,\nand watched for an opportunity to get to Alban. As there was frequent\ncommunication then between Ireland and the Western Highlands he had\nnot long to wait till he saw a boat in which it was likely he would\nbe taken. He went to the harbour and on reaching the boat, without\nknowing that it belonged to his brother, asked the first person he\nmet, who was _Mac vic Ailein_ himself, if he would get ferried across\nto Scotland (_dh\u2019 iarr e \u2019n t-aiseag_). _Mac vic Ailein_ said that he\nwould take him with them. When they went away the day became stormy\n(_sh\u00e9id an latha_), and no one who went to steer but was lifted from\nthe helm,[32] _Mac vic Ailein_ being thrown aside as well as the\nothers. When _Murcha beag Mac Raonuill_ saw that the strongest man\namong them could not stand at the helm, he asked to be allowed to try\nit. \u201cYou would get that,\u201d _Mac vic Ailein_ said, \u201cif you were like a\nman who was able to do it, but when it is beyond our strength (_\u2019nuair\na dh\u2019 fhairtlich i oirnn fh\u00e9in_), you need not make the attempt.\u201d \u201cAt\nany rate,\u201d he said \u201cI will give it a trial\u201d: and it did not make him\nalter his position (_cha do chuir i thar a bhuinn e_) till they reached\nland. As he was the best seaman _Mac vic Ailein_ would not part with\nhim. He took him to his house and entertained him as a guest. They\nentered into conversation and began to give news to each other (_chaidh\niad gu seanachas agus gu naigheachdan_) till little Murdoch told him\nhe was his brother and that it was for the express purpose (_a dh\u2019 aon\nobair_) of seeing him he had come from Ireland, and that he would not\nreturn till they tried a bout of wrestling, since _Mac vic Ailein_ was\nso renowned for his prowess, and he would find out what strength he\npossessed before he left. The heroes rose and began to wrestle, but\nin a short time _Mac vic Ailein_ was thrown (_Dh\u2019 \u00e9irich na suinn,\nach ann an tiota bha Mac \u2019ic Ailein \u2019s a dhruim ri talamh_). \u201cI am\npleased to have taken the trouble of coming from Ireland (_toilichte\nas mo shaothair_),\u201d Murdoch said. Next day at dinner they had beef on\nthe table, and little Murdoch said, \u201cLet us try which of us can break\nthe shank bone[33] (_a\u2019 chama-dhubh_) with the hand closed.\u201d \u201cI am\nwilling,\u201d _Mac vic Ailein_ said. \u201cWell, try it, then,\u201d Murdoch said.\n_Mac vic Ailein_ tried as hard as his strength would permit, and it\ndefied him (_dh\u2019 fhairtlich i air_). Murdoch broke it at the first\nblow. _Mac vic Ailein_ then said, \u201cYou will not return to Ireland any\nmore; you will stay with me, and we will divide the estate between us.\u201d\nMurdoch replied, \u201cI am well to do as it is (_gl\u00e9 mhath dheth mar th\u00e0_),\nmy mother and stepfather have sufficient worldly means (_gu le\u00f2ir de\n\u2019n t-saoghal_), and I will not stay away from them though you were to\ngive me the whole estate,\u201d and wishing _Mac vic Ailein_ enjoyment and\nprosperity, he bade him farewell and returned to Ireland, and friendly\ncommunication was kept up between them ever afterwards during their\nlives.\n\n\nIV.--CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN J. F. CAMPBELL OF ISLAY AND J. G. CAMPBELL.\n\nAmong the treasures regarding folk-lore that I have been able to\ncollect are a few letters of the late J. F. Campbell of Islay to the\nRev. J. G. Campbell, late Minister of Tiree. They deal with various\nquestions and traditions.\n\n_Inter alia_ is a discussion concerning the word s\u00e0il versus s\u00ecol\nDhiarmaid. I give the letters as written.\n\n A. CAMPBELL.\n\n\nS\u00c0IL OR S\u00ccOL DHIARMAID.\n\nThe late Campbell of Islay to the late J. G. Campbell.\n\n TRAVELLERS\u2019 CLUB,\n Feb. 27, 1871.\n\n MY DEAR SIR,\n\n I\u2019ll get you the books you name and send them soon. With regard to\n s\u00e0il there was once an actor who amused an audience by putting his\n head under his cloak and squealing like a pig. A countryman rose and\n said that he would squeal better next day. So a match was made and\n tried. The audience applauded the actor and hissed the countryman. But\n he produced a pig from under his cloak. I know what the man meant who\n signed S\u00e0il Dhiarmaid. The man who spoke no other language pointed to\n the place in his foot which he meant by S\u00e0il, so I learned the lesson,\n and anybody who will try may learn a good deal about Gaelic in the\n same fashion.\n\n [Illustration]\n\n If a man starts with the conviction that knowledge is to the unknown\n as a drop in the ocean--he will get on.\n\n I have MacNicol, and know his remark about Ossian\u2019s leg.\n\n I have now got the only copy that ever was written, so far as I know,\n and I shall be glad to get more. But we must all take what we can\n get. As far as fixing the king or the country and the date, that is\n perfectly hopeless. I have about 16 versions of one story in Gaelic,\n and no two have the same name. I suppose that there must be sixty\n versions of it known in other languages, and no two are alike. The\n oldest I know is scattered in ejaculations and separate lines through\n the Rigveda Sanhit\u00e2, which is a collection of hymns in Sanscrit, and\n the oldest things known. St. George and the Dragon is a form of the\n story. Perseus and Andromeda is another. In Gaelic it is generally\n _Mac an Iasgair_, or _Iain Mac_ somebody, or _Fionn Mac a\u2019 Bhradain_,\n a something to do with a mermaid or a dragon, the herding of cows and\n the slaying of giants. The stories to which I referred were told me\n by John Ardfenaig as facts (the Duke of Argyll\u2019s factor in the Ross\n of Mull). A man built a boat. Another, to spite him, said that the\n death of a man was in that boat--no one would go to sea in it, and at\n last the boat was sold by the builder to an unbeliever in ghosts and\n dreams. The other was how the turnips were protected in Tiree. If you\n know these you have got far, but if not you have a good deal to learn\n in Tiree.\n\n I wish you success anyhow,\n Yours truly,\n J. F. CAMPBELL.\n\n\n NIDDRY LODGE, KENSINGTON,\n March 28, 1871.\n\n MY DEAR SIR,\n\n I have been too busy about festivities and work to be able to get the\n book which I promised to seek for you. I got your letter of the 20th,\n yesterday, and I am much obliged by your promise to put some one to\n write for me. If he writes from dictation will you kindly _beg him to\n follow the words spoken_ without regard to his own opinion, or to what\n they ought to be. I speak English, but when I come to read Chaucer I\n find words that I am not used to. So it is when men who speak Gaelic\n begin to write old stories. Our argument is an illustration. You speak\n Gaelic and you believe that S\u00e0il means heel and nothing else. You told\n me that S\u00e0il Dhiarmaid ought to be S\u00ecol.\n\n Now I speak Gaelic, but I profess to be a scholar, not a teacher.\n I happen to know that the man who signed S\u00e0il Dhiarmaid, which was\n printed _S\u00e0il_ didn\u2019t mean _S\u00ecol_. I have the following quotation,--\n\n \u201c_Eisdibh beag ma \u2019s \u00e0ill leibh laoidh_\n\n * * * * *\n\n _Chaidh am bior nimh\u2019 bu mh\u00f2r cr\u00e0dh\n An S\u00e0il an laoich nach tl\u00e0th \u2019s an trod--\n \u2019S e ri sior chall na fala\n Le lot a\u2019 bhior air a bhonn._\u201d\n\n [Illustration]\n\n In this old lay as sung in the outer isles these would mean the spot\n which an old Mull man pointed to as s\u00e0il.[34]\n\n If you are sceptical I hold to my creed of the people. But creed or no\n creed I want to get the tradition as it exists and I would not give a\n snuff for \u201ccooked\u201d tradition.\n\n Tuesday, Oct. 10, 1871.\n CONAN HOUSE, DINGWALL.\n\n MY DEAR SIR,\n\n I promised yesterday at Portree to send you my version of the fairy\n song, and asked you to return yours. You must remember that I never\n tried to write it from Gaelic, and that I never tried to write it from\n rapid dictation till last month. Correct my spelling, but mind that\n I took the _sounds_ from ear, so preserve all that you can without\n reference to dictionary words. Don\u2019t be hard upon a clansman who is\n doing his best.\n\n Believe me,\n Yours very truly,\n J. F. CAMPBELL.\n\n From John Cameron, a man about 60, who lives in the south end of\n Barra, about three miles from Castlebay. He can sing and recite,\n 1.--The Maiden (written by J. F. C.); 2.--The Death of Diarmaid;\n 3.--The Death of Osgar; 4.--The Battle of Manus (written by J. F. C.);\n 5.--The story of the Death of Garry; 6.--The Black Dog; 7.--The story\n of ditto. 8.--The Smithy and story; 9.--The _Muireartach_; 10.--D\u00e0n\n an Deirg; 11.--The Fairy Song (as written here by J. F. C.); 12.--How\n Coireal was slain; 13.--Fionn\u2019s questions; 14.--A small story written;\n and sundry other songs, lays, and stories, which he will get written\n if I wish it. This is one of about a dozen of men whom I have met of\n late who can sing and recite Ossianic ballads, of which some are not\n in any book or old manuscript that I know. I have another version of\n this song, written about ten years ago--by MacLean,[35] I think. See\n Vol. IV. Popular Tales, Lists somewhere. It is now in London.\n\n\nTHE FAIRY SONG.\n\nThe tune is very wild and like a pibroch. I could not learn it in the\ntime.\n\n\n_This is the story as told in Gaelic._\n\nThere was a time, at first, when before children were christened\nthey used to be taken by the fairies. A child was born and it was in\na woman\u2019s lap. A fairy came to the _Bean-ghl\u00f9n_ and she said to the\nmidwife, \u201c_\u2019S trom do leanabh_.\u201d \u201c_\u2019S trom gach torrach_,\u201d said the\nother. \u201c_\u2019S aotrom do leanabh_,\u201d said the fairy. \u201c_\u2019S aotrom gach\nsoghalach_,\u201d said the midwife, \u201c_\u2019S glas do leanabh_,\u201d said the fairy.\n\u201c_\u2019S glas am fiar \u2019s f\u00e0saidh e_,\u201d said the other; and so she came day\nby day with words and with singing of verses to try if she could \u201cword\u201d\nhim away with her--\u201c_am briatharachadh i leatha \u00e8_.\u201d But the mother\nalways had her answer ready. There was a lad recovering from a fever in\nthe house and he heard all these words, and learned them, and he put\nthe song together afterwards: after the child was christened the fairy\ncame back no more.\n\nThis is the song. I have tried to divide the words so as to represent\nthe rhythm of the tune, but I am not sure that I have succeeded.--J. F.\nC.\n\nI have given a rough copy to Miss MacLeod of MacLeod at Dunvegan, and I\nshould like to have _this_ or _a copy_ back if it is not troublesome.\nMy first manuscript is not easy to read, and I have worked this from it.\n\n Fairy:--\u201c\u2019S e mo leanabh m\u00ecleanach\n Seachd Ma\u00ecleanach\n Seachd Dhuanach,\n Gual na lag; \u2019s lag na luineach\n Nach d\u2019 fh\u00e0s \u201cnacach.\u201d\n\n [Reciter don\u2019t understand gnathach, common.]\n\n\n Mother:--Se mo leanabh ruiteach (colour ruddy)\n Reamhar molteach\n Miuthear mo luachair\n Ohog ri mnathan\n M\u2019 e\u00f2in \u2019us m\u2019 uighean\n On thug thu muine leat\n \u2019Us maire leat\n \u2019Us mo chrodh l\u00f9igh\n \u2019Us mo lochraidh leat.\n\n Mother:--Bha thu fo \u2019m chrios an uire\n \u2019S tha thu \u2019m bliadhna\n Gu cruinn buanach\n Air mo guailain\n Feadh a bhaile.\n\n Fairy:--Thug go gu g\u014frach (fat, Reciter)\n Mnath \u2019n \u00f2g a bhaile\n Lan _shaochail_[36] uimach\n Thug go gu g\u014frach\n Le \u2019n ciabhan dhonna\n Le \u2019n ciabhan troma\n\n[He said at first somewhere, \u201cLe \u2019n ciochan corrach\u201d? place.]\n\n Thug go gu g\u014frach\n \u2019S le \u2019n suilean donna\n\n Mother:--Se sin Leoid\n Na lorg \u2019s na luireach\n Se Lochlan bu duchas dhuit\n O fire fire n\u00ec mi uimad\n Cireadh do chinn\n Ni mi uimad.\n\n Fairy:--Fire fire n\u00ec mi uimad\n Cha tu an uan beag\n Ni mi uimad\n Crodh \u2019us caorich\n Ni mi uimad.\n\n Mother:--Fire fire ni mi uimad\n Breachan chaola\n Ni mi uimad\n Fire fire ni mi uimad\n A bhog mhiladh (? fileadh. Oh soft soldier, soft mine own)\n O bh\u00f2g \u2019s leam thu\n O bhog mhilidh bhog\n Mo bhr\u00f9 a rug\n O bhog mhilidh bhog\n Mo chioch a thug\n O bhog mhilidh bhog\n Mo gluin a thog\n O bhog mhilidh\n Bho \u2019s leam thu.\n\n Fairy:--B\u2019 fhe\u00e0rr leam gu faic mi do bhuaille\n Gu \u00e0rd \u00e0rd an iomal sleibhe\n C\u00f2ta geal cateanach[37] uaine\n Mu do ghuailain ghil \u2019us l\u00e9ine.\n\n Nurse:--B\u2019 fhearr leam gu faichean do sheisearach\n Fir na deance (?) a cuit shil\n Gu r\u00f2 do cheol air feadh do thalla (land or hall)\n Leann bhi ga gabhail le f\u00econ\n Bhog mhilidh bhog\n \u2019S leam thu.\n\nAnd so she says a verse each day, and if that would not do, she came\nthe next and made another, and the little lad made out the song which\nhe sat and heard. When the child was baptized she went away and never\ncame back again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nN.B.--I have set the verses to each character as best I could, not\nknowing much about it except the last two, these the reciter placed.\n\n\nNOTES:\n\n_The Fairy Song_ in the MS. is most difficult to read. It was written\nphonetically, and is now in some places indistinct. The following\ntransliteration and translation by Mr. Duncan Mac Isaac, of Oban,\nshow a probable reading, and this may be enough, in view of the\nspell-words of the fairy, whose mystic diction appears to have been\nof a conservative quality, and to have affected the responses of the\ninfant\u2019s mother.--[A. C.]\n\n Fairy--\u2019S e mo leanabh m\u00ec-loinneach\n Seac maoileanach\n Seac ghuanach,\n Guailne lag, \u2019s lag \u2019n a l\u00f9ireach\n Nach d\u2019 \u00f9isinnicheadh.\n\n Mother:--\u2019S e mo leanabh ruiteach\n Reamhar moltach\n M\u2019 iubhar mo luachair\n A thog ri mnathan\n M\u2019 e\u00f2in is m\u2019 uighean\n O \u2019n thug thu m\u2019 \u00f9ine leat\n Is m\u2019 aire leat\n Is mo chrodh-laoigh\n Is mo laochraidh leat.\n\n Mother:--Bha thu fo \u2019m chrios an uiridh\n \u2019S tha thu \u2019m bliadhna\n Gu cruinn buanach\n Air mo ghualainn\n Feadh a\u2019 bhaile.\n\n Fairy:--Thuth g\u00f2 gugurach\n Mnathan \u00f2g a\u2019 bhaile\n L\u00e0n sh\u00f2ghail uidheamach\n Thuth g\u00f2 gugurach\n Le \u2019n ciabhan donna\n Le \u2019n ciabhan troma\n Thug go gugurach\n Le \u2019n c\u00ecochan corrach\n \u2019S le \u2019n s\u00f9ilean donna.\n\n Mother:--\u2019S e sin Le\u00f2id\n \u2019N a lorg \u2019s \u2019n a l\u00f9ireach\n \u2019S Lochlann bu d\u00f9thchas dhuit\n O fire fire n\u00ec mi umad\n C\u00ecreadh do chinn\n N\u00ec mi umad.\n\n Fairy:--Fire fire n\u00ec mi umad\n Cha tu an t-uan beag\n N\u00ec mi umad.\n Crodh is caoraich\n N\u00ec mi umad.\n\n Mother:--Fire fire n\u00ec mi umad\n Breacain chaola\n N\u00ec mi umad\n Fire fire n\u00ec mi umad\n A bhog mh\u00eclidh\n O bhog \u2019s leam thu\n O bhog mh\u00eclidh bhog\n Mo bhr\u00f9 a rug\n O bhog mh\u00eclidh bhog\n Mo ch\u00ecoch a thug\n O bhog mh\u00eclidh bhog\n Mo ghl\u00f9in a thog\n O bhog mh\u00eclidh\n Bho \u2019s leam thu.\n\n Fairy:--B\u2019 fhe\u00e0rr leam gu faic mi do bhuaile\n Gu \u00e0rd \u00e0rd \u2019an iomall sl\u00e9ibhe\n C\u00f2ta geal caiteineach uaine\n Mu do ghualainn ghil is l\u00e9ine.\n\n Mother:--B\u2019 fhe\u00e0rr leam gu faicinn do sheisreach\n Fir na deannaige a\u2019 cur s\u00ecl\n Gu robh do che\u00f2l air feadh do thalla\n Leann \u2019bhi \u2019g a ghabhail le f\u00econ\n Bhog mh\u00eclidh bhog\n \u2019S leam thu.\n\n Fairy:--He is my ungraceful child,\n Withered, bald, and light-headed,\n Weak-shouldered, and weak in his equipments,\n That have not been put to use.\n\n Mother:--He is my ruddy child, plump and praiseworthy;\n My yew-tree, my rush, raised to women;\n My bird and my eggs, since thou hast taken my time with thee,\n My watchful care, my calved-cows, and my heroes with thee;\n Last year thou wast under my girdle,\n Thou art this year neatly gathered\n Continually upon my shoulder\n Through the town.\n\n Fairy:--Hooh go googurach,\n Young women of the town, fond of delicacies and dresses,\n Hooh go googurach,\n With their brown ringlets, with their heavy tresses,\n With their abrupt breasts, with their brown eyes.\n\n Mother:--That is a Mac Leod by heredity\n In his coat of mail;\n Thy nativity is Scandinavian;\n O pother, pother, the combing of thy head,\n I\u2019ll do that about thee.\n\n Fairy:--Pother, pother, I\u2019ll do about thee;\n Thou art not the little lamb\n I\u2019ll make about thee,\n Cattle and sheep I\u2019ll make about thee.\n\n Mother:--Pother, pother, I\u2019ll do about thee,\n Narrow plaids I\u2019ll make about thee,\n O pother I\u2019ll make about thee, thou soft warrior,\n O tender one, thou art mine, thou soft soldier,\n The fruit of my womb, thou soft, tender warrior,\n My breast that took, thou soft champion,\n Reared upon my knees, thou tender champion,\n Since thou art mine.\n\n Fairy:--I\u2019d prefer to see thy cattle-fold\n High, high on the shoulder of the mountain,\n A white coat, ruffled green,\n About thy white shoulders, and a shirt.\n\n Mother:--I\u2019d prefer to see thy team of horses,\n And the men of the handfuls sowing seed,\n And that thy music would be through thy hall\n Accompanied by ale and wine;\n Thou tender champion,\n Thou art mine.\n\nThe late Campbell of Islay in the following letter, extracts of which\nwill be given, alludes to Mr. Campbell\u2019s intention of publishing at no\ndistant date.\n\n NIDDRY LODGE, Jan., 16, 1871.\n\n I thank you for your letter of the 10th which reached me on Saturday,\n on my return to Tiree.\n\n I shall be very glad to assist a namesake and a Highland minister\n who is engaged in literary work, in which I take a special interest\n myself. I now repeat my message, and ask you to place my name on the\n list of subscribers, if you have one. I shall be very glad to read\n your book. I am not publishing more Gaelic tales, but I am collecting,\n and I may some day publish a selection or an abstract or something\n from a great mass which I have got together. If you have anything\n to spare from your gatherings perhaps the best plan would be to\n employ some good scribe, etc. etc. etc. If you have any intention\n of publishing I beg that you will not think of sending me your\n gatherings. But anything sent will be carefully preserved.\n\n Superstitions are very interesting, but I should fear that the people\n will not confide their superstitions to the minister. Amongst other\n matters which are noteworthy are superstitious practices about fowls.\n\n These prevail in Scotland, and are identical with sacrifices by the\n blacks amongst whom Speke and Grant travelled--so Grant told me.\n Anything to do with serpents has special interest because of the\n extent of ancient serpent worship, for which see Ferguson\u2019s great book\n on Tree and Serpent Worship in India and elsewhere. The connection\n between tree and well worship in India and in Scotland generally, and\n generally in the old world, is well worth investigation; also anything\n that is like the Vedic forms of religion, at which you can get by\n reading Wilson\u2019s Translation of the Rigveda Sanhit\u00e2, and the works of\n Max Muller. Anything belonging specially to the sea is interesting.\n The Aryans are supposed to have been natives of Central Asia, to whom\n the sea must have been a great mystery.\n\n Now it is a fact that all the Aryan nations have curious beliefs and\n ceremonies and practices about going to sea, _e.g._--you must not\n whistle at sea; you must not name a mouse _Luds_ in Argyll but _Biast\n tighe_; you must not say the shore names for _fine_ or _low_ when at\n sea, but use sea terms; all that is curious and very hard to get at.\n Even to me they will not confess their creed in the supernatural. I\n have a great lot of stuff that might be useful to you, and I shall be\n glad to serve you, because there is a certain narrow-minded spirit\n abroad to which reference is made in the paper which I send herewith.\n It is highly probable that I may be out in the west in spring or\n summer.\n\n Yours very truly,\n J. F. CAMPBELL.\n\n\nThe following letter refers to the longest and most complex tale orally\npreserved in the Highlands, \u2018The Leeching of Kian\u2019s Leg.\u2019 The version\nwhich Islay mentions is still unprinted. It is preserved with a portion\nof his MSS. in the Advocate\u2019s Library at Edinburgh, and a summary of\nits contents has been published by me in _Folk-Lore_, Vol. I., p.\n369. Mr. Campbell\u2019s fragmentary version was printed and translated by\nhim, \u2018Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Inverness, 1888.\u2019 Another\nfragmentary version, collected by the Rev. D. MacInnes, will be found\nin Vol. II. of this series. The oldest known MS. version, alluded to\nin this letter, has been edited and translated by Mr. Standish Hayes\nO\u2019Grady in _Silva Gadelica_, from a 15th century MS. A re-telling of\nthe story, based upon all the versions, will be found in Mr. Jacob\u2019s\n_More Celtic Fairy Tales_.--A. N.\n\n May, 4, 71. NIDDRY LODGE,\n KENSINGTON.\n\n MY DEAR SIR,\n\n I sent you a _Times_ review of Clerk\u2019s Ossian the other day to amuse\n you; also a paper with an account of fighting in Paris, where I was at\n Easter.\n\n I got your letter and parcel of May 1, last night, and I have just\n read the story. It is extremely well written, and the language is\n vernacular and perfectly genuine: as I have now got 20 volumes, and\n half another, I am able to judge. Yours is a version of the story\n of which I sent you the abstract. If ever I publish the story I see\n that I must fuse versions, and select from the majority of various\n readings, under the name of \u201cThe Leching of Khene is legg.\u201d The story\n is mentioned in the Catalogue of the Earl of Kildare\u2019s library amongst\n the Irish Books, A.D. 1526 (Harleian MSS., 3756, Brit. Museum). I gave\n this information to Kildare, who has been hunting high and low to find\n out what was meant, they could not tell him in Ireland. I met him at\n Lorne\u2019s marriage and lent him my copy, 142 pages from oral recitation.\n Now you send me 19 more pages, and 3 of another version, 22. Between\n us we have already recovered something of a story 345 years old at\n least.\n\n Therefore Tradition is respectable; a comparison of versions gives a\n fair measure of the power of popular memory, so that written Gaelic\n folk-lore is a kind of measure for other and older written traditions.\n But as all that is old in history was tradition at first, the study\n is worth trouble as I judge. The more we can get written the better\n pleased I shall be. I am exceedingly obliged to you, and hope to thank\n you in person some of these days.\n\n I am,\n Yours truly,\n J. F. CAMPBELL.\n\n\n\n\n NOTES:\n\n[31] In the oldest known version of the Exile of the Son of Usnech\n(preserved in the 12th century MS., the Book of Leinster) when Noisi\nsees Deirdre for the first time, he exclaims, \u2018\u2019Tis a fair heifer\npassing by me.\u2019 She answers, \u2018Where the bulls are there must needs be\nfine heifers.\u2019 This is one of the passages relied upon by Prof. Zimmer\nin support of his contention that old Irish literature is so extremely\n\u2018naturalistic\u2019 in its treatment of sexual matters that we must needs\nsuppose the Aryan Celts were polluted by a rude and more archaic\npopulation. I confess I see nothing in either the earlier or the\npresent passage but the simplicity of a race living, 2000 years ago, as\nit still in part does, very close to nature, and accustomed to frank\nspeaking about natural matters. The whole of this tradition is simply\nthe fitting into a local frame of incidents which are commonplaces in\nthe folk-tales.--A. N.\n\n[32] The helm was worked by being caught by the shoulders of the\nsteersman as it worked backwards and forwards (_\u2019g a cheapadh le\n\u2019shlinneanan a null \u2019s a nall_).\n\n[33] _A\u2019 chama-dhubh_, the bone of the animal between the knee\nand shoulder-point (_na bha de\u2019n chn\u00e0imh eadar an gl\u00f9n agus an\nt-alt-l\u00f9thainn_).\n\n[34] This discussion is doubtless concerning the spot where tradition\nsays the bristle of the boar wounded Diarmaid when he measured the\nlength of the dead beast.--A. C.\n\n[35] Hector MacLean, Ballygrant, Islay: now dead.--A. C.\n\n[36] Suobhcail or saobh chiall.\n\n[37] Hairy, rough, shaggy.\n\n\n_Archibald Sinclair Printer Celtic Press, 10 Bothwell Street, Glasgow._\n\n\n\n\n_A SELECTION FROM_\n\nMR. DAVID NUTT\u2019S LIST OF WORKS\n\nON\n\nCeltic Antiquities and Philology.\n\n\n =Beside the Fire: Irish Gaelic Folk Stories.= Collected, Edited,\n Translated, and Annotated by DOUGLAS HYDE, M.A.; with Additional\n Notes by ALFRED NUTT. 8vo. lviii, 203 pages. Cloth. 7s. 6d. The Irish\n printed in Irish Character.\n\n\u2042 One of the best recent collections of Irish folk tales.\n\n\nBY WHITLEY STOKES, LL.D.\n\n =On the Calendar of Oengus.= Comprising Text, Translation, Glossarial\n Index, Notes. 4to. 1880. xxxi, 552 pp. Nett 18s.\n\n =Saltair na Rann= (Psalter of the Staves or Quatrains). A Collection\n of early Middle-Irish Poems. With Glossary. 4to. 1883. vi, 153 pp.\n Nett 7s. 6d.\n\n =The Old Irish Glosses at Wurzburg and Carlsruhe.= With Translation\n and Index. 1887. 345 pp. Nett 5s.\n\n\u2042 The oldest dated remains of Gaelic or any Celtic language.\n\n =Cormac\u2019s Glossary.= Translated and Edited by the late JOHN O\u2019DONOVAN,\n with Notes and Indexes by W. S. Calcutta. 1868. 4to. The few remaining\n copies, nett \u00a31 10s.\n\n\u2042 One of the most valuable remains of old Irish literature for the\nphilologist and mythologist.\n\n =The Bodley Dinnshenchas.= Edited, Translated, and Annotated. 8vo.\n 1892. Nett 2s. 6d.\n\n =The Edinburgh Dinnshenchas.= Edited, Translated, and Annotated. 8vo.\n 1893. Nett 2s. 6d.\n\n\u2042 The Dinnshenchas is an eleventh-century collection of topographical\nlegends, and one of the most valuable and authentic memorials of\nIrish mythology and legend. These two publications give nearly\nthree-fourths of the collection as preserved in Irish MSS. The bulk of\nthe Dinnshenchas has never been published before, either in Irish or in\nEnglish.\n\n\nBY PROFESSOR KUNO MEYER.\n\n =Cath Finntraga.= Edited, with English Translation. Small 4to. 1885.\n xxii, 115 pp. 6s.\n\n =Merugud Ulix Maicc Leirtis.= The Irish Odyssey. Edited, with Notes,\n Translation, and a Glossary. 8vo. 1886. xii, 36 pp. Cloth. Printed on\n handmade paper, with wide margins. 3s.\n\n =The Vision of Mac Conglinne.= Irish Text, English Translation\n (Revision of Hennessy\u2019s), Notes and Literary Introduction. Crown 8vo.\n 1892. liv, 212 pp. Cloth. 10s. 6d.\n\n\u2042 One of the curious and interesting remains of medi\u00e6val Irish\nstory-telling. A most vigorous and spirited Rabelaisian tale, of equal\nvalue to the student of literature or Irish legend.\n\n\nBY ALFRED NUTT.\n\n =Studies on the Legend of the Holy Grail=, with Especial Reference to\n the Hypothesis of its Celtic Origin. Demy 8vo. xv, 281 pp. Cloth. 10s.\n 6d. net.\n\n\u2018Une des contributions les plus pr\u00e9cieuses et les plus m\u00e9ritoires qu\u2019on\nait encore apport\u00e9es \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9claircissement de ces questions difficiles et\ncompliqu\u00e9es.\u2019--Mons. Gaston Paris in _Romania_.\n\n\u2018These charming studies of the Grail legend.\u2019--_The Athen\u00e6um._\n\n\u2018An achievement of profound erudition and masterly argument, and\nmay be hailed as redeeming English scholarship from a long-standing\nreproach.\u2019--_The Scots Observer._\n\n =Celtic Myth and Saga.= Report upon the Literature connected with this\n subject. 1887\u20131 888. (_Arch\u00e6ological Review_, October, 1888.) 2s. 6d.\n\n =The Buddha\u2019s Alms-Dish and the Legend of the Holy Grail.=\n (_Arch\u00e6ological Review_, June, 1889). 2s. 6d.\n\n =Celtic Myth and Saga.= Report upon the Literature connected with\n these subjects, 1888\u20131 890. (_Folk Lore_, June, 1890). 3s. 6d.\n\n =Report upon the Campbell of Islay MSS.= in the Advocates\u2019 Library at\n Edinburgh. (_Folk-Lore_, September, 1890). 3s. 6d.\n\n =Review of Hennessey\u2019s Edition of Mesca Ulad.= (_Arch\u00e6ological\n Review_, May, 1889.) 2s. 6d.\n\n =Critical Notes on the Folk and Hero Tales of the Celts.= (_Celtic\n Magazine_, August to October, 1887). 5s.\n\n =Celtic Myth and Saga.= Report upon the Literature connected with\n these subjects. 1891\u20139 2. (_Folk-Lore_, 1891). 3s. 6d.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber\u2019s Note\n\n\nIn this file, text in _italics_ is indicated by underscores, and text\nin =bold= by equals signs.\n\nObvious printer\u2019s errors have been silently corrected; as far as\npossible, however, original spelling and formatting have been retained.\nNo corrections have been made to any Gaelic text as printed, with the\nsole exception of the third occurence of \u201cFire fire n\u00ec mi umad\u201d on\npage 145, which had been misprinted.\n\nIn the printed book, an unnumbered page containing an editor\u2019s note\nwas inserted between pages 34 and 35. In this file, the note has been\nindented, given the subheading \u201cEditor\u2019s Note\u201d, and moved directly\nafter the paragraph to which it seems to refer, on page 35.\n\nFootnotes were presented inconsistently in the printed book, sometimes\nappearing at the bottom of the page and sometimes at the ends of\nsections. In this book, all notes have been standardised and moved to\nthe end of the relevant section, sometimes alongside a \u201cNotes\u201d section\nwhich was already present.","title":"Clan Traditions and Popular Tales of the Western Highlands and Islands","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":53143}