Skip to main content

Full text of "Popular tales of the west Highlands"

See other formats 


Google 


This  is  a  digital  copy  of  a  book  that  was  preserved  for  generations  on  library  shelves  before  it  was  carefully  scanned  by  Google  as  part  of  a  project 

to  make  the  world's  books  discoverable  online. 

It  has  survived  long  enough  for  the  copyright  to  expire  and  the  book  to  enter  the  public  domain.  A  public  domain  book  is  one  that  was  never  subject 

to  copyright  or  whose  legal  copyright  term  has  expired.  Whether  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  may  vary  country  to  country.  Public  domain  books 

are  our  gateways  to  the  past,  representing  a  wealth  of  history,  culture  and  knowledge  that's  often  difficult  to  discover. 

Marks,  notations  and  other  maiginalia  present  in  the  original  volume  will  appear  in  this  file  -  a  reminder  of  this  book's  long  journey  from  the 

publisher  to  a  library  and  finally  to  you. 

Usage  guidelines 

Google  is  proud  to  partner  with  libraries  to  digitize  public  domain  materials  and  make  them  widely  accessible.  Public  domain  books  belong  to  the 
public  and  we  are  merely  their  custodians.  Nevertheless,  this  work  is  expensive,  so  in  order  to  keep  providing  tliis  resource,  we  liave  taken  steps  to 
prevent  abuse  by  commercial  parties,  including  placing  technical  restrictions  on  automated  querying. 
We  also  ask  that  you: 

+  Make  non-commercial  use  of  the  files  We  designed  Google  Book  Search  for  use  by  individuals,  and  we  request  that  you  use  these  files  for 
personal,  non-commercial  purposes. 

+  Refrain  fivm  automated  querying  Do  not  send  automated  queries  of  any  sort  to  Google's  system:  If  you  are  conducting  research  on  machine 
translation,  optical  character  recognition  or  other  areas  where  access  to  a  large  amount  of  text  is  helpful,  please  contact  us.  We  encourage  the 
use  of  public  domain  materials  for  these  purposes  and  may  be  able  to  help. 

+  Maintain  attributionTht  GoogXt  "watermark"  you  see  on  each  file  is  essential  for  in  forming  people  about  this  project  and  helping  them  find 
additional  materials  through  Google  Book  Search.  Please  do  not  remove  it. 

+  Keep  it  legal  Whatever  your  use,  remember  that  you  are  responsible  for  ensuring  that  what  you  are  doing  is  legal.  Do  not  assume  that  just 
because  we  believe  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  the  United  States,  that  the  work  is  also  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  other 
countries.  Whether  a  book  is  still  in  copyright  varies  from  country  to  country,  and  we  can't  offer  guidance  on  whether  any  specific  use  of 
any  specific  book  is  allowed.  Please  do  not  assume  that  a  book's  appearance  in  Google  Book  Search  means  it  can  be  used  in  any  manner 
anywhere  in  the  world.  Copyright  infringement  liabili^  can  be  quite  severe. 

About  Google  Book  Search 

Google's  mission  is  to  organize  the  world's  information  and  to  make  it  universally  accessible  and  useful.   Google  Book  Search  helps  readers 
discover  the  world's  books  while  helping  authors  and  publishers  reach  new  audiences.  You  can  search  through  the  full  text  of  this  book  on  the  web 

at|http: //books  .google  .com/I 


HARVARD 
COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 


POPULAR  TALES 


or 


THE  WEST 


PRINTED   BY   R.  ft  R.  CLARK 
EDMON8TON   AND   DOUGLAS,  EDINBURGH. 


LONDON    .     .  HAMILTON,  ADAMS,  ft  CO. 

CAMBRIDOI  .  MACMILLAN  ft  CO. 

DUBLIN      .     .  W.  R0BSRT80N. 

OLASOOW .     .  JAM18  MACL1H081. 


w 


POPULAB  TALES 


or 


THE  WEST  HIGHLANDS 


ORALLY  COLLECTED 


mii^  I  CmuIatioK 


By  J.  F.  CAMPBELL 


VOIfc  1. 


x^     // 


EDINBURGH: 
EDMONSTON  AND  DOUGLAa 

1860. 


•  (?a^ 


2-13.^^^.5. 1  CO 


Do 

Iain  Mao  Shborais 

Mac  Callen  Mor 

MAEQUESS   OF   LOENR 


Ut  Dbab  Lorrb, 

I  dedicate  this  collection  of  West  Country 
Stories  to  you  as  the  son  of  my  Chief,  in  the  hope  that  it 
may  add  to  the  interest  which  you  already  feel  in  a  people, 
of  whom  a  large  number  look  with  respect  on  '*  Mac  Callen 
Mor  "  as  the  head  of  their  tribe.  I  know  that  the  poorest 
Highlanders  still  feel  an  honest  pride  whenever  their  chiefs, 
or  men  of  their  name,  earn  distinction ;  and  many  of 
**  Clan  Dhiarmaid  "  take  a  warm  interest  in  you. 

Amidst  curious  rubbish  you  will  find  sound  sense  if 
you  look  for  it.  You  will  find  the  creed  of  the  people, 
as  shewn  in  their  stories,  to  be,  that  wisdom  and  courage, 
though  weak,  may  overcome  strength,  and  ignorance,  and 
pride :  that  the  most  despised  is  often  the  most  worthy  ; 
that  small  beginnings  lead  to  great  residts. 

You  will  find  perseverance,  frugality,  and  filial  piety 
rewarded  ;  pride,  greed,  and  laziness  punished.     You  will 


VI  DEDICATION. 

find  much  which  tells  of  barbarous  times ;  I  hope  you  will 
meet  nothing  that  can  hurt,  or  should  offend. 

If  you  follow  any  study,  even  that  of  a  popular  tale, 
far  enough,  it  will  lead  you  to  a  closed  door,  beyond 
which  you  cannot  pass  till  you  have  searched  and  found 
the  key,  and  every  study  will  lead  the  wisest  to  a  fast 
locked  door  at  last ;  but  knowledge  lies  beyond  these  doors, 
and  one  key  may  open  the  way  to  many  a  store  which  can 
be  reached,  and  may  be  turned  to  evil  or  to  good. 

That  you  may  go  on  acqiiiring  knowledge,  selecting 
the  good,  and  rejecting  the  evil ;  that  you,  like  Conal  in 
tho  story,  may  gather  gold,  and  escape  imharmcd  from  the 
giant's  land,  is  the  earnest  wish  of  your  affectionate 
kinsman, 

J.  F.  CMIPBELL. 

SBrrBMBBB  1860. 


CONTENTS. 


Vlll 


€X>NTBNT& 


NAMB. 


. 


,   I.  THE  TOUNG  KING  OP  BAS- 
^  AIDH  RUADH. 

Gaelic    

9.  The  Tale  of  the  Widow's  Son. 
Abstract 

Notes 

8.  An  Tuairisgeul  Mòr.    Abstract 
Notes  and  references 

II.  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BIRDS. 

Gaelic    

2.  The  Widow's  Son.    Abstract  ... 
a.  The  Wren.     Abstract  

4.  Reference 

5.  Reference 

6.  Abstract   \ 

7.  Dirsgeul.    Abstract   

8  Nighean  Dubh  Gheal  Dearg. 

Abstract 
Notes  and  references 

III.  THE  TALE  OP  THE  HOODIE 

Gaelic    

2.  Referred  to   

Notes  and  references  

IV.  THE  SEA-MAIDEN    

Gaelic    

2.  A  Mhalglidean  Mhara.  Abstract 

8.  Gille  Carrach  Dabh.  Abstract... 

4.  The  Smith's  Son.    Abstract 

5.  The  Fisher.    Reference 

6.  The  Grey  Lad.    Reference  

Notes  and  references  

v.  CONALL  CRA  BHUIDHE  

Gaelic    

VL  CONAL  CROVI 

Gaelic   

Vn.  THE  TALE  OP  CONNAL 

Gaelic   


Told  by 


James  Wilson,  blind  fiddler 

... 
John  Campbell,  sawyer 

... 
Donald  MacPhie,  crofter   ... 

•  •• 

John  Mackenzie,  fishennan 
... 

Ann  Darroch    

John  MacGlbbon,  stable  boy 

**  Old  Woman,"  pauper 

"Old  Man," 

Donald  MacCraw,  droyer,etc. 

John  Dewar,  labourer 

Roderick  Mackenzie,  sawyer 

•  •• 

Ann  MacGUvray 

John  Dewar 

John  Mackenzie,  fisherman 

Donald  MacPhie,  finherman 

John  MacGibbon,  farm  ser- 
vant, etc. 

B.  MacaskiU    

A.  MacNeill,  fisherman 

John  Smith,  labourer 

... 

James  Wilson,  blind  fiddler 

... 

Neill  Gillies,  fisherman  

Kenneth  MaoLennan 


00NTBNT8* 


IZ 


Dati. 


JoM  9, 1809 
JoM  a,  1860 

••• 
April  1809 

JBMÌSftO 

April  is,  1869 


••• 


8tpt  1,1859 

Oct  98, 1869 

jBl7l808 


April  1809 


April  1869 

Stpt.  9.'  1869 

■ad  1860 
April  18, 1869 

Aaff.1809 
Do. 


Ja]Ml869 

•  •  • 

lf«j97,1869 

•  •• 

Jbm  17, 1809 


Place. 


W*y,  ArgyU 


Stnth  Qalrioch,  Rom 


Sootli  Uiit.. 


Netr  Inrtnry 


IsUy  

InTtranr 

Dalmalfy  

SuthcrUiod 

Sooth  Ubt 

UleDdaniaiL  Argrll... 
Stnth  QftUoeb,  KMi 


lila^  

GlendtniAir 


Netr  Inrenrj 
SoiiUi  Uitt..V... 
IiiTvmry    


DornoFAjT   •< 

Bun 

SoathUlM.. 


liUy  

••• 

Netr  Inrertry 
Pool  Ewe  


CoLLMnroR. 


Hector  MtcLetn    ... 


Hector  Urqohart  ... 


Hector  MacLeen 


Hector  Urquhart  ... 

•  •• 

Hector  IftcLetn  ... 
J.F.C 


Page 


CD.&Scliooliiitetor 

J.  F.  a    

John  Dewar   

Hector  Urqnhmri  ... 


Hector  IfaoLean  .. 

... 
John  Dewar   


19 
18 

91 
11 


Hector  Urqohart  ... 

J.  P.  C.  "! 

J.F.a    


Hector  IfacLean  .. 
Do. 
Do. 


Do. 
Do. 

Hector  Urqohart  ... 


Hector  Urqohart  ... 


16 
88 
47 
48 
61 
61 
61 
61 
68 

60 

88 
67 
89 
89 

71 
84 
98 

97 

98 
100 
100 
101 

100 
116 

114 
136 

148 
148 


OONTRHTB. 


4.  UiKlean  Mor.     Abitiict 

0.  An  Okdiicbs  Doblu     Kvltni 
tloleainilTc'ersncea  

VIIL  HUBOHAG  A  'S  UIOHACIIAG 

Natea 

Oadlc  

IX.  THE  BROWN  BEAR  OF  THE 
OREEN  OLEN. 

OmIIc    

NoMi 

-  X.  THE  THREE  SOLDtEBS 

OmIIc  

9dTaniim 

3d    Do.     

4tb  Do 

Hotasttc 

Am  Bocbd  Bwgh  

XI.  THE  WHITE  PET 

OmIIo    

MotM,etc 


XIL  THE    DAOOHTEB    OF  THE 
SEIBS. 
OMlki    


HU17  Dunlon  

John  HMDooaldp  tnnllliic 


JuMt  HaoLacUu^  HTTu 

Hactor  kUekaule  

Hector  Boyil,  fi^ensui ... 
KuiDtth  Mackenzie    ...... 


XIII.  THB  QIBL  AKD  THE  DEAD 
UAN. 

OMila 


Hotel,  ate. 

XIT.  THE  KIKO  WHO  WISHED  TO 
&IARRY  HIS  DAUGHTER. 

SdMotigs'ChòuBhAÌii  ".'.'.'.'.'.'.'. 
SOUt,  reference!,  etc 


Ann  DuToch 

DmuU  HteCnw,  drorar  ... 
Fkm  Uacbtlyn 


OOMTBNTB. 


XI 


Dati. 

Do. 
Aag.l8M 

•  •• 

AprOlSM 


•  •• 


HftjrlSM 


July  ISfiO 
JontlSM 

JoMlSOO 

Not.  1809 


iUjlW9 


Do. 


Do. 
8tpt"]809 


•  •• 

•  •• 


Placb. 

InTorttdalfl^  Bom 

Bam 

.*• 

llanjr  districtt 

•  •• 

•  •• 

No  wbflra  in  pcrtlealar  ... 

•  •• 

•  •• 

liUy  

DiMg,  Qairioch 

CaatloUay,  Barrm 

Boot-ohiro 

•  •• 

lilay  

Port  EUcD,  ItUj 

•  •• 

•  •  • 

ItUj  

•  •• 
«•• 

Itby  

•  •  • 

•  •  • 

liUy  

North  Ulrt..V.'. 

•  a  • 

Itbj  

•  •• 

•  •• 


COLLBCrOR. 


Ifr.  T.  CAiDoroo < 

Hector  IfacLMn   ... 


Hector  MicLeen   ... 


•  •• 


Hector  Urqahmrt  ... 


Hector  MacLcan  ... 


Angoi  MacRae 

Hector  MacLean  ... 
Hector  Urqahart  ... 

Hector  MacLean   ... 

lira.  MacTavith    ... 


••• 
•  •• 


Hector  MacLean  ... 

••• 
•  •• 

Do. 


Do. 


J.  F.a 


Hector  MacLean 


Page 


162 
163 
168 

167 
100 
161 

164 

170 
174 

170 
188 
188 
189 
191 
191 
192 

194 
197 
190 

202 

208 
211 

218 

216 
217 

219 

322 

226 
226 

280 

288 

286 


xu 


00NTKNT8. 


J 


NAHB. 

TOLOBT 

XVL  THE  KING  OP  LOCHLANN*S 
THRBB  DAUGHTBRa 
Gaelie   

Neill  Gfllles,  fkahermaii 

••• 
••• 

Ann  MacGilTraT 

NotaSi  etc 

XVn.  MAOL  A  CHLIOBAIN  

Gaelic  

... 
Flora  Maclntvre 

3d   

8d  Maol  a  Bhoibean  

Mary,  a  nurfemaid  * <. 

4th  Maiil  a  Mhoibean     

John  Orawfort,  fishennan  ... 
Varlonf  eonroM  ....>.>. a...... 

XTIIo.  FABLES,  etc 

XVm.  BAILLIE  LUllNAIN   

-    XVIIc.  THE     SLIM     SWARTHY 
CHAMPION. 
Gaelic   

f  John  Mackenxie 

1  Donald  Macintrre  

James  Wilton,  blind.fiddler 

... 
John  Campbell,  crofter 

fj.  Dewarand  

SdYeraicn  

""    JLVlici*  A aJSt  Dmr  1 1  IjAa^ 

Gaelic  -..:.... 

V*  Macnair,  shoemaker  ... 

•  •• 

<X>IITIMT8i 


xm 


Dm. 


Majtl,ì»ò9 


Infviij 


April  1869 

JoM  ì^  1869 

April  «k  1809 

M.  11 1890 

1809  and  1890 

Am.1809,1890 
1899 

1969 


1869 

jMtl860. 

••• 

••• 


KilflMBX,  lakjr. 
••• 
Do. 

Imrvrarj    

Anroefaar  • 


OoSAMOIOtL 


BtBlM       ' 

lalAjr 


Do. 

.•• 

Do. 

J.  P.C.   

John  Dowar 


Page 


J.F.C.  > 

Mr.  Donald  Torrio j 


StnlhGoarioeh 


Arroohar  ••< 

Clachalg^  Dnnoon 


::::::} 


Hector  Maclean. 


A  SchoolmatCer. 


J.  Dewar. 


S86 

248 
849 

861 
866 
360 
990 
990 

867 
881 


800 
808 

880 
888 


ERRATi^ 

U 

• 

VOLl  I. 

M^rxrì, 

ttiM    S,  /br  Ardinftdd j.              rmd  liochiiiaddy. 

lUl, 

..    18, 

..  lUcubaiii, 

■  • 

UàcàbaiìL 

hr, 

..     1. 

..  Phjrnodflene. 
. .  Jolin  lùel*hte. 

•  • 

Phjnodderve. 

^miin, 

llnnald  MThfe. 

M*  9Ò, 

80, 

• .  nOMl, 

t  • 

wlng. 

..    IM, 

...  to, 

..  Decaun«roii, 

Dceamoron. 

..    165, 

*     94 

..  WArwiM, 

1  • 

Wonuute. 

..  toi. 

..       », 

..  MlUs, 

•  • 

MIU. 

..  tis, 

..    81, 

..  Bmatb, 

(fj  SoioH.  II  blteh  (Ròiw- 
thlre,  eto.) 

..  m. 

..    8», 

..  btUwl, 

■  • 

with  Inmpe  of  tangled  half 
ami  mnd  dahgling  about 

hlOL 

..    186, 

..    84. 

1 

• 

(                    > 

..  m. 

..      1. 

. .  Ard  lui  n  Uamha, 

Ard  na  h  Uamh. 

..  tm. 

..    11. 

. .  Aird  na  n  Uamha, 

Ard  na  h  Uamh. 

..    M8. 

..    11. 

..  oormlch. 

oorralch. 

..    «H, 

..    1», 

..  donuwl. 

doruad. 

..    M8, 

..    16.' 

. .  oorrafch. 

cormlch. 

..    SIO, 

..      1. 

Iarlb. 

..  aie. 

..5Jk6. 

..  triol. 

trid. 

..    «17. 

..    81, 

..  dalcn. 

duine. 

..    S18, 

..    15, 

..  bidlllclM 

calllichi^. 

..    118. 

..    86, 

..  eealkOdc 

eeallaldh. 

81». 

..    16, 

•  • 

VOI*  II. 

ba  learn  aa  an  dama  leith  'n. 

^   85, 

..      68. 

liiM    1,  fvr  Aidaan,                   n 
8.  . .  OMord. 

admArdAn. 
Oignod. 

..      77. 

..    16, 

..  onuiin. 

olmain. 

..    106. 

1, 

. .  sftinr-in-Uiw. 

aon -In-law. 

..    10». 

.      1. 

..  nofti. 

naoi. 

..    10». 

..    1». 

..  beitto. 

keUle. 

..    10». 

..    86. 

..  Sterling, 

Btlrilng. 

..    110, 

1»,  186, 

and 

|NI«Ì». 

. .  Then  Tnngafti,  mid 
other  reiuliiMBi 

Ken  Tangval,  ho  imi- 
noanced.— J.  K.  C. 

..    1«, 

1<n€  83. 

..  bhà  ft' hhath. 

bhA  'a  a'  bhAth. 

..    IM. 

..    11. 

..  thelee 

aheinae. 

..    ISO, 

..      4. 

. .  Anderson. 

Anderaen. 

..    157. 

..    11. 

..  ftbin, 

ainm. 

..    181. 

..    w, 

*. 

..    168, 

I. 

..  Alrt, 

Càlrt. 

..     166, 

7, 

"g. 

agiis. 

.     l»o. 

..    35. 

..  mHiinle, 

mrdtiMT. 

..    l»l. 

..     11. 

..  Klrtal, 

Mifdal. 

11 


KRRATA. 


No.  XXXVIII.  For  Um  GmIIo  ap«lUng  of  tha  Mtniea,  lee  tli«  Ghieltc  whioU 

follows. 
No.  XXXVIIT, 


(fNiMim) 

for  Almighty, 

rMd  All  ttip  powert.  (MaoLaan.) 

Page  SOS, 

*        ..  hardy  caatlM, 

..    (ùneial  cara,  oaail  erodha, 
canlagea   of   a   peculiar 
form.  ua«d  of  old  fbr  cany- 
Ing  the  dead.   (Dewar.) 

..    SIS, 

S8,  ..  ftaar. 

..    fear. 

..    SIS, 

0,  ..  mairde. 

..    mairae. 

..    S1&, 

..    88,  ..  BibearU, 

«Maiu  "  a  great  rock "  where  the 

waveadaahfnfoam.  (Mac- 
Leaii> 
No.  XXXIX  Borne  of  the  Gaelic  in  thia  tale  la  ao  apelt  aa  to  imlUte  the 

rer'a  accent, 
raeul  oholgeaL 
..    Sgaile. 
..   niage-beatha. 
..   Thobh. 
Na  XLIÌI.  I  have  a  much  longer  and  more  eomplete  yeraion  of  thia. 
FageSOS,   line    S, /or  John  MacPhie,        fwui  Donald. 
8S,  ..  S0to4.  ..    S0to6. 

Thia  Gaelic  la  aomewhat  phonetic 
1.  rong  fri  The  aeven  brown  atara^RiGiniAaAN. 
rival 


Sfl6, 
SIS, 
866, 
870, 
StfO, 
40S, 
408, 
416, 
448. 
460, 
466, 


84, /or  I  Vèdu  1 118, 

SO,  ..  itmuaaurua, 

18,  ..  a  yard, 

SS,  ..  Jama, 

SO,  ..  too, 

16,  ..  went, 

S7,  ..  had, 

88,  ..  Orftih, 


mui  Daxlalua. 

. .  guteami  it. 

..  a  rod. 

. .  Jawa. 

..  ta 

..  bent 

..  hard. 

..  Cruth. 


INTRODUCTION. 


THB  FAIRT-BOO,  AND  WHAT  OAMl  OUT  OF  IT. 

Oh  the  stonDj  coasts  of  the  Hebrides,  amongst  sea- 
weed and  shells,  fishermen  and  kelp-burners  often  find 
certain  hard  light  floating  objects,  somewhat  like  flat 
chesnnts,  of  yarions  colours — grey,  black,  and  brown, 
which  thej  call  sea-nuts,  strand-nuts,  and  faiiy-eggs. 
Where  they  are  most  common,  they  are  used  as  snuff- 
boxes, but  they  are  also  worn  and  preserved  as  amulets, 
with  a  firm  or  sceptical  belief  in  their  mysterious 
▼irtues.  Old  Martin,  who  wrote  of  the  Western  Isles 
in  1703,  calls  them  ^  Molluka  beans,**  and  tells  how 
they  were  then  found,  and  worn,  and  used  as  medicine ; 
how  they  pteeerred  men  from  the  evil  eye,  and  cured 
sick  cattle  by  a  process  as  incomprehensible  as  mes- 
merisBL  Practical  Highlandmen  of  the  present  day 
call  the  nuts  trash,  and  brand  those  who  wear  them, 
like  their  ancestors  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  as 
ignorant  and  superstitious ;  but  learned  botanists,  too 
wise  to  overlook  trifles,  set  themselves  to  study  even 
fairy-eggs ;  and  believing  them  to  be  West  Indian 
seeds,*  stranded  in  Europe,  they  planted  them,  and 
some  (from  the  An>res)  grew.     Philosophers,  having 

*  Mmoitt  ietrndtm,  great  pod-creeper.    Mmama  wrm$. 

a 


X  INTBODUOnOK. 

dÌBOoyeied  what  they  were,  use  fhem  to  demonstrate 
the  existence  of  tlie  Gulf  Stream,  and  it  is  even  said 
that  they  formed  a  part  of  one  link  in  that  chain  of 
reasoning  which  led  Columbus  to  the  New  World. 

So  within  this  century,  men  hare  gathered  nursery 
tales.  They  set  themselves  earnestly  to  learn  all  that 
they  could  concerning  them ;  they  found  similar  tales 
common  to  many  languages ;  they  traced  them  back  for 
centuries ;  they  planted  them  in  books,  and  at  last  the 
Brothers  Orimm,  their  predecessors,  and  their  followers, 
haye  raised  up  a  pastime  for  children  to  be  "a  study  fit 
for  the  energies  of  grown  men  and  to  all  the  dignity  of 
a  science." 

So  at  least  says  the  learned  author  of  the  transla- 
tion of  *'  Norse  Tales,"  and  there  are  many  who  agree 
with  him. 

Men  have  now  collected  stories  from  most  parts  of 
the  world.  They  have  taken  them  from  the  dictation  of 
American  Indians,  South  Soa  Islanders^  Lapps  and 
Samoydes,  Germans  and  Ilussian&  MÌBsionarìes  have 
published  the  fables  of  African  savages ;  learned  men 
liave  translated  Arabic,  Sanscrit^  and  Chinese  manu- 
scripts ;  even  i^ptian  papyri  have  been  dug  up,  and 
forced  to  yield  tlieir  meaning,  and  all  alike  have  fur- 
nished tales,  very  similar  to  stories  now  told  by  word 
of  moutL  But  as  some  of  these  are  common  to  races 
whose  languages  have  been  traced  to  a  common  origin, 
it  is  now  held  that  nursery  stories  and  popular  tales 
have  been  handed  down  together  with  the  koiguages  in 
which  they  are  told ;  and  they  are  used  in  striving  to 
trace  out  the  origin  of  races,  as  philologists  use  words 
to  trace  language,  as  geologists  class  rocks  by  the  shells 
and  bones  which  they  contain,  and  as  natural  philoso- 
phers used  fairy-eggs  in  tracing  the  Gulf  Stream. 

The  following  collection  is  intended  to  be  a  contri- 


IHTBODUOnON.  XI 

bation  to  this  new  sdenoe  of  "  Btoiyology.**  It  is  a 
mufleam  of  curiotis  rabbiah  about  to  perish,  giyen  as 
it  was  gathered  in  the  lon^,  for  it  seemed  to  me  as 
barbarous  to  "  polish  **  a  genuine  popular  tale,  as  it 
would  be  to  adorn  the  bones  of  a  Megatherium  with  / 
tinsel,  or  gild  a  rare  old  copper  coin.  On  this,  how- 
eyer,  opinions  yary,  but  I  hold  my  own  that^  stories 
orally  collected  can  only  be  yaluable  if  giyen  unaltered ; 
where  is  the  model  story  to  be  found  t 

men  may  despise  the  tales,  earnest  men 
condemn  them  as  lieS|  some  eyen  consider  tiiom 
wicked ;  one  refused  to  write  any  more  for  a  whole 
estate ;  my  best  friend  says  they  are  all  "blethers.** 
But  one  man's  rubbish  may  be  another's  treasure,  and 
what  is  the  standard  of  yalue  in  such  a  pursuit  as  tlust 

^  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  them  stories, 
Mr.  Camal  T  said  a  friend  of  mine,  as  he  stood  amongst 
the  brown  sea-weed,  at  the  end  of  a  pier,  on  a  fine 
summer^s  eyening,  and  watched  my  departure  in  a  tiny 
boat 

"  Print  them,  man,  to  bo  sure." 

My  friend  is  famous  for  his  good  stories,  though 
they  are  of  another  kind,  and  he  uses  tobacco ;  he 
eyed  me  steadily  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  disposed 
of  the  whole  matter  monosyllabically,  but  forcibly, 

"  Huch  1 1- 

It  seemed  to  come  from  his  heart 

Said  a  Highland  coachman  to  me  one  day,  *'  The 
luggage  is  yery  heayy.  I  will  not  belieye  but  there  is 
stones  in  the  portmanteaus  1  They  will  be  pickin'  them 
up  off  the  rod,  and  takin'  them  away  with  them ;  I 
haye  seen  them  myself;"  and  then,  haying  disposed 
of  geology,  he  took  a  sapient  pinch  of  snufil 

So  a  benighted  Englishman,  years  ago  in  Australia, 
took  up  his  quarters  in  a  settler's  hut^  as  he  told  me. 


XU  niTBODUOTION. 

Other  travellera  came  in,  and  one  had  found  a  atone  in 
a  dry  riYei^x>aise  which  he  maintained  to  be  partly  gold. 
Hie  rest  jeered  at  him  till  he  threw  away  his  prise  in 
a  pet ;  and  then  they  all  devoored  mutton  chops  and 
damper,  and  slept  like  sensible  men. 

So  these  tales  may  be  gold  or  dross  according  to 
taste.  Many  will  despise  them,  but  some  may  take 
an  interest  in  the  pastime  of  their  humble  countiy- 
men;  some  maybe  amused;  those  who  would  learn 
Gaelic  will  find  the  language  of  the  people  who  told 
the  stories;  and  those  who  would  compare  popular 
tales  of  different  races,  may  rest  assured  that  I  have 
altered  nothing ;  that  these  really  are  what  they  pur- 
port to  be — stories  orally  collected  in  the  West  High- 
J  lands  since  the  beginning  of  1859.  I  have  but 
carried  drift  rubbish  from  the  place  where  I  found  it 
to  a  place  where  it  may  be  seen  and  studied  by  those 
who  care  to  take  the  trouble. 

The  resemblance  which  the  collection  bears  to 
others  already  made,  is  a  strong  argument  for  the  com- 
mon origin  of  the  stories,  and  of  the  people  who  tell 
them.  But^  as  a  foundation  for  argument^  I  am  bound 
to  give  the  evidence  on  which  I  have  formed  my  be- 
lief in  their  antiquity,  for  the  stories  would  be  rubbish 
indeed  if  they  were  not  genuine  traditions. 

This  is  the  account  given  by  Mr.  Hector  MacLean, 
parish  schoolmaster  at  Ballygrant  in  Islay,  whom  I 
have  known  from  his  boyhood,  and  who^  at  my  request, 
collected  stories  last  summer  in  the  Long  Island : — 

'*Iii  the  IsUndi  of  Bura,  the  reciiation  of  tales  daring  the 
long  winter  nighte  is  lUU  veiy  common.  The  people  gather  in 
orowds  to  the  houses  of  those  whom  they  consider  good  reciters 
to  listen  to  their  stories.  They  appear  to  he  fondest  of  those 
tales  which  describe  exceedingly  rapid  changes  of  place  in  veiy 
short  portions  of  time,  and  have  eridently  no  respect  for  tho 


umtoDUonoN.  xiu 

OBÌtÌM.  Dnriog  the  reeiUtioD  of  these  telet,  the  emetions  of  the 
reoiten  are  ooeedonaUy  veiy  itnmgly  excited,  and  io  alio  are 
Ihoee  of  the  lietenen,  almoet  ihedding  tears  at  one  time,  and 
gÌTÌBg  way  to  loud  laughter  at  another.  A  good  many  of  them 
irmlj  beUere  in  all  the  extraTaganoe  of  these  stories. 

**  Thej  speak  of  the  Osdaiiio  heroes  with  as  mnch  feeling, 
sympathj,  and  belief  in  their  ezistenoe  and  reality  as  the  readers 
of  the  newspapers  do  of  the  exploits  of  the  British  army  in  the 
Crimea  or  in  India ;  and  whaterer  be  the  extrayagance  of  the 
legends  they  redte  respecting  them,  it  is  exceedingly  remarfcable 
thai  the  same  charaoter  is  always  ascribed  to  the  same  hero  in 
afaneei  OTsry  story  and  by  almost  e?ery  reciter.  Fingal,  or  rather 
Fiona,  b  nofor  called  the  king  of  any  oonntry  or  territory,  bnt 
the  king  of  the  Finn,  a  body  of  men,  who  were  raised,  according 
to  the  traditions  current  in  the  Long  Island  and  other  parts  of 
the  Highlands,  in  Ireland  and  in  the  Highlands,  to  defend  both 
oonntries  against  foreign  inTsders,  more  especially  against  the 
ScandinaTÌans.  The  origin  these  illtterate  people  assign  to 
them,  according  to  the  traditions  handed  down  to  tbem,  is, 
that  the  largest  and  strongest  bodied  yoong  men  and  women 
were  selected  and  married  together  in  order  to  prodoce  a 
braTe  and  powerful  race  capable  of  withstanding  and  repelling 
the  inenrsions  of  foreign  foes.  Any  hero  that  came  west,  east, 
north,  or  sooth,  and  *  Gothrom  na  Finns '  (the  chance  of  the 
FInne),  b  the  term  still  nsed  for  fair-play  in  the  Highlands. 

**  In  no  tale  or  tradition  related  to  me  regarding  these  heroes 
hare  I  heard  the  name,  *  Bigh  Mhdr-bheinn,'  (king  of  Morren) 
aaeribed  to  Fiona ;  nor  haTe  I  beard  him  described  as  the  king 
of  any  territory  or  oonntry — always  '  Bigh  na  Finns  or  Fcinne.* 
Fitfnn  or  Finn  b  tbe  phiral  of  Plann,  which  is  probably  de- 
rired  from  Fladh  dbnine ;  either  a  wild  man  from  hb  strength 
and  braTsry,  or  else  the  man  of  deer,  from  their  maintaining 
themselYos  by  bunting  deer,  exiensiTe  tracts  of  land  being 
allotted  to  them  lor  that  purpose.  This  last  stymology  I  bslioYe 
myself  to  be  the  correct  one. 

''The  most  of  tbe  peopb  in  Barra  and  South  Ulst  are  Boman 
GathoKcs,  can  neither  read  nor  write,  and  hardly  know  any 
English.  From  theee  circumstances  it  is  extremely  improbable 
thai  they  have  borrowed  mnch  from  the  literature  of  other 


XIY  INTBODUOnON. 

DAtioni.  In  North  Uifi  and  Harrii  theie  talat  are  nearlj  gone, 
and  thii,  I  belieTO,  to  be  owing  partly  to  reading,  whidi  in  a 
manner  snppliea  a  inbititate  for  them,  partly  to  bigoted  reli- 
gioai  ideas,  and  partly  to  narrow  utilitarian  Tiewi." 

ThÌB  clear  statement  is  accompanied  by  a  descrip- 
tion of  each  of  the  men  who  contributed,  from  which 
it  appears  in  detail  that  the  greater  number  speak 
Gaelic  only,  that  many  of  them  can  neither  read  nor 
write,  and  that  they  are  clever  though  uneducated; 
and  this  account  I  know  to  be  correct  in  some 
cases,  from  my  own  personal  knowledge  of  the  men. 
Hector  Urquhart»  now  gamekeeper  at  Ardkinglas, 
whom  I  have  known  for  many  years,  agrees  with 
MacLean  in  his  account  of  the  telling  of  these  stories 
in  other  districts  in  former  times. 

This  is  his  account — 

"  In  my  nati?e  plaoe,  Pool-Ewo,  Itoat-shire,  when  I  wai  a 
boy,  it  waa  the  castom  for  the  young  to  asiemble  together  on  the 
long  winter  nights  to  hear  the  old  people  recite  the  tales  or 
sgenlaohd,  which  they  had  learned  from  their  fathers  before  them. 
In  these  days  tailors  and  shoemakers  went  from  house  to  house, 
making  our  clothes  and  shoes.  When  one  of  them  came  to  the  village 
we  were  greatly  delighted,  whilst  getting  new  kilts  at  the  same 
time.  I  knew  an  old  tailor  who  used  to  tell  a  new  tale  every 
night  during  his  stay  in  the  village ;  and  another,  an  old  shoe- 
maker, who,  with  his  large  stock  of  stories  about  ghosts  and 
fairies,  used  to  frighten  us  so  much  that  we  scarcely  dared  pass 
the  neighbouring  churchyard  on  our  way  home.  It  was  also  the 
custom  when  an  aoidk,  or  stranger,  celebrated  for  his  store  of 
tales,  came  on  a  visit  to  the  village,  for  us,  young  and  old,  to 
make  a  rush  to  the  house  where  he  passed  the  night,  and  choose 
our  seats,  some  on  beds,  some  on  forms,  and  others  on  three-legged 
stools,  eto.,  and  listen  in  silence  to  the  new  tales ;  just  as  I  have 
myself  seen  since,  when  a  far-famed  aotor  came  to  perform  in  the 
Glasgow  theatre.  The  goodman  of  the  house  usually  opened  with 
the  tale  of  Famhair  Mot  (great  giant)  or  some  other  favourite 
tale,  and  then  the  stranger  carried  on  after  that.    It  was  a  com- 


IMTBODUCnON.  XY 

M^TÌngi '  The  fint  tale  by  the  goodman,  and  talef  to  dajlight 
by  the  aotd%,*  or  gaett.  It  waa  alao  the  custom  to  pat  riddlei, 
in  the  folnng  of  which  all  in  the  house  had  to  tax  their  ingenuity. 
If  one  of  the  party  pat  a  riddle  which  was  not  soWed  that  night, 
he  went  home  with  the  title  of  King  of  Riddles.  Beddet 
this,  there  was  nsnally  in  snch  gatherings  a  discussion  about 
the  Fmnt  which  comes  from  FumrAJon,  giant ;  the  Fiantaibh 
were  a  body  of  men  who  Tolunteered  to  defend  their  countiy  from 
the  iaTasioos  and  inroads  of  the  Danes  and  Norwegians,  or  Lock' 
KmmieL  Fimra,  who  was  always  called  King  of  the  Fein,  was  the 
strongest  man  amongst  them,  and  no  person  was  admitted  into 
the  company  who  was  less  in  height  than  he,  howoTer  much  taller. 
I  remember  the  old  black  shoemaker  telling  us  one  night  that 
Vwwm  had  a  tooth  which  he  consulted  as  an  oracle  upon  all 
important  occasions.  He  had  but  to  touch  this  tooth,  and  whal- 
e?er  he  wanted  to  know  was  at  once  reTealed  to  him. 

'*  The  abo?e  is  all  I  can  at  present  readily  call  to  mind  of  the  way 
in  which  the  ofenings  were  spent  in  the  Highlands  thirty  or  for^ 
years  ago.  The  minister  came  to  the  Tillage  in  1 830,  and  the  school- 
master soon  followed,  who  put  a  stop  in  our  Tillage  to  such  gather- 
ings ;  and  in  their  place  we  were  supplied  with  heaTÌer  tasks  than 
listening  to  the  old  shoemaker's  fkiry  tales.  From  that  period  till 
I  conacted  the  few  in  this  collection,  I  haTO  not  hoard  a  tale  re- 
cited. On  going  to  Tisit  my  friends  last  summer  I  expected  that 
I  wonld  get  some  old  tales  among  them,  but  I  found  that  the 
moot  of  the  old  men  who  used  to  relate  them  in  my  young  days 
had  died,  and  the  few  who  were  then  alÌTc  of  them  were  so  old 
that  they  had  lost  their  memories,  so  that  I  only  got  but  a  trifle  to 
what  I  expected.  Haoron  UiQUBAnr. 

1860. 


John  Dewar,  a  laboureri  whom  I  never  aaw,  bat 
who  has  written  and  aent  me  many  stories,  agrees  with 
the  others.  These  men  have  never  met,  and  hays 
acted  independently ;  and  yet,  in  many  cases,  I  hays 
reoetTed  Yersions  of  the  same  story  from  each  and  from 
other  soorces,  and  I  have  myself  heard  the  same  inci- 
dents repeated  by  their  authorities,  and   by  others 


XVI  HfTBODUOnON. 

whom  they  liad  never  seen ;  sometimee  even  the  very 
woidft. 

The  name  of  eyery  narrator  is  given  with  his  stoiy, 
and  I  am  satÌBfied  on  direct  evidence  that  most  of  theee 
were  known  in  the  Highlands  at  least  forty  years 
ago.  Now,  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  know  as 
little  of  the  subject  as  I  did,  let  me  give  the  theoiy  of 
the  distribution  of  popular  talea^  as  I  have  gathered  it 
from  the  able  introduction  to  the  Norse  Tales  and  other 
sources,  and  then  let  me  point  out  the  bearing  of  this 
collection  on  that  theoiy. 

It  is  supposed  that  the  races  known  as  Indo- 
European  came  from  Central  Asia  at  some  veiy  early 
period,  and  passed  over  Europe,  separating  and  settling 
down  as  nations ;  retaining  words  of  their  original  lan- 
guage, and  leaving  the  traces  of  their  religion  and 
history  everywhere  as  popular  tales ;  and  that  they 
found  the  land  occupied.  Each  wave,  it  is  said, 
"  pushed  onwards  those  who  went  before,"  but,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  each  in  turn  must  have  stopped  as  it 
arrived  at  the  great  sea,  and  there  the  waves  of  this 
stream  of  men  must  have  mingled  and  stagnated. 

As  the  flotson  and  jetsam  of  American  rivers 
and  of  the  Gulf  Stream  is  constantly  drifting  north- 
wards and  eastwards,  and  finds  a  resting-place  on  some 
western  shore,  so  the  traces  of  the  great  human  stream, 
which  is  supposed  to  have  flowed  westwards,  should  be 
found  in  greatest  abundance  stranded  at  the  western 
sea.  If  this  be  correct,  and  if  the  plains  of  Arìs  sent 
migratory  hordes  eastwards  as  well  as  westwards,  the 
tales  and  languages  of  the  far  East  and  West  should 
most  resemble  each  other,  and  should  also  resemble 
more  than  others  the  oldest  forms  of  the  myths  and 
languages  of  those  from  whom  they  sprang.  Brittany, 
Scandinavia,  Ireland,  and  the  west  of  Scotland,  from 


mTBODUOnON.  XYU 

their  geographical  poeition,  should  oontain  more  of  thia 
light  mental  delnri$  than  Central  Europe;  for  the 
same  reason  that  moie  of  the  floating  rabbiah  of 
American  riyera  is  fonnd  on  the  ahorea  of  Europe  than 
anywheie  on  the  great  ocean ;  and  if  mankind  had  a 
common  origin,  and  atarted  from  the  plains  of  Asia» 
and  if  popular  tales  really  are  old  traditions,  then 
the  tales  of  Geybn  should  resemble  those  of  fiarra,  and 
thoae  of  Japan  should  resemble  the  others,  because 
men  travelling  eastwards  and  arrived  at  Japan,  could 
not  easily  advance  farther.  Mr.  Oliphant  tdls  us  that 
both  in  China  and  in  Japan  groups  are  commonly  seen 
listening  to  professional  story-tellers  in  the  streets,  and 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  some  one  will  enable  us  to  judge  of 
their  talffltSt 

Be  that  as  it  may,  fairy-eggs  are  not  the  only 
foreign  products  found  on  the  shores  of  the  Hebrides, 
and  the  people  who  dwell  there  know  stories  of  larger 
growth  than  mere  nursery  talea.  Great  logs  of  drift- 
wood find  their  way  to  shore,  and  are  turned  to  usa 
Such  a  log  I  once  found,  and  used  myself,  long 
aga  It  waa  half  buried  in  the  sand;  it  had  been 
long  tossed  by  the  sea,  and  battered  against  rocks, 
for  it  waa  heavy  with  water,  splintered  and  ground. 
No  tree  like  it  grew  anywhere  near.  There  was  no 
mark  of  a  tool  on  ii  The  stumps  of  its  roots  and 
branehea  remained,  and  it  seemed  as  if  it  had  been 
torn  up  and  wafted  to  its  resting-place  by  winds  and 
wavea  alona  I  have  now  no  doubt  that  it  came  from 
America.  Had  it  been  insignificant,  and  useless,  like  a 
&iry-egg,  we  might  have  left  it,  or  preserved  it  as  a 
curiosity ;  but  it  was  a  useful  log,  and  we  were  a  party 
of  chilled  otter  hunters,  so,  after  a  few  speculations,  we 
hoisted  the  prize  on  our  shoulders,  carried  it  to  our 
dwellings  a  neighbouring  cave,  and  there  we  burned  ii 


XYUl  mTBODUOnON. 

I  see  it  often,  hissing  and  sputtering,  and  lighting  up 
the  bivouac  witli  its  led  glare.  Its  ashes  may  be  there 
still,  but  that  tree  is  a  tree  no  longer ;  its  origin  and 

.  wanderings  cannot  now  b&  traced ;  it  has  shared  the 
j^  fate  of  many  a  popular  tale.     It  was  found  and  used 
up. 

Such  a  log  I  lately  saw  in  South  XJist  No  tool 
mark  was  on  it;  it  had  lost  its  own  foliage,  but  it  was 
coTored  with  a  brown  and  white  marine  foliage  of  sea- 
weed and  dead  barnacles,  and  it  was  drilled  in  all 
directions  by  these  curious  sea-shells,  which  are  sup- 
posed by  the  people  to  be  embryo  geesa  It  was 
sound,  though  battered,  and  a  worthy  Celtic  smith  was 
about  to  add  it  to  the  roof  of  a  cottage,  which  he  was 
making  of  boulders  and  turf.  It  was  about  to  share 
tlie  fate  of  many  popular  tales,  and  become  a  part  of 
something  else.  It  may  be  recognized  as  an  American 
production  hereafter,  and  its  history  is  deeply  marked 
on  it,  though  it  forms  part  of  a  house  by  this  time. 
So  a  genuine  popular  tale  may  be  recognized  in  a  play 

.  or  a  romance. 

Another  such  tree  I  saw  in  Benbecula,  with  bark 
still  on  the  roots,  and  close  to  it  lay  a  squared  log, 
and  near  tliat  a  mast  with  white  paint  and  iron  bind- 
ings, blocks  and  crosstrocs,  still  attached  to  ii  A 
few  miles  off  was  a  strandoil  ship,  with  her  cargo 
and  fittings,  a  wreck  about  to  be  sold,  and  turned  to 
any  use  that  the  new  owners  might  think  fit  All 
these  were  about  to  be  changed,  and  as  it  is  with  drift- 
wood in  the  Highlands,  so,  as  I  imagine,  it  has  been 
with  popular  tales  everywhere.  They  are  as  old  as 
the  races  who  tell  them,  but  the  original  ideas,  like 
the  trees  from  which  logs,  masts,  and  ships  are  made, 
have  been  broken  up,  cut^  carved,  and  ornamented — 
lost  and  found — wrecked,  destroyed,  broken,  and  put 


INTBODUCmON. 

together  again ;  and,  though  the  original  shape  is  hard 
to  find,  the  fragments  may  be  recognized  in  books,  and 
whereyer  else  they  may  now  be  found. 

Bat  as  there  are  quiet  spots  in  the  world  where 
drifV-wood  accumulates  undisturbed,  so  there  are  quiet 
spots  where  popular  tales  flourish  in  peace,  because  no 
man  has  interfered  with  them.  In  Spitsbergen,  accord- 
ing to  the  accounts  given  me  by  Norwegian  bear 
hunters,  and  adventurous  English  nobles,  trees,  such  as 
those  occasionaUy  found  in  Scotland,  are  piled  in  heaps. 
Trees,  logs,  broken  spars,  and  wreck,  gather  and  bleach 
and  decay  together,  because  there  are  no  men  on  that 
wild  shore  to  use  them.  So  in  the  islands  where  the 
western  "  wanderers,"  **  Albanich,"  settled  down,  and 
where  they  have  remained  for  centuries,  old  men  and 
women  are  still  found  who  haye  hardly  stirred  from 
their  native  islands,  who  speak  only  Gaelic,  and  cannot 
read  or  write,  and  yet  their  minds  are  fiUed  with  a 
mass  of  popular  lore,  as  various  as  the  wreck  piled  on 
the  shores  of  Spitsbergen.  If  such  as  these  get  hold 
of  the  contents  of  a  story  book,  they  seem  unconsciously 
to  extract  the  incidents,  and  r€(ject  àU  the  rest, — to  select 
the  true  wood,  and  throw  away  foreign  ornament,  just 
as  they  chip  off  the  paint  of  a  stranded  mast,  or  scrape 
the  sea-weed  off  a  log  when  they  build  it  into  a  roo£ 
I  have  given  one  specimen  of  a  story,  which  I  believe 
to  be  derived  from  the  "  Arabian  Nights,**  though  it  is 
quite  impossible  that  the  man  who  told  it  to  Hector 
Mar.T^^an,  and  who  told  it  to  me  also,  in  nearly  the 
same  words,  can  have  got  it  directly  from  any  book ; 
for  he  cannot  read  at  all,  and  he  does  not  understand 
English. 

I  have  found  very  little  notice  of  these  West  High- 
land prose  tales  in  books,  but  they  are  referred  ta  In 
1703,  Martin  says  that  his  countrymen  then  told  long 


XZ  INTBODUOnON. 

tales  about  Fin  MacCoul*  but  he  adds  that  he  will  not 
trouble  the  reader  with  them. 

In  1780,  Dr.  Smith,  in  his  book  on  Gaelic  poetiy, 
saysy  that  prosaic  tales  should  be  preseryed  in  the  same 
manner  may  seem  strange,  but  so  it  is.  He  condemns 
the  ''urskels"  as  ''later  tales,"  unworthy  of  notice, 
probably  because  they  were  different  from  the  poetry 
of  whiclk  he  collected  so  much. 

Gaelic  dictionaries  mention  ''legends"  as  sources 
from  which  words  have  been  taken.  Amongst  the 
Gaelic  MSS.  now  in  the  Advocates'  library,  there  are 
seyeral  which  contain  tales  similar  to  those  now  told 
in  the  Highlands.  One  passage  about  the  sailing  of  a 
boat^  which  I  have  got^  with  variations,  from  a  great 
many  people  living  in  various  parts  of  tlio  Highlands, 
I  find  in  a  MS.  which  was  lent  to  mo  by  the  secretary 
of  the  Celtic  Society  of  London.  It  is  dated  28d 
December  1808»  signed  Alexander  Stewart,  A.M.,  and 
marked  Poems  of  Ossian.  It  contains  7721  lines  of 
Gaelic,  mostly  poetry,  which  by  the  references  seem  to 
have  been  copied  from  something  else.  The  passage 
to  which  I  refer,  occurs  in  a  "  Fragment  of  a  Tale,  p. 
17,"  which  occupies  thirty-seven  folio  pages^  and  treats 
of  carrying  off  a  lady  from  an  island,  and  her  recovery 
by  her  husband. 

Dr.  MacLeod,  the  best  of  living  Gaelic  scholars, 
printed  one  old  tale,  somewhat  altered,  with  a  moral 
added,  in  his  "  Leabhar  nan  Cnoc,"  in  1834,  but  even 
his  efforts  to  preserve  and  use  this  old  lore  were  un- 
successful 

Those,  then,  who  understood  Gaelic,  thought  popular 
tales  unworthy  of  notice ;  those  who  did  not  under- 
stand Gaelic,  could  know  nothing  about  them;  and 
there  are  many  now  living  in  die  Highlands,  who 
speak  Gaelic  and  yet  believed,  till  they  searched  at  my 


UVTBODUOnON;  ZXl 

reqaest^  that  stories  had  become  extinct  in  their  dia- 
trictBL  One  good  Highlander,  who  has  helped  me 
mnch,  Mr.  James  Bobertson,  living  at  InTeiaiy,  so 
beUered,  till  he  heard  his  own  nursemaid  repeat  No. 
17,  and  a  neighbouring  fisherman  tell  No.  6.  In  the 
TTigliUfMl«^  as  elsewhràe,  society  is  arranged  in  layers, 
like  the  climates  of  the  world.  The  dweller  on  an 
Indian  plain  litUe  dreams  that  there  is  a  region  of 
perpetual  frost  in  the  air  aboye  him ;  the  Esquimaux 
does  not  suspect  the  slumbering  volcano  under  his 
Cset ;  and  the  dwellers  in  the  upper  and  lower  strata 
of  society,  everywhere^  know  as  little  of  each  other's 
ways  of  life,  as  the  men  of  the  plain  know  of  the  moun- 
taineers in  the  snow. 

Highland  stories,  then,  have  been  despised  by  edu- 
cated men,  and  they  are  as  yet  unchanged  popular 
tales.  It  so  happened  that  a  piper  was  the  instructor 
of  my  babyhood.  He  was  a  stalwart^  kindly,  gentle 
man,  whose  hob  is  often  before  me,  though  he  has 
kmg  since  gone  to  his  rest  From  him  I  first  heard  a 
fow  of  the  tales  in  this  collection.  They  had  almost 
fiided  from  my  memory,  but  I  remembered  their  exist- 
ence^ and  I  knew  where  to  search,  so  I  began  at 
the  beginning  of  1859  by  writing  to  my  Highland 
friends,  of  all  degrees,  for  stories  of  all  kinds,  true 
stories  excepted ;  and  here  let  me  thank  them  cordially 
ùxt  the  trouble  which  they  have  taken,  for  they  are  too 
numerous  to  thank  in  detail 

I  begged  for  the  very  words  used  by  the  people 
who  told  the  stories,  with  nothing  added,  or  omitted, 
or  altered.  Those  who  could  wrote  Gaelic,  those 
who  could  not  did  their  best  in  English, — translated,  at 
first  or  second-hand,  from  Ghielic ;  and  when  I  had 
so  gathered  many  versions  of  a  story,  I  thought  I 
safely  conclude  that  it  had  been  known  in  the 


yrii  '  nrntoDUonov. 

ootmtry  for  many  yean^  and  was  essentially  a  popnlar 
tale. 

My  next  step  was  to  go  at  Easter  to  a  Highland 
district)  near  the  lowlands^  where  a  gamekeeper  had 
marked  down  a  lot  of  tale-tellen,  and  I  was  soon 
convinced  that  there  was  plenty  of  game,  though  hard 
to  get 

This  difficulty  may  be  worth  some  explanation,  for 
it  exists  elsewhere,  and  bears  on  the  collection  of  tales 
everywhere.  Highland  peasants  and  fishermen,  espe- 
cially those  dwelling  near  the  lowlands,  are  shy  and 
proud,  and  even  more  peculiarly  sensitive  to  ridicule 
than  peasants  elsewhere.  Many  have  a  lurking  belief 
in  the  truth  of  the  stories  which  they  tell,  and  a  rooted 
conviction  that  any  one  with  a  better  education  will 
laugh  at  the  belief  and  the  stoiy,  and  the  narrator  and 
his  language,  if  he  should  be  weak  enough  to  venture 
on  English,  and  betray  his  knowledge  of  Sgeultachd 
and  his  creed.  He  cannot  imagine  that  any  one  out  of 
his  own  class  can  possibly  be  amused  by  his  fHvolous 
pastimes.  No  one  ever  has  hitherto.  He  sees  eveiy 
year  a  summer  flood  of  tourists  of  all  nations  pouring 
through  his  lochs  and  glens,  but  he  knows  as  little  of 
them  as  they  know  of  him.  The  shoals  of  herrings  that 
enter  Loch  Fyne  know  as  much  of  the  dun  deer  on  the 
hill-side,  as  Londoners  and  Highland  peasants  know  of 
each  other.  Each  gets  an  occasional  peep  at  the  other 
as  the  deer  may  see  the  herrings  capering  on  the  loch — 
each  affects  the  other  slowly  but  surely,  as  the  herrings 
do  drive  away  the  wild  deer  by  attracting  men  to  catch 
them ;  but  the  want  of  a  common  language  here  as  else- 
where, keeps  Highlands  and  Lowlands,  Celt  and  Saxoii, 
as  dearly  separate  as  oil  and  water  in  the  same  glass. 

The  first  step,  then,  towards  the  acquisition  of  a 
stoiy  is  to  establish  confidence.     It  may  be  that  the 


IKTBODUOnOV.  ZXIU 

woQld-be-ooUecior  sees  before  him  a  strapping  lad 
dressed  in  the  garb  of  a  west  country  fisherman — a 
rough  blue  bonnet,  jacket^  and  trousers.  He  steps  out 
and  ranges  up  alongside.  The  Highlander  glances  from 
under  his  bushy  eyebrows,  and  sees  with  his  sharp  grey 
eyes  that  the  new  comer  is  a  stranger ;  he  looks  rather 
like  a  Saxon  ;  Highland  curiosity  is  strong,  and  he  longs 
to  ask  whence  he  comes ;  but  politeness  is  stronger, 
and  it  would  be  uncivil  to  begin  questioning  at  once. 
So  with  a  nervous  kick  of  one  foot^  and  a  quick  shy 
^ance,  the  fisherman  jerks  out»  *'It*s  a  fine  day.** 
•-Tha  n'  latha  briagh-  (The  day  is  fine)  replies  the 
stranger ;  and  as  he  speaks,  the  whole  face  and  manner 
of  his  companion  change  as  if  by  magic ;  doubt  and 
hesitation,  suspicion  and  curiosity,  become  simple  won- 
der ;  his  eyes  and  his  heart  open  wide  at  the  sound  of 
his  native  tongue,  and  he  exclaims,  "  You  have  Graelic  I" 
**  You  will  take  my  excuse  by  your  leave,  but  what 
part  of  the  Gaeldom  are  you  firom  t "  And  then  having 
found  out  aU  that  is  to  be  discovered,  the  ice  being 
broken,  and  confidence  established,  it  0020s  out  gradu- 
ally that  the  fisherman  knows  a  story,  and  after  much 
persuasion  he  tells  it^  while  he  rows  the  gentleman  who 
can  talk  Oaelic  across  a  Highland  loch.  At  parting,  he 
adds  that  he  has  only  told  it  to  please  a  "  Gael,'*  and 
that  he  would  not  have  said  one  word  to  a  Gall 
(stranger).  But  the  man  who  is  fluent  in  his  boat,  is 
shy  and  awkward  when  set  down  to  repeat  his  story  for 
transcribing,  and  it  is  only  when  set  with  one  of  his 
nei^bours  whom  he  knows,  that  his  story  is  got  on 
paper. 

Or  it  may  be  an  old  dame  in  a  tall  white  mutch 
with  a  broad  black  silk  band,  a  red  cloak,  and  clean 
white  apron.  She  is  70,  and  can  walk  ten  miles; 
she   basi  known    all    the  neighbouring  families  for 


ZXIY  INTBODUOnOV. 

generationB.  If  yon  can  claim  consulship  with  any,  she 
is  your  fHend ;  but  she  mil  praise  the  ancestors  and 
tell  of  the  adventures  of  Bob  Roy  the  Gregorach,  the 
last  of  the  freebooters.  ''But  Mary  can  you  say 
Murachag  andMionachagt"  '' Huch  1  my  dear,  that  is 
anursgeulthat  is  nonsense.  The  Good  Being  bless  you, 
I  knew  your  grandmother,"  etc.  etc.  So  one  must  rest 
contented  with  the  tàci,  that  old  Maiy  knows  one  tale, 
and  probably  many  more,  which  a  week's  persuasion 
might  perhaps  extract 

Or  it  may  be  a  pretty  lass,  whose  eye  twinkles 
with  intelligence  at  eyeiy  catch-word,  thrown  out  as  a 
bait^  but  whom  nothing  will  induce  to  confess  that  she 
knows  the  foolish  tales  which  the  minister  has  con- 
demned. 

Or  it  is  an  old  wandering  vagabond  of  a  tinker,  who 
has  no  roof  but  the  tattered  covering  of  his  teni  He 
has  pitched  it  in  a  quany  under  a  giant  fir,  the  gnarled 
roots^  half  bare,  hardly  support  the  tree  on  the  edge  of 
a  red  clay  bank,  and  form  a  kind  of  hollow,  a  ''  oòe,"  in 
which  the  tinker  and  his  tribe  have  nestled  at  odd  times 
for  years.  A  thin  blue  smoke  is  curling  amongst  the 
bladcened  roots,  and  winding  itself  about  the  noble  tree. 
A  stately  mansion  and  a  wide  domain,  and  a  blue 
highland  loch,  with  a  shoal  of  brown  herring-boats,  can 
be  seen  through  the  wood  from  the  door  of  the  tinker's 
tent ;  and  there  he  lies,  an  old  man  past  eighty,  who 
has  been  a  soldier,  and  ''has  never  seen  a  school ;"  too 
proud  to  beg,  too  old  to  work ;  surrounded  by  boxes 
and  horn  spoons,  with  shaggy  hair  and  naked  feet,  as 
perfect  a  nomad  as  the  wildest  Lapp  or  Arab  in  the 
whole  world.  It  is  easy  to  make  friends  with  such 
men.  A  kind  word  in  their  native  language  ìb  all  that 
is  required,  but  to  get  their  stories  is  another  affair. 
"Donald,  did  you  ever  see  the  like  of  tJUsf**     Up 


QITBODUCmON. 

•twis  the  old  man  on  hÌB  elbow, — ''Och  I  och  I  ihat^e  a 
ùàij  arrow,  I  have  seen  thai ;  ochl  och  I  no  fiiiiy  arrow 
will  erer  hit  the  man  who  has  thai — no  fire  will  ever 
bom  the  house  where  thai  i&  Thai's  lucky,  well  1 
well  1"  and  the  old  man  sinks  down  on  his  bed  of  fern. 
Bui  the  elf  shot  has  hii  the  mark,  and  started  a  train  of 
thou^t^  which  leads  ai  last  to  a  wild  weird  story ;  but 
before  thai  story  can  be  written,  the  whole  tribe  decamp, 
and  are  lost  for  a  time. 

The  first  difficulty,  then,  was  the  nature  of  the 
people  who  knew  the  stories ;  and  the  second,  the  want 
of  men  able  and  willing  to  write  Qaolio.  It  was  easy 
to  write  English  Torsions  of  tales  heard  in  Gaelic,  but 
I  wanted  the  Gaelic  as  it  was  told,  and  I  had  neither 
time  nor  ability  to  write  it  down  myself.  I  therefore 
sou^i  out  two  men  on  whom  I  could  rely,  to  collect 
and  write  for  me,  and  the  largest  share  of  this  book 
hss  been  collected  and  written  by  them.  One  is  Mr. 
Hector  Urquhart^  gamekeeper  ai  Ardkinglas  on  Loch 
Fyne ;  the  other,  Mr.  Hector  MacLean,  schoolmaster 
ai  Ballygrant  in  Islay,  who  has  superintended  the  print- 
ing of  the  Gaelic  They  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
work  ai  once,  and  they  have  executed  their  share  of 
it  with  the  greatest  fidelity.  But  while  these  are  my 
chief  aids,  I  am  laigely  indebted  to  many  others  for 
written  Gaelic ;  for  example,  to  one  of  my  earliest 
friends,  Mrs.  MiicTaTÌsh ;  to  the  Bar.  Mr.  MacLauchlan 
of  Edinburgh ;  to  Alexander  Eraser,  Esq.  of  Mauld, 
near  Beaulay ;  to  many  of  the  schoolmasters  on  the 
estate  of  Sir  Kenneth  MacKenzie ;  to  Mr.  Donald 
Torrie,  Benbecula ;  and  to  many  others,  including 
John  Dewar,  a  self-educated  man  of  adyanced  age, 
whose  contribution  does  him  the  greatest  credit 

The  next  step  was  to  spend  a  summer  holiday  in 
studying  the  actual  condition  of  this  popular  lore, 

h 


XXVI  IHTBODUOnON. 

where  I  had  found  that  it  existed  in  the  greatest  pro- 
fusion. I  landed  at  Ardmaddy  in  North  TJist^  and 
walked  with  a  knapsack  to  the  sound  of  Barra,  and 
back  to  Stomoway ;  crossing  the  sound  of  Harris  in  a 
fishing  boat.  I  found  a  population  differing  from  that 
of  the  main  land,  perhaps  the  least  changed  from  their 
old  ways  of  any  people  in  the  kingdom.  Gaelic  is 
their  usual,  often  their  only  language.  Every  English 
word  which  has  crept  in  has  a  Gaelic  head  and  taiL 
Many,  I  know  not  how  many,  ''have  no  English"  at  all, 
and  have  never  been  taught  to  read.  In  many  islands 
the  people  are  living  undisturbed,  where  tlieir  ancestors 
have  lived  time  out  of  mind.  They  are  a  small,  active, 
intelligent  race,  with  dark  hair  and  eyelashes,  and  grey 
eyes ;  quick,  clever,  and  pugnacioua  I  had  expected 
to  find  traces  of  Norwegian  occupation  in  the  people 
and  their  language.  I  watched  carefrdly  for  Norwegian 
words  and  features ;  and  I  found  the  people  a  complete 
contrast  to  Norwegian  peasants,  whom  I  know  well, 
who  are  large,  bony,  light-haired  fair  men,  sagacious 
rather  than  quick ;  and  generally  slow  to  anger. 

I  could  find  nothing  Scandinavian,  except  certain 
names  of  places,  and  certain  ruins,  which  it  is  the 
fashion  to  attribute  to  the  Lochlinera  Even  the  houses 
and  the  old  agricultural  implements,  where  they  are 
still  used,  are  peculiar.  For  example,  the  old  crooked 
spade  still  used  in  islands  in  the  sound  of  Barra,  and 
dsewhere,  has  no  resemblance  to  any  agricultural  imple- 
ment that  I  have  ever  seen  anywhere  out  of  the  West 
Highlands.  It  is  in  fact  a  foot  plough  used  with- 
out horsea  It  is  remarkable  that  a  steam  plough 
should  be  at  work  at  the  same  time,  on  the  east  coast 
of  Cromarty  at  Tarbert  Every  horse  I  met  on  the 
road  stopped  of  his  own  accord.  Every  man  asked  my 
news,  ''  whence  I  took  the  walking,"  where  I  lived,  and 


IMTBODUOnON.  ZXTU 

why  I  camet  Saddles  weie  often  sacks,  stirrups  a 
loop  of  twisted  bent,  bridles  the  same,  and  bits  occa- 
sionally wood.  Dresses  were  coarse,  but  good ;  but 
there  was  an  air  of  kindly  politeness  over  all,  that  is 
not  to  be  found  in  homespun  dresses  in  any  other 
country  that  I  know.  When  I  was  questioned,  I 
answered,  and  told  my  errand,  and  prospered.  *'I 
was  not  a  droyer  come  to  buy  cattie  at  the  fair  ;*' 
^  Neither  was  I  a  merchant  though  I  carried  a  pack." 
^  I  was  the  genUeman  who  was  after  Sgialachdan.** 
My  collector  had  made  my  name  known.  I  spoke 
Gaelic,  and  answered  questions.  I  am  one  of  themselves, 
so  I  got  on  famously. 

Men  and  women  of  all  ages  could  and  did  tell  me 
stories,  children  of  all  sizes  hstoned  to  them ;  and  it 
was  self-evident  that  people  generally  knew  and  en- 
joyed them.  Elsewhere  I  had  been  told,  that  thirty 
or  forty  years  ago,  men  used  to  congregate  and  teU 
stories ;  here,  I  was  told,  that  they  now  spend  whole 
winter  nights  about  the  fire  listening  to  these  old  world 
tales.  The  clergy,  in  some  places,  had  condemned 
the  practice,  and  there  it  had  fallen  into  disuse  ;  stories 
seemed  to  be  almost  exterminated  in  some  islands, 
though  I  belieye  they  were  only  buried  alive ;  but  in 
other  places  this  harmless  amusement  is  not  forbidden ; 
and  there,  in  every  cluster  of  houses,  is  some  one  man 
tuned  as  ^good  at  sgialachdan,"  whose  house  is  a 
winter  evening's  resort  I  visited  these,  and  listened, 
often  with  wonder,  at  the  extraordinary  power  of 
memory  shown  by  untaught  old  men. 

It  is  perhaps  beyond  the  province  of  a  mere  col- 
lector of  old  tales  to  be  serious;  but  surely  Gaelic 
books  containing  sound  information  would  be  a  vast 
boon  to  such  a  people.  The  young  would  read  them, 
and  the  old  would  understand  them.     All  would  take 


XXTIU  UrTBODUOnON. 

a  warmer  intereat  in  Canada  and  Auatralia,  where 
strong  arms  and  bold  spirits  are  wanted,  if  they  knew 
what  these  countries  really  are.  If  they  heard  more  of 
European  battles,  and  knew  what  a  ship  of  war  is  now, 
there  would  be  more  soldiers  and  sailors  from  the  Isles 
in  the  service  of  their  country.  At  all  events,  the  old 
spirit  of  popular  romance  is  surely  not  an  evil  spirit  to 
be  exorcised,  but  rather  a  good  genius  to  be  controlled 
and  directed  Surely  stories  iu  wliich  a  mother's 
blessing,  well  earned,  leads  to  success ;  in  which  the 
poor  rise  to  be  princes,  and  the  weak  and  courageous 
overcome  giants;  in  which  wisdom  exceUs  brute  force, — 
surely  even  such  frivolities  are  better  pastime  than  a 
solitary  whisky  bottle,  or  sleep,  or  grim  silence ;  for 
that  seems  the  choice  of  amusements  if  tales  are  for- 
bidden, and  Gaelic  books  are  not  provided  for  men 
who  know  no  other  language  ;  add  who,  as  men,  must 
be  amused  now  and  then. 

I  have  never  heard  a  stoiy,  whose  point  was  ob- 
scenity, publicly  told  in  a  Highland  cottage ;  and  I 
believe  that  such  are  rare.  I  have  heard  them  where 
the  rough  polish  of  more  modem  ways  has  replaced 
the  polished  roughness  of  '^  wild  "  Highlanders  ;  and 
that  where  even  the  bagpipes  have  been  almost  abo- 
lished as  profan& 

I  have  heard  the  music  of  the  Cider  Cellars  in  a 
parlour,  even  in  polished  England,  when  I  had  failed 
to  extract  anything  else  from  a  group  of  comfortably- 
dressed  villagers.  A  half-polished  human  gem  is  but 
a  spoiled  crystal  anywhere ;  and  I  prefer  the  rough 
diamond  or  the  finished  jewel 

But  this  is  foreign  to  my  work  ;  my  visits  were  to 
the  tellers  of  old  stories,  aud  had  nothing  to  do  with 
political  economy  and  public  moral&  I  paid  my 
visits,  and  heard  the  stories ;  and  a  goodly  audience 


IHTRODUOnOK. 

often  gathered  to  ehare  the  treaty  and  all  seemed  mar- 
Tellonaly  to  ei\joy  it  If  iheie  was  an  occasional  coarse 
word  spoken,  it  was  not  coarsely  meant 

Let  me  describe  one  of  these  old  story  men  as  a 
type  of  his  kind.  I  trust  he  will  not  be  offended,  for 
he  was  yery  polite  to  me.  His  name  is  MacPhie ;  he 
lÌTes  at  the  north  end  of  South  Uist^  where  the  road 
ends  at  a  soond,  which  has  to  be  folded  at  the  ebb  to 
get  to  Benbecohk  The  house  is  built  of  a  doable  wall 
of  loose  boulders,  with  a  layer  of  peat  three  feet  thick 
between  the  walls.  The  ends  are  round,  and  the  roof 
rests  on  the  inner  wall,  learing  room  for  a  crop  of  yellow 
gowans.  A  man  might  walk  round  the  roof  on  Uie  top 
of  the  wall  There  is  but  one  room,  with  two  low  doors, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  house.  The  fire  is  on  the  floor ; 
the  chimney  is  a  hole  above  it ;  and  the  rafters  are 
hung  with  pendants  and  festoons  of  shining  black  peat 
reek.  They  are  of  birch  from  the  mainland,  American 
drift  wood,  or  broken  wreck.  They  support  a  cover- 
ing of  turf  and  straw,  and  stones,  and  heather  ropes, 
which  keep  out  the  rain  well  enough. 

The  house  stands  on  a  green  bank,  with  grey  rocks 
protruding  tiirough  the  turf  j  and  Uie  whole  neigh* 
bourhood  is  pervaded  by  cockle  shells,  which  indicate 
the  food  of  the  people  and  their  fishing  pursuits.  In 
a  neighbouring  kiln  there  were  many  cart-loads  about 
to  be  burned,  to  make  that  lime  which  is  so  durable  in 
the  old  castles.  The  owner  of  the  house,  whom  I 
visited  twice,  is  seventy-nine.  He  told  me  nine 
stories,  and  like  all  the  others,  declared  that  Uiere 
was  no  man  in  the  islands  who  knew  them  so  well 
"  He  could  not  say  how  many  he  knew  ;**  he  seemed 
to  know  versions  of  nearly  everything  I  had  got ;  and 
he  told  me  plainly  that  my  versions  were  good  for 
nothing.     '*  Uuch  I  Thou  hast  not  got  them  right  at 


niTRODUCTION. 

alL*'  '*  They  came  into  hia  mind,'*  he  said,  ^'aometimea 
at  night  when  he  could  not  aleep, — old  talea  that  he 
had  not  heard  for  threeacore  yeara.'* 

He  had  the  manner  of  a  practiaed  narrator,  and  it 
ia  quite  evident  that  he  ia  one ;  he  chuckled  at  the 
intereating  parte,  and  laid  hia  withered  finger  on  my 
knee  aa  he  gave  out  the  terrible  bita  with  due 
aolemnity.  A  email  boy  in  a  kilt^  with  large  round 
glittering  eyea,  waa  atandiing  mute  at  hia  knee,  gaàng 
at  hia  wrinkled  face,  and  devouring  every  word. 
The  bo/a  mother  firat  boiled,  and  then  maahed 
potatoea ;  and  hia  father,  a  well  grown  man  in  tartan 
breeka,  ate  them.  Ducka  and  ducklinga,  a  cat  and  a 
kitten,  aome  hena  and  a  baby,  all  tumbled  about  on  the 
clay  floor  together,  and  expreaaed  their  delight  at  the 
aavoury  prospect^  each  in  hia  own  faahion  ;  and  three 
wayfarera  dropped  in  and  liatened  for  a  apell,  and 
pasaed  their  remarks  tUl  the  ford  waa  ahallow.  The 
light  came  streaming  down  the  chimney,  and  through 
a  single  pane  of  glaaa,  lighting  up  a  track  in  the  blue 
mist  of  the  peat  smoke ;  and  fell  on  the  white  hair 
and  brown  withered  face  of  the  old  man,  aa  he  aat  on 
a  low  stool  with  hia  feet  to  the  fire  ;  and  the  reat  of 
the  dweUing,  with  all  ita  plenishing  of  boxes  and  box- 
beds,  dishes  and  dresser,  and  gear  of  all  sorts,  faded 
away  through  shadea  of  deepening  brown,  to  the  black 
darkness  of  the  smoked  roof  and  the  "  peat  comer." 
There  we  aat^  and  smoked  and  talked  for  houra,  till 
the  tide  ebbed  ;  and  then  I  crossed  the  ford  by  wading 
up  to  the  waiflt^  and  dried  my  clothea  in  the  wind  in 
Benbecula. 

Another  man  of  the  same  stamp,  Patrick  Smith, 
livea  near  the  sound  of  Barra ;  and  a  third,  ''  Donald 
MacDonald  MacCharlea  Maclntyre,"  in  Benbecula; 
and  I  heard  of  plenty  more,  whom  I  had  not  time  to 


UfTRODUOnOK.  XXXI 

TÌBÌi  I  found  them  to  be  men  with  clear  heads  and 
wonderful  memories,  generally  yery  poor  and  old,  living 
in  remote  oomera  of  remote  ialandB,  and  speaking  only 
Gaelic ;  in  shorty  those  who  have  lived  most  at  home, 
furthest  from  the  world,  and  who  have  no  source  of  men- 
tal relaxation  beyond  Uiemselves  and  their  neighbours. 

At  Gearrloch  on  the  mainland,  some  old  namesakes 
of  mine  are  of  the  same  stamp,  but  in  these  regions  the 
schoolmaster  has  made  himself  at  homa  Tales  have 
been  forbidden,  but  other  lore  has  been  provided. 
There  are  many  well  attended  English  schools,  so  old 
men  have  access  to  books  and  newspapers  through 
their  children.  Tradition  is  out  of  fashion  and  books 
are  in. 

Farther  east  stories  are  still  rarer,  and  seem  to 
be  told  rather  by  women  than  by  men.  The  long 
romances  of  the  west  give  pkce  to  stories  about 
C^iosts  and  fairies,  apparitions,  and  dreams, — stories 
which  would  be  told  in  a  few  words,  if  at  all,  in 
the  islands.  Fairy  belief  is  becoming  a  fairy  talei 
In  another  generation  it  will  grow  into  a  romance^  as 
it  has  in  the  hands  of  poets  elsewhere,  and  then  the 
whole  will  either  be  forgotten  or  carried  from  people 
who  must  work  to  gentles  who  can  afford  to  be  idle 
and  read  books.  Railways,  roads,  newspapers,  and 
touristic  are  slowly  but  surely  doing  their  accustomed 
work.  They  are  driving  out  romance ;  but  they  are 
not  driving  out  the  popular  creed  as  to  supematurals. 
That  creed  will  survive  when  the  last  remnant  of 
romance  has  been  banished,  for  superstition  seems  to 
belong  to  no  one  period  in  the  history  of  civilization, 
but  to  alL  It  is  as  rife  in  towns  asit  is  amongst  the 
hills,  and  is  not  confined  to  the  ignorant 

I  have  wandered  amongst  the  peasantry  of  many 
countries,  and  this  trip  but  confirmed  my  old  impres- 


XXZU  nVTBODUOnON. 

ftion.  There  aie  few  peasants  that  I  think  so  highly  of, 
none  that  I  like  so  welL  Sootch  Highlanders  have 
faults  in  plenty,  but  they  have  the  bearing  of  Nature's 
own  gentlemen — ^the  delicate,  natural  tact  which  dis- 
covers, and  the  good  taste  which  avoids,  all  that  would 
hurt  or  offend  a  guest.  The  poorest  is  ever  the  readi- 
est to  share  the  best  he  has  with  the  stranger.  A 
kind  word  kindly  meant  is  never  thrown  away,  and 
whatever  may  be  the  &ults  of  this  people,  I  have 
never  found  a  boor  or  a  churl  in  a  Highland  bothy. 

Celts  have  played  their  part  in  ^tory,  and  they 
have  a  part  to  play  still  in  Canada  and  Australia, 
where  their  language  and  character  will  leave  a 
trace  if  they  do  not  influence  the  destiny  of  these  new 
worlds.  There  are  hundreds  in  those  distant  lands, 
whoso  language  is  still  Gaelic,  and  to  whom  these 
stories  are  familiar,  and  if  this  book  sliould  ever 
remind  any  of  them  of  the  old  country,  I  shall  not 
have  worked  in  vain  in  the  land  which  they  call  '*  Tir 
nam  Beann  s*  nan  gleann  s'  nan  ghaisgach."* 

So  much,  then,  for  the  manner  of  collecting  the 
tales,  and  the  people  who  told  them.  The  popular 
lore  which  I  found  current  in  the  west,  and  known  all 
over  the  Highlands  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  amongst 
the  poorer  classes,  consists  of : — 

Ist  That  which  is  called  Seanachas  naFinne,  or 
Feinne,  or  Fiann,  that  is,  the  tradition  or  old  history 
of  the  Feene. 

This  is  now  the  rarest  of  any,  and  is  commonest, 
so  far  as  I  know,  in  Barra  and  South  Uist  There  are 
first  fragments  of  poems  which  may  have  been  taken 
from  the  printed  book,  which  goes  by  the  name  of  the 
History  of  the  Finne  in  the  Highlands,  and  the  Poems 
of  Ossian  elsewhere.     I  never  asked  for  these,  but  I 

*  The  land  of  hills,  and  glenf ,  and  heroes. 


IlfTBODUOnOK.  ZZZÌÌÌ 

was  told  that  the  words  wei^  '^sharper  and  deeper** 
than  thoee  in  the  printed  book. 

There  are^  secondly,  poetical  fragments  about  the 
same  persons,  which,  to  the  best  of  mj  knowledge,  are 
not  in  any  printed  book.  I  heard  some  of  Aese 
repeated  by  three  different  men. 

Patrick  Smith,  in  South  Uist,  intoned  a  long  frag- 
ment ;  I  should  guess,  about  200  lines.  He  recited 
it  rapidly  to  a  kind  of  chant  The  subject  was  a  fight 
with  a  Norway  witch,  and  Ilonn,  Diarmaid,  Oscar,  and 
Conan,  were  named  as  Irish  heroes.  There  were 
**  ships  fastened  with  sUrer  chains,  and  kings  holding 
them ;  **  swords,  spears,  helmets,  shields,  and  battles, 
were  mentioned ;  in  shorty  the  fragment  was  the  same 
in  style  and  machinery  as  the  famous  Poems  ;  and  it 
was  attributed  to  Ossian.  The  repetition  began  with 
a  short  prose  account  of  what  was  to  follow.  Smith  is 
sixty,  and  says  that  he  cannot  read.  He  does  not 
understand  English.  He  says  that  such  poems  used  to 
be  so  chanted  commonly  when  he  was  young.  The 
same  account  of  tlie  manner  of  rodting  similar  poems 
was  giron  me  by  a  clergyman  in  Argyllshire,  who  said 
that^  within  his  recollection,  the  "  death  of  Guchullin** 
used  to  be  so  recited  by  an  old  man  at  the  head  of 
Loch  Awe. 

Donald  Madntyre,  in  Benbecula,  recited  a  similar 
fragment,  which  has  since  been  written  and  sent  to  me. 
The  subject  is  a  dialogue  between  a  lady  and  a  mes- 
senger returning  from  battle,  with  a  number  of  heads 
on  a  withy ;  the  lady  asks  their  story,  and  the  mes- 
senger tells  whose  heads  they  were,  and  how  the  heroes 
felL  It  sounded  better  than  it  reads,  but  the  tran- 
scriber had  nerer  written  Gaelic  before. 

John  Campbell,  generally  known  as  "  YeUow  John,** 
lÌYÌng  in  Strath  Gearrloch,  about  twelve  miles  west  of 


INTRODUCTION. 

Flowerdale^  repeated  a  dmilor  fragment^  which  taaied 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  He  said  he  had  known  it  for 
half  a  century.  He  is  a  yexy  old  man,  and  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  foUow  him,  and  the  poetry  was  mingled  with 
prose,  and  with  "  said  he,"  "  said  she.**  It  was  the 
last  remnant  of  something  which  the  old  man  could 
only  remember  imperfectly,  and  which  he  gave  in 
broken  sentences;  but  here  again  the  combat  was  with 
a  Norway  witch,  and  the  scene,  Ireland.  Fionn  Diar- 
maid  and  other  such  names  appeared.  Diarmaid  had 
''his  golden  helm  on  his  head;"  his  ''two  spears  on 
his  shoulder ;"  his  "  narrow-pointed  shield  on  his  left 
arm ;"  his  "  small  shield  on  his  right ;"  his  sword  was 
"  leafy,"  (t)  leaf-shaped.  And  the  old  man  believed 
that  Diarmaid,  the  Irish  hero,  was  his  ancestor,  and 
his  own  real  name  O'duine.  He  spoke  of  "  his  chief 
MacCalain,"  and  treated  me  with  extra  kindness,  as  a 
kinsman.  "  Will  you  not  take  some  more"  (milk  and 
potatoes).  "Perhaps  we  may  never  see  each  other 
again.     Are  we  not  both  Campbells  t" 

I  heard  of  other  men  who  could  repeat  such  poems, 
and  I  have  heard  of  such  men  all  my  life ;  but  as  I 
did  not  set  out  to  gather  poems,  I  took  no  trouble  to 
get  them. 

Two  chiefs,  I  think  one  was  MacLeod,  sent 
their  two  fools  to  gather  bait  on  the  shore,  and  to 
settle  a  bet  which  fool  was  the  best,  they  strewed  gold 
on  the  path.  One  fool  stopped  to  gather  it,  but 
the  other  said,  "  When  we  are  at '  golding,'  let  us  be 
'  golding,'  and  when  we  are  at  bait-making,  let  us  be 
bait-making,"  and  he  stuck  to  his  bu8ine8&  My  busi- 
ness was  prose,  but  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to 
state  my  own  opinion  about  the  Ossian  controversy, 
for  I  have  been  asked  more  than  once  if  I  had  found 
any  trace  of  such  poems. 


INTBODUOnON. 

I  beliere  that  there  were  poems  of  Tory  old  date^ 
of  which  a  few  fragments  still  exist  in  Scotland  as  pure 
traditions.  That  these  related  to  Celtic  worthies  who 
were  popular  heroes  before  the  Celts  came  from  Ireland, 
and  answer  to  Arthur  and  his  knights  elsewhera 
That  the  same  personages  hare  figured  in  poems  com- 
posed, or  altered,  or  improved,  or  spoilt  by  bards  who 
lÌTed  in  Scotland,  and  by  Irish  bards  of  all  periods ; 
and  that  these  personages  have  been  mythical  heroes 
amongst  Celts  from  the  earliest  of  time&  That  "  the 
poems"  were  orally  collected  by  MacPherson,  and 
by  men  before  him,  by  Dr.  Smith,  by  the  committee 
of  the  Highland  Society,  and  by  others,  and  that  the 
printed  Graelic  is  old  poetry,  mended  and  patched,  and 
pieced  together,  and  altered,  but  on  the  whole  a 
genuine  work.  Manuscript  evidence  of  the  antiquity 
of  similar  Gaelic  poems  exista  Some  were  printed 
in  1807,  under  the  authority  of  the  Highland  Society 
of  London,  with  a  Latin  translation,  notes,  etc,  and 
were  reprinted  in  1818.  MacPherson's  **  transla- 
tion** appeared  between  17G0  and  17G2,  and  the 
eontrovorsy  raged  from  the  beginning,  and  is  growl- 
ing still  ;  but  the  dispute  now  is,  whether  the 
poems  were  originally  Seoieh  or  /m^  and  how  much 
MacPherson  altered  them.  It  is  like  the  quarrel 
about  the  chameleon,  for  the  languages  spoken  in  Islay 
and  Rathlin  are  identical,  and  the  language  of  the 
poems  is  difficult  for  me,  though  I  have  spoken 
Gaelic  from  my  childhood.  There  is  no  doubt  at 
all  that  Gaelic  poems  on  such  subjects  existed  long 
before  Macpherson  was  bom;  and  it  is  equally 
certain  that  there  is  no  composition  in  the  Gaelic 
language  which  bears  the  smallest  resemblance  in  style 
to  the  peculiar  kind  of  prose  in  which  it  pleased  Mac- 
Pherson to   translate.      The  poems  have  a  peculiar 


ZXXVl  INTBODUOnON. 

rhythm,  and  a  style  of  their  own  which  ìb  altogether 
lost  in  hiB  English  translation.  Bat  what  concerns  me 
is  the  popular  belief  and  it  seems  to  be  this — **  Mao- 
Pherson  must  have  been  a  veiy  dishonest  person  when 
he  allowed  himself  to  pass  as  the  author  of  Ossian's 
poema"  So  said  a  lady,  one  of  my  earliest  friends, 
whoee  age  has  not  impaired  her  memory,  and  so  say 
those  who  are  best  informed,  and  understand  the 
language. 

The  illiterate  seem  to  have  no  opinion  on  the  sub- 
ject So  fjfir  as  I  could  ascertain,  few  had  heard  of  the 
controversy,  but  they  had  all  heard  scraps  of  poems 
and  stories  about  the  Finne,  all  their  lives  ;  and  they 
are  content  to  believe  that  "  Ossian,  the  last  of  the 
Finne,"  composed  the  poems,  wrote  them,  and  burned 
his  book  in  a  pet^  when  he  was  old  and  blind,  because 
St  Patrick,  or  St  Paul,  or  some  other  saint^  would 
not  believe  his  wonderful  stories." 

Those  who  would  study  "the  controversy,"  will 
find  plenty  of  discussion  ;  but  the  report  of  the  High- 
land Society  appears  to  settle  the  question  on  evidence. 
I  cannot  do  better  than  quote  from  Johnson's  Poets  the 
opinion  of  a  great  author,  who  was  a  groat  translator, 
who,  in  speaking  of  his  own  work,  says  : — 

"  What  must  the  world  think  .  .  .  After  looh  a  judgment 
pasted  by  so  great  a  critiok,  the  world  who  decides  so  often,  and 
who  examines  so  seldom ;  the  world  who,  even  in  matters  of  litera- 
ture, is  ahnost  always  the  slave  of  authority?  Who  will  suspect 
that  so  much  learning  should  mistake,  that  so  much  accuracy 
should  be  misled,  or  that  so  much  candour  should  be  biassed  ? 
;  .  .  .  I  think  that  no  translation  ought  to  be  the  ground  of 
oritioÌBm,  because  no  man  ought  to  be  condemned  upon  another 

man's  explanation  of  his  meaning *'    (Postscript  to 

the  Odyssey*  Pope's  Homer,  Johnson's  Poets,  pp.  279,  280). 

And  to  that  quotation  let  me  add  this  manuscript 


INTBODUOnON.  XZXVU 

note,  which  I  found  in  a  copy  of  the  report  of  the 
Highland  Sodety,  on  the  poems  of  Oseian  ;  which 
I  porchased  in  December  1859  ;  and  which  came  from 
the  library  of  Colonel  Hamilton  Smith,  at  Plymouth.  \ 

4 

**  Hm  B«Terend  Dr.  Campbell,  of  Halfway  Tree,  lienaaa,  in 
Jamaica,  often  repeated  to  me  in  the  year  1799,  1801,  and  180S, 
parta  of  OMiaa  in  Gaelio ;  and  aaanred  me  that  he  had  poeeeieed 
a  manneeript,  long  the  property  of  hia  family,  in  whioh  Oaelio 
poema,  and  in  particular,  whole  piecea  of  Oiaian'i  oomporitioni 
wore  contained.  Thia  he  took  out  with  him  on  hia  first  Toyage 
to  the  Weat  Indies  in  1780,  when  his  ship  was  captnre<l  by  a  boat 
from  the  Santisrima  Trinidata  flagsliip,  of  the  whole  Spanish 
fleet ;  and  he,  together  with  all  the  other  passengers,  lost  nearly 
the  whole  of  their  baggage,  among  whicb  was  the  volume  in 
qnestioo.  In  1814,  when  I  was  on  the  staff  of  (General  Sir 
Thomas  Qraham,  now  Lord  Lyndoch,  I  undentood  that  Mr.  Mao- 
Pherson  had  been  at  one  time  his  tutor ;  and,  therefore,  I  asked 
his  opinion  respecting  the  authentioity  of  the  Poems.  His  lord- 
ship replied  that  he  never  had  any  doubts  on  the  subject,  he  hav- 
ing seen  in  Mr.  MacPhereon*s  possession  several  manuscripts  in 
the  (Gaelic  language,  and  heard  him  speak  of  them  repeatedly ; 
he  told  me  some  stronger  particulars,  which  I  cannot  now  note 
down,  for  the  oonversation  took  place  during  the  action  of  our 
winter  campaign. 

(Sgned)        "  CHABLn  Hàii^  Smitb,  LI.-C0I.*' 


The  Colonel  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  greai 
antiquary,  and  had  a  valuable  library.  James  Mao- 
Phenon,  a  "  modest  young  man,  who  was  master  of 
Greek  and  Latin,*'  was  ''  procured  "  to  be  a  preceptor 
to  *'  the  boy  Tommy,"  who  was  afterwards  Lord  Lyn- 
doch (according  to  a  letter  in  a  book  printed  for  pri- 
Tate  circulation).  As  it  appears  to  me,  those  who  are 
ignorant  of  Gaelic,  and  now-a-days  maintain  that 
'^MacPherson  composed  Ossian*s  Poems,**  are  like  critics 
who^  being  ignonnt  of  Greek,  should  maintain  that 


XZXyiU  INTBODUOnOV. 

Pope  wrote  the  Odyasey,  and  was  the  father  of  Homer; 
or,  being  ignorant  of  English,  should  declare  that 
Tennyson  was  the  father  of  King  Arthur  and  all  his 
knights,  because  he  has  published  one  of  many  poems 
which  treat  of  them.  It  was  different  when  High- 
landers were  ''rebels;**  and  it  was  petty  treason  to 
deny  that  they  were  sayages. 

A  glance  at  "Johnson's  Tour  in  the  Hebrides," 
will  show  the  feeling  of  the  day.  He  heard  Gaelic 
songs  in  plenty,  but  would  not  believe  in  Qaelio 
poema  He  appreciated  the  kindness  and  hospitality 
with  which  he  was  treated ;  he  praised  the  politeness 
of  all  ranks,  and  yet  maintained  that  their  language 
was  "  the  rude  speech  of  a  barbarous  people^  who  had 
few  thoughts  to  express,  and  were  content,  as  they 
conceived  grossly,  to  be  grossly  understood.** 

He  could  see  no  beauty  in  the  mountains  which 
men  now  flock  to  see.  He  saw  no  fish  in  fording 
northern  rivers,  and  explains  how  the  winter  torrents 
sweep  them  away ;  the  stags  were  "  perhaps  not  bigger 
than  our  fallow-deer  ;**  the  waves  were  not  larger  than 
those  on  the  coast  of  Sussex;  and  yet^  though  the 
Doctor  would  not  believe  in  (jaelio  poems,  he  did  be- 
lieve that  peat  grow  as  it  was  cut,  and  that  the  vege- 
table part  of  it  probably  caused  a  glowing  redness  in 
the  eurth  of  which  it  is  mainly  composed ;  and  he 
came  away  willing  to  believe  in  the  second  eighty 
though  not  quite  convinced. 

That  sturdy  old  Briton,  the  great  lexicographer,  who 
is  an  honour  to  his  country,  was  not  wholly  free  from 
national  prejudice ;  he  erred  in  some  things ;  he  may 
have  erred  in  a  matter  of  which  he  could  not  well 
judge ;  he  did  not  understand  Qaelio ;  he  did  not  be- 
lieve in  traditions ;  he  would  not  believe  in  the  trans- 
lations;   and  MacPherson  seems  to  have  ended  by 


INTBODUOnOK.  XZXIX 

enooonging  the  public  belief  that  he  was  the  author  of 
poems  which  had  gained  so  wide  a  celebrity. 

Matters  have  changed  for  the  better  since  those 
days;  Celt  and  Saxon  are  no  longer  deadly  foes. 
There  still  exists,  as  I  am  informed,  an  anti-Celtic 
society,  whose  president^  on  state  occasions,  wears 
three  pairs  of  trousers ;  but  it  is  no  longer  penal  to 
dispense  with  these  garments  ;  and  there  are  Southerns 
who  discard  them  idtogether,  when  they  go  north  to 
pursue  the  little  stags  on  the  ugly  hills,  and  catch  fish 
in  the  torrents. 

There  are  Celtic  names  in  high  places,  in  India, 
and  at  home ;  and  an  English  Buke  is  turning  the 
Gaelic  of  Ossian*s  poems  into  English  verse. 

This,  however,  is  foreign  to  my  subject^  though  it 
bears  somewhat  on  the  rest  of  the  traditions  of  the 
Knne.  I  have  stated  my  own  opinion  because  I  hold 
it,  not  because  I  wish  to  influence  those  who  difler 
fh)m  me.  I  have  no  wish  to  stir  up  the  embers  of  an 
expiring  controversy,  which  was  besprinkled  with 
peculiarly  acrid  ink,  and  obscured  by  acid  fumes.  I 
neither  believe  that  MacPheison  composed  Ossian, 
nor  that  Ossian  composed  all  the  poems  which  bear 
his  name.  I  am  quite  content  to  believe  Ossian  to 
have  been  an  Irishman,  or  a  Scotchman,  or  a  myth, 
on  su£Bcient  evidence. 

Besides  these  few  remnants  of  poetry  which  still 
survive^  I  find  a  great  many  prose  tales  relating  to 
the  heroes  of  the  poems ;  and  as  these  personages 
certainly  were  popular  heroes  in  Ireland  and  in 
Scotland  centuries  ago,  I  give  what  I  have  gathered 
concerning  them,  with  the  conviction  that  it  is  purely 
Celtic  tradition.* 

•  See  pege  156  of  '*  8cotl«ad  in  the  Middle  Aget,"  hj  Coeino 
LuMS,  KdmMstoB  and  DoogUs,  I860,  for  erideno  Ukeo  fron 


Xl  INTRODUOnON. 

The  Seannachaa  of  the  Fine  oonnsts,  then,  of 
poetry  already  printed;  fragments  which  are  not  in 
prints  80  fjfir  as  I  know,  and  which  are  now  Tory  rare ; 
and  proae  tales  which  are  tolerably  common,  bat 
rapidly  disappearing. 

In  all  these,  according  to  tradition,  Fionn,  Diar- 
maid,  and  the  rest,  are  generally  represented  as  Irish 
worthies.  Tlie  scene  is  often  laid  in  Ireland ;  but  there 
are  hundreds  of  places  in  Scotland  in  which  some  of 
the  exploits  are  said  to  have  been  performed.  I 
know  not  how  many  cairns  are  supposed  to  contain 
the  bones  of  the  wild  boar,  whose  bristles  wounded 
the  feet  of  Diarmaid  when  he  paced  his  length  against 
the  hair ;  Kyle  Reay,  in  Skye^  is  named  after  a  giant 
warrior  who  leaped  the  strait  There  are  endless  moun- 
tains bearing  Ossianic  names  in  all  parts  of  Scotland, 
and  even  in  the  Isle  of  Man  the  same  names  are  to 
be  found  mixed  up  with  legends.  In  April  I860, 
I  met  a  peasant  near  Eamsay  who  knew  the  name  of 
Fin  MacCoul,  though  he  would  not  say  a  word  about 
him  to  me.  In  Train's  history  of  the  island,  published 
by  Mary  Quiggin,  1845,  at  page  359,  is  this  note  : — 

**  In  a  letter,  dated  20th  September  1844,  from  a  highly  re- 
spected correipondent  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  he  laja — '  Are  you 
aware  that  the  septennial  appearance  of  the  iiland,  eaid  to  be 
lubmerged  in  the  tea  bj  enchantment  near  Port  Soderick,  ii  ex- 
pected about  the  end  of  thii  month.'  Thongh  the  ipell  bj  which 
thii  fancified  island  hat  been  bound  to  the  bottom  of  the  ocean 
■ince  the  dayi  of  the  great  Fin  M'Coul,  and  its  inhabitants  trans- 
formed into  blocks  of  granite,  might,  according  to  popular  belief, 
be  broke  by  placing  a  bible  on  anj  part  of  the  enchanted  land 
when  at  its  original  altitude  above  the  waters  of  the  deep,  where 

"  The  fathers  of  our  Scotch  literature,"  and  the  report  of  the 
Highland  Society 


INTBODUOTION.  zli 

U  if  permitted  to  remain  onlj  for  tbe  ihort  epeoe  of  thirtj 
mioatee.  No  pereon  hni  yet  had  the  hardihood  to  make  the 
attempt,  kit,  in  caae  of  failure,  the  enchanter,  in  revenge,  might 
eaat  hie  dab  over  Mona  alao." 

And  in  Ciegeen's  Manks  dictionary,  by  the  same  pab- 
liaheTi  18d5|  is  Uiia  Manks  pioyerb— 

"Ny  three  geayghjn  a*  feayrey  dennee  Hon  M'Cooil 
Geaj  hetmen,  as  geay  hoill, 
Afl  geay  fo  nj  ihiaoOl." 

Which  I  undentand  to  mean — 

Hie  three  ooldeit  windi  that  eame  to  Flon  If  *Gooil, 
Wind  from  a  thaw,  wind  from  a  hole. 
And  wind  from  nnder  the  aails. 

In  short,  I  belieye  that  the  heroes  of  Ossian  belong  to 
the  raoe^  not  to  any  one  set  of  poemsi  or  to  any  single 
branch  of  the  Celtic  language. 

Sd.  There  are  tales,  not  necessarily  abont  the  Fine, 
consisting  partly  of  plain  narrative  and  dialogue,  which 
▼ary  with  CTCiy  narrator,  and  probably  more  or  less 
erery  time  the  story  is  told  ;  and  partly  of  a  kind  of 
measured  prose,  which  is  unlike  anything  I  know  in 
any  other  language.  I  suspect  that  these  have  been 
eompositàons  at  some  time,  but  at  what  time  I  cannot 
oven  guess* 

li^ese  almost  always  relate  to  Ireland  and  Scandi- 
navia ;  to  boats,  knights,  swords,  and  shields.  There 
are  adventures  under  ground,  much  batUe,  generaUy  an 
island  with  fire  about  it  (perhaps  Iceland),  and  a  lady 
to  be  carried  ofL  There  is  often  an  old  woman  who 
has  some  mysterious  vessel  of  balsam  which  brings 
the  dead  to  life^  and  a  despised  character  who  turns 
out  to  be  the  real  hero,  sometimes  a  boaster  who  is 
held  up  to  ridicula  I  believe  these  to  be  bardic  re- 
dtaiions  fast  disappearing  and  changing  into  prose ; 


Zlii  IMTBODUOnON. 

for  the  older  the  narrator  ia,  the  leaa  educated,  and 
the  farther  remoyed  horn  the  reat  of  the  world,  the 
more  hia  storiea  are  gamiahed  with  theae  paaaagea. 
"Fin  MacComhal  goea  to  Graffee,"  puhliahed  in  1867 
from  Mayo^  ia  evidently  a  tranalation  of  a  tale  of  thia 
kind.  In  all  theaoi  the  aceneia  laid  in  Eirinn  and  Loch- 
Ian,  now  Ireland  and  Scandinavia,  and  theae  would 
aeem  to  have  been  border  countriea.  Perhapa  the 
atoriea  relate  to  the  time  when  the  Scandinaviana 
occupied  part  of  the  WeBtem  Islea. 

dd.  lliere  ia  popular  history  of  eventa  which  really 
happened  within  the  laat  few  centuriea  :  of  thia,  I  have 
gathered  none,  but  I  heard  a  great  deal  in  aveiy  abort 
time,  and  I  have  heard  it  all  my  life.  It  ia  a  hiatoiy 
devoid  of  dotea,  but  with  clear  atarting  pointa.  The 
event  happened  at  the  time  of  Shamaa  (Jamea)  at  the 
battle  of  Shirra  Muir ;  at  Inverlochy ;  after  GuUoden. 
The  battle  was  between  MacNeill  and  MacLeod. 
MacLeod  came  from  t?iat  castle.  They  met  on  thai 
atrand.  The  dead  are  buried  there.  Their  deaoendanta 
now  live  in  such  a  place.  He  waa  the  laat  man 
hanged  in  Harria.  That  is  called  the  alab  of  lamenta- 
tion, from  which  the  MacLeana  embarked  for  Ireland 
when  the  MacDonalda  had  conquered  them,  and  taken 
the  land.  MocLean  exposed  hia  wife  on  the  Lady 
Bock  because  she  had  made  hia  servant  blow  up  one  of 
the  ahipa  of  the  Spaniah  Armada,  for  jealousy  of  the 
Spanish  lady  who  waa  on  board.  The  histoiy  is 
minute  and  drcumstantia],  and  might  be  veiy  intmat- 
ing  if  faithfully  collected,  but  it  ia  rather  local  than 
national,  and  is  not  within  the  scope  of  my  work.  It 
is  by  far  the  most  abundant  popular  lore,  and  haa  atill 
a  great  hold  on  the  people.  The  decision  of  a  magis- 
trate in  a  late  case  of  ''  Sapaid"  (broken  heads)  waa  very 
effective,  because  he  appealed  to  this  feeling.     It  waa 


IHTBODUOnON.  xliii 

tbas  described  to  me  :  *'  Ah  I  he  gave  it  to  them.  He 
ktnt  back  in  hia  chair,  and  spoke  grandly  for  half  an 
hour.  He  said  yon  are  as  wild  men  fighting  together 
in  the  days  of  ELing  Shamas." 

4th.  There  are  tales  which  relate  to  men  and 
ivomen  only,  and  to  events  that  might  have  happened 
anywheio  at  any  time.  They  might  possibly  be  tme, 
and  equally  true,  whether  the  incidents  happened  to  an 
Esstem  sage  or  a  wise  old  Highlander.  Such  tales  as 
Koa.  19  and  20.  These  are  plentiful,  and  their  charac- 
teristio  is  sagacity  and  hidden  meaning. 

5th.  There  are  children's  tales,  of  which  some  are 
giren.  They  are  inpoetry  and  prose  as  elsewhere,  and 
bear  a  general  resemblance  to  such  tales  all  over  the 
world.  The  cat  and  the  moose  play  parts  in  the 
nursery  drama  of  the  Western  Isles,  as  well  as  in 
''Contes  et  Apologues  Indiens  inconnus  jusqu'  a  ce  y^' 
jour,"  etc  ;  a  translation  into  French,  by  Mr.  Stanis- 
laus Juhen,  in  18G0,  of  Chinese  books,  which  were 
translated  into  that  language  from  Sanscrit  in  1565,  by 
m  Chinese  doctor,  and  I^idont  of  the  Ministry  of 
Justice,  who  composed  ''The  Forest  of  Comparisons," 
in  twenty-four  Tolumes,  dÌTÌded  into  20  classes,  and 
■ubdÌTÌded  into  508  sections,  after  twenty  years  of 
haid  labour,  during  which  he  abstracted  about  400 
works.  This  is  the  name  of  one  :  Fo-choue-kiun- 
nieon-pi-king. 

Let  those  who  call  Gaelic  hard,  try  that ;  or  this  : 
Tchong-king-siouen-tsi-pi-yu-king. 

Let  those  who  contemn  nursery  rhymes,  think  of 
the  French  sarant,  and  the  Chinese  cabinet  minister, 
and  the  learning  which  they  have  bestowed  on  the  con- 
Tersations  of  cats  and  mice. 

6th.  Biddies  and  puoles,  of  which  there  area  very 
great  nnmber.    They  are  generally  descriptÌTe,  suph  as, 


zlÌT  INTBODUOnOir. 

^^Ko  bigger  than  a  barley  coniy  it  ooren  the  kingfa 
boaid** — (the  eye).  I  have  given  a  few.  If  any 
despise  riddles^  let  them  bear  in  mind  that  the  Queen 
of  Sheba  is  believed  to  have  propounded  riddles  to 
Sdomon,  and  that  Samson  certainly  proposed  a  riddle 
to  the  Philistines.  I  am  told  that  riddles  are  common 
in  India  now. 

7th.  Proverbs,  in  ptoee  and  in  veise^  of  which 
1515  were  printed  in  1819,  and  many  more  are  still 
to  be  got.  Many  are  evidently  veiy  old  from  their 
constniction,  and  some  are  explained  by  the  stories^  for 
example,  ''Blackberries  in  Februaiy"  has  no  very 
evident  meaning,  but  a  long  story  explain,  that  diffl- 
culties  may  be  vanquished.  A  kin^s  son  was  sent  by 
a  stepmother  to  get ''  that  which  grew,  and  is  neither 
crooked  nor  straight" — (sawdust).  ''  Blackberries  in 
February,"  which  he  found  growing  in  a  charnel-house, 
and  a  tMrd  thing,  equally  easy  to  find  when  the  way 
was  known. 

8th.  There  are  songs,  of  which  there  are  a  vast 
number,  published  and  unpublished,  of  all  sorts  and 
kinds,  sung  to  wild  and  peculiar  tunes.  They  are  con- 
demned and  forbidden  in  some  districts,  and  are 
vanishing  rapidly  from  alL  These  used  to  be  sung 
continually  within  my  recollection,  and  many  of  them 
are  wild,  and,  to  my  ear,  beautifuL  There  are  songs 
composed  in  a  particular  rhythm  for  rowing,  for  washing 
clothes  by  dancing  on  them;  songs  whose  rhythm 
resembles  a  piobroch ;  love  songs  ;  war  songs  ;  songs 
which  aro  nearly  all  chorus,  and  which  are  composed 
as  they  are  sung.  The  composer  gives  out  a  single 
line  applicable  to  anything  then  present,  and  the 
chorus  fiUs  up  the  time  by  singing  and  clapping  hands, 
till  the  second  line  is  propared.  I  have  known  such 
lines.fired  at  a  sportsman  by  a  bevy  of  girls  who  wero 


orrsoDUcnoK.  xhr 

wanlking  blankets  in  a  byie,  and  who  made  the  gon 
and  the  dog  the  theme  of  sereral  stanzas.  Beid's 
Bibliotheca  Sooto  Celtics,  1832,  giyes  a  list  of  eightj- 
one  Oaelio  books  of  poetiy  printed  since  1785.  ^exe 
are  hymn  books,  song  books,  and  poetry,  composed  by 
known  and  unknown  bards,  male  and  femala  Of  the 
former,  Mackenzie,  in  his  beauties  of  Qaelic  poetry, 
gÌTes  a  list  of  thirty-two,  with  specimens  of  their  works 
and  a  short  biography.  Of  the  latter  class,  the  un- 
known poets,  there  are  many  at  the  present  day,  and 
who  is  to  guess  their  number  in  times  when  men  did 
nothing  but  fight  and  sing  about  their  batUes.  A  Tery 
few  of  these  bards  haTe  become  known  to  the  world 
by  name,  and,  in  all  probability  their  merits  never 
fdll  be  known.  Let  any  one  translate  Sir  Patrick 
Spans  or  Annie  Laurie  into  French  or  Greek,  or  read 
a  French  translation  of  Waverley,  and  the  effect  of 
translation  on  such  compositions  will  be  eyident 

9th.  The  romantic  popular  tales  of  which  this 
ooUection  mainly  consists. 

I  presume  that  I  have  said  enough  as  to  their  col- 
lection, and  that  I  may  now  point  out  what  seems  to 
me  to  be  their  bearing  on  the  scientific  part  of  the  sub- 
ject ;  that  1  may  take  them  as  traditions,  and  argue 
from  them  as  from  established  facts.  I  have  endea- 
Toured  to  show  how,  when,  and  where  I  got  the 
stories  ;  each  has  its  own  separate  pedigree,  and  I  hare 
given  the  original  Gaelic,  with  the  closest  translation 
which  I  was  able  to  maka 

Now,  let  me  mention  the  works  in  which  I  hare 
found  similar  tales,  and  which  are  within  the  reach  of 
all  who  can  read  English.  First — ^Tales  from  the  Norse, 
translated  by  G.  W.  Dasent,  published  1859.  Many  of 
the  Gaelic  tales  collected  in  1859  resemble  these  veiy 
closely.    The  likeness  is  pointed  out  in  the  notes. 


J 


xItL  iNTBODUonoir. 

It  is  impoedble  that  the  book  could  have  become 
known  to  the  people  who  told  the  stories  within  the 
time,  but  if  it  weie^  a  manuscript  which  has  been  lent 
to  me  by  the  translator,  proves  that  the  stories  were 
known  in  Scotland  before  the  translation  from  the 
Norse  was  made  public. 

It  is  a  yerbatim  copy  made  by  a  clergyman  from  a 
collection  of  fourteen  tales,  gathered  by  "Peter 
Buchan,  editor  of  the  Andont  Ballads  and  Songs  of 
the  North  of  Scotland."  It  is  dated  1847,  Glas^w ; 
and  signed,  Alexander  B.  Grosart.  The  tales  are 
written  in  English,  and  yersions  of  all  except  three, 
had  preyiously  come  to  me  in  Ghielic  For  example, 
(No.  2\  The  Battle  of  the  Birds  closely  resembles  ''  The 
Master  Maid"  from  Norway,  but  it  still  more  resem- 
bles Mr.  Peter  Buchan's  "  Greensleeves^'*  found  in 
Scotland  thirteen  years  before  the  Norse  tales  were 
translated*  Hie  manuscript  was  sent  by  Mr.  Grosart^ 
after  he  had  read  the  Norse  tales^  and  it  seems  to  be 
clearly  proved  that  these  stories  are  common  to  Nor- 
way and  to  Scotland. 

I  have  found  very  few  stories  of  the  kind  amongst 
the  peasantry  of  the  low  country,  though  I  have  sought 
them.  I  find  such  names  as  Eingal  in  Mr.  Buchan's 
stories,  and  I  know  them  to  be  common  in  the  islands 
where  the  scene  is  often  laid.  The  languajge  is  not 
that  of  any  peasantry,  and  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  this  collection  is  mostly  derived  from 
Gaelic,  directly  or  indirectly,  perhaps  from  the  shoals 
of  West  Highlanders  and  Irishmen  who  used  to  come 
down  as  shearers  every  harvest^  and  who  are  now 
scattered  all  over  Scotland  as  farm-servants  and  drovers, 
and  settled  in  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow  as  porters.  I 
know  from  one  of  these,  a  drover,  who  goes  every  year 
to  the  south  with  cattle,  that  he  has  often  entertained 


IKTRODUOnOK.  ^vii 

lowkiid  fann-MnraniB  by  tellÌDg  in  English  the  stories 
which  he  learned  as  a  child  in  South  Uist  I  know 
of  men  in  Paisley,  Greenock,  and  Edinbuigh,  who  are 
noted  for  their  knowledge  of  sgeulachd.  But  while 
I  hold  that  this  particular  coUection  was  not  told  in 
this  form  by  lowland  Scotch  peasants,  I  know  that  they 
ftill  do  tell  such  stories  occasionally,  and  I  also  know 
that  Englishmen  of  the  lower  ranks  do  the  same.  I 
met  two  tinkers  in  St.  James*s  Street  in  Februaiy,  with 
black  faces  and  a  pan  of  burning  coals  each.  They 
were  followed  by  a  wife^  and  preceded  by  a  mangy, 
terrier  with  a  stilT  tail  I  joined  the  party,  and  one 
told  me  a  yersion  of  ''  the  man  who  travelled  to  learn 
what  shÌTering  meant,**  while  we  walked  together 
through  the  park  to  Westminster.  It  was  clearly  the 
popular  tale  which  exists  in  Norse,  and  German,  and 
Gaelic,  and  it  bore  the  stamp  of  the  mind  of  the  class, 
and  of  the  man,  who  told  it  in  his  own  peculiar  dialect, 
and  who  dressed  the  actors  in  his  own  idea&  A 
cutler  and  a  tinker  traTel  together,  and  sleep  in  an 
empty  haunted  house  for  a  reward.  They  are  beset  by 
^oets  and  spirits  of  murdered  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
and  the  inferior,  the  tinker,  shows  most  courage,  and 
la  the  hero.  ^  He  went  into  the  cellar  to  draw  beer, 
and  there  he  found  a  little  chap  a-sittin'  on  a  barrel 
with  a  red  cap  on  'is  'ed ;  and  ses  he,  sez  he,  '  Buzs.' 
*Wot*s  buzsf*  sez  the  tinker.  'Never  you  mind 
wot*s  buzz,'  sez  ha  'That's  mine ;  don't  you  go  for 
to  touch  it,' "  etc.  etc  etc 

In  a  less  degree  many  are  like  the  German  stories 
of  the  brothers  Grimm.  That  coUection  has  been 
translated,  and  a  book  so  well  known  may  possibly  have 
found  its  way  into  the  Highlands.  It  is  impossible  to 
speak  with  certainty  ;  but  when  all  the  narrators  agree 
in  saying  that  they  have  known  their  stories  all  their 


UTei^  and  when  the  Tariatioii  it  to  Buokady  the  lesem- 
l^anoe  b  lalher  to  be  aftlnbiited  to  eoniBon  origin  than 
to  booka  I  only  onee  heaid  of  aoeh  a  bode  in  the 
Highlaniii  It  waa  given  to  a  gameke^er  in  Sntfaer- 
land  for  bia  ebildraiy  and  waa  oondflnined,  and  put 
oat  of  the  way  as  traab. 

The  Gaelic  atoiiea  reaemble  in  aome  few  caaea  the 
well-known  talea  of  Hana  Anderaen,  founded  on  popn* 
lar  tales  told  in  Denmark. 

And  they  reaemble  aundrj  other  booka  which  are 
ayowedl  J  founded  on  popular  talea  collected  in  -varioua 
countries. 

Some  are  like  the  French  tales  of  the  Counteaa 
lyAulnoj,  which  have  been  translated.  One  is  like 
part  of  Shakspeare,  but  it  is  still  more  like  the  Italian 
story  in  Boccaccio^  from  which  part  of  Cymbeline  is  sup- 
posed to  be  taken.  Perhaps  Shakapeare  may  have 
founded  Cymbeline  on  a  popular  tale  then  current  in 
England  as  well  as  in  Italy. 

A  few  resemble  the  Arabian  Nights,  and  in  some 
cases  I  believe  that  the  stories  haye  been  derived  from 
early  English  translations  of  that  well-known  book.  I 
used  myself  to  read  an  edition  of  1815  to  my  piper 
guardian,  in  return  for  his  ursgeuls,  but  he  seemed 
more  inclined  to  blame  the  tyranny  of  the  kings  than 
to  admire  the  Eastern  stories. 

MacLean  has  himself  told  the  story  of  Aladdin  in 
Gkielic  as  his  share  of  a  winter  night's  entertainment^ 
and  I  have  heard  of  several  people  of  the  poorer  class 
who  know  the  Arabian  Nights  welL  But  such  stories 
are  easily  known  after  a  little  experience  has  been 
gained.  The  whole  of  a  volume  is  run  together,  the 
incidents  follow  in  their  order,  or  in  something  like  it 
The  difference  in  style  is  as  marked  as  the  contrast 
between  a  drift  tree  and  a  wrecked  vessel,  but  as  it 


HfTBODUOTIOK.  xlÌX 

is  curioas  to  trace  the  change  from  Eastern  ways  as 
seen  through  an  English  translation'of  a  French  yiew 
of  the  orighial  Arabic,  I  give  specimens.  These  contain 
the  incidents  embodied  in  stories  in  the  Arabian  Nights^ 
bat  the  whole  machinery  and  decoration,  manners  and 
cnstomsy  are  now  as  completely  West  Highland  as  if 
the  tales  had  grown  thera  But  for  a  camel  which 
appeaiBi  I  wonld  almost  give  up  my  opinion,  and  adopt 
that  of  MacLean,  who  holds  that  even  these  are 
pore  traditions. 

In  support  of  his  view  it  may  be  said  that  there 
■re  hundreds  of  other  books  as  well  known  in  England 
as  those  mentioned  above,  of  which  neither  I  nor  my 
ooUectors  have  ever  found  a  trace.  Jack  and  the 
Bean-stalk,  and  Jack  the  Giant-killer,  Beauty  and  the 
Beast^  and  the  Sleeping  Beauty  in  the  Wood,  as  known 
in  England,  are  unknown  in  the  Highlands.  None  of 
the  adventures  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  or  Sam  Weller,  or 
Jack  Shepherd,  or  Qulliver,  or  Bolnnson  Crusoe,  are 
mixed  up  with  the  prose  tales.  No  part  of  the  story 
of  Wallace,  as  tokl  in  the  *'  Scottish  chiefs^"  or  of 
**  Waverley,**  is  to  be  found  in  popular  history.  There 
is  nothing  like  ''The  Mysteries  of  London."  There 
are  none  of  the  modem  horrors  of  which  ballads  have 
been  made,  such  as  ''Sad  was  the  day  when  James 
Oreenscre  first  got  acquainted  with  Sarah  Gala" 
There  are  no  gorgeous  palaces,  and  elegant  fiairies  ; 
thsre  are  no  enclianters  flying  in  chariots  drawn  by 
winged  griffins ;  there  are  no  gentle  knights  and  noble 
dames ;  no  spruce  cavaliers  and  well-dressed  ladies ; 
no  heroes  and  heroines  ot  fashionable  novels ;  but,  on 
the  contrary,  everything  is  popular.  Heroes  are  as 
wild,  and  unkempt^  and  savage  as  they  probably  were 
in  fact,  and  kings  are  men  as  they  appear  in  Lane's 
translations  of  the  Arabian  Nights. 


1  '  INTBODUOTIOV. 

Eastern  tale  tellers  knew  what  Haioun  al  Baschid 
must  haye  Buffered  when  he  put  on  the  fisherman's 
clothes,  and  Mr.  Lane  has  not  scrupled  to  follow  the 
original  Arahio. 

If  the  people  of  the  West  Highlands  have  added 
book  stories  to  their  traditions,  they  have  selected 
those  only  which  were  taken  from  peasants  like  them- 
selves in  other  countries,  and  they  have  stripped  off  all 
that  was  foreign  to  their  own  mannora  llie  people 
have  but  taken  back  their  own. 

Besides  books  accessible  to  all  English  readers,  I 
find  similar  stories  in  books  beyond  the  reach  of  Ìhe 
people.  •  I  haye  pointed  out  in  the  notes  all  that  were 
within  my  reach,  and  came  under  my  notice ;  but  this 
part  of  the  subject  is  a  study,  and  requires  time  to 
acquire  knowledge  which  I  do  not  possess. 

Such,  then,  is  the  eyidence  which  bears  on  the 
immediate  origin  of  the  stories.  I  belieye  them  to  be 
pure  traditions,  yery  little  affected  by  modem  books, 
and,  if  at  all,  only  by  those  which  are  avowedly  taken 
from  popular  tales.  A  trip  of  five  days  in  the  Isle  of 
Man  in  April  1860  has  but  confirmed  this  opinion. 

That  island,  in  spite  of  its  numerous  rulers,  is  still 
peculiarly  Celtic.  It  has  belonged  to  Norwegians.  Eng- 
lish, Scotch,  Welsli,  and  Irish  have  fought  for  it  It 
has  a  Law  Court  with  a  Norwegian  name  held  on  a 
mound ;  half  the  names  in  the  island  are  Norse,  such  as 
Laxey  (Salmon  isthmus),  Langness,  Snafell ;  but  these 
names  are  not  understood  by  the  people  who  live  at 
the  places.  Feel  has  a  descriptive  Caelic  name,  which 
means  island  port ;  a  Salmon  is  Braddan,  not  Lax;  and 
of  the  poorer  classes  living  in  the  mountain  farms,  and 
on  the  points  and  distant  comers  of  the  island,  there 
are  still  many  who  can  hardly  speak  anything  but 
Manks.    Their  hair  is  dark ;  the  sound  of  their  voices. 


IKTBODUOnON.  li 

ereii  thmr  houBeSy  are  Celtic  I  know  one  tàrf  dwelling 
which  might  be  a  house  in  North  TJiai  There  was  the 
fire  on  the  floor,  the  children  seated  around  it»  the 
black  haired  Celtic  mother  on  a  low  stool  in  fronts — 
the  hens  quarrelling  about  a  nest  under  the  table,  in 
which  several  wanted  to  lay  eggs  at  once. 

"*  Qet  out»  Polly  !  Drive  her  out»  John  ! "  And 
then  John,  the  son,  drove  out  PoUy,  the  hen,  with  a 
stick;  and  the  hen  said, ''  Gurr-r-m;"  and  ran  in  under 
the  table  again  and  said,  *^  Cluck,  duck,*'  and  laid  the 
^gg  then  and  tiiero.  Hiere  was  the  same  kindly,  hospi- 
table manner  in  tiie  poorest  cottage ;  and  I  soon  found 
thai  a  Scotch  Highlander  could  speak  Manks  as  soon  as 
he  could  acquire  the  art  of  mispronouncing  his  own  lan- 
guage to  the  right  amount^  and  learn  where  to  introduce 
the  proper  English  word.  "  La  fine  " — ^fine  day — was 
the  salutation  eveiywhere ;  and  the  reply,  "fine,  fine." 
But  though  nouns  are  almost  the  same,  and  the  lan- 
guage is  but  a  dialect  of  Caelic,  the  foreigner  was 
incomprehensible,  because  he  could  not  pronounce  as 
they  did ;  and  I  was  reduced  to  English.  Now  this 
island  is  visited  every  summer  by  shoals  of  visitors 
from  the  mainland ;  steam-boats  bring  them  from 
Liverpool,  a  thousand  at  a  time,  and  they  sweep  over  the 
whole  country.  If  visitors  import  stories,  here,  there 
are  plenty  of  strangers,  and  I  was  a  stranger  mysel£ 
If  stories  are  imported  in  books,  here  are  the  books  also. 
The  first  picture  I  saw  on  landing  was  a  magnificent  Blue- 
beard in  a  shop  window.  He  was  dressed  as  an  Eastern 
potentate,  and  about  to  slice  off  his  wife*s  head  with  a 
crooked  scimitar,  while  the  two  brothers  rode  up  to  the 
gate  on  prancing  steeds,  with  horror  on  their  faces  and 
swords  in  their  hands.  But  there  was  not  a  trace  of 
any  of  that  kind  of  story  to  be  found  amongst  the 
peasants  with  whom  I  spoke  in  Uie  Isle  of  Man. 


lil  INTBODUOnOir. 

I  found  ihem  willing  to  talk,  eager  to  question, 
kindly,  homely  folk,  with  whom  it  was  easy  to  begin 
an  acquaintance.  I  heard  everywhere  that  it  uaed  to 
be  common  to  hear  old  men  telling  stories  about  the 
fire  in  Manks;  but  any  attempt  to  extract  a  story, 
or  search  out  a  queer  old  custom,  or  a  half-forgotten 
belief,  seemed  to  act  as  a  pinch  of  snuff  does  on  a 

The  Manksman  would  not  trust  the  foreigner 
with  his  secrets ;  his  eye  twinkled  suspiciously,  and 
his  hand  seemed  unconsciously  to  grasp  his  mouth,  as 
if  to  keep  all  fast  After  getting  quite  at  ease  with 
one  old  fellow  over  a  pipe,  and  having  learned  that  a 
neighbour's  cow  had  born  a  calf  to  the  ''Taroo  ustey,*' 
water  bull,  I  thought  I  might  fish  for  a  stoiy,  and  told 
one  as  a  bait. 

''That  man,  if  he  had  two  pints,  would  teU  you 
stories  by  the  hour,"  said  a  boy.  ''  Oh,  yes^  they  used 
to  tell  plenty  of  stories,*'  said  the  old  man,  ''  Skyll  as 
we  call  them." 

Here  was  the  very  word  mispronounced,  "  ggeul,'' 
so  my  hopes  rose,  ''  Will  you  tell  me  a  story  now  f " 
"  Have  you  any  churches  in  your  country  t"  "  Yes, 
and  chapels ;  but  will  you  tell  me  a  story  f*  **  What 
you  got  to  sell  in  your  bag  f '  "  What  a  shame  now, 
for  you,  an  old  mananach,  not  to  tell  me  a  story  when 
I  have  told  you  one,  and  filled  your  pipe  and  all.'* 
"  What  do  you  pay  for  the  tobacco  T  "  Oh,  will  you 
not  tell  the  man  a  story  1"  said  the  boy.  "  I  must  go 
and  saw  now,"  said  the  old  man ;  and  so  we  parted. 

But  though  this  was  the  usual  thing,  it  was  not 
always  so ;  and  it  soon  became  evident  Uiat  the  stories 
given  in  Train's  history  of  the  Isle  of  Man,  are  nearly 
all  known  to  the  people  now ;  and  these  are  of  the 
same  nature  as  some  known  in  the  Highlands  of  Scot- 


INTBODUOnON.  liii 

land  ;  some  are  almost  identical ;  and  nearly  all  the 
Manka  ctutoma  are  common  to  the  Western  lalea 

Thus  I  heard  of  Fairies,  ''Ferìsh,"  who  liye  in  green 
mounds,  and  are  heard  at  times  dressing  mill-stones  in 
hanntod  mills ;  of  Taroo  Ustey,  the  water  bull ;  of 
Vinny  Mara^  the  sea  man,  and  of  the  Mermaid  ;  of 
CaTal  TJstey,  the  water  horse  ;  of  Fion  MacGooil ;  of 
a  city  under  the  waves  ;  of  a  magic  island  seen  in  the 
far  west  I  heard  of  giants.  No  one  would  tell 
about  them ;  but  in  a  book  I  found  how  Goddard 
Crovan  threw  a  vast  boulder  at  his  scolding  wife, 
and  how  a  Norman  baron,  named  ''Eitter'*  and 
his  oook ;  "  Eaoch,"  and  his  magic  sword,  "  Macubain," 
made  by  **  Loan  Maclibhuin,  the  dark  smith  of  Dron- 
theim ;"  and  "  Hiallus-nan-urd,  the  one-legged  hammer- 
man**—are  all  woven  into  a  story,  and  mixed  up  with 
such  Norwegian  names  as  Olave  and  Emeigaid,  exactly 
as  a  story  is  jumbled  together  in  the  Western  Isles  of 
Scotknd. 

I  got  some  stories  which  I  have  not  found  in  the 
Manks  books,  so  I  give  them  hero,  in  the  hope  that 
some  Manksman  may  be  induced  to  gather  the  popu- 
lar lore  of  his  own  country.  This  fiom  a  woman  who 
lives  near  the  Calf  of  Man. 

*"  Did  you  ever  hear  tell  of  the  GlashanT 

"^  No ;  tell  me  about  the  Olashan." 

**  Well,  j<m  lee,  in  the  old  timee  Uiej  need  to  be  keeping  tke 
•beep  in  tbe  folds ;  and  one  night  aa  old  man  forgot  to  pat  them 
in,  and  be  eent  oot  hit  eon,  and  he  came  back  and  laid  the  sheep 
were  all  folded,  bat  there  was  a  jear-old  lamb,  oasht  plajing  the 
Buisohief  with  them ;  and  that  was  the  glashan. 

**  Too  see  thej  were  Tery  strong,  and  when  thej  wanted  a 
•tack  threshed,  thoagh  it  was  a  whole  stack,  the  glashan  woold 
haTS  it  threehed  for  them  in  one  night 

**  And  thej  were  running  after  the  women.  There  was  one 
of  thsii  0B09  eanght  a  girl,  and  had  a  hoald  of  her  by  the  drees, 


lÌT  nfTRODUOTIOir. 

and  ht  sat  down  and  ha  fell  aaleep ;  and  then  ahe  cnt  awaj  all 
the  dreae,  joa  aee,  roond  about,  thia  waj,  and  left  it  in  hia  fiat 
and  ran  awajr ;  and  when  he  awoke,  he  threw  what  he  had  over 
hie  ehonlder,  thia  wajr ;  and  he  aaid  (eomething  in  Hanka  which 
I  oonld  not  catch). 

**  Well,  jTon  aee,  one  night  the  onld  fellow  tent  aD  the  women 
to  bed,  and  he  pat  on  a  cap  and  a  woman'i  drees,  and  he  sat 
down  bjT  the  fire  and  he  began  to  ipin ;  and  the  jonng  glaebans, 
thejr  came  in,  and  they  began  eaying  something  in  Manka  that 
meant  *  Are  yon  tnming  the  wheel  ?  are  yon  trying  the  reel  ?* 
Well,  the  onld  glathan,  he  wae  ontaide,  and  be  knew  better  than 
the  young  onee ;  he  knew  it  wae  the  onld  feUow  himeelf,  and  he 
wae  telling  them,  but  they  did  not  mind  him ;  and  ao  the  onld 
man  threw  a  lot  of  hot  torf,  yon  see,  it  wae  turf  they  burned  then, 
OTer  them  and  homed  them ;  and  the  onld  one  said  (something 
in  Hanks).  *  fon'll  not  nnderstand  that,  now?*  *Tes,  I  do, 
pretty  nearly.'  *  Ah,  well.*  And  so  the  glashans  went  away  and 
nerer  came  back  any  more.'* 

«« IlaTe  yon  many  stories  like  that,  gnidwife  T  *•  Ah,"  said 
ahe,  '*  there  were  plenty  of  people  that  could  tell  these  stories 
onoe.  When  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  used  to  hear  them  telling  them 
in  Hanks  OTer  the  fire  at  night ;  but  people  is  so  changed  with 
pride  now  that  they  care  for  nothing.*' 

Now  here  is  a  story  whioh  is  all  over  the  High- 
lands in  various  shapes.  Sometimes  it  is  a  BroUichan 
son  of  the  Fnaih,  or  a  young  water  horse  transformed  into 
the  likeness  of  a  man,  which  attacks  a  lonely  woman, 
and  gets  burned  or  scalded,  and  goes  away  to  his 
fiiends  outside.  In  the  islands,  the  woman  generaUy 
says  her  name  is  myself;  and  the  goblin  answers, 
when  asked  who  burned  him,  **  mysell"  This  Manks 
story  is  manifestly  the  same,  though  this  incident  is 
left  out  I  have  heard  it  in  Lewes^  and  in  many  places 
besides,  and  part  of  it  is  best  omitted. 

The  Glashan,  sa  I  found  out  afterwards,  frequented 
neighbouring  &rms  till  within  a  very  late  period.  He 
wore  np  clothes^  and  was  hairy ;  and,  according  to 


IHTHODUOnOK.  !▼ 

Train's  histoTy,  Phynoddepee,  which  means  something 
hairy,  was  frightened  away  by  a  gift  of  clothes,— - 
exactly  as  the  Skipness  long-haired  Gmagaoh  was 
frightened  away  by  the  offer  of  a  coat  and  a  cap.  The 
Manks  brownie  and  the  Argyllshire  one  each  repeated 
a  rhyme  over  the  clothes  ;  but  the  rhymes  are  not  the 
same,  though  they  amount  to  the  same  thing. 

Here,  then,  is  a  Gaelic  popular  tale  and  belief  in 
Man  ;  and  dose  to  it  I  found  a  story  which  has  a 
counterpart  in  Grimm.  I  heard  it  from  my  landlady 
at  Port  &in,  and  I  met  two  Manksmen  afterwards  who 
knew  it — 

**  The  fish  all  gathered  onoe  to  choose  a  king ;  aod  the  flake. 
Mm  that  has  the  red  spots  on  him,  stajed  at  home  to  make  himself 
pretty,  potting  on  his  red  spots,  to  see  if  he  would  he  king,  and  he 
was  too  late,  for  when  he  came  the  herring  was  king  of  the  sea. 
80  the  flnke  ended  his  month  on  one  side,  and  said,  '  A  simple 
fish  like  the  herring,  king  of  the  sea  I*  and  his  month  has  heen  to 
one  tide  ever  sinoe.'* 

It  seems,  too,  that  the  Manks  version  of  ''Jack 
the  Oiant  Killer  "  varies  from  the  English  ;  for 

''Jack  the  Giant  Killer," 

"  Varv  a  Vuchd  in  the  river," 
killed  a  pig  ii^  the  river;  and  the  Fjiglish  hero  did 
nothing  of  the  sort  In  short,  the  Isle  of  Man  has  its 
own  legends,  which  have  their  own  peculiarities ;  they 
resemble  others,  and  do  not  seem  to  be  taken  from  booka 
The  same  class  of  people  tell  them  there  as  elsewhere ; 
the  difficulty  of  getting  at  them  is  the  same ;  aild  the  key 
to  the  secret  is  the  native  language.  From  what  I  gleaned 
in  a  five  days'  walk,  I  am  sure  that  a  good  Manksman 
might  yet  gather  a  large  harvest  within  a  very  narrow 
space.     And  now  to  return  to  my  own  subject 

I  find  that  men  of  all  ranks  resemble  each  other ; 
that  each  branch  of  popular  lore  has  its  own  special 


Ivi  INTBODnOTIOir. 

Totariefl^  as  branches  of  literatore  have  amongst  the 
learned;  that  one  man  is  the  peasant  historian  and  tells 
of  the  battles  of  the  clans ;  another,  a  walking  peerage, 
who  knows  the  descent  of  most  of  the  families  in 
Scotland,  and  all  about  his  neighbours  and  their 
origin;  others  are  romancers,  and  tell  about  the 
giants ;  others  are  moralists^  and  prefer  the  sagacious 
prose  tales^  which  have  a  meaning,  and  might  haye  a 
moral ;  a  few  know  the  history  of  the  Feni,  and  are 
antiquarians.  Many  despise  the  whole  as  Myolities ; 
they  are  practical  modems,  and  answer  to  practical 
men  in  other  ranks  of  society. 

But  though  each  prefers  his  own  subject,  the  best 
Highland  story-tellers  know  specimens  of  all  kinds. 
Start  them,  and  it  seems  as  if  they  would  never  stop. 
I  timed  one,  and  he  spoke  for  an  hour  without  pause 
or  hesitation,  or  yerbal  repetition.  His  story  was 
Connall  Gulban,  and  he  said  he  could  repeat  fourscore. 
He  recited  a  poem,  but  despised  *'  Bardism ; "  and  he 
foUowed  me  six  miles  in  the  dark  to  my  inn,  to  tell 
me  numbers  19  and  20,  which  I  have  condensed ;  for 
the  very  same  thing  can  be  shortly  told  when  it  is  not 
a  composition.     For  example* 

In  tolling  a  story,  narratiye  and  dialogue  are 
mixed ;  what  the  characters  have  told  each  other  to  do 
is  repeated  as  narrative.  The 'people  in  the  story  teU 
it  to  each  other,  and  branch  off  into  discussions  about 
their  horses  and  houses  and  crops,  or  anything  that 
happens  to  turn  up.  One  story  grows  out  of  another, 
and  the  tree  is  almost  hidden  by  a  foliage  of  the 
speaker^s  invention.  Here  and  there  comes  a  passage 
repeated  by  rote,  and  common  to  many  stories,  and  to 
every  good  narrator.  It  seems  to  act  as  a  rest  for  the 
memory.  Now  and  then,  an  observation  from  the 
audience  starts  an  argument     In  shorty  one  good  story 


INTBODUCmON.  ]yii 

in  the  month  of  a  good  narrator,  with  a  good  andienoe, 
might  easily  go  rambling  on  for  a  whole  winter's  night, 
as  it  is  said  to  do. 

The  ^  Slim  Swarthy  Champion  nsed  to  last  for  fonr 
hoars."  Connall  Onlban  ''  nsed  to  last  for  three  even- 
ings. Those  that  wanted  to  hear  the  end  had  to  come 
bacL**  One  of  my  collectors  said  it  would  take  him 
amonth  to  write  it  down,  but  I  am  bound  to  add  that 
he  has  since  done  it  in  a  very  much  shorter  tima 
I  haye  heard  of  a  man  who  fell  asleep  by  the  fire, 
and  found  a  story  going  on  when  he  awoke  next 
morning.  I  have  one  fragment  on  which  (as  I  am 
told)  an  old  man  in  Hoss-shire  used  to  found  twenty- 
four  stories,  all  of  which  died  with  him. 

There  are  varieties  in  public  speakers  amongst  the 
people  as  amongst  their  representatives^  for  some  are 
eloquent,  some  terse,  some  prosy. 

But  though  a  tale  may  be  spun  out  to  any  extent^ 
the  very  same  incidents  can  be,  and  often  are,  told  in 
a  few  words,  and  those  tales  which  have  been  written 
for  me  are  fair  representations  of  them  as  Uioy  are 
usually  told.  They  are  like  a  good  condensed  report 
of  a  rambling  speech,  with  extraneous  matter  left  out 
One  narrator  said  of  the  longest  stoty  which  I  had  then 
got — *'  It  is  but  the  contents  ;**  but  I  have  more  than 
once  asked  a  narrator  to  tell  me  the  stoty  which 
he  had  previously  told  to  one  of  my  coUectors,  and 
a  coUector  to  write  down  a  story  which  I  had  pre- 
viously heard,  and  I  have  always  found  the  pith, 
often  the  very  words.  In  no  instance  have  I  found 
anything  added  by  those  whom  I  employed,  when 
their  work  was  subjected  to  this  severe  test 

This  is  the  account  which  one  of  my  coUectors 
gives  of  the  old  customs  of  his  class — ^he  is  a  workman 
employed  by  the  Duke  of  Argyll ;  he  tells  me  that  he 

d 


Iviii  INTRODUOnON. 

is  self-educated ;  and  as  he  repeats  some  of  the  stories 
which  he  has  written,  from  memory,  his  account  of  the 
way  in  which  he  acquired  them  is  valuahle. 

I  remember,  opwardi  of  fiftj  jeaurs  ago,  when  I  waa  a  boy,  mj 
father  lived  in  the  farett  north  honae,  in  the  vallej  called  Qlen-nm 
Callanach.  I  alao  uaed  to  be  with  my  graiifather;  he  lived 
near  Terbert,  Lochlomond  aide.  I  remember,  in  the  winter 
nighta,  when  a  few  old  people  would  be  togathor,  they  wonid 
pasa  the  time  with  telling  each  other  stories,  which  they  had  by 
tradition.  I  used  to  listen  attentively,  and  hear  them  telling 
about  the  oeathamaich,  or  freebooters,  which  used  to  come  to 
plunder  the  country,  and  take  away  cattle ;  and  how  their  an- 
cestors would  gather  themselTes  togatlier  to  fight  for  their  pro- 
perty, the  battlea  they  fought,  and  the  kind  of  weapona  they  uaed 
to  fight  with ;  the  manners  of  their  ancestors,  the  dress  they  used 
to  wear,  and  different  hardships  they  had  to  endure. 

I  waa  also  sometimes  amused,  listening  to  some  people  telling 
Gaelic  romancea,  which  we  called  ageulachda.  It  waa  cuatomary 
for  a  few  youngsters  to  gather  into  one  house,  and  whither  idle 
or  at  some  work,  such  as  kniting  stockings  or  spinning,  they  would 
amuse  each  other  with  some  innocent  diversion,  or  telling  sgeul- 
achda.  Ua  that  was  chieldren  was  very  fond  of  listening  to 
them,  and  the  aervant  maid  that  was  in  my  father'a  house  would 
often  tell  us  a  ageulachd  to  keep  us  queit. 

In  those  days,  when  people  killed  their  Marte  cow  they  keept 
the  hide,  and  tanned  it  for  leather  to  themselves.  In  thoso  days 
every  houso  was  furnished  with  a  wheel  and  a  reel ;  the  women 
spun,  and  got  their  webs  woven  by  a  neighbouring  weaver ;  also, 
the  women  was  dyers  for  themselves,  so  that  the  working  class 
had  their  leather,  their  linen,  and  their  cloth  of  their  own  manu- 
facturing ;  and  when  they  required  the  help  of  a  shoemaker,  or 
of  a  tailor,  they  would  send  for  them.  The  tailors  and  shoe- 
makers went  from  house  to  house,  to  work  wherever  they  were 
required,  and  by  travelling  the  country  so  much,  got  aquaint 
with  a  great  maney  of  the  traditionary  talea,  and  divulged  them 
through  the  country ;  and  as  the  counti7  people  made  the  telling 
of  these  tales,  and  listening  to  hear  them,  their  winter  night's 
amusement,  scarcely  aney  part  of  them  would  be  lost.    Some  of 


nVTRODUCnOR.  lix 

Um06  romances  if  rapposed  to  be  of  great  antiquity,  on  account 
of  tome  of  the  Qaelic  words  being  oat  of  nse  now.  I  remember, 
aboat  fortj  Tears  ago,  of  being  in  company  with  a  man  that  waa 
watching  at  night ;  he  wished  me  to  stop  with  bim,  and  he  told 
me  a  (sgenlachd)  romance ;  and  last  year  1  heard  a  man  telling 
the  same  story,  abont  thertj  miles  distante  from  where  I  had 
heard  it  told  forty  years  before  that ;  and  the  man  which  told 
me  the  tale  coald  not  tell  me  the  meaning  of  son^e  of  the  old 
Gaelic  words  that  was  in  it.  At  first  I  thought  they  were  foreign 
words,  hat  at  last  I  recollected  to  hare  heard  some  of  them  re- 
peated in  Ossian*s  poems,  and  it  was  hy  the  words  that  was 
before,  and  after  them,  that  I  anderstood  the  meaning  of  them. 
The  same  man  told  me  another  story,  which  ho  said  he  learned 
from  his  granfalher,  and  Denmark,  Swedden,  and  Noraway  was 
named  in  it  in  Gaelic,  bat  he  forgot  the  name  of  the  two  last- 
named  places. 

It  appears  likely  to  me,  that  some  of  these  tales  was  inrented 
by  the  Draids,  and  told  to  the  people  as  sermons ;  and  by  these 
tales  the  people  was  caosed  to  belioTe  that  there  was  fairies  which 
lÌTed  in  little  conical  hills,  and  that  the  fairies  bad  the  power  of 
being  either  TÌsible  or  invisible,  as  they  thought  proper,  and  that 
they  had  the  power  of  enchanting  people,  and  of  taking  them 
away  and  make  fairies  of  them ;  and  that  the  Druids  had  charms 
which  would  prerent  that;  and  thoy  would  giro  these  charms  to  the 
people  for  payment;  and  maney  stories  would  be  told  about  people 
being  taken  away  by  the  fairies,  and  the  charms  which  had  to 
be  used  to  break  the  spell,  and  get  them  back  again  ;  and  others, 
on  aocoont  of  some  neglidgeance,  nerer  got  back  aney  more.   • 

Also  that  there  was  witches ;  people  which  had  communica- 
tion with  an  eril  spirit,  from  which  tbey  got  the  power  of  chang- 
ing themselres  into  aney  shape  tbey  pleased ;  that  these  witches 
often  put  tbemseWes  in  the  shape  of  beasts,  and  when  tbey  were 
in  the  shape  of  beasts,  that  they  bad  some  eTil  design  in  Hew, 
and  that  it  was  dangerous  to  meet  them.  Also  that  they  could, 
and  did,  sometimes  take  away  the  produce  of  people's  dairy,  and 
sometimes  of  the  whole  farm.  The  Druidical  priests  pretended 
that  they  had  charms  that  would  prerent  the  witches  from  doing 
aney  harm,  and  they  would  give  a  charm  for  payment.  When 
the  firtt  day  of  summer  came,  the  people  was  taught  to  put  the 


IZ  IMTBODUOnON. 

fira  out  of  their  hooaci,  and  to  plaoe  it  on  tome  emince  near  tbe 
house  for  to  keep  away  the  wiichoa,  and  that  it  waa  not  lafe  for 
them  to  kindle  a  fire  in  their  house  aiiej  more,  until  they  bought 
it  from  beil*  s  druide.  That  fire  was  called  beiUteine  (beils- 
fire),  and  the  first  day  of  summer  was  called  bell-fires  day ;  and 
also  when  the  first  night  of  winter  came,  the  people  would  gather 
fuel  and  make  hissing  fire  for  to  keep  away  the  witches,  or  at 
least  to  depriTe  them  of  the  power  of  taking  away  the  produce  of 
the  farm,  and  then  they  would  go  to  the  Druid  and  boy  a  kindling 
of  what  was  called  the  holy  fire.  The  Druids  also  caused  the 
people  to  believe  that  some  families  had  been  enchanted  and 
changed  into  beasts,  and  as  the  proper  means  had  not  been  used, 
the  spell  was  never  broken ;  and  that  iiwans,  teals,  and  mar- 
maids  had  been  different  beings,  (amilys  that  had  been  enchanted. 
Beil  or  Beul  was  the  name  which  the  Druids  gave  their  god, 
and  the  Druids  of  Beil  pretended  to  be  the  friends  of  the  people ; 
they  pretended  to  have  charms  to  cure  different  kinds  of  diseases, 
and  also  charms  to  prevent  fairies,  ghosts,  and  witches,  from 
annoying  or  harming  people.  It  is  a  well-known  fact,  that  the 
superstitions  of  the  Druids  has  been  handed  down  from  genera- 
tion to  generation  for  a  great  mauey  ages,  and  is  not  wholy 
extinct  yet ;  and  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  some  of  the  tales, 
which  was  invented  in  those  days  for  to  fright  the  people,  has 
been  told  and  kept  in  rememberance  in  the  self  and  same  manner. 
The  priests  of  Beil  was  the  men  that  was  called  Druids,  the 
miracles  which  they  pretended  to  perform  was  called  meur- 
bheileachd  (beil-fingering),  and  their  magic  which  they  pretended 
to  perform  was  called  druichd  (druidisoro),  and  we  have  plenty 
of  reason  to  believe  superstitious  tales  as  well  as  superstition, 
originated  among  the  Druids.  Johh  Dbwab. 

**  J.  Campbell,  Esq. 
"  Sib — I  hope  you  will  corect  aney  errors  that  you  may  find 
on  this  piece  which  I  wrote.'* 

I  have  corrected  only  two  or  three  errors  in  spelling,  and  the 
writing  is  remarkably  clear,  but  I  have  left  some  words  which 
express  the  Gaelic  pronunciation  of  English. 

The  derivation  of  Miobbhoil,  a  marvd,  firom  the  finger  of 
Bel,  was  suggested  by  Dr.  Smith  (see  Armstrong's  Die.)  J.F.C. 


IMTRODUOnOR.  Ixi 

Now  let  me  reiarn  to  the  cottage  of  old  Macphie, 
where  I  heard  a  version  of  the  Sea-Maiden,  and  let  me 
Biippoee  that  one  of  the  rafters  is  the  drift  log  which  I 
saw  about  to  be  added  to  a  roof  in  the  same  island. 

The  whole  roof  is  covered  with  peat  soot,  but  that 
may  be  scraped  away,  and  the  rough  wood  appears. 
There  are  the  holes  of  boring  sea  shells,  filled  with  sand 
and  marine  products.  It  is  evident  that  the  log  came 
by  sea,  that  it  did  not  come  in  a  ship,  and  that  it  was 
long  enough  in  warm  salt  water  for  the  barnacles  to 
live  and  die,  and  for  their  dwellings  to  be  filled  with 
sea  rubbish ;  that  it  floated  through  latitudes  where 
barnacles  live.  The  fairy  eggs,  wliich  are  picked  up  on 
the  same  shore,  point  to  the  West  Indies  as  a  stage  on 
Uie  way.  Maps  of  ocean  currents  shew  the  gulf- stream 
flowing  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  past  the  Hebrides, 
but  the  tree  is  a  fir,  for  there  is  a  bit  of  bark  which 
proves  the  fact^  and  it  appears  that  pines  grow  between 
40®  and  60®  in  America.  It  is  therefore  possible  that 
tlie  rafter  was  once  an  American  fir  tree,  growing  in  the 
Kocky  Mountains ;  that  it  was  swept  into  the  Mississippi, 
and  carried  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico ;  drifted  by  the  gulf- 
stream  past  the  West  India  Islands  to  the  Hebrides, 
and  stranded  by  a  western  gale  on  its  voyage  to  Spits- 
bergea  But  dl  this  must  have  happened  long  ago,  for 
it  is  now  a  raller  covered  with  the  soot  of  generations. 
That  rafter  is  a  strange  fact,  it  is  one  of  a  series,  and 
has  to  be  accounted  for.  There  it  is,  and  a  probable 
account  of  its  journey  is,  that  it  came  from  East  to 
West  without  the  help  of  man,  in  obedience  to  laws 
which  govern  the  world. 

That  smoked  rafter  certainly  was  once  a  seed  in  a 
fir-cone,  somewhere  abroad  It  grew  to  be  a  pine  tree ; 
it  must  have  been  white  with  snow  in  winter,  and 
green  in  summer,  and  glittering  with  rain  drops  and 


Ixii  INTBODUOnON. 

hoar-fiost  in  bright  sanshine  at  yarions  times  and  8ea- 
aona.  The  number  of  years  it  stood  in  the  forest  can 
be  counted  by  the  rings  in  the  wood  It  is  certain  that 
it  was  torn  up  by  the  roots,  for  the  roots  are  there  stilL 
It  may  haye  formed  a  part  of  one  of  these  wonderful  natu- 
ral rafts  of  the  Mississippi,  of  which  one  in  1816  was  "no 
less  than  ton  miles  in  length,  two  hundred  and  twenty 
yards  wide,  and  eight  feet  deep."*  It  has  boon  to  warm 
seas,  and  has  worn  a  marine  dress  of  groonand  brown  since 
it  lost  its  own  natural  dress  of  green  branches.  Birds 
must  have  sat  on  it  in  the  forest,— crabs  and  shells 
have  liyed  on  it  at  sea,  and  fish  must  have  swam  about 
it ;  and  yet  it  ìb  now  a  rafter,  hung  with  black  pen- 
dants of  peat  smoke.  A  tree  that  grew  beside  it  may 
now  be  in  Spitzbergen  amongst  walrussea.  Another 
may  be  a  snag  in  the  Mississippi  amongst  alligators, 
destined  to  become  a  fossil  tree  in  a  coal  field.  Part 
of  another  may  be  a  Yankee  rocking  chair,  or  it  may 
be  part  of  a  ship  in  any  part  of  the  World,  or  the  tram 
of  a  cart,  or  bit  of  a  carriage,  or  a  wheel-barrow,  or  a 
gate  post^  or  anything  that  can  be  made  of  fir  wood 
anywhere ;  and  the  fate  of  stories  may  be  as  various  as 
that  of  fir  trees,  but  their  course  may  be  guessed  at  by 
running  a  back  scent  overland,  as  I  have  endeavoured 
to  follow  the  voyage  of  a  drift  log  over  sea. 

Macpliie*s  story  began  thus : — **  There  was  a  poor  old 
fisher  in  8kye,  and  his  name  was  Duncan ;  '*  and  every 
version  of  the  story  which  I  have  found  in  the  High- 
lands, and  I  have  found  many,  is  as  highland  as  the 
peat-reek  on  the  rafters.  Tlie  same  story  is  known  in 
many  districts  in  Scotland,  and  it  is  evident^  that  it  has 
been  known  there  for  many  years.  It  is  a  curious  foci 
It  is  worth  the  trouble  of  looking  under  what  is  purely 
highland,  to  see  if  its  origin  can  be  discovered. 

*  Ljèll'i  Principles  of  Qeologj,  p.  267. 


HVTRODUOTIOR.  Iziii 

Fint,  Ìheii,  the  incidents  are  generally  strung  to- 
gether in  a  particular  order  in  the  Highlands,  bnt» 
either  separately  or  together,  every  incident  in  the 
story  is  to  be  found  in  some  shape  in  other  languages. 
Norse  has  it  as  "  Shortshanks.'*  Irish  has  it  German 
has  it  It  is  in  tlie  Italian  of  Straparola  as  **  For- 
tunia'*  In  the  French  of  le  Cabinet  des  Fees,  1785. 
It  is  in  every  language  in  Europe  as  ''Si  George 
and  the  Dragon.**  It  is  in  Mr.  Peter  Buchan*s  English 
of  1847  as  part  of  "  Greensleeves."  It  is  in  ''  Perseus 
and  Andromeda.*'  Tlie  scone  of  tiiat  story  is  placod  in 
Syria,  and  it  is  connected  with  Persia.  There  is 
something  in  Sanscrit  about  Indra,  a  god  who  reco- 
vered the  stolen  cattle  of  the  gods,  but  here  the  scent 
is  very  cold,  and  the  hound  at  faulty  though  it  seems 
that  the  Sanscrit  hero  was  the  sun  personified,  and 
that  he  had  horses  of  many  colours,  including  red  and 
white,  which  were  always  feminine,  as  the  horses  in 
Gaelic  stories  are,  and  which  had  wings  and  flew 
through  the  air.  These  wore  "Svankas,**  with  beautiful 
steps.  *' Iloliitas,**  red  or  brown;  Gaelic,  horses  are 
often  described  as  "  Seang,*'  *'  Kuadh  ;'*  and  here  seems 
to  be  a  due  which  is  worth  the  attention  of  Eastern 
scholars. 

There  is  a  mermaid  in  the  story,  and  mermaids 
are  mentioned  in  Irish,  and  in  Arabic,  and  in  Manks, 
am!  Italian :  men  even  assert  that  they  have  seen  mer- 
maids in  Uio  sea  within  the  last  few  years,  amongst 
the  Hebrides  and  off  Plymouth. 

There  are  creatures,  Falcon,  Wolf  and  lion.  Two 
of  them  were  natives  within  historic  times,  one  is  still ; 
but  the  third  is  a  foreigner.  There  is  an  Otter,  and  a 
Sea  Monster,  and  in  other  tales,  there  are  Bears  and 
Doves,  and  other  animals ;  but  every  one  of  them, 
except  the  monster,  is  to  be  found  on  the  road  to 


IxÌT  INTBODUOnON. 

the  land  where  SauBcrit  was  spoken,  and  all  these,  and 
many  more,  play  their  part  in  popular  tales  elsewhere, 
while  no  real  animal  is  ever  mentioned  which  is  pecu- 
liar to  lands  out  of  the  road  which  leads  overland  to 
India 

Nearly  all  these  have  Gkielic  names,  and  most  of 
them  are  still  living  within  a  few  days'  journey  of  the 
Hebrides  under  other  name&  I  saw  a  live  wolf  from 
a  diligence  one  fine  morning  in  Brittany,  and  I  have 
seen  bears  in  Scandinavia  and  in  Germany.  The 
only  far-fetched  animal  is  the  lion,  and  in  another 
story  a  similar  creature  appears  as  "  Cu  Seang."  Here 
is  a  fresh  scent — for  Sing  is  Lion  in  India — and  may 
once  have  meant  lion  in  Gaelic ;  for  though  Leomh- 
an  is  the  word  now  used,  Seang  is  applied  to  any- 
tiling  slender  and  active.  Shune  is  a  dog  in  Sanscrit^ 
Siunnach  a  fox  in  Gaelic,  and  there  are  many  other 
Gaelic  words  which  point  to  the  "  eastern  origin  of 
Celtic  nationa"  The  story  cannot  have  crossed  the  sea 
from  the  West  It  is  therefore  probable  that  it  came 
from  the  East,  for  it  is  not  of  home  growth,  and  the 
.question  is,  how  did  it  get  to  Barra  Ì 

It  seems  to  have  been  known  along  a  certain  track 
for  many  ages.  It  is  possible  that  it  came  from  the 
far  East  with  the  people,  and  that  it  has  survived  ever 
since.  It  is  hard  to  account  for  it  otherwisei  Those 
who  have  most  studied  the  subject  so  account  for 
popular  tales  elsewhere,  and,  therefore,  John  Macphie's 
story  of  the  Sea-Maiden  acquires  an  interest  not  all  its 
own. 

Much  has  been  written,  and  said,  and  discovered 
about  the  popular  migrations  which  have  poured  from 
East  to  West^  and  which  are  moving  on  still.  Philo- 
logy has  mapped  out  the  course  of  the  human  stream, 
and  here,  in  the  mind  of  an  old  fishermaui  unable  to 


nrTBODUonoN.  Ixr 

ready  or  to  speak  any  language  but  his  own,  is  the  end 
of  a  due  which  seema  to  join  Iran  and  Eiiinn ;  as  a 
Taller  in  his  hut  may  link  him  with  the  Eocky  Moon- 
taina. 

Admit  that  this  ao-called  fiction,  and  others  like  it^ 
nu^  be  traditions,  which  hayo  existed  from  the  earliest 
of  times,  and  every  word  and  incident  acquires  an  in- 
terest, for  it  may  lead  to  something  else. 

Ibe  story  certainly  grew  in  the  mind  of  man,  as  a 
tree  grows  from  a  seed,  but  when  or  where  t  It  has  cer- 
tainly been  told  in  many  languages.  It  is  worth  in- 
quiring how  many  races  have  told  it. 

The  incidents,  like  drift  trees,  have  been  associated 
with  people  and  events,  as  various  as  birds,  fish,  alli- 
gators, walruases,  and  men ;  mountain  ranges,  and  ocean 
currents.  They  have  passed  through  the  minds  of  Ovid 
and  John  ^lacphie.  They  have  been  adorned  by 
poets,  painted  by  artists,  consecrated  by  priests, — 
for  Si  George  is  the  patron  saint  of  England ;  and 
now  we  find  that  which  may  have  sprung  from  some 
quarrel  about  a  cow,  and  which  has  passed  through 
ao  many  changes,  dropping  into  forgotfulnoss  in  the 
mind  of  an  old  fisherman,  and  surrounded  with  the 
ideas  which  belong  to  his  eveiy-day  life.  Ideas  difiier- 
ing  from  those  of  the  people  who  first  invented  the 
story,  as  the  snow  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  differa  from 
peat-reek. 

Now,  to  look  forwards,  and  follow  in  imagination 
the  shoals  of  emigrants  from  Germany,  Scandinavia, 
France,  Ireland,  and  Scotland,  who  are  settled  in 
clumps,  or  scattered  over  America  and  Australia;  to 
think  of  the  stories  which  have  been  gathered  in 
Europe  from  these  people  alone,  and  which  they  have 
most  certainly  carried  with  them,  and  will  tell  their 
children ;  and  then  the  route  of  popular  tales  here- 


IZTÌ  INTRODUOnON. 

after,  and  thoir  spread  in  former  ages,  can  be  traced 
and  may  be  guessed. 

I  haye  inquired,  and  find  that  several  Islanders, 
who  used  to  tell  the  stories  in  Gaelic,  are  now  settled 
in  Australia  and  Canada.  One  of  my  relatives  was 
nearly  overwhelmed  with  hospitality  in  an  Australian 
village,  by  a  colony  of  Argyllshire  Celts,  who  had 
found  out  that  he  was  a  countà7man. 

I  was  lately  told  of  a  party  of  men  who  landed  in 
South  America,  and  addressed  a  woman  whom  they 
found  in  a  hut^  in  seven  diiferent  languages ;  but  in 
vain.  At  last^  one  of  them  spoke  Gaelic,  which  he 
had  not  done  for  many  years,  and  she  answered, 
*' Well,  it  is  to  thyself  I  would  give  the  speech,**  for 
she  was  a  native  of  Stratliglas. 

Thoro  is  a  Gaelic  population  in  Upper  Canada : 
there  are  Highland  rogiiucnts  in  India :  many  of  the 
Arctic  explorers  were  Highlanders,  and  most  of  the 
servants  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  still  are  :  Dr. 
Livingstone  is  in  South  Africa ;  and  what  is  true  of 
Highlanders  is  equally  true  of  Germans  and  Scandi- 
navians, they  are  spread  over  the  world.  In  short, 
the  "  migration  of  races,"  and  ''  the  diffusion  of  popular 
tales,**  is  still  going  on,  the  whole  human  race  is 
mingling  together,  and  it  is  fair  to  argue  from  such 
facts,  and  to  try  to  discover  that  which  is  unknown 
from  that  which  is  proved. 

What  is  true  of  one  Gaelic  story  is  true  of  nearly 
all ;  they  contain  within  themselves  evidence  tliat  they 
have  been  domesticated  in  the  country  for  a  long  time, 
and  that  they  came  from  the  East^  but  they  belong  to 
the  people  now,  wherever  they  came  from ;  and  they 
seem  also  to  belong  to  the  language. 

Poems  and  compositions  clearly  do.     In  the  prose 
tales,  when  animals  speak,  they  talk  in  their  natural 


IMTBODUOnON.  IXYÌÌ 

key,  80  long  as  they  speak  Gkielic,  and  for  that  reason, 
among  others,  I  belieye  them  to  be  old  traditions. 
The  little  birds  speak  in  the  key  of  all  little  birds  (ee)  ; 
they  say,  "beeg,  beeg."  The  crow  croaks  his  own 
music  when  he  says, ''  gawrag,  gawrag."  *  When  driven 
to  say,  **  silly,  siUy,**  he  no  longer  speaks  the  language 
of  nature.  Grimm's  Grerman  frog  says,  '*  warte,  warte," 
he  sings,  **  mach  mir  auf,'*  and  talks  his  own  language. 
80  does  his  Gaelic  relatÌTe,  in  No.  33,  when  he  says, — 

"  A  cktomhAg  a  chmomhag 
An  caimhne  ach  leat 
An  geaHadh  b«ag 
A  thng  tbn  tig 
An  tobar  Dhomh 
A  gliaoil  a  ghaoil.** 

He  then  imitates  the  quarking  and  gurgling  of  real 
frogs  in  a  pond  in  spring,  in  sounds  which  no  Saxon 
letters  can  express  ;  but  when  he  sings, — 

"  Open  the  door,  my  hinnej,  mj  heart, 
Open  the  door,  my  tin  wee  thing, 
And  mind  the  wordi  thnt  you  and  I  spak*, 
Down  in  the  meadow,  at  the  well  spring,** 

he  is  speaking  in  a  foreign  tongue,  though  the  stoiy 
has  been  domesticated  in  the  Lowlands  of  Scotland  for 
many  a  long  day,  and  is  commonly  told  there  stilL 
The  Scotch  story  has  probably  been  found  and  polished 
by  some  one  long  ago,  but  when  the  frog  comes 
''  loup,  louping,**  he  is  at  home  in  Low  Country  Scotch, 
and  these  words  are  probably  as  old  as  the  story  and 
the  language. 

If  Motherwell's  beautiful  nursery  songs  were  to 
be  collected  from  oral  recitation  anywhere,  they  would 
prove  themselves  Scotch  by  this  test :  The  watch- dog 
says,  ''woufi^   wouff;**  the  hen  is  "chuckie;"  the 


Ixviii  INTRODUOnOR. 

chickens,  '^wheeUe,  wheeties;**  the  cock  is  ^'cockie- 
leerie-law  ;'*  the  pigeon,  ''  croodle-doo ;"  the  cow  says, 
"  moa**  And  so  also  the  wood-pigeon  who  said,  "  take 
two  sheep,  Tafiy  take  two,**  spoke  English ;  but  the 
blackcock,  and  cuckoo^  and  cock,  in  the  Norse  tales, 
who  quaneUed  about  a  cow,  are  easily  known  to  be 
foreigners  when  they  speak  English,  for  the  original 
Norse  alone  gives  their  true  note.  The  Gaelic  stories, 
tried  by  this  test,  certainly  belong  to  the  language  as 
they  do  to  the  people  ;  and  now  let  us  see  if  they  can 
teach  us  anything  about  the  people,  their  origin,  and 
their  habits,  past  and  present 

First,  the  manners  are  generally  those  of  the  day. 
The  tales  are  like  the  feasts  of  the  pauper  maniac. 
Emperor  of  the  world,  who  confided  to  his  doctor  that 
all  liis  rich  food  tastod  of  oatmeal  brose.  Kings  live 
in  cottages,  and  sit  on  low  stools.  When  they  have 
coaches,  they  open  the  door  themselve&  The  queen 
saddles  the  king*s  horse.  The  king  goes  to  his  own 
stable  when  he  hears  a  noise  there.  Sportsmen  use 
guns.  The  fire  is  on  the  floor.  Supernatural  old 
women  are  found  spinning  ^'.beyond*'  it,  in  the  warm 
place  of  honour,  in  all  primitive  dwellings,  even  in  a 
Lapland  tent  The  king^s  mother  puts  on  tlie  fire, 
and  sloops  in  the  common  room,  as  a  peasant  doo&  The 
cock  sleeps  on  the  rafters,  Uie  sheep  on  the  floor,  the 
bull  behind  the  door.  A  ladder  is  a  pole,  with  pegs 
stuck  through  it  Horses  put  their  noses  ''into** 
bridles.  When  all  Ireland  passes  in  review  before 
the  princess,  they  go  in  at  the  front  door  and  out  at 
the  back,  as  they  would  through  a  bothy ;  and  even 
that  unexplained  personage,  the  daughter  of  the  king 
of  the  skies,  has  maids  who  chatter  to  her  as  freely  as 
maids  do  to  Highland  mistresses.  When  the  prince  is 
at  death's  door  for  love  of  the  beautiful  lady  in  the 


IKTBODUOnON. 

8wan*8  down  robe,  and  iho  queen  mother  is  in  despair, 
she  goes  to  the  kitchen  to  talk  oyer  the  matter. 

The  tales  represent  the  actual,  every-day  life  of 
those  who  tell  them,  with  great  fidelity.  They  have 
done  the  same,  in  all  likeliliood,  time  out  of  mind, 
and  that  which  is  not  true  of  the  present  is,  in  all 
probability,  tri^e  of  the  past ;  and  therefore  something 
may  be  learned  of  forgotten  ways  of  life. 

If  much  is  of  home  growth,  if  the  fight  with  the 
dragon  takes  place  at  the  end  of  a  dark,  quiet 
Highland  loch,  whore  real  whales  actually  blow  and 
splash,  there  are  landscapes  which  are  not  painted 
from  nature,  as  she  is  seen  in  the  Isles,  and  these 
may  be  real  pictures  seen  long  ago  by  our  ancestor& 
Men  ride  for  days  through  forests,  though  the  men 
who  tell  of  them  live  in  smaU  islands,  where  there 
are  only  drift  trees  and  bog  pine.  There  are  traces  of 
foreign  or  forgotten  laws  or  custom&  A  man  buys  a 
wife  as  he  would  a  cow,  and  acquires  a  right  to  shoot 
her,  which  is  acknowledged  as  good  law. 

Cossar  tells  of  the  Qauls,  that  ''men  have  the 
power  of  life  and  death  over  their  wives,  as  well  as 
their  children.**  It  appears  that  an  Icelandic  betrothal 
was  little  more  than  the  purchase  of  a  wife ;  and  in 
this  the  story  may  be  a  true  picture  of  the  past 

Men  are  bound  with  the  binding  of  the  three 
smalls — waist,  ankles,  and  wrists — tightened  and  tor- 
tured. The  conqueror  almost  invariably  asks  the 
conquered  what  is  his  "eirig,**  an  old  law  term  for 
the  price  of  men's  blood,  which  varied  with  the  rank 
of  the  ii\jured  man ;  and  when  the  vanquished  has 
revealed  his  riches,  the  victor  takes  his  life,  and  the 
spoil ;  his  arms,  combs,  basins,  dresses,  horses,  gold 
and  silver,  and  such  deeds  may  have  been  done.  The 
tales  which  treat  of  the  wars  of  Eirinn  and  Lochlann, 


IZX  INTRODUOnON. 

and  aie  foil  of  metrical  proee,  dosoribo  arms  and  boats, 
helmets,  spears,  shields,  and  other  gear ;  sliips  that  are 
drawn  on  shore,  as  Icelandic  ships  really  were  ;  boats 
and  arms  similar  to  those  which  are  figured  on  old 
stones  in  lona  and  elsewhere,  and  are  sometimes  dug 
out  of  old  graves  and  peat  mosses.  I  believe  them  to 
be  descriptions  of  real  arms,  and  dresses,  manners,  and 
events. 

For  example,  the  warriors  always  abuse  each  other 
before  they  fight  So  do  the  heroes  of  Ossian;  so  do 
the  heroes  of  Homer ;  so  do  soldiers  now.  In  the  Times 
of  the  29th  of  December  1859,  in  a  letter  from  the 
camp  at  Ceuta  is  this  passage  : — 

*'  While  fighting,  CTen  when  onlj  exchanging  long  shots,  the 
Moon  keep  up  a  most  hideous  howling  and  shrieking,  vituperat- 
ing their  enemies  in  bad  Spanish,  and  making  the  mountains  re- 
sound with  the  oflon-rcpeatcd  epithet  of  *^perrot**  (dogs.)  To 
this  the  Spaniards  condescend  not  to  reply,  except  with  bullets, 
although  in  the  civil  war  it  was  no  unuraal  thing  to  hear  Carlist 
and  Christina  skirmishers  abusing  each  other,  and  especially  in- 
dulging in  unhandsome  reflections  upon  each  others'  Sovereign." 

Again,  the  fights  are  single  combats,  in  whicli  indi- 
viduals attack  masses  and  conquer.  So  were  Uie 
Homeric  combats.  What  will  be  the  story  told  in 
Africa  by  the  grandson  of  the  Moor  here  described, 
when  ho  sits  on  his  flat  roof  or  in  his  central  court  in 
Tetuan,  as  I  have  done  with  one  of  the  Jews  now  ruined ; 
he  will  surely  tell  of  his  ancestor's  deeds,  repeat  the 
words  in  which  Achmed  abused  the  unbeliever,  and 
tell  how  he  shot  some  mystical  number  of  them  with 
a  single  balL 

'*  Upon  the  whole  they  stood  their  ground  very  stoutly,  and 
some  of  them  gave  proof  of  great  courage,  advancing  singly  along 
the  ridge  until  they  caught  sight  of  the  first  Spaniards  posted 
below  it,  when  they  discharged  their  eipingardas  and  retreated.** 


IKTRODUOnON. 

**  Stories'*  had  begun  in  Morocco  by  the  9th  of 
January  1860,  .when  the  next  letter  appeared  : — 

**  The  Moon  have  been  giviog  ont  fantasticel  histories  of  their 
▼ictoriet  over  the  SpMiiardi,  of  their  haTtng  taken  redoubts, 
which  the  J  might  have  held  had  they  thought  it  wdVth  while, 
and  in  which  they  would  have  captured  gunt  if  the  Christians 
lud  not  been  so  prudent  as  to  remove  them  beforehand.  These 
are  mere  faUes.** 

It  may  be  so,  but  Moors  seem  to  have  fought  as 
wild,  braye,  undisciplined  troops  have  always  foughtr— - 
as  Ilomer's  Greeks  fought^  as  lUghlandors  fought,  and 
as  Fionn  and  his  heroes  fought^  according  to  tradition. 
Omit  the  magic  of  Moghoch  Colgar,  foigot  tliat  Moors 
are  dark  men,  and  this  might  be  an  account  of  Diar- 
maid  and  Conon  in  the  story,  or  of  their  descendants 
as  ihey  were  described  in  1745  by  ihoee  who  were 
opposed  to  them : — 

*'The  Moors  are  generally  tall  powerful  men,  of  ferocioas 
aspect  and  great  agility,  and  their  mode  of  coming  on,  like  so 
many  howling  savages,  is  not  cAlculatc<l  to  encourage  and  give 
confidence  to  lads  who  for  the  first  time  find  themselves  in  action. 
It  seems  nearly  impossible  to  make  them  prisoners.  In  one  en- 
counter (most  of  these  little  actions  are  made  up  of  a  number  of 
small  fights  between  a  few  companies  of  Spaniards  and  detached 
bodies  of  the  Moors,  who  seem  to  have  no  idea  of  attacking  in 
battalion  or  otherwito  than  irregularly),  in  which  a  nnmber  of 
Bloors  were  killed,  one  of  them  was  surrounded  by  four  Caza- 
dores,  who  came  down  upon  him  with  filed  bayonets,  shouting 
and  signing  to  him  not  to  fire,  end  that  they  would  girt  him 
quarter.  The  Moor  took  no  heed  of  their  overtures,  levelled  his 
long  gun,  and  shot  one  of  them,  whereupon  he  was,  of  course,  put 
to  death  by  the  others.** 

So,  looking  to  facts  now  occurring,  and  to  histor}', 
"  traditional  fictions"  look  very  true,  for  battles  are  still 
a  succession  of  single  combats,  in  which  both  sides 


ÌTTÌI  INTBODU0T1ON. 

abuse  each  other,  and  after  which  they  boast  IVar 
is  rapine  and  cruel  bloodshed,  as  described  by  old 
fishermen  in  Barra,  and  by  the  Times*  correspondent 
at  Tetuan;  and  it  is  not  altogether  the  chiyalrous 
pastime  .which  poets  have  sung. 

In  another  class  of  tales,  told  generally  as  plain 
narrative,  and  which  seem  to  belong  to  sayage  times,  a 
period  appears  to  be  shadowed  out  when  iron  weapons 
were  scarce,  and  therefore  magical ;  perhaps  before 
the  wars  of  Eirinn  and  Lochlann  began  ;  when  combs 
were  inventions  sufficiently  new  and  wonderful  to  be 
magical  also ;  when  horses  were  sacred,  birds  sooth- 
sayers ;  apples,  oak  trees,  wells,  and  swine,  sacred  or 
magical  In  these  the  touch  of  the  cold  steel  breaks 
all  spells ;  to  relievo  an  enchanted  prince  it  was  but 
necessary  to  cut  off  his  head ;  the  touch  of  the  cold 
sword  froze  the  marrow  when  the  giant* s  heads  leaped 
on  again.  So  Hercules  finished  the  Hydra  with  iron, 
though  it  was  hot  The  white  sword  of  light  which 
shone  so  that  the  giant's  red-haired  servant  used  it  as 
a  torch  when  he  went  to  draw  water  by  nighty  was 
surely  once  a  rare  bright  steel  sword,  when  most  swords 
were  of  bronze,  as  they  were  in  early  times,  unless  it 
is  still  older,  and  a  mythological  fiash  of  lightning. 

This  OLAiDiiKAiiu  GKAL  B0LUI8  is  almost  always 
mentioned  as  the  property  of  giants,  or  of  other  super- 
natural beings,  and  is  one  of  the  magic  gifts  for  which 
men  contend  with  them,  and  fight  with  each  other  ;  and 
in  this  the  Gaelic  tradition  agrees  with  other  popular 
lore. 

Fionn  had  a  magic  sword  forged  by  a  fairy  smith, 
according  to  a  story  sent  me  from  Islay,'  by  Mr.  Car- 
michael.  King  Arthur  had  a  magic  sword.  The  Manks 
hero,  "  Olave  "  of  Norway,  had  a  sword  with  a  Celtic 
name,  "  Macabuin,**  made  by  a  smith  who  was  surely 


nfTBODuonoK.  Ixziii 

aCelt^ — <<Loan  Maclibhuin,'*  though  he  was  "The 
dark  Smith  of  Drontheim**  in  the  story.*  King 
Arthur  and  his  sword  belong  to  the  Bretons  and  to 
many  other  langnagee,  besides  Welsh ;  and  the  Bretons 
have  a  wild  war  song,  **  The  wine  of  the  Gaols,  and 
the  dance  of  the  sword,'*  which  is  given  in  Barzas 

Breiz(1846).t 

There  is  a  magic  sword  in  the  Yolsung  tale,  called 
**  Oram,**  which  was  the  gift  of  Odin ;%  and  a  famous 
sword  in  the  Niebelungen  lied  ;  and  there  are  famous 
swords  in  many  popular  tales ;  but  an  iron  sword  was  a 
god  bng  ago  amongst  the  Scythians.§  ''An  antique 
iron  sword  "  was  placed  on  a  vast  pile  of  brushwood  as 
a  temple  in  every  district^  at  the  seat  of  government^ 
and  served  as  the  image  of  Mars.  Sacrifices  of  cattle 
and  of  horses  were  made  to  it^  and  *'  more  victims  were 
offered  thus  than  to  all  the  rest  of  their  gods.**  Even 
men  were  sacrificed ;  and  it  is  said  that  the  weapons 
found  in  Scythian  tombs  are  usually  of  bronze,  "  but 
the  sword  at  the  great  tomb  at  Eertch  was  of  iron." 

*  Train's  Uittory  of  the  isle  of  Man,  toI.  3,  p.  177. 

t  The  Gaelic  word  for  a  sword  prores  that  English,  French* 
Breton,  and  Gaelic  baTe  mnch  in  common*  (Eng.)  glaTe,  (Fr.) 
glaÌTe,  (Breton)  korol  ar  c*  hleie— dance  of  the  sword,  (Gaelic) 
elaidheamh — pronoanced,  glaÌT,  the  first  letter  being  a  soft  **  e" 
or  hard  **  g/*  the  word  nsoallj  spelt,  claymore.  Langaages  said 
to  be  derÌTed  from  Latin  do  not  follow  their  model  so  cloeely  as 
these  words  do  one  another — (Lat)  gladias,  (Spanish)  espada, 
(Italian)  spada;  and  the  northern  tongnes  seem  to  baye  pre- 
ferred some  original  which  resembles  the  English  word,  sword. 
If  '*tpada"  belongs  to  the  langnage  from  which  all  these  are 
■appoeed  to  haTe  started,  these  seem  to  have  used  it  for  a 
more  pescefnl  iron  weapon,  a  spade. 

X  Norse  Tales,  Introduction,  63. 

f  At  page  58  of  Bawlinson*s  Herodotos,  voL  8,  is  the  tranft> 
klioB  of  the  pauage  in  which  this  worship  is  deioribed. 

e 


Ixzit  INTBODUOnON. 

It  seemB,  then,  that  an  iion  sword  really  was  once  wor- 
shipped by  a  people  with  whom  iron  was  rare.  Iron 
is  rare,  while  stone  and  bronze  weapons  are  common 
in  British  tombs,  and  the  sword  of  these  stories  is  a 
personage.  It  shines,  it  cries  out — ^the  lives  of  men 
are  bound  up  in  it  In  one  story  a  fox  changes  him- 
self into  the  sword  of  lights  and  tlie  edge  of  the  real 
sword  being  turned  towards  a  wicked  ''  muime^"  turned 
all  her  spells  back  upon  herself  and  she  fell  a  withered 
fSagot. 

And  so  this  mystic  sword  may,  perhaps,  haye  been 
a  god  amongst  the  Celts,  or  the  god  of  the  people  with 
.whom  Celts  contended  somewhere  on  their  long  jour- 
ney to  the  west  It  is  a  fiction  now,  but  it  may  be 
founded  on  taci,  and  that  fact  probably  was  the  first 
use  of  iron. 

Amongst  the  stories  described  in  the  index  to  the 
Gaelic  MSS.  in  Edinburgh  is  one  in  which  the  hero 
goes  to  Scythia  and  to  Greece,  and  ends  his  adyentures 
in  Ireland.  And  in  the  "  Chronicles  of  the  Eri,"  1822, 
by  O'Connor,  chief  of  the  prostrated  people  of  his 
nation,"  Irish  is  usually  called  '*  the  Phoanician  dialect 
of  the  Scythian  language."  On  such  questions  I  will 
not  venture.  Celts  may  or  may  not  be  Scythians,  but 
as  a  collector  of  curiosities,  I  may  fairly  compare  my 
museum  with  other  curious  things ;  and  the  worship 
of  the  Scimitar,  2200  years  ago,  by  a  people  who  are 
classed  with  the  Indo-European  races,  appears  to  have 
some  bearing  on  oil  magic  swords  from  the  time  of 
Herodotus  down  to  the  White  Sword  of  light  of  the 
West  Highlands. 

If  iron  weapons,  to  which  supernatural  virtues  ore 
ascribed,  acquired  their  virtue  when  iron  was  rare,  and 
when  its  qualities  were  sufficiently  new  to  excite 
wonder — then  other  things  made  of  iron  should  have 


IKTBODUOnOir.  IZZT 

« 

like  Tiitaes  ascribed  to  them,  and  the  magic  should  be 
transferred  from  the  sword  to  other  new  inventions ; 
and  such  is  the  case. 

In  all  popular  tales  of  which  I  know  anything, 
some  mysterious  virtue  is  attributed  to  iron ;  and  in 
many  of  them  a  gun  is  the  weapon  which  breaks  the 
spells.     In  the  West  it  is  the  same. 

A  keeper  told  me  that  he  was  once  called  into  a 
bouse  by  an  old  woman  to  cure  her  cow,  which  was 
**  bewitched,**  and  which  was  really  sick.  The  cere- 
mony was  performed,  according  to  the  directions  of  the 
old  woman,  with  becoming  gravity.  The  cow  was  led 
out^  and  the  gun  loaded,  and  then  it  was  solemnly  fired 
off  over  the  cow*s  back,  and  the  cure  was  supposed  to 
be  complete. 

In  the  story  of  the  hunter,  when  the  widow's  son 
aims  at  the  enchanted  deer,  he  sees  through  the  spell, 
only  when  he  looks  over  the  sights  and  while  the  gun 
is  cocked,  but  when  he  has  aimed  three  times,  the  spell 
is  broken  and  the  lady  is  frea 

So  in  a  story  (I  think  Irish)  which  I  have  read 
somewhere,  a  man  shoots  from  his  hip  at  a  deer,  which 
seems  to  be  an  old  man  whenever  he  looks  over  the 
sight  He  aims  well,  and  when  he  comes  up  finds 
only  the  body  of  a  very  old  man,  which  crumbles  into 
dust,  and  is  carried  away  by  the  wind,  bit  by  bit,  as 
he  looks  at  it  An  iron  weapon  is  one  of  the  guards 
which  the  man  takes  into  the  iÌEury  hill  in  the  story  of 
the  Smith,  No.  28.  A  sharpshooter  fires  off  his  gun 
to  frighten  the  troll  in  *'  the  Old  Dame  and  her  Hen  f 
the  boy  throws  the  steel  from  his  tinder  box  over  the 
magic  horse,  and  tames  him  at  once  in  the  Princess  on 
the  Glass  HilL*  And  so  on  throughout^  iron  is  invested 
with  magic  power  in  popular  tales  and  mythology ;  the 

•  None  Talat,  Not.  8  and  18. 


IMTBODUOTION. 

last  iion  weapon  inyented,  and  the  fint^  the  gun  and 
the  Bwoid,  are  alike  magical ;  a  ''  bit  of  a  roaty  leap- 
ing hook"  does  equally  good  service,  and  an  old  horse 
shoe  is  as  potent  a  spell  against  the  powers  of  evil  as 
any  known  ;  for  one  will  be  found  on  most  stable  doors 
in  England. 

Now  comes  the  question,  Who  were  these  powers 
of  evil  who  cannot  resist  iron  I  These  fairies  who  shoot 
atans  arrows,  and  are  of  the  foes  to  the  human  racel 
Is  all  this  but  a  dim  hazy,  recollection  of  war  between 
a  people  who  had.  iron  weapons  and  a  race  who  had 
not  f  the  race  whose  remains  are  found  all  over  Europe  I 

If  these  were  wandering  tribes  they  had  leaders,  if 
they  were  warlike  they  had  weapons.  There  is  a 
smith  in  the  pantheon  of  many  nations.  Vulcan  was 
a  smith  ;  Thor  wielded  a  hammer ;  even  Fionn  had  a 
hammer,  which  was  heard  in  Lochlann  when  struck 
in  Eirinn,  according  to  the  story  found  midway  in 
BarnL  Fionn  may  have  borrowed  his  hammer  from 
Thor  long  ago,  or  both  may  have  got  theirs  from 
Vulcan,  or  all  three  may  have  brought  hammers  with 
them  from  the  land  where  some  primeval  smith 
wielded  the  first  sledge  hammer,  but  may  not  all  these 
smith  gods  be  the  smiths  who  made  iron  weapons  for 
those  who  fought  with  the  skin-clad  warriors  who  shot  flint 
arrows,  and  who  are  now  bogles,  fairies,  and  demons  I 

In  any  case,  tales  about  smiths  seem  to  belong  to 
mythology,  and  to  be  common  property.  Thus  the 
Norse  smith,  who  cheated  the  evil  one,*  has  an  Irish 
equivalent  in  the  Tliree  Wishes,t  and  a  Gaelic  story, 
''The  Soldier,"  is  of  the  same  class,  and  has  a  Norse 
equivalent  in  the  Lad  and  the  DeiL  There  are  many 
of  the  same  class  in  Grimm ;  and  the  same  ideas  per- 
vade them  olL     There  is  war  between  the  smiths  and 

•  None  Tales,  16,  63.  fCi^toii.    Dublin,  1846.    P.  880. 


DTTBODUOIIOir. 

aoldkn,  and  the  devil ;  iron,  and  horaes*  hoofs,  barn- 
man,  awoida,  and  gona  come  into  play ;  the  fiend  ìb 
a  fool,  and  he  has  got  the  wont  of  the  fight ;  accord- 
ing to  the  people,  at  all  eventa,  ever  since  St  Donstan 
took  him  by  the  noae  with  a  pair  of  tonga.  In  all 
probability  the  fiend  of  popular  tales  is  own  brother 
to  the  Gmagach  and  Glashan,  and  was  once  a  akin-clad 
aaTage,  or  the  god  of  a  aavage  race. 

If  this  theory  be  correct,  if  these  are  dim  recollec- 
tions of  savage  times  and  savage  people^  then  other 
magic  gear,  the  property  of  giants,  fÌEdrìes,  and  boglee, 
should  resemble  things  which  are  precious  now  amongst 
savage  or  half  dvilixed  tribes,  or  which  really  have  been 
prÌJBed  amongst  the  old  inhyabitants  of  these  islands, 
or  of  other  partsof  the  world  ;  and  such  is  often  the  case. 

The  work  of  art  which  is  most  sought  after  in 
GkMlic  tales,  next  to  the  white  glave  of  light,  is  a  pair 
of  combs. 

Gib  min  oir  agus  oir  garbh  airoiod,  a  fine  golden 
comb  and  a  coarse  comb  of  silver,  are  worth  a  deadly 
fight  with  the  giants  in  many  a  story. 

The  enchanted  prince,  when  he  ceases  to  be  a  raven, 
is  found  aa  a  yellow  ringletted  beautiful  man,  with  a 
golden  comb  in  the  one  hand  and  a  ailver  comb  in  the 
other.  Maol  a  Chliobain  invadea  the  giant's  house  to 
steal  the  same  things  for  the  king.  When  the  coarse 
comb  is  forgotten  l^e  king's  coach  falls  as  a  withered 
faggot  In  another  story  which  I  have^  it  is  said  of  a 
herd  who  had  killed  a  giant  and  taken  his  castle,  "  He 
went  in  and  he  opened  the  fint  room  and  there  was 
not  a  thing  in  it  He  opened  another,  and  it  was  full 
of  gold  and  silver  and  the  treasures  of  the  world. 
Then  he  opened  a  drawer,  and  he  took  a  comb  out 
of  it,  and  when  he  would  give  a  aweep  with  it  on  the 
one  aide  of  his  head,  a  shower  of  gold  would  fall  out  of 


IzZViil  IHTBODUOnOV. 

thai  side ;  and  when  he  wotdd  give  a  sweep  on  the 
other  side^  a  shower  of  silver  would  fall  from  thai  side. 
Then  he  opened  another  room,  and  it  was  full  of  eyerj 
sort  of  food  that  a  man  might  think  there  had  ever 
heen." 

And  so  in  many  other  instances  the  comb  is  a  trea- 
sure for  which  men  contend  with  giants.  It  is  asso- 
ciated with  gold,  silver,  dresses,  arms,  meat^  and  drink; 
and  it  is  magical 

It  is  not  so  precious  in  other  collections  of  popular 
tales,  but  the  same  idea  is  to  be  traced  in  them  alL  There 
is  a  water-spirit  in  Grimm  which  catches  two  children, 
and  when  they  escape  they  throw  behind  them  a  brush, 
a  oomb^  and  a  mirror,  which  replace  the  stone^  the  twig, 
and  the  bladder  of  water,  which  the  Gaolio  prince  finds 
in  the  ear  of  the  filly,  and  throws  behind  him  to  arrest 
the  giant  who  is  in  pursuit  In  the  nix  of  the  mill  pond 
an  old  woman  gives  a  golden  comb  to  a  lady,  and  she 
combs  her  black  hair  by  the  light  of  the  moon  at  the 
edge  of  a  poud,  and  the  water-spirit  shews  the  hus- 
band's head.  So  also  in  Snow  White  the  wicked  queen 
oombs  the  hair  of  the  beautiful  princess  with  a  poisoned 
%omb,  and  throws  her  into  a  deadly  magic  sleep.  That 
princess  is  black,  white,  and  red,  like  the  giant  in 
Na  2,  and  like  the  lady  in  Conal ;  and  like  a  lady 
in  a  Breton  story ;  and  generally  foreign  stories  in  which 
oombs  are  mentioned  as  magical,  have  equivalents  in 
Gaelic  For  example,  the  incidents  in  the  French  story 
of  Prince  Gherie,  in  which  gifted  children  comb  jewels 
from  their  hair,  bear  a  general  resemblance  to  many 
Gaelic  and  German  storiea  Now  there  is  a  reason  for 
everything,  though  it  is  not  always  easy  to  find  it  out ; 
and  the  importance  of  the  oomb  in  these  stories  may 
have  a  reason  alsa 

In  the  first  place,  though  every  civilized  man  and 


INTBODUOTIOlf.  IXTÌT 

woman  now  owns  a  comb^  it  ia  a  work  of  art  wliich 
neoeaaarilj  implies  the  use  of  tools,  and  considerable 
mechanical  skill  A  man  who  had  nothing  bat  a  knife 
ooold  hardly  make  a  comb ;  and  a  sayage  with  flint 
weapons  would  hare  to  do  without  A  man  with  a 
eomb^  then,  implies  a  man  who  has  made  some  progress 
in  ciyilization  ;  and  a  man  without  a  comb^  a  savage, 
who,  if  he  had  learned  its  use,  might  well  covet  such  a 
possession.  If  a  black-haired  savage,  living  in  the  cold 
north,  were  to  comb  his  hair  on  a  frosty  night,  it  is  to 
be  presumed  that  the  same  thing  would  happen  which 
now  takes  place  when  fiiir  ladies  or  civilised  men  comb 
their  hair.  Crackling  sparks  of  electricity  were  surely 
produced  when  men  first  combed  their  hair  with  a  bone 
comb ;  and  it  seems  to  need  but  a  little  fancy  and  a 
long  time  to  change  the  bright  sparks  into  brilliant 
jewels,  or  glittering  gold  and  silver  and  bright  stars, 
and  to  invest  the  rare  and  costly  thing  which  produced 
such  marvels  with  magic  power. 

There  is  evidence  throughoot  all  popular  tales  that 
combs  were  needed.  Translations  are  vague^  because 
translators  are  bashful ;  but  those  who  have  travelled 
amongst  half  civilized  people,  understand  what  is  meant 
when  the  knight  lays  his  head  on  the  lady's  knee,  and 
ahe  ^  dresses  his  hair."  In  German,  Norse,  Breton,  and 
Gaelic,  it  is  the  same. 

From  the  mention  of  the  magic  comb,  then,  it 
appears  that  these  legends  date  from  an  early,  rude 
period,  for  the  time  when  combs  were  so  highly  prized, 
and  so  little  used,  is  remote. 

In  Wilson's  prehistoric  **  Annals  of  Scotland,**  page 
424,  is  a  drawing  of  an  old  bone  comb  of  very  rude 
workmanship,  found  in  a  burgh  in  Orkney,  U^ther 
with  part  of  a  deer's  horn  and  a  human  skeleton; 
another  was  found  in  a  burgh  in  Caithness ;  a  third  is 


IXXX  IRTBODUOTION. 

mentioned ;  and  I  beliere  that  each  oombs  are  com- 
monly found  in  old  British  gravea. 

At  page  654,  another  drawing  is  given  of  one  of  a 
pair  of  combs  found  in  a  grave  in  Orkney.  The  teeth 
of  the  comb  were  fastened  between  pli^es  of  bone, 
rivetted  together  with  copper  nails,  and  the  comb  was 
decorated  with  ornamental  carvings.  With  these^ 
brooches  of  a  peculiar  form  were  discovered.  Similar 
brooches  are  commonly  found  in  Denmark.  I  have 
seen  many  of  them  in  museums  at  Beigen  and  Copen- 
hagen ;  and  I  own  a  pair  which  were  found  in  an  old 
grave  in  Islay,  together  with  an  amber  bead  and  some 
fragments  of  rusted  iron. 

A  broujEe  comb  is  also  mentioned  at  page  300,  as 
liaving  been  found  in  Queen  Mary's  Mounts  a  great 
cairn  near  the  battlefield  of  Langsydo,  which  was  pulled 
to  pieces  to  build  stone  dykes,  and  which  was  found 
to  contain  rude  arms,  bones,  rings  of  bituminous  shale, 
and  other  things  which  are  referred  to  very  early  pre- 
historic ages. 

At  page  500  Mr.  Wilson  mentions  a  great  number 
of  monuments  in  Scotland  on  which  combs  are  repre- 
sented, together  with  two-handed  mirrors  and  symbols, 
for  which  deep  explanations  and  hidden  meanings  have 
been  sought  and  found.  Combs,  mirrors,  and  shears 
are  also  represented  on  early  Eoman  tombs,  and  hid- 
den meanings  have  been  assigned  to  them ;  but  Mr. 
Wilson  holds  that  these  are  but  indications  of  the  sex 
of  the  buried  person.  Joining  all  this  together,  and 
placing  it  beside  the  magic  attributed  to  combs  in  these 
Highland  stories,  this  view  appears  to  be  the  most  rea- 
sonabla  The  sword  of  the  warrior  is  very  commonly 
sculptured  on  the  old  gravestones  in  the  Western  Islea 
It  is  often  twisted  into  a  cross,  and  woven  with  those 
endless  knots  which  resemble  certain  eastern  designs. 


INTBODUOnON.  IzZXÌ 

Sinnge  nondeBcrìpt  animals  are  often  figured  about  the 
aword,  with  tails  which  curl,  and  imai,  and  sprout  into 
leaves^  and  weave  themselves  into  patterns.  Those 
again  resemble  illuminations  in  old  Irish  and  Gaelic 
manuscripts,  and  when  the  most  prized  of  the  warrior^s 
possessions  is  thus  figured  on  his  tomb,  and  is  buried 
with  him,  it  is  but  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  comb^ 
which  was  so  valued  as  to  be  buried  with  its  owner, 
was  figured  on  the  monument  for  the  same  reason; 
and  that  sword  and  comb  were,  in  fact^  very  highly 
prized  at  some  period  by  those  who  are  buried  in  the 
tombs,  as  the  stories  now  represent  that  they  were  by 
men  and  giants. 

So  here  again  the  popular  fictions  seem  to  have  a 
foundation  of  fact. 

Another  magical  possession  is  the  apple.  It  is 
mentioned  more  frequently  in  Gaelic  tales  than  in  any 
collection  which  I  know,  but  the  apple  plays  its  part 
in  Italian,  Grerman,  and  Norse  also.  When  the  hero 
wishes  to  pass  from  Islay  to  Ireland,  he  pulls  sixteen 
apples  and  throws  them  into  the  sea,  one  by  one,  and 
he  steps  from  one  to  the  other.  When  the  giant's 
daughter  runs  away  with  the  king^s  son,  she  cuts  an 
apple  into  a  mystical  number  of  small  bits,  and  each 
bit  talks.  When  she  kills  the  giant  she  puts  an  apple 
under  the  hoof  of  the  magic  filly  and  he  dies,  for  his 
life  is  in  the  apple,  and  it  is  crushed  When  the  byre 
is  cleansed,  it  is  so  clean  that  a  golden  apple  would  run 
from  end  to  end  and  never  raise  a  stain.  There  is  a 
gruagach  who  has  a  golden  apple  which  is  thrown  at 
all  comers,  and  unless  they  are  able  to  catch  it  they 
die ;  when  it  is  caught  and  thrown  back  by  the  hero, 
Gruagach  an  Ubhail  dies.  There  is  a  game  called 
cluich  an  ubhail,  the  apple  play,  which  seems  to  have 
been  a  deadly  game^  whatever  it  was.   When  the  king's 


I 


Izzxii  nfTBODUonov. 

daughter  transporia  the  soldier  to  the  green  ialaiid  on 
the  magio  tahledoth,  he  finds  magic  apples  which  trans- 
form him,  and  others  which  core  him,  and  hy  which  he 
transforms  the  cmel  princess  and  recovers  his  magio 
treasnres.  In  Qerman  a  cahhage  does  the  same 
thing. 

When  the  two  eldest  idle  king^s  sons  go  out  to 
herd  the  gianf  s  cattle,  they  find  an  apple  tree  whose 
fruit  moves  up  and  down  as  they  vainly  strive  to 
pluck  it 

And  so  on  throughout^  whenever  an  apple  is  men- 
tioned in  Qaelic  stories,  it  has  something  marvellous 
ahout  it 

So  in  German,  in  the  Man  of  Iron,  a  princess 
throws  a  golden  apple  as  a  prize,  which  the  hero 
catches  throe  times  and  carries  off  and  wins. 

In  Snow  Whito^  whore  the  poisoned  comh  occurs, 
there  is  a  poisoned  magic  apple  also. 

In  the  Old  Griffin,  the  sick  princess  is  cured  by 
rosy-cheeked  apples. 

In  the  Giant  with  the  Three  Golden  Hairs,  one  of 
the  questions  to  be  solved  is,  why  a  tree  which  used 
to  bear  golden  apples  does  not  now  bear  leaves  f  and 
the  next  question  is  about  a  welL 

So  in  the  White  Snuke^  a  servant  who  acquires  the 
knowledge  of  the  speech  of  birds  by  tasting  a  white 
snake,  helps  creatures  in  distress,  gets  their  aid,  and 
procures  a  golden  apple  from  three  ravens,  which  **  flew 
over  the  sea  even  to  the  end  of  the  world,  where  stands 
the  tree  of  life."  When  he  had  got  the  apple,  he  and 
the  princess  ate  it  and  married,  and  lived  happily  ever 
after. 

So  in  Wolfs  collection,  in  the  story  of  the  Won- 
derful Hares,  a  golden  apple  is  the  gift  for  which  the 
finder  is  to  gain  a  princess ;  and  that  apple  grew  on  a 


nitBODtKmoN.  Lmdii 

sort  of  tree  of  which  ihete  was  but  one  in  the  whole 
world. 

In  NoTse  it  is  the  same ;  the  princess  on  the  Glass 
Hill  held  three  golden  apples  in  her  lap,  and  he  who 
eoold  ride  up  the  hill  and  carry  off  the  apples  was  to 
win  the  prijn ;  and  the  princess  rolled  them  down  to 
the  hero,  and  they  rolled  into  lus  shoe. 

The  good  girl  plucked  the  apples  £rom  the  tree 
which  spoke  to  her  when  she  went  down  the  well  to 
the  nndergronnd  world ;  but  the  ill-tempered  step-sister 
thrashed  down  the  fruit ;  and  when  the  time  of  trial 
came,  the  apple  tree  played  its  part  and  protected  the 
goodgirL 

So  in  French,  a  singing  apple  is  one  of  the  marrels 
which  the  Princess  Belle  £toile,  and  her  brothers  and 
her  cousin,  bring  from  the  end  of  the  world,  after  all 
manner  of  adyentures ;  and  in  that  story  the  comb^ 
the  stars  and  jewels  in  the  hair,  the  talking  sooth- 
saying bird,  the  magic  water,  the  horse,  the  wicked 
siep-mothor,  and  the  dragon,  all  appear ;  and  there  is 
a  Gaelic  version  of  that  story.  In  shorty  that  French 
story  agrees  with  Gaelic  stories,  and  with  a  certain 
class  of  German  tales ;  and  contains  within  itself  much 
of  the  machinery  and  incident  which  is  scattered  else- 
where, in  collections  of  tales  gathered  in  modem  times 
amongst  the  people  of  rarious  countries. 

So  sgain  in  books  of  tales  of  older  date,  and  in 
other  languages,  apples  and  marvels  are  associated 

In  Straparola  is  an  Italian  story  remarkably  like 
the  GkieUc  Sea  Maiden,  and  clearly  the  same  in  ground- 
work as  Princess  Belle  Etoile.  A  lady,  when  she  has 
lost  her  husband,  goes  off  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean  with 
three  golden  apples  ;  and  the  mermaid  who  had  swal- 
lowed the  husband,  shews  first  his  head,  then  his  body 
to  the  waist^  and  then  to  the  knees ;  each  time  for  a 


IZZXÌT  IHTBODUOnON. 

golden  apple ;  and  the  incideniB  of  thai  atoiy  are  all 
to  be  found  elsewhere^  and  moat  of  them  are  in 
Qaelia 

So  again,  in  the  Arabian  Nights,  there  is  a  long 
atoiy.  The  Three  Apples,  which  tarns  upon  the  steal- 
ing of  one,  which  was  a  thing  of  great  price^  though  it 
was  not  magical  in  the  storj. 

So  in  classical  times,  an  apple  of  discord  was  the 
prize  of  the  fairest;  and  the  small  beginning  horn 
which  so  much  of  all  that  is  most  famous  in  ancient 
lore  takes  its  rise  ;  three  golden  apples  were  the  prize 
of  one  of  the  labours  of  Hercules,  and  these  grew  in  a 
garden  which  fable  has  placed  far  to  the  westwards, 
and  learned  commentators  have  placed  in  the  Cape 
Verde  Islands. 

So  then  it  appears  that  apples  have  been  myste- 
rious and  magical  from  the  earliest  of  times  ;  that  they 
were  sought  for  in  the  west,  and  valued  in  the  east ; 
and  now  when  the  popular  tales  of  the  far  west  are 
examined,  apples  are  the  most  important  of  natural 
productions,  and  invested  with  the  magic  which  be- 
longs to  that  which  is  old  and  rare^  and  which  may 
once  have  been  sacred. 

It  is  curious  that  the  forbidden  fruit  is  almost  al- 
ways mentioned  in  English  as  an  apple ;  and  this 
notion  prevails  in  France  to  such  a  degree,  tliat  when 
that  mad  play,  La  propriete  c'est  le  vol,  was  acted  in 
Paris  in  1848,  the  first  scene  represented  the  Garden 
of  Eden  with  a  tree,  and  a  board  on  which  was  written 
**  il  est  dèfendu  de  manger  de  ces  pommea** 

And  it  is  stated  in  grave  histories  that  the  Celtic 
priests  held  apples  sacred ;  so  here  again  popular  tales 
hold  their  own. 

Again,  supposing  tales  to  be  old  traditions,  some- 
thing may  be  gleaned  from  them  of  the  past     Horses, 


INTBODUOnOir.  IZZXT 

for  example,  must  once  bave  been  strange  and  raie,  or 
sacred,  amongst  the  Celts,  as  among  other  races. 

The  horses  of  the  Vedas,  which  drew -the  chariot 
of  the  son,  appear  to  have  been  confused  with  the  sun- 
god  of  Indian  mythology.  Horses  decided  the  fate  of 
kingdoms  in  Persia,  according  to  Herodotus.  They 
were  sacred  when  Phseton  drove  the  chariot  of  the 
sun.  The  Scandinavian  gods  had  horses,  according  to 
the  Edda.  They  are  generally  supernatural  in  Grimm*s 
German  stories,  in  Norse  tales,  in  French,  and  in  many 
other  collections.     They  are  wonderful  in  Breton  tales. 

When  the  followers  of  Columbus  first  took  horses 
to  America,  they  struck  terror  into  the  Indians,  and 
they  and  their  riders  were  demigods ;  because  strange 
and  terrible. 

Horses  were  surely  feared,  or  worshipped,  or  prised, 
by  Celts,  for  places  are  named  after  them.  Penmarch 
in  Brittany,  means  horse-head  or  hilL  Aidincaple  in 
Scotland  means  the  mare's  height^  and  there  are  many 
other  places  with  similar  names. 

In  Gaelic  tales,  horses  are  frequently  mentioned, 
and  more  magic  properties  are  attributed  to  them  than 
elsewhere  in  popular  lore. 

In  No.  1,  horses  play  a  very  prominent  part ;  and 
in  some  versions  of  that  tale,  the  heroine  is  a  lady 
transformed  into  a  grey  mare.  It  is  to  be  hoped,  for 
the  hero's  sake,,  that  she  did  not  prove  herself  the  bettor 
horse  when  she  resumed  her  human  form. 

In  Na  3,  there  is  a  horse  raca  In  No.  4,  there 
are  mythical  horses ;  and  in  an  Irish  version  of  that 
story,  told  me  in  August  1860,  by  an  Irish  blind 
fiddler,  on  board  the  Lochgoilhead  boat^  horses  again 
play  their  part,  with  hounds  and  hawks.  In  No.  14, 
there  are  horses ;  in  one  version  there  is  a  magic 
^  powney."     In  22,  a  horse  again  appears,  and  gives 


^?^ 


INTEODUOnOir. 


the  foundation  for  the  riddle  on  wliich  the  8toiy  tarns. 
In  40,  a  hone  is  one  of  the  pricoB  to  be  gauiod.  In 
41,  the  horse  pkys  the  part  of  bluebeard.  In  48,  a 
horse  is  to  be  hanged  as  a  thief  In  51,  the  hero 
assumes  the  form  of  a  horse.  In  many  other  tales 
which  I  have  in  manuscript,  man  appear  as  horses, 
and  reappear  as  men ;  and  horses  are  marvellous.  In 
one  tale,  a  man's  son  is  sent  to  a  warlock  and  becomes 
a  horse,  and  all  sorts  of  creatures  besidea  In  anotlier, 
a  man  gets  a  wishing  grey  fiUj  from  the  wind,  in 
return  for  some  meal  which  the  wind  had  blown  away ; 
and  there  is  a  whole  series  of  tales  which  relate  to 
water-horses,  and  which  seem,  more  than  all  the  rest, 
to  shew  the  horse  as  a  degraded  god,,  and,  as  it  would 
seem,  a  water^god,  and  a  destroyer. 

I  had  intended  to  group  all  these  stories  together, 
as  an  iUustration  of  this  part  of  the  subject,  but  time 
and  space  are  wanting.  These  shew  that  in  the  Isle  of 
Man,  and  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  people  still 
firmly  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  water-horse.  In 
Sutherland  and  elsewhere,  many  believe  that  they  have 
seen  these  fancied  animals.  I  have  been  told  of  Eng- 
lish sportsmen  who  wont  in  pursuit  of  thom,  so  cir* 
cumstontittl  were  the  accounts  of  tlioso  who  boliovod 
tliat  thoy  had  soon  tliom.  Tlie  witnesses  are  so  nume- 
rous, and  their  testimony  agrees  so  well,  that  there  must 
be  some  old  deeply-rooted  Celtic  belief  which  clothes 
every  dark  object  with  the  dreaded  form  of  the  Eaoh 
UiSGB.  The  legends  of  the  doings  of  the  water  kelpie 
all  point  to  some  river  god  reduced  to  be  a  fiiath  or 
bogla  The  bay  or  grey  horse  grazes  at  the  lake-side, 
and  when  he  is  mounted,  rushes  into  the  loch  and 
devours  his  rider.  His  back  lengthens  to  suit  any 
number ;  men's  hands  stick  to  his  skin ;  he  is  harnessed 
to  a  plough,  and  drags  the  team  and  the  plough  into 


niTBODUOnON.  IXXZYÌÌ 

the  loch,  and  tean  the  honee  to  bite ;  he  is  killed,  and 
nothing  remains  bat  a  pool  of  water ;  he  falls  in  love 
with  a  lady,  and  when  he  appears  as  a  man  and  lays 
his  head  on  her  knee  to  be  dressed,  the  frightened  lady 
finds  him  out  by  the  sand  amongst  his  hair.  ''  Tha 
Gainmheach  ann."  There  is  sand  in  it,  she  says,  and 
when  he  sleeps  sh&  makes  her  escape.  He  appears  as 
an  old  woman,  and  is  put  to  bed  with  a  bevy  of  dam- 
sels in  a  mountain  shealing,  and  he  sucks  the  blood  of 
all,  saye  one,  who  escapes  over  a  bum,  which,  water 
horse  as  he  is,  he  dare  not  cross.  In  short,  these  tales 
and  beliois  have  led  mo  to  tiiink  that  tlio  old  Celts 
mnst  have  had  a  destroying  water-god,  to  whom  the 
horse  was  sacred,  or  who  had  the  form  of  a  horsa 

Unless  there  is  some  such  foundation  for  the  stories, 
it  is  strange  to  find  the  romances  of  boatmen  and 
fishermen  inhabiting  small  islands,  filled  with  incidents 
which  seem  rather  to  belong  to  a  wandering,  horse- 
riding  tribe.  But  the  tales  of  Norwegian  sadlors  are 
similar  in  this  respect ;  and  the  Celtic  character  has 
in  fact  much  which  savours  of  a  tribe  who  are  boatmen 
by  compulsion,  and  would  be  horsemen  if  they  could, 
lliough  the  Western  islanders  are  fearless  boatmen, 
and  braye  a  terrible  sea  in  very  frail  boats,  yery  few  of 
them  are  in  the  royal  nayy,  and  there  are  not  many 
who  are  professed  sailors.  On  the  other  hand,  they 
are  bold  huntsmen  in  the  fi&r  north  of  America.  I  do 
not  think  that  they  are  successful  fÌEffmers  anywhere, 
though  they  cling  fondly  to  a  spot  of  land,  but  they  are 
famous  herdsmen  at  home  and  abroad.  On  the  misty 
hills  of  old  Scotland  or  the  dry  plains  of  Australia,  they 
still  retain  the  qualities  which  made  a  race  of  hunters, 
and  warriors,  and  herdsmen,  such  as  are  represented 
in  the  poems  of  Ossian,  and  described  in  history,  and 
eyen  within  the  small  bounds  which  now  contain  the 


IZZXYÌÌÌ  IHTRODUOnOV. 

Geltio  rabe  in  Europe,  iheir  national  taaies  appear  in 
strong  relieC  Every  deerstalker  will  bear  witness  to 
the  eagerness  of  Highlanders  in  pursuit  of  their  old 
favourite  game,  the  dun  deer ;  the  mountaineer  shews 
what  he  is  when  his  eye  kindles  and  his  nostril  dilates 
at  the  sight  of  a  noble  stag ;  when  the  gillie  forgets  his 
master  in  his  keenness,  and  the  southern  lags  behind ; 
when  it  is  '*  bellows  to  mend,"  and  London  dinners  are 
remembered  with  regret.  Tyree  is  famous  for  its  breed 
of  ponies  :  it  is  a  common  bit  of  Highland  **  chaff"  to 
neigh  at  a  Tjrree  man,  and  other  islands  have  famous 
breeds  also  It  is  said  that  men  almost  starving  rode 
to  ask  for  meal  in  a  certain  place,  and  would  not 
sell  their  ponies ;  and  though  this  is  surely  a  fiction,  it 
rests  on  the  fact  that  the  islanders  are  fond  of  horsea 
At  ficdrs  and  markets  all  over  the  Highlands  ponies 
abound.  Nothing  seems  to  amaae  a  Highlander  more 
than  to  see  any  one  walk  who  can  afford  to  ride ;  and 
he  will  chase  a  pony  over  a  hill,  and  sit  in  misery  on 
a  packsaddle  when  he  catches  the  beast^  and  endure 
discomfort,  that  he  may  ride  in  state  along  a  level  road 
for  a  short  distance. 

Irish  Celts,  who  have  more  room  for  locomotion, 
cultivate  their  national  taste  for  horse  flesh  in  a  higher 
degree.  An  Irish  hunter  is  valued  by  many  an  Eng- 
lish Nimrod;  all  novels  which  purport  to  represent 
Irish  character  paint  Irishmen  as  bold  riders,  and  Irish 
peasants  as  men  who  take  a  keen  interest  in  all  that 
belongs  to  hunting  and  racing.  There  is  not^  so  fisur 
as  I  know,  a  single  novel  founded  on  the  adventures 
of  an  Irish  or  Highland  sailor  or  farmer,  though  there 
are  plenty  of  fictitious  warriors  and  sportsmen  in 
prose  and  in  verse.  There  are  endless  novels  about 
English  sailors,  and  sportsmen,  and  farmers,  and  though 
novels  are  fictions^   they  too  rest  on    facts.      The 


INTBODUOnON.  IxXXÌZ 

Celts,  and  Saxons,  and  Normans,  and  Danes,  and 
Romans,  who  help  to  form  the  English  race,  are  -' 
home  on  shore  and  afloat^  whether  their  steeds  are  of 
flesh  and  blood,  or,  as  the  Graelic  poet  says,  of  brine. 
The  Celtic  race  are  most  at  home  amongst  their  cattle 
and  on  the  hills,  and  I  believe  it  to  bo  strictly  in 
accordance  with  the  Celtic  character  to  find  horses  and 
chariots  playing  a  part  in  their  national  traditions  and 
poems  of  all  ages. 

I  do  not  know  enough  of  our  Welsh  cousins  to  be 
able  to  speak  of  their  tastes  in  tliis  respect ;  but  I 
know  that  horse  racing  excites  a  keen  interest  in  Brit- 
tany, though  tlie  French  navy  is  chiefly  manned  by 
Breton  and  Norman  sailors,  and  Breton  ballads  and 
old  Welsh  romances  are  full  of  equestrian  adventures. 
And  aU  this  supports  the  theory  that  Celts  came  from 
the  east^  and  came  overland ;  for  horses  would  bo  prised 
by  a  wandering  race. 

So  hounds  would  be  prised  by  the  race  of  hunters 
who  chased  the  Caledonian  boars  as  well  as  the  stags  ; 
and  here  again  tradition  is  in  accordance  with  proba- 
bility, and  supported  by  other  testimony.  In  No.  4 
there  are  mystical  dogs ;  a  hound,  Gadhar  is  one  of  the 
links  in  No.  8  ;  a  dog  appears  in  Na  11 ;  a  dog,  who 
is  an  enchanted  man,  in  No.  1 2  ;  there  is  a  phantom 
dog  in  No.  23  ;  there  was  a  **  spectre  hound  in  Man  ;** 
and  there  are  similar  ghostly  dogs  in  England,  and  in 
many  European  countries  besides. 

In  19,  20,  31,  38,  and  in  a  great  many  other  tales 
which  I  have  in  manuscript,  the  hound  plays  an  im- 
portant part  Sometimes  he  befriends  his  master,  at 
other  times  he  appears  to  have  something  diabolical 
about  him  ;  it  seems  as  if  his  real  honest  nature  had 
overcome  a  deeply-rooted  prejudice,  for  there  is  much 
savours  of  detestation  as  weU  as  of  strong  affeo- 

/ 


ZC  mTRODUOnON. 

tion.  Dog,  or  son  of  the  dog,  is  a  term  of  abuse  in 
^-^c  as  elsewhere,  though  cuiloin  is  a  term  of  endear- 
ment, and  the  hound  is  figured  beside  his  master,  or  at 
his  feet,  on  many  a  tombstone  in  the  Western  Islea 
Hounds  are  mentioned  in  Gaelic  poetry  and  in  Gknelio 
tales,  and  in  the  earliest  acoounts  of  the  Western  Isles; 
and  one  breed  still  survives  in  these  long-legged,  rough, 
wiry-haired  stag-hounds,  which  Landseer  so  loves  to 
paint 

In  one  story,  for  which  I  have  no  room,  but  which 
is  well  worthy  of  preservation,  a  step-mother  sends  two 
step-children,  a  brother  and  sister,  out  into  the  world 
to  seek  their  fortune.  They  live  in  a  cottage  with 
three  bare  yellow  porkers,  which  belong  to  the  sister. 
The  brother  sells  one  to  a  man  for  a  dog  with  a  green 
string,  and  so  gets  three  dogs,  whose  names  are  Know- 
ledge, Figs  ;  Swift,  Luath  ;  Weighty,  Trom.  The 
sister  is  enraged,  and  allies  herself  with  a  giant  who 
has  a  hot  coal  in  his  mouth.  Knowledge  tells  his 
master  the  dangers  which  await  him  :  how  the  giant  and 
his  sister  had  set  a  venomous  dart  over  the  door. 
Swiftness  runs  in  first,  and  saves  his  master  at  the 
expense  of  his  own  tail,  and  then  the  three  dogs  upset 
a  caldron  of  boiling  water  over  the  giant^  who  is  hid  in 
a  hole  in  the  floor,  and  so  at  the  third  time  tlie  giant 
is  killed,  and  the  only  loss  is  a  bit  of  the  tail  of  Luath. 

Then  the  king^s  son  goes  to  dwell  with  a  beautiful 
lady  ;  and  after  a  time  he  goes  back  to  visit  his  sister, 
armed  with  three  magic  applea  The  sister  sets  three 
venomous  porkers  at  him,  and  he,  by  throwing  the 
ap]>les  behind  him,  hinders  thorn  with  woods,  and  moors, 
and  lakes,  which  grow  up  from  the  apples ;  but  tliey 
follow.  The  three  dogs  come  out  and  beat  the  three  pigs, 
and  kill  them,  and  then  the  king's  son  gets  his  sister 
to  come  with  him,  and  she  was  as  a  servant-maid  to 


INTBODUOnON.  XCl 

the  prince  and  the  fine  woman  with  whom  he  lived. 
Then  the  sister  put  Gath  nimh,  a  poisonous  sting  or 
thorn  into  the  bed,  and  the  prince  was  as  though  he 
were  dead  for  three  days,  and  he  was  buried.  But 
Knowledge  told  the  other  two  dogs  what  to  do,  and 
thej  scraped  up  the  prince,  and  took  out  the  thorn ; 
and  he  came  aUye  again  and  wont  home,  and  set  on  a 
fire  of  grej  oak,  and  burned  his  sister.  And  John 
Crawfurd,  fisherman  at  Lochlong-head,  told  John 
Dewar  **  that  he  left  the  man,  and  the  woman,  and  the 
dogs  aU  happy  and  well  pleased  together."  This  curious 
story  seems  to  shew  tlie  hog  and  the  dog  as  foes.  Per- 
haps ihey  were  but  the  emblems  of  rival  tribes ;  per- 
haps they  were  sacred  amongst  rival  races ;  at  all 
events,  they  were  both  important  personages  at  some 
time  or  other,  for  tliere  is  a  great  deal  about  them  in 
Gaelic  lore. 

The  boar  was  the  animal  which  Diarmid  slew,  and 
which  caused  his  death  when  he  paced  his  length 
against  the  bristles, — the  venomous  bristles  pierced  a 
mole  in  his  foot  It  was  a  boar  which  was  sent  out  to 
find  the  body  of  the  thief  in  that  curious  story,  an  gillie 
carrach ;  and  in  a  great  many  other  stories,  boars  appear 
as  animals  of  the  chase.  The  Fiantaichean  or  Feen, 
whomsoever  they  were,  are  always  represented  as  hunt- 
ing wild  boars,  as  tearing  a  boar  to  bits  by  main  force, 
or  eating  a  whole  boar.  Cairns,  said  to  have  been 
raised  over  boars,  are  shewn  in  many  parts  of  Scotland 
still.  I  myself  once  found  a  boars  tusk  in  a  grave 
accidentally  discovered,  close  to  the  bridge  at  Pool- 
£wa  There  were  many  other  bones,  and  a  rough  flint, 
and  a  lot  of  charcoal,  in  what  seemed  to  bo  a  shallow 
human  grave,  a  kind  of  stone  coffin  built  up  with 
loose  slabs. 

''little  pigs*'  play  their  part  in  the  nursery  lorfi 


XCii  INTBODUOnON. 

of  England.     Eyorybody  who  has  been  young  and  has 
toes,  must  know  how 

'*  This  little  pig  went  to  market, 
And  this  little  pig  staid  at  homo — 
This  Utile  pig  got  roaat  beef; 
And  this  little  pig  got  none ; 
And  this  Httlo  pig  went  wee,  wee,  wee,  all  tbe  way  home.** 

Tliere  is  a  long  and  tragic  story  which  has  been 
currept  amongst  at  l^ast  three  generations  of  my  own 
family  regarding  a  lot  of  little  pigs  who  had  a  wise 
mother,  who  told  them  where  they  were  to  build 
their  houses,  and  how,  so  as  to  avoid  the  fox.  Some 
of  the  little  pigs  would  not  follow  their  mother's  counsel, 
and  built  houses  of  loaves,  and  the  fox  got  in  and  said, 
"  I  will  gallop,  and  I'll  trample,  and  I'll  knock  down 
your  house,"  and  he  ate  the  foolish,  little,  proud  pigs; 
but  the  youngest  was  a  wise  httle  pig,  and,  after  many 
adventures,  she  put  an  end  to  the  wicked  fox  when 
she  was  almost  vanquished,  bidding  him  look  into  the 
caldron  to  see  if  the  dinner  was  ready,  and  then  tilting 
him  in  headforemost  In  short,  pigs  are  very  impor- 
tant personages  in  the  popular  lore  of  Great  Britain. 

We  are  told  by  history  that  they .  were  sacred 
amongst  the  Gauls,  and  fed  on  acorns  in  the  sacred  oak 
groves  of  the  Druids,  and  there  is  a  strong  prejudice 
now  amongst  Highlanders  against  eating  pig^s  flesh. 

So  oak  treed  are  mythical  Whenever  a  man  is  to  be 
burned  for  some  evil  deed,  and  men  are  always  going 
to  be  roasted,  fagots  of  "grey,"  probably  green  oak, 
are  fetched.  Tliere  is  a  curious  story  which  tlio  liev. 
Mr.  MacLauchlan  took  down  from  the  recitation  of  an 
old  man  in  Edinburgh,  in  which  a  niytiiical  old  man  is 
shut  up  in  an  oak  tree,  which  grows  in  the  court  of  the 
king's  palace ;  and  when  the  king's  eon  lets  his  ball 


INTBODUOnON.  ZCIU 

roll  into  a  split  in  the  tree  by  chance,  the  old  man 
tells  the  boy  to  fetch  an  axe  and  he  will  give  him  the 
bally  and  so  he  gets  ont^  and  endows  the  Prince  with 
power  and  valour.  He  sets  out  on  his  journey  with  a 
red-headed  cook,  who  personates  him,  and  he  goes  to 
lodge  with  a  swine-herd  ;  but  by  the  help  of  the  old 
man  of  the  great  tree,  Bodach  na  oboibhb  moirb,  he 
orercomes  a  boar,  a  bull,  and  a  stallion,  and  marries  the 
king's  daughter,  and  the  red-headed  cook  is  burnt 

So  then,  in  these  traditions,  swine  and  oak  trees  are 
associated  together  with  mythical  old  men  and  deeds  of 
Talour,  such  as  a  race  of  hunters  might  perform,  and 
admire,  and  remember.  Is  it  too  much  to  suppose  that 
these  are  dim  recollections  of  pagan  times  f  Druidii  is 
the  name  for  a  magician,  Draoohd  for  magic.  It  is 
surely  not  too  much  to  suppose  that  the  magicians  were 
the  Druids,  and  the  magic  their  mysteries ;  that  my 
peasant  collectors  are  right,  when  they  maintain  that 
Oruaoach,  the  long-haired  one,  was  ''a  professor^  or 
** master  of  arts,"  or  "one  that  taught  feats  of  arms  ;*' 
that  the  learned  Gruagach,  who  is  so  often  mentioned, 
was  a  Druid  in  his  glory,  and  the  other,  who  in  the 
days  of  Johnson,  haunted  the  island  of  Troda  as 
^Oreogaca,"  who  haunted  the  small  island  of  Inch, 
near  Easdale,  in  the  girlhood  of  Mrs.  Mactavish,  who 
it  remembered  still,  and  is  still  supposed  to  haunt 
many  a  desolate  island  in  the  far  wes^  is  the  phantom 
of  the  same  Druid,  fallen  from  his  high  estate,  skulk- 
ing from  his  pursuers,  and  really  living  on  milk  left  for 
him  by  those  whose  priest  he  had  once  been. 

**  The  Rndl  itUnd  of  Inch,  nemr  Eaadde,  it  inbahited  by  a 
hrownie,  which  hM  followed  the  MecDoagallt  of  Ardinoaple  for 
agee,  end  Ukee  a  great  intereet  in  them.  He  takee  care  of  their 
cattle  in  that  isUnd  night  and  da/,  nnleee  the  dairymaid,  when 
there  in  tommer  with  the  milk  cattle,  neglecta  to  lea?e  warm 


ZCIT  INTRODUOnOK. 

inilk  for  Lim  at  night  in  a  knooking-ftone  in  the  caTe,  where  ehe 
and  .the  herd  UTe  during  their  stay  in  the  iaiand.  Should  thb 
perqaUite  be  for  a  night  forgot,  they  will  be  enre  in  the  morning 
to  find  one  of  the  cattle  fallen  OTer  the  rocks  with  which  the  place 
abounds.  It  is  a  question  whether  the  brownie  has  not  a  friend 
with  whom  he  shares  the  contents  of  the  stone,  which  will,  I  dare- 
say, hold  from  two  to  three  Scotch  pints." 
Mrs.  MaoTayish,  1859,  Islay. 

If  the  manners  and  cuatoma  of  druida  are  deacribed 
aa  correctly  aa  modem  manners  really  are,  then  aome- 
thing  may  be  gathered  concerning  droidical  worahim 
but  without  knowledge,  which  ^  I  have  no  time  to 
acquire,  the  full  bearing  of  traditiona  on  auch  a  aubject 
cannot  be  estimated. 

The  horse,  and  the  boar,  the  oak  tree,  and  the 
apple,  then,  are  often  referred  ta  Of  miatletoe  I  have 
found  no  trace,  unleaa  it  be  the  aour  herb  which  brings 
men  to  life,  but  that  might  be  the  "aoma,**  whidi 
plays  such  a  part  in  the  mythology  of  the  Yedaa,  or 
the  ahamrock,  which  waa  aacred  in  Ireland. 

Wella  are  indicated  as  mysterious  in  a  great  many 
talea — ^poiaon  wella  and  healing  wella — and  aome  are 
still  frequented  with  a  half  belief  in  their  virtue; 
but  such  wells  now  often  have  the  name  of  aome  aaint 
affixed  to  them. 

Birda  are  very  often  referred  to  aa  soothsayers — ^in 
No.  39  especially ;  the  man  catchea  a  bird  and  sa3ra  it 
ia  a  dÌYÌner,  and  a  gentleman  hujs  it  aa  such.  It  waa 
a  bird  of  prey,  for  it  lit  on  a  hide,  and  birda  of  prey  are 
continually  appearing  aa  bringing  aid  to  men,  such  aa 
the  raven,  the  hoodie,  and  the  falcon.  The  little  birda 
eapecially  are  frequently  mentioned.  I  should  therefore 
gather  fh)m  the  stories  that  the  ancient  Celta  drew 
augury  from  birda  as  other  nations  did,  and  as  it  is  aa- 
serted  by  historiana  that  the  Gauls  really  did.    I  should 


INTBODUOnON.  ZCV 

be  inclined  to  think  that  thej  posseflsed  the  domestic 
fowl  before  they  became  acquainted  with  the  country  of 
the  wild  grouBO,  and  thai  the  cock  may  have  been  sacred, 
for  he  is  a  foe  and  a  terror  to  uncanny  beings,  and  the 
hero  of  many  a  story ;  while  the  grouse  and  similar 
birds  peculiar  to  this  country  are  barely  mentioned. 
The  cat  plays  a  considerable  part,  and  appears  as  a 
transformed  princess  ;  and  the  cat  also  may  have  been 
sacred  to  some  power,  for  cats  are  the  companions  of 
Highland  witches,  and  of  hags  all  the  world  over,  and 
they  were  sacred  to  gods  in  other  lands ;  they  were  made 
into  mummies  in  Egypt,  together  with  hawks  and  other 
creatures  which  appear  in  Highland  tales.  Kavens 
were  Odin*s  messengers  ;  they  may  have  been  pages  to 
some  Celtic  divinity  also.  Foxes,  and  otters,  and 
wolves,  and  bears  all  appear  in  mythical  characters. 
Serpents  were  probably  held  in  abhorrence,  as  they 
have  been  by  other  races,  but  the  serpent  gave  wis- 
dom, and  is  very  mytliical. 

Old  Macdonald^  travelling  tinker,  told  me  a  long 
story,  of  which  one  scene  represented  an  incantation 
more  vividly  to  me  than  anything  I  have  ever  read  or 
heard.  "  Theie  was  a  king  and  a  knight,  as  there  was 
and  will  be,  and  as  grows  the  fir  tree,  some  of  it 
crooked  and  some  of  it  straight,  and  he  was  a  king  of 
Eirinn,"  said  the  old  tinker,  and  then  came  a  wicked 
stepmother,  who  was  incited  to  evil  by  a  wicked  hen- 
wife.  The  son  of  the  first  queen  was  at  school  with 
twelve  comrades,  and  they  used  to  play  at  shinny 
every  day  with  silver  shinnies  and  a  golden  ball 
The  henwife,  for  certain  curious  rewards,  gave  the 
stepdamo  a  magic  shirt,  and  she  sent  it  to  her  step  son, 
**  Sheen  Billy,*'  and  persuaded  him  to  put  it  on ;  he 
refused  at  first,  but  complied  at  last,  and  the  shirt  was 
a  BBTHiB  (great  snake)  about  his  neck.     Then  he  was 


ZOVl  IHT^ODUOTIOV. 

enchanted  and  under  apeUa^  and  all  manner  of  adyen- 
tnres  followed ;  bot  at  laat  he  came  to  the  honae  of  a 
wiae  woman  who  had  a  beautifiil  daughter,  who  fell  in 
love  with  the  enchanted  prince^  and  said  ahe  must  and 
wonld  have  him. 

"  It  will  ooet  thee  much  aonow,"  said  the  mother. 

''  I  care  not,"  said  the  girl,  **  I  mnat  have  him." 

**  It  will  coet  thee  thy  hair." 

*'  I  care  not" 

''  It  will  cost  thee  thy  right  breast'* 

''  I  care  not  if  it  should  cost  me  my  life,"  said  the 
girl 

And  the  old  woman  agreed  to  help  her  to  her 
wilL  A  caldron  was  prepared  and  filled  with  plants ; 
and  the  king's  son  was  put  into  it  stripped  to  the 
magic  shirty  and  the  girl  was  stripped  to  the  waist 
And  the  mother  stood  by  with  a  great  knife,  which 
she  gave  to  her  daughter. 

Then  the  king's  son  was  put  down  in  the  caldron, 
and  the  great  serpent,  which  appeared  to  be  a  shirt 
about  his  neck,  changed  into  its  own  form,  and  sprang 
on  the  girl  and  fastened  on  her ;  and  she  cut  away 
the  hold,  and  the  king^s  son  was  freed  from  the  spella 
Then  they  wore  married,  and  a  golden  breast  was 
made  for  the  lady.  And  then  they  went  through  more 
adventures,  which  I  do  not  well  remember,  and  which 
the  old  tinker's  son  vainly  strove  to  repeat  in  August 
1860,  for  he  is  far  behind  his  father  in  the  telling  of 
old  Highland  talea 

The  serpent,  then,  would  seem  to  be  an  emblem  of 
evil  and  wisdom  in  Celtic  popular  mythology. 

There  is  something  mysterious  about  rushes.  The 
fairies  are  found  in  a  bush  of  rushes ;  the  great  caldron 
of  the  Feen  is  hid  under  a  bush  of  rushes ;  and  in  a 
great  many  other  instances  tom  ìuaohabach  appears. 


IMTBODUOnON.  XCYU 

I  do  not  know  that  the  plant  is  mentioned  in  foreign 
talee,  but  it  occurs  several  times  in  border  minstrelsy. 
.  if  the  Druids  worshipped  the  sun  and  moon,  there 
is  very  little  direct  reference  to  such  worship  in  high- 
land stories  now.  There  are  many  highland  customs 
which  point  to  solar  worship,  but  these  have  been 
treated  of  by  abler  pens,  and  I  have  nothing  to  add  on 
that  head. 

There  is  yet  another  animal  which  is  mythical — 
the  water-bull.  He  certainly  belongs  to  Celtic  my- 
thology, as  the  water-horse  does,  for  he  is  known  in 
the  Isle  of  Man  and  all  over  the  islandsi 

There  are  numerous  lakes  where  water-bulls  are 
supposed  to  exists  and  their  progeny  are  supposed  to 
be  easily  known  by  their  short  ears.  M'hen  the 
water-bull  appears  in  a  story  he  is  generally  repre- 
sented as  friendly  to  man.  I  have  a  great  many  accounts 
of  him,  and  his  name  in  Skye  is  Tarbh  Eithre.    * 

There  is  a  gigantic  water  bird,  called  the  Boobrie^ 
which  is  supposed  to  inhabit  the  fresh  water  and  sea 
lochs  of  Argyllshire.  I  have  heard  of  him  nowhere 
else ;  but  I  have  heard  of  him  from  several  people. 

He  is  ravenous  and  gigantic,  gobbles  up  sheep 
and  cows,  has  webbed  feet,  a  very  loud  hoarse  voice^ 
and  is  somewhat  like  a  cormorant  He  is  reported  to 
have  terrified  a  minister  out  of  his  propriety,  and  it  is 
therefore  to  be  assumed  that  he  is  of  the  powers  of 
evil.  And  there  are  a  vast  number  of  other  fancied 
inhabitants  of  earth,  air,  and  water,  enough  to  form  a 
volume  of  supernatural  history,  and  all  or  any  of 
these  may  have  figured  in  Celtic  mythology ;  for  it  is 
hard  to  suppose  that  men  living  at  opposite  ends  of 
Scotland,  and  peasants  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  should  in- 
vent the  same  fancies  unless  their  ideas  had  some 
common  foundation. 


•  •• 


ZCYUl  INTRODUOnOK. 

Besides  these  animals,  iheie  is  a  whole  sopematural 
world  with  superhuman  gigantic  inhabitants. 

There  are  continual  fights  with  these  giants,  which 
are  often  carried  on  without  arms  at  all — mere  wrestling 
matches,  which  seem  to  have  had  certain  rulea  It  is 
somewhere  told  of  the  Germans  that  they  in  their  forests 
fought  with  clubs,  and  the  Celtic  giants  may  once  have 
been  real  men.  Hercules  fought  with  a  dub.  Irish- 
men use  shillelahs  still,  and  my  west  country  friends, 
when  they  fight  now-a-days,  use  barrel  staves  instead 
of  swords,  and  use  them  well,  if  not  wisely ;  but 
whether  giants  were  men  or  myths,  they  are  always 
represented  as  strange  lubberly  beings,  whose  dealings 
with  men  invariably  end  in  their  discomfiture.  There 
are  giants  in  Herodotus  and,  I  believe,  in  every  popular 
mythology  known.  There  are  giants  in  Holy  Writ 
They  spoke  an  unknown  tongue  everywhere.  They 
said  '*  Fee  fo  fum"  in  Cornwall  They  say  **  Fiaw 
fiaw  foaghrich"  in  Argyll,  and  these  sounds  may 
possibly  be  corruptions  of  the  language  of  real  big 
burly  savages,  now  magnified  into  gianta 

The  last  word  might  be  the  vocative  of  the  Gaelic 
for  stranger,  ill  pronounced,  and  the  intention  may  be 
to  mimic  the  dialect  of  a  foreigner  speaking  Gaelic 

An  Italian  organ-grinder  once  found  his  way  to  the 
west,  and  sang  "Fideli,  fidela,  fidelin-lin-la.*'  The 
boys  caught  the  tune,  and  sang  it  to  the  words,  **  Deese 
creepe  Signaveete  ha,"  words  with  as  much  meaning 
as  **  Fee  fo  fum,"  but  which  retain  a  certain  resem- 
blance to  the  Itdiah  sound. 

K  the  giants  were  once  real  savages,  they  had  the 
sense  of  smell  peculiarly  sharp,  according  to  the  Gaelic 
tales,  as  they  liad  in  all  others  which  treat  of  them,  and 
they  ate  their  captives,  as  it  is  asserted  that  the  early  in- 
habitants of  Scotland  did,  as  Herodotus  says  that  Scyths 


INTRODUOTIOV.  XCIX 

did  in  his  time,  and  as  the  Fecyee  islanders  did  very 
lately,  and  still  do.  A  relative  of  mine  once  offered 
me  a  tooth  as  a  relic  of  such  a  feast ;  it  had  been 
presented  to  him  in  the  Feejee  Islands  by  a  charming 
dark  young  lady,  who  had  jnst  left  the  banquet,  bat 
hfid  not  shnrod  in  it  Tlic  Highland  giants  wore  not  so 
big  but  that  their  conquerors  wore  their  clothes  ;  they 
were  not  so  strong  that  men  could  not  beat  them,  even 
by  wrestling.  They  were  not  quite  savages ;  for  though 
some  lived  in  caves,  others  had  houses  and  cattle,  and 
hoards  of  spoil  Hicy  had  slaves,  as  we  are  told  that 
Scotch  proprietors  had  within  historic  times.  In 
"Scotland  in  the  Middle  Ages,**  p.  141,  we  loam  that 
Earl  Waldev  of  Dunbar  made  over  a  whole  tribe  to  the 
Abbot  of  Kelso  in  1 1 70,  and  in  the  next  page  it  is  im- 
plied that  these  slaves  were  mostly  Celts.  Perhaps  those 
Celts  who  were  not  enslaved  had  their  own  mountain 
view  of  the  matter,  and  looked  down  on  the  QM  as 
intrusive,  savage,  uncultivated,  slave-owning  giants. 

Perhaps  the  mountain  mists  in  like  manner  im- 
peded the  view  of  the  dwellers  on  the  mountain  and 
the  plain,  for  Fin  MacCoul  was  a  "  Qod  in  Ireland,** 
as  they  say,  and  is  a  **  rawhead  and  bloody  bones"  in 
the  Scottish  lowlands  now. 

Whatever  the  giants  were  they  knew  some  magic 
arts,  but  they  were  always  beaten  in  the  end  by  men. 

The  combats  with  them  are  a  Gaelic  proverb  in 
action  : — 

'*  Theid  leolUcbd  ibar  tpioDDadh." 

Skill  goes  over  might,  and  probably,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  giants  are  simply  the  nearest  savage  race  at  war  with 
the  race  who  tell  the  tales.  If  they  performed  impos- 
sible feats  of  strength,  they  did  no  more  than  Rob  Roy, 
whose  **  putting  stone"  is  now  shewn  to  Saxon  tourists 


C  IMTRODUOnON. 

by  a  Celtic  ooachmaiiy  near  Bonawe,  in  the  shape  of  a 

boulder  of  many  tons,  though  Rob  Roadh  lived  only  a 

hundred  years  ago,  near  Inverary,  in  a  cottage  which 

is  now  standing,  and  which  was  lately  inhabited  by  a 

shepherd. 

y^     The  Gaelic  giants  are  yery  like  those  of  Norse  and 

I    Qerman  tales,  but  they  are  much  nearer  to  real  men 

I   than  the  giants  of  Germany  and  Scandinavia,    and 

Greece  and  Borne,  who  are  almost^  if  not  quite,  equal  to 

(    the  gods.     Famhairan  are  little  more  than  very  strong 

I.   men,  but  some  have  only  one  eye  like  the  Cydops. 

Their  world  is  generally,  but  not  always,  under 
ground ;  it  has  castles,  and  parks,  and  pasture,  and 
all  that  is  to  be  found  above  the  earth.  Gold,  and 
silver,  and  copper,  abound  in  the  giant's  land  ;  jewels 
are  seldom  mentioned,  but  cattle,  and  horses,  and  spoil 
of  dresses,  and  arms,  and  armour,  combs,  and  basins, 
apples,  shields,  bows,  spears,  and  horses,  are  all  to  be 
gained  by  a  fight  with  the  giants.  Still,  now  and  then  a 
giant  does  some  feat  quite  beyond  the  power  of  man ; 
such  as  a  giant  in  Barra,  who  fished  up  a  hero,  boat 
and  all,  with  his  fishing-rod,  from  a  rock,  and  threw 
him  over  his  head,  as  little  bojrs  do  **  cuddies"  from  a 
pier^nd  So  the  giants  may  be  degraded  gods  after  alL 
But  besides  '*  popular  tales,"  there  are  fairy  tales, 
which  are  not  told  as  stories,  but  facta  At  all  events, 
the  creed  is  too  teceni  to  be  lightly  spoken  o£ 

Men  do  believe  in  fairies,  though  they  will  not 
readily  confess  the  fact  And  though  I  do  not  myself 
believe  that  fairies  art^  in  spite  of  the  strong  evidence 
offered,  I  believe  there  once  was  a  small  race  of  people 
in  these  islands,  who  are  remembered  as  fairies,  for  the 
fairy  belief  is  not  confined  to  the  Higlilanders  of  Scot- 
land. I  have  given  a  few  of  the  tales  which  have 
come  to  me  as  illustrations  in  Na  27. 


niTBODUOIION.  CI 

«  Tkejf*  are  always  represented  as  liying  in  green 
moondsL  Tliej  pop  up  their  heads  when  disturbed  bj 
people  treading  on  their  houses.  They  steal  children. 
They  seem  to  live  on  familiar  terms  with  the  people 
about  them  when  thoj  treat  them  well|  to  punish  them 
when  thej  ill  treat  them.  If  giants  are  magnified, 
these  are  but  men  seen  through  the  other  end  of  the 
telescope,  and  there  are  such  people  now.  A  Lapp  is 
such  a  man— he  is  a  little  flesh-eating  mortal — Shaving 
control  over  the  beasts,  and  liying  in  a  green  mound — ' 
when  he  is  not  living  in  a  tent,  or  sleeping  out  of 
doors,  wrapped  in  his  deer-skin  shirt  I  have  lived 
amongst  them  and  know  them  and  their  dwellings 
pretty  welL  I  know  one  which  would  answer  to  the 
description  of  a  fairy  mound  exactly.  It  is  on  the 
most  northern  peninsula  in  Europe,  to  the  east  of  the 
North  Cape,  close  to  the  sea,  in  a  sandy  hollow  near  a 
bum.  It  is  round — say,  twelve  feet  in  diameter — aud- 
it is  sunk  three  feet  in  the  sand  ;  the  roof  is  made  of 
sticks  and  covered  with  turf  The  whole  structure,  at 
a  short  distance,  looks  exactly  like  a  conical  green 
mound  about  four  feet  high.  There  was  a  famous  crop 
of  grass  on  it  when  I  was  there,  and  the  children  and 
dogs  ran  out  at  the  door  and  up  to  the  top  when  we 
approached,  as  ants  run  on  an  ant  hill  when  disturbed, 
^eir  fire  was  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  the  pot 
hung  over  it  from  the  roof.  I  lately  saw  a  house  in 
south  Uist  found  in  the  sand  hills  close  to  the  se&  It 
was  built  of  loose  boulders,  it  was  circular,  and  had 
recesses  in  the  sides,  it  was  covered  when  found,  and 
it  was  full  of  sand ;  when  that  was  removed,  stone 
querns  and  combs  of  bone  were  found,  together  with 
ishes,  and  near  the  level  of  the  top  there  was  a  stratum  of 
x)nes  and  teeth  of  large  g^rass-eating  animals.  I  know 
not  what  they  were,  but  the  bones  were  splintered  and 


cu  utmoDuonoK. 

broken,  and  mingled  with  ashes  and  shells,  oysters, 
cockles^  and  vrilks  (periwinkles),  shewing  clearly  the 
original  level  of  the  ground,  and  proving  that  this  was 
a  dwelling  almost  the  same  as  a  Lapp  '*  Qam*'  at  Hop- 
seidei 

Now,  let  US  see  what  the  people  of  the  Hebrides 
say  of  the  fairiea  There  was  a  woman  benighted 
with  a  pair  of  calves,  ''and  she  went  for  shelter 
to  a  knoll,  and  she  began  driving  the  peg  of  "the 
tether  into  it.  The  hill  opened,  and  she  heard  as 
though  there  were  a  pot  hook  '  gleegàshing;'  on  the 
side  of  the  pot.  A  woman  put  up  her  head,  and  as 
much  as  was  above  her  waist,  and  said,  '  What  business 
hast  thou  to  disturb  this  tulman,  in  which  I  make  my 
dwelling. ' "  This  might  be  a  description  of  one  of  my 
Lapp  friends,  and  probably  is  a  description  of  such  a 
dwelling  as  I  saw  in  South  Uisi  If  the  people  slept 
as  Lapps  sleep,  with  their  feet  to  the  fire,  a  woman 
outside  might  have  driven  a  peg  very  near  one  of  the 
sleepers,  and  she  might  have  stood  on  a  seat  and  poked 
her  head  out  of  the  chimney. 

The  magic  about  the  beasts  is  but  the  mist  of  anti- 
quity ;  and  the  fairy  was  probably  a  Pict.  Who  will 
say  who  the  Pict  may  have  been?  Probably  the 
great  Clibric  hag  was  one,  and  of  the  same  tribe. 

**  In  the  early  morning  she  was  busy  milking  the 
hinds ;  they  were  standing  all  about  the  door  of  the 
hut,  till  one  of  them  ate  a  hank  of  blue  worsted  hang- 
ing from  a  nail  in  it."  So  says  the  "  fiction,"  which  it 
is  considered  a  sin  to  relata  Let  me  place  some  facts 
from  my  own  journal  beside  it 

"Wednesday,  August  22,  1850.  Quickjok,  Swe^ 
dish  Lapland — In  the  evening  the  effect  of  the  sunlight 
through  the  mist  and  showers  was  most  beautiful.  I 
was  sketching,  when  a  small  man  made  his  appearance 


INTBODUOnOK.  Clll 

on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  and  began  to  shout  for 
a  boat  The  priest  exclaimed  that  the  Lapps  had  come 
down,  and  accordingly  the  dimlnntÌTe  human  specimen 
was  fetched,  and  proved  to  bo  a  liapp  who  had  estab- 
lished his  camp  about  seven  miles  ofi^  near  Yallespik. 
He  was  about  twenty-five  years  old,  and  with  his  high 
Uue  cap  on  could  stand  upright  under  my  arm." 

I  had  been  wandering  about  Quickjok  for  a  week, 
out"  on  Yallespik  frequently,  searching  for  the  Lapps, 
with  the  very  glass  which  I  had  previously  used  to 
find  deer  close  to  Clibric,  which  is  but  a  small  copy  of 
the  Lapland  mountain. 

**  Thursday,  23d.— Started  to  see  the  deer,  with  the 
priest  and  tiie  Clockar,  and  Marcus,  and  the  Lapp. 
The  Lapp  walked  like  a  deer  himselj^  aided  by  a  very 
long  birch  pole,  which  he  took  from  its  hiding  place  in 
a  fir  tree.  I  had  hard  work  to  keep  up  with  him. 
Marcus  and  the  priest  were  left  behind.  Once  up 
through  the  forest,  it  was  cutting  cold,  and  we  walked 
up  to  the  *  cota'  in  two  hours  and  a  quarter.  The 
deer  were  seen  in  the  distance,  like  a  brown  speck  on 
the  shoulder  of  Yallespik  ;  and  with  the  glass  I  could 
make  out  that  a  small  mortal  and  two  dogs  were  driv- 
ing them  homa  The  cota  is  a  permanent  one,  made 
in  the  shape  of  a  sugar  loaf^  with  birch  sticks,  and  long 
flat  stones  and  turf.  There  are  two  exactly  alike,  and 
each  has  a  door,  a  mere  narrow  slit,  opening  to  the 
west,  and  a  hole  in  the  roof  to  let  out  the  smoke.  I 
crept  in,  and  found  a  girl  of  about  fifteen,  with  very 
pretty  eyes,  sitting  crouched  up  in  a  comer,  and  look- 
ing as  scared  as  one  of  her  own  fawns.  The  priest 
said,  that  if  we  had  come  without  our  attendant  genius, 
the  small  Lapp,  she  would  have  fainted,  or  run  away 
to  the  hills.  I  began  to  sketch  her,  as  she  sat  looking 
modest  in  her  dark  corner,  and  was  rejoicing  in  the 


CIV  IMTBODUOnON. 

extreme  stillneas  of  mj  sittor,  when,  on  looking  up 
from  some  careful  touch,  I  found  that  she  had  Ta- 
nished  through  the  door-way.  I  had  to  brihe  her  with 
bread  and  butter  before  she  could  be  coaxed  back. 
A  tremendous  row  of  shouting  and  barking  outside 
now  announced  the  arrival  of  the  deer,  so  I  let  mj 
sitter  go,  and  off  she  ran  as  fast  as  she  could.  I  fol- 
lowed more  leisurely  to  the  spot  where  the  deer  wore 
gathered,  on  a  stony  hillside.  There  were  only  about 
200 ;  the  rest  had  run  off  up  wind  on  the  way  from  the 
mountains,  and  all  the  other  Lapps  were  off  after  them, 
leaving  only  my  pretty  sitter,  the  boy,  and  a  small 
woman  with  bleared  eyes,  as  ugly  as  sin,  his  sister. 

**  How  I  wished  for  Land8eer*s  pencil  as  I  looked 
at  that  scene !  Most  of  the  deer  were  huddled  dose 
together ;  hinds  and  calves  chewing  the  cud  with  the 
greatest  placidity,  but  here  and  there  some  grand  old 
fellows,  with  wide  antlers,  stood  up  against  the  sky  line^ 
looking  magnificent  I  tried  to  draw,  but  it  was  hope- 
less ;  80  I  sat  down,  and  watched  the  proceedings  of 
my  hosts. 

"  First,  each  of  the  girls  took  a  coil  of  rope  from 
about  her  neck,  and  in  a  twinkling  it  was  pitched  over 
the  horns  of  a  hind.  The  noose  was  then  slipped  round 
the  nock,  and  a  couple  of  turns  of  rope  round  the 
nose,  and  then  the  wild  milkmaid  set  lior  foot  on  the 
lialter  and  proceeded  to  hilk  thb  hind,  into  a  round 
birch  bowl,  with  a  handle.  Sometimes  she  sat,  at 
others  she  leant  her  head  on  the  deer's  dark  side,  and 
knelt  beside  her.  I  never  saw  such  a  succession  of 
beautiful  groupa 

<<  Every  now  and  then  some  half-dozen  deer  would 
break  out  of  the  herd  and  set  off  to  the  mountain,  and 
then  came  a  general  skurry.  The  small  Lapp  man, 
with  his  long  birch  pole,  would  rush  screaming  after 


HfTRODUOnON.  CT 

the  siragglen ;  and  his  two  gaont^  black,  rough,  half- 
•tanred  dogs  would  scour  off,  yelpings  in  pursuit.  It 
generally  ended  in  the  hasty  letuni  of  the  tenants,  with 
well-bitten  houghs  for  their  pains ;  but  some  fairly  made 
ol^  at  a  determined  long  trot,  and  vanished  over  the 
bill  It  was  very  curious  to  be  thus  in  the  midst  of  a 
whole  herd  of  creatures  so  like  our  own  wild  deer,  to 
have  them  treading  on  my  feet  and  poking  their  horns 
gainst  my  sketch-book  as  I  vainly  tried  to  draw  them, 
and  to  think  that  they  who  had  the  power  to  bid  de- 
fiance to  tlio  fleetest  hound  in  Sweden  should  be  so 
perfectly  tamo  as  to  lot  the  small  beings  who  herded 
them  so  thump,  and  bully,  and  tease  tiiom.  The  milk- 
ing^ in  the  meantime,  had  been  progressing  rapidly ; 
and  after  about  an  hour  the  pretty  girl,  who  had  been 
dipping  her  fingers  in  the  milk-pail  and  licking  up  the 
milk  all  the  time,  took  her  piece  of  bread  and  butter, 
and  departed  with  her  charge,  munching  as  she  went. 

**  inie  blear-eyed  one,  and  the  boy,  and  our  party, 
went  into  the  eota,  and  dined  on  cold  roast  reiper  and 
reindeer  milk.  Hie  boy  poured  the  milk  from  a  small 
keg,  which  contained  the  whole  product  of  the  flock  ; 
and  having  given  us  our  share,  he  carefully  licked  up 
all  that  remained  on  the  outside  of  the  keg,  and  set  it 
down  in  a  comer.  It  was  sweet  and  delicious,  like 
thick  cream.  Dinner  over,  we  desired  the  Lapp  to  be 
ready  in  the  morning  (to  accompany  me),  and  with  the 
clocker*s  dog,  '  Guoppe,*  went  reipor-shooting.  Tlio 
docker  himself,  with  a  newly-slaughtered  reindeer  calf 
on  his  shoulders,  followed ;  and  so  we  went  home.** 

A  few  days  afterwards,  I  was  at  another  camp, 
on  another  hill,  where  the  same  scene  was  going  on. 
**  In  a  tent  I  found  a  fine-looking  Lapp  woman  sitting 
on  a  heap  of  skins,  serving  out  coffee,  and  handing 
reindeer  cream  to  the  docker  with  a  silver  spoon.    She 


CVl  IKTBODUOnOV, 

had  silver  braoeletB,  and  a  couple  of  silver  rings ;  and 
altogether,  with  her  black  hair,  and  dark  brown  eje^ 
glittering  in  the  fire-light|  she  looked  eastern  and  mag- 
nificent*' Her  husband  had  many  trinkets,  and  thej 
had,  amongst  other  articles,  a  comb^  which  the  rest 
soomed  much  to  need 

Her  dress  was  blue^  so  were  most  of  the  dresses, 
and  one  of  her  possessions  was  a  bone  contrivance  for 
Mreaving  the  bauds  which  all  wore  round  their  ankles. 
She  must  have  had  blue  yam  somewhere^  for  her 
garters  were  partly  blue. 

I  spent  the  whole  of  the  next  day  in  the  camp, 
and  ¥ratched  the  whole  operations  of  the  day. 

"  After  dinner,  the  cliildren  cracked  the  bones  with 
Atones  and  a  knife,  after  they  had  polished  the  outside, 
and  sucked  up  the  marrow ;  and  then  the  dogs,  which 
did  not  dare  to  steal,  were  called  in  their  turn,  and  got 
the  remains  of  the  food  in  wooden  bowls,  set  apart  for 
their  especial  use." 

The  bones  in  the  hut  in  South  Uist  might  have 
been  the  remains  of  such  a  feast  by  their  appearanca 

''  The  cota  was  a  pyramid  of  sods  and  birch  sticks, 
about  seven  feet  high,  and  twelve  or  fourteen  in  diameter. 
Tliere  were  three  children,  five  dogs,  an  old  woman, 
Marcus,  and  myself,  inside ;  and  all  day  long  the  hand- 
soiue  lady  from  the  tent  next  door,  with  her  husband, 
and  a  couple  of  quaint-looking  old  fellows  in  deer- 
skin shirts,  kept  popping  in  to  see  how  I  got  on.  It 
was  impossible  to  sit  upright  for  Uie  slope  of  the  walls, 
ns  I  sat  cross-legged  on  the  ground.'* 

Tliis  might  be  a  description  of  the  Uist  hut  itself, 
and  its  inliabitonts,  as  I  can  fancy  thom. 

''The  three  dogs  (in  the  tent),  at  the  smallest 
symptom  of  a  disturbance,  plunged  out,  barking,  to 
add   to   the    row;    they    popped    in    by  the    same 


nrntoDUonoN.  crii 

way  under  the  canvas,  so  they  had  no  need  of  a 
door." 

So  did  the  dogs  in  the  story  of  Seantraigh ;  they 
ran  after  the  stranger,  and  stopped  to  eat  the  bones. 
And  it  is  remarkable  that  all  civilised  dogs  fall  npon 
and  worry  the  half-savage  black  Lapp  dogs,  and  bark 
at  their  masters  whenever  they  descend  from  their 
mountains,  as  the  town  dogs  did  at  the  fairy  dogs.  In 
short,  these  extracts  might  be  a  fair  description  of  the 
people,  and  the  dwellings,  and  the  food,  and  the  dogs 
described  as  fairies,  and  the  hag,  and  the  tulman,  in 
stories  which  I  have  grouped  together ;  told  in  Scotland 
within  tliis  year  by  persons  who  can  have  no  know-- 
Mgo  of  what  is  called  the  *'  Finn  theory,"  and  given 
in  the  very  words  in  which  they  came  to  me^  from 
various  sources. 

Lord  Eeay's  forester  must  surely  have  passed  the 
night  in  a  Lapp  cota  on  Ben  Clibric,  in  Sutherland,  when 
Lapps  were  Picts ;  but  when  was  that  1  Perhaps  in 
the  youth  of  the  fairy  of  whom  the  following  story  was 
told  by  a  Sutherland  gamekeeper  of  my  acquaintance. 

Tub  Herds  op  Glbn  Odhar. — A  wild  romantic 
^n  in  Strath  Carron  is  caUed  Glen  Garaig,  and  it  was 
through  this  that  a  woman  was  passing  carrying  an  in- 
fant wrapped  in  her  plaid.  Below  the  path,  overhung 
with  weeping  birches,  and  nearly  opposite,  run  a  very 
deep  ravine,  known  as  Glen  Odhar,  the  dun  glen.  Tlie 
child,  not  yet  a  year  old,  and  which  had  not  spoken  or 
attempted  speech,  suddenly  addressed  his  mother  thus  :- 

8  Konmhor  bho  mliaol  Odbar,  Many  a  dan  hnmmel  cow, 

La  laogh  na  gboblil,  Witb  a  calf  below  bar, 

Channaic  iniie  gam  bleogban  Hare  I  seen  milking  ' 

Anna  a  gblean  Odbar  nd  balla,  In  ibat  dnn  glen  yonder, 

Chin  cba  gnn  daine,  Witboni  dog,  witboat  man, 

Ova  bbean  gun  gbille,  "Witboat  woman,  witboat  gillisr 


enu  iNTBODUonoN. 

Ach  aon  dome,  Boi  one  mtn, 

8'e  liath.  And  he  hoaiy. 

The  good  woman  flung  down  the  child  and  plaid 
and  ran  home,  where,  to  her  great  joj,  her  baby  boj 
lay  smiling  in  its  cradle. 

Fairies  then  milked  deer,  as  Lapps  da'  They  lived 
under  ground,  like  them.  They  worked  at  trades, 
especially  smiUi  work  and  weaving.  They  had  hammers 
and  anvUs,  and  excelled  in  their  use,  but  though  good 
weavers,  they  had  to  steal  wool  and  borrow  looms. 
Lapps  do  work  in  metal  on  their  own  account ;  they 
make  their  own  skin  dresses,  but  buy  their  summer 
clothes.  A  race  of  wanderers  could  not  be  weavers  on 
a  large  scale,  but  they  can  and  do  weave  small  bands- 
very  neatly  on  hand-looms ;  and  they  alone  make 
these.  There  are  savages  now  in  South  Africa,  who  are 
smiths  and  miners,  though  tliey  neitlier  weave  nor  wear 
dothea  Fairies  had  hoards  of  treasure — so  have 
Lappa  A  man  died  shortly  before  one  of  my  Tana 
trips,  and  the  whole  country  side  had  been  out  search- 
ing for  his  buried  wealth  in  vain.  Some  years  ago 
the  old  silver  shops  of  Bergen  and  Trondl\jem  over- 
flowed with  queer  cups  and  spoons,  and  rings,  silver 
plates  for  waist  belts,  old  plate  that  had  been  hidden 
amongst  the  mountains,  black  old  silver  coins  that  had 
not  seen  the  light  for  years.  I  saw  the  plate  and 
bought  some,  and  was  told  that^  in  consequence  of  a 
religious  movement^  the  Lapps  had  dug  up  and  sold 
their  hoards.  Fairies  are  supposed  to  shoot  flint 
arrows,  and  arrows  of  other  kinds,  at  people  now. 
Men  have  told  me  several  times  that  they  had  been 
shot  at :  one  man  had  found  the  flint  arrow  in  an  asli 
tree ;  another  had  heard  it  whiz  past  his  ear ;  a  third 
had  pulled  a  slender  arrow  from  a  friend's  head.  If 
that  be  so,  my  argument  fails,  and  fisdries  are  not  of 


INTRODUOnON.  CIX 

the  past ;  but  Califomian  Indians  now  use  arrow-heads 
which  closely  resemble  those  dug  up  in  Scotland,  in 
Denmark,  and,  I  believe,  all  over  Europe.  Fairies  are 
conquered  by  Christian  symbols.  They  were  probably 
Pkgans,  and,  if  so,  they  may  have  existed  when  Chris- 
tianity was  introduced.  They  steal  men,  women,  and 
children,  and  keep  them  in  their  haunts.  They  are 
not  the  only  slave  owners  in  the  world.  They  are 
supernatural,  and  objects  of  a  sort  of  respect  and  won- 
der: So  are  gipsies  where  they  are  rare,  as  in  Sweden 
and  Norway;  so  are  the  Lapps  themselves,  for  they 
are  professed  wizards.  I  have  known  a  terrified  Swe- 
dish lassie  whip  her  horse  and  gallop  away  in  her  cart 
from  a  band  of  gipsies,  and  I  have  had  the  advantage 
of  living  in  the  same  house  with  a  Lapp  wizard  at 
Quickjok,  who  had  prophesied  the  arrival  of  many 
strangers,  of  whom  I  was  one.  Spaniards  were  gods 
amongst  the  Indians  till  they  taught  them  to  know 
better.  Horses  were  supernatural  when  they  came,  and 
on  the  whole,  as  it  appears,  there  is  much  more  reason 
to  believe  that  fairies  were  a  real  people,  like  the  Lapps, 
who  are  still  remembered,  than  that  tiiey  are  **  creatures 
of  imagination"  or  '* spirits  in  prison,"  or  *' fallen  angels  ;*' 
and  the  evidence  of  their  actual  existence  is  very  much 
more  direct  and  substantial  than  that  which  has  driven, 
and  seems  still  to  be  driving,  people  to  the  very  verge 
of  insanity,  if  not  beyond  it,  in  the  matter  of  those 
palpable-impalpable,  visible-invisible  spirits  who  rap 
double  knocks  upon  dancing  deal  boards. 

I  am  inclined  to  believe  in  the  former  existence  of 
fairies  in  this  sense,  and  if  for  no  other  reason,  because 
all  the  nations  of  £urope  have  had  some  such  belief, 
and  they  cannot  all  have  invented  the  same  fancy. 
The  habitations  of  Highland  fairies  are  green  mounds, 
they  therefore,  like  the  giants,  resemble  the  '*  under 


ox  mmoDUOTiov. 

jordiske  **  of  the  northi  and  they  too  may  be  degraded 
divinitiea. 

It  seems  then,  that  Qaelic  tales  attribate  super- 
natoral  qualities  to  things  which  are  mentioned  in 
popular  tales  elsewhere,  and  that  Gaelic  superstitions 
are  common  to  other  races ;  and  it  seems  worth  inquiry 
whether  there  was  anything  in  the  known  customs  of 
Celtic  tribes  to  make  these  things  yaluable,  and  whether 
tradition  is  supported  by  history. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  who  are  Celts  now  I  Who 
were  their  ancestors  I  Who  are  their  relations  I  and 
where  have  Qaelic  tribes  appeared  in  history  I 

I  believe  that  little  is  really  known  about  the 
Qael ;  and  in  particular,  the  origin  of  the  West  High- 
landers has  been  very  keenly  disputed.  One  thing 
is  clear,  they  speak  a  language  which  is  almost  iden- 
tical with  the  Irish  of  the  north  of  Ireland,  and  they 
are  the  same  people.  Hie  dialect  of  Irish,  which  varies 
most  from  Scotch  (Gaelic,  is  clearly  but  another  form  of 
the  same  tongue.  Manks  is  another ;  and  these  three 
are  closely  related  to  Welsh  and  Breton,  though  the 
difference  is  very  much  greater.  Gaelic,  Irish,  and 
Manks  vary  from  each  other  about  as  much  as  Norse, 
Swedish,  and  Danish.  Welsh  and  Breton  vary  from 
the  rest  about  as  much  as  German  and  Dutch  do  from 
the  Scandinavian  languages.  There  are  variations  in 
Gaelic,  and  I  believe  there  ai*e  in  all  the  five  surviv- 
ing Celtic  dialects,  as  there  are  in  the  languages  of 
different  counties  in  England,  of  every  valley  in  Nor- 
way and  Sweden,  of  every  German  district^  and  of  every 
part  of  France,  Spain,  and  Italy.  But  one  who  knows 
Gaelic  well,  can  make  himself  understood  throughout 
the  Highlands,  as  f^ly  as  an  Englishman  can  in  Eng- 
land, though  he  may  speak  with  a  Northumbrian  burr, 
or  a  west  country  twang,  or  like  a  true  Cockney. 


INTRODUOnON,  exi 

TheBe,  then,  form  the  Celtio  clan^  the  people  of  the 
west  of  Scotland,  the  Irish,  the  Manks,  the  Welsh,  and 
the  Breton.  Who  their  relations  are,  and  who  their 
ancestors,  are  questions  not  easily  answered,  though 
much  has  hoon  written  on  the  subject  The  following 
is  a  brief  outline  of  what  is  given  as  Celtic  history  by 
modem  writers  whose  works  I  haye  consulted  lately: — 

According  to  Henri  Martin,  the  French  historian,* 
the  whole  of  Central  Europe,  France,  and  Spain,  were 
once  overrun  by  a  race  calling  themselves  Gael,  and 
best  known  as  Gauls.  This  people  is  generally  admit- 
ted to  have  been  of  the  same  stock  as  Germans,  Latins, 
Greeks,  and  Slavonians,  and  to  have  started  from  Cen- 
tral Asia  at  some  unknown  epoch.  They  are  supposed 
to  have  been  warlike,  to  have  been  tatooed  like  modem 
New  Zealanders,  and  painted  like  North  American 
Indians,  to  have  been  armed  with  stone  weapons  like 
the  South  Sea  Islanders  and  Califomian  Indians  ;  but 
shepherds,  as  well  as  hunters,  and  acquainted  with  the 
use  of  wheat  and  rye,  which  they  are  supposed  to  have 
brought  with  them  from  Asia  One  great  confedera- 
tion of  tribes  of  this  race  was  known  to  ancient  histo- 
rians, as  KfXrt/.  They  were  represented  as  fair  and 
rosy-cheeked,  large-chested,  active,  and  brave,  and 
they  found  the  Euskes  settled  in  the  south  of  France, 
who  were  dark-complexioned,  whose  descendants  are 
supposed  to  be  the  Euscualdonec  or  Basques  of  the 
Pyrennees,  and  who  are  classed  with  the  Lapps  of  the 
north  of  Europe,  and  with  tribes  now  dwelling  in  the 
far  north  of  Asia.  I  have  seen  faces  in  Barra  very  like 
faces  which  I  had  seen  shortly  before  at  St  Sebastian 
in  Spain.  A  tribe  of  Gauls  made  their  way  into  Italy, 
and  have  left  traces  of  their  language  there,  in  the 
names  of  mountain  chains  and  great  rivers.     These 

•  Hiitoire  de  France,  par  Henri  Martin ;  1866. 


CXU  IKTBODUOnON. 

are  named  "Amhia,*'  or  ^'Ombres,"  and  Amhra  is 
translated  Valliant  This  inyasion  is  calculated  to 
have  taken  place  about  1500  B.a 

The  Gael  were  followed  by  Kimii  or  Cimbri,  a  kin- 
dred people  of  a  darker  complexion,  speaking  a  kindred 
language,  and  their  descendanta  are  supposed  to  be  the 
Welsh  and  Bretons.  These  in  turn  occupied  the 
interior  of  eastern  Europe,  and  wore  followed  by  the 
Scyths,  and  these,  says  the  French  historian,  were 
Teutona 

According  to  the  learned  author  of  the  essay  on 
the  Cimmerians,  in  the  third  volume  of  Hawlinson's 
Herodotus,  p.  184,  it  is  almost  beyond  doubt  that  a 
people  known  to  their  neighbours  as  Gimmerii,  Gimiri, 
or  probably  Gomerini,  attained  a  considerable  power 
in  Western  Asiii  and  Eastern  Europe  witliin  the  period 
indicated  by  the  dates  aa  800,  600,  or  even  earlier. 

These  people  are  traced  to  the  inhabitants  of  Wales^ 
and  Gael  and  Gymri  are  admitted  by  all  to  be  Ki Xroi ; 
and  still  keep  up  their  old  character  for  pugnacity  by 
quarrelling  over  their  pedigreea 

Celts  were  undoubtedly  the  primitive  inhabitants 
of  Ghiul,  Belgium,  and  the  British  Islands,  possibly  also 
of  Spain  and  Portugal ;  but  no  word  of  the  language 
spoken  by  these  ancient  Cimbri  has  been  preserved 
by  ancient  authors,  except  the  name^  ''  and  perhaps 
the  name  Cimmerii  may  have  included  many  Celtic 
tribes  not  of  the  Cymric  branch.''  These  Gauls  ap- 
peared everywhere  in  Europe  ;  and,  in  particular,  they 
who  hod  probably  been  driven  out  by  the  Scythians 
invaded  Scythia,  intermixed  with  the  people,  and 
formed  the  people  known  in  history  as  Celto-Scythians; 
who  the  Scyths  were  (according  to  the  author)  appears 
to  be  uncertain.  All  that  remains  of  their  language  is 
a  list  of  wordsi  picked  out  of  the  works  of  ancient 


•  •  • 


XNTRODUOnON.  CZIU 

inthon;  and  knowing  what  modem  anthors  make  of 
words  which  they  pick  up  by  ear,  such  a  list  is  but  a 
narrow  foundation  on  which  to  build.  Still  on  that 
list  it  has  been  decided  that  Scyths  spoke  a  language 
which  has  affinity  with  Sanscrit^  and  in  that  list,  as 
It  sooms  to  mo,  tlioro  are  several  words  which  resemble 
Gaelic  more  closely  than  the  Sanscrit  words  given  with 
theuL  And  so,  according  to  this  theory,  the  Basques 
were  found  in  Europe  by  the  first  Gael,  and  these  were 
driven  westwards  by  Kimri,  and  these  again  by  Scy- 
thians, *and  these  by  Teutons,  and  all  these  still  occupy 
their  respective  positions.  The  Basques  and  Lapps 
pushed  aside ;  the  Gael  in  Scotland  and  Ireland,  driven 
far  to  the  west¥rards;  the  Kimri  driven  westwards 
into  Wales  and  Britanny ;  the  Scyths  lost  or  ab- 
sorbed ;  and  the  Teutons  occupying  thoir  old  posses- 
sions, as  Germans,  Saxons,  English,  Scandinavians, 
and  all  their  kindred  tribes;  and  of  all  these  the 
Basques  and  their  relatives  alone  speak  a  language 
whidi  cannot  be  traced  to  a  common  unknown  origin, 
iiom  which  Sanscrit  also  cama 

Whatever  then  throws  light  on  the  traditions  of 
the  first  invaders  of  Europe  is  of  interest  to  all  the 
rest,  for,  according  to  this  theory,  they  are  all  of  the 
same  dan.  They  are  all  branches  of  the  same  old 
stock  which  grew  in  Central  Asia,  and  which  has 
spread  over  great  part  of  the  world,  and  whatever  is 
told  of  Gauls  is  of  interest  to  all  branches  of  Celta 

Home  was  token  by  Gauls  about  390  b.o.  ;  Greece 
was  invaded  by  Gauls  about  279  D.a,  and  they  are  then 
described  as  armed  with  great  swords  and  lances,  and 
wearing  golden  collars,  and  fighting  savagely.  At  the 
end  of  the  third  century  b.o.,  according  to  the  French 
historian,  Gaul  might  have  been  a  common  name  for  the 
greatest  part  of  Europe,  for  Gauls  were  everywhere^ 


CXIY  INTRODUOnOK. 

NoW|  what  maimer  of  men  were  these  Gaula,  when 
men  saw  them  who  could  describe  them  I 

All  the  Gaula  kept  their  hair  untonched  by  iron, 
and  raised  it  like  a  mane  towards  the  top  of  the  head. 
As  to  the  beardy  some  shayed  it^  others  wore  it  of  a 
moderate  length.  The  chiefs  and  the  nobles  shayed 
the  cheeks  and  the  chin,  and  let  their  mustache  grow 
to  all  their  length.     (Histoire  de  France,  page  33.) 

Their  eyes  were  blue  or  sea-green,  and  shone  under 
this  thick  mass  of  hair,  of  which  the  blond  hue  had  been 
changed  by  lime-water  to  a  flaming  tint 

Their  mustaches  were  "  Eousses,*'  which  is  the  only 
word  I  know  which  will  transkte  ruadh. 

The  warrior  was  armed  with  an  enormous  sabre  on 
his  left  thigh ;  he  held  two  darts  in  his  hand,  or  a  long 
lance;  he  carried  a  four-cornered  shield,  painted  of 
yarious  brilliant  colours,  with  bosses  representing  birds 
or  wild  animals ;  and  on  his  head  was  a  helmet  topped 
with  eagles'  wings,  floating  hair,  or  horns  of  wild  ani- 
mals; his  clothes  were  particoloured,  and  he  wore 
^'brighis;"  he  was  always  fighting  at  home  or  abroad; 
he  was  a  curious  inquiring  mortal,  always  asking  ques- 
tions ;  and  truly  he  must  have  been  a  formidable 
sayage  that  old  French  GauL  Men's  heads  were  nailed 
at  the  gates  of  his  towns  and  his  houses,  beside  tro- 
phies of  the  chase,  much  as  modem  Gael  now  hang 
up  the  trophies  of  their  destructiye  skill,  in  the  shape 
of  polo-cats  and  crowa 

The  chiefs  kept  human  heads  embalmed  and  pre- 
seryed,  like  archiyes  of  family  prowess,  as  the  Dyaks 
of  Borneo  and  the  New  Zealanders  still  do,  or  did  yery 
lately.  The  father  had  the  power  of  life  and  death  oyer 
his  wife  and  children,  and  exercised  it  too  by  burning 
the  guilty  wife ;  and,  though  some  chiefs  had  seyeral 
wiyes,  and  there  are  some  scandalous  stories  of  the 


INTBODUOnON.  CXY 

mannen  and  custoniB  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  ialanda ; 
women  were  consulted  together  with  men  by  the  chiefs 
on  matters  of  moment^  and  held  a  high  place  amongst 
the  GUols  of  France. 

Nowy  this  short  description  of  the  Gauls,  rapidly 
gleaned  from  the  pages  of  two  modem  books  of 
high  authority  and  great  research,  after  my  Gaelic 
stories  were  collected,  agrees  with  the  picture  which  the 
Gaelic  tales  give  of  their  mythical  heroes  in  many 
particulars.  They  have  long  beautiful  yellow  hair, 
Leadanach  Buidh  Boicheach.  They  are  Ruadh  Roua- 
ses.  They  have  large  swords,  claidheamh,  sometimes 
duileagach,  leaf-shaped.  They  cast  spears  and  darts, 
Sleadh.  They  are  always  asking  questions,  and  their 
descendants  have  not  lost  the  habit  yet  Their  dwell- 
ings are  surrounded  by  heads  stuck  on  staves,  stob. 
They  have  larders  of  dead  enemies.  When  a  man  is 
described  as  ragged  and  out  of  order,  it  is  almost  always 
added  that  his  beard  had  grown  over  his  face ;  and 
though  beards  are  coming  into  fashion  now,  it  is  not  a 
highland  fashion  to  wear  a  beard ;  and  many  a  stinging 
joke  have  I  heard  aimed  at  a  beaded  man  by  modem 
Highlanders.  The  shields  of  the  warriors  are  Bucaid- 
each,  bossed ;  Bella  Bhreachd,  dotted  and  variegated ; 
Bara  chaol,  with  slender  point ;  **  with  many  a  pic- 
ture to  be  seen  on  it,  a  lion,  a  cremhinach,  and  a  deadly 
snake ; "  and  such  shields  are  figured  on  the  lona 
tombs.  The  ancient  Qauls  wore  helmets  which 
represeuted  beasts.  The  enchanted  king^s  sons,  when 
they  came  home  to  their  dwellings,  put  off  cochal, 
the  husk,  and  become  men;  and  when  they  go  out, 
they  resume  the  cochal  and  become  animals  of  vari- 
ous kinds.  May  this  not  mean  that  they  put  on 
their  armour.  They  marry  a  plurality  of  wives  in 
many  stories.     In  shorty  the  enchanted  warriors  are, 


{ 


OXYÌ  tNTBODUOnoK. 

08  I  verily  believe,  nothing  but  leal  men,  and  their 
manneis  lool  manners,  seen  throngh  a  Iiaze  of  oen- 
tunes,  and  seen  in  the  same  light  as  they  are  seen  in 
other  popular  tales,  but^  mayhap,  a  trifle  clearer,  becaoae 
the  men  who  tell  of  them  are  the  descendants  of  the 
men  describedf  and  have  mixed  less  ¥rith  other  men. 

I  do  not  mean  that  the  tales  date  from  any  parti- 
oular  period,  but  that  traces  of  all  periods  may  be  found 
in  them — that  various  actors  have  played  the  same 
parts  time  out  of  mind,  and  that  their  manners  and 
customs  are  all  mixed  together,  and  truly,  though  con- 
fusedly, represented — that  giants  and  fiedries,  and 
enchanted  princes  were  men ;  that  Rob  Hoy  may  yet 
wear  many  heads  in  Australia,  and  be  a  god  or  an 
ogre,  according  to  taste — that  tales  are  but  garbled 
popular  history,  of  a  long  journey  through  forests  and 
vrilds,  inhabited  by  savages  and  wild  beasts  ;  of  events 
that  occurred  on  the  way  from  east  to  west^  in  the 
year  of  grace,  once  upon  a  time. 

Tales  certainly  are  historical  in  this  sense  when  they 
treat  of  Eirinn  and  Lochlann,  for  the  islands  were  the 
battlefield  of  the  Celts  and  Scandinavians,  and  though 
they  lack  the  precision  of  more  modem  popular  history, 
they  are  very  precise  as  to  Irish  names  and  geography. 
''They  went  to  Cuoc  Seannan  in  Ireland."  Oondl 
was  called  Gulbanach  from  Beinn  Oulbain  in  Ireland. 
There  is  the  "  king  of  Newry,"  and  many  other  places 
are  named  according  to  their  Gaelic  names,  never  as 
they  are  named  in  EnglisL  The  same  is  true  of  the 
manuscript  tales  in  the  Advocates*  library.  Places 
about  Loch  Awe  are  named,  and  the  characters  pass 
backwards  and  forwards  between  Ireland  and  Argyll, 
as  we  are  told  they  really  did  when  the  Irish  Celts  in- 
vaded and  possessed  that  part  of  the  west  of  Scotland, 
and  that  invasion  is  clearly  referred  to  in  more  than 


INTBODUOnON.  CZTU 

one  popular  tzadiiion  still  current.  When  Lochlann  ìb 
mentioned,  it  is  further  ofi^  and  all  is  uncertain.  The 
kincfs  son,  not  the  king  himself,  is  usuallj  the  hero. 
Breacan  MaeBigh.  Lochlainn  is  named,  or  the  son  of 
the  king  of  Lochlann,  without  a  name  at  all,  hut  the 
Irish  kings  often  have  a  whole  pedigree ;  thus,  Connall 
Gnlhanach  Maclulin  MacArt  Mac  some  one  else,  king  of 
Ireland,  and  I  lately  heard  a  long  story  ahout  ^'Magnus." 

This  again  is  like  distorted,  undated  popular  his- 
tory of  true  events.  They  are  clearly  seen  at  home, 
the  Tery  spot  where  the  action  took  place  is  pointed 
to ;  less  clearly  in  Ireland,  though  people  and  places 
are  named ;  they  are  dimly  seen  in  Lochlann,  and  be- 
yond that  everything  is  enlarged,  and  magical,  and 
mysterious,  and  grotesque.  Koal  events  are  distorted 
into  fables  and  magnified  into  supernatural  occurrences, 
for  the  Gaelic  proverbs  truly  say,  "There  are  long  horns 
on  cattle  in  mist"  or  "  in  Ireland,"  and  '*  Far  a¥ray  fowls 
have  fine  feathers." 

But  whether  the  stories  are  history  or  mythology, 
it  is  quite  clear  that  they  are  very  old,  that  they 
belong  to  a  class  which  is  very  widely  spread,  and  tbi^ 
they  were  not  made  by  living  men. 

All  story-teUers  agree  in  saying  that  they  learned 
them  as  traditions  long  ago ;  and  if  all  those  whose  names 
are  given  had  been  inclined  to  tell  ''  stories"  in  another 
sense,  they  could  not  have  made  and  told  the  same 
stories  at  opposite  ends  of  Scotland,  almost  simultane- 
ously, to  different  people.  James  Wilson  could  not 
have  told  Gonall  Cn^  bhuidhe  to  Hector  MacLean  in 
Islay,  about  the  same  time  that  Neil  Gillies  was  telling 
Gonal  Crobhi  to  me  at  Inverary,  and  a  very  short 
time  before  Hector  Urquhart  got  No.  8  from  Kenneth 
liacLennan  in  GairlocL  An  old  fisherman  and  an  old 
porter  could  not  have  combined  to  tell  a  "story". 


CXYlll  IMTRODUOnOV. 

which  was  in  Strapaiola,  in  Italiani  in  15G7|  to  Hector 
MacLean  in  Bamiy  in  1859,  and  to  the  Hey.  Mr.  Hao- 
Lauchlan  in  Edinburgh,  in  1860,  unless  these  stories 
were  popular  facts,  though  despised  as  fictions;  and 
they  are  curious  facts  too,  for  the  frame  of  Conal  is 
common  to  old  German  manuscripts,  and  some  of  the 
adventures  are  versions  of  those  of  Ulysses.  There 
are  many  proverbs  which  are  only  explained  when  the 
story  is  known;  for  example,  *' blackberries  in  Feb- 
ruary** moans  nothing;  but  when  explained  by  the 
story,  the  meaning  Lb  clearly  the  idea  which  an  ac- 
quaintance of  mine  once  embodied  in  a  French  toast^ 
as  'Mes  impossibilitès  accomplies.**  The  stories  do 
not  change  rapidly,  for  I  have  gone  back  to  a  reciter 
after  the  lapse  of  a  year,  and  I  have  heard  him  again 
repeat  in  Qaelic,  what  I  had  translated  from  his  dic- 
tation, with  hardly  a  change  (vol.  1,  p.  93). 

I  have  now  no  doubt  that  the  popular  tales  are  very 
old  ;  that  they  are  old  "Allabanaich,"  Highlanders  and 
wanderers ;  that  thoy  have  wandered,  settled,  and 
changed,  with  those  who  still  tell  them ;  and  call  them- 
selves "  Albannaicli,"  men  whose  wandering  spirit  is 
not  yet  extinct,  though  they  were  eotUed  in  their  pro- 
sent  abodes  '*  before  the  memory  of  man."* 

There  was  and  is,  a  wandering  spirit  in  the  whole 
race,  if  Celts  are  Indo-Europeans.  In  the  people  who 
delighted  in  the  adventures  of  Ulysses  and  .tineas,  a 
longing  spirit  of  western  adventure,  which  was  shewn 
in  the  fabled  Atalantis,  and  the  Island  of  the  Seven 
Cities  and  St  Brandon — the  spirit  which  drove  the 
hordes  of  Asia  to  Europe,  and  urged  Columbus  to  dis- 
cover America,  and  which  still  survives  in  "  the  Green 
Isle  of  the  great  deep,*'  ''  Eilan  uaine  an  iomal  torra 
domhain,'*  of  which  so  much  is  told,  which  Highland 
fancy  still  sees  on  the  far  western  horizon,  and  which. 


INTRODUOnON.  CXIX 

■s  **  PLATBiKNieiy'*  the  Isle  of  Heroes,  has  now  been 
raised  from  an  earthly  paradise  to  mean  Heayen. 

Much  has  been  said  about  highland  anperstitions, 
and  higlilanders  of  the  east  and  west^  like  their  south- 
em  neighbours,  have  many,  but  they  are  at  least 
respectable  from  their  age;  and  because  they  are  so' 
widely  spread  over  the  world,  I  believe  them  to  be 
nearly  all  fictions  founded  on  facts. 

Thirteen  Highlanders  would  eat  their  potatoes  to- 
gether without  fear,  and  one  of  them  might  spill  the 
salt  without  a  shudder.  I  never  hoard  of  a  Celtic  pea- 
sant consulting  his  table  as  an  oracle,  or  going  to  a 
clairvoyant;  but  plenty  of  them  dream  dreams  and  see 
visions,  and  believe  in  them  as  men  in  Bible  histoiy 
did  of  old. 

A  man  had  been  lost  in  crossing  the  dangerous 
ford,  five  or  six  miles  of  sand  and  rock,  between  Ben- 
becula  and  North  Uist,  shortly  before  I  was  there  in 
1859.  I  was  told  the  fact,  and  it  was  added  inciden- 
tally, ''  And  did  he  not  come  to  his  sister  in  a  dream* 
and  tell  her  where  to  find  himt  and  she  went  to  the 
place,  and  got  him  there,  half  buried  in  sand,  after 
the  whole  country  side  had  been  looking  for  him  in 
vain.**     Here  is  a  similar  story  from  Manchester : — 

**  Fm^iLMBirr  op  a  Drram.— An  inqaest  wm  h«ld  last  «T«n- 
ÌBg  at  Bbeffiekl,  before  Mr.  Thomaa  Badger,  coroner,  on  the 
body  of  Mr.  Charlei  Holmei,  button  mannfactnrer,  Glougb  Honte 
Lane,  who  had  been  found  drowned  on  Mondaj  morning,  in  the 
Lead-mill  dam  in  that  town.  The  deceased  left  his  home  on 
Baturdaj  night  in  companj  with  his  wife ;  thej  walked  through 
the  town  together,  and  about  nine  o'clock,  at  which  time  they 
were  at  the  top  of  Union  Street,  he  said  to  her,  '  Tm  going  to 
leare  thee  here,  Fanny.'  She  said,  *  Are  you?*  and  he  repfiad, 
*  Yes,  I  want  to  see  an  old  friend  who  is  going  to  Birminghùn  on 
Monday,  and  he  is  to  be  here.'  She  said  to  him,  '  Well,  Charlie, 
doo*t  stop  loog,  becanse  I  do  £»el  queer  about  thai  dream,'  and 


CXX  IRTBODUCnOV; 

ho  npUad^'Oh,  don't  nj  tbat;  IH  jiuit  1iat«  a  glan.  and  thai 
oome  hom«.  Go  and  get  tb«  rapper  reedy,  end  FU  oome  directly.' 
She  then  left  him.  When  he  got  into  the  hooee  he  wm  inyited 
to  drink  with  hit  friend,  hot  he  exhibited  eome  relnctenoe,  saying 
that  on  the  night  before  hie  wife  had  dreamed  that  fhe  saw  him 
dead  in  a  pnblio-honee,  and  that  the  had  dreamed  a  limilar  dream 
abont  a  week  before.  Unfortnnately,  howoTer,  he  yielded  to  the 
temptation,  got  drank,  and  did  not  leaTO  the  paUio-hooae  till  after 
twelre.  He  wae  accompanied  part  of  the  way  home  by  hie  friend, 
and  wae  noTer  afterwards  teen  alÌTe.  Near  his  house  are  the 
Lead-mill  dams,  and,  in  oonseqnenoe  of  his  not  returning  home, 
his  wife  felt  conTÌnoed  that  he  had  fallen  in  and  got  drowned.  A 
search  was  made,  and  on  Monday  morning  his  body  was  fomid 
in  the  water,  and  was  remo?ed  to  the  Royal  Standard  pnblic- 
honse,  where  his  wife  saw  the  body,  and  identified  it  as  that  of 
her  hnsband.  The  jnry  returned  a  ?erdict  of  *  Found  drowned,' 
and  recommended  that  an  opening  in  the  wall,  near  the  dam, 
through  which  it  is  supposed  he  bad  fallen,  should  bo  buOt  up." — 
Manehetter  &aminer. 

There  are  plenty  of  lowlondera  as  well  as  ''ignoranV 
Highlanders  who  think  that  they  are  seers,  without  the 
aid  of  a  deal  board  through  wliich  to  look  into  futurity, 
by  the  help  of  a  medium,  and  it  is  by  no  means  uncom- 
mon, as  I  am  told,  for  the  Astronomer  Eoyal  to  receiye 
English  letters  asking  his  advice,  ex  officio. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  add  a  word  as  to  the 
spoken  Gaelic  of  these  tales ;  the  mode  of  writing  it ; 
and  the  English  of  tlie  translation.  First,  then,  it  is 
admitted  by  all  that  the  Gaelic  of  the  West  Highlands 
is  a  branch  of  the  old  Celtic  stock,  that  is  to  say,  the 
language  of  some  of  the  oldest  inyaders  or  inhabitants 
of  Europe  of  whom  anything  is  known.  Why  it  is  I 
know  not,  but  from  works  on  philology  it  appears  that 
the  Highland  dialect  has  been  least  studied,  and  for 
that  reason,  if  for  no  other,  it  is  perhaps  best  worth 
the  trouble.  I  thought  it  best  to  ignore  all  that  had 
been  said  or  written  on  the  subject,  to  go  direct  to 


UVTRODUOnON.  CXZl 

those  who  now  speak  the  language,  especially  to  those 
who  speak  no  other  tongue ;  to  men  who  use  words  as 
they  use  their  feet  and  hands,  utterly  unconscious  of 
design ;  who  talk  as  nature  and  their  parents  taught 
them ;  and  who  are  as  innocent  of  philology  as  their 
own  hahies  when  they  first  learn  to  say  ''  AbbL** 

I  requested  those  who  wrote  for  me  to  take  down 
tiie  words  as  they  were  spoken,  and  to  write  as  they 
would  speak  themselves ;  and  the  Gaelic  of  the  tales 
is  the  result  of  such  a  process.  The  names  of  the 
writers  are  given,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  they  have 
done  their  work  faitlifully  and  wolL  The  Gaelic  then 
is  noi  what  is  called  "  classical  Ghielic**  It  is  generally 
tiie  Ghielic  of  the  people — pure  from  the  source. 

Next,  as  to  orthography.  I  chose  one  man,  Mr 
Hector  MacLean,  whom  I  knew  to  be  free  from  prejudice, 
and  who  knows  the  rules  of  Gaelic  spelling,  to  correct 
the  press,  and  I  asked  him  to  spell  the  sounds  which 
he  heard,  according  to  the  principles  of  Gaelic  ortho- 
graphy, whenever  he  wrote  anything  down  himself ;  and 
in  correcting  the  press  for  the  work  of  others,  to  cor- 
rect nothing  but  manifest  mistakes,  and  this  he  has 
done,  as  it  appears  to  me,  very  welL 

In  Gaelic  there  are  certain  vowels,  and  combinations 
of  them,  which  represent  certain  sounds ;  and  they  are 
all  sounded,  and  idways  in  the  same  manner,  according 
to  theory f  but  in  practice  it  is  a  very  difierent  matter. 
In  speaking  Graelic,  as  is  the  case  in  other  lan- 
guages, various  modes  of  pronouncing  the  same  vowels 
exist  in  various  districts.  The  consonants  meet  and 
contend  and  extinguish  each  other,  and  change  the 
sound  of  the  vowels  in  Gaelic  more  than  in  any  other 
language  which  I  know  ;  but  they  fight  by  rule,  and 
tiie  conquered  and  the  slain  encumber  the  words  which 
are  their  battlefields,  as  dead  or  dying  consonants  stand- 

h 


CXXU  INTBODUOnON. 

ÌDg  bedde  iho  silent  h  which  kills  or  oontrols  them. 
One  difficulty  in  writing  Gaelic  from  dictation  is  to 
ascertain,  in  words  of  doubtfol  meanings  whether  the 
sound  o  is  to  be  expressed  by  bh  or  mh.  The  first 
letter  was  once  at  the  head  of  a  small  regiment  of  let- 
tersy  and  sounded  his  own  note  m  or  b,  and  so  he 
regulated  the  meaning  of  the  rest^  but  having  fallen 
in  with  an  A  in  an  oblique  case,  and  being  changed 
thereby  to  v,  the  whole  history  of  the  word  must  be 
known  before  it  can  be  settled  whether  it  should  begin 
with  mh  or  òA,  and  it  is  much  more  difficult  in  other 
cases,  where  the  letter  is  silenced  altogether.  My 
mother,  if  Gaelic,  might  become  vy  voiher — father,  aiher^ 
but  the  sounds  would  be  spelt  mhoikert  /haiher.  The 
meaning  in  a  book  depends  on  the  spelling,  but  in 
speaking,  it  is  a  different  matter.  There  are  shades  of 
sound  which  an  ear  used  to  a  language  can  detect^  but 
which  letters  are  wholly  unfitted  to  expresa 

Gaelic  scholars,  then,  who  have  a  stcmdard  for  Gaelic 
writing,  and  who  adhere  to  it  strictly,  will  probably  find 
much  which  will  appear  to  them  erroneous  spelling. 

An  English  scholar  reading  Sir  Walter  Scott^s 
novels  will  find  plenty  of  words  which  are  not  in 
Johnson's  Dictionary,  and  a  student  of  Pickwick  will 
find  much  in  Sam  Weller^s  conversation  wliich  ho  will 
not  discover  in  that  form  in  Shakspeara 

Had  I  foimd  stories  in  the  Isle  of  Wight  I  should 
have  spelt  good  morning  good  mamin,  because  it  is  so 
pronounced  ;  falbh  is  spelt  folbh  when  a  stoiy  comes 
from  some  of  the  Western  Islands,  because  it  is  so 
prouoimced  there ;  and  for  the  same  reason  iad  is  spelt 
eud.  I  have  no  doubt  there  are  errora  I  can  only 
vouch  for  having  chosen  men  who  did  their  best  in  a 
very  difficult  matter ;  for  I  do  not  believe  that  there 
are  ten  men  now  living  who  would  write  a  hundred 


< 


HITBODUCfTION.  CZXÌÌÌ 

lines  of  Gkielic  off  band  and  spell  them  in  the  same 
way.  I  very  much  doubt  if  ten  men  ever  did  liye  at 
the  same  time  who  would  have  agreed  as  to  Gaelic 
spelling ;  and  I  know  that  I  find  forms  of  words  in 
books  which  I  haye  very  rarely  heard  in  conversation. 
For  example,  the  plural  in  iibh  (iv)  is  very  rare,  the 
common  form  is  an. 

The  spelling  of  the  first  book  printed  in  the  Gaelic 
language.  Bishop  Carswell's  Prayer-book,  1567,  is  not 
the  same  as  the  spelling  of  the  Gaelic  Bible.  The  Gaelic 
names  in  old  charters  are  not  spelt  according  to  modern 
rule.  The  old  Gaelic  manuscripts  in  the  Advocates' 
Library  ore  spolt  in  various  ways.  Every  man  who 
has  written  Gaelic  for  me,  spoils  words  variously. 
Manks  spelling  is  phonetic  Irish  spelling  is  different ; 
and  where  there  is  so  little  authority,  I  hope  to  be  for- 
given if  I  have  ventured  to  ask  men  to  follow  their 
own  road.  I  hope  they  will  be  forgiven  if  they  have 
taken  a  short  cut  to  gain  a  particular  object,  and  if  they 
have  left  the  beaten  path. 

For  the  translation  I  am  responsible,  and  I  feel 
that  the  English  needs  excuse.  It  has  been  the  fashion 
so  far  to  translate  Gaelic  freely ;  that  is,  to  give  the 
sense  of  the  passage  without  caring  much  for  the  sense 
of  words.  One  result  is,  that  dictionaries  give  so 
many  meanings  that  they  are  almost  useless  to  any  one 
ignorant  of  Gaelic,  lliere  are  many  words  in  these 
tales  which  were  new  to  me,  and  I  have  repeatedly 
been  driven  to  gatlier  their  meaning  from  the  context, 
or  to  ask  for  it  at  the  source,  because  of  the  multitude 
of  contradictory  explanations  given  in  dictionaries. 
Let  me  take  one  woid  as  an  example.  In  the  first  tale 
the  hero  meets  Cu  beano  na  coill  uainb,  and  the 
meaning  turned  on  the  word  Siang.  To  that  word 
the    following    meanings     are    attached  : — Slender, 


CXXIT  INTBODUOnOK. 

alender-waisted,  hungry,  hungry-looking^  knk,  lean, 
active^  handsome,  strong;  (applied  to  a  shirt-f^nt), 
fine ;  **  Sad  am  I  this  day  arising  the  breast  of  my 
shirt  is  not  geang  /*  (applied  to  food  in  a  proverb),  meat 
makes  men  "  seang ;"  (applied  to  hinds  in  an  ode),  neat ; 
(applied  to  a  horse),  spirited ;  also  slim,  small,  small- 
bellied,  gaunt,  nimble^  agile ;  (applied  to  lady),  slender- 
vraisted.  On  looking  further  it  appears  that  Sbanqan 
is  an  ant ;  that  ShunkA  is  the  Dakotah  for  all  animals 
of  the  dog  species,  and  that  the  word  came  to  be  applied 
to  a  horse,  as  spirit  dog,  when  horses  came  first  to 
that  country ;  and  it  further  appears  that  there  is  a 
word  in  broad  Scotch  which  nearly  fits  the  Gktelic, 
Swank;  that  Sinq  means  a  lion  in  India;  and  that  the 
horses  of  the  sun  wore  swankas  with  beautiful  steps 
in  Sanscrit.  It  seemed  to  mo  that  the  phrase  might  bo 
thus  freely  translated  **  The  Forest  Lion.*' 

But  though  it  seemed  to  me  possible  I  might  be 
^entirely  wrong,  so  I  gave  the  meaning  of  the  words, 
about  which  there  could  be  no  mistake  : — 

CU     BBANO    NA     OOHX*     UAINB. 

Dog    slim  of  the  wood     green. 

My  belief  is,  that  the  word  was  an  adjective,  de- 
scriptiye  of  the  qualities  of  a  lion  whereyer  their  like- 
ness is  to  bo  found — as  strength,  activity,  high  courage, 
bold  bearing,  slender  form,  hunger,  satiety ;  but  I  did 
not  venture  to  translate  ou  bbano  by  "  /ion,"  nor  by 
"  greyhound,**  as  I  was  advised  to  do.  I  translated  it  by 
those  words  which  seem  to  give  the  present  meaning 
of  the  Qaelic.  Cu,  a  dog;  bbano,  slim;  and  the  phrase 
stands,  "The  slim  dog  of  the  gteen  wood.** 

And  so  throughout  I  have  aimed  at  giving  the  pre- 
sent real  meaning  of  every  separate  word,  but  so  as  to 
give  its  true  meaning  in  the  passage  in  which  it  occurs. 


INTRODUOnOK.  'CXXV 

Where  I  have  not  been  able  to  do  boihy  I  bare  tried 
to  keep  as  cloee  as  I  could  to  the  original  idea  involved. 
For  example,  "  In  the  month  of  night  **  is  new  to  £ng« 
lish,  bat  it  is  comprehensible,  and  it  is  the  exact  mean- 
ing of  the  phrase  commonly  used  to  express  the  first 
coming  on  of  darkness.  The  expression  is  poetical  It 
seems  to  refer  to  some  old  mythical  notion  that  the 
son  went  into  a  cave  or  a  tent  to  sleep,  for  '*  Take  thy 
sleep  in  thy  cave  *'  is  a  line  in  Ossian's  *'  Address  to 
the  Sun,**  and  though  it  was  suggested  to  me  to  alter 
this  translation,  and  make  it "  good  Englisli,"  I  thou^^t 
it  best  to  adliere  to  my  original  plan.  Generally  where 
the  phrase  occurs  it  is  translated  ''  in  the  mouth  of 
nighty**  though  I  was  advised  to  write,  "  in  the  dusk,** 
"<  in  the  evening,"  '<  at  nightfaU,"  ''  in  the  manUe  of 
night,-  "at  twilight^-  "  in  the  grey  of  the  evening." 

I  admit  that  all  these  phrases  express  ideas  which 
might  be  attached  to  the  words ;  but  what  could  an 
unfortunate  student  make  of  a  passage  in  which  a  word 
meaning  mouth  according  to  all  dictionaries,  should 
seem  to  mean  mantle^  or  faìl^  or  grey.  It  is  veiy  mucli 
easier  to  write  naturally  and  tnmslate  freely ;  and  as 
I  have  tried  hard  to  make  my  translation  a  close  one,  I 
hope  the  bad  English  will  be  forgiven. 

Those  only  who  have  tried  to  turn  Gaelic  into  Eng- 
lish can  understand  the  difficulty.  There  are  in  fact 
many  Gaelic  phrases  which  will  not  go  into  English  at 
alL  For  example,  tha  so  aoam  (I  have  this),  is  ihi$ 
at  me^  or  with  me,  or  by  me^  is  a  phrase  which  cannot 
be  rendered  for  want  of  a  word  equivalent  to  ao  or  aio, 
which  expresses  position  and  possession,  and  is  com- 
bined with  am^  cid,  0,  tim,  lòA,  and  changed  to  aca  to 
express  the  persona  Gaelic  will  not  bear  literal  trans- 
lation into  English,  but  I  have  tried  to  give  the  real 
meaning  of  eveiy  woid  as  nearly  as  I  could,  and  to 


OXXYÌ  JlTRODUOnOK. 

give  it  by  using  the  English  word  which  most  lesembled 
the  Gaelic ;  and  thus  I  have  unexpectedly  fallen  in 
with  a  number  of  English  words  which  seem  to  haye  the 
same  origin  as  Qaelic,  if  they  are  not  survivors  of  the 
language  of  the  ancient  Britons.  I  have  translated  Claidh- 
■AMH,  pronounced  Glaiv,  by  glave,  Traill  by  thrall, 
and  so  throughout  wherever  I  have  thought  of  an  Eng- 
lish word  that  resembled  a  word  admitted  to  be  Gaelic. 

It  is  my  own  opinion,  and  it  is  that  of  Mr.  Mac- 
Lean,  that  the  Gaelic  language  is  the  same  from  Cape 
Clear  in  Ireland  to  Cape  Wrath  in  Scotland,  though 
there  are  many  dialects,  and  there  is  much  variety. 
The  language  was  taught  to  me  by  a  native  of  Lorn, 
and  he  was  chosen  by  the  advice  of  men  well  able  to 
judge,  as  a  native  of  the  district  where  the  best  Gaelic 
was  then  supposed  to  be  spoken.  Speaking  from  my  own 
experience,  I  can  converse  freely  in  Lorn  Gaelic  with 
Scotch  Highlanders  in  every  district  of  Scotland,  and 
with  natives  of  Eathlin.  I  can  make  my  way  with 
natives  of  the  North  of  Ireland,  but  I  cannot  converse 
with  the  natives  of  some  Irish  districta  I  could 
not  make  the  Manksmen  understand  me,  but  I  can 
readily  understand  most  of  the  words  in  Manks  and  in 
Irish,  when  pronounced  separately. 

There  are  a  very  great  many  words  in  Welsh  and 
in  Breton  which  I  can  understand,  or  trace  when  they 
are  separately  spoken,  but  the  di£ference  in  these  is 
much  wider.  Peasants  come  from  Connaught  to  Islay, 
and  in  a  very  short  time  converse  freely,  though  their 
accent  betrays  them ;  but  an  Argyllshire  Highlander 
is  known  in  the  north  by  his  accent^  just  as  a  York- 
sliireman  would  bo  found  out  in  Somersetshire.  An 
Islay  man  is  detected  in  Mull,  and  a  native  of  one 
parish  in  Islay  is  detected  when  he  speaks  in  another 
but  though  there  are.  such  shades  of  difference,  a  High- 


INTBODUOnON*  CXXYÌl 

lander  lued  to  hear  langoagoB  yariouslj  spoken  should 
have  no  difficulty  in  understanding  any  dialect  of 
Oaelic  spoken  in  Scotland,  and  most  of  the  Irish  dialects. 
But  which  of  all  these  is  the  best  who  is  to  decide  t 
The  author  of  a  veiy  good  dictionary  says,  under  the 
word  ooiQ,  that  "in  the  islands  of  Aigyllshire  every  word 
is  pronounced  just  as  Adam  spoke  it"  Dr.  Johnson  pro- 
nounced the  whole  to  bo  the  rude  speech  of  a  barbarous 
people ;  and  the  Saxon  knew  as  much  of  Gaelic  as  the 
Gelt  did  of  Adam.  One  Gaelic  scholar  wished  to  change 
the  island  words ;  a  good  Highlander  told  me  that  Dal- 
mally  was  the  best  place  for  Gaelic,  another  was  all  for 
Western  Ross.  Nobody  has  a  good  word  for  Suther- 
land Graelic,  but  it  is  veiy  pure  nevertheless  in  some 
districts  j  north  country  men  are  all  for  Inverness.  I 
have  heard  excellent  Gaelic  in  the  Long  Island.  On 
the  whole,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  dialect  the  best 
which  resembles  the  largest  number  of  others,  and 
that  is  the  dialect  spoken  by  the  most  illiterate  in  the 
islands,  and  on  the  promontories  farthest  to  the  west. 
I  will  not  venture  to  name  any  district,  because  I  have 
no  wiah  to  contend  with  the  natives  of  all  tlie  others. 

The  spirit  of  nationality  is  one  which  has  a  large 
development  amongst  my  countrymen,  and  the  subject  of 
language  brings  it  out  in  strong  relief.  It  is  but  a 
phase  of  human  nature,  a  result  of  the  quality  which 
phrenologists  describe  as  combativeness,  and  it  seems 
to  be  common  to  all  the  races  classed  as  Indo-European. 

It  is  a  common  opinion  in  England  that  one  Eng- 
iishman  can  thrash  tliroe  Frenchmen ;  and  I  have  no 
ioubt  that  a  similar  opinion  prevails  in  France,  though 
[  do  not  know  the  fact  Highlanders  believe  that 
lowlandors  generally  are  soil  and  effeminate;  low- 
landers  think  that  mountaineers  are  savages.  An  Irish 
Celt  detests  his  brother  Celt  over  the  water.    A  Scotch 


•  •• 


exXYin  iHTBODUOnOK. 

Celt  calls  another  Eireaimacli  when  he  abases  him,  but 
let  a  common  foe  appear  and  they  will  all  combine. 

England,  Iielan(^  and  Scotland  are  up  in  armSi  with 
rifles  on  their  shoolders,  at  a  hint  of  the  approach  of  a 
Frenchman;  but  they  joined  France  with  heart  and 
hand  to  fight  the  Russian  and  the  Chinese ;  and  as  soon 
as  the  battle  was  over,  they  came  back  and  fought  at  home. 

The  English  lion  stirred  up  the  Scotch  lion  in  the 
English  press,  and  the  northern  lion  growled  oyer  his 
wrongs.  Ireland  began  to  tell  of  the  tyrant  Saxon, 
and  a  stranger  might  think  that  the  Union  was  about 
to  fall  to  piece&  It  is  not  so ;  it  is  but  a  manifes- 
tation of  superfluous  energy  which  breaks  out  in  the 
other  ''union"  over  the  water,  and  makes  as  much 
noise  there  as  steam  blowing  off  elsewhera 

I  maintain  that  there  is  clironio  war  in  eyeiy  part 
of  her  Migesty's  dominions.  Not  long  ago  a  dispute 
arose  about  a  manner  of  catching  herrings.  One  set  of 
men  caught  them  with  drift-nets,  another  with  drag- 
nets, and  one  party  declared  that  the  other  violated  the 
law ;  blood  got  up,  and  at  lost  a  whole  fleet  of  fishing- 
boats  left  their  ground  and  sailed  twenty  miles  down 
to  attack  the  rival  fleet  in  form.  A  gun-boat  joined  the 
party,  and  peace  was  preserved ;  but  it  was  more  the 
result  of  a  calm,  which  enabled  the  light  row-boats  to 
escape  from  the  heavier  sailing  fleet  Both  parties  spoke 
the  same  language,  and  on  any  subject  but  herrings, 
they  would  have  backed  each  other  through  the  world. 

The  purchase  of  an  orange,  and  a  box  on  the  ear, 
grew  into  a  serious  riot  in  a  northern  town  last  year. 
The  fight  spread,  as  from  a  centre,  and  lasted  three 
days  ;  but  here  it  developed  itself  into  a  fight  between 
Celt  and  Saxon.  *  Both  sides  must  have  been  in  the 
wrong,  and  I  am  quite  sure  they  were  both  ignominiously 
defeated,  although  they  may  hold  the  contrary. 


INTRODUCTION.  CXZIX 

Eveiy  election  in  the  three  kingdoms-  ia  a  shame- 
fill  riot^  according  to  some  public  organ,  whose  party 
get  the  worst  of  it. 

There  is  a  regular  stand-up  fight  in  Paris  periodi- 
calljy  the  rest  of  Europe  goes  to  war  in  earnest  at 
every  opportunity,  and  when  there  are  no  national  or 
class  wars,  men  fight  as  individuals  all  over  the  world. 
I  was  once  at  Christmas  at  a  hurling  match  in  Ireland. 
The  game  was  played  on  ice  on  a  lake,  and  after  some 
hours  the  owner  of  the  lake  sent  down  a  Scotch  butler 
with  bread  and  cheese  and  whisky  for  the  players. 
They  gathered  about  the  cart  in  perfect  good  humour, 
when  suddenly,  without   cause,  an   excited  bankor^s 

clerk  shouted,  ''Hurroo  for "  (the  nearest  post  town), 

and  performed  a  kind  of  war  dance  on  the  outside  edge 
of  his  skates,  flourishing  a  stick  wildly,  and  chanting 
his  war  song,  "  T 11  bet  ere  a  man  in  J^igland,  Ireland, 
or  ScoTULND."  A  knobby  stick  rose  up  in  the  crowd, 
and  the  Scotch  butler  was  down ;  but  an  Irish  boy 
who  had  not  opened  his  moutii  was  the  next  He 
went  head-foremost  into  a  willow  bush  amongst  the 
snow,  and  three  men  in  frieze  great-coats  kicked  him 
with  nailed  shoes.  In  ten  minutes  the  storm  was 
over,  the  butler  was  up  again  in  his  cart  dispensing 
the  refreshments,  the  man  in  the  bush  was  consoling 
himself  with  a  dram,  and  all  was  peace.  But  that 
night  the  country  party  took  up  a  position  behind  a 
stone  wall,  and  when  the  others  came,  they  sallied  forth, 
and  there  was  a  bottle-royaL 

So  I  have  seen  a  parish  shinny  match  in  the  High- 
lands become  so  hot  and  furious,  that  the  leaders  were 
forced  to  get  two  pipers  and  march  their  troops  out  of 
the  field  in  opposite  directions,  to  prevent  a  civil  war 
of  parishes. 

And  so,  a  part  of  her  Migesty's  guards  having  gone 


cxxx  nmtoDUonoN. 

out  to  exerdae  at  Clewer,  and  being  stationed  as  "  the 
enemy"  at  some  pointy  obstinately  refused  to  ''retreat 
in  disorder ;."  but  stood  their  ground  vrith  such  deter- 
mination,  that  the  officers  had  to  sound  the  retreat  on 
both  sides  to  prevent  a  serious  battle. 

So  at  Eton,  shins  were  broken  in  my  tutor^s  foot- 
ball match  against  my  dame's ;  and  boys  iigured  them- 
selves in  rowing  frantically  for  the  honour  of  upper  or 
bwer  sixes. 

Two  twins,  who  were  so  like,  that  one  used  to  skip 
round  a  pillar  and  answer  to  his  brother^s  name,  and 
who  probably  would  have  died  for  each  other,  still  fought 
in  private  so  earnestly,  that  one  carried  the  mark  of  a 
shovel  on  his  forehead  for  many  a  long  day ;  and  so 
boys  fight^  and  men  fight,  individually  and  collectively, 
as  parties,  races,  and  nations,  all  over  Europe,  if  not 
all  over  the  world. 

I  decline  to  state  my  opinion  as  to  which  Ghielic  is  the 
best,  for  that  is  a  peculiarly  delicate  subject^  my  coimtry- 
men  having  ceased  to  use  their  dirks,  are  apt  to  fight 
with  pens,  and  I  would  rather  see  the  children  of  the 
Gktel,  in  this  as  in  other  matters,  fighting  shoulder  to 
shoulder  against  foes,  and  working  side  by  side  with 
their  frienda. 

The  Gaelic  language  is  essentially  descriptive,  rich  in 
words,  which  by  their  soimd  alone  express  ideas.  The 
thundering  sound  of  the  waves  beating  on  the  shore  is 
well  expressed  by  Tonn,  a  wave ;  Lunn,  a  heavy 
Atlantic  swell 

The  harsh  rattling  and  crushing  of  thunder  by  Tair- 

NBANAOH. 

The  plunge  of  a  heavy  body  thrown  into  deep 
water  by  Tunn,  plunge. 

The  noise  of  snull  stones  and  fine  gravel  streaming 
seawards  from  a  beach  in  the  undertow  is  heard  in 
SoRiTHBAN,  gravel 


IKTRODUOnOK.  CZXXÌ 

The  tinkling  of  shells  as  they  slip  and  slide  on  the 
sand  at  the  edge  of  the  sea  is  heard  in  Sliqban,  shells. 

The  hard  sharp  knocking  of  stones  in  olaoh,  s 
stone,  and  thence  all  manner  of  oomponnd  ideas  follow 
as  OLACHAN^  a  village ;  olaohair,  a  mason ;  glagharan,  a 
stone  chat 

The  names  of  domestic  animals  usually  resemble 
their  notes.  Bo,  a  cow;  gobhar,  a  goat;  caora,  s 
sheep ;  laogh,  a  calf.  Words  such  as  barkings  growl- 
ing, squealinf^  coughing,  sneezing,  suggest  the  idea  by 
the  sound,  as  they  do  in  English.  Many  names  of 
beasts  and  birds,  which  are  not  of  this  class,  are  de- 
scriptive  in  another  sensa  The  grouse  are  the  reddish 
brown  cock  and  hen  ;  the  fox,  the  reddish  brown  dog ; 
the  wolf,  the  fierce  dog;  the  sandpiper,  the  little 
driolichan  of  the  strand.  The  crow  is  the  flayer,  the 
falcon,  the  darter ;  the  otter  the  brown  or  black  beast. 

It  is  a  language  full  of  metaphorical  and  descrìptÌTe 
expressions.  **  He  went  to  the  beginning  of  fortune ; " 
**  he  put  tlie  world  under  his  head ; "  "he  took  his  own 
body  home  ;"  "he  wont  away" — that  is,  he  went  home 
sick,  and  he  died.  "There  were  great  masses  of  rain, 
and  there  was  night  and  there  was  darknesa"  "  Ye 
must  not  be  out  amidst  the  nighty  she  is  dark." 

It  is  rich  in  words  expreesiye  of  war,  by  no  means 
rich  in  words  belonging  to  the  arts.  Crakn,  a  tree, 
means  a  mast^  the  bar  of  a  door,  a  plough,  and  many 
other  things  made  of  wood  Bbairt  means  a  loom, 
a  block  and  tackling,  and  engines  of  various  kinda 

It  seems  to  contain  words  to  express  the  great 
features  of  nature,  which  can  be  traced  in  the  names 
of  rivers  and  mountains  in  a  great  part  of  Europe, 
such  as  KAS,  a  rapid  (pr.  ace) ;  ath  (pr.  A.  and  Av.),  a 
ford ;  AMHATKN,  ODHAiNN,  ABHAJKN,  a  river,  variously 
pronounced,  avainj  a-toenj  avixin^  o-tn,  o-tin,  o-tL     Calais 


CXXXll  INTBODUOnOK. 

I  take  to  be  gala,  a  harbour ;  the  word  has  no  mean- 
ing in  French..  Boulogne  might  be  Biul  Obhainn, 
rivex^B  mouth ;  Donau,  the  Danube,  might  mean  the 
brown  river.  Tana  might  mean  the  shallow,  and  both 
are  descriptive. 

Ehine  might  mean  the  division,  and  there  is  a  dis- 
trict in  Islay  whose  name  is  pronoimced  exactly  as  the 
name  of  the  great  German  river.  Balaclava  is  exceed- 
ingly like  the  name  of  an  Islay  farm,  and  might  mean 
kite's  town.  Bails  CHLAiiHAur ;  but  though  such  re- 
semblances can  hardly  fail  to  occur  to  any  one  who 
knows  the  Gaelic  language,  it  requires  time  and  care- 
ful study  to  follow  out  such  a  subject^  and  it  is  foreign 
to  my  purpose.  There  are  plenty  of  Gaelic  words 
which  closely  resemble  words  in  other  European  lan- 
guages. Amongst  the  few  Sanscrit  words  which  I  have 
been  able  to  glean  from  books,  I  find  several  whicli  re- 
semble Gaelic  words  of  similar  meaning — Jwala,  light 
flame,  has  many  Gaelic  relations  in  words  which  mean 
shining,  fire,  lightning,  the  moon,  white,  swan. 

Dtu,  day,  is  like  an  diugh,  to-day ;  Mirah,  the 
ocean,  like  muir  mara,  the  sea ;  but  this  again  is  foreign 
to  my  purpose. 

My  wish  has  been  simply  to  gather  some  specimens 
of  the  wreck  so  plentifully  strewn  on  the  coasts  of  old 
Scotland,  and  to  carry  it  where  others  may  examine  it; 
rather  to  point  out  where  curious  objects  worth  some 
attention  may  be  found,  than  to  gather  a  great  heap.  I 
have  not  sought  for  stranded  forests.  I  have  not 
polished  thorough  sticks  which  I  found;  I  have  but 
cut  ofi*  a  very  few  offending  splinters,  and  I  trust  that 
some  may  be  found  who  will  not  utterly  despise  such 
rubbish,  or  scorn  the  magic  wliich  peasants  attribute  to 
a  fairy  egg. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

SepUmber  ÌSeO. 

Thb  stones  which  follow  page  266  of  the  first  Tolume 
were  intended  for  the  second,  but  it  has  been  found 
more  convenient  to  place  them  in  YoL  L  Those  which 
were  to  have  been  given  as  specimens  of  tales  probably 
derived  from  the  ''Arabian  Nights,"  have  been  left 
ont  to  make  room  for  others. 

In  August  and  September  1860  I  again  visited  the 
Western  Highlands,  carrying  with  me  nearly  the  whole 
of  these  two  volumes  in  print  I  have  repeatedly 
made  the  men  who  told  the  stories  to  my  collectors 
repeat  Uiem  to  me,  while  I  compared  their  words  with 
the  book.  In  two  instances  I  liavo  mode  men  repeat 
stories  which  I  had  myself  written  down  in  English 
from  their  Gaelic,  and  I  have  found  no  important 
variation  in  any  instance.  I  find  that  the  story  is 
generally  much  longer  as  told,  but  that  it  is  lengthened 
by  dialogue,  which  has  often  little  to  do  with  t^e  inci- 
dents, though  sometimes  worth  preservation.  I  have 
now  seen  most  of  the  men  whose  names  are  mentioned, 
and  I  have  myself  heard  versions  of  nearly  every  story 
in  the  book  repeated,  either  by  those  from  whom  they 
were  got,  or  by  people  who  live  far  from  Uiem, — for 
instance,  John  Mackinnon,  stableman  at  Broadford,  in 
Skye,  told  me  in  September  a  version  of  Na  1 8,  which 
contains  nearly  all  the  incidents  which  I  had  before 
got  from  Islay,  and  several  which  were  new  to  me. 


CXZXIT  F08T80RIPT. 

Including  thoae  which  are  printed,  I  have  more 
than  two  hundred  stories  written  down  in  Gaelic.  I 
have  about  an  equal  number  written  in  English  from 
Gaelic,  and  I  have  heard  a  great  many  more^  while 
Mr.  Hector  MacLean,  Mr.  Dewar,  Mr.  Carmichael, 
Mr.  Torrie,  Mr.  Eraser,  and  others,  are  still  writing 
down  for  me,  in  the  Long  Island,  in  Argyllshire,  and 
elsewhere. 

K I  have  time  and  opportunity,  I  hope  hereafter  to 
arrange  these  materials ;  to  place  (he  incidents  in  each 
story  according  to  the  migority  of  versions,  and  so 
strive  to  get  the  old  form  of  the  legends;  for  I  am 
convinced  that  much  is  to  be  learned  from  this  despised 
old  rubbish,  though  it  must  be  sifted  before  it  can  be 
turned  to  proper  use. 

In  conclusion,  I  would  tender  my  thanks  once 
more  to  all  those  who  have  given  me  their  assistance. 
In  particular,  I  wish  to  express  my  sense  of  obligation 
to  the  Hev.  Thomas  Maclauchlan,  Free  Church  Gaelic 
minister  in  Edinburgh,  who  has  contributed  many 
stories,  written  down  by  himself  from  the  dictation  of 
one  of  his  parishioners,  and  who  has  himself  published 
a  volume  of  Celtic  gleaninga 

I  am  also  much  indebted  to  the  Eev.  Mr.  Beatson, 
minister  of  Borra,  who  aided  Mr.  MacLean  in  his  search 
for  legends,  and  who  shewed  much  kindness  to  myself ; 
and  I  have  received  assistance  from  other  clergymen  of 
various  persuasions,  including  tlie  Rev.  Thomas  Patti- 
son  in  Islay.  I  am  happy  to  have  it  in  my  power  to 
mention  such  names ;  for  the  strange  idea  possesses  the 
people  in  many  districts,  that  to  repeat  the  most  harmless 
sgeulachd  is  a  grievous  sin,  and  tliat  fables,  and  poems, 
and  novels  of  every  sort  ought  to  be  put  down  and 
exterminated,  because  they  are  fictions.  That  spirit,  if 
strong  enough  and  put  in  action,  would  sweep  away 


POSTSCRIPT. 


CXXXV 


mach  of  the  literature  of  ancient  and  modem  times ; 
and  it  seems  strange  to  have  to  remonstrate  against  it 
now-a-days.  Still,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  spirit 
exists,  and  I  am  grateful  for  the  support  of  enlightened 
liberal  men.  Surely  the  best  treatment  for  **  Super- 
stition,'' if  this  be  superstition,  is  to  drag  it  into  lights 
the  very  worst  to  dignify  it  by  persecution,  and  strive 
to  hide  it 


POPULAR  TALES 


or 


THE  WEST  HIGHLANDS. 


L 
THE  YOUNG  KING  OF  EASAIDH  BUAKH. 

From  Jmdm  Wilaon,  blind  fiddler,  IiUj. 

THE  young  king  of  Eaaaidh  Buadh,  after  he  got  the 
hcinliip  to  himself^  was  at  much  meny  makings 
looking  out  what  would  suit  him,  and  what  would 
oome  into  hia  humour.  There  was  a  Gruaoaoh  near  his 
dwelling,  who  was  called  Gruagach  carsalach  donn — 
(The  brown  curly  long-haired  one.) 

He  thought  to  himself  that  he  would  go  to  play  a 
game  with  him.  He  went  to  the  Seanagal  (soothsayer) 
and  he  said  to  him — "  I  am  made  up  that  I  will  go  to 
game  with  the  Gruagach  carsalach  donn.'*  **  Aha  1  ** 
said  the  Seanagal,  ''  art  thou  such  a  man  t  Art  thou 
so  insolent  that  thou  art  going  to  play  a  game  against 
the  Gruagach  carsalach  donn  t  T  were  my  advioe  to 
thee  to  change  thy  nature  and  not  to  go  there.**  **  I 
wont  do  that,**  said  he.  "T  were  my  advice  to  thee,  if 
thou  shouldst  win  of  the  Gruagach  carsalach  donn,  to 

B 


2  WST  HIQIILAND  TALBL 

get  the  cropped  rough-skinned  maid  that  is  behind  the 
door  for  the  worth  of  thy  gaming^  and  many  a  turn  will 
he  put  off  before  thou  gettest  her."  He  lay  down  that 
nighty  and  if  it  was  early  that  the  day  came,  'twas  earlier 
than  that  that  the  king  arose  to  hold  gaming  against 
the  Gruagach.  He  reached  the  Gruagach,  he  blessed 
the  Gruagach,  and  the  Gruagach  blessed  him.  Said  the 
Gruagach  to  him,  **  Oh  young  king  of  Easaidh  Buadh, 
what  brought  thee  to  me  to-day  f  Wilt  thou  game 
with  me  f "  They  began  and  they  played  the  game. 
The  king  won.  ^*  lift  the  stake  of  thy  gaming  so  that 
I  may  get  (leave)  to  be  moving."  **  The  stake  of  my 
gaming  is  to  give  me  the  cropped  rough-skinned  girl 
thou  hast  behind  the  door."  '*  Many  a  fair  woman 
have  I  within  besides  her,"  said  tlie  GruagacL  "  I 
will  take  none  but  that  one."  ''  Blessing  to  thee  and 
cursing  to  thy  teacher  of  learning."  They  went  to  the 
house  of  the  Gruagach,  and  the  Gruagach  set  in  order 
twenty  young  girls.  *'  lift  now  thy  choice  from 
amongst  these."  One  was  coming  out  after  another, 
and  every  one  that  would  come  out  she  would  say,  **  I 
am  she ;  art  thou  not  silly  that  art  not  taking  mo  with 
thee  t"  But  the  Seonagal  had  asked  him  to  take  none 
but  the  last  one  that  would  come  out  When  the  last 
one  came  out,  he  said,  ''This  is  mine."  He  went  with 
her,  and  when  they  were  a  bit  from  the  house,  her  form 
altered,  and  she  is  the  loveliest  woman  that  was  on 
earth.  The  king  was  going  home  full  of  joy  at  getting 
such  a  charming  woman. 

He  reached  the  house,  and  he  went  to  rest  If  it 
was  early  that  the  day  arose,  it  was  earher  than  that 
that  the  king  arose  to  go  to  game  with  the  Gruagach. 
"  I  must  absolutely  go  to  gtfme  against  the  Gruagach 
to-day/'  said  he  to  his  wife.  "  Oh  1"  said  she,  "  that's 
my  father,  and  if  thou  goest  to  game  with  him,  take 


THE  TOUKO  KING  OF  BABAIDH  RUADH.  $ 

nothing  for  the  stake  of  thy  play  but  the  don  shaggy  i/ 
filly  that  has  the  stick  saddle  on  her.** 

The  king  went  to  encounter  the  Qmagach,  and 
sorely  the  blessing  of  the  two  to  each  other  was  not 
beyond  what  it  was  before.  "  Yes  1 "  said  the  Groa- 
gachy  "how  did  thy  young  bride  please  thee  yesterday  t** 
^  She  pleased  ftdly."  ''  Hast  thou  come  to  game  with 
me  to-day  t  **  "I  came.*'  They  began  at  the  gaming^ 
and  the  king  won  from  the  Gruagach  on  that  day. 
"  lift  the  stake  of  thy  gaming,  and  be  sharp  about  it.*' 
**  The  stake  of  my  gaming  is  the  dun  shaggy  filly  on 
which  is  the  stick  saddle.** 

They  went  away  together.  They  reached  the  dun 
shaggy  filly.  He  took  her  out  from  the  stable,  and  the 
king  put  his  leg  over  her  and  she  was  the  swift 
heroine  1  He  went  home.  His  wife  had  her  hands 
spread  before  him,  and  they  were  cheery  together  that 
night  "  I  would  rather  myself^*'  said  his  wife,  "  that 
thou  shouldost  not  go  to  game  with  the  Gruagach  any 
more,  for  if  he  wins  he  will  put  trouble  on  thy  head."  ^  .^^  ^ , 
**  I  won't  do  that)**  said  ho,  *'  I  tinll  go  to  play  with  ^ 
him  to-day.** 

He  went  to  play  with  the  Gruagach.  When  he 
arrired,  he  thought  the  Gruagach  was  seized  with  joy. 
"  Hast  thou  come  t  **  he  said.  "  I  came.**  They  played 
the  game,  and,  as  a  cursed  victory  for  the  king,  the  Grua- 
gach won  that  day.  ''  lift  the  stake  of  thy  game,**  said 
the  young  king  of  Easaidh  Ruadh,  ''  and  be  not  heavy 
on  mo,  for  I  cannot  stand  to  it'*  The  stake  of  my 
play  is,**  said  he,  *'  that  I  lay  it  as  crosses  and  as  spells 
on  thee,  and  as  the  defect  of  the  year,  that  the  cropped 
rough-skinned  creature,  more  uncouth  and  unworthy 
than  thou  thyself^  should  take  thy  head,  and  thy  neck, 
and  thy  life's  look  off,  if  thou  dost  not  get  for  me  the 
Glaivbofuqht  of  the  king  of  the  oak  windows.**   The  *" 


king  went  home^  hasvìly,  poorij,  ^oomi]^.  TbeTOung 
queen  came  meeting  him,  and  ahe  aaid  to  him,  **  Moh- 
looai  I  my  pity  I  t^re  is  nothing  with  thee  to-nj^ii" 
Her  fiioe  and  her  splendour  gayeaome  pleasure  to  the 
king  when  he  looked  on  her  brow,  but  when  he  aai 
y  on  a  chair  to  draw  her  towanla  him,  his  heart  was  ao 
«  heayy  that  the  chair  broke  under  him. 

""What  ails  thee,  or  what  should  aQ  thee,  that 
thou  mi^test  not  tdl  it  to  met"  said  the  queen. 
The  king  told  how  it  happened.  ^Hal**  said  she^ 
^what  should'st  thou  mind,  and  that  thou  hast  the 
best  wife  in  Erin,  and  the  second  best  horse  in  Erin. 
If  thou  takest  my  advice,  thou  wilt  come  (well)  out  of 
all  these  things  yei" 

If  it  was  early  that  the  day  came^  it  was  earlier 
than  that  that  the  queen  arose^  and  she  set  order  in 
everything^  for  the  king  was  about  to  go  on  his  journey. 
She  set  in  order  the  dun  shaggy  filly,  on  which  was 
the  stick  saddle,  and  though  he  saw  it  as  wood,  it 
was  full  of  sparklings  with  gold  and  silver.  He  got 
on  it ;  the  queen  kissed  him,  and  she  wished  him  vic- 
tory of  battlefield&  '^  I  need  not  be  telling  thee  any- 
thing. Take  thou  the  advice  of  thine  own  she  comrade, 
the  filly,  and  she  will  tell  thee  what  thou  shouldest  da" 
Ho  act  out  on  his  journey,  and  it  was  not  dreary  to 
be  on  the  dun  steed. 

She  would  catch  the  swift  March  wind  that  would 
1)0  before^  and  the  swift  March  wind  would  not  catch  her. 
They  came  at  the  mouth  of  dusk  and  lateness,  to  the 
court  and  castle  of  the  king  of  the  oak  window& 

Said  the  dun  shaggy  filly  to  him,  ^'  We  are  at  the 
end  of  the  journey,  and  we  have  not  to  go  any  further ; 
take  my  advice,  and  I  will  take  thee  where  the  sword 
of  light  of  the  king  of  the  oak  windows  is,  and  if  it 
comes  with  thee  without  scrape  or  creak,  it  is  a  good 


THE  TOUKO  KINO  OF  BAaUDH  BUADH.  $ 

mark  on  our  journey.  The  king  is  now  at  his  dinner, 
and  the  sword  of  light  is  in  his  own  chamber.  There 
is  a  knob  on  its  end,  and  when  thou  catchest  the  sword, 
draw  it  softly  out  of  the  window  '  case.'  **  He  came 
to  the  window  where  the  sword  was.  He  caught  the 
sword  and  it  came  with  him  sofUy  till  it  was  at  its 
pointi  and  then  it  gave  a  sort  of  a  **  sgread.**  "  We  will 
now  be  going,**  said  the  filly.  ''  It  is  no  stopping  time 
for  us.  I  know  the  king  has  felt  us  taking  the  sword 
out"  He  kept  his  sword  in  his  hand,  and  they  went 
away,  and  when  they  were  a  bit  forward,  the  filly  said, 
**  We  will  stop  now,  and  look  thou  whom  thou  seeat 
behind  thee."  *'  I  see,**  said  he,  "  a  swarm  of  brown 
hones  coming  madly."  **  Wo  are  swifter  ourselves  than 
these  yet,"  said  the  filly.  They  went,  and  when  they 
were  a' good  distance  forward,  "  Look  now,"  said  she  ; 
**  whom  seest  thou  coming  t "  ''I  see  aswarm  of  black 
horses,  and  one  white-faced  black  horse,  and  he  is  com- 
ing and  coming  in  madness,  and  a  man  on  him.** 
**  That  is  the  best  horÌM  in  Eiin ;  it  is  my  brother,  and  ( 
he  got  three  months  more  nursing  than  I,  and  he  will 
oome  past  me  with  a  whirr,  and  try  if  thou  wilt  be  so 
ready,  that  when  he  comes  past  me^  thou  wilt  take  the 
head  off  the  man  who  is  on  him ;  for  in  the  time  of 
passing  he  will  look  at  thee,  and  there  is  no  sword  in 
his  court  will  take  off  his  head  but  the  very  sword  that  > 
is  in  thy  hand.**  When  this  man  was  going  pasty  he  *^ 
gave  his  head  a  turn  to  look  at  him,  he  drew  the  sword 
and  he  took  his  head  of^  and  the  shaggy  dun  filly 
caught  it  in  her  mouth. 

This  was  the  king  of  the  oak  windows.     **  Leap    i/ 
on  the  black  horse,"  said  she,  ''  and  leave  the  carcass 
there,  and  be  going  home  as  fast  as  he  will  take  thee 
home,  and  I  will  be  coming  as  best  I  may  after  thee.'' 
He  leaped  on  the  black  horse,  and,  ^mmref/he  was  the 


6  WBBT  HIQIILAND  TAUS. 

swift  hercuand  they  reached  the  house  long  befoie  day. 
The  qaeen  was  without  rest  till  he  arrived.  They 
raised  mnsic^  and  they  laid  down  woe.  On  the  morrow, 
he  saidy  ''I  am  obliged  to  go  to  see  the  Qruagach 
to-day,  to  tiy  if  my  spells  will  be  loose.**  **  Mind  that 
it  is  not  as  usual  the  Gruagach  will  meet  thee.  He 
will  meet  thee  furiously,  wildly,  and  he  will  say  to  thee, 
didst  thou  get  the  swoid  f  and  say  thou  that  thou  hast 
got  it ;  he  will  say,  how  didst  thou  get  it  f  and  thou 
shalt  say,  if  it  were  not  the  knob  that  was  on  its  end 
I  had  not  got  ii  He  will  ask  thee  again,  how  didst 
thou  get  the  sword  t  and  thou  wilt  say,  if  it  were  not 
the  knob  that  was  on  its  end,  I  had  not  got  it  Then 
he  will  give  himself  a  lift  to  look  what  knob  is  on  the 
sword,  and  thou  wilt  see  a  mole  on  the  right  side  of 
his  neck,  and  stab  the  point  of  the  sword  in  the  mole ; 
and  if  thou  dost  not  hit  the  mole,  thou  and  I  are  done. 
His  brother  was  the  king  of  the  oak  windows,  and  he 
knows  that  till  the  other  had  lost  his  life,  he  would 
J  not  part  with  the  sword.  The  death  of  the  two  is  in 
the  sword,  but  there  is  no  other  sword  that  will  touch 
them  but  ii*'  The  queen  kissed  him,  and  she  called 
on  victory  of  battlefields  (to  be)  with  him,  and  he  went 
away. 

Tlie  Gruagach  met  him  in  the  very  same  place 
whore  he  was  befora  ''Didst  thou  get  the  sword f* 
"  I  got  tlie  sword."  ''  How  didst  thou  get  the  sword  f  ** 
''  If  it  were  not  the  knob  that  was  on  its  end  I  had  not 
got  it,'*  said  he.  ''  Let  me  see  the  sword.'*  ''  It  was 
not  laid  on  me  to  let  thee  see  ii**  ''  How  didst  thou 
get  the  sword  t**  ''  If  it  were  not  the  knob  that  was 
on  its  end,  I  got  it  not**  The  Gruagach  gave  his  head 
a  lift  to  look  at  the  sword ;  he  saw  the  mole  ;  he  was 
sharp  and  quick,  and  he  thrust  the  sword  into  the 
i/  mole,  and  the  Gruagach  fell  down  dead. 


THl  TOUNO  KINO  OF  BABAIDH  RUADH.  7 

He  letumed  home,  and  when  he  returned  home^ 
he  found  his  set  of  keepers  and  watchers  tied  there 
back  to  back,  without  wife,  or  horse,  or  sweetheart  of 
his,  bat  was  taken  away. 

When  he  loosed  them,  they  said  to  him,  **  A  great 
giant  came  and  he  took  away  thy  wife  and  thy  two 
horses.**  ''  Sleep  will  not  come  on  mine  eyes  nor  rest 
on  my  head  till  I  get  my  wife  and  my  two  horses  back.** 
In  saying  this,  he  went  on  his  journey.  He  took  the 
side  that  the  track  of  the  horses  was,  and  he  followed 
them  diligently.  The  dusk  and  lateness  were  coming 
on  him,  and  no  stop  did  he  make  till  he  reached  the 
side  of  the  green  wood.  He  saw  whore  there  was  the 
forming  of  the  site  of  a  fire,  and  he  thought  that  he 
would  put  fire  upon  it,  and  thus  he  would  put  the  night 
past  therei 

He  was  not  long  here  at  the  fire,  when  ''  Cu  Ssako'*  ^ 
of  the  green  wood  came  on  him. 

He  blessed  the  dog,  and  the(dog  blessed  him. 

"  Oov  1  ooT  1**  said  the  dog.  "  I3ad  was  the  plight 
of  thy  wife  "and  thy  two  horses  here  last  night  with 
the  big  giant"  **  It  is  that  which  has  set  me  so  pained 
and  pitiful  on  their  track  to-night ;  but  there  is  no  help 
for  it'*  "Ohl  king,**  said  the  dog,  '<thou  must  not 
be  without  meat'*  The  dog  went  into  the  wood. 
He  brought  out  creatures,  and  (they  made  them  meat 
oontentedly.  \  ''  I  rather  think  myself^'*  said  the  king, 
"  that  I  may  turn  home ;  that  I  cannot  go  near  that 
giant**  "Don*t  do  that,**  said  the  dog.  "There's 
no  fear  of  thee,  king.  Thy  matter  will  grow  with  thee. 
Thou  must  not  be  here  without  sleeping.**  **  Fear  will 
not  let  me  sleep  without  a  warranty.**  "  Sleep  thou,** 
said  the  dog,  "  and  I  will  warrant  thee.**  The  king  let 
himself  down,  stretched  out  at  the  side  of  the  fire,  and 
he  slept     When  the  watch  broke,  the  dog  said  to  him, 


8  Wnr  HIOHLAHD  TAUB. 


''  Rise  up,  king^  till  thoa  gettest  a  moxsel  of  meat  that 
will  strengthen  thee,  till  thou  wilt  be  going  on  thy 
journey.  Now,"  said  the  dog^ ''  if  haidship  or  difficulty 
comes  on  thee,  ask  my  aid,  and  I  will  be  with  thee  in 
an  instant"  They  left  a  blessing  with  each  other,  and 
he  went  away.  In  the  time  of  dusk  and  lateness,  he 
came  to  a  great  precipice  of  rock,  and  there  was  the 
forming  of  the  site  of  a  fire. 
,  ,  He  thought  he  would  gather  dry  fuel,  and  that  he 

i'  , '  would  set  on  fire.  He  began  to  warm  himself  and  he 
'  was  not  long  thus  when  the  hojuy  hawk  of  the  grey 
rock  came  on  him.  ** Ooy !  opv  1"  said  sha  ''Bad 
was  the  plight  of  thy  wife  and  thy  two  horses  last  night 
with  the  big  giant"  ''  There  is  no  help  for  it|"  said 
h&  ''  I  have  got  much  of  their  trouble  and  little  of 
their  benefit  myself"  "Catch  courage,"  said  she. 
''Thou,  wilt  get  something  of  their  benefit  yet  Thou 
must  not  be  without  meat  here,"  said  she.  "  There  is 
no  contrivance  for  getting  meat,"  said  he.  "  We  will 
not  be  long  getting  meat^"  said  the  falcon.  She  went^ 
and  she  was  not  long  when  she  came  with  three  ducks 
and  eight  blackcocks  in  her  mouth.  They  set  their 
>  meat  in  order,  and  they  took  it  "  Thou  must  not  be 
without  sloop,"  said  the  falcon.  "  How  shall  I  sleep 
without  a  warranty  over  mo,  to  keep  me  from  any  one 
evil  that  is  here."  "Sleep  thou,  king^  and  I  will 
warrant  thee."  He  let  himself  down,  stretched  out^ 
and  he  slept 

In  the  mornings  the  falcon  set  him  on  foot  "  Hard- 
ship or  difficulty  that  comes  on  thee,  mind,  at  any 
time^  that  thou  wilt  get  my  help."  He  went  swiftly, 
sturdily.  The  night  was  coming,  and  the  little  birds  of 
the  forest  of  Branching  bushy  trees,  were  taking  about 
the  briar  roots  and  the  twig  tops ;  and  if  they  were,  it 
was  stillness,  not  peace  for  him,  till  he  came  to  the  side  of 


THE  TOUHO  kino  OF  BABAIDH  BUADH.  9 

a  great  rirer  that  was  there,  and  at  the  bank  of  the  riyer 
there  was  the  forming  of  the  site  of  a  fire.  The  king 
Uew  a  heavy,  little  spark  of  fire.  He  was  not  long 
here  when  there  came  as  company  for  him  the  brown 
otter  of  the  river.  **  Och  I  o(À  1  **  said  the  otter,  y 
**  Bad  was  the  plight  of  thy  wife  and  thy  two  horses 
last  night  with  the  giant**  ''There  is  no  help  for  it 
I  got  much  of  their  trouble  and  little  of  their  benefit** 
**  Catch  courage,  before  mid-day  to-morrow  thou  wilt 
see  thy  wife.  Oh  I  king,  thou  must  not  be  without 
meat^**  said  the  otter.  ''Uow  is  meat  to  be  got 
heret**  said  the  king.  The  otter  went  through  the 
liver,  and  she  came  and  three  salmon  with  her,  that 
were  splendid  They  made  meat»  and  they  took  it 
Said  the  otter  to  the  king^  **  Thou  must  sleep.**  ^\  How 
can  I  sleep  without  any  warranty  over  me  t  **  ''  Sleep 
thou,  and  I  will  warrant  thee."  The  king  slept  In 
the  morning,  the  otter  said  to  him,  "  Thou  wilt  be  this 
night  in  presence  of  thy  wife.**  He  left  blessing  with 
the  otter.  '*  Now,**  said  the  otter,  **  if  difficulty  be  on 
thee,  ask  my  aid,  and  thou  shalt  get  it**  The  king 
went  till  he  reached  a  rock,  and  he  looked  down  into  a 
chasm  that  was  in  the  rock,  and  at  the  bottom  he  saw 
his  wife  and  his  two  horses,  and  he  did  not  know  how 
he  should  get  where  they  were.  He  went  round  till  he 
came  to  the  foot  of  the  rock,  and  there  was  a  fine  road 
for  going  in.  He  went  in,  and  if  he  went  it  was  then 
she  began  crying.  ''  Ud  1  ud  1**  said  he,  ''  this  is  bad  1 
If  thou  art  crying  now  when  I  myself  have  got  so  much 
trouble  coming  about  thee.**  ''  Oo  1  **  said  the  horses, 
**  set  him  in  front  of  us,  and  there  is  no  fear  for 
him,  till  we  leave  this.**  She  made  meat  for  him, 
and  she  set  him  to  rights,  and  when  they  were  a  while 
together,  she  put  him  in  front  of  the  horses.  When 
the  giant  came^  he  said,  ^  The  smell  of  the  stranger  is 


lO  mm  HIQHLAND  TALBL 

within.**  Says  she^  **  My  treamue  1  My  joy  and  my 
cattle  1  there  is  nothing  bat  the  smell  at  the  litter  of 
the  horses.**  At  the  end  of  a  while  he  went  to  gcvB 
meat  to  the  horses,  and  the  horses  began  at  him,  and 
they  all  bat  killed  him,  and  he  hardly  crawled  from 
them.  ''  Dear  thing,**  said  she^  '*  they  are  like  to  kill 
thee."  ''  If  I  myself  had  my  soul  to  keep,  it's  long 
since  they  had  killed  me,**  said  he.  '^  Where^  dear,  is 
thy  soal  f  by  the  books  I  will  take-  care  of  it**  ''  It 
is,**  said  he,  *'  in  the  Bonnach  stona**  When  he  went 
/  on  the  morrow,  she  set  the  Bonnach  stone  in  order 
exceedingly.  In  the  time  of  dask  and  lateness,  the 
giant  came  homa  She  set  her  man  in  front  of  the 
horses.  The  giant  went  to  give  the  horses  meat  and 
they  mangled  him  more  and  more.  ''  What  made  thee 
set  the  Bonnach  stone  in  order  like  that  f  *'  said  ha 
''  Because  thy  soul  is  in  it*'  ''  I  perceive  that  if  thoa 
didst  know  where  my  soul  is,  thou  wouldst  give  it  much 
respect."  "I  would  give  (that),"  said  sha  "It  is 
not  there,*'  said  he,  "  my  soul  is ;  it  is  in  the  threshold." 
She  set  in  order  the  threshold  finely  on  the  morrow. 
When  the  giant  returned,  he  went  to  give  me^t  to  the 
horses,  and  the  horses  mangled  liim  more  and  mora 
**  What  brought  thee  to  sot  the  threshold  in  order  like 
that  f "  "  Because  thy  soul  is  in  it"  "  I  perceive  if 
thou  knewest  where  my  soul  is,  that  thou  wouldst  take 
care  of  it"  "  I  would  take  that,"  said  sha  <<  It  is 
not  there  that  my  soul  is,"  said  he.  "  There  is  a  great 
flagstone  under  the  threshold.  There  is  a  wether  under 
the  flag.  There  is  a  duck  in  the  wether^s  belly, 
and  an  egg  in  the  belly  of  the  duck,  and  it  is  in  the  egg 
that  my  soul  is."  When  the  giant  went  away  on  the 
morrow's  day,  they  raised  the  flagstone  and  out  went 
the  wether.  "K  I  had  the  slim  dog  of  the  green- 
wood, he  would  not  be  long  bringing  the  wether  to 


( 


THl  TOUHO  KIVO  OF  SASAIDH  BUADH.  1 1 

me.**  The  slim  dog  of  the  greenwood  came  with  the 
wether  in  his  mouth.  When  they  opened  the  wether, 
oat  was  the  duck  on  the  wing  with  the  other  ducka 
'^  If  I  had  the  Hoary  Hawk  of  the  grey  rock,  she  would 
not  be  long  bringing  the  duck  to  me.**  The  Hoaiy 
Hawk  of  the  grey  rock  came  with  the  duck  in  hrà' 
month ;  when  they  split  the  duck  to  take  the  egg  from 
her  belly,  out  went  ^e  egg  into  the  depth  of  the  ocean. 
**  If  I  had  the  brown  otter  of  the  rirer,  he  would  not 
be  long  bringing  the  egg  to  ma"  The  brown  otter 
came  and  the  egg  in  her  mouth,  and  the  queen  caught  ^ 
the  egg,  and  she  crushed  it  between  her  two  hands.  ** 
The  giant  was  coming  in  the  lateness,  and  when  she 
crushed  the  egg,  ho  fell  down  dead^  and  he  has  never 
yet  moved  out  of  that  They  took  with  them  a  great 
deal  of  his  gold  and  silver.  They  passed  a  cheery 
night  with  the  brown  otter  of  the  river,  a  night  with  ' 
the  hoary  ficdcon  of  the  grey  rock,  and  a  night  with  the 
slim  dog  of  the  greenwood  They  came  home  and 
they  set  in  order  "  a  cuirm  ouraidh  criohsil,'*  a  hearty 
hero's  feast,  and  they  were  lucky  and  well  pleased  after 
thai     - 


Received  June  9,  1859. 

An  old  man,  of  the  name  of  Angus  MacQneen,  who  lired  at 
Ballochroj,  near  Portaskaig,  in  Iilaj,  "  who  could  recite  Onian'i 
Poemi,"  taagfat  this  more  than  forty  Tears  ago  (say  1820)  to 
James  Wilson,  blind  fiddler  in  Islaj,  who  rscitod  it  to  Hector 
HacLean,  schoolmaster,  Islay. 

The  Gaelic  is  dictated  and  written  by  Islay  men. 


12  WB8T  HIGHLAND  TALBL 


RIQH  OG  EASAIDH  RUAQH. 

Bha  rt^  6g  Baatidh  Roagh  an  dèigh  dluiVi  oigfafMclid  f  haotafam  da 
ftiii  ri  mbnn  ibhachd,  ag  ambaic  a  mach  dè  a  cboffdadh  iit»  *f 
dè  thigeadh  r  'a  nadar.   fiha  gmagaoh  fiigiit  d'a  chombnaidh  ris  an 
abcadh  lad  a  ghniagach  chtriaiach  dbonn.    Smaolnticheriifèbigiiii 
raehadh  e  a  dh'  lomairt  olviebo  ria.  Dh*  f  halbh  e  thim  an  t  if  nagh 
all.  'a  thabhaiit  e  ria,  "  tha  mi  air  a  dhaanadh  aoaa  gun  d*thtfid 
ml  dh*  iomairt  olnioiie  ria  a'  ghmagaoh  charaalach  dhoon.**     **  Aba»" 
ana  *n  laanagbeal,  *'an  doina  mar  ao  tbu?  am  bhall  tba  cbo  naibh- 
raach  'a  gu  bhall  tha  a*  dol  a  dh'  lomairt  olnlcha  ria  a  a*  gbmagach 
diainaiach  dbonn  ?    B'a  mo  Ghombalrle  dbolt  do  nadar  atbarracliadh 
'agon  dol  ann.'*   **  Cha  daan  ml  ain."   **  B'a  mo  chomhairla  dholt  ma 
bhUldhnaaa  tha  air  a'  gbmagach  ebaiaalach  dboDn»  an  nighean  mhaol 
charrach  a  tha  cbl  an  doniia  f  baotainn  air  aon  brìgh  do  chluicha^  'a 
enbridh  a  ioma  car  dhath  ma'tai  fàigh  tha  I.*'     Cbaidh  a  laidbe  \k 
oidbcha  ain,  'a  ma  'a  moch  a  tbainlg  an  latha  'a  molcha  na  ain  a  dh'  èirich 
an  lìg^  a  diamail  dulche  ria  a'ghrnagalcb. '  Ràinig  a  a  gbmagach. 
Bbaannaich  a  do*n  gbmagaich  ^  bhaannaich  a  gbmagach  da. 
Thairt  a  gliraagach  ria»  **  A  righ  òg  Easaidh  Haagh,  dè  thug  a' 
mlonnaoidh  an  diagb  tha?  an  iomair  tha  duicha  riam ?"    Tbòiaich 
lad  'a  dh'  iomair  lad  an  daicba.    Bhbidbinn  an  righ.    "  Tog  brìgh 
dochlaicbe  'a  ga'kn  fdgbinn  a  bbi  'g  imeacbd."    <*'Se  bi^gb  mo 
oblaicha  tha  tbolrt  domh  na  nighin  maoU  carraich  a  tb'  agad  air  cbl 
an  doraia.**    **  'S  iomad  boireannach  malaeacb  a  th'agamaa  atigh  a 
bhanmchd  urra."    "  Cha  ghabb  mi  gin  ach  i  aiod."     **  Beannaobd 
dhaltaa  'a  mollacbd  do  d'  oid-ionnaacbaiab."     Cbaidh  lad  gu  tigh 
na  graagaich  'a  chair  a'  gbruagach  an  òrdagb  Hchead  nighaan  òg. 
"Tog  a  nia  do  rogbainn  aada  ain."     Blia  ttf  tigbinn  a  mach  an 
dèlgb  ttf,  'a  a  b-uUe  U  thigaadh  a  mach,  thairoadb  I,  <•  U  mia*  i,  'a 
amaidaach  tha  nach  'ail  'g  am  thobbairtaa  laat ;"   ach  dblarr  an 
aMnagbal  air  gan  gin  a  gbabball  ach  an  ttf  mu  dhairaadh  a  tbigeadh 
a  mach.     'N  uair  a  tbainlg  an  ttf  mu  dhairaadh  a  mach  thuirt 
a  **  ao  mo  thè-aa."    Db'  f  holbh  a  leatha  'a  'nuair  a  bha  lad  atitoinn 
o*n  tigh  db'atbarraicb  a  crath,  agua  'a  1  boiraannacb  a  bUlle  'bha 
air  tbalamb.     Bba*n  i^h  'dol  dacbaidh  Urn  toil-inntinn  leithid  do 
bhoiraannach  malaaacb  f  baotainn.   Rbinig  a*n  tigh.  Chaldb  e  laidba. 
Ma  'a  moch  a  thainig  an  latha,  ia  moicha  na  ain  a  db'èiricb  an  rìgh, 
'dbol  a  dblomairt  daicba  ria  a  gbruagaich.    **  la  èigin  domb  dol  a 
dhlomairt  claidia  ria  a  gbmagaich  an  diugli,'*  ara*  e  r'a  bhean.   **  0,' 
ara'  iae,  **  ain  m'atbair  'a  ma  tbèid  tha  dh'iomairt  daicba  ria,  na  gabb 
ni  aam  bith  airaon  brìgb  do  chlaioba  ach  an  loth  pbeallagach  odbar 


n 


RIOH  OO  EAflAIDH  BUAOH.  1} 

ft  tfaa  "n  dfollaid  mhaid'  um.     Dh'  f  holbh  an  i)gh,  '•  ehofamidi  ft 
gfamagaeli  e^  '■  gn  dontetch  eha  robh  'm  bemnmiehadh  nm  Ira  taira 
Bft  thft  e  roimhe  mig  an  dithis  ri  ch^to.    "  Seadh,"  an*  a  gfamagaoh 
*  dcnrar  a  thbrd  do  bhean  bg  rfait  an  d4T*    "  Chord  gn  h-iomlan.** 
"Ibi  d*  thUnig  tha  dhlomairt  daiche  riam  an  dinghr   "ThUnig.** 
TbMiidi  iad  air  a'  dilaidie,  *b  bhnidhinn  an  righ  air  a'  ghmagaidi  an 
lathado.    ••  Tog brtgb  do diluicha *•  bi ealamh  Ma."   ««'8ebi)ghnio 
dilaicha  gum  ftiigh  mi  an  loth  pheallagadi  odhar  air  a'  bliaO  an 
dMIaid  mhaide."     Dh'  f  holbh  iad,  ebmhla.    Rhinig  iad  an  loth 
phaallagadi  odliar,  thug  a  mach  aa  an  tUbidl  Ì,  *b  dndr  an  i)gh  ft 
ahaa  thairte,  *■  b'e  *n  coraldh  L    Ohaidh  a  dhachaidh ;  bha  Ikmhan 
^gftollt!  aig  a*  bhean  roimhes  ^n  bha  iad  gn  ihnndaeh  oomhla 
an  oidlidia  tin.    "  D*fliearr  loam  fUn,**  waa 'bhean,  *nadi  radiadh 
tha  'dhlomairt  dnldie  ria  a'  giunagadi  talllidli,  chlonn  ma  bhnldli- 
naaa  e  coiridh  e  dragh  ann  ad  eheann.**     **  Cha  dean  mi  dn ; 
thMd  mi  dhlomairt  doidie  ria  an  dhigh."     Chaidh  e  dhlomairt 
dnidie  ria  a*  ghmagaidL   'N  nair  a  rhfaiig  e,  thar  leisgnn  doghahh  a 
ghraagadibodi.    ««And*thUnigthar    ««Thhinig.'*    Dh'iomairiad 
aa  diddle,  '•  mar  bhnaidh  mhollaehd  do'n  i^h  bhnidliinn  a*  ghmagaeh 
aalatliadn.  *'Togbrìghdodiliiidie,'*  araai)ghògEa8nuig]i,'"ina 
bi  trom  orm,  diionn  dia-n  urralnn  mi  teaiamh  ria.**    **  8*  e  bi^gfamo 
ehloidie-ea,*  art'  eaan,  "  gn  bhdl  mi  'cor  mar  diroisean,  'na  mar 
glieauui  ort,  'ua  mar  iUUtam  na  bliadhna,  am  beathadi  mad  carradi 
ii  mithrenbhaidie  '•  is  mi-threbnaidie  na  tho  fèln,  a  tlioirt  do  diinn  'a 
do  mhoincil  '•  do  choimhead-beatha  dhiot,  mar  am  faigh  thn  dhomhaa 
daidlieamh  eolaii  i^h  nan  ninneagan  daraidi.**    Cliaidh  an  rtgh 
daefaaidh  gn  trom,  bodid,  ddbhthÌamhatadL   Thhinig  a  bhanrigUan 
bg  na  chomhdhail  '•  thnbhairt  i  ria,  **  Mo  thniaighe  1  ehm  "n  cil  nl  'tarn 
bith  leat  a  nochd.*    Thug  a  h-addh  ague  a  h-aiUeadid  mdeigin  do 
tfaoilinntinn  do*n  i^h  nor  a  dh'  amhdre  e  air  agnhis;  adi  nor  a 
ahnidh  e  air  cathdr  a  thamiinn  e  d*  a  ionnanidh  thag  e  oaann  ais  ia 
wgolùi  a  chathdr  fodha.    "  Dè  th*  ort,  na  bhiodh  ort,  naeh  f  haodadli 
thn  innaeadh  dltomhuar    an^  a  blianrigh.     Dh'  innis   an  r%h 
daorar  a  thachair.    "  Ud,**  arnT  ia^  **  de  amhaii  a  dinireaa  thu  air,  'a 
gar  ann  agad  a  tha  "bliean  it  f  hehrr  'an  Birinn,  *b  an  darra  eadi  ia 
f  liekrr  *an  Ririnn.   if  a  ghabhaa  thn  mo  diomlidrle-aa  thig  tha  aa  gadi 
ni  dhiabh  dn  f  hathaad."    if  a  '•  modi  a  thhinig  an  latha  'a  mddie  na 
afai  a  dh'  Mrich  a  bhhnrighino,  *b  a  dialr  i  ddhfam  air  gadi  nl  eham 
gam  bitheadh  an  rtgh  'dol  air  a  thnraa.    Chair  i  "n  brdngh  an  loth 
phaallagadi,  odiiar, air  an  robh'n  dk>llaid  mhaida ;  *•  ged  adiltheadh 
eian  *n  a  maid*  i,  bha  i  Ian  dhedradi  le  or  ia  drgeid.    Chaidh  e  air  ft 
■lain.    Phòga'bhanrighe,'aghaidhibaftidhlhrachlda.    Chardg 


14  Wnr  mGHULHD  TAUHL 


■dM  icM  ft  bU 'f  iBMOidli  ■!  aui  bich  dkidl»  galih  Unm 
do  hhwiartMWBiwiirli  tUm,  ma  loth,  *k  ÌBMÌdk  i  diril  44  1i  oòir 
dhoitftdliiftnomli.  6boblioBUMhairfttlwnM;'ockftlracbiftBalftcbft 
bhi  air  mida  no  itoad  odlMr.  Bhiiraodliioiro'gbaotklntliiaibiit 
ftbUtlModli  i«iai|Mb*k  dio  tiMlraodli  ^  gliootii  huth  Mbàiit  vra. 
Thbiaif  iodom  beol  OB  othoUh  ^  OB  oaoBokh  go  ddit  ogatcotkob 
ilgbBoaniBDcogoadonich.  JJnf  ob  loth  plwiligochodlMr  rii^  *  Tho 
oina  oig  eeoan  or  tarai%  Vdio-a'  oil  againa  ri  dol  aa  li  f  hoido,  gohb 
thoto  BIO  chonhoirio-oo  1i  bhoir  Bii  tho  Ikr  am  bbefl  doidhouah  oolaio 
ilgfa  aan  njaaoogon  doriich,  %  bio  thig  o  loatgna  igraod  gaa  agriod^ 
lioooihaiTidhBioUhoir  or  tarns  o.  Tho'ni)ghBÌtaigadhinneir,'0 
tha  *n  diidheaaih  ioIbU  *n  a  iheòoabar  IMn ;  thacnopoiracho«an,1i 
nnr  a  bhcfanot  tha  oir  a  chlaidhfomh  taimfam  gn  rGdh  mach  a 
"CAOs"  nah-ainndge.'*  Thklnig  o  got  an  nhineig  Ikr  on  robh  an 
HiMhwinih  Rag  •  air  a  diioidboimh  '•  Uthinig  o  leia  gn  rfidh  goo 
on  robh  o  oig  o  bhbrr,  '•  thug  o  motm  igreod  os  on  itai.  **  Bithidh 
oina  a  aii^  ana  'a  lotli,  aig  imeMfad.  dio-n  hm  atod  dninn  o^  tlio  lloi 
ogam  gan  do  mliothaich  an  rtgh  oKibb  a  Udrt  a  cJilaidhninih  a  madi. 
Qhlèidh  OMn  an  doidhcomh  'n  o  loimh  *•  dh*  f  holbh  iod,  *k  *n  uoir  a 
bha  iad  troit  air  an  oghaidh,  thnirt  oa  loth,  "Stadaidh  rinn  a  ait  '• 
amhairddh  thn  co  'chi  tha  'd  dhoigfa.**  "  Chi  mi,  or^  oioa,  «gaoth 
dh*  oodioibh  donno  'tigfaion  oir  bhkioidh.**  ""S  laoithe  linn  lifin 
no  iod  tin  fothoad."  Dh'  f  holbh  iod  '•  Vi  noir  o  bho  iod  oitor 
moith  oir  on  oglioidh,  "  omhoirc  o  nit  on*  iie  oo  'chi  thn  toochd." 
**  Chi  mi  igaoth  dh'  eocho  dabho,  agni  oon  each  blàr  dnbh,  'too 
tigbinn  oir  o  chnthoch,  't  dnin'  air  a  mboin."  "S  •  tin  an  t-each 
io  f  hohrr  on  Eirinn,  '•  o  mo  bhràthoir  o  th'  onn,  't  f  booir  •  rhidho 
bonoltroebd  o  bhorrodid  ormto,  ogot  thig  o  teocbod  ormto  la 
ortonn,  't  fench  om  bi  thn  cho  Upoidh  't  'nar  o  thig  o  teochod 
ormto  on  d'  thoir  thn  'n  ceonn  de  'n  f  heor  o  th'  oir  o  mhnin ; 
ehionn  on  km  dol  teochod  omhoircidh  e  orttt,  't  cho-n  'oil  doidh- 
oomh  'n  o  chhlrt  o  bheir  on  ceonn  deth,  och  o  'cheort  chUidheomh 
o  Uio'd  loimli."  'N  noir  o  bho  'm  feor  to  'dol  teochod  thug  e  omh- 
odh  ofar  o  cheonn  o  dh'-  omborc  oir ;  thorminn  eton  on  doidhotmh 
'ut  thoge'noeann  dethf't  cheap  on  loth  pheollogoch*nobeale.  B'e 
io  rtgfa  non  ninneogon  doroich.  "  Leum  oir  main  on  eich  dhuibb," 
art'  ite^  *"t  n^jf  o  dilotoch  on  tiod,  't  bl  'dol  dochoidh  cho  luoth  't  o 
bbeir  e  dochoidh  tho,  't  bitliidh  mite  .'tigbinn  mar  it  fhekrr  o  dh* 
f  boodot  mi  'n  'ur  dtfigh."  Leum  e  oir  main  on  eich  dhnlbli,  't  om 
Moirt  b'  e  'n  eartidb  e,  't  rbinig  iod  an  tigh  fada  roimh  lotbo.  Bho 
'bhon-rìgh  gan  Uidhe  gut  on  d'  rbinig  e.  Thog  iod  oeòl  'a  leag  iod 
bròn.    An  U'r  no  mhbireoch  thuirt  eton,  -  't  tfigin  dòmhto  dol  o  dh'- 


RIOH  00  BA8AIDH  BUAOE.  1 5 

amhare  11«  gmagaicli  an  diagh,  feiieh  am  U  mo  gheaaan  ma  •gaoil.*' 
*  Cvimhiiieb  naeh  ann  mar  a  b-kbhaiat  a  dh*  amaiaeaa  a  ghniagaeh 
art.  CoUmichidh  e  iba  gu  faargach  fladhaich  %  thtir  e  riat,  'an 
dYhnair  thn  "n  claidhtamb  T  *a  abair  thnaa  gun  d'f  bnair.  Their  e  linC 
dod  a  mar  a  f  bnair  thu  e*  ?  'ni  their  thnaa,  'mar  b*e  an  cnap  a  bh'air  a 
eheann  cha  d'fboair  mi  e.'  Foighnichidh  e  rithiad  dioC,  'demnr  a 
fhnair  thu  *n  claidlieiimb/  'a  their  thnaa,  'mar  b*e  an  cnap  a  bb' 
afar  a  eheann  cba  d*  fhnair  ml  e.*  Dbeh*  e  *n  io  togail  afar  a  db' 
amhare  dod  e  "n  cnap  a  th'  air  a  ehlaidheamh  *•  chl  thn  ball  dorain 
tnohh  deaa  a  mhnineil,  agna  atob  bhrr  a  chlaidheimh  anna  a  bliall 
dorain  'n  mar  amaia  thn  air  a  bhall  dorain,  tha  thnaa  'a  mice  rAdh. 
B^  e  *bhràthair  rìgh  nan  ninneagan  daraich  e^  *a  tha  f  bioa  aige  gna  an 
cnllleadh  am  fear  eile'bheatha  naeh  dealaieheadh  eria  a  ehlaidheamh. 
Tha  bha  an  dithia  'a  a  ehlaidheamh ;  ach  cha-n  'eil  elaidbeamh  eiie 
dhaargaa  orr*  ach  e.**  Pbbg  a  bhanrigh  e,  'a  ghnidh  i  bnaidh  Ihradi 
Ma,  'a  dh*  f  holbh  e.  Tbachair  a  ghmagach  air  anna  cbeart  hitf  an 
lobh  e  roimbid.  "And*  thnnir  thn  *n  daidheamh  ?  "  "  Fhnair  ml  *n 
daidheamh.**  "Demnr  afbuair  thn'ndiiidheamb?'*  "Murb'ean 
eaap  a  bh*  air  a  dieann  cha  n*  f  liaighinn  e.**  "  Leig  f  baicinn  domh  an 
daidheamh.**  *  Cha  robh  e  mar  f  hiachaibb  orm  a  Idgeil  f  haidnn 
dnit"  "  Demur  a  fhnair  thn  *n  daidheamh  ?**  "  Mnr  b*e  an  cnap  a 
bhT  air  a  eheann  dia  d*  fhndr  mi  e.**  Thng  a  ghmagach  togail  aira 
eheann  a  dh' am  bare  air  a  chlaidheamli.  Chonnaic  eaan  am  bdl 
dorain.  Dha  e  nrrant*  ealamh ;  abhth  e  *n  daidbenmb  anna  a  bhdl 
dorain,  'a  thnit  a  ghmagach  lioe  marbh.  Thill  e  dhaebaidb,  'a  *n  nair 
a  thill  e  dhachai<lh,  fhnair  e  ludid  f^leidbidh  agna  ooimhead  eeangallt* 
Ml  ain  chl  ri  cbl ;  *a  gnn  bhean,  no  eadi,  no  leannan  aige,  gnn  a  bhi  air 
Ml  tdrt  afar  folbh.  *N  nair  a  dh'  f  hnaagatt  e  iad,  thnbhain  lad  ria» 
"Thàlnig  Camhair  mòr,  agna  thng  e  air  folbh  do  bhean  agna  do  dhh 
aaeii.*'  "Chad'thtfidcadal  air  moahiiÌlnofoÌaairmochenm,gnaam 
Mgfa  mi  mo  bliean  agna  mo  dbh  each  afar  an  aia.  Le  ao  a  rhdh  dh' 
fholhb  e  aira  thnraa;  ghabh  e  "n  taobh  a  bha  lorg  nan  each, 'a  lean  e 
gn  dian  iad.  Bha  *n  t-athadh  'a  an  t-anamoch  a  tighinn  air,  'a  cha  d* 
rinaeadh  atad  leie  gna  an  d*  rkinig  e  taobh  na  colli*  oaine.  Chonnaic 
a  Ihr  an  robh  Ikrach  crathachadh  gealbbain,  'a  amaointich  e  gnn  cnir- 
cadh  e  tein*  air,  *a  gun  cuireadh  e  aeachad  an  oidhch*  ann.  Cha  b* 
Chad  'a  bha  e  "n  ao  atg  a  ghealbhan  gna  an  d'  thhintg  en  aeang  na 
eoiirnain'air.  Dbeannaichedo'nchh,'abheannaÌdianchdà.  "Ubh! 
hbh  1  **  ara'an  ch,  "  b'  oic  diol  do  mhnatha  *a  do  dbh  each  an  ao  anraoir 
aig  an  f  hamhair  mbòr.**  "'S  e  ain  a  chuir miae cho peanaaach tmagh 
afar  an  tòtr  a  nochd,  ach  cha-n'  'dl  arach*  air.**  "  A  rtgh,**  ar^  an 
eh,**  eha-n*  f  haod  thn  bhi  gnn  bhtodh."    Chaidh  an  ch  atigh  do  *n 


l6  Wnr  mOHLAHD  TALBL 


dwOK  drag  •  flMdi  bMUhal^Mii,  1i  rim  faid  MB  bÌMdli  f«  I 

''T^^adbfl•glm^«l^,"arfanrtg^^*g«mgMd^itak^d^ldh^fl^■i^K 

Mch  vraiim  mi  dol  ft  diòir  an  f  bamhair  till."    ••NadaBBii<'aB* 

aneà;  «dia-ii'cagaldaitarigh,ciiiii'ldlidoghiioCtodblaat.  Gfa^i 

Yhaod  dm  bhi  10  gnn  chadaL**   <«  Cha  laig  aa  t-«agal  domk  cadal  % 

gm  bhanntaa  om.**    <•  CaldU  thajr,"  ar^  an  cb»  •• '•  baiantachaidli 

mfarUm."    LfliganrighefèinnailibMadhtaobliaBtiina'aeliaidaa. 

HnraMiriMlaBfliyratlittbhaiitaBchrii.oEiridi,*'  aIÌcl^*•^M 

gm  fiOihadh  tim  grtim  IMh  a  naartafcheiB  tho,  '•  gvm  blthaadli  dm 

dolalrdodianis.    Nfa,"  an*  an  cii, «  ma  diig  cniadlicfaaa  no  cba  «i^ 

iarr  mo  chnSdcadiadli, *k btthidh  mi agad a diioUdh."    Dh'fhàgiad 

baanaadid  aig  a  chfila  *k  dh' fbolbh  a.    An  am  an  admldh  1i  an 

anmolfli,  dikinig  a  gn  li-ftObiiinn  mhòr  cralga,  agot  bha  cnuhaobadh 

Uuach  gtalbhain  ann.     Smaoindch  •  gun  eruinneacfaadh  a  connadh, 

'•  gnn  cainadh  a  air  taina.    Tliòisiclieair  agbaradh,*!  cfaa  Vfhada 

bha  a  mar  lo  *n  nair  a  dibinig  taobhag  liadi  na  crsiga  glala^  air. 

"Ubbl  bbhl"  ar^iM,  « b*  olo  dial  do  mbnadia  1i  do  dhb  aadi  an 

rair  aig  an  fbambalr   mbòr.**      "Cha-n'  *til  araoh'  air,**   an" 

aian,  **  f  huair  mi  Mn  mbran  <r  an  dragh  ia  baagan  d*  an  bbharbd. 

"Qiao  mlmaach,"  tnf  iat^  *gbeobh  dm  mdelgin  d'  an  bbbacbd 

fbadiaad.     Cba  n'  f  baod  dm  bhi  gnn  bhiadh  an  lo,**  ar^  iaa. 

'•Cba^*  'afl  aaòl  air  biadh  fhaotainn  ar^  eMn.**    "Cha-n  fhada 

bbidiaaa  linn  a  CMtainn  bkUi.**    Dh' f  holbh  i  *■  cba  b-f  hada  bha  i 

n'oairadiainigi^btribchan'tochdooUichdhnbha^DabeoL    Chnir 

iad  an  ordogfa  am  biadh  '■  gbabh  iad  a.    "  Ciia-n  f  baod  dm  blii  gnn 

drndal,  art'  an  Uaaobbag.**    **  Demor  a  chaidleaa  mi  gun  bharantaa 

'•am  bidi  orm  gu  mo  dliion  o  aon  olo  a  dia  "n  to?*'    "  Caidil  dioaa 

i\ghf  '•  harantacbaidh  mii^  dm."     Ldg  a  e  f^in  *n  a  ihinaadli,  'a 

diaidfl  a.      Anna  a  mbaidinn  chair  an  i-aeobliag  air  a  dioia  a. 

Gmadlicliaa  no  cba  a  diig  ort,  cnimhnieh  aig  km  sam  bidi  gnm  Cdgh 

tbn  mo  chaJdeachadhta.    Dh'  f  liolbh  e  gn  dian,  foghainteach  luadi, 

laidlr.    Bha  "n  ladia  folbh  '§  an  oidbcba  tighinn,  'a  eunlaidi  bheaga 

na  ooUla  craobhaich,  doaraiche,  doalaich,  a*  gabhail  ma  bhnn  nam 

praaa  *•  ma  bhbrr  nan  doa;  '•  mn  bha,  clia  bn  tbmh  'a  dia  ba  diloa 

dbaan  a^  gna  an  d'  dibinig  a  gn  taobh  aimbna  mhòr  a  bha  ain,  a^ua 

aiir  bruach  na  h-aimhna  bha  cmthadkadh  Ibrach  gealbhain.    8h^ 

an  i^gh  nracbdanach  trom  toina.    Cba  b^-f  hada  bha  a  *n  lo  *n  oair  a 

thbinig  ann  an  corapanaa  ria  doran  donn  na  h-aimhna.    **  Ocli«"  art' 

an  doran,  **  b'-olo  d\ol  do  mhnatha  'n  lo  an  rair  aig  an  f  lumihair.** 

**  Clia-n  'ail  arach*  air,  f  hoair  miaa  mbran  d'  an  dragh  it  beogan 

d'  an  bbliachd.**    **  Glao  mianaadi,  to  mheadhon  latiia  màireach  dù 

thu  do  bhaan.    A  rigli,  cba  'n  f  baod  dm  bhi  gun  bhiadh/'  art'  an 


BIOH  00  BASAIDH  RUAOH.  1 7 

donuL     "Dwmir  «  gheibheur  bkdh  tii  so,**  an*  an  rtgh.     Dh 
f  hotbh  an  doran  faadb  na  h^bhanD,  'a  thainig  a  'a  tri  bradain  laia 

•  blM  dataoh.  Rlim  lad  biadh  ia  ghabh  iad  a.  Thnirt  an  doran 
fit  an  i)gfa,  **reanialdh  tn  cadaL**  "Demnr  a  chaidleaa  mi  't  gnn 
bharantachadh  aam  bith  ormr  «  Caidil  thma 'a  barantaehaidb  mis* 
thn  an  noehd."  CbaidU  an  i)gh.  Anna  a  mhadnion,  tbnirt  an 
doimn  ria,  bithidh  thn  an  nochd  an  làthair  do  mhnatha.  Dh'  f  hbg 
a  baannachdaig  an  doran.  **Mii,**  an*  an  doran,  "ma  bbitheaa 
cka  ort,  iarr  mo  chnidaachadh-ta,  'a  gheobh  thn  a.**  Dh  'f  holbh  an  i)gh 
gva  an  d*  ràinig  •  creag,  'a  dh'  amhairo  a  sloa  ann  an  glomhaa  a  bha 
*aadirrig,'taigaghninndchunnaic  e  abbean  agnaadhàaach,  *acfaa 
robh  iloa  aiga  damnr  a  gboobbeadh  e  far  an  robh  iad.  Ghabh  e  ma 
*B  enairt  goa  an  d*  thhinig  a  gu  ban  na  craiga,  'a  bha  rathad  datach 
a  dhol  a  itigfa.  Cbaidh  a  aUgh,  *a  ma  chaidh,  *a  ann  a  thbidch  is*  air 
aaoinaadh.  "Udl  adT  ars*  eaan,  «*s  olc  ao,  mi  ffin  adh*  fhaotainn 
na  Iwaibhir  da  dliragh  a  tighinn  ma  d*  thuaiream,  ma  'a  ann  a  caoin- 
aadh  a  tha  tha  nia."  **  XJ,**  ana  na  h-^di,  *cair  thaa'  air*  or  beaU 
thaobh-na  a,  *a  clia-n  eagal  da  gas  am  fhg  sinne  so.**  Rinn  i  biadh  dh, 
'a  diair  i  air  dòigh  a,  *a  *n  oair  a  blia  iad  trcis  oomlUa  chair  i  air 
baolthaobh  nan  eadi  a.    *N  aair  a  thainig  am  liunliair  thabliairt  a> 

*  THA  BOLADH  All  FHARBHAUiiOR  A  8TIOH.  An*  iae, "  H *  aHaidli,  ia 
a*aighaar,  is  m*  f  liaadaU,  dia-n'  dl  ann  adi  boladh  abhalaidh  bhreoma 
da  na  li-aadiaibh.**  An  ceann  trcis  chaidh  a  thoirt  bidh  do  na  h..aidi, 
*9  thbiaidi  na  h-«idi  air,  *a  dia  mhòr  nadi  do  mharbh  iad  a,  *a  dia 
d*  rinn  a  adi  snhgan  air  ^n  aatha.  ^  Qhrhidh,*'  an*  iae,  **  tha 
lad  a  brath  do  mharbhadh.**  ^  Na*m  b*  ann  agam  ftfin  a  bhithaadh 
B*  anam  g*a  ghlddhaadh  *s  f  had*  o*n  a  mharbh  iad  mi,"  an*  asan. 
*0*  ait*  aghrhidham  bhdl  d*anam  an  labbhra,  gabhaidh  misa  chram 
daCh.**  **Tha  a,**  an*  asan,  "ann  an  dadi  nam  bonnadi.**  Nnr 
a  dh*  f  liolbh  asan  an  la>  na  mbhircadi,  dinir  ise  an  brdngh  dadi 
■am  bonnadi  gn  foathasadL  An  am  an  atliaidh  *a  an  anmoidi 
thainig  am  famhair  a  stiglL  Chair  ise  a  fear  air  baalthaobh  nan 
aadi.  Cliaidh  am  famhair  a  thoirt  Udh  do  na  h-aidi,  *s  leadair  iad  a 
na  ba  mhotlia  *s  na  ba  mhotlia.  "  Ciod  a  *thag  ort  dach  nam  bon- 
nadi a  diar  an  brdagh  mar  lin?"  an*  esan.  "Chionn  gn  bheil  d* 
aaam  innte.**  **  Tlia  mi  *g  aiUmeadiadh  nam  bitliaadh  iloa  agad  c' 
aita  *bhdlm' anam,  gand'thagadh  tha  thiramhaithdhh.**  "Bhair- 
aadh.**  **  Cha-n  ann  an  sin  a  tha  m*anam  *s  ann  a  tlia  a  *sa  stars- 
aidL**  Chair  Ise  an  ordagh  an  staraadi  gn  gaad'  an  la  *r  na  mhhir- 
aaeh.  Nnr  a  thill  am  (amhalr  diaidh  e  thoirt  bidh  do  na  h-eidi,  *s 
laadsir  na  h-dch  e  na  ba  mhoiha  's  na  ba  mhotlia.  "  D^  'thag  ort 
anatarsachadiairanordogb  marsod?**   *  Chionn  ga  bhaO  d*  anam 


l8  Wnr  mOHLAHD  TAIJ& 

innte."  "Tha  mi  *g  ahhufdiadh  —  'm  MtlMadli  floi  agad Ut  am 
bbeO  m*  aaam  gun  gabhadh  th«  chram  (UMth.**  "Qhabhadh^**  anT 
isa.  ''Cha-ii'  ann  an  tiii  a  tha  m'  anani,  an'  aMn.  Tba  laao 
mh^r  fo  *n  itanaicli,  tba  moH  fo  "ki  toaefad,  tba  lacb  *aai  brohia  a 
mboilty  agu  tba  nbb  am  broinn  na  lacba,  agot  '•  ami  anna  an  nbh  a 
tba  m'  anam.  If  oair  a  dh'  f  bolbh  am  fkmbair  an  la*r  aa  asbbiiaadi 
tbog  iad  an  leac,  't  a  macb  a  tbng  am  molt.  Na  *m  bitbaadb 
agamsa  cb  aeang  na  oolir  naÌM^  cba  b'  f  bad  'a  bbUbaadb  a  *toÌit  a* 
mbnflt  a  m*  kmnsnidb.  Tbainig  cb  Maog  na  eoUl*  naina  ngat  am 
molt  *n  a  bbeuL  'N  nair  a  dbYboagaO  iad  am  molt,  a  macb  a  bba  *n 
lacb  air  itaagacb  lait  na  lacban  eile.  Main  Utbeadb  agamiaiaobbag 
IbUb  na  craiga  gUiaa,  cba  b*  fbada'  bbitbeadb  i  'toirt  na  lacb  a  m' 
ionntnidb.  Tbbintg  taobbagllatbaa  craiga  glalia 'tan  lacb  *n  a  banL 
'N  oair  avgoOt  iad  an  lacb  a  tboirt  na  uibba  a  *broinn,  macb  a  gliabh 
an  t-nbb  ann  an  doimbnaaclid  acbnain.  Na*m  bitbaadb  agamaa 
doran  donn  na  b-ambann,  cba  bYbada  bbitbaadb  i  *toÌrt  a  m'  ionn- 
luidb  na  nibba.  Tbàinig  an  doran  donn  *t  an  t-ubb  na  baol,  *•  mga 
bbanrigb  air  an  nbb  *•  pbronn  i  aadar  a  da  laimb  a.  Bba  *m  fkmbair 
a  tigliinn  anm  an  atbamanaclid,  *t  *n  nair  a  pbronn  iia  *n  t-ubb  tbult  a 
ùfm  marblu  *•  cba  do  cliaraicb  a  as  a  sin  f  liatliasd.  Tbng  iad  mòian 
lao  da  db'  or 's  da  db'  airgeid.  Cboir  iad  oidlicbs  sbnnndacb  ssachsd 
aig  doran  donn  na  b-abbann,  oidbcb*  aig  taobbag  Uatb  na  creiga 
glaise,  agns  oidbcb*  aig  cb  leang  na  coiU'  naine.  Tbbinig  iad  dacb- 
aidb  's  cbuir  iad  an  òrdugb  cuirm  cbridbail,  's  bba  iad  gn  sonsi 
toilicbta  *n  a  dbtfigb  sin. 

2.  I  baTa  anotbar  Taraion  of  tMs  tala,  written  hj  Hector 
Urqubart,  told  by  Jobn  Campbell,  limg  at  Stratb  Gairlocb, 
Hoss-sbire,  received  June  27,  1859.  It  is  very  well  told.  It 
▼aries  a  little  from  tbe  Islay  Torsion,  but  tbe  resemblance  ia  ao 
close,  that  to  print  it  entire  would  be  repetition.  It  contains 
many  characteristic  phrases  which  the  other  has  not  got,  so  I 
gi?o  this  abstract.    The  Gaelic  is  as  it  came  to  me. 

Tm  "  SoBULAOHD  "  OP  THB  WiDow's  SoH. — ^Tboro  was  onoe 
a  widow's  son,  and  he  was  often  stalking  (ssalq).  On  a  day  of 
days  and  he  stalking,  he  '*  sits  *'  at  the  back  of  a  knoll,  before 
tha  sun  and  behind  the  wind  (ai  aohaidh  obbwb  'a  ni  odl  ha 
OAorrua),  and  there  came  the  way  a  youth,  like  a  picture  (oqahaoh 
DaALBHAHAOH),  ridiug  a  bluc  filly  (PAi]:/>Ba  oohm),  and  he  sits 
beside  him.  They  played  at  cards,  and  the  widow's  son  won, 
and  when  aToning  came  the  youth  said,  "  What  is  the  stake  of 


THI  TOUKO  KINO  OP  BA8AIDH  RUAOH.  1 9 

thy  gaming?**  (ca  dhb  buidh  do  ohluiorb?)  and  he  laid,  **tlM 
blue  fiUy  under  thee.*'  He  took  her  home,  end  ehe  changed  mto 
the  fineet  women  thet  men  ever  mw.  Next  day  he  went  ftalk- 
ing,  and  on  coming  home  in  the  month  of  night  (am  bbul  xa 
oaxsnc),  he  learned  that  the  big  giant  had  taken  away  hie  iweet- 
beari— onA  hbil  oomas  air  ab  bmb  Acn  ha  bo  muisb  bo  tbbaba 
OKA  MHBALLADH  BBB  PAD  I.  **  Thero  is  BO  help  for  it/*  laid  he, 
**  bnt  were  I  the  etronger,  he  would  not  aUore  her  far.** 

Dr*  bbich  MAO  HA  BAVBTBicB.    The  widow*e  son  aroee,  *e 

OHAIDH  O  HA  CHKIOBIBH  lALLA  S*  HA  lALLA  GAISOICB,  and  he  WeOt 

ÌBto  hie  belta  of  thongs  and  his  thongs  of  warrior,  *s  DH*nuLaR 

■  LS  CBUMAHIBH  GU  TUULBAG  DOMH  MRBABMHAOH,  and  be  Went 

with  leaping  strides,  cheerful  to  me  (or  ?  Doimkainneaehd'-^t 
deepness)  s'  drbahadh  b  milb  tiiokah  ha  blbibh  lbis  ha  h  uillb 
OBUM  A  DHBAHADH  B,  and  he  would  make  a  thoosand  knolls  of 
the  bill  with  every  step  he  made,  a*  b*  phbab  dha  hamoaid  a 

ÌMBAORAHADH    HA  TACHAIRT    AH  LATHA   8IH  B18,  and  hls  foS  bad 

better  avoid  him  than  meet  that  day  with  him.  He  saw  a  little  hnt 
**  in  the  month  of  night,**  and  though  far  away,  not  long  to  reach 

it,    AlB  A  THUBBADH  lb  rrBAGAH  GARBHA  HAH  BUH  A  MUIOH  S  LB 

ITBAOAH  MiHB  HAH  BUH  A  8TBACH,  thatched  With  ooarsc  feathefs 
of  the  birds  without,  and  with  fine  feathers  of  the  birds  within, 

▲ODB  BUITHAG  ah  T  UBHAL  BUOH  DABHA  CBAH  DHOH  a  CHIH  BILS 

u  OHO  OOMRBAD  s*A  BHA  B,  Bod  the  apple  would  run  from  one 
•od  to  the  other  end,  io  even  it  was.  He  went  in  and  found  no 
man,  but  two  great  fires  on  the  fire-place  (oraoailt)  on  the  floor. 
RuiL  DA  duo  b,  glance  that  he  gave  he  saw  a  falcon  coming  in 
with  a  heath  hen  in  her  daws,  and  the  next  glance  it  was,  oillb 
BBIAOR  BUiDR,  a  braw  yellow  lad,  who  spoke  as  in  the  Islay 
Torsion,  entertained  him  and  told  him  in  the  morning  to  call  oa 
Bbabhao  soil  ohobm  orlbhha  PBiBT — the  blue-eyed  &lcon  of 
Olea  Feist.  Next  day  it  was  the  same,  and  he  came,  aib  oiabadh 
DOH  PRBisoAB,  at  the  turning-dan  of  the  evening,  to  a  second 
but,  thatched  like  the  other,  a*  bra  shathhbah  bbao  suabacr 
BioDA  OUMAIL  DiOH  A  UHBOMA  BIS,  and  there  was  a  little  sorry 
silken  thread,  keeping  the  thatch  of  its  back  on.  Dobrbah  dohh, 
otter  brown,  came  in  with  a  salmon,  and  became  a  man,  and 
■poke  as  the  other,  and  told  him  in  the  morning  to  call  on  dobr- 
bah  bohh  bboth  ah  t*  BUiUL — BrowB  otter  of  sail  stream.    The 


20  man  hiohiiAMd  talbl 

third  daj  wu  tlie  Mine,  the  hut  was  the  tame,  hot  that  there  were 
two  great  flroe  on  each  flre-pUeo,  and  there  oame  in,  madadu  mob, 
hig  dog,  with  ahare  hy  the  throat,  who  hecame  the  fineet  man,  aib 
AW  DUO  ■  loes  MiAMK,  he  eTer  tamed  &ce to;  who eaid  at  theothera 
did — **  It  wae  late  when  the  hig  giant  went  paat  with  thy  aweei- 
heart  on  hie  ihoolder."  At  parting,  he  told  him  to  call  on  madami 
OLAa  DBiOM  AH  T^BLMtBBE — gnj  dog  of  moantain  back  in  time 
of  need.  That  night  he  eaw,  Tigh  mos  gbal  av  ah  olbahh  fada 
FAiaioH,  a  big  white  honee  in  a  long  deeert  glen,  and  eaw  hia 
■weetheart  with  a  golden  oomb  in  her  hand,  and  she  wonld  take 
a  while  at  oombing  her  hair,  and  a  while  at  weeping,  and  when 
ahe  aaw  him  ehe  eaid— *'  My  pity,  what  bronght  thee  here?  the 
giant  will  kill  thee."  <*Two  eharee  of  fear  on  him,  and  the 
emalleet  share  on  me,"  said  the  widow's  son. 

8he  had  laid  it  as  crosses  and  as  spells  on  the  giant,  not  to 
oome  near  her  for  a  day  and  a  year,  and  they  were  together  in 
the  giant's  honse  till  OToning. 

Slie  hid  him,  and  had  a  long  talk  with  the  giant  when  he 
oame  home,  who  was  wheedled,  as  in  the  other  story,  into  telling 
first  that  his  life  (bhtha)  was  in  (oaeh  olas  ud  thall)  yonder  grey 
cairn.  The  lady  was  addressed  as  Niohihh  high  ohoigb  mugh — 
O  daaghter  of  king  of  cx>igb  mugh,  which  kingdom  is  not  within 
my  geographical  studies. 

The  giant  came  home,  and  fonnd  the  grey  cairn  dressed  out 
and  ornamented,  and  after  a  deal  of  persnasion,  gave  out  tliat  his 
life  was  in  sbahh  stoo  dahbiuh— an  old  oak  stump  on  the  bank 
of  yonder  rÌTer.  So  the  next  day  that  was  dressed  out,  and  when 
he  oame  home  he  said,  **  Do  thou  make  the  stock  braw,  bruoii, 
every  day.  On  the  third  day  they  split  the  oak  stump  with  an 
Axe,  and  a  hare  leaped  out.  **  There  now  is  the  giant's  life 
away,"  said  the  king's  daughter,  **  and  he  will  come  without 
delay  and  kill  thee,  and  not  spare  me."  Qrey  dog  of  mountain 
back  was  called,  and  brought  the  hare,  and  a  salmon  leaped  out 
into  the  river.  Brown  otter  of  sail  stream  brought  the  salmon, 
and  a  heath  hen  sprang  out.  Blue-eyed  falcon  of  Qlen  Feist 
brought  the  bird,  and  the  giant  came  roaring — '*  King's  daughter, 
let  me  have  my  life  and  thou  shalt  have  the  little  chest  of  gold 
and  the  little  chest  of  silver  that  is  in  yonder  grey  cairn."  The 
widow's  son  answered,  "  I  will  have  that,  and  I  will  have  this ; " 


THB  TOUNO  KINO  OP  BA8A1DH  RUADH.  2 1 

and  he  aeised  the  axe,  and  the  stock  fell,  and  the  giant  wai  dead. 
And  the  widow'a  son  and  the  daughter  of  King  Goige  Mngh,  in 
Erin,  staid  in  the  honse  and  the  land  of  the  giant,  and  their  race 
were  there  when  I  was  there  last. 

The  warrior*s  dress  of  thongs  is  remarkahle,  and  something 
like  it  is  described  in  another  tale.  There  is  a  carioas  piotnre 
at  TajmoQth  of  a  man,  supposed  to  be  the  Regent  Murray,  in  a 
ffighland  dress,  which  may  be  the  dress  described.  The  upper 
part  is  composed  of  strips  of  some  ornamented  material,  which 
might  be  stamped  gilded  leather ;  the  rest  of  the  dress  is  a  linen 
shirt,  with  ruffles,  and  a  plaid  wrapped  about  the  body  in  the 
form  of  a  modem  kilt,  and  belted  pUid ;  he  wears  stockings  and 
shoes  of  a  peculiar  pattern :  the  head-dress  is  a  bonnet  with  an 
oatrich  plume ;  the  arms,  a  dirk  and  a  long  ornamented  gun. 

There  is  another  picture  at  Dytchley,  in  Oxfordshire,  which 
represents  an  ancestor  of  Lord  Dillon  in  an  Irish  costume.  The 
diees  consists  solely  of  a  Tery  short  garment  like  a  shirt,  coloured, 
and  Tery  much  ornamented  with  tags,  which  might  be  leather. 
The  gentleman  is  armed  with  a  spear,  and  the  dress  is  probably 
•  masquerade  representation  of  a  real  Irish  dress  of  some  period. 

I  would  here  remark  that  the  personages  and  places  in  all 
these  tales  are  like  the  actors  in  a  play  and  the  scenes.  The 
incidents  Tary  but  little,  hut  the  kings  and  their  countries  vary 
with  erery  version,  though  there  is  a  preference  for  Brin,  Ireland ; 
Lochhun,  Scandinaria,  or  rather  Denmark  and  Norway;  and 
Greuge,  the  Qreekdom,  Greece. 

8.  I  have  a  third  version  of  this  written  by  MaoLean,  told 
by  John  MacPhie,  in  South  Uist.  The  old  man  was  very  proud 
of  it,  and  said  it  was  "the  rarovt"  story  that  the  transcriber 
had  ever  heard.    He  told  me  the  same. 

As  often  happens  with  aged  reciters,  when  he  repeated  it  a 
second  time  slowly  for  transcribing,  nearly  aU  the  curious,  **  im- 
passioned, and  sentimental**  language  was  left  out.  This  is 
MacLean's  account,  and  it  entirely  agrees  with  my  own  expe- 
rience of  this  man,  who  is  next  thing  to  a  professional  reciter  (see 
introduction).  This  version  is  the  most  curious  of  the  three.  I 
hops  some  day  to  get  it  better  oopted,  so  I  do  not  abstraet  it  now 


J 


22  wnr  mOHLAND  TALB. 

It  if  DOftrer  the  RoM-ahire  Tenion  tlian  tht  ItUj  story,  and  oanÌM 
tlie  aoeot  to  Oreece  from  Ireland.  Tho  reciter  ia  79,  and  saji 
be  learned  it  in  hie  youth  from  an  old  man  of  the  name  of  John 
HaoDonald,  Aird  a  llhachair. 

The  principle  on  which  gaming  ie  carried  on  in  thii  and  in 
other  tales  is  pecnliar.  The  stake  is  rather  a  ransom,  for  it  is 
always  settled  after  the  game  is  decided. 

The  game  played  is  tailiabo.  which  Armstrong  translatas  aa» 
sport,  game,  mirth,  chess,  backgammon,  draagbts. 

Tliis  story  resembles  in  some  particulars — 

1.  The  Gaelic  tale  published  by  Dr.  MacLeod,  printed  page 

80,  Leobhar  Nan  Cnoc.     1834. 

2.  The  Sea  Maiden,  in  present  collection,  and  the  stories 

referred  to  in  the  notes. 

8.  The  Giant  who  liad  no  Heart  in  his  Body.    Norse  Tales. 

1859. 

4.  Tlie  8e?en  Foab,  where  a  horse  adfises  his  rider.    Norse 

Tales. 

5.  Dapplegrim,  where  the  same  oocors,  where  there  are  two 

horses,  and  where  the  rider  hides  about  the  horses.  Norse 
Tales. 

6.  Fortunio,  where  the  horse  also  adnses  his  rider. 

7.  This  also  resembles  a  part  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights,*'  where 

the  Calender  is  changed  into  a  monkey,  and  the  princess 
fights  a  genius  in  various  shapes. 

8.  "  The  Ball  of  CrysUl,"  Grimm,  where  the  power  of  an 

enchanter  is  in  a  eryital  ball,  in  an  egg,  in  ajiery  hird^  in 
a  wild  ax. 

9.  The  Three  Sisters,  page  52,  whore  a  little  key  is  found 

in  an  egg,  in  a  dttck,  in  a  bull.  This  book  is  an 
English  translalion  (1845)  of  Volks  Miirchen,  by  Musaens, 
1782.  Said  to  have  been  publisbod  in  English  in 
1790. 
10.  Another  version  of  the  Sea  Maiden  recited  to  me  in  South 
Uist.  The  soul  of  the  Sea  Maiden  was  in  an  egg,  in  a 
goose^  in  a  ram,  in  a  wild  buU,  and  was  got  by  the  help 
of  an  oUer,  a  falcon,  a  wolf,  and  a  Hon. 


TBI  TOUNO  KINO  OP  KAHATDH  BUADH.  23 

Lempriert  ^gj/piui — Km^  or  KncmpkU  A  Qod,  repra- 
•ented  at  a  ram.  He  was  tbe  soul  of  the  world  ;  bit  Bjrmbol  a 
drole,  in  the  centre  of  which  it  a  terpent  with  the  head  of  a  hawk, 
or  a  globe  with  a  terpent  tamed  roand  it.  Together  with  mind, 
the  prìmitÌTe  matter  wat  given,  both  prodnoed  from  the  tame  great 
principle,  eziating  in  it  from  all  eternity,  imperiihable.  The 
primitiTe  matter  wat  mde  and  thapeleta  when  the  tpirit  imparted 
to  it  the  power  of  motion,  and  ga?e  it  the  form  of  a  q>here.  Thia 
beoame  the  tphere  or  egg  of  the  world  which  Kntifk  let  faU  from 
hi§  wumik  when  be  withed  to  form  aU  thingt. 

It  it  warmlj  contended  bj  Irith  writert  that  the  religion  of 
the  Geltt,  and  the  Geltt  themteWet,  oame  from  Phctnicia  and 
Owthage. 

If  thit  atorj  be  mythological,  here  it  aomething  like  it 

We  have  the  hawk,  ram,  and  a  bird;  and  in  the  InveraryTer- 
wUm  we  have  ^JUh  and  the  egg,  with  the  life  of  bird,  beatt,  fith, 
and  mtn  in  it. 

There  it  in  a  place  called  Lok  Marief^her,  in  Morbihan,  Brit- 
tany, a  long,  dark,  undergroand  pattage,  at  the  end  of  which  are 
certain  mdely  tculptared  ttonet.  On  one  of  thete  it  tometbing 
which  heart  tome  faint  retemblance  to  the  make,  who  appeart  in 
the  next  tale. 

There  b  one  word  in  thit  tale,  "  Sbavo,**  which  it  not  given 
in  dictionariet  at  a  tnbttantive.  8ing,  applied  to  an  Indian 
prinoe»  meant  lion,  and  the  beatt  here  detcribed  might  be  one. 
8eang,  at  an  adjective,  meant  thin,  tlim,  tlender,  gaont,  and  it 
the  root  of  Seangan,  an  ant. 

In  Pnchard*t  **  Celtic  Nationt,'*  by  Latham,  1866,  a  DaooU 
word  it  quoted — "  Sumgka,  which  originally  oomprebended  the 
idea  of  Dog,  Fox,  and  Wolf. 

The  word  Qiuaoach,  which  here  meant  tome  male  peraon- 
age,  generally  meant  a  maiden.  It  alto  meant  '*  A  female  npectre 
of  the  claat  of  Browniet  to  which  the  Highland  dairy-maidt  made 
frequent  libattont  of  milk — rardy  mm  chibp  op  a  placb.** — 
Arm^nmg  die.  Thit  word,  which  hat  not  itt  common  mean- 
ing, may  help  to  trace  the  language.  The  root  it  GauAo,  the 
bair  of  the  bead. 

A  Qruagach  uted  to  haunt  Skipnett  Cattle,  and  it  ttiU  re- 


«4 


man  HioHLàND  taub. 


mmùhtnà  thers  u  •  ■apernatiira]  femtle  who  did  odd  jobtalNNii 
the  homo  for  tho  moidt,  ond  lÌTod  in  the  nun. 

**  There  WM  abo  a  Omegeoh  in  Kerriadele,  in  Qaiilobh,in 
BowHihire,  ooee  npon  o  time." 

Thie  may  be  the  lame  word  aa  Qntagfk  or  Qra^K  •  nanio 
given  to  the  Druideaaea,  who  had  oollegea  in  an  ialand  near  tho 
ooaata  of  Brittany  (p.  166,  toL  i.,  Fojer  Breton).  The  atory 
gi?en  haa  many  incidenta  common  to  the  Gaelio  atoriea. 

The  aword  of  light  ia  oommon  in  Gaelio  atoriea ;  and,  atrippod 
of  anpematnral  qoalitiea,  the  whole  thing  aeema  Terj  like  an 
aoconnt  of  aome  race  oontending  with  another,  whoae  chief  wore 
long  hair,  who  had  horaea  and  bright  (f  ateel)  aworda,  to  which 
extraordinary  Tirtaes  were  attributed,  and  who  were  at  the  aame 
time  beaet  bj  iavagea  who  lÌTod  in  ca?ea,  and  were  aaaiated  by 
other  aavagea  repreaented  by  oreatorea. 


11. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BIRDS. 

Vtom  John  liickensie,  fiihennmn,  near  loTerarj. 

rriHERE  was  once  a  time  when  every  cieatme  and  bird 
-^  was  gathering  to  battle.  The  son  of  the  king  of 
Tethertown*  said,  that  he  would  go  to  see  the  battle,  and 
that  he  would  bring  sure  word  home  to  his  father  the 
king,  who  would  be  king  of  the  creatures  this  year. 
The  battle  was  over  before  he  arrived  all  but  one 
(fight),  between  a  great  black  raven  and  a  snake,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  the  snake  would  get  the  victory  over 
the  raven.  When  the  king^s  son  saw  this,  he  helped 
the  raven,  and  with  one  blow  takes  the  head  off  the  snake. 
When  the  raven  had  taken  breath,  and  saw  that  the 
snake  was  dead,  he  said,  **  For  Uiy  kindness  to  me 
this  day,  I  will  give  thee  a  sight  Come  up  now  on 
the  root  of  my  two  wings.**  The  king's  son  mounted 
upon  the  raven,  and,  before  he  stopped,  he  took  him 
over  seven  Bens,  and  seven  Glens,  tjià  seven  Mountain 
Moors. 

**  Now,**  said  the  raven,  *'  seest  thou  that  house 
yonder  t  Go  now  to  it  It  is  a  sister  of  mine  that 
makes  her  dwelling  in  it ;  and  I  will  go  bail  that  thou 
art  welcome.  And  if  she  asks  thee,  Wert  thou  at  the 
battle  of  the  birds  t  say  thou  that  tiiou  wert  And  if 
she  asks,  Didst  thou  see  my  likeness  t  say  that  ihou 

*  Nftcaihairt'theamain.    Heatker  ropes  are  used  for  bindÌDg 
thetohoo  HigUend  ooitegee. 


26  wnr  HIOHLAHD  TAIJ& 

sawert  it  Bat  be  sure  thai  thoa  meetest  me  to-monaw 
morning  here,  in  this  place.**  The  kingf  a  son  got  good 
and  right  good  treatment  this  night  Meat  of  each 
meat  drink  of  each  drink,  warm  water  to  his  feet  <^ 
a  soft  bed  for  hia  limba. 

On  the  next  day  the  raven  gave  him  the  same  sight 
over  seven  Bens,  and  seven  Olens,  and  seven  Mountain 
moors.  They  saw  a  bothy  far  ofi^  but  though  hi  oft, 
they  were  soon  there.  He  got  good  treatment  this 
night  as  before — plenty  of  meat  and  drink,  and  warm 
water  to  his  feet  and  a  sofk  bed  to  his  limbs— -and  on 
the  next  day  it  was  the  same  thing. 

On  the  third  morning,  instead  of  seeing  the  raven 
as  at  the  other  times,  who  should  meet  him  but  the 
handsomest  lad  he  ever  saw,  with  a  bundle  in  his 
hand.  The  king's  son  asked  this  lad  if  he  had  seen  a 
big  black  raven.  Said  the  lad  to  him,  ''  Thou  wilt 
never  see  the  raven  again,  for  I  am  that  raven.  I  was 
put  under  spells  ;  it  was  meeting  thoe  that  loosed  me, 
and  for  that  thou  art  getting  this  bundla  Now," 
said  the  lad,  "  thou  wilt  turn  back  on  the  self-same 
steps,  and  thou  wilt  lie  a  night  in  each  house,  as  thou 
wert  before ;  but  thy  lot  is  not  to  lose  the  bundle 
which  I  gave  thee,  till  thou  art  in  the  place  where  thou 
wouldst  most  wish  to  dwell** 

The  king^s  son  turned  his  back  to  the  lad,  and  his 
face  to  his  father^s  house ;  and  he  got  lodging  from 
the  raven's  sisters,  just  as  he  got  it  when  going 
forward.  When  he  was  nearing  his  father^s  house  he 
was  going  through  a  close  wood.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  the  bundle  was  growing  heavy,  and  he  thought  he 
would  look  what  was  in  it 

When  he  loosed  the  bundle,  it  was  not  without 
astomshing  himself.  In  a  twinkling  he  sees  the  very 
grandest  place  he  ever  saw.      A  great  castle,  and  an 


Tm  BATTLB  OF  THB  BIRDS.  2J 

oiehaid  about  the  castloy  in  which  was  eveiy  kind  of 
finit  and  herb.  He  stood  fiill  of  wonder  and  regret 
for  having  loosed  the  bundle — it  was  not  in  his  power 
to  put  it  back  again — and  he  would  have  wished  this 
pretty  place  to  be  in  the  pretty  little  green  hollow  that 
was  opposite  his  father^s  house ;  but^  at  one  gknce, 
he  sees  a  great  giant  coming  towards  him. 

**  Bad*8  the  place  where  thou  hast  built  thy  housoy 
kin^s  son,**  says  the  giant  **  Te^,  but  it  is  not  here 
I  would  wish  it  to  be,  though  it  happened  to  be  here 
by  mishap,**  says  the  king's  son.  **  What's  the  reward 
thou  wouldst  give  me  for  putting  it  back  in  the  bundle 
as  it  was  before  t  **  **  What's  the  reward  thou  wouldst 
ask  t^  says  the  king's  son.  ''  If  thou  wilt  give  me  the 
first  son  thou  hast  when  he  is  seven  years  of  age,**  says 
the  giant  **  Thou  wilt  get  that  if  I  have  a  son,**  said 
the  king's  son. 

In  a  twinkling  the  giant  put  each  garden,  and 
orchard,  and  castle  in  the  bundle  as  they  were  before. 
^Now,**  says  the  giant^  "take  thou  thine  own  road, 
and  I  will  take  my  road ;  but  mind  thy  promise^  and 
though  thou  shouldst  forget^  I  will  remember.** 

The  king's  son  took  to  the  road,  and  at  the  end  of 
a  few  days  he  reached  the  place  he  was  fondest  of 
He  loosed  the  bundle,  and  the  same  place  was  just  as 
it  was  befora  And  when  he  opened  the  casUe-door 
he  sees  the  handsomest  maiden  he  ever  cast  eye  upon. 
^  Advance,  king's  son,**  said  the  pretty  maid ;  **  every- 
thing 18  in  order  for  thee,  if  thou  wilt  marry  me  this 
very  night**  **  It's  I  am  the  man  that  is  willing,**  said 
the  king's  son.     And  on  that  same  night  they  married. 

But  at  the  end  of  a  day  and  seven  years,  what  ^^  ^'' 
great  man  is  seen  coming  to  the  castle  but  the  giant  (  ^ 

The  king's  son  minded  his  promise  to  the  giant^  and 
till  now  he  had  not  told  his  promise  to  the  queen,    p^ 


a8  mer  HIQHLAND  TALK. 

''  Leave  thou  (the  matter)  between  me  and  the  giant,*' 
says  the  queen. 

''Tom  out  thy  son,"  says  the  giant ;  ^ mind  your 
promise."  ''  Thou  wilt  get  Uiat,"  says  the  king,  **  when 
his  mother  puts  him  in  order  for  his  journey."  The 
queen  arrayed  the  cook's  son,  and  she  gave  him  to  the 
giant  by  the  hand  The  giant  went  away  with  him ; 
but  he  had  not  gone  far  when  he  put  a  rod  in  the  hand 
of  the  little  laddie.  The  giant  asked  him — ''  If  thy 
fiather  had  that  rod  what  would  he  do  with  it t"  ''If 
my  father  had  that  rod  he  would  beat  the  dogs  and  the 
cats,  if  they  would  be  going  near  the  king^s  meat,"  said 
the  little  laddie.  **  Thou'rt  the  cook's  son,"  said  the 
giant  He  catches  him  by  the  two  small  ankles  and 
knocks  him — **  Sgleog  " — against  the  stone  that  was 

^  beside  him.  The  giant  turned  back  to  the  castle  in  rage 
and  madness,  and  he  said  tliat  if  thoy  did  not  turn  out 
the  king^s  son  to  him,  the  highest  stone  of  the  castle 
would  be  the  lowest  Said  the  queen  to  the  king^ 
**  we'll  try  it  yet ;  the  butler's  son  is  of  the  same  age 
as  our  son."  She  arrayed  the  butler's  son,  and  she 
gives  him  to  the  giant  by  the  hand.  The  giant  had 
not  gone  far  when  he  put  the  rod  in  his  hand.  ''  If 
thy  father  had  that  rod,"  says  the  giant,  **  wliat  would 
he  would  do  with  it  Ì "  "  He  would  beat  the  dogs  and 
the  cats  when  they  would  be  coming  near  the  king^s 
bottles  and  glasses."    "  Thou  art  the  son  of  the  butler," 

^  says  the  giant,  and  dashed  his  brains  out  too.  The 
giant  returned  in. very  great  rage  and  anger.  The 
earth  shook  under  the  sole  of  his  feet,  and  the  castle 
shook  and  all  that  was  in  it.  **  Out  hbrb  tht  Son," 
says  the  giant,  '*or  in  a  twinkling  the  stone  that  is 
highest  in  the  dwelling  will  be  the  lowest."  So  needs 
must  they  had  to  give  the  king*^  son  to  the  giant 
The  giant  took  him  to  his  own  house,  and  he 


THB  BATTLl  OF  THB  BIBDS.  2g 

reared  him  as  his  own  boil  On  a  day  of  days  when 
the  giant  was  from  home,  the  lad  heard  the  sweetest 
mosic  he  ever  heard  in  a  room  at  the  top  of  the  giant's 
house.  At  a  glance  he  saw  the  finest  face  he  had  ever 
seen.  She  heckoned  to  him  to  come  a  hit  nearer  to 
her,  and  she  told  him  to  go  this  time,  hut  to  he  sure 
to  he  at  the  same  place  ahout  that  dead  midnight 

And  as  he  promised  he  did.  The  giant*  s  daughter 
was  at  his  side  in  a  twinkling,  and  she  said,  ''To- 
morrow thou  wilt  get  the  choice  of  my  two  sisters  to 
marry ;  but  say  thou  that  thou  wilt  not  take  either,  but 
me.  My  father  wants  me  to  marry  the  son  of  the 
king  of  the  Green  City, butJd$u>lUikfi^m.''  On  the  ^ 
morrow  the  giant  took  out  his  three  daughters,  and  he 
said,  ''  Now,  son  of  the  king  of  Tethertown,  thou  hast 
not  lost  by  living  with  me  so  long.  Thou  wilt  get  to 
wife  one  of  the  two  eldest  of  my  daughters,  and  with 
her  leave  to  go  home  with  her  Ùie  day  after  the  wed- 
ding." ''  K  thou  wilt  give  mo  this  pretty  little  one,*' 
says  the  king^s  son,  **  I  will  take  thoe  at  thy  word." 

The  giant's  wrath  kindled,  and  ho  said,  **  Before 
thou  getf  st  her  thou  must  do  the  three  things  that  I 
ask  thee  to  do."  ''  Say  on,"  says  the  king's  son.  The 
giant  took  him  to  the  byre.  **  Now,"  says  the  giant, 
''  the  dung  of  the  hundred  cattle  is  here,  and  it  has 
not  been  cleansed  for  seven  years.  I  am  going  from 
home  to-day,  and  if  this  byre  is  not  cleaned  before 
night  comes,  so  clean  that  a  golden  apple  will  run  from 
end  to  end  of  it,  not  only  thou  shalt  not  get  my  daugh- 
ter, but  'tis  a  drink  of  Uiy  blood  that  will  quench  my 
thirst  this  night"  He  begins  cleaning  the  byre,  but  - 
it  was  just  as  well  to  keep  baling  the  great  ocean. 
Afler  mid-day,  when  sweat  was  blinding  him,  the 
giant's  young  daughter  came  where  he  was,  and  she 
said  to  him,  **  Thou  art  being  punishod,  king^s  son." 


30  WKT  mGHLAND  TALB. 

*'I  am  ihat^"  says  ihe  king's  son.  '^Come  OTer,"* 
says  ahe^  ''  and  lay  down  thy  weaiinMa**  ''  I  will  do 
that^"  saya  he,  ^*  there  is  bat  death  awaiting  me,  at 
any  rate."  He  sat  down  near  her.  He  was  so  tired 
that  he  fell  asleep  beside  her.  When  he  awoke,  the 
giant*s  daughter  was  not  to  be  seen,  but  the  byre  was  so 
well  cleaned  that  a  golden  apple  would  run  from  end  to 
end  of  it  In  comes  the  giant,  and  he  said,  ''Thou  hast 
cleaned  the  byre,  king's  son t "  ''I  haye  cleaned  it,** 
says  he.  '' Somebody  cleaned  it,"  says  the  giant  ''Thou 
didst  not  clean  it,  at  all  events,"  said  the  kin§f  s  son. 
''  Yes,  yes  1"  says  the  giant,  **  since  thou  wert  so  actiye 
to-day,  thou  wilt  get  to  this  time  to-morrow  to  thatch  this 
byre  with  birds'  down — ^birds  with  no  two  feathers  of 
one  colour."  The  king's  son  was  on  foot  before  the  sun ; 
he  caught  up  his  bow  and  his  quiver  of  arrows  to 
kill  the  birds.  He  took  to  the  moors,  but  if  he  did, 
the  birds  were  not  so  easy  to  take.  He  was  running 
after  them  till  the  sweat  was  blinding  him.  About 
mid-day  who  should  come  but  the  giant's  daughter. 
''Thou  art  exhausting  thyself  king's  son,"  says  she. 
''  I  am,"  said  he.  "  There  foil  but  these  two  black- 
birds, and  both  of  one  colour."  "  Come  over  and  lay 
down  thy  weariness  on  this  pretty  hillock,"  says  the 
giant's  daughter.  "  It 's  I  am  willing,"  said  he.  *He 
thought  she  would  aid  him  this  time,  too,  and  he  sat 
down  near  her,  and  he  was  not  long  there  till  he  fell 
asleep. 

When  he  awoke,  the  giant's  daughter  was  gone. 

He  thought  he  would  go  back  to  the  house,  and  he  sees 

the  byre  thatched  with  the  feathers.     When  the  giant 

came  home,  he  said,   "  Thou  hast  thatched  the  byre, 

y  f  king's  son  t "     "  I  thatched  it,"  says  he.     "  Somebody 

'     i    thatched  it,"  says  the  giant     "  Thou  didst  not  thatch 

•   it,"  says  the  king's  son.     "  Yes,  yes  ! "  says  the  giant 


THB  BATTLB  OF  THB  BIBD6.  $1 

**  Now,"  sayB  the  giant^  ^  iheie  ìb  a  fir-tree  beside  that 
loch  down  there,  and  there  is  a  magpie*8  nest  in  its 
top.  The  eggs  thou  wilt  find  in  the  nest  I  must 
have  them  for  my  first  meal.  Not  one  must  be 
burst  or  broken,  and  there  are  five  in  the  nest."  Early 
in  the  morning  the  king's  son  went  where  the  tree 
was,  and  that  tree  was  not  hard  to  hit  upon.  Its 
match  was  not  in  the  whole  wood.  From  the  foot  to 
the  first  branch  was  five  hundred  feet  The  king^s 
son  was  going  all  round  the  tree.  She  came  who  was 
always  bringing  help  to  him.  ''Thou  art  losing  the 
skin  of  thy  hands  and  feet"  *'  Ach  1  I  am,"  says  ha 
'^  I  am  no  sooner  up  than  down."  **  This  is  no  time 
for  stopping,"  says  the  giant's  daughter.  She  thrust 
finger  after  finger  into  tiie  tree,  till  she  made  a  ladder 
for  the  king's  son  to  go  up  to  the  magpie's  nest 
When  he  was  at  the  neet,  she  said,  "  Make  haste  now 
with  the  eggs,  for  my  father^s  breath  is  burning  my 
back."  In  his  huny  she  left  her  little  finger  in  the  top 
of  the  tree.  ''  Now,"  says  she,  '*  thou  wilt  go  home  with 
the  eggs  quickly,  and  thou  wilt  get  mo  to  many  to- 
night if  thou  canst  know  me.  I  and  my  two  sisters 
will  be  arrayed  in  the  same  garments,  and  made  like 
each  other,  but  look  at  me  when  my  father  says.  Go 
to  thy  wife,  king^s  son ;  and  thou  wilt  see  a  hand 
without  a  little  finger."  He  gave  the  ^ggs  to  the 
giant  **  Tes,  yes  1"  says  the  giant,  "  be  making  ready 
for  thy  marriage." 

Then  indeed  there  was  a  wedding,  and  it  was  a 
wedding  1  Giants  and  gentlemen,  and  the  son  of  the 
king  of  the  Green  City  was  in  the  midst  of  them. 
They  were  married,  and  the  dancing  began,  and  that 
was  a  dance  1  The  giant's  house  was  shaking  finom 
top  to  bottom.  But'  bed  time  came,  and  the  giant 
said,  ^*  It  is  time  for  thee  to  go  to  rest^  son  of  the 


3«  • 

kù^  of  Tithf  ■<»■■;  teki  tkj  bn^  widi  tkM  ham 


Ske  pal  out  tìbe  ^BÌ  off  wkkà  &»  fittb 
and  ha  ca^g^  her  hj  tha  haad. 

^* Thoa  hart  ainad  v^  thk  lòaa  too;  bift  ttm 
it  no  knowing  bni  we  wèmj  mmèL  thaa  anollifr  wsj," 
aaid  tìbagianL 

Bnft  to  loi  Hiqr  vent  ''Kow*  wyB  dhi^ 'daep 
not^  or  eln  thoa  dktL  We  nrart  ily  qnìeky  ^[v>eh, 
or  Ibr  eaiain  m j  firther  will  kill  ibecL* 

Out  thaj  wenl^  and  on  tha  bine  gsaj  fiHy  in  the 
ataUe  thaj  mounted.  "^  Stop  a  whiK*  aaja  Ai^  "<  and 
I  will  play  a  tnck  to  the  old  heroL*  She  jmnped  in, 
and  cot  an  apple  into  nine  aham^  and  the  pot  two  ahaiaa 
at  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  two  ahaiaa  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed,  and  two  ahaiae  at  the  door  of  the  kitchen,  and  two 
ahaiea  at  the  big  dooi^  and  one  oataide  the  hooae. 

The  giant  awoke  and  called,  ^Are  70a  aakept* 
^  We  are  not  jet,"  aaid  the  apple  that  waa  at  the  head 
of  the  bed.  At  the  end  of  a  while  he  called  again. 
"  We  are  not  yet,"  aaid  the  apple  that  was  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed.  A  while  after  thia  he  called  again.  ^We 
are  not  yet,"  aaid  the  apple  at  the  kitchen  doon  Hie 
giant  called  again.  The  apple  that  was  at  the  big  door 
answered.  **  You  are  now  going  for  from  me^**  says  the 
giant  '^We  ore  not  yet^**  aays  ihe  apple  that  was 
oataide  the  house.  **  Ton  are  flying,"  says  the  giant 
The  giant  jumped  on  his  feet^  and  to  the  bed  he  went, 
but  it  was  cold — empty. 

**  My  own  daughter's  tricks  are  trying  me,"  said 
the  giant     **  Here's  after  them,"  says  ha 

In  tlie  mouih  of  day,  the  giant's  daughter  said  that 
her  father's  breath  was  burning  her  back.  ^  Put  thy 
hand,  quick,''  aaid  she,  "  in  th9  ear  of  the  gray  filly, 
and  whatever  thou  findest  in  it,  throw  it  behind  thee." 


THB  BATTLB  OF  TBI  BIB08.  «    33 

'^There  is  a  twig  ctf  sloe  tree,"  said  ha     ''Throw  it 
hehind  thee,"  said  she.  ^ 

No  sooner  did  he  that,  than  there  were  twenty 
miles  of  hlnck  thorn  wood,  so  thick  that  scarce  a  weasel 
ooold  go  tlirough  it  The  giant  came  headlong,  and 
there  he  is  fleecing  his  head  and  neck  in  the  thorns. 

^  My  own  daughter's  tricks  are  here  as  before,"  said 
the  giant ;  ''  but  if  I  had  my  own  big  axe  and  wood  knife 
here,  I  would  not  be  long  making  a  way  through  this." 
He  went  home  for  the  big  axe  and  the  wood  knife,  and 
sure  he  was  not  long  on  his  journey,  and  he  was  the 
boy  behind  the  big  axe.  He  was  not  long  making  a 
way  through  the  black  thorn.  *'  I  will  leave  the  axe 
and  the  wood  knife  here  till  I  return,"  says  he.  '*  ÌÌ 
thou  leave  them,"  said  a  Hoodie*  that  was  in  a  tree, ''  we 
will  steal  theuL" 

''  Tou  will  do  that  same,"  says  the  giant,  "  but  I 
will  set  them  home."  He  returned  and  left  them  at 
the  house.  At  the  heat  of  day  the  giant's  daughter 
felt  her  father's  breath  burning  her  back. 

''  Put  thy  finger  in  tlio  filly's  ear,  and  throw  behind 
thee  whatever  thou  findest  in  it"  He  got  a  splinter  of 
gray  stone,  and  in  a  twinkling  there  were  twenty  miles, 
by  breadth  and  height,  of  great  gray  rock  behind  them, 
llie  giant  came  full  pelt,  but  past  the  rock  he  could 
not  go. 

"  The  tricks  of  my  own  daughter  are  the  hardest 
things  that  ever  mot  mo,"  says  the  giant ;  ''  but  if  I 
had  my  lever  and  my  mighty  mattock,  I  would  not  be 
long  making  my  way  through  this  rock  also."  There 
was  no  help  for  it,  but  to  turn  the  chase  for  them  ; 
and  he  was  the  boy  to  split  the  stones.  He  was  not 
long  making  a  road  through  the  rock.     ''  I  will  leave 

*  Tb«  pnncipa]  GteKb  Toweli  bear  tome  retembUnce  to  the 
cawing  of  a  hoodie.    Thej  are  all  brcMd  A. 

D 


34     *  Wnr  HIOIILAKD  TALE& 

the  tools  here,  and  I  will  letam  no  moie."  **  If  thoa' 
leave  tbenii'*  says  the  ^oodì^  "we  will  steal  them." 
"  Do  that  if  thou  wilt ;  there  ia  no  time  to  go  back.** 
At  the  time  of  breaking  the  watch,  the  giant* a  danghter 
said  that  she  was  feeling  her  father's  breath  burning 
her  back.  "  Look  in  the  filly's  ear,  king's  son,  or  else  we 
are  lost."  He  did  so,  and  it  was  a  bladder  of  water 
that  was  in  her  ear  this  time.  He  threw  it  behind  him 
and  there  was  a  fresh-water  locl^twen^  mih^  in  length 
and  breadth,  behind  thenL  y 

The  giant  came  on,  but  with  the  speed  he  had  on 
him,  he  was  in  the  middle  of  the  loch,  and  he  went 
under,  and  he  rose  no  more. 

On  the  next  day  the  young  companions  were  come 
in  sight  of  his  fathor^s  house.  "  Now,"  said  she,  **  my 
father  is  drowned,  and  ho  won't  trouble  us  any  more ; 
but  before  we  go  further,"  says  she,  "  go  thou  to  thy 
father's  house,  and  tell  that  thou  hast  the  like  of  me ; 
but  this  is  thy  lot,  let  neither  man  nor  creature  kiss 
thee,  for  if  thou  dost  thou  wilt  not  remember  that 
thou  hast  ever  seen  me."  Every  one  he  met  was 
giving  him  welcome  and  luck,  and  he  charged  his  father 
and  mother  not  to  kiss  him  ;  but  as  mishap  was  to  be, 
an  old  greyhound  was  in  and  she  know  him,  and  jumped 
up  to  liis  moutli,  and  aflor  that  ho  did  not  remember 
the  giant's  daughter. 

She  was  sitting  at  the  well's  side  as  he  left  her,  but 
the  king's  son  was  not  coming.  In  the  mouth  of  night 
she  climbed  up  into  a  tree  of  oak  that  was  beside  the 
well,  and  she  lay  in  the  fork  of  the  tree  all  that  night 
A  shoemaker  had  a  house  near  the  well,  and '  about 
nud-day  on  the  morrow,  the  shoemaker  asked  his  wife 
to  go  for  a  drink  for  him  out  of  the  wclL  When 
the  shoemaker's  wife  reached  the  well,  and  when 
she  saw  tlie  shadow  of  her  that  was  in  the  tree,  think- 


THB  BATTLB  OF  THB  BUUML  35 

ing  of  it  that  it  was  her  own  shadow — and  she  noYor 
thought  till  now  that  she  was  so  handsome — she  gave 
a  cast  to  the  dish  that  wss  in  her  hand,  and  it  was 
broken  on  the  ground,  and  she  took  herself  to  the 
house  without  vessel  or  water. 

**  Where  ìb  the  water,  wife  T  said  the  shoemaker. 
''Thou  shamhling,  contemptible  old  carle,  without 
grace,  I  have  stayed  too  long  thy  water  and  wood 
thralL"  *  ''  I  am  thinking,  wife,  that  thou  hast  turned 
erazy.  Go  thou,  daughter,  quickly,  and  fetch  a  drink 
for  thy  father."  His  daughter  went,  and  in  the  same 
way  so  it  happened  to  her.  She  never  thought  till 
now  that  she  was  so  loveable,  and  she  took  herself 
homa  ''  Up  with  the  drink,"  said  her  father.  ''  Thou 
home-spunf  shoe  carle,  dost  thou  think  that  I  am  fit  to 
be  thy  thndL**  The  poor  shoemaker  thought  that  they 
had  taken  a  turn  in  their  understandings,  and  he  went 
himself  to  the  welL  He  saw  the  shadow  of  the  maiden 
in  the  well,  and  he  looked  up  to  the  tree,  and  he  sees 
the  finest  woman  he  ever  saw.  **  Thy  seat  is  wavering, 
bat  thy  face  is  fair,"  said  the  shoemaker.  ''  Come 
down,  for  there  is  need  of  thee  for  a  short  while  at  my 
house."  The  shoemaker  understood  that  this  was  the 
shadow  that  had  driven  hÌB  people  mad.  The  shoe> 
maker  took  her  to  his  house,  and  he  said  that  he  had 
but  a  poor  bothy,  but  that  she  should  get  a  share  of  all 
that  was  in  it  At  the  end  of  a  day  or  two  came  a 
leash  of  gentlemen  lads  to  tlio  slioomakor^s  house  for 
shoes  to  be  made  them,  for  the  king  had  come  home, 
and  he  was  going  to  marry.  The  glance  the  lads  gave 
they  saw  the  giant's  daughter,  end  if  they  saw  her, 
they  never  saw  one  so  pretty  as  she.  ''  Tis  thou  hast 
the  pretty  daughter  here,"  said  the  lads  to  the  shoe- 
maker.    ''  She  is  pretty,  indeed,"  says  the  shoemaker, 

•  Tràai,  a  •]»?•.  f  Peillag,  fiilt,  coarse  eloUi. 


36  wnr  highlàhd  talb. 

^  bat  she  is  no  dang^ier  of  mine."  ^St  NailT  said  one 
of  them,  ''  I  would  give  a  hundred  pounds  to  many 
her."  Hie  two  others  said  the  veiy  sama  Hie  poor 
shoemaker  said  that  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  her. 
**  But^"  said  they,  ''  ask  her  to-night^  and  send  us  word 
to-morrow."  When  the  gentles  went  away,  she  asked 
the  shoemaker — '*  What 's  that  they  were  saying  about 
met"  The  shoemaker  told  her.  ''Go  thou  after 
them,"  said  she ;  ''  I  will  marry  one  of  them,  and  let 
him  bring  his  purse  with  him."  The  shoemaker 
went  after  them,  and  he  told  that  The  youth  re- 
turned, and  he  gave  the  shoemaker  a  hundred  pounds 
for  tocher.  They  went  to  rest^  and  when  she  had  laid 
down,  she  asked  the  lad  for  a  drink  of  water  from  a 
tumbler  that  was  on  the  board  on  the  further  side  of 
the  chamber.  He  went ;  but  out  of  that  he  could  not 
come,  as  he  lield  the  vessel  of  water  the  length  of  the 
night  ''  Thou  lad,"  said  she,  **  why  wilt  thou  not  lie 
down  t"  but  out  of  that  ho  could  not  drag  till  the 
bright  morrow's  day  was.  The  shoemaker  came  to  the 
door  of  the  chamber,  and  she  asked  him  to  take  away 
that  lubberly  boy.  This  wooer  wont  and  betook  him- 
self to  his  home,  but  he  did  not  tell  the  other  two  how 
it  happened  to  him.  Next  came  the  second  chap,  and 
and  in  the  same  way,  when  she  hod  gone  to  rest— - 
J  ''  Look,"  she  said,  '*  if  the  latch  is  on  the  door."  The 
latch  laid  hold  of  his  hands,  and  out  of  that  he  could 
not  come  the  length  of  the  night,  and  out  of  that  he 
did  not  come  till  the  morrow's  day  was  bright  He 
went,  under  shame  and  disgrace.  No  matter,  he  did 
not  tell  the  other  chap  how  it  liad  happened,  and  on 
the  third  night  he  came.  As  it  happened  to  the  two 
others,  so  it  happened  to  him.  One  foot  stuck  to  the 
floor ;  he  could  neither  come  nor  go,  but  so  he  was 
the  length  of  the  night     On  the  morrow,  he  took  his 


THB  BATTLI  OF  THB  BIB08.  37 

•olfls  out  (of  thai),  and  he  was  not  seen  looking  behind 
him.  **  Now,"  said  the  girl  to  the  shoemaker,  "  thine 
is  the  sporran  of  gold ;  I  have  no  need  of  it  It  will 
better  thee,  and  I  am  no  worse  for  thy  kindness  to  me." 
The  shoemaker  had  the  shoes  ready,  and  on  that  veiy 
day  the  king  was  to  be  married.  The  ahoemaker  was 
going  to  the  castle  with  the  shoes  of  the  young  people, 
and  the  girl  said  to  the  shoemaker,  "  I  woold  like  to 
get  a  sight  of  the  king's  son  before  he  marries."  ^" 
^'Come  with  me,"  says  the  shoemaker,  "I  am  well 
5oqnainted  with  the  servants  at  the  casUe,  and  thou 
ibaTv  gfit  a  sight  of  the  king's  son  and  all  the  company." 
And  when  the  gentles  saw  the  pretty  woman  that  was 
heie  they  took  her  to  the  wedding-room,  and  they 
filled  for  her  a  glass  of  wine.  When  she  was  going  to 
drink  what  is  in  it^  a  flame  wont  up  out  of  the  glass,  *^ 
and  a  golden  pigeon  and  a  silver  pigeon  sprung  out  of 
it  They  were  flying  about  when  three  grains  of  barley 
ftll  on  the  floor.  IDie  silver  pigeon  sprang;  and  he 
eats  thai  Said  the  golden  pigeon  to  him,  ^  If  thou 
hadst  mind  when  I  cleared  the  byre^  thou  wouldst  not 
eat  that  without  giving  me  a  share."  Again  fell  three 
other  grains  of  barley,  and  the  silver  pigeon  sprang; 
and  he  eats  ihat^  as  befora  ^'K  thou  hadst  mind 
when  I  thatched  the  byre,  thou  wouldst  not  eat  that 
without  giving  me  my  share,"  says  the  golden  pigeon. 
Three  other  grains  fidl,  and  the  silver  pigeon  sprang, 
and  he  eats  that  "  K  thou  hadst  mind  when  I  harried 
the  magpie's  nest,  thou  wouldst  not  eat  that  without 
giving  me  my  share,"  says  the  golden  pigeon  ;  *'  1  lost 
my  little  finger  bringing  it  down,  and  I  want  it  stilL" 
The  king*s  son  minded,  and  he  knew  who  it  was  he 
had  got  Ho  sprang  where  she  was,  and  kissed  her 
from  hand  to  mouth.  And  when  the  priest  came  they  ^ 
married  a  second  Uma     And  theie  I  left  them. 


3^  WBBT  HIOHLAND  TALKS. 

Tliia  Tenion  of  tho  Batile  of  the  Birds  w«i  radtecl  bj  Jolm 
Mackeniie,  April  1869,  and  written  in  Qeelio  hj  Hoctor  Urqubert. 
The  redter  is  a  fiiherman,  and  haa  resided  for  the  last  thirtj-fonr 
years  at  Ceanmore,  near  InTerary,  on  the  estate  of  the  Duke  of 
Argyll.  He  is  a  native  of  Lorn.  He  says  he  has  known  it 
from  his  yoath,  and  he  has  been  in  the  habit  of  repeating  it  to 
his  friends  on  winter  nights,  as  a  pastime.  **J/e  oofi  read 
Engliik  amdfiay  the  hoffpipei^  and  hat  a  memory  Uk$  OUoer  and 
B&yd^è  Almanac"  He  got  this  and  his  other  stories  from  his 
father  and  other  old  people  in  Lorn  and  elsewhere.  He  is  abont 
sixty  years  of  age,  and  was  employed,  April  1859,  in  building 
dykes  on  the  estate  of  Ardkinglas,  where  Hector  Urqnhart  is 
gamekeeper.  In  reciting  his  stories  he  has  all  the  manner  of  a 
practised  narrator;  people  still  freqnent  his  house  to  hear  his 
tales.  I  know  the  man,  and  I  haTe  heard  him  recite  many.  The 
Qaelio  has  some  few  north  country  words. 

CATH  NAN  EUN. 

Bha  am  ann  nalr,  anns  an  robh  na  h*  uile  beathach  's  eun  a  crulnn- 
eachadh  gu  oath.  Thubhairt  mao  rkgh  Cathair  Shiomain,  ^'Gu'n 
racbsdh  e  a  dh'  f  haiclnn  a  chsth,  agoa  gun  d'  thugadh  e  fiot  dnut- 
each  dhachaidh  do  dli'  athair  an  rkgb,  co  a  bbiodh  'na  i^gh  air  na 
beathaichcan  air  a  bhliadhua  so.**  Bha  'n  cath  seachad  mu  *n 
drkinig  e,  ach  eadar  aon-f  hiUieach  roòr  dubli  agus  natliair,  agus  bha 
aogas  gu*m  fiiigheadh  an  nathair  buaidh  air  an  f  bitheach.  'Nuair 
a  chunnaic  mac  an  i^h  so^  chuidich  e  *m  fltheach,  agus  le  aon  bhuille 
thugar  an  ceann  do  'n  nathair.  *Nuair  a  leig  am  fltheach  anall,  'sa 
chunnaio  e  gu*u  robh  an  nathair  marbh,  thubhairt  e,  "  Air  son  do 
chaoimhneis  dhòmhsa  an  diugb,  bheir  mÌM  sealladh  dhuit;  tkdg  a 
nios  a  nis  air  bun  mo  dhk  tgdlthe.**  Chaidh  mac  an  righ  suas  air 
mnin  an  f  hkhlch  agus  mu  *n  do  stad  e,  thug  e  thairis  e  air  leachd 
beanntaibh,  seachd  glinn,  agus  seachd  monaidbean.  ''A  nla,**  ara* 
am  fltheach,  "  am  bheil  tbu  faicinn  an  tigh  'ud  thàll ;  falbh  a  nis  d'a 
'ionnsuidh ;  *8  i  piuthar  dbòmhsa  a  tha  gabhail  còmhnuidh  ann  agus 
th^id  mis  *an  nrras  guV  è  do  bheatha,  agus  ma  dh'  f  hoighneachdaa  i 
dMot,  'an  robh  thu  aig  Cath  nan  eun?  abair  thusa,  *gu'n  robh'.'* 
*'  Agus  ma  dh'  f  heòraicheas  i  dhiot,  'am  faca  tu  mo  choltas-aa,  abair 
thusa  'gu  'm  faca,  ach  bl  dnnteach  gu'n  ooinnlch  thu  mise  moch  am 
mkireach  anns  an  kite  so."  Flinair  mac  an  r\gh  gabhail  ai^e  gu 
maith  's  gu  ro  mhaith  air  an  oidhche  so,  biadh  dheth  gucb  biadh,  's 


CATH  NAM  BUN.  $9 

dtoeh  dheth  gach  deoch,  ninge  blkth  d*a  ehastn  *i  kabt  bhog  d*a 
Immiu  Air  an  ath  Utha,  thng  am  fitheach  an  sealladh  oaodna  dhà 
thairii  air  leacbd  beanntaibh,  teachd  glinn,  agns  aeachd  monaidbean. 
Chvmaie  iad  botban  fad*  natha  ach  ge  b*  f  bad  natba,  cba  b*  f  bada  *ga 
V«igb«acbd.  Fbuair  e  gabhail  aig*  air  an  oidhebe  to  gu  maith  mar 
aa  eandna;  pailteas  biadh  'i  deoch,  'i  tiisge  blàtb  d*a  chasan,  *8  leaba 
bhog  d*a  leasan.  Anm  treas  maduinn  an  kit*  an  f  hiUiich  f  baicinn, 
■Mr  air  na  h-uairean  roimbe,  Go  thng  ooinneanh  dha,  ach  an  t-ògaa- 
aeha  bn  dlureachmhoire  a  cbonnaic  e  riamh,  agut  patgaa  aig«  na 
Ihfanh.  Dh*  f  hoigneadid  mac  an  righ  do  *n  òganach  to,  **  Am  fae  • 
ittMach  mbr  dubh  ?  "  Thubhairt  an  t4»ganach  ri«, "  Cba  *n  Yhaic  Um 
*■  itheach  tnilUdh,  Oir  'i  miao  am  fltheach  a  bha  'lin;  bha  mi  air 
moehahr  fogheaiaibb  agna*M  tboM  a  clioinneachadh  a  dh*  fhoaigail 
mi,  air  ton  tin,  tha  tbu  a*  ùu>tainn  a  pbaigain  ao.**  **  Nil,**  an*  an 
l-bganach,  "pillidh  in  air  t*ais  air  a  eboif-chenm  eheudna,  agna 
bUUdh  ta  oidhebe  anm  gach  Ugh  mar  a  bha  thn  roimhe ;  aeh  am 
boon  a  iha  agad  ri  dbèanamb,  *na  fbaigail  am  patgaa  tin  a  thug 
ml  dbult,  gui  am  bl  tha  anna  an  kite  bn  mhiannaiohe  leat  a  bhith 
diòmhnaidh.**  Thug  mac  an  i)gh  a  chhl  air  an  bganacb,  agna  thog 
•  aghaidb  air  tigh  Athar,  agna  f  huairr  e  aoidheachd  aig  pcathraicliean 
aa  f  hithich  oeart  mar  a  f  hnair  e  'dot  air  aghaidh.  Nuair  a  bha  e 
dlhthachadh  air  tigh  athar,  bha  e  'dol  troimbe  ehoille  dhbmbail ;  air 
Ms  ga  *n  robh  am  paigan  a*  fha  trom,  agut  tmaoinich  e  gu  *n  seall- 
adh t  gn  dtf  a  bh*  ann.  'Nuair  a  dh*  f  huatgail  e  'm  patgan,  cha  b* 
ana  gun  iongantat  a  chur  air  f  hèin.  Ann  am  prioba  na  ilila,  Ikioear 
aa  aoB  bite  bu  blirèagha  a  chunnaio  e  riamh  oUttaal  mbr,  ague  lioi, 
aaaa  an  robh  na  h-ui)e  eebraa  meat  it  luibhean  man  cnalrt  air  a* 
ohakteal.  Sheet  e  Ihn  iongantalt,  ague  aitlireacbaia  ahr  ton  am  pat- 
gaa f  hnatgladli.  Cha  robh  *na  chomaa  a  chur  air  ait  a  rithitt,  agut 
ba  mhiann  leit  an  t-kite  boidbeach  to  a  bhith  air  an  lagan  bhbidheach 
aaine  a  bha  fa  chomliair  tigh  athar.  Ach  thil  do  *b  d*  thug  e^  (hieear 
ftmbair  mbr,  *a  e  gabhail  d*a  *ionntuldh.  **  *8  olo  an  t-hite  anna  an 
do  thog  tha  do  thigh,  a  mhic  an  righ,**  art*  am  fkmhair.  "  Seadh, 
aeh  eha  b*  ann  an  to  bu  mhiannaicbe  learn  e  *bhith,  ge  do  thachair 
t  'hhith  ann  gu  tubatoteach,**  area  mao  an  r\gh.  **  Ciod  an  doaia  a 
bheireadh  to  air  ton  a  chur  air  alt  ta  phatgan  mar  a  bha  e  roimhe? ** 
*Glod  an  doalt  a  dh'  iamdh  tu?**  arta  mac  an  righ.  *'Ma  bheir 
tha  dlibmbt'  a  cheod  mbao  a  bhitheat  agad,  *nuair  a  bhitheaa  e  teachd 
bliadhna  dh'  aoto,"  anT  am  famhair.  "  Qbeibb  tbu  tin  ma  bhitheat 
agam,**  thubhairt  mao  an  rit(h.  Ann  am  priolia  na  thia  cbulr 
famhair  gacb  lioe  it  gkrradh  it  Caitteal  *ta  pliatgan  mar  a  blia 
lodroimhe.    "Nit,**  art*  am  fiunhair,  •«gabh  thntadorathadfAa,*! 


40  Wnr  HIOHLAMD  7ALV8. 

gibbaidh  mÌM  mo  imtliad  tUn,  adi  eoimhiiieh  do  gboalladli  *t  god 
naeh  caimhiiich  thaM,  ch«  di-chuimhnich  mite."  Tirng  nuw  «i 
t^h  an  rttlud  sir,  *i  an  eeann  beagan  Ikithaan  ràinig  e  'n  t-àlta  Im 
mhiaiìDaiclia  laU;  dh'  fhuaigaO  e  *in  paigan,  agua  bha  *n  t-blta 
eaudiia  diraach  mar  a  Uha  e  roimha,  agna  a  noair  a  dh*  f  hoagaO  • 
donia  a  chaiateail,  fidoaar  ao  òigh  bu  dbraaebmholra  air  an  d*  thug  • 
abil  riamh.  "Tblg  air  Uaghaidh,  a  mbio  an  righ/  an'  an  ni^Maa 
bhòkdbtach,  **  tba  gaob  ni  an  òrdugh  air  do  abon,  maphbaaa  tn  miat^ 
an  nochd  ffln.**  *S  mia*  an  daioe  a  bhitbaaa  toilaaeb,**  tbubbabt 
mac  an  rigb ;  agna  air  an  oidbcha  ain  tiin  phba  lad.  Acb  an  eaann 
latha  'a  laachd  blladhna  co  'm  fear  mòr  a  cbitbear  a  tigbinn  a  dh* 
ionnauidh  a  chaiateail  ach  am  fkmhair.  Chuirnhnich  mao  an  i)gh  a 
gbealladh  do  *n  fkmhair,  agoa  goa  a  lo^  cba  d*  innia  e  do  *n  bban-iigh 
a  ghealladli.  **  Leig  thua'  eedar  mise  *a  am  fkmhair,**  ara*  a  bhan- 
rigii.  ''Coir  a  mach  do  mhac,**  ara'  am  fkmhair;  "cuimhnlchdo 
gbealladh.**  "Gheibh  tha  KÌn,**  ara*  an  righ,  <'*nnair  a  choireaa  a 
mhathair  an  òrdugh  e  air  ion  a  thuraia.**  Sgeadaich  a  bhan-righ 
mac  a  chòcaire  agna  thug  i  do  *n  f  hamhair  air  Ikimh  e.  Dh*  f  halbh 
am  famhair  leia,  ach  cha  b'  f  hada  a  chaidh  a^  *nQair  a  ehnir  t  alatag 
ann  an  Ikimh  a  ghille-bhig.  Dh*  f  heòraich  am  fkmhair  dhath,  <■  Na 
*m  bitheadh  an  t-alatag  ain  aig  t-athair,  da  *dhèanadh  a,  leatha?'* 
*  Na  *m  biodh  an  t-tlat  ao  aig  m*  athair,  ghabliadh  a  air  na  Coin  *a 
air  na  Cait  na  *m  biodh  iad  a  del  a  chòUr  biadh  an  rVgh/'  ara'  an  gilia- 
beag.  *'  'S  tiua  mao  a  chòoaire,"  art'  am  famhair.  Beirear  air  dha 
chAol  Coia*  air,  agna  agleogar  e  ria  a  chloich  a  bha  ri'  thaobh.  Thill 
am  famhair  air  aia  a  dh'  ionnauidh  a  chaiateail  ann  am  feirg  ia  cnth- 
ach,  'a  thubhairt  e,  **  Har  cuireadh  iad  a  mach  dhksan  mac  an  rigb,  gu 
'm  b'  e  'chlach  a  b*  kirde  a  chlach  a  b*  Ule  bhiodh  do  *n  chaiataal.** 
Tliubhairi  a  bhan-righ  ria  an  righ,  **  Feuchaidh  ainn  fkthaat  a^  tha 
mac  a  bhnidaalair  an  aon  aoia  ri  ar  mao  f^n.**  Sgtadaich  i  mao  a 
bhnidealair,  agna  tliugar  do  *n  f  hamhair  e  air  Ikimh.  Cha  deaeh 
am  fkmhair  ach  goirid,  nuair  a  chuir  e  'n  t-alatag  'n^  Ikimh,  **  Na  'm 
bitheadh  an  t-alat  ao  aig  t-athair,"  ara*  am  famhair,  "di  h  dhèan- 
adh  e  leatha?**  **  Qhabhadh  e  air  na  Coin  *a  air  na  Cait  'nuair  a 
bhiodh  iad  a  tighinn  dlhth  air  botail  'a  air  gloinneachan  an  righ.* 
"  'S  tuaa  mac  a  bhuidealair,"  ara*  am  fiimhair,  ia  ajMid  e  'n  t-eanchainn 
aa  air  an  dòigh  dieudna.  Thill  ara  famhair,  ann  am  felrg  ia  oorrnlch 
ro  mhbr.  Chrith  an  talamh  fo  *bhonn,  'a  chrith  an  caiateal  *8  na  bli* 
ann.  **  Haoh  am  ao  do  mhao,**  ara'  am  fiimhair,  "  oir  an  nam  prloba 
na  ahla  'a  e  chlach  ia  kirda,  'chlach  ia  Ule  bhitheaa  do  'n  aitreabh."  'S 
e  bli*  ann  gn  m  b'  tfiginn  mac  an  righ  thabhairt  do  'n  f  hamhair.  Thog 
am  famhair  e  d'a  thigh  f^n,  agua  thog  e  mar  mhac  dha  fnHn  e. 


CATH  NAK  EUK.  4' 

Litlyi  do  Bà  Ikithibh  's  am  famhair  bho  *n  bhaHe,  chnala  an  t-bgan- 
•eh  an  cebl  ba  bhinne  a  chnal  e  riamh,  ann  an  leomar  a  bha  *m  mnlU 
met  tigh  an  fhamhair.  SUil  do  'n  d*thng  e,  efannnaic  e  an  aghaidh  bn 
bhrèagha  a  chunoaic  e  riamh.  Smèkl  i  air  e  thighinn  ni  bu  diiiitbo 
dM,  agnt  thubliairt  1  ri%  **  E*  dh'  f  halbh  air  an  am  to  acfa  e  bhith 
ciaatcach  e  'bliith  anna  an  kite  chendna  mu  mharbh  mh«adhain-na 
li-oldlicha  to;**  agnt  mar  a  glwall,  choimUion.  Bha  nightan  in 
fhamhair  ri*  thaobh  ann  am  prioba  na  shla  agn«  thnbhairt  I  rii,  ''Am 
ahiicaeh  gbeibh  tha  do  rogbainn  ri  photadh  dhtih  mo  dhh  phiath- 
art  adi  abair  thusa  nach  gabh  thu  a  h-aon  dhiobh  ach  miae ;  iha  m* 
■thair  air  ton  gn  *m  pbt  mi  mac  i)gh  na  Cathair  naine,  adi  *t  eoma 
laaai  è.**  Air  an  latba  mkiraach,  thug  am  fiunhair  a  maeh  a  thrinir 
alghtan  't  thabliairt  a,  -Nh  a  mhic  f)gh  na  cathair  ahWmiain,  eha 
d»  ehaill  tha  air  a  bhith  leamta  cho  fada :  ghdbh  tim  air  ton  bean  aim 
do  *m  dithis  it  »ine  do  m*  nigheanaibh,  agut  bithidh  otad  agad  del 
dhachaidb  leatha,  an  d^gh  na  bainnta.**  "  Ma  blieir  tha  dhomh  an 
td  bhaag  bhòidlieach  to,**  arva  mae  an  i\gh,  *  gabhaidh  mi  air  t- 
f  haeal  tha.**  Laa  fearg  an  f  liamhair,  agna  thnbhairt  i^  ma*m  faigh 
thm  tin,  feumaidh  ta  na  tri  nithaanana  a  dh*  larraa  mit*  ort  a  dhèan- 
•mh.**  "  Abair  romliad,**  arta  mac  an  righ.  lliog  am  fiunhair  do  *n 
bhàtliaich  e.  "Kit,**  art*  am  famhair,  "  tlu  innear  nan  cend  damh 
aa  to^  agaa  dia  deach  a  chartadh  o  clitann  aeaclid  bliadhna.  "  Tha 
mitt  *dol  o  'n  bbaila  'n  diogh  a<;at  mar  bi  *m  bhtliach  to  air  a  chart- 
adh ma  *n  d*thi^  ao  oidliche  clio  glilan  *t  ga*n  rnith  aliliall  òir  o  cheann 
gn  etann,  dith  clia  *n  e  mhhin  nach  faigh  tha  mo  nighean,  ach  'a  e 
daoch  dhe  dthnil  a  chaitgaaa  mo  phatliadh  a  nocfad.**  Toitichaar 
•Ir  eartadh  na  bathaich,  ach  ba  cliaart  cho  maith  taannadh  ri  taom- 
adh  a  chuain  mbòir.  *N  d^gh  mheadhoin-latha  *t  am  faHoa  *ga 
•dhaOadh  thhinig  nigbaan  òg  an  f  liamliair  far  an  robh  a  *t  thnbh- 
airt 1  ri%  «■  Tha  tha  *ga*d*  phianadh,  a  mhic  an  r)gh.**  •'Thami'n 
tfa^**  arta  mac  an  righ.  "Thig  a  nail,**  art*  ita,  "agnt  Itig  do 
^Wm.**  "Nimi  tin,**  arteiao,  ••cha*n'eUachambhaaliBithaamh 
orm  00  dhin.**  Shaidh  a  tka  Ihimb  ritha.  Bha  a  cho  tg^th,  agna 
ga  *B  do  thait  e  *na  chadal  ri  *taobh.  *Nuair  a  dhhitg  t^  cha  mbh 
niglitan  an  fhamliair  ri  fbaidnn;  ach  blia,  bhalliaich  cho  glan 
aafata  *t  gn  *n  mithatdh  abhall  òir  bho  cliaann  gn  eoann  dhith.  "Staach 
thigcar  am  famhair,  *t  thnbhairt  a,  <■  Chairt  tbu  *m  bathaich,  a  mhio 
an  rìgh.**  •*  Chairt  mi,**  art*  etan.  *  Chairt  neach  ^iginn  i,**  art*  am 
Itflthair.  "Cba  do  chairt  that*  i  co  dhia,**  thubhairt  mae  an  High. 
*  Stadh  I  Seadh  I  **  art*  am  famhair,  blioB  a*  bha  thu  oo  tapaidh  an 
dlogli,  ghdbh  tha  got  an  am  to  am  mkireach  ga  tubhadh  a  bhathtlch 
■0  la  dMmh  aòin  goa  da  ita  air  an  aon  daUk**    Blia  amc  an  r\gh  air 


42  WEST  HIGHLAND  TALES. 

a  chob  rorn  ghrrln.  Ghlae  e  a  bhoght  *t  a  bhalg-MÌgliead  a  nharbli* 
adh  nan  èun.  Thug  e  *m  monadh  air,  ach  ma  thug,  cha  robh  na  1^ 
ebin  cho  furaada  ri  *m  faotainn.  Bha  •  a  ruith  *nan  d^h,  gua  aa 
robh  am  fallus  *ga  'dballadb.  Mu  mbeadhon-la  oo  "thigaadh  ach 
uighean  an  f  hamhair.  **Tha  thu  ga*d*  phianadh,  a  mhio  an  rtgli,*' 
art*  iie.  ^'Tha  mi/'  thubhairt  etàn,  *  cha  do  thuit  ach  an  dk  loo- 
dubh  so,  aguB  iad  air  aon  dath.**  **  Thig  a  nail,  *8  leig  do  igkM  air  a 
chnocan  bhòldhaach  lo,'*  arsa  nighaan  an  f  haaibalr.  **  'S  mi  tha  toQ* 
aach,*  thubhairt  caan.  Smaoinioh  e  gun  cobhairaadh  1  air  air  an 
km  10  cuideachd.  Shuidh  e  aiot  Ikimh  ritha,  *8  cha  b'f  had*  a  bha  t  "B 
ain  gua  an  do  thuit  a  *na  chadal ;  agua  a  nuair  a  dhhiag  t,  l»ha  nigh* 
aan  an  f  hamhair  air  fulbh.  Smaoinich  a  tillaadh  thun  an  tigha,  % 
laioaar  am  bathaich  tUghta  laia  na  h-itean.  "Nuair  a  thìdnig  am 
fkmhair  dhachaidh  thubhairt  e,  '*Thubh  thu  *m  bathaich,  a  mhio  an 
righ."  «Tbubh  mi,**  ara'  eaan.  '*Thubh  cuid-eiginn  i,"  art*  am 
famhair.  "Cha  do  thubh  thusa  i,**  arta  mac  an  rkgh.  "Seadh! 
Seadh!**  ara'  am  famhair.  **'Ni9,"  ara'  am  famhair,  «tha  eraobh 
ghiubhaa  ri  taobh  an  loch  ud  ahioa  agua  tlia  naad  pioghaid  "ha 
mulladL"  "  Na  h-uibhean  a  gheibh  thu  anna  an  nead,faumaidh  iad 
a  bhi  agamaa  gu  mo  oAatKi-Zoii,  gtadh;  cha  'n  fhUod  a  h-aon  a  bhith 
agkinta  no  bi  Ute,  agua  'a  a  còig  a  tha  *aan  nead."  Moch  'aa  mhad^ 
uinn,  db'f  halbh  mac  an  rìgli  far  an  robh  a  cliraobh,  'a  cha  robh  sin 
doilich  amaa  oirre.  Clia  robh  a  leith-bbraac  'sa  choill'  air  fad.  Blio 
'bono  gu  ruig  a  ceud  mheanglan,  còig  oeud  troidÌL  Bha  mac  an  rtgh 
h  dol  ceithir  thoimchloll  air  a  chraoibh.  Thkinig  iae  'bha  daonnan 
h  dòanamb  furtachd  dha :  "  Tha  thu  air  call  cniiceann  nan  lamb  *a 
nan  caa,  a  mbic  an  rkgb."  ''Ach  t>u^"  ars'  esan,  **cha  luaitha  shuaa 
na  ahios  ml"  "  Cha  'n  h'  ftilreachd  so,"  arsa  nighean  an  f  liambair. 
Shkth  i'  meur  an  ddigh  meur,  gua  an  d'  rlon  i  furadh  do  mime  an 
i)gli  gu  dol  auaa  do  nead  na  pioghaid.  'Nuair  a  blia  e  aig  an  nead, 
thubliairt  ise,  "  Dean  cabhag  a  nuaa  leis  na  h-uibiieam,  oir  tha  anail 
m'  athar  a'  loagadh  mo  dhroma."  Leia  a  diabliaig  a  bh'  air-aan,  db* 
fhkg  iae  Itidag  am  mullach  na  craoibhe.  ''Nis,"  ara'  iae,  "Uièid 
thu  dhachaidh  leia  na  h-uibliean  gu  loath,  agua  gheibh  tim  miae  ri 
pbòaadh  a  nodid  ma  dli'aitlmicheaa  tu  mi;  bitliidh  mia'  agua  mo 
dlia  phintliar  air  ar  n^eldeadli  anna  an  aon  truagan,  agua  air  ar 
dòanamli  coltacli  ri*  chtf iie  {  Acli  aeall  thus'  omiau  'uuair  a  tlieir  m* 
atluiir  'falbh  la  d'  mhnaoi,  a  mliic  an  i)gb ;  agua  chl  Urn  Ikiroli  gun 
lUdag."  Thug e  nah-uibhcan  do'n  f liambair.  « Seadh!  Seadh t" 
ara'  am  famhair,  **  bi'  dòanamh  deaa  chum  do  phòaadli."  'S  aun  an 
ain  a  bha  bhanaia,  *a  b'e  bhanaia  i,  famhairean  'a  daointf  uaiale,  't 
mac  ligb  na  Cathair  uaioe  'nam  meadhon.    Chaidh  am  pbsadh,  *a 


OATH  NAN  BUN.  4) 

thMiidi  an  dkmhsa,  *•  b*e  tin  an  damhsa.  Bha  tigh  an  f  hamhahr  air 
ehriCh  bho  *mhiillach  gu  *bhonn.  Ach  thkinlg  km  dol  a  InMht^  *a 
tIniVhairt  am  famhair,  •*  Tha  *n  t-km  dhoit  dol  a  laMhe,  a  mUo  ligli 
BA  oathair  thWrnain,  thoir  leat  do  bhaan  aa  am  meadhon  tin.**  Chvir 
Im  MAch  a  Ikimh  dheth  *n  robh  an  Ihdag  agui  nig  a  oiira  air  Ikimh. 
*  Oh*  amaia  tliu  gn  maitli  air  an  am  to  cnidoaclHl,  ach  clia  Veil  iloa 
Mflh  ooinnicli  vinn  thn  air  dòigh  oila^**  thubhairt  am  fiunliair.  Aeli 
a  IvidlM  chaidli  Ud.  "  A  nia,**  tliairt  iie;  <*cadal  dia  dean  thn,  air 
mm  bktaiehidh  tn ;  fenmaidli  ninn  teidieadh  gu  Inath,  oir  gim  teag- 
amh  narbliaidli  m*  athair  tlia.**  A  macli  gliabli  lad,  agna  air  an  loth 
dhnÌBB  a  bba  anna  an  atabuU,  diaidh  iad.  **  Dean  tocair  beagan,** 
■n*  ii«^  "agni  cluichidh  mtae  deaa  air  an  t-aeann  laodL*'  Loam  i 
•tigh,  agna  gheàrr  Ì  nbhall  'na  naoi  earannan,  *a  chair  i  dh  earrana 
dUth  aig  ceann  na  leapa,  agna  dh  earrann  aig  caaan  na  leapa;  dh 
•trrann  aig  an  doma-diadha,  agua  dh  aarann  aig  an  doraa  mhòr,  agna 
a  b-aoo  air  taobh  a  madi  an  tigha.  Dhfaitg  am  famhair,  agna 
ghkodh  e, "  *M  bheil  aibhie  *nur  cadaL**  **  Cba  *n  *eU  bthaat,**  ara* 
•■  nbhall  a  bha  aig  ceann  na  leapa.  An  eeaon  ghrda  gfaiaodh  a 
rllUaC^  "Cha  *n  *ei1  fathast,**  ara*  an  nbhall  a  bha  aig  caaan  na  laapa. 
Grda  an  d^gh  tin,  ghlaodh  e  rithitt,  •*Cha  *n  ^aO  fathaat,**  thnbhairt 
•a  nbhal  aig  dorus  a  chadha.  Ghlaodh  am  farohair  a  rithlat,  'a 
f  hraagair  an  ubhat  a  bha  aig  an  donu  mhòr.  **  Tha  aibh  a*  dol  ni*a 
Idda  nam,**  ara*  am  farohair.  "Cba  *n  *ail  fathaat,**  an'  an  nbhal  a 
blM  air  taobh  a  mach  an  domia.  "  Tha  tibh  a  taichadli,**  ara*  am 
CnBhair.  Laum  am  famhair  air  a  dtaftan,  agus  gn  mig  an  laabaidh 
cfaaldh  e;  ach  bha  i  gn  foar,  fha,  "  Tha  cnilbhaartan  mo  nighean 
fAn  a  llnichainn  riom,**  thubhairt  am  famhair.  Air  an  tbir  ghabh 
%*  Am  beul  an  latba,  thahrt  nighaan  an  fhamhair,  "Gn  *o 
rabh  anail  a  h-*athair  a  loagadh  a  droma.**  **CaÌr  do  Ihmh  gn 
loath,**  an*  iae,  "ann  an  duaia  na  loth  dhuinn,  agna  ga  ba  nl 
ghaibh  thn  innta  Ulg  *na  d*  dh^gh  a.**  "  Tha  bior  do  agitbaach  an 
ao,**  thnbhairt  aaan.  **  Tilg  aa  dc  dhaigh  a.**  Cha  luaitha  rinn  a  to, 
na  bim  flchead  m\le  do  ai^itheach  cho  tiugh  ann  *a  gnm  Im  ghann  do 
aaaa  dol  troimlia.  Tlikinig  am  famhoir  *na  dblan  *•  aiuda  *n  ooinneamh 
a  chian  *a  amhach  anna  an  tgitlieach  I !  **  Tha  cuilbbeartan  mo  nigliaan 
fAa  an  to  mar  an  ceudna,**  thnbhairt  am  famliair;  "ach  na  *m 
bkMlh  agamsa  mo  thuagh  mhòr  *t  mo  chore  dioille  an  to,  cha  l»* 
fhad*  a  bhithinn  a  dèanamh  rathad  troimha  to.**  Thill  a  dbach- 
aldh  air  ion  na  toaÌHh  mòira  *t  na  core  cboilla,  agna  gun  teagamh 
cha  robh  a  fad  a*  d^anamh  rathad  troi  "n  ngil  beach.  "Fhgaidh 
wA  "a  tnadh  *■  a  chore  dioilla  *n  ao,  gua  am  till  mi,**  ara*  aaan. 
"Ma  dh*  thaqab,  thuirt  faannag  a  bha  ann  an  eraobh,**  goididh 


44  WEST  HIGHLAND  TALHB. 

•time  iid.**  "Nl  tibh  liii  fbdlii,''  wnf  am  fiunhair,  **aeh  cuiridh 
miM  dhaduOdh  Ud."  Thill  a  agua  dh'  fhèff  a  iad  aig  an  tigb. 
Ann  an  teas  an  latba  mhothaich  ia  anall  a  h'athar  a  losgadh  a  droma. 
*  Cnir  do  mhear  ann  an  cluait  na  lotha,  agua  tilg  na  gbeibh  thn 
tnnte  aa  do  db^gh."  Fhnair  e  agealb  do  chlach  ghlaia  'a  tbflg  a  aa 
a  dbtfigb  L  Ann  am  prioba  na  abla,  bba  ficbead  mile  do  cbraaK 
mbòr  gblaa  air  laud  'a  air  birde  aa  an  dèigb.  Tbblnig  am  fiunbar 
*na  dbeann,  acb  aeadiad  air  a'  chreag  cba  robb  coroaa  dba  doL  "  "Sa 
cuilbbeartan  mo  nigbinn  foHn  rod  aa  cmaidli*  a  UiacluUr  riamb  riam." 
an*  am  fambair.  ''Acb  na  In  biodb  agamaa  mo  gbeamblag  'a 
mo  mbatag  mhòr,  cba  b'  fliada  a  bbitblnn  a  dèanamb  ratliad  rolah 
'n  cbralg  ao  coideadid."  BYbendar  tUlaadb  air  an  aon,  agua  b*a 
Mn  gille  agoltadb  nan  clacb.  Clia  robb  a  Cada  a  d^namb  ratbad 
troimb  'n  cbraag.  "  Fkgaidb  mi  an  acf  buinn  an  ao,  *a  cha  thill 
mi  tnillidb.**  ^  Ma  dh'  PHAOAa,"  an*  an  fheannag,  **goididb  ainn' 
iad."  "Tha  ain  'a  a  rogfaainn  agad;  cba  Veil  tiòm  tllleadb  ann.* 
Ann  am  brlateadb  na  fkire  thubhalrt  nigbean  ao  fliambabr,  "gu^ 
robb  i  motbachainn  anall  a  b-atbar  a  loagadb  a  droroa."  "  Seall  ann 
an  duaia  na  lotba,  a  mliic  an  rtgli,  air  neo  tba  alnn  callta."  Rinn  a 
ao^  agoa  *a  a  antroman  Ibn  utage  a  bba  'na  duaia  air  an  am  ao. 
**  Tllg  *ntk  d'  dh^fth  e,**  ana  nigbean  an  fbamhair.  Rlnn  a  ao^  agna 
bba  loch  uiage  ficbead  mile  air  tad  'a  air  laud  ^an  d^gb.  Thàinig 
am  flimhair  air  agbaldb,  acb  lela  an  aatar  a  bb*  aige,  bba  a  ann  am 
meadboln  an  loch,  agua  cbaldh  e  foldbe,  *a  cha  d'  elricb  e  nl*a  mb. 
Air  an  ath  latba,  bba  a  chuideachd  6g  air  tlgblnn  am  fradharc  tlgb 
aihar-aan.  *<Nla«''  an'  iae,  ^'tha  m'athair  bblte,  'a  cha  chulr  e 
dragh  tullUdb  òlm;  '*  Ach  mu  'n  d'tb^id  alnn  nl  'a  faide,"  an*  iae, 
^racb  thuaa  gu  tigb  t*athar,  agua  Inula  gu  'bhell  mo  lelibid-aa 
agad ;  acb  am  bonn  a  tha  agad  rl  *Uhebnamh,  na  lelg  le  dulne  na 
crèutalr  do  pbbgadb ;  olr  ma  nl  thu  aln,  cba  bhl  culmbn'  agad  gu 
*(!aca  tu  riamb  mi."  Chulr  gach  neach  mar  a  bha  tachalrt  air  fkUta 
ia  fùnn  air,  'a  thug  a  kltbne  d*a  atiialr  *a  d*a  mhhtbalr,  gun  eaan  a 
pbbgadb ;  acb  mar  a  bha  *n  tubaiat  'an  dbn,  bba  aean  mhial-cbb  do 
gballa  *ateach  *a  dh*  altbnldi  i  e,  *a  leum  i  auaa  ri  bbeul,  agua  na 
dh^gh  ain  dbi-cbuimbnich  e  ulghean  an  fhamhair.  Bba  Ìae  *na 
auldbe  alg  taobb  an  tobalr  mar  a  dh*  flikg  a  I,  ach  cha  robb  mac  an 
rtgb  a'  Ugblnn.  Ann  am  beul  na  b^ldhche,  atreap  I  auaa  ann  an 
craobb  do  dharacb  a  bba  rl  taobb  an  tobair.  Lutdb  i  ann  an 
gobliall  na  craoibba  fad  na  b'oldbcbe  aln.  Blui  Ugh  alg  graua* 
aiche  dlbtb  do  *n  lobar,  agua  mu  mbeadbon  lb  a*  mbireach,  dh* 
iarr  an  greuaalcb  air  a  mhnaol,  i  *dhol  alraon  deoch  dba  aa  an 
tobar.    'Nualr  a  ralnlg  bean  a  gbreuaalcbe  an  tobor,  'a  a  chunnalc  I 


OATH  NAN  lUN.  45 

ftdltts  1ÌM  ì4  M,  bha  uint  a  chraoibh,  air  laoDflnn  dhlae  gn  *id  b*6 
*fUlMs  f<Aii  a  bh'  ann  ft  cha  do  Bhaoil  leatba  gu  so  gu  *n  robh  i  00 
biiaghaX  thug  i  Ulgeil  do*n  chnman  a  bha  *iia  Ikimh,  *•  bhritt  i  rif 
m  talamh  9,  *•  thug  i  *n  tigh  oirre  gun  ehuioiiMg  gun  uisgtl 
'^OaÌt*  am  bhoil  an  t-iUig«^  a  bhaan,**  Umbhaiit  an  graitaloKe. 
''A   bhodaich    loibidich,  thuaraich,  gnn    mhaite^  dh*  fban   mi 
taflidh  *•  foda  *n  am  thrkill  nisga  *■  oonnaidh  agad.**    *'Hia  mi 
Mb  a  maolnaachadli,  a  bhaan,  gu'n  daach  thn  air  Uioila ;  ialbli 
a  nighaan,  gn  luath  '•  fkigh  daooli  do  d*  atbair.    Dh'  fhalbli 
aighaan,  agot  air  an  dòigh  ehendoa  thachair  dhi.     Cha  do 
laatlia  gn  to  gn  *n  robh  i  00  tiachdmhor,  *•  thug  i  *n  tigh 
olRi.    •'Nioa  an  deoeh,**  an*  a  h^thair.    •'A  phwdlaig  bhodaieh 
mtm  ÌKhg,  an  laoil  thn  gn  *bheil  miae  gn  bhi  *m  thràiil  nisga  agad.** 
ftaaoiMlth  an  gramaiehe  bochd  gn  *b  d*  thng  iad  ear  at  am  beaehd,  *a 
dh  *fhalbh  a  f6\n  do  'n  tobar.    Chnnnaic  a  failaat  na  gmagaiclia  tan 
tohar,  *•  dh*  ambalre  e  tuaa  do  *n  chraoibh  *•  falcear  am  boirionnach  bn 
bhràaglia  a  chnnnaic  a  riamlL    ''*S  corrach  do  ahnidhcadun  ach  *a 
maiitaoh  do  ghnUis,**  thnbliairt  an  greniaiche.     '*  Thig  a  nnaa  oir, 
thn  fcnm  dhnit,  car  iiine  ghehrr  *nam  thigh-aa.**   Thnig  an  grenaaicha 
gn*m  b*a  ao  am  faileaa  a  chuir  a  chuideachdaan  air  bhoiia.    Thug  an 
granaalch  i  gn  thigh  *a  thabliairt  e  ritlie^  **  nach  rol>h  aiga-tan  ach 
bothan  boclid,  ach  gn  *m  faigheadh  i  a  cnid  dhe  na  bh*  ann.**    An 
caaan  latha  na  dhk  *na  dhtfigh  ao,  thàinig  trihir  fhleaagach  naaal  gn 
tigh  a  glirenaaicbe,  airaon  br^gan  a  dlièanamh  dlioibh,  *a  an  righ  air 
tlghÌBB  dbacbaidb,  agna  a  *dol  a  phòaadh.    Ach  ahil  do  "n  d*  thng 
sa  llaaagaich,  chnnnaic  iad  nigliaan  an  fhamhair,  *a  ma  chnnnaic^ 
cha  "B  fhae  iad  riamh  ttf  00  bòidhaach  ritba.    ''*Sann  agad  atha  "B 
irighaan  bhòkihaach  an  ao,**  thnbbairt  na  ileaagaich  ria  a  ghranaaieha. 
•^  Aeh  cha  *n  e  mo  nighaan-Mt  th*  ann.**    •«  Nhitor  araa  fear  dhiabh, 
"hhairinn  Mn  cabd  punnd  air  aon  a  poaadlL**    Thubhairt  an  dithia 
aUa  a  laitliid  chendna.    Thubhairt  an  grenaaidia  bochd,  "nach  robh 
gBOtbvch  aige-aan  ri  a  dh^aoamh  ritlia.*  "  Adi,**  ara'  iadaan,  **  Ikrraid 
thaaa  dhiUi  *n  nochd,  agna  leig  floa  thngainna  *mhiraacli.*'    Nnair 
a  dh*  fhalbh  na  h*-aaialean,  dh'  fharraid  i  do*n  ghrenaaÌclM^  "gn  dtf 
and  a  bha  iad  ag  radb  mn  *ra  dheibbinnaa  7  "  Dh*  innia  an  grenaaicha 
dhith.    "  Falbh  *nan  dtfigh,**  ara*  iae,  "pòaaidh  mi  fear  aca  a  nochd 
Ma,  'a  thngadh  a  leia  a  aporan  airgid.**    Dh*  fhalbh  an  grenaaiclia 
*BaB  d^h,  *a  dh*  innia  a  *n  ain  fein.  Thiil  aTn  t-bganach.  Thng  a  cavd 
pvaad  do  *n  ghrenaaiche,  air-aon  todiar.    "  Cliaidb  i  a  lnidlM»  agna  an 
aair  a  bha  aodach  an  ògtnaich  dheth,  dh*  iarr  i  air  dcoch  niage  aa  a 
chòni  a  bha  air  a  bhòrd  air  taobh  thail  an  t-aaòmair ;  dh'  fhalbh  e^ 
■ch  aa  a*  ain  cha  d*  thigeadh  a  fad  na  h*-okihcha,  ia  graim  aig  air  ai| 


40  WUT  HIGHLAND  TALB& 

i-toithaftch  niflge.**    Ogkich  tha.    ThnbhAÌrt  iie,  **  cainoii  nach  dig 
thu  a  laidbe,"  ach  at  a*  to  cha  diongadb  e,  gus  an  robh  an  latha  gaal 
am  mkireacfa  ann.    Thainig  an  greoaaidie  gn  doma  an  t-aeòmalr, 
agna  dh*  iarr  i  air,   **Mn  ilaodaira  ballaich  tin  a  thabhairt  air 
ftlbh.**    Dh*  fhalbh  an  •uiriche  so,  *•  thug  *e  'n  Ugh  air,  ach  cha 
do  dh*  fatnit  e  mar  dh*  ^rìch  dha  do  "n  dithis  eile.   Air  an  ath  oidhche, 
thhinig  an  dama  fleasgach,  agot  air  an  doigh  chendna  nuair  a 
chaidh  i  a  Inidha,  ^SeaH,"  thuirt  iae,  ''am  bheil  an  crann  air  an 
dorus.*'    Air  a  chrann  gliabh  a  Uunlian  gn^im,  agus  aa  a'  tin  dia  d' 
thigeadh  e  ftul  na  h-oidbcha,  aa  a'  so  cha  d'  thigeadh  e  gu  latlu  gaal 
am  mairaach.    Dh*  flulbh  e  fo  aprochd  ia  nkire.    Coma  oodhia,cha 
dlnnia  e,  mar  thachair,  do  'o  fhleaagach  eile,  agua  air  an  treaa  oidhcha, 
thainig  am  fear  eile,  agua  mar  a  thachair  do  *n  dithia  eile  thachair  dha ; 
bha  caa  air  an  leabaidh  *a  caa  eile  air  an  nrlar,  cha  d*thigeadh  'a  cha 
rachadh  e^  ach,  air  an  doigh  ao  bha  e  fad  na  hNiidhche.    Am  mhireach 
thug  6  'bhuion  aa,  *a  cha  *n  fhacaa  ff  aealltainn  'na  dh^gh.    **  Nia," 
araa  'n  nighean  ria  a  ghreuaaiche,  **  'a  leataa  an  aporan  6ir,  cha  *n'eii 
fenm  agam-aa  air,  *a  feàird  thua'  e^  agua  cha  mliio«*de  mia*  e,  airaon  do 
chaoimhneia  dhomh."     Bha  na  brògan  ulUroh  aig  a  ghreuaaiche^ 
agua  air  an  laUia  ain  ffin,  blui  an  r)gli  gu  pòaadh.    ISIm  *n  greuaaicha 
dol  do  'n  chaiateal  le  brògan  nan  òganacli,  'a  thubbairt  an  nighean 
ria  a  ghreuaaiche,  "  bu  mhaith  leam  aealladb  fhaicinn  dhe  mac  an 
hgh,  mu  'm  pòaadh  e."    **  Thig  leamaa,**  ara*  an  gr«uaaiche,  **  tha  mi 
mion  eblach  air  aelrbheisich  a'  chai«teail,  agua  gbeibh  thu  aealladh 
air  mac  an  righ  'a  na  cuideachd  uile."    Agua  a  nuair  a  cbunnaic  na 
h-uaialean  am  boireannach  bòidheach  a  bha  'n  ao,  thug  iad  i  do 
aheòmar  na  bainnae,  agua  lion  iad  gloinne  fion  did.    'Nuair  a  bha 
i'  dol  a  dh*  61  na  bha  aa  ghloinne,  chaidh  laaair  auaa  aiate,  agua 
lenm  caiman  òir  'a  caiman   airgid  aa  a'  ghloinne.    filui  iad  ag 
itealalch  mu  'n  cuairt,  *nuair  a  tliuit  tri  glirkinnean  eòma  air  an 
urlar.     Leum  an  caiman  airgiod,  agua  ithear  aud.    Thubbairt  an 
caiman  òhr  ria,  na'm  biudh  cuimhn'  agad  *nuair  a  chairt  mi  'm 
bàthaich,  CHA  'n  'ithkadh    tu   biud   oun   cuuid   a   thoibt 
Dhomh8'a«    a  rithiat  thuit  tri  grhinnean  eòrn*  eile,  'a  leum  an  caiman 
airgiod  agua  ithear  aiud  mar  an  ceudna.    *'  Na'm  bitheadh  cuimhn' 
agad  'nuair  a  thubh  mi  'm  bàthaich  cha  'n  itiisadh  tu  aiUD,  qun 
MO  OHUiD  A  THoiRT  DHOMHaA,"  ara*  an  caiman  ciir.    Tuitear  tri 
ghrh  innean  eile,  a  leum  an  caiman  airgiod,  agua  ithenr  aiud  cuideachd. 
"  Na  'm  biodh  cuimhn*  agad  'nuair  a  chreach  mi  nead  na  pioghaid, 

CHA  VlTllKAUH  TU  tlUD  QVM  MO  CHUII»  A  THOIBr  I>UOMH8A,"  ara* 

an  caiman  òlr.     **  ChaiU  mi  'n  lUdag  'gad*  thabhairt  a  nuai*,  agua 
tha  i  dhith  orm  fathaat"    Chuimhnich  mac  an  righ,  'a  dh*  aithnich 


OATH  NAH  BUN.  47 

6  eo  a  th*  aige.  Lmid  a  fiir  an  robh  I,  '•  phòg  d  bho  UUmh  gu  I 
baol,  agna  a  noafar  a  thkinig  an  tagairt» pbòa  iad  an  dama  b-aair  II 
Aga»  dh*  f  bag  miiT  an  lin  iad. 

Hbctob  Ubquhait. 

3.  There  ie  anoiber  Tereion  of  tbie  tale  current  in  lalaj.  It 
waa  taken  down  from  tbe  recitation  of  Ann  Darrocb  bjr  Hector 
Maclean.  It  it  caUed  tbe  "  Widow'a  Son."  He  goea  to  aeek 
bit  fortune,  and  comet  to  a  giant*t  bonte,  wbere  be  engagea 
bimaelf  aa  a  tenrant  for  a  peck  of  gold  and  a  peck  of  tilrer.  He 
ia  tent  firtt  to  cleante  tbe  toTen  bjret  tbat  bave  noTer  been 
cleanaed  for  tcTen  yean.  AU  be  pnta  oat  at  one  door  cornea  in 
at  tbe  otber.  Tbe  giant't  dangbter  comet;  be  promitet  to 
marry  ber,  and  tbe  tayt,  '*  Qatlier,  ob  thoTol,  and  pat  oat,  oh 
grape,**  and  tbe  toolt  work  of  tbemteWee,  and  clear  tbe  bjrea.  Next 
he  baa  to  thatch  the  byret  with  featbera,  no  qnillt  to  be  npwarda. 
He  gett  onlj  one  feather,  and  the  giant*t  dangbter  taket  three 
graint  of  barlej,  and  throwa  them  on  tbe  roof.  The  birda  of 
tbe  air  gather,  and  thatch  tbe  bjret  in  a  minute.  Next  day  be 
bat  to  catch  the  tteed  tbat  bed  never  aeen  a  blink  of  earth  or  air. 
Tbe  girl  giret  him  a  little  ruttj  bridle,  and  the  tteed  comee  and 
puta  her  bead  into  it.  She  maket  tix  little  cakea,  which  aba 
placet  at  tbe  fire,  the  foot  water,  the  door  of  tbe  chamber,  the 
aide  of  tbe  bed,  and  tbe  kitchen  door,  and  the/  moont  tbe 
tteed  and  ride  off.  The  giant  liea  down  and  callt  to  hit 
daughter.  The  cakee  antwer,  till  there  are  none  left  to  reply. 
Then  he  riaea,  takee  hit  clotbet,  hit  boott,  and  bia  tword  of 
light ;  he  maket  teven  milet  at  each  step ;  he  aeet  teven  milea 
bj  tbe  light  of  the  tword — he  followt ;  thej  bear  him  coming ;  tbe 
girl  givee  the  widow's  ton  a  golden  apple,  and  tellt  him  to  throw 
it  at  a  mole  on  her  father,  where  alone  he  is  Tulnerable ;  he  feara 
that  be  will  miss  to  imall  a  mark,  to  the  throwt  it  hertelf,  and 
tbe  giant  is  dead  in  an  instant. 

They  reach  a  big  town.  He  it  told  to  kiit  nothing,  or  ha 
win  forget  the  girl  and  his  promise.  A  big  dog  comes  to  meet 
him,  and  puta  his  paws  on  his  shoulder  and  kiteet  him.  He 
takea  aerrice  with  the  king,  and  at  last  be  ia  to  be  married 
to  the  king't  dnnghter. 

She  takea  tenrice  with  a  tmith,  ditguited  aa  a  man,  and 


48  WEST  HIOHL^ND  TALK. 

**  oomM  on  fiunoiitlj.'*  The  fmiUi*i  cUuigliter  IkDt  in  lore  wkh 
her,  and  wanU  to  mmny  her.  She  teOa,  it  leat,  that  ihe  la  a  girl 
in  aearch  of  her  own  loTer.  On  a  daj  of  daja  the  amith  and  hia 
daoghter  and  hia  lenrant  are  inTÌted  to  the  wedding  of  the 
widow'a  aon  with  the  king's  davghter.  Thej  go,  and  the  giant'a 
daoghter  aeta  a  golden  cock  and  a  atlver  hen  on  the  hoard  before 
the  bridegroom.  She  takea  a  grain  of  barlej  from  her  pocket 
and  thfowa  it  before  them.  The  oock  pecka  the  hen  and  eata  the 
barley ;  and  the  hen  taye,  **  Gog,  Qog,  if  thoa  hadat  mind  when 
I  eleanaed  the  aeTcn  byrea  for  thee,  then  wonkUt  not  do  that  to 
me.*'  She  doea  thia  three  timea,  and  the  birds  remind  him  of 
what  haa  been  done ;  then  he  knowa'  her,  leape  over  the  board, 
oatchea  her  hj  the  arm,  leavea  the  king'a  daughter,  and  marriea 
her. 

8.  There  ia  another  Terdoo  cnrrent  at  Inferaiy,  repeated  to 
me  by  a  atable  boj  who  waa  then  employed  at  the  ferry  of  St. 
Katharinea,  and  who  repeated  it  in  Qaelic  while  rowing  the  boat 
to  InTerary.  It  began  thoa : — 1  will  toll  yon  a  atory  abont  the 
wren.  There  waa  once  a  farmer  who  waa  seeking  a  senrant, 
and  the  wren  met  him,  and  he  aaid,  "  What  art  thou  aeeking 
for  ? ''  '*  I  am  seeking  a  servant,"  said  the  farmer.  **  Wilt  then 
take  me?"  aaid  the  wren.  **Thee,  thoa  poor  little  creature ; 
what  good  wouldst  thou  do?"  '*Try  thou  me,"  said  the  wren. 
So  he  engaged  him,  and  the  first  work  he  set  him  to  waa  threah- 
ing  in  the  bam.  The  wren  threshed  (what  did  he  thresh  with  ? 
— a  flail  to  be  sure),  and  he  knocked  off  one  grain.  A  mouse  came 
ont  and  ahe  eata  that.  *'  I  Ml  praise  thee,  and  don't  do  Uiat 
again,"  said  the  wren.  He  struck  again,  and  he  knocked  off  two 
grains.  Out  came  the  moose  and  she  eata  that.  80  they  arranged 
a  contest  that  they  might  know  which  waa  strongest,  and 
there  was  neither  mouse  nor  rat  on  earth  that  did  not  gather, 
nor  waa  there  bird  under  heaTon  that  did  not  come  to  the  battle. 
The  aon  of  a  gentleman  heard  of  the  fight,  and  he  came  also,  but 
he  slept  before  it  was  o?er,  and  when  he  awoke  there  waa  neither 
**  mouse  nor  rat  to  be  seen ;  there  waa  but  one  great  black  raven." 
The  raven  and  the  man  agree  to  travel  together,  and  they  come 
to  an  inn.  The  gentleman  g^s  in,  but  the  raven  is  sent  to  the 
stable,  because  the  porters  and  waiters  object  to  the  like  of  a 


THB  BATTLI  OF  THl  BIB08.  49 

nren.  Here  be  picks  out  ell  tlie  honee'  eyee,  and  in  tbe 
morning  there  it  a  dittorbance.  The  gentleman  paya  and  iooldi, 
and  thej  go  to  another  inn,  where  the  raren  is  sent  to  the  bjre, 
and  pioks  out  all  the  oows'  ejee.  Then  thej  part.  The  ra?en 
takes  ont  a  book,  and  gives  it  to  his  companion  with  a  warning 
not  to  open  it  till  he  gets  home  to  his  lather's  house.  He  breaks 
the  charge,  looks,  and  finds  himself  in  a  giant*s  house.  There  he 
tskes  senrice,  and  is  sent  to  clean  the  bjre.  It  had  seven  doors, 
it  had  not  been  cleaned  for  seven  jears,  and  all  that  he  put  ont 
at  one  door  came  in  at  the  other.  Then  came  the  giant's  red- 
haired  daughter,  and  said,  "  If  thou  wilt  marrj  me  I  will  help 
thee.**  He  consents ;  and  she  sets  all  the  grapes  and  forks 
about  the  place  to  work  of  themselves,  and  the  bjre  is  cleansed. 
Thei^e  giant  sets  him  to  thatch  the  bjre  with  feathers,  and 
everj  nlther  he  put  on  the  wind  blew  awaj.  Then  came  tba 
giant's  girl,  and  the  promise  was  repeated  ;  and  she  plajed  a 
whistle  that  she  had,  and  he  laid  his  head  in  her  lap,  and  ever/ 
bird  there  was  came,  and  thej  thatched  the  bjre. 

Then  tbe  giant  sent  him  to  the  hill  to  fetch  the  graj  horse 
that  was  seven  jears  old ;  and  she  told  him  that  he  would  meet 
two  black  dogs,  and  she  gare  him  a  cake  of  tallow  and  half  a 
cheese,  and  a  tether ;  and  she  said  that  the  dogs  and  the  horse 
would  kill  him  unless  he  gave  the  dogs  the  food,  and  put  the 
tether  on  the  horse.  When  the  dogs  ran  at  him,  he  put  the 
tallow  in  the  mouth  of  one,  and  tbe  cheese  in  tbe  throat  of  the 
other ;  and  when  the  horse  came  down  the  hill  to  kill  him  with 
his  mouth  open,  he  put  the  tether  in  his  mouth  and  he  followed 
him  qoietlj  home.  **  Now,*'  said  the,  **  we  will  be  off.'*  60  thej 
mounted  and  rode  awaj,  but  first  the  took  four  apples,  three  she 
placed  about  the  house,  which  tpoke  as  in  the  other  tales,  the 
fourth  she  took  with  her.  When  the  last  of  the  apples  had 
spoken,  tbe  giant  rose  and  foUowed.  Then  the  girl  felt  her 
father's  breath  on  her  back,  and  said,  "  Search  in  the  horse's 
ear."  And  he  found  a  twig.  '*  Throw  it  behind  you,"  said  she; 
and  he  threw  it,  and  it  became  the  biggest  wood  that  ever  was. 
The  giant  came,  and  returned  for  his  '*  big  axe  and  his  little  axe,** 
and  he  hewed  his  way  through ;  and  the  red-haired  girl  said 
that  she  felt  her  father's  breath.  <*  Now,"  said  she  to  the  king's 
ton  (here  the  narrator  remembered  that  he  was  a  prince  instead 


42  WEST  HIOHLANB  TALES. 

a  choU  roi*n  ghrein.  Qhlae  e  a  bhogha  'a  a  bhalg-iaighead  a  mharbh- 
adh  nan  èun.  Thug  a  *m  monadb  air,  acb  ma  tbug,  eba  robb  na  b- 
eòin  cho  furasda  ri  *m  fitotainn.  Bba  e  a  rnitb  *nan  d^gb,  gas  an 
robb  ain  (klltu  'ga  *dbalUdb.  Ma  mbeadbon-la  oo  'thigeadb  ach 
nigbean  an  fbamhair.  <*Tba  tbu  ga'd*  pbianadb,  a  mbic  an  ligb,** 
an*  ÌM.  *<Tba  mi,"  tbabbairt  esan,  *'cha  do  thait  acb  an  da  Ion- 
dobb  so,  aguB  iad  air  aon  datb.**  **  Tbig  a  nail,  'i  leig  do  sgioa  air  a 
cbnocAn  bhòidbeacb  so,"  ana  nigbean  an  f  liamliair.  "  *S  mi  tlia  toil* 
•acb,"  tbubliairt  esan.  Smaoinich  •  ga  n  cobbaireadb  i  air  air  an 
bm  so  cuideacbd.  Shuldb  e  sioa  Ibimb  ritbs^  *s  cba  b*f  bad*  a  bba  o  'n 
sin  gus  an  do  thait  e  *na  cbadal ;  agus  a  nuair  a  dhUisg  e,  bba  nigb- 
aan  an  f  bambair  air  fulbb.  Smaoinicb  e  tilleadh  than  an  tighs^  *a 
fiioear  am  batbaich  tbghte  leis  na  b-itean.  'Naair  a  tbkinig  am 
liunbahr  dhachaidb  thubhairt  e,  *<Tbnbh  tbu  *m  batbaich,  a  mbic  an 
i^b.**  «Thubb  mi,**  an'  esan.  "Thubb  caid-eiginn  i,**  an*  am 
fkmhair.  "Cba  do  thnbh  thaaa  i,**  araa  mac  an  rigb.  *'Seadb! 
Seadbl**  an'  am  fambair.  '"Nia,**  an*  am  famhalr,  "tha  craobb 
gbinbbas  ri  taobb  an  loch  ud  shies  agus  tha  nead  piogbaid  "na 
mallach.**  "  Na  h-aibhean  a  gbdbb  tbu  anns  an  nead,fearoaidh  iad 
a  blii  agamsa  gu  mo  ehmid-Um,  ffttidh;  cba  *n  fhbod  a  b-aon  a  bhith 
agbinte  no  briste,  agus  *s  •  còig  a  tha  *san  nead.**  Hocb  'sa  mhad- 
uinn,  db'f  halbh  mac  an  rìgh  far  an  robb  a  cliraobb,  *s  cba  robb  ain 
dailicb  amas  oirre.  Clia  robb  a  leith-bhreao  *sa  cbdU'  air  fad.  Bho 
*bonn  gu  ruig  a  oeud  mbeanglan,  còig  oeud  troidh.  Bba  mac  an  i)gb 
b  dot  ceithir  thoÌDìchioll  air  a  cliraoibh.  Tbàinig  iae  'bha  daonnan 
à  dòanamb  furtachd  dha :  **  Tha  tbu  air  call  craiceann  nan  Ibmb  *s 
nan  cas,  a  mbic  an  rkgh.'*  "  Acb  tha,'*  an*  esan,  *'  cba  luaitbe  shuas 
na  shioe  mi."  ''Ctia  *n  b*  ftiireachd  ao,"  araa  nigbean  an  f  bambair. 
Sbktb  i*  meur  an  di^igh  meur,  gua  an  d'  rinn  i  furadh  do  mluic  an 
i)gh  gu  dol  auaa  do  nead  lui  piogliaid.  *Nualr  a  bha  e  aig  an  nead, 
tbubliairt  iae,  **  Dean  cabhag  a  nuaa  leb  na  h-uibheam,  oir  tha  anail 
m*  athar  a*  loagadb  nio  dhroma.'*  Leb  a  chabhaig  a  bh'  air-aan,  db* 
f  hag  iae  Ibdag  am  muUach  na  craoibhe.  **  Nia,"  an'  iae,  **  thèid 
tbu  dhachaidh  leia  na  h-uibhean  gu  luatli,  agua  ghelbh  tha  miae  ri 
pbòaadh  a  nochd  ma  dh'aitlmicheaa  tu  mi;  bithidh  mia'  agua  mo 
dha  phintbar  air  ar  n-eldeadh  anna  an  aon  truagan,  agua  air  ar 
d^namh  coltach  ri*  cbtfile ;  Ach  aeall  thua*  ormaa  'nuair  a  tlieir  ni* 
athair  'falbh  le  d*  mhnaoi,  a  nihlcan  i)gh;  agua  cbl  thu  Ibimh  gun 
Ibdag.'*  Thug  e  nah-uibhcan  do*n  f  bambair.  «Seadhl  Seadht** 
an*  am  famhalr,  **  bi*  dòanamb  deaa  chum  do  phbaadh."  'S  ann  an 
ain  a  bha  bbanaia,  'a  b'e  bluwaia  i,  fambairean  'a  daoin^  uaiale,  'a 
mac  rlgb  na  Catbair  uaine  'nam  meadhon.    Chaidh  am  pòsadh,  'a 


OATH  NAN  BUN.  4) 

thMiidi  an  dkmhsa,  *•  b*e  »in  an  damhsa.  Bha  tigh  an  f  homholr  air 
ehriCh  Uio  ^mhulUch  gn  *bhonn.  Ach  thkinlg  km  dol  a  loidht^  *8 
tIniVhairt  am  famhalr,  **  Tha  *n  t-km  dhvit  dol  a  laldhe,  a  mUo  righ 
BA  QOtliair  thWmain,  thoir  leat  do  bhaon  ai  am  meodbon  tin.**  Chair 
Im  Mteh  a  Ikimh  dheth  *n  robh  an  ihdag  agot  mg  e  oirra  air  Iklmh. 
*  Oh*  amaif  tliu  gn  maith  air  an  am  to  cnideaclHl,  ach  dia  Veil  iloa 
■aeh  ooinnich  vinn  thn  air  dòigh  aila,**  thubhairt  am  fiunhair.  Ach 
a  hridha  cliaidh  Ud.  •'Anii,'' thoirtiaa;  ««cadal  eha  dean  thn,  air 
BOO  bhtalcliidh  tn ;  feamoidh  iinn  toieliaadh  gu  luath,  oir  gun  teag- 
mh  narbhaidh  m*  atlioir  tho.**  A  mach  ghabh  iod,  agna  air  an  loth 
dhnhiB  a  bba  anna  an  ttabuU,  chaidh  iad.  **  D^on  tocair  beagon,** 
■n*  Ìi^  "agos  claichidh  mioa  cleaa  air  an  t-taann  laoch.**  Lonm  i 
•tigh,  agos  ghehrr  Ì  nbhall  'na  naoi  aaronnan,  *a  chnir  i  da  earronn 
dUth  tig  ceann  na  leapa,  agna  dh  earrann  aig  coion  na  leap*;  da 
•trmnn  aig  an  doms-chadha,  agua  dh  earann  aig  an  doma  mhbr,  agos 
a  h-aoo  air  taobh  a  mach  an  tigba.  Dhfaifg  am  fiunhair,  agos 
gUaodh  e,  "^M  bheii  libbie  *nur  cadaL"  **  Cha  *n  'aU  bthaat,**  ara* 
tm  nbhall  a  bha  aig  ceann  na  leapo.  An  eeoon  ghraia  gblaodh  a 
rilhÌaC^ "  Cha  *n  *ei1  fathast,**  an*  an  nbhall  a  bha  aig  caaan  na  laapa. 
Giaia  an  d^gh  tin,  ghlaodh  a  rithitt,  «'Cba  *n  *aU  fothaat,**  thnbbairt 
aa  obhal  aig  dorui  a  chadho.  Glilaodh  am  faroliair  a  rithiat,  'a 
f  hraagair  an  ubhal  a  bha  aig  an  doma  mhòr.  **  Tha  aibh  a'  dol  ni*a 
fidda  nam,**  ara*  am  farohair.  "Cha  *n  *ail  fathaat,**  ora*  an  nbhol  a 
bha  air  laobh  a  mach  an  domia.  "Tha  tibh  a  taichodh,**  an*  am 
Cnnhair.  Laum  am  famhair  air  a  dtoMn,  agus  gu  mig  an  laabaidh 
chaidh  a;  ach  bha  i  gn  fnar,  fht,  "  Tha  cniibhaartan  mo  olgliaaB 
fAn  a  llnichainn  riom,**  thabhairt  am  famhair.  Air  an  tbir  ghabh 
%*  Am  heal  an  latha,  tltairt  nÌgÌMan  an  fhomhoir,  "Gn  *b 
labh  aaail  a  h-*athair  a  loagadb  a  droma.**  "Coir  do  Ihmh  gn 
huUh,**  ara*  iae,  "ann  an  claaia  na  loth  dhainn,  agos  ga  ba  b1 
ghaibh  thu  innta  Ulg  *na  d*  dh^gh  a.**  "  Tha  bior  do  sgitbaach  an 
•o,**  thabhairt  aaan.  **  Tilg  aa  dc  dhaigh  a.**  Cha  luaitha  rinn  a  io, 
na  bha  flchend  m\le  do  tftitheach  clio  tiugh  ann  *a  gam  Im  ghann  do 
Btaa  dol  troimlia.  Thkinig  am  famhoir  *na  dhian  *t  aioda  *n  eoinnaamh 
a  chian  *•  amhach  anni  an  tgitheach !  I  "  Tha  cuilbbaortan  mo  nigliaan 
fiAn  an  to  mar  an  ceudna,**  thitbhairt  am  fiimliair;  "ach  na  *m 
bkMlh  agamn  mo  thaagh  mhòr  *a  mo  chore  choilla  an  ao,  cha  i»* 
fhad*  a  bhithinn  a  d^anamh  rathad  troimha  to.**  Thill  a  dbach- 
aldh  air  ion  na  taaidh  mòira  *t  na  core  choilla,  agna  gnn  tragamh 
cha  robh  a  fud  a*  d^anamh  rathad  troi  "n  Rgit  beach.  "Fbgaidh 
wA  *n  toadh  *■  a  cliore  dioilla  *n  so,  gui  am  till  mi,**  ara*  aaan. 
"Ma  dh*  thaqab,  thoirt  faannag  a  bha  ann  an  eroobh,**  goididh 


44  WB8T  HIOHLANB  TALHB. 

tinoe  iid.**  '*NI  tibh  liii  fbdln,"  wnf  am  fainhtir,  **aeh  cuiridh 
miM  dbaduddb  Ud."  Thill  a  agua  dh'  mkg  a  iad  aig  an  tigh. 
Ann  an  teaa  an  latba  mhothalch  ia  anail  a  h*athar  a  losgadh  a  droma. 
*  Coir  do  mhenr  ann  an  duala  na  lotha,  agua  tilg  na  gbelth  tha 
Innte  aa  do  dh^gh."  Fhnair  e  agealb  do  chUch  ghlaia  'a  thilg  a  aa 
a  dhtfigh  L  Ann  am  prioba  na  aula,  bha  fichead  mila  do  autt^ 
mhòr  ghlaa  air  lend  'a  air  àirde  aa  an  dèigh.  Thainig  am  liunhar 
'na  dbeann,  ach  aaachad  air  a'  chreag  cha  robh  comaa  dha  doL  **  '8e 
euilbhaartan  mo  nigUinn  ftTin  rod  aa  croaidli'  a  tliadialr  riamh  riaro," 
ara^  am  famhair.  '*Ach  na  In  biodh  agamaa  mo  gbeamhiag  'a 
mo  mhatag  mliòr,  cha  b'  fliada  a  bbitbinn  a  dèanamh  ratliad  roimh 
'n  chraig  ao  coideachd.**  BYhendar  tilleadh  air  an  aon,  agua  b'a 
tAn  gille  agoltadh  nan  clach.  Cba  robh  e  bda  a  d^namh  rathad 
troimh  'n  chraag.  **  Fkgaidh  mi  an  acf  huinn  an  ao,  'a  oha  thill 
ml  tnillidh.**  ^  Ma  dh'  PHAOAa,"  ara*  an  fheannag,  **goididh  ainn' 
iad."  "Tha  ain  'a  a  roghainn  agad;  cba  'n'eil  tiòm  tilleadh  ann." 
Ann  am  briataadh  na  fkira  thubhairt  nighean  an  fhamhair,  "gu^ 
robh  i  mothachainn  anail  a  li-athar  a  loagadh  a  droma."  "  Saall  ann 
an  duaia  na  loiha,  a  mliic  an  rigli,  air  neo  tlia  ainn  cailta."  Rinn  e 
ao^  agua  'a  a  antroman  Ikn  uiaga  a  bha  'na  duaia  air  an  am  ao. 
**  Tllg  *ntk  d'  dh^fth  e,"  araa  nighean  an  fhamhair.  Rinn  a  ao,  agua 
bha  loch  uiage  fichead  mile  air  tad  'a  air  laud  ^an  dtfiglu  Thàinig 
am  flimhair  air  agbaidh,  ach  leia  an  aatar  a  bb*  alga,  bha  a  ann  am 
meadhoin  an  loch,  agua  chaidh  e  foidhe,  'a  cha  d*  ^irich  a  ni'a  mo. 
Air  an  ath  latha,  bha  a  chuideachd  òg  air  ti^hinn  am  fradharo  tigh 
aihar-aan.  ^'Nia,"  ara*  iae,  *'tha  m'athair  bhite,  'a  cha  chnir  e 
dragh  tuillidh  òim;  '*  Ach  mu  "n  d'th^id  ainn  ni  'a  faide,"  ara*  iae, 
^rach  thuaa  gn  tigh  t'atliar,  agua  innia  gu  'bheil  mo  leithld-aa 
agad ;  ach  am  bonn  a  tha  agad  ri  'Uheànamh,  na  leig  le  duine  na 
crèutair  do  pbbgadh ;  oir  ma  ni  thu  ain,  cha  bhi  cuimbu'  agad  gu 
*faca  ttt  riamh  mi."  Chuir  gach  neach  mar  a  bha  tachairt  air  fkilta 
ia  fùran  air,  'a  thug  e  kithne  d*a  atiiair  'a  d'a  mbhthair,  gun  eaan  a 
phògadh ;  ach  mar  a  bha  *n  tnbaiat  *an  dbn,  bha  aean  mhial-chii  do 
ghalla  'ataach  *a  dh*  aithnich  i  e,  *a  leum  i  auaa  ri  bheul,  agua  na 
dhtfigh  ain  dhi-chaimhnich  e  nighean  an  fhamhair.  Bha  Ìaa  *na 
auidha  aig  taobh  an  tobair  mar  a  dh'  fhkg  a  i,  ach  cha  robh  mac  an 
rtgh  a*  Ughinn.  Ann  am  beul  na  h^idhche,  atreap  i  auaa  ann  an 
craobh  do  dharach  a  bha  ri  taobh  an  tobair.  Luidh  i  ann  an 
gobball  na  craoikbha  hd  na  h*oidliche  ain.  Blui  Ugh  aig  graua* 
alche  dlUth  do  *n  tobar,  agua  mu  mhaadhon  lb  a*  mbireach,  dh* 
iarr  an  grenaaich  air  a  mhnaoi,  i  *dhol  airaon  deoch  dha  aa  an 
tobar.    'Nuair  a  rainig  bean  a  ghreuaaiche  an  tobor,  'a  a  chunnaic  i 


OATH  NAK  lUN.  45 

fkflcM  HA  ì4m  bha  uint  a  cbraoibh,  air  laoOalnn  dhlae  fit  *id  b'a 
*fkileai  f(fiii  a  bh'  ann  ft  cha  do  shaoil  leatba  ga  so  gu  *ii  robh  i  00 
bièagbaX  thug  i  Ulgeil  do'n  chnman  a  bha  *iia  lidinh,  '§  bhritt  i  rif 
•a  talamh  %  '•  thug  i  *n  tigh  oirre  gun  ehuionMg  gun  uisgal 
*Gait*  am  bbtil  an  t-niige,  a  bbean,**  tbnbhaiit  an  grensatehe. 
"A   bhodaich    loibidich,  ihuaraicli,  gnn    mhaiao^  dh*  fban   mi 
tailidh  *i  fida  *n  am  thrkUl  nisga  *■  oonnaidh  agad.**    «"nia  mi 
fdin  a  maolnaachadh,  a  bhaan,  ga*n  daach  thu  air  blioile ;  ialbli 
thnaa  a  nighaan,  gn  loath  *•  faigh  deoch  do  d*  atbair.    Dh*  fhalbh 
a  nighaaa,  agot  air  an  dòigh  oiiendoa   tbacludr  dhi.     Clia  do 
ihMÌl  laatlia  gv  to  gu  *n  robh  i  co  tiachdmhor,  *a  thng  i  *n  tigh 
oirro.    •'Nioa  an  deoch/*  an*  a  h^thair.    •'A  phaallaig  bhodaich 
nam  brbg,  an  aaoil  thn  gu  *bliaQ  miae  gn  bhi  *m  thrUll  nisgo  agad.** 
OwaoiMlth  an  grenaaidio  boehd  gn  *n  d*  thng  iad  car  at  am  beaehd,  *a 
dh  Yhalbh  a  fiHn  do  *n  lobar.    Chtmnaio  a  failaat  na  graagaicha  tan 
tobar,  *•  dh'  ambaire  a  toaa  do  *n  chraotbh  *•  faioear  am  boirionoach  ba 
bhrèaglia  a  chnnnaio  a  riamlL    *'*S  oorrach  do  ahnidbeachan  ach  *a 
maitaach  do  ghnbia,**  thnbhairt  an  greasaiche.     "  Thig  a  noaa  oir, 
tlw  feum  dimity  car  bine  ghebrr  'nam  thigli-aa.**   Thaig  an  grenaaicha 
gn*m  b*a  ao  am  failaat  a  chair  a  chuideaclidtan  air  bboiia.    Thag  an 
granaalch  i  gn  thigh  *t  thabhairt  e  ritlie^  **  nach  robh  aiga-tan  ach 
bothan  boclid,  ach  gn  *m  laigheadb  i  a  cold  dhe  na  bb*  ann.'*    An 
caann  latha  na  dhk  *na  dhtfigb  to,  Uitfinig  tribir  fhlea^gach  naaal  gn 
tigh  a  ghreoaaicha,  airaon  brbgan  a  dhèanamh  dhoibh,  't  an  r)gb  air 
tighinn  dbacbaidh,  agnt  a  'dol  a  pliòtadh.    Ach  thil  do  *n  d'  thng 
na  flaaagalch,  chnnnaio  iad  nighean  an  fhamluiir,  *t  ma  chnnnaic^ 
eha  "n  fhae  iad  riamh  ttf  00  bòidhaach  ritba.    <**8ann  agad  atha  *n 
nigliaan  bhòidliaach  an  to,**  thnbhairt  na  ileatgaich  ria  a  ghrtnaaieba. 
"*  Ach  cha  'n  e  mo  nighaan-aa  th'  ann.**    **  Mhila  T  ana  faar  dhinbh, 
"bhairinn  tiin  cabd  pannd  air  ton  a  pòtadh."    Thubhairt  an  dithia 
alia  a  laithid  cheodna.    Thubhairt  an  greuaaidie  bocbd,  "nach  robh 
gnothuch  aige-tan  ri  a  dh^aoamh  ritha.*  "  Adi,**  an*  iadaan,  **  Ikrraid 
thnaa  dhilh  *n  nochd.  agua  leig  floa  thugainne  *mhiraach.''    Nnair 
a  dh*  fludbh  na  h*-naialean,  dh'  fharraid  i  do*n  gfareuaaiclia^  "gu  dtf 
and  a  bha  iad  ag  ndh  mu  *m  dheibbinnaa  7  **  Dh*  innia  an  grenaaidM 
dhith.    **  Falbh  'nan  d^igh,**  an*  iae,  '*pòaaidh  mi  fear  aca  a  nochd 
fAn,  *a  thugadh  a  leia  a  aporan  airgid.**    Dh*  fhalbh  an  granaaicha 
*nan  d^h,  'a  dh*  innia  a  *n  ain  fein.  Thill  e*n  t-bganach.  Thug  e  caod 
punnd  do  *n  ghreuaaiche,  air-aon  tochar.    "  Chaidh  i  a  luidhe,  agua  an 
uair  a  bha  aodach  an  ògtnaich  dlieth,  dh*  iarr  i  air  dcoch  niaga  aa  a 
cfabm  a  bha  air  a  blibrd  air  taobh  thall  an  t-aabmalr ;  dh*  fhalbh  e^ 
ach  aa  a*  ain  cha  d*  thigeadh  a  Cad  na  h'-oidhchai  ia  graira  aig  air  ai| 


54  rar  HIGHLàHD  TàLHL 

and  thej  did  thAÌ.  Tlia  gUnt  went  awaj  with  him,  uid  h«  had  a 
rod  in  Idi  hand,  and  when  they  were  a  little  hit  from  the  honae, 
the  gient  aeked  the  cook's  eon— *  What  woold  thj  Cipher  do  with 
this  little  rod  if  he  had  it  ? '  *  I  don't  know  m  jieU;'inid  the  oook'a 
■on,  *  unlets  he  would  heat  the  dogs  awaj  from  the  meat.'  With 
thst  the  giant  understood  that  he  had  no4  got  thii  right  one,  and 
be  turned  back  with  him,  and  he  asked  that  the  king's  ton  shonld 
be  sent  to  him.  Then  they  put  braTe  clothes  on  the  son  of  tho 
BnuAio,  and  they  sent  him  out  to  the  giant,  but  the  giant  wm 
not  long  till  he  did  to  him  as  he  had  done  to  the  cook's  son,  and 
he  returned  with  him  full  of  heayy  wrath.  He  said  to  them,  un- 
less thej  sent  out  to  him  there  the  king's  son,  that  the  highest 
■tone  in  the  castle  would  be  the  lowest  presentlj,  and  that  he 
would  kill  all  who  were  within ;  and  then  thej  were  obliged  to 
■end  out  the  king's  son  himself^  though  it  waa  Tery  grieyoua ; 
and  the  giant  went  awaj  with  him.  When  they  were  gone  a  little 
bit  from  the  castle,  the  giant  showed  him  the  rod  that  was  in  his 
hand  and  he  said—'  What  would  thy  father  do  with  this  rod  if 
he  were  to  have  it?'  And  the  king's  son  said—'  Mr  father  has 
a  braver  rod  than  that.'  And  the  giaot  asked  him — *  Where  will 
thy  father  be  when  he  has  that  brave  (bnagh)  rod  ? '  And  the 
king's  son  said — '  He  will  be  sitting  in  his  kingly  chair ; '  and 
the  giant  understood  that  he  had  the  right  one.  [Tkùpa»»agei» 
trantkUed  entire^  (eoatise,  as  1  am  told,  there  ts  a  iimiktr  passage 
in  the  VoUung  Ude],  The  giant  took  him  home,  and  set  him  to 
clean  the  byre  that  had  not  been  cleansed  for  seven  years  ;  and  in 
case  of  failure,  threatened  sb't  fhuil  drab  aluin  ouruin  a 

nUlTHIS  AOUM  A  CHASOA  m'  IOTADH  AOUS  t'  FUBOIL  DR  OHRINN  MAB 

MHiLUSTAiN  FHiAOAL.  It  is  thy  fresh  goodly  beautiful  blood  I 
will  have  quenching  my  thirst,  and  thy  fresh,  beautiful  flesh  as 
sweetening  of  teeth ;"  and  he  went  to  bed. 

The  king's  sun  failed  of  course ;  all  that  went  out  at  one  door 
came  in  at  another.  Then  came  mabi  buadu,  Auburn  Bfary, 
the  giant's  daughter,  and  made  bim  promise  to  marry  lier,  and  ho 
gave  his  hand  and  his  promise.  She  made  him  set  all  the  oaibb 
and  ahovek  in  order,  waived  her  hand,  and  they  worked  alone,  and 
cleaned  the  byre.  "  She  took  an  apple  from  her  pocket — a  golden 
apple — and  it  would  run  from  end  to  end,  and  would  raise  no  stain 
in  any  place,  it  was  so  clean." 


THB  BATTLB  or  THB  BIBIXl  $$ 

The  dan^bUr  '*  had  been  in  Mwing  all  daj,"  wben  her  falher 
came  home  from  buDting,  and  asked  bit  bouaewife.  Next  oarae 
the  thatobing  of  the  bam  with  *'  the  feathers  of  all  the  birds  the 
giant  had  ever  killed,  to  be  laid  as  cloee  as  ever  the/  laj  on  the 
back  of  a  heather  hen  or  a  black  cock.'*  The  wind  blew  them 
awaj  as  fast  as  be  put  them  on.  The  daoghter  came,  and  after 
a  new  promise,  *'  oiiathodu,"  she  shook  them  as  chaff  (is  shaken 
OB  hill  tops  now),  with  tbe  wind,  and  the  wbd  blew  them  straight 
to  their  own  place.  The  giant  came  home  from  his  honting  as 
nsnal,  and  asked^-**  Honsewile,  was  Anbnrn  Mary  cot  at  all  to* 
daj  ?*'  **  No,  she  was  within  sewing."  He  went  ont|  and  brought 
in  SaiAV  BiiRiAOR  BHuiLBiB  DBABMAon,  a  braTS,  clear,  shinj  bridle, 
and  ordered  tbe  king's  son  to  catch  tbe  Falaub,  fill/,  on  yonder 
hill,  and  tie  her  in  tbe  stable,  or  ebie,  &c. 

Tbe  fine  bridle  would  not  do.  Then  the  daughter  brought  from 
the  stable,  8ban  StOAw  dubr  mkiroach,  an  oki,  black,  rustj  bridle 
that  was  behind  one  of  the  turf  seats,  and  shook  it,  and  the  fillj 
came  and  put  her  nose  into  U, 

The  giant  had  tbe  usual  talk,  but  gare  no  more  orders,  and 
his  daughter  told  the  king's  son  that  he  would  kill  him  that  night, 
bnt  that  she  would  save  him  if  be  would  promise  to  marry  her. 

**  She  put  a  wooden  bench  in  tbe  bed  of  the  king's  son ;  two 
wooden  benches  in  her  own  bed.  She  spat  at  the  front  of  her  own 
bed,  and  spat  at  the  side  of  the  giant's  bed,  and  spat  at  the 
paseage  door,  and  she  set  two  applee  aboTC  tbe  giant's  bed,  ready 
to  fall  on  him  when  he  should  wake  and  set  him  asleep  again." 
And  they  mounted  and  rode  away,  and  set  the  filly  "  nmniug 
with  might." 

The  giant  awoke,  isnd  shouted — "  Rise,  daogbteri  and  bring    ^    a 
me  a  drink  of  tbe  blood  of  tbe  king's  son."    *<  I  will  arise,"  said  'aj[/    7 
the  spittle,  in  front  of  his  bed ;  and  one  of  the  apples  fell  and  struck  ^  1  ^ 
hire  between  tbe  two  shoulders,  and  he  slept.    The  second  time    i*^^* 
it  was — '*  Rise,  wife ; "  and  the  same  thing  happened.   The  third 
time  be  shouted—"  Art  thou  rising  to  give  me  a  drink  of  the  blood 
of  the  king's  son.  Oh  wife  ?"    "  Ooming  with  it,"  said  the  spitt^ 
'*  behind  the  door  of  the  cabh." 

Then  be  lay  a  while,  and  got  up  with  an  axe,  and  struck  it 
into  the  bench  in  the  bed  of  the  king's  son.  [80  did  a  giant  to 
Jack  the  giant-killer,  and  so  did  Skrymir  toThorr  in  Oylfi's  nook- 


56  .  WEST  HIGHLAND  TALES. 

ing.  £ddA(trtiiilAt6db7a.  W.  DaMnt,pAge54.)J  And  whan 
be  MW  whmt  he  hiul,  he  ran  to  his  dangfatei^s  hed,  and  atnick  hit 
axe  into  the  two  things  which  he  found  there.  Then  he  ran  into 
the  stable,  and  then  he  ran  after  the  fngitÌTes.  At  the  month  of 
daj,  the  daughter  said — *'  I  feel  mj  father's  breath  burning  me  be- 
tween the  two  shoulders ; "  and  the  king's  son  took  a  drop  of 
water  from  the  filly's  right  ear,  and  threw  it  over  his  shoulder, 
and  it  became  1^  lake  which  the  giant  could  not  cross.  Then  he 
said — ^This  is  a  part  of  mj  own  daughter's  tricks ;  and  he  called 

out,  FOUB  FAinn  A  MHABI  BUADH  AQUS  HA  TUUQ  MISB  DHUnSA  DO 
DH'  FBOLUM  AQOS  do  lOmSAOHADB  v'  K  SO  MAX   A  BIKX  TBU  OBM 

MA  DHsiBBADH.  "  Feore  Fairs,  Auburn  Mary,  and  all  the  learn- 
ing and  teaching  I  have  given  thee,  is  it  thus  thou  hast  done  to 
me  at  last  ?"  And,  said  she,  ohaii  mum  agud  aib  aod  a  bhi  hab 
QUO  A  BTTHiaD.  '*  Thou  hsst  for  it  but  to  be  wiser  again."  Then 
he  said,  if  I  had  no  bhata  dcbh  diobaoh  rHBin  bach  faoa  oaoth 

BA  OBIAB  O  OHBAB  8BA0HD  BUADHBA.      My  OWU  tight  blsck  boBt 

that  saw  neither  wind  nor  rain  since  seven  years'  end.  And  his 
daughter  said — "  Thou  hast  for  it  but  to  go  fetch  her  then." 

Next  time  it  was  a  little  stone  that  was  found  in  the  left  ear 
which  became  a  great  crag,  and  was  broken  through  with  the  big 
hammer  and  the  little  hammer  obd  mob  aous  obd  bbao,  which  broke 
aod  pounded  a  breach  through  the  rock  in  an  instant  by  them- 
selves. The  third  time  it  was  the  seed  of  a  tree  which  became  a 
wood,  and  was  cut  through  by  the  axes  tuathab  of  the  g^ant| 
which  he  set  to  work,  and  his  wife  brought  up  the  black  dogs. 

The  fourth  time  it  was  a  very  little  tiny  drop  of  water  that  was 
found  in  the  left  ear,  which  became  a  narrow  loch,  but  so  deep  that 
the  giant  could  not  cross  it.  He  had  the  usual  talk  widi  his 
daughter,  and  got  the  same  reply ;  tried  to  drink  the  water,  but 
failed,  for  a  curious  reason,  then  he  thought  he  ifould  leap  it,  but 
his  foot  slipped  and  he  was  drowned. 

Then  came  the  incident  of  the  kiss  and  the  old  greyhound. 

She  went  to  the  house  of  a  sempstress,  and  engaged  herself, 
and  was  a  good  workwoman.  When  the  king's  son  was  to  be 
married  to  another,  the  cook  sent  one  of  his  underlings  to  the 
well  for  water.  She  stood  on  a  branch  of  a  tree  above  the  fuabab 
cold  spring,  and  when  the  maid  saw  her  shadow  in  the  well  she 
thought  she  had  grown  golden  herself,  for.  there  was  *'  golden 


TBI  BàTTLI  or  TBI  BIBD8. 


57 


weaTÌog**  on  the  dreM  of  Aubmn  Mary.  And  the  went  Wk  to 
the  oook  and  said :  "  Thou  art  the  lad  to  aend  me  to  fetoh  thee 
wator,  and  I  am  a  lump  of  gold.**  She  ient  another,  with  the 
tame  retolt,  eo  he  went  himeelf  and  saw  Mary  go  to  the  hooee  of 
the  sempetreM.  The  cook  told«  and  thej  asked  abont  the  atranger, 
bnt  no  one  knew  anything  about  her,  till  the  hen  wife  went  to  the 
eeamatreee  and  found  oat  '*  that  she  had  come  from  a  ahore  afiir 
off;  that  ihe  never  saw  her  like  for  sewing  nor  for  ahape,  and 
that  if  the  J  had  her  at  the  wedding,  she  would  make  Fbabtah 
miracles  that  woaU  astonish  them." 

TIm  hen  wife  told  the  qneen,  and  she  was  engaged  to  help 
to  make  the  dresses.  The/  were  pleased  with  her,  and  asked  her 
to  the  wedding,  and  when  there  thej  asked  her  to  show  some  of 
her  wonderful  tricks. 

**  Then  she  got  a  pock,  and  showed  that  it  was  emptj ;  and 
she  gave  it  a  shake,  and  it  grew  thick,  and  she  put  in  her  hand 
and  ^k  out  a  siWer  hen,  and  she  set  it  on  the  ground,  and  it 
rose  and  walked  about  the  house.  Then  came  the  golden  oook, 
and  the  grain  of  com,  and  the  pecking,  and  the  hen  said — 

'*  Leig  ma  choir  leam, 
Ma  chuid  do  n*  eoma. 

LeaTe  me  mj  right,  mj  share  of  the  oom ;  and  the  ooek  peoked 
her ;  and  sbe  stood  out  from  him,  and  said — 


OeogOeogQete. 

A*n  onimhne  leat  an  latha 

Chuir  mi  m'  bathach  ialamh 

Air  do  ahon  ? 

*8  an  cuimhne  leat  an  latha 

A  tbnbh  mi  n*  Sabbal 

Air  do  shon  ? 

*8  an  cuimhne  leat  an  latha 

Qhlao  mi  n'f  hailair 

Air  do  shon  ? 

*S  an  cuimhne  leat  an  latha 

Bhith  mi  m'athair 

Air  do  shon  ? 


Geog  GeogOeOa. 

Doet  thou  remember  the  daj 

that  I  emptied  the  bjre 

for  thee? 

Doet  thou  remember  the  daj 

that  I  thatohed  the  bam 

for  thoe  ? 

Dost  thou  remember  the  day 

that  I  caught  the  fillj 

for  thee  ? 

Dost  thou  remember  the  day 

that  I  drowned  my  father 

for  thee  ? 


Then  the  king*s  son  thought  a  little  and  he  remembered 
Auburn  Mary,  and  all  she  had  done  for  him,  and  be  asked  a  roice 


58  Wnr  HIGHLAND  TALM. 

with  her  apart,  and  they  had  a  little  talk,  and  the  told  the  king 
and  the  qaeen,  and  he  found  the  "  gin  "  kin  good,  and  he  tamed 
his  hack  on  the  other  one,  and  he  married  Anhom  Mary,  and  they 
made  a  wedding  that  lasted  MTen  yean ;  and  the  last  day  was 
110  worse  than  the  first  day — 

8'ma  hha  na  h*f  hearr  ann,  hha, 
8'mar  rohh  leig  da 

And  if  there  were  hotter  there  were. 
And  if  not,  let  them  he. 

The  tale  is  ended. 
Tha  crioch  air  *n  sgenl. 

This  Torsion  is  prohahly  the  oldest.  It  is  the  most  pio- 
inresqae ;  it  contains  nearly  all  that  is  in  the  others,  and  it  is  full 
'oì'  the  quaint  expressions  which  characterise  the  telling  of  Gaelic 
tales.  The  quarrel  is  remarkahly  like  a  fahle  aimed  at  the  gre6dy 
Mslis  mouse  and  the  sturdy  eaunirif  wren,  a  fahle  from  the 
country  side,  for  the  birds  beat  the  beasts  of  the  plain,  the  raven 
beat  the  snake. 

8.  I  hare  still  another  Torsion,  told  by  Roderick  Mackende, 
sawyer,  Gairloch,  and  written  by  Hector  IJrquhart.  It  is  called, 
NiORBAM  DoBH  Ghbal  Dbabo,  Tho  daughter  of  Black-white  Red. 

Three  sons  of  the  king  of  Erin  were  on  a  day  playing  shinny 
on  a  strand,  and  they  saw  birds  whose  like  they  had  nerer  seen, 
and  one  especially.  Their  father  told  them  that  this  was  Mao 
SiMHLADB  NiOHiMM  DoBB  Ghbal  Dbaso,  and  the  eldest  son 
said  that  he  would  never  rest  till  he  got  the  groat  beautiful  bird 
for  himself.  Then  his  father  sent  him  to  the  king  of  France 
(ma  Fkaivqb),  and  he  struck  palm  on  latch,  and  it  was  asked 
who  it  was,  and  he  said  that  it  was  the  son  of  Erin's  king,  going 
to  seek  the  daeghter  of  Black-white  Red.  He  was  entertained, 
and  next  day  set  off  to  the  king  of  Spain  (ma  Spadidb),  and  did 
the  same ;  and  thence  he  went  to  the  king  of  Italy  (ma  *hEadilt). 
He  gave  him  an  old  man,  Bodagu,  and  a  green  boat,  and  they 
sailed  (and  here  comes  in  a  bit  of  tho  passage  which  is  common 
to  so  many  stories  about  hoisting  the  sails,  etc.,  with  one  or  two 
lines  that  I  have  found  nowhere  else,  and  here  the  three  king^  seem 
to  replace  the  three  old  women,  who  are  always  appearing,  lor 


Tin  BATTUI  or  THB  BIBUL  59 

they  know  where  the  led  ie  going  and  help  him  on).  The  old  men 
eeiled  the  hoat  on  ehore,  end  np  to  the  door  of  Bleck-white 
Red,  e  giant,  who  ae  nsnal  eaid  Fiu  fa  roAOiAiOR,  and  threatened 
to  make  a  ehinny  hall  of  his  head,  and  eat  him  nnlees  he  per- 
formed the  taaka  eet  him.  The  giant'e  eldest  daughter  came  and 
he  knew  her  at  onoe,  and  they  played  at  cards  all  night  8he  gare 
him  a  tether  to  catch  the  little  dun  shaggy  fiUy,  which  be  would 
loee  unless  he  pat  it  on  the  first  time. 

Next  he  had  to  kill,  Takbh  mob  ka  Tavicr,  the  great  boU 
of  the  cattle,  (or  perhape  of  the  earth,  Ta«).  The  daughter  gare 
him  her  lather's  Booha  baioiisad,  arrow  bow,  with  which  he 
pushed  at  the  bull,  and  he  followed  him.  He  put  the  big  black 
arrow  in  his  forehead  when  he  got  to  the  house. 

The  third  task  was  to  cleanse  the  great  byre  of  the  seveii 
stalls  that  had  not  been  cleansed  for  scTen  years,  or  his  head  to 
be  a  football.  The  daughter  came  at  night  aa  usual  and  gare 
him  Bara  agus  Cmoman,  a  barrow  and  a  crook,  and  told  him  to 
say  Cab  Cab  a  CmioMAni,  Cuib  aib  a  bhaba  a  shluabaid,  ouib 
A  MACK  A  BHABA,  and  the  toob  worked  of  tbemselres. 

Then  he  had  three  more  tasks  set  The  three  daughters 
put  three  needlee  through  three  holes  in  a  partition,  he  caught 
the  one  without  "  Chbo.**(?)  They  put  out  three  great  pins,  and 
he  caught  the  one  that  had  two  "  Phloo  "  heads.  Then  they 
pushed  out  their  little  fingers,  and  he  took  the  one  with,  Cab  ab 
AB  lOBOA,  a  notch  in  the  nail. 

**  Huh  I  huh  r  eaid  the  giant,  '•*  thou  hast  her  now,  hot  to 
Erin  thou  goest  not ;  thou  must  stay  with  me.'*  At  last  they  got 
tired  of  the  giant's  way  of  lÌTÌng,  and  set  off  together  and  pushed 
out  the  barge  (Bibukb).  The  giant  awoke  and  naked,  what  was 
that  eound  ?    One  of  the  daughters  answered,  that  it  was  a 

OlDOflB   UAMnASACB   LB  TBIB-ADBAIB  's  TaIBHBABACB,    B   fcarful 

night  with  heaTen — fire  and  thunder.  *'  It  is  well  to  be  under 
the  shelter  of  a  rock,"  said  the  giant.  The  next  scrape  of  the 
boat  it  was  the  same  thing,  and  at  the  third  the  barge  was  out 
and  under  sail,  but  the  giant  was  on  foot  and  he  threw  a 
obbabtlbadb  dhubh,  his  black  clue,  and  the  boat  sailed  stem 
foremoet  The  giant  sat  down  io  the  graTel  to  hnul  the  boat  and 
the  daughter  shot  an  arrow,  abb  am  bobb  ddbm  ab  niAMMAiB, 
into  the  giant's  black  solcr  and  there  be  lay. 


6o  man  niGULAirD  talbl 

Then  tbej  got  to  Srin.  He  went  borne  fint ;  ììm  eUid  in  Ùm 
berge,  till  tired  of  waiting,  the  went  to  a  imitli'a  liooae  where 
ahe  ataid  with  the  amith  and  hie  mother. 

One  da/  the  amith  heard  that  the  Rmin  waa  going  to  he  mar- 
ried, and  told  her.  She  tent  him  to  the  palace  to  tell  the  cook 
that  the  flneet  woman  he  erer  eaw  waa  Uring  with  him,  and 
would  many  him  if  he  would  bring  her  a  part  of  the  wedding 
ieaat. 

The  oook  came,  and  when  he  eaw  her,  bronght  a  back  load  of 
Tianda.  Then  they  played  the  lame  trick  to  the  bntler,  and  he 
brought  a  back  load  of  wine  oTeiy  day.  Then  ahe  asked  the 
amith  to  make  her  a  golden  cock,  and  a  aflrer  hen ;  and  when  he 
could  not,  she  made  them  herMlt  Then  she  asked  the  butler  if  ahe 
could  get  a  eight  of  the  king's  son  and  the  bride,  "  and  the  butler 
waa  Tory  much  pleaaed  that  she  had  asked  him,  and  not  the  oook, 
for  he  was  much  afraid  that  the  cook  waa  looking  after  her  alao.'* 
When  the  gentlea  aaw  her  they  asked  her  to  the  dancing  room, 
and  then  came  the  cock  and  hen  play,  in  which  the  hen  aaid— A 
ouoiucu  DHORDiMiGH  DHomu,  Thou  bkck,  murmuring  cock, 
doat  thou  remember,  etc.  The  prince  remembers,  marries  the 
true  giri,  "and  there  I  left  them.*' 

This  Tersion  rariee  conaiderably  from  the  others.  It  is  rery 
well  told,  and  I  much  regret  that  space  will  not  allow  me  to  gÌTo 
it  entire,  the  more  so  because  the  reciter  baa  brared  the  preju- 
dices of  some  of  his  neighbours  who  object  to  all  fiction.  I  hope 
I  hare  said  enough  to  show  that  thia  story  is  worth  preserration. 

If  storiee  be  mythological  thia  contains  a  serpent.  NiTiiAin, 
pronounced  Nthir,  and  a  raren,  FiniaAOE,  pronounced  Feeaeh^ 
who  seem  like  transformed  dirinities,  for  they  appear  only  to 
start  the  other  characters,  and  then  Tanuh  into  some  undescribed 
kingdom.  There  is  one  passage  (referred  to)  which  resembles 
Norse  mythology. 

So  far  aa  I  can  make  out,  it  seems  to  be  best  known  near  Cowal 
in  Argyllshire,  though  it  is  known  throughout  the  Highlands. 

It  would  have  been  easy  to  construct  one  version  from  the 
eight  here  mentioned,  but  I  have  preferred  to  give  the  most 
oomplete,  entire,  and  full  abstracts  of  the  rest.  Many  more  ver- 
sions  can  be  got,  and  I  shall  be  grateful  to  any  one  who  will 
throw  Ught  on  the  story  and  its  origin. 


Tin  BATTLI  OF  THE  BIRDS.  6l 

One  of  the  Utki  retemblet  one  of  thoto  imposed  on  Hercules. 
It  might  haTe  been  taken  from  classical  mythology  if  it  stood 
done,  but  Norwegian  peasants  and  West  Highlanders  oould  not 
■0  twist  the  story  of  Ueroules  into  the  same  shape. 

All  the  Qaelio  Torsions  are  clearly  Torsions  of  the  same  story 
M  the  Master  Maid,  in  Dasent's  Norse  Tales ;  and  there  are  other 
traits  in  other  Norse  stories,  which  resemble  the  Qaelio. 

Of  the  forty-three  heroes  called  Hercules,  and  mentioned  in 
aadent  lore,  ono,  at  least,  is  said  to  haTe  made  long  royagee  in 
the  Atlantic  beyond  his  own  pillars.  Another,  or  the  same,  was 
preTented  from  being  present  at  the  hunting  of  the  Caledonian 
boar,  haTÌng  killed  a  man  in  '*  Calydo,"  which,  by  the  way,  is 
Gaelic  for  Dlack  Forest.  Another  was  an  Indian,  and  this  may 
b%  ono  of  the  samo  clan. 

If  stories  be  distorted  history  of  real  OTents,  seen  through  a 
haie  of  centuries,  then  the  giants  in  this  tale  may  be  the  same 
people  as  the  Qruagach  and  his  brother  in  the  last  They  are 
hers  described  as  a  wise  learned  race,  giTen  to  magic  arts,  yellow 
or  auburn  haired.  (Ruadh)  possessing  horses,  and  knowing  how 
to  tame  them — able  to  pot  the  water  between  them  and  their  pur- 
•vers — able  to  sew  better  than  the  others — better  looking — 
ainsical — possessing  treasure  and  bright  weapons — using  king's 
sons  of  other  races  as  slares,  and  threatening  to  eat  them.  If 
the  raTen  was  one,  they  were  given  to  combing  their  own  golden 
ringlets  with  gold  and  silver  combs  and  the  gisnt  maidens  dressed 
the  hair  of  their  loTers  who  laid  their  heads  in  their  laps,  as  I 
have  often  seen  black  haired  Lapland  ladies  dress  the  hair  of 
Lapland  swains,  and  as  ladies  in  popular  tales  of  all  lands  always 
do.  I  will  not  Ten  tore ',  to  guess  who  this  race  may  have  been, 
but  the  race  who  contended  with  them  would  seem  to  haTo  been 
dark  complezioned.  Nearly  all  the  heroines  of  Gaelic  songs  are 
fair  or  yellow  haired.  Those  are  dark  who  now  most  admire 
yellow  locks.  A  dark  Southern  once  asked  if  a  golden  haired 
youth  from  the  north  had  dyed  bis  hair,  for  nothing  natural  could 
be  so  beautiful.  Dark  Celts  and  fair  northmen  certainly  met 
and  fought,  and  settled  and  intermarried,  on  the  western  isles 
and  coasts,  where  this  tale  is  current,  but  I  am  told  that  it 
has  traits  which  are  to  be  found  in  EUtstem  manuscripts,  which 
were  old  long  before  the  wars  of  the  Northmen,  of  which  we 


6l  WKT  HIGHLAND  TALB. 

know,  begaa.  The  task  I  haTe  undertaken  if  to  gather 
•toriee,  not  to  aoooant  for  them,  but  thii  much  ie  rare, 
either  Norway  got  thie  from  Scotland  or  Scotland  from  Nor- 
way, when  thej  were  almoet  one  coonti/,  or  both  got  it  from 
the  lame  eooroe.  The  Gaelic  atoriee  reaemble  each  other  about 
aa  much  aa  the/  all  reaemble  the  None.  The  tranalation  waa 
pobliahed  in  1859,  and  thia  atory  haa  been  current  in  the  ialanda 
at  leaat  lor  40  yeara.  I  can  remember  to  hare  heard  part  of  it 
myaelf  more  than  20  yeara  ago.  I  belioTe  there  ia  an  Iriah  ver- 
aion,  though  I  have  not  met  with  it  in  any  book.  I  hare  traced 
the  atory  amongat  Iriah  labonrera  in  London,  who  haTe  told  me 
that  they  need  in  their  young  daya  to  dt  about  the  fire  whole 
winter  nighta,  and  tell  about  the  fight  between  the  raven  and  the 
anake ;  about  the  gianta.  Fin  MacCoul  and  Conan  Ifaol,  *'  who 
had  neyer  a  good  word  for  any  one,*'  and  aimilar  talea.  My  in- 
iSDrmanta  were  from  Cork,  their  language,  though  difficult,  could 
bo  made  out  from  a  knowledge  of  Gaelic  only. 

The  bridle  deacribed  aeoma  to  be  the  old  Highland  bridle 
which  ia  atill  common.  It  haa  no  bit,  but  two  platea  of  wood 
or  iron  are  placed  at  right  anglea  to  the  horae'a  mouth,  and 
are  joined  above  and  below  by  a  rope,  which  it  often  made  of 
horae-hair,  heather,  or  twiated  bent.     The  horBe'i  nose  goes 

IITO  IT. 

The  ladder  ia  alto  the  Highland  ladder  atill  common  in  cot- 
tagee.    It  conaiata  of  a  long  stick  with  pegs  stuck  through  it. 

There  are  many  atoriea  in  Grimm*s  German  ooUection  which 
reaemble  the  Battle  of  the  Birds.  They  have  incidents  in  com- 
mon, arranged  somewhat  in  the  aame  order;  but  the  German 
atoriea,  taken  together,  have  a  character  of  their  own,  aa  Uio 
Gaelio  versions  have :  and  both  differ  from  the  Norwegian  tale. 
Each  new  Gaelic  version  which  comes  to  me  (and  I  have  received 
aeveral  ainoe  thia  was  written),  variea  from  the  rest,  but  re- 
aembles  them ;  and  no  single  version  is  like  any  one  of  the  Ger- 
man talea,  though  German,  Norae,  and  Gaelic  idl  hang  together. 


III. 

THE   TALE   OF   THE  HOODIE. 

From  Abu  MaoGilTnj,  laUj.— April  1869. 

fTÌHERE  was  ere  now  a  fiftnner,  and  he  had  three 
-'-  daughters.  They  were  waulking*  clothes  at  a  riyer. 
A  hoodie  f  came  round  and  he  said  to  the  eldest  one, 
'M-Pos-u-Mi,  "Wilt  thou  wed  me,  fiftrmer's  daughter!'' 
**  I  won't  wed  thee,  thou  ugly  brute.  An  ugly  brute  is 
the  hoodie,"  said  she.  He  came  to  the  second  one  on 
the  morrow,  and  he  said  to  her,  " 'M-pos-u-mi,  wilt 
thouwedmef  "Not  I,  indeed,'' said  she;  "anugly 
brute  is  the  hoodie."  The  third  day  he  said  to  the 
youngest,  'M-pos-u-mi,  "Wilt  thou  wed  me,  fanner's 
daughter  I "  "I  will  wed  thee,"  said  she ;  "  a  pretty 
creature  is  the  hoodie,"  and  on  the  morrow  they  married. 
The  hoodie  said  to  her,  "  Whether  wouldst  thou 
rather  that  I  should  be  a  hoodie  by  day,  and  a  man 
at  night ;  or  be  a  hoodie  at  night,  and  a  man  by  day  f  " 
"  I  would  rather  that  thou  wert  a  man  by  day,  and  a 
hoodie  at  night,"  says  she.  After  this  he  was  a  splen- 
did fellow  by  day,  and  a  hoodie  at  night  A  few  days 
after  they  married  he  took  her  with  him  to  his  own  house. 
At  the  end  of  three  quarters  they  had  a  son.     In 

*  Po$Uidk,  A  method  of  wtthiog  eloihat  prsctitod  la  tlie 
Highkiidi — Tts.,  by  dancing  on  them  barefoot  in  a  tob  of  water. 

f  Hoodie — the  RojuUm  orow — a  Terj  oommoa  bird  in  tiM 
Highkndi ;  a  sly,  familiar,  knowing  bird,  which  plaji  a  great 
part  in  theae  atoriM.    Ueia  oommoo  in  nostpartaofSvopa. 


64  WBBT  mOHLAKD  TAUBBL 

ihe  night  theie  came  the  yeiy  finest  mnsic  that  ever 
was  heard  about  the  house.  Every  man  slept^  and  the 
child  was  taken  away.  Her  father  came  to  the  door  in 
the  mornings  and  he  asked  how  were  all  there.  He 
was  very  sorrowful  that  the  child  should  be  taken  away, 
for  fear  that  he  should  be  blamed  for  it  himself. 

At  the  end  of  three  quarters  again  they  had  another 
son.  A  watch  was  set  on  the  house.  The  finest  of  music 
came,  as  it  came  before,  about  the  house ;  every  man 
slept^  and  the  child  was  taken  away.  Her  iather  came 
to  the  door  in  the  morning.  He  asked  if  every  thing 
was  safe  ;  but  the  child  was  taken  away,  and  he  did 
not  know  what  to  do  for  sorrow. 

Again,  at  the  end  of  three  quarters  they  had  another 
son.  A  watch  was  set  on  the  house  as  usual  Music 
came  about  the  house  as  it  came  before ;  every  one  slept^ 
and  the  child  was  taken  away.  When  they  rose  on  tiie 
morrow  they  went  to  another  place  of  rest  that  they  had, 
himself  and  his  wife,  and  his  sister-in-law.  He  said  to 
them  by  the  way,  "  See  that  you  have  not  forgotten  any 
thing."  The  wife  said,  ''I  forgot  my  coarsb  oohb." 
The  coach  in  which  they  were  foil  a  withered  faggot^ 
and  be  went  away  as  a  hoodie. 

Her  two  sisters  returned  home,  and  she  followed  after 
him.  When  he  would  be  on  a  hill  top,  she  would  follow 
to  try  and  catch  liim ;  and  when  she  would  roach  the 
top  of  a  hill,  he  would  be  in  the  hollow  on  the  other  side. 
When  night  came,  and  she  was  tired,  she  had  no  place 
of  rest  or  dwelling ;  she  saw  a  little  house  of  light  far 
from  her,  and  tliough  far  from  her  she  was  not  long 
in  roacliing  it 

When  she  reached  the  house  she  stood  deserted  at 
the  door.  She  saw  a  little  laddie  about  the  house, 
and  she  yearned  to  him  exceedingly.  The  housewife 
told  her  to  come  up,  that  she  knew  her  cheer  and 


71UI  TALI  or  THB  HOODU.  6$ 

trmToL  *  She  laid  down,  and  no  aooner  did  tlie  day 
oome  than  she  rooei  She  wen^  ont^  and  when  she  was 
oiit>  she  was  going  fiom  hill  to  hill  to  tiy  if  she  oonld 
■ae  a  hoodie.  She  aaw  a  hoodie  on  a  hill,  and  when  she 
would  get  on  the  hill  the  hoodie  would  be  in  the  hollow, 
when  Ae  would  go  to  the  hollow,  the  hoodie  would  be  ^ 
on  another  hilL  When  the  night  came  she  had  no 
place  of  leet  or  dwelling.  -  She  aaw  a  litUe  houae  of 
lij^t  far  from  her,  and  if  far  from  her  she  was  not  long 
reaching  it '  *  She  went  to  the  door.  She  aaw  a  laddie  _^^^ 
on  the  floor  to  whom  she  y^anied  right  much.  The  i^^"^^"^^ 
hooaewife  laid  her  to  rest  No  earlier  came  the  day 
than  she  took  out  as  she  used.  She  passed  this  day 
as  the  other  days.  When  the  night  came  she  reached 
a  housa  The  housewife  told  her  to  come  up,  that 
ahe  knew  her  cheer  and  travel,  that  her  man  had  but 
kfl  the  house  a  little  while,  that  she  should  be  cleyer, 
thai  this  was  the  last  night  she  would  see  him,  and  not 
to  sleep,  but  to  strive  to  seixe  him.  She  slept^  he  came 
where  she  was,  and  he  let  fall  a  ring  on  her  right  hand. 
Now  when  she  awoke  she  tried  to  catch  hold  of  him, 
and  ahe  caught  a  feather  of  his  wing.  He  left  the 
feather  with  her,  and  he  went  away.  When  she  rose 
in  the  morning  she  did  not  know  what  ahe  should  do. 
The  housewife  said  that  he  had  gone  over  a  hill  of 
poison  over  which  she  could  not  go  without  hone- 
shoes  on  her  hands  and  feet  She  gave  her  man*8 
clothes,  and  she  told  her  to  go  to  learn  smithying  till 
ahe  should  be  able  to  make  horse-shoes  for  herself 

She  learned  smithying  so  well  that  she  made  horse- 
shoes for  her  hands  and  feet  She  went  over  the  hill 
of  poison.  That  same  day  after  ahe  had  gone  over  the 
hill  of  poison,  her  man  was  to  be  married  to  the 
daughter  of  a  great  gentleman  that  was  in  the  town.     ^ 

There  was  a  race  in  the  town  that  day,  and  evety 

If 


66  wnr  maHLAVD'TALB. 


one  was  to  be  at  the  race  Imt  the  rtnnger  thai  Yud  * 
come  orer  the  pcnaon  hilL    The  cook  came  to  her,  and 
he  said  to  her.  Would  ahe  go  in  his  place  to  make 
the  wedding  meal,  and  thai  he  might  get  to  the  race. . 

She  said  ahe  wonld  ga  She  was  always  watching 
where  the  bridegroom  wmild  be  sitting. 

She  let  fidl  the  ring  and  the  feather  in  the  broth 
that  waa  before  him.  "With  the  first  spoon  he  took  np 
the  ring^  with  the  next  he  took  np  the  feather.  When 
the  minister  came  to  the  fore  to  make  the  marriage^ 
he  wonld  not  many  till  he  ahonld  find  ont  who  had 
made  ready  the  meal.  They  brooght  np  the  oook  of 
the  gentleman,  and  he  said  that  this  was  not  the  cook 
who  made  ready  the  meaL 

They  brought  np  now  Ìhie:one  who  had  made 
J  ready  the  meaL  He  said,  ''That  now  was  his  married 
wife."  The  spells  went  off  him.  They  tamed  back 
over  the  hill  of  poison,  she  throwing  the  horse-shoes 
behind  her  to  him,  as  fl^e  went  a  litUe  bit  forward,  and 
\  he  following  her.  When  they  came  back  over  the 
hill,  they  went  to  the  three  houses  in  which  she  had 
been.  These  were  the  houses  of  his  sisters,  and  they 
took  with  them  the  three  sons,  ^and  they  came  home 
to  their  own  house,  and  they  were  happy. 


Written  down  hjr  Hector  Maolosn,  icboohnafter  at  BaUj- 
grant,  in  Islay,  from  the  radtation  of  **  Ann  MaoGilTray,  a 
Cowai  woman,  married  to  a  (amer  at  Kilmeny,  one  Angni 
BCaogeaohy  from  Campbelltown."  .  Sent  April  14,  1869. 

The  Oaelio  of  this  tale  is  the  plain  e?  eryday  Qaelio  of  Is  lay 
and  the  west  ffigblanda.  Sereral  words  are  rarionsly  spelt,  but 
they  are  Tarioosly  pronounced — falbh,  folbb,  tigb,  taigfae,  taigfaean. 
There  is  one  wmd,  Tapaidh,  which  has  no  English  equivalent ; 
it  is  like  Tapper  in  Swedish. 


UB80BDL  NA  FBAlTNAia  6j 


UB8GBUL  NA  FSANNAIG. 

BmA  taaUnnach  ann  roimhe  to;  agu  bha  trihir  nighaaa  aig*. 
Bha  aad  a'  poatadh  aig  obhaino.  TliUBÌg  fHumaf  oiii'ki  evalrt  *a 
llwiffi  e  rli  an  U  btt  ahin^  *  Am  pòa  tha  miaa  a  nlgbtaii  an  taath- 
aMiah.*  **Olia pbba mla* Urn "bhaathaieh ghrànncUi  ia fraancU «m 
baathadianflMaBBag,*ar/iia.  ThUnig  e  tbiu  na  daraa  U  aa  U  V 
M  mllUrMld^*•  thttlrt  erUba.  «Am  pòa  thit  miaa.*  *'Cha  phòa 
ml UkOf^tn*  laa;  ** *B  grtonda am baathach  an  f haannag.**  Antraaa 
Intlnirteriaanta  b'òiga.  **Am|>òa  Um  mÌM,Anigbaan  an  toatb- 
aaalah.*  «*PòaakUi,*an'iaa;  «§  bòidbaaeham  beatbacb  aafbaan- 
nag;"  An  laV  na  mbbiraaeb  pbòa  end.  Thulrt  an  f  baannag  rithe. 
t}b  *te  ia  f  babrr  leat  nam  a  bbith  am  f  baannag *tan  latba*aam  dbnina 
Ban  oMbefaa^  na  bbitb  *aan  oldbcba  am  f  baannag  *b  am  dhainc  *aan 
talhnr*  *«'8rbaanrlaamthnbhitha'd'dhalae'aanlaUiA*Ba'd*rhaan. 
^ÈMk  oidbebc^"  an'  iaa.  Aa  adb^gb  ao  bba  a  na  òganacb  dataeb 
latba,'k*na fbaannag  'tan  oidbeba.  Am  baagan Udtbcan  ao d^gb 
dbnflihpbaadh  tbng  a  Ma  I  'ga  *tbigb  fèin.  Annan  eaann  tri  rbitbaan 
bhn  mae  aca.  Anna  an  oidbeba  tbbinig  an  aon  cbeòl  timcliiol  an 
taigfaa  bn  bbòidbcba  'cboalat  riamh.  Cbaidil  a  b-uila  duina,  *b  tbng- 
adh  air  folbh  am  pbiada.  Tbàinigab-atbairtbnnandoniiadtambad- 
ainn.  Db*fbeòraieb  a  64  mar  a  bba  b-nila  b-aon  an  liod;  'a  bba 
dnHiaiiinn  mbòr  air  gun  togadb  air  folbb  am  pbiada,  aagal  agua  gvm 
Modh  eoir^  air  a  dbèanadb  air  f!lln  air  aalion.  Ann  an  aaann  tri 
rbitUiaan  a  ritbiad  bba  mao  aila  aea.  Cboireadb  ban  air  an  tigb. 
Tbbinig  eaòl  ra  bbbidbaacb  mar  a  tbàinig  roimbid  dmebion  an 
taigfaa;  cbaidil  a  b.viladaina*aUragadb  air  folbb  am  pbiada.  Tbbini^ 
a  h-atbair  tbnn  an  domitd  aa  mliaidainn  db*  f  baòraieb  a  an  robh 
gnab  ni  oaart ;  aeb  bba  *m  pbiada  air  a  tboiri  air  folbb,  *m  cba  robh 
f  Idòa  alge  die  a  dbHnadb  a  Ma  an  daHiebian.  Ann  an  eaann  tri 
rbitbaan  a  ritbiid  bba  mae  aila  aca.  Cbaidb  foira  *cbar  air  an  tigb 
nmr  a  b*  kbbalat  Tbkinig  eaòl  timebloll  an  taigba  mar  a  tbàinitc 
raimbid ;  ehaidll  gaeb  neaeb,  'i  tbogadb  am  pbiada  air  folbb.  Mor 
a  db'  èlrldb  iad  an  la  V  na  mbbiraacb  cbaidb  iad  gv  bbita  tbmb  alia 
abba  aca,  e  fein  a  a'  bbean,  *i  a*  pbintbar  ebtflla.  Tbuirt  a  rin  air  an 
ratbad.  Fancb  nach  do  dbiehoimbnieb  aibb  ni  'aam  bitb.  Ura*  a' 
bbaan,  *  DniocnuiMnmoa  mi  mo  chib  onARBH."  Tboitan  carbad 
anna  an  robb  end  *na  cbual  ebriònaicli,  a  db  f  balbb  aaan  "na  f  baan- 
mag.  TbiU  a  dba  pbiatbair  dbacbaidb  'a  db*  f  bolbb  iaa  iia  db«gb. 
aan.  Nor  a  bbiodb  aaan  air  mollacb  cooie  laanadb  iaa  a  fencb  am 
bairaadb  i  air,  *b  nor  a  migaadb  Iaa  mollacb  a  dmoic  bbiodb  aaan 


68  WEST  HIGHLAND  TALES. 

•an  lag  an  taoUi  eOe.    Nor  a  thkinig  an  oidhcha  *»  I  vglth,  dia  robli 
kite  tkmh  Da  fuireadid  aiot.     Channaic  I  tigfa  beag  aoluiad  Ikda 
oaitbe  *8  ma  b*  fhada  oaitbe  dia  b*  f  hada  a  bba  ita  *ga  rnlgbeachd. 
Nur  a  ràfaiig  I  an  tigb  aheaa  i  ga  cQblidh  aig  an  doruad.     Chan- 
naic i  halachan  beag  feadh  an  taighe,  §  theòigh  i  ria  ga  b-anabarracb. 
Thairt  bean  an  taighe  rithe  tighinn  a  nio%  gn  robh  fioa  a  aeod  *a  a 
siabhail  atoese.    Chaidh  i  laidhe,  '■  cha  bo  loaithe  thainig  an  latha 
na  dh*  ^ridh  1.  Chaidh  i  *mach.  *a  nar  a  bha  I  *mach  bha  I  o  ehnoc 
gucnoc  fnieb  am  fkioeadh  i  fcannag.    Channaie  i  ISiannag  air  enor, 
*i  nor  a  radiadh  iae  air  a'chnoo  bhiodb  an  f  haanoag  'aan  lag  onr 
a  rachadh  i  do*n  lag  bhiodh  an  f  haannag  air  cnoc  eile.    Mar  a 
thkinig  an  oidhche  cha  robh  kite  talmb  na  faireachd  alee.     Chan- 
naic i  tigh  beag  loluÌBd  Ikda  aaitbe  *§  ma b*  fhada  uaithe chab'  fhada 
'bhaiae'gamighaachd.  Chaidh  i  gat  an  dorotd.  Channaic  i  balacluui 
air  an  nrUr  rla  an  do  thebigh  i  ga  ra  mhòr.    Chair  bean  an  taighe  a 
laidhe  i.    Cha  ba  mhoich'  a  thkinig  an  latha  na  gliabh  i  *mach  mar  a 
b'klihaiit    Choir  i  aeachad  an  latha  to  mar  na  Ikithean  eile.    Kor  a 
thkinig  an  oidliche  rkinig  I  tigli.    Thnirt  bean  an  taighe  rithe  tigh- 
inn a  nioi ;  gu  'rubh  fios  a  aeod  'a  a  aiobhail  aioe-ae ;  nach  d*  rinii 
a  fear  ach  an  tigh  fhkgail  bho  cheann  tiota  beag;  i  *bhith  tapaldh. 
gam  b*  i  aiod  an  oidhche  ma  dhelreadh  dhi  f  haiclnn,  *b  gon  I  *chada], 
ach  stri  rl  gr^m  a  dhèanadh  air.  Chaidil  ite,  *■  thkinig  esan  far  an 
robh  i,  'i  lig  e  toitaam  do  dh'  f  hkinn,  air  a  Ikimh  dheas.    Nur  a  dhaijf; 
ise  an  io  thng  i  Ikmh  air  breith  air,  '■  rug  i  air  Ite  d'a  igèith.    Leig  o 
leatha  an  ite,  'i  dh'  f  halbh  e.     Nur  a  dh'  ^ridh  I  'na  mhadainn  cha 
rolih  6oe  aice  dè  a  dheknadh  i.    Thuirt  bean  an  taighe  gu'n  deach  e 
thairii  air  cnoc  neamh  air  nach  b'urrainn  iae  del  thairia  gun  chriiidh- 
ean  d*a  Ikmhan  ague  d'a  casan.    Thug  i  dhi  aodach    fir  'a  thnirt  i 
riUh)  dol  a  dh'  ionnaachadh  na  goiblmeachd  gua  am  biodh  i  oum- 
aaach  air  crhidhean  a  dhèanadh  dhi  fdin.    Dh'  ionnsaich  I  *ghoibb- 
neachd  cho  math  'a  gnn  d'  rinn  i  crUidhean  d'a  Ikmhan  agua  da  caun. 
Dh  'fholbh  i  thairis  airachnoc  neamh.    An  latha  ain  fi^m  an  d%li 
dhi  dol  thairis  air  a  chnoc  neamh  bha  pbeadh  ri  bhith  aig  a  fear  ri 
nighean  duine  oasail  mhòir  a  bha  'm  bhaile.    Bha  ròis  anus  a  bbaile 
an  latha  sin,  •  bha  h-uile  b-aon  ri  bhith  aig  an  r^  ach  an  coigreacli 
a  thkinig  thairis  air  a'  chnoc  neamh.  Thainig  an  cbcalre  a  h-ionns- 
uidli,  *s  thnirt  e  rithe  an  rachadh  I  "na  kite  a  dhèanadh  biadh  na 
bainnse.  *b  go  'faigheadh  e  dol  thun  na  rtfise.    Thuirt  I  go*  radiadh 
Bha  I  furacbail  daonnan  ckite  am  biodh  fear  na  bainnae  'na  shnldhe. 
LIg  i  toiteam  do  'n  f  hkinne  airus  do  'n  ite  'sa  bhrot  a  bha  air  a 
bheulaobh.    Leii  a'  chiad  spkin  tliog  e'm  fklnne,  i  lels  an  ath  sfikin 
thog  a  'n  Ite.      Nur  a  thkinig  am  mlnistir  a  Ikthalr  a  dheanadh 


TUK  TALK  OF  Tm  HOODIS.  69 

a  phÒMÌdh  eha  photadh  esan  gut  am  fUghaadh  e  dot  eo  a  riiiii 
am  biadb.  Thug  lad  a*  lUhair  eòcain  an  duioa  vaaail,  *•  thuirt 
aian  nacli  b*  •  aiod  an  obcairt  a  rinn  am  biadb.  Thng  lad  tn 
Ibtbair  an  to  an  t-aon  a  rinn  am  biadb.  Tboirt  atan  gum  b*e  Riod 
airfiaan  phbfda-aan  a  nit.  Db*  f  holbh  na  geaaan  dbetb.  Tbill  iad 
air  an  alt  tbairit  air  a*  cbnoe  neamb ;  ita  atllgall  nan  erbldliaan  at  a 
d^gb  da  *ionntaidbaan  nnr  a  tbigaadb  i  treia  air  a  b-agliaidh,  *t 
itan  *ga  leantalnn.  Nnr  a  thbinlg  and  air  an  ait  thar  a'  ehnoie, 
cbaidb  iad  than  nan  tri  Uigbean  anna  an  robb  ita.  B*e  tin  tri  taigbeaa 
apbaatbraicbaan-ttn,tbagiadleoantriraie.  Tbbinig  iad  dbaobaidb 
g^  tigb  fifin/i  bba  iadgo  toiliehta. 

Hbotob  HaoLeàh. 


2.  I  baTe  a  great  many  reraiont  of  tbit  tale  in  Gaelic ;  for 
ezamplOf  one  from  Cowal,  written  from  memorj  bj  a  labourer, 
Jobn  Dewar.  Theae  are  generallj  wilder  and  longer  tban  the 
Tertion  here  given. 

Tbit  baa  tome  retemblance  to  an  infinity  of  other  ttoriea.  For 
example — Orpheut,  Capid  and  Pijche,  Cinderella*!  Coach,  The 
Laaaie  and  her  Godmother  (Norte  talet),  Eatt  o*  the  Son  and 
Weat  o*  the  Moon  (ditto).  The  Matter  Maid  (ditto),  Katie 
Wooden  Cloak  (diUo),  The  Iron  8toTe  (Grimm),  The  Woodcut- 
ter*! Child  (ditto),  and  a  tale  by  the  Counteta  d'Aulnoj,  Prince 
Cberie. 

If  thit  be  hittory,  it  it  the  ttory  of  a  wife  taken  from  an  in- 
ferior hot  oiviliied  race.  The  farmer'i  daughter  married  to  the 
Flayer  "  Fbaiiiìao,'*  deterted  by  her  hutband  for  another  in  tome 
dittant,  mythical  laud,  beyond  far  away  mountaina,  and  bringing 
btm  back  by  tteady,  fearlett,  peraeTering  fidelity  tnd  induttry. 

If  it  be  mythology,  the  hoodie  mty  be  the  raven  again,  and 
a  trantformed  divinity.  If  it  relatet  to  raoea,  the  tuperior  race 
again  bad  hortet — for  there  waa  to  be  a  race  in  the  town,  and 
every  one  wat  to  be  at  it,  but  the  ttranger  who  came  over  the 
biD ;  and  when  they  travelled  it  waa  in  a  coach,  which  wat  tufR- 
dently  wonderful  to  be  magical,  and  here  again  the  oomb  it 
mixed  up  with  the  tpellt. 

There  it  a  ttone  at  Donrobin  Cattle,  in  Sutherland,  on  which 
a  comb  it,  carved  with  other  curiout  devicet,  which  have  never 
been  explained.     Within  a  few  hundred  yards  in  an  old  grave 


70 


HIGHLAND  TAUHL 


oonpoted  of  greftt  Mm  of  ttooo,  aooidonunj  dioooforod  oa  a 
bonk  of  groTel,  a  man'i  ikelotoD  was  fiMmd  wHh  tooUi  worn  down, 
thoQgb  perfectly  foand,  exactly  like  theee  of  an  old  bone.  It  ia 
aappoaed  tbat  tbe  man  moat  bare  groond  bia  teetb  on  diiod  peaa 
andbeane — perbapa  on  meal,  prepared  in  eandstiNieqnerna.  Hero, 
at  least,  is  tbe  oom  near  to  tbe  graTo  of  tbe  fiurmer.  Tbe  oomb 
wbiob  is  so  often  fonnd  witb  qoems  in  tbe  old  dwellings  of  some 
pre-bistoric  raoe  of  Britona;  tbe  oomb  wbicb  ia  a  d?iliaed  tnstro- 
ment,  and  wbicb  in  tbeee  stories  is  always  a  ooToted  olgoot  wortb 
great  exertions,  and  often  magical. 


IV. 
THE  SEA-MAIDEN. 

From  John  Mackeniie,  fithennan,  near  InTerary. 

rflHERE  was  ere  now  a  poor  old  fiaher,  but  on  this 
-^  year  he  was  not  getting  much  fish.  On  a  day 
of  days,  and  he  fishing,  there  rose  a  sea-maiden  at  the 
side  of  his  boat^  and  ^e  asked  him  if  he  was  getting 
fish.  The  old  man  answered,  and  he  said  that  he  was 
not  "  What  reward  wouldst  thou  give  me  for  sending 
plenty  of  fish  to  thee  I**  "  Ach !  **  said  the  old  man, 
**  I  have  not  much  to  spare."  "  Wilt  thou  give  me 
the  first  son  thou  hast  I**  said  she.  "It  is  I  tiiat 
would  give  thee  that,  if  I  were  to  have  a  son ;  there 
was  not^  and  there  will  not  be  a  son  of  mine,**  said 
he,  "  I  and  my  wife  are  grown  so  old.**  **  Name  all 
thou  hast**  "  I  have  but  an  old  mare  of  a  horse,  an 
old  dog,  myself,  and  my  wife.  There's  for  thee  all  the 
creatures  of  the  great  world  that  are  mine.**  ''  Here, 
then,  are  three  grains  for  thee  that  thou  shalt  give  thy 
wife  this  very  night,  and  three  others  to  the  dog,  and 
these  three  to  the  mare,  and  these  three  likewise  thou 
shalt  plant  behind  thy  house,  and  in  their  own  time 
thy  wife  will  have  three  sons,  the  mare  three  foals,  and 
the  dog  three  puppies,  and  there  will  grow  three  trees 
behind  thy  house,  and  the  trees  will  be  a  sign,  when 
one  of  the  sons  dies,  one  of  the  trees  will  wither. 
Now,  take  thyself  home,  and  remember  me  when  thy 
son  is  three  years  of  age,  and  thou  thyself  wilt  get 


72  WEST  HIGHLAND  TALBS. 

plenty  of  fish  after  thi&"  Everything  happened  as 
the  sea-maiden  said,  and  he  himself  was  getting  plenty 
of  fish ;  but  when  the  end  of  the  three  years  was 
nearing,  the  old  man  was  growing  sorrowed,  heavy 
hearted,  while  he  failed  each  day  as  it  cama  On  the 
namesake  of  the  day,  he  went  to  fish  as  he  used,  but 
he  did  not  take  his  son  with  him. 

The  sea-maiden  rose  at  the  side  of  the  boat^  and 
asked,  "Didst  thou  bring  thy  son  with  thee  hither 
to  me  ?  *'     "  Och  !  I  did  not  bring  him.      I  forgot 
that  this  was  the  day.*'     *'  Yes !  yes  !  then,'*  said  the 
sea-maiden ;  "  thou  shalt  get  four  other  years  of  him,  to 
try  if  it  be  easier  for  thee  to  part  from  him.     Here 
thou  hast  his  like  age,"  and  she  lifted  up  a  big  bounc- 
ing baby.    "  Is  thy  son  as  fine  as  this  one  t  '*  He  went 
homo  full  of  glou  and  delight^  for  that  he  liod  got 
four  other  years  of  his  son,  and  he  kept  on  fishing 
and  getting  plenty  of  fisli,  but  at  the  end  of  the  next 
four  years  sorrow  and  woe  struck  him,  and  he  took 
not  a  meal,  and  he  did  not  a  turn,  and  his  wife  could 
not  think  what  was  ailing  him.     This  time  he  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  but  he  set  it  before  him,  that  he 
would  not  take  his   son   with  him  this  time  either. 
He   went  to  fish  as   at  the   former  times,    and   the 
sea-maiden   rose   at   the   side   of  the  iyooi,   and  she 
asked  him,  "  Didst  thou  bring  thy  son  hither  to  me  ?" 
'*  Och  !  I  forgot  him  this  time  too,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  Gro  home  then,"  said  the  sea-maiden,  "  and  at  the 
end  of  seven  years  after  this,  thou  art  sure  to  remember 
mo,  but  then  it  will  not  be  the  easier  for  thee  to  part 
with  him,  but  thou  shalt  get  fish  as  thou  used  to  do." 

Tlie  old  man  went  home  full  of  joy ;  he  had  got 
seven  other  years  of  his  son,  and  before  seven  years 
p>as8ed,  the  old  man  thought  that  he  himself  would  be 
dead,  and  tliat  he  would  see  the  sea-maiden  no  more. 


THB  SKA-MAIDBN.  73 

Bat  no  matter,  the  end  of  those  seven  yean  was  near- 
ing  also,  and  if  it  was,  the  old  man  was  not  without 
care  and  trouble.     He  had  rest  neither  day  nor  night 
The  eldest  son  asked  his  father  one  day  if  any  one 
were  troubling  him  1     The  old  man  said  that  some  one 
was,  but  that  belonged  neither  to  him  nor  to  any  one 
else.     The  lad  said  he  must  know  what  it  was.     His 
father  told  him  at  last  how  the  matter  was  between 
him  and  the  sea-maiden.     "  Let  not  that  put  you  in 
any  trouble,**  said  the  son  ;  "  I  will  not  oppose  you.** 
"Thou  shalt  not;  thou  shalt  not  go,  my  son,  though 
I  should  not  got  fish  for  ever.**    "  If  you  will  not  let  me 
go  with  you,  go  to  the  smithy,  and  lot  the  smith  make 
me  a  great  strong  sword«  and  I  will  go  to  the  end  of 
fortune.'*     His  father  went  to  the  smithy,  and  the  smith 
made  a  doughty  sword  for  him.     His  father  came  home 
with  the  sword.     The  lad  grasped  it  and   gaye  it  a 
shake  or  two,  and  it  went  in  a  hundred  splintersi     He 
asked  his  father  to  go   to   the  smithy  and  get  him 
another  sword,  in  which  there  should  be  twice  as  much  ^ 
weight ;  and  so  did  his  father,  and  so  likewise  it  hap- 
pened to  the   next  sword — ^it  broke   in  two  halves. 
Back  went  the  old  man  to  the  smithy ;  and  the  smith 
made  a  great  sword,  its  like  he  never  made  before. 
"There's  thy  sword  for  thee,**  said  the  smith,  "and 
the  fist  must  be  good  that  plays  this  blade.**     The  old 
man  gave  the  sword  to  his  son,  he  gave  it  a  shake  or 
two.     "  This  will  do,"  said  he  ;  "  it's  high  time  now 
to  travel  on  my  way."      On  the  next  morning  he  put 
a  saddle  on  the  black  horse  that  the  mare  had,  and  he 
iput  the  world  under  his  head,*)  and  his  black  dog  was 
by  his  side.     When  he  went  on  a  bit,  he  fell  in  with 
the  carcass  of  a  sheep  beside  the  road.    At  the  carrion 
were  a  great  dog,  a  falcon,  and  an  otter.     He  came  down 

*  Took  the  world  for  hb  pillow. 


74  WBT  HIGHLAND  TALKS. 

off  tiie  hone,  and  he  divided  the  carcass  amongst  the 
three.  Three  thiid  shares  to  the  dog,  two  third  shares 
to  the  otter,  and  a  third  share  to  the  falcon.  *'  For 
this,*'  said  the  dog^  **  if  swiftness  of  foot  or  sharpness 
of  tooth  will  give  thee  aid,  mind  me^  and  I  will  be  at 
thy  «>d®£,^Said  the  otter,  "  I^^«  swimming  oC^oot  ' 
on  tlie  ground'  of  a  pool  will  lobse^thce,  mind  me^  and 
I  wUl  be  at  thy  side."  Said  the  falcon,  '<  If  hardship 
comes  on  thee,  where  swiftness  of  wing  or  crook  of  a 
claw  will  do  good,  mind  me^  and  I  will  be  at  thy  sid&'* 
On  this  he  went  onward  till  he  reached  a  king's 
house,  and  he  took  service  to  be  a  herd,  and  his  wages 
were  to  be  according  to  the  milk  of  the  cattl&  He 
went  away  with  the  cattle^  and  the  grazing  was  but 
bare.  When  lateness  came  (in  the  evening),  and  when 
he  took  (them)  home  they  had  not  much  milk,  the 
place  was  so  bare,  and  his  meat  and  drink  was  but 
spare  this  night 

On  the  next  day  he  went  on  further  with  them ; 
and  at  last  he  came  to  a  place  exceedingly  grassy,  in  a 
green  glen,  of  which  he  never  saw  the  lika 

But  about  the  time  when  he  should  go  behind  the 
cattle^  for  taking  homewards,  who  is  seen  coming  but 
a  great  giant,  with  his  sword  in  his  hand.  "  Hiu ! 
HauH  HoaARAioH  111"  says  the  giant  "It  is  long 
since  my  teeth  were  rusted  seeking  thy  flesh.  The 
cattle  are  mine ;  they  are  on  my  march ;  and  a  dead 
man  art  thou."  "  I  said,  not  that,"  says  the  herd  ; 
"  there  is  no  knowing,  but  that  may  be  easier  to  say 
than  to  do." 

To  grips  they  go — ^himself  and  the  giant  He  saw 
that  he  was  far  from  his  friend,  and  near  his  foe.  He 
drew  the  great  clean-sweeping  sword,  and  he  neared 
the  giant;  and  in  the  play  of  the  battle  the  black 
dog  leaped  on  the  giant's  back.     The  herd  drew  back 


THB  8BA-MAIDIK.  7$ 


his  swoid,  and  the  head  was  off  the  giant  in  a 
ling.  He  leaped  on  the  black  hone,^and  he  went  to 
look  for  the  giant's  house.  ''He  reached  a  door,  and  in 
the  haste  that  Uie  giant  made  he  had  left  each  gate 
and  door  open.  In  wont  the  herd,  and  that's  the  place 
whore  there  was  magnifioonoe  and  money  in  plenfy,  and 
dresses  of  each  kind  en  the  warfrebe  with  gold  and  ^ 
silver,  and  each  thing  finer  than  the  other.  At  the 
month  of  night  he  took  himself  to  the  king's  house,  bat 
he  took  not  a  thing  from  the  giant's  house.  And  when 
the  cattle  were  milked  this  night  there  was  milk.  He 
got  good  feeding  this  night,  meat  and  drink  without 
stint,  and  the  king  was  hugely  pleased  that  he  had 
caught  such  a  herd.  He  went  on  for  a  time  in  this 
way,  but  at  last  the  glen  grew  bare  of  grass,  and  the 
gracing  was  not  so  good. 

But  he  thought  he  would  go  a  little  further  forward 
in  on  the  giant*s  land ;  and  he  sees  a  great  park  of 
grass.  He  returned  for  the  cattle,  and  he  puts  them 
into  the  park. 

They  were  but  a  short  time  grazing  in  the  park  when 
a  great  wild  giant  came  full  of  rage  and  madness.  '^Hiul 
Haw  II  Hoagraich  111"  said  the  giant  f^'Itisadrinkof^' 
thy  blood  that  quenches  my  thirst  this  night")  "There  ^ 
is  no  knowing,"  said  the  herd,  "  but  that 's  easier  to 
say  than  to  da"  And  at  each  other  went  the  men. 
T?iere  was  the  shaking  of  blades  1  At  length  and  at 
last  it  seemed  as  if  the  giant  would  get  the  victory 
over  the  herd.  Then  he  called  on  his  dog,  and  with 
one  spring  the  black  dog  caught  the  giant  by  the  neck, 
and  swiftly  the  herd  struck  off  his  head. 

He  went  home  very  tired  this  night,  but  it's  a 
wonder  if  the  king's  cattle  had  not  milk.  The  whole 
family  were  delighted  that  they  had  got  such  a  herd. 

He  followed  herding  in  this  way  for  a  time ;  but 


^6  WEBt  BIOHULHD  TALBL 

one  night  after  he  came  home,  instead  of  getting  ''all 
hail^  and  ''good  Inck"  from  the  daiiymaid,  all  were  at 
crying  and  woa 

He  asked  what  cause  of  woe  there  was  this  nighl 
The  dairymaid  said  that  a  great  heast  with  three  heads 
was  in  the  loch,  and  she  was  to  get  (some)  one  eyery 
year,  and  the  lots  had  come  this  year  on  the  king'a 
daag;ht6r,  "  and  in  the  middle  of  the  day  (to-monow) 
ahe  is  to  meet  the  uiUe  Bheist  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
loch,  bat  there  is  a  great  soitor  yonder  who  is  going 
to  rescue  her." 

"  What  suitor  is  that  r  said  the  herd.  "Oh.heisa 
great  General  of  arms,"  said  the  dairymaid,  "  and  when 
he  kills  the  beast,  he  will  marry  the  king^s  daughter, 
for  the  king  lias  said,  that  he  who  could  save  his 
daughter  should  get  her  to  marry." 

But  on  the  morrow  when  tiie  time  was  nearing, 
the  king's  daughter  and  this  hero  of  arms  went  to  give 
a  meeting  to  the  beast,  and  they  reached  the  black  cor- 
rie  at  the  upper  end  of  the  loch.  They  were  but  a  short 
time  there  when  the  beast  stirred  in  the  midst  of  the 
loch ;  but  on  the  General's  seeing  this  terror  of  a  beast 
with  three  heads,  he  took  fright,  and  he  slunk  away, 
and  he  hid  himself  And  the  king's  daughter  was 
under  fear  and  under  trembling  with  no  one  at  all  to 
save  her.  At  a  glance,  she  sees  a  doughty  handsome 
youth,  riding  a  black  horse,  and  coming  where  she  wa& 
He  was  marvellously  arrayed,  and  full  armed,  and  his 
black  dog  moving  after  him.  "There  is  gloom  on 
thy  face,  girl,*'  said  the  youth.  "What  dost  thou 
here)"  "Ohl  tliat's  no  matter,"  said  the  king's 
daughter.  "  It's  not  long  I'll  be  here  at  all  events." 
"  I  said  not  that,"  said  he.  "  A  worthy  fled  as  likely 
as  thou,  and  not  long  since,"  said  she.  "He  is  a 
worthy  who  stands  the  war,"  said  the  youth.     He  lay 


XHS  8BA-MAIDBN.  77 


down  beside  her,  and  he  said  to  her,  if  he  should  fall 
•sleep,  she  should  rouse  him  when  she  should  see 
the  beast  making  for  shore.     "What  is  rousing  for 
thee)  **  said  she.     ''  Bousing  for  me  is  to  put  the  gold 
ring  on  thy  finger  on  mj  little  finger.**     They  were 
not  long  tiiere  when  she  saw  the  beast  making  for 
shore.     She  took  a  ring  off  her  finger,  and  put  it  on 
the  little  finger  of  the  lad.     He  awoke^  and  to  meet  ' 
the   beast  he  went  with   his   sword   and  his   dog. 
But  there  was  the  spluttering  and  splashing  between 
himself  and  the  beast  1     The  dog  was  doing  all  he 
might,  and  the  king^s  daughter  was  palsied  by  fear 
of  the  noise  of  the  beast     They  would  now  be  under, 
and  now  aboye.     But  at  last  he  cut  one  of  the  heads 
off  her.     She  gave  one  roar  Raitic,  and  the  son  of 
earth  Mactalla  of  the  rocks  (echoX    called  to  her 
screech,  and  she  droTe  the  loch  in  spindrift  from  end 
to  end,  and  in  a  twinkling  she  went  out  of  sight. 
''Good  luck   and  victory  that  were  following  thee, 
lad  r  said  the  king's  daughter.     ''  I  am  safe  for  one 
night,  but  tlie  beast  will  come  again,  and  for  over, 
until  the  oUior  two  heads  come  off  her.**    Ho  canglit 
the  beast*s  head,  and  he  drew  a  withy  through  it^  and 
he  told  her  to  bring  it  with  her  there  to-morrow.     She 
went  home  with  the  head  on  her  shoulder,  and  the 
herd  betook  himself  to  the  cows,  but  she  had  not  gone 
far  when  this  great  General  saw  her,  and  he  said  to 
her  that  ho  would  kill  her,  if  she  would  not  say  that 
*t  was  ho  took  the  head  off  the  beast     ''  Oh  T*  says  she, 
"'tis  I  will  say  it^  Who  else  took  the  head  off  the  ^ 
beast  but  thou!'**     They  reached  the  king's  house, 
and  the  head  was  on  the  General's  shoulder.     But  here 
was  rejoicing,  that  she  should  come  home  aliye  and 
whole,  and  this  great  captain  vrith  the  beast's  head 
full  of  blood  in  his  hand.     On  the  morrow  they  went 


r- 


78  WUT  HIOnUlND  TALm, 

away,  and  there  was  no  question  at  all  bat  that  this 
heio  would  save  the  king^s  daughter. 

They  reached  the  same  place,  and  they  were  not 
long  there  when  the  fearful  uiUe  Bheist  stirred  in  the 
midst  of  the  loch,  and  the  hero  slunk  away  as  he  did 
on  yesterday,  but  it  was  not  long  after  this  when  the 
man  of  the  black  horse  came^  with  another  dress  on. 
No  matter,  she  knew  that  it  was  the  very  same  lad. 
'*  It  is  I  am  pleased  to  see  thee,**  said  sh&  *'  I  am  in 
hopes  thou  wilt  handle  thy  great  sword  to-day  as  thou 
didst  yesterday.  Come  up  and  take  breath.*'  But 
they  were  not  long  there  when  they  saw  the  beast 
steaming  in  the  midst  of  the  loch. 

The  lad  lay  down  at  the  side  of  the  kingf  s  daughter, 
and  he  said  to  her,  ''  If  I  sleep  before  the  beast  comes, 
rouse  me.**  *'  What  is  rousing  for  thee  t  **  "  Bousing  for 
me  is  to  put  the  ear-ring  thi^  is  in  tliine  ear  in  mine.'* 
He  had  not  well  fallen  asleep  when  the  king^s  daughter 
cried,  *'  rouse  1  rouse  !'*  but  wake  he  would  not ;  but  she 
took  the  ear-ring  out  of  her  ear,  and  she  put  it  in  the 
ear  of  the  lad.  At  once  he  woke,  and  to  meet  the 
beast  he  went,  but  there  was  Tloopersteich  and  Tlaper- 
stich  rawceil  s*tawceil,  spluttering,  splashing,  raving  and 
roaring  on  the  beast !  They  kept  on  thus  for  a  long 
time,  and  about  the  mouth  of  night,  he  cut  another  head 
off  the  beast  He  put  it  on  the  withy,  and  he  leaped 
on  the  black  horse,  and  he  betook  himself  to  the  herd- 
ing. The  king^s  daughter  went  home  with  the  headp. 
The  General  met  her,  and  took  the  heads  from  her,  and 
he  said  to  her,  that  she  must  tell  that  it  was  he  who 
took  the  head  off  the  beast  this  time  also.  "  Who  else 
took  the  head  off  the  beast  but  thou  f '  said  she.  They 
reached  the  king^s  house  with  the  heads.  Then  there 
was  joy  and  gladnesa  K  the  king  was  hopeful  the  first 
night,  he  was   now  sure  that  this  great  hero  would 


THl  8IA-MAIDIK.  7^ 

save  his  daughter,  and  there  was  no  question  at  all 
but  that  the  other  head  would  be  off  the  beast  on  ih» 
morrow. 

About  the  same  time  on  the  morrow,  the  two  went 
away.  The  officer  hid  himself  as  he  usually  did.  The 
king's  daughter  betook  herself  to  the  bank  of  the  loch. 
The  hero  of  the  black  horse  came^  and  he  lay  at  her 
side.  She  woke  the  lad,  and  put  another  ear-ring  in 
his  other  ear ;  and  at  the  beast  he  went  But  if  rawoeil 
and  toiceil,  roaring  and  raving  were  on  the  beast  on  the 
days  that  were  passed,  this  day  she  was  horrible.  But  no 
matter,  he  took  the  third  head  off  the  beast ;  and  if  he 
did,  it  was  not  without  a  struggle.  He  drew  it  through 
the  withy,  and  she  went  home  with  the  heads.  When 
they  reached  the  king's  house,  all  were  full  of  smiles, 
and  the  General  was  to  marry  the  king's  daughter  the 
next  day.  The  wedding  was  going  on,  and  ereiy  one 
about  Uie  castle  longing  till  the  priest  should  come. 
But  when  the  priest  came^  she  would  marry  but  the 
one  who  could  take  the  heads  off  the  withy  without 
cutting  the  withy.  **  Who  should  take  the  heads  off 
the  withy  but  the  man  that  put  the  heads  on  1 ''  said 
the  king. 

The  General  tried  them,  but  he  could  not  loose 
them ;  and  at  last  there  was  no  one  about  the  house 
but  had  tried  to  take  the  heads  off  the  withy,  but  they 
could  not  The  king  asked  if  there  were  any  one  else 
about  the  house  that  would  try  to  take  the  heads  off 
the  withy  1  They  said  that  the  herd  had  not  tried 
them  yet  Word  went  for  the  herd ;  and  he  was  not 
long  throwing  them  hither  and  thither.  "  But  stop  a 
bit^  my  lad,**  said  the  king's  daughter,  ''  the  man  that 
took  Uie  heads  off  the  beast,  he  has  my  ring  and 
my  two  ear-rings.'*  The  herd  put  his  hand  in  his 
pocket,  and  he  threw  them  on  the  board.     ''Thou  art 


8o  men  highland  tales. 

my  man,**  said  the  king's  daughter.  Tlie  long  ¥raB  not 
so  pleased  when  he  saw  that  it  was  a  herd  who  was  to 
many  his  daughter,  but  he  ordered  that  he  should  be 
put  in  a  better  dress ;  but  his  daughter  spoke^  and 
she  said  that  he  had  a  dress  as  fine  as  any  that  ever 
was  in  his  castle ;  and  thus  it  happened.  The  herd 
put  on  the  giant*s  golden  dress,  and  they  married  that 
same  night 

They  were  now  married,  and  eveiything  going  on 
welL  They  were  one  day  sauntering  by  the  side  of 
the  loch,  and  there  came  a  beast  more  wonderfully 
terrible  than  the  other,  and  takes  him  away  to  the  loch 
without  fear,  or  asking.  The  king's  daughter  was  now 
mournful,  tearful,  blind-sorrowful  for  her  married  man ; 
she  was  always  with  her  eye  on  the  loch.  An  old 
smith  met  her,  and  she  told  how  it  had  befallen  her 
married  mate.  The  smith  advised  her  to  spread  eyery- 
thing  that  was  finer  than  another  in  the  very  same 
place  where  the  beast  took  away  her  man ;  and  so  she 
did.  The  beast  put  up  her  nose,  and  she  said,  "  Fine 
is  thy  jewellery,  king's  daughter."  "  Finer  than  that 
is  the  jewel  that  thou  tookost  from  mo,"  said  she. 
"  Give  me  one  sight  of  my  man,  and  thou  shalt  get  any 
one  thing  of  all  these  thou  seest"  Tlie  beast  brought 
him  up.  '*  Deliver  him  to  me,  and  thou  slialt  got  all 
thou  seest,"  said  she.  The  beast  did  as  she  said.  She 
tlirew  him  alive  and  whole  on  the  bank  of  tlie  loch. 

A  short  time  after  this,  when  they  were  walking  at 
the  side  of  the  loch,  the  same  l>eaBt  took  away  the 
king's  daughter.  Sorrowful  was  each  one  that  was  in 
the  town  on  this  night  Her  man  was  mournful,  tear- 
ful, wandering  down  and  up  about  the  banks  of  the 
loch,  by  day  and  night.  The  old  smith  met  him.  The 
smith  told  him  that  there  was  no  way  of  killing  the 
uille  Bheist  but  the  one  way,  and  this  is  it — '*  In  tììc 


THl  SKA-MAIDKff.  8 1 

thai  is  in  the  midst  of  the  loch  is  Eillid  Ghais- 

fhion — ^the  white  footed  hind,  of  the  slenderest  legs,  / 
and  the  swiftest  step,  and  though  she  should  be  caught, 
there  would  spring  a  hoodie  out  of  her,  and  though 
the  hoodie  should  be  caught,  there  would  spring  a  trout  j 
out  of  her,  but  there  is  an  egg  in  the  mouth  of  the  |  ^ 
trouti  and  the  soul  of  the  beast  is  in  the  egg,  and  if 
the  egg  breaks,  the  beast  is  dead. 

Now,  there  was  no  way  of  getting  to  this  island, 
fbr  the  beast  would  sink  each  boat  and  raft  that 
would  go  on  the  loch.  He  thought  he  would  try 
to  leap  the  strait  with  the  black  horse,  and  oven  so  he 
did.  The  black  horse  leaped  the  strait^  and  the  black 
dog  with  one  bound  after  him.  He  saw  the  Eillid, 
and  he  let  the  black  dog  after  her,  but  when  the  black 
dog  would  be  on  one  side  of  the  island,  the  EiUid 
would  be  on  the  other  sid&  "  Oh  1  good  were  now 
the  great  dog  of  the  carcass  of  flesh  here !"  No  sooner 
spoke  he  the  word  than  the  generous  dog  was  at  his 
side ;  and  after  the  Eillid  he  took,  and  the  worthies 
were  not  long  in  bringing  her  to  earth.  But  he  no 
sooner  caught  her  than  a  hoodie  sprang  out  of  her. 
**  *Tis  now,  were  good  the  falcon  grey,  of  sharpest  eje 
and  swiftest  wing  1  **  No  sooner  said  he  this  than  the 
fidoon  was  after  the  hoodie,  and  she  was  not  long  put- 
ting her  to  earth ;  and  as  the  hoodie  fell  on  the  bank 
of  the  locli,  out  of  her  jumps  the  trout  **  Oh,  that 
thou  wert  by  me  now,  oh  otter  1 "  No  sooner  said 
than  the  otter  was  at  his  side,  and  out  on  the  loch  she 
leaped,  and  brings  the  trout  from  the  midst  of  the 
loch ;  but  no  sooner  was  the  otter  on  shore  with  the 
trout  than  the  egg  came  out  from  his  moutL  He 
sprang  and  he  put  his  foot  on  it  Twas  then  the  beast 
let  out  a  roar,  and  she  said,  ^  Break  not  the  egg,  and 
thou  gettost  all  thou  askesi**     ''Deliver  to  me  my 

o 


82  wBtr  momjuno  TALBL 

wifet"  In  the  wink  of  m  eye  ahe  was  bj  his  lidflL 
When  he  got  hold  of  her  hand  in  both  his  hands  he 
let  his  foot  (down)  on  the  egg  and  the  beast  died. 

The  beast  was  dead  now,  and  now  was  the  si^^  to 
be  seen. .  She  was  horrible  to  look  upon.  The  three 
heads  were  off  her  doubtlesii  bat  if  they  were^  there 
were  heads  nnder  and  heads  orer  head  on  her,  and 
eyes,  and  five  hnndred  feet  Bat  no  matter,  they  left 
ha  there^  and  they  went  home,  and  there  was  delight 
and  smiling  in  the  king's  house  that  night  And  till 
now  he  had  not  told  the  king  how  he  killed  the  giants. 
The  king  put  great  honour  on  him,  and  he  was  a  great 
man  with  the  king. 

Himself  and  his  wife  were  walking  one  day,  when 
he  noticed  a  little  castle  beside  the  loch  in  a  wood ;  he 
asked  his  wife  who  was  dwelling  in  it  t  She  said  that 
no  one  would  be  going  near  that  castle,  for  that  no  one 
had  yet  come  back  to  tell  the  tale^  who  had  gone  thera 

"  The  matter  must  not  be  so,"  said  he ;  "  this  very 
night  I  will  see  who  ia  dwelling  in  it."  '^Go  not^ 
go  not,"  said  she ;  ^*  there  never  went  man  to  this 
castle  that  returned.**  *'  Be  that  as  it  pleases,"  says 
he.  He  went;  he  betakes  himself  to  the  castl& 
When  he  reached  the  door,  a  little  flattering  crone  met 
him  standing  in  Uie  door.  "  All  hail  and  good  luck 
to  thee,  fisher's  son;  'tis  I  myself  am  pleased  to 
see  thee ;  great  is  the  honour  for  this  kingdom,  thy 
like  to  be  come  into  it — thy  coming  in  is  fame  for 
this  little  bothy ;  go  in  first ;  honour  to  the  gentles ;  go 
on,  and  take  breath."  In  he  went,  but  as  he  was 
going  up,  she  drew  the  Slachdan  druidhach  on  him,  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  and  at  once — ^ihere  he  fell 

On  this  night  there  was  woe  in  the  king's  castle, 
and  on  the  morrow  there  was  a  wail  in  the  fisher's 
house.     The  tree  ia  seen  withoriug,  and  the  fisher*s 


THl  SKA  MAmBf.  8} 

middle  son  said  that  his  brother  was  dead,  and  he 
made  a  tow  and  oath,  that  he  would  go,  and  that  he 
woold  know  where  the  corpse  of  his  brother  was  lying. 
He  put  saddle  on  a  black  horse,  and  rode  after  his  black  ^ì 
dog ;  (for  the  three  sons  of  the  fisher  had  a  black  horse*  / 
and  a  black  dog),  and  without  going  hither  or  thither  f 
he  followed  on  his  brother's  step  till  he  reached  the 
king's  hoosa 

This  one  was  so  like  his  elder  brother,  that  the  king's 
daughter  thought  it  was  her  own  man.  He  stayed  in 
the  castle.  They  told  him  how  it  befell  his  brother ; 
and  to  the  little  castle  of  the  crone,  go  he  must— hap^ 
pen  hard  or  soft  as  it  might  To  the  castle  he  went ; 
and  just  as  befell  the  eldest  brother,  so  in  each  way  it 
befell  the  middle  son,  and  with  one  blow  of  the  Slach- 
dan  druidhach,  the  crone  felled  him  stretched  beside  his  * 
brother. 

On  seeing  the  second  tree  withering,  the  fisher's 
youngest  son  said  that  now  his  two  brothers  were  dead, 
and  that  he  must  know  what  death  had  come  on  them* 
On  the  black  horse  he  went,  and  he  followed  the  dog  as 
his  brothers  did,  and  he  hit  the  king's  house  before  he 
stopped.  'T  was  the  king  who  was  pleased  to  see  him  ; 
but  to  the  black  castle  (for  that  was  its  name)  they  would 
not  let  him  go.  But  to  the  castle  he  must  go  ;  and  so 
he  reached  the  castle. — "  All  hail  and  good  luck  to  thy- 
self, fisher's  son  :  't  is  I  am  pleased  to  see  thee  ;  go  in 
and  take  breath,"  said  she  (the  crone).  "  In  before  me, 
thou  crone  :  I  don't  like  flattery  out  of  doors ;  f^  in  and 
let' s  hear  thy  speech."  In  went  the  crone,  and  when 
her  back  was  to  him  he  drew  his  sword  and  whips  her 
■  head  off;  but  the  sword  flew  out  of  his  hand.  And 
swift  the  crone  gripped  her  head  with  both  hands,  and 
puts  it  on  her  neck  as  it  was  before.  The  dog  sprung 
on  the  crone,  and  she  struck  the  generous  dog  with  the 


84  WB8T  HIGHLAND  TALBS. 

club  of  magic ;  and  there  he  lay.  But  this  went  not 
to  make  the  youth  more  sluggish.  To  grips  wth  the 
crone  he  goes ;  he  got  a  hold  of  the  Slachdan  druidhach, 
and  with  one  blow  on  the  top  of  the  head,  she  was  on 
earth  in  the  wink  of  an  eye.  He  went  forward,  up  a 
little,  and  he  sees  his  two  brothers  lying  side  by  side. 
He  gave  a  blow  to  each  one  with  tlie  Slnchdan  droidh- 
ach  and  on  foot  they  were,  and  there  was  the  spoil ! 
Gold  and  silyer,  and  each  thing  more  precious  than 
another,  in  the  crone*s  castle.  They  came  back  to  the 
king's  house,  and  then  there  was  rejoicing  !  The  king 
was  growing  old.  The  eldest  son  of  the  fisherman  was 
crowned  king,  and  the  pair  of  brothers  stayed  a  day 
and  a  year  in  the  king's  house,  and  then  the  two  went 
on  their  journey  home,  with  the  gold  and  silver  of  the 
crone,  and  each  other  grand  thing  which  the  king  gave 
them ;  and  if  they  have  not  died  since  then,  they  are 
alive  to  this  very  day. 

Written,  April  1850,  by  Heotor  CJrquhart,  from  the  dictation 
of  John  Mackenzie,  fisherman,  Kenmore,  near  Inverarj,  who 
■ays  that  he  learned  it  from  an  old  man  in  Lorn  many  years  ago. 
He  has  lived  for  thirty-six  years  at  Kenmore.  He  told  the  tale 
flaently  at  first,  and  then  dictated  it  slowly. 

Tho  Qaelio  is  given  as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  words  used 
by  Mackenzie,  but  ho  thinks  his  story  rather  shortened. 


A  MHAIGHDEAN  MHARA. 

Bra  ann  rolmhe  so,  sean  ÌASgalr  bochd,  ach  air  a  bhliadlina  so,  cha 
robh  e  faotalnn  a  bheag  do  dhlasg.  Latha  do  na  Udthean  's  e  'g- 
iasgsch,  dh'  ehrich  maighdean-mhara  ri  taobh  a  bhkta,  *s  dh'  f  heòr- 
aich  i  dheth,  An  robh  e  faouinn  a  bheag  do  dh'iasg?  Fhreagair 
an  seann  duine,  *s  tlmbhairt  e  nach  robh.  ''De  'n  dasis  a  bheir- 
eadh  tu  dhbmhsa  airson  pailteas  tfisg  a  cbuir  thugad?"    Ach  ars*  an 


A  MHAIGHDBAN  MHARÀ.  8$ 

•Mon  daÌM,  **Cha  *ii  *eil  abhMg  agamsm  ri  theichnadh.**  "An 
toir  thadhomhuioàndnihBcabhitliMsagad?**us*Ì8e.  **'SiniMa 
bbeireadh  tin  dbnit  na  *m  biodb  mac  agam ;  cba  robb  *s  cba  bbi  mac 
agamaa,**  an*  etan ;  *  tba  mi  f(An  *b  mo  bbaan  air  dnntinn  oo  Man. 
'Ainmleh  na  bbell  agad.'  Cba  *n  *ail  agaraaa  adi  laann  lUr  ddi, 
Mana  ghalla  ehoin,  ml  Mn  *•  mo  bbaan;  ttn  agadia  na  tha  cfareu- 
tairaan  an  Maoghdl  mbbr  agamta.**  **  80  agad,  mata,  tri  apilgaanan 
a  bboir  Um  do  d'  mbnaoi  air  an  oidbcbe  nodidf  agnt  tA  eOe  do  *n 
glialla,  aguf  an  tri  to  do  *n  cbapnll,  agns  an  tri  io  mar  an  oondna, 
eoiridb  to  air  cbl  do  tbigbe;  agoa  *nan  am  fein  bitbidb  tribir  mbac 
aig  do  bbean,  tri  ■oarraicb  aig  an  Ibir  tri  cuileanan  aig  a  gtiaflay  agns 
dnnidh  tri  eliraobban  air  ebl  do  tbiglie,  agns  bitbidb  nacraobbaa 
*nan  lambladb ;  *naair  a  bbaaaleboaa  a  h-aon  do  na  mie  teargaidb 
ttf  do  na  craobban.  Mis,  tboir  do  tbigb  ort,  agnt  colnnich  miaa  dur 
a  bbitboat  do  mbac  tri  bliadbna  *db*  aoia,  *s  gbeibb  tba  Min  pailtaaa 
eiig  an  dtfigb  lo.**  Tbadiair  na  b-aile  ni  mar  a  tbaUiairt  a  mludgli- 
dean-mbara ;  agoa  bba  e  f(An  a  Caotainn  pailteaa  4kg,  adi  a  noair  a 
bba  oeann  nan  tri  bliadbna  a  dlhthacliadb  bba  an  teann  dnine  a  fba 
danail,  trom-cbridbeadiy  *■  e  *dol  naitbe  na  b-nile  latba  mar  bba 
teaclid.  Air  eombainra  an  latba,  ebaidb  e*  db*  iaagacbd  mar  a 
b*àbliaiat,  acb  cba  d*-tbag  e  mbac  Ida. 

Db*  ^iricb  a  mbaigbdaan-mbara  ri  taobb  a  bbbta,  '■  db*  fliarraid 
i^^an  d*.tbiig  tba  leat  do  mbac  tbngam?**  ^Acbt  cba  d*.tbiig, 
dbi-cbnimhnich  mi  ga  *nif  b*e  ao  an  latba.**  **86adb !  seadbt  mata,** 
art*  a  mbaigbdean-mharl,  ''gbeibb  tba  oetbir  bliadbn*  aile  dbetb; 
faodaidb  gnr  ann  ia  nia  dhait  daalachadb  rla  ;**  ao  agad  a  ebomb* 
aoita,  *d  togail  aaaa  laanabb  brèagha  aaltmbor,  *'am  blion  do 
mbae-aa  cbo  brèagba  riar*  Db*  flialbb  a  dbacbaidb  Ibn  todain  ia 
•òlaia,  a  cbionn  gn  *n  d*  fboair  e  ceitbir  bliadbn'  aHa  d*a  mbao ;  'a 
bba  e*g-iaagacb  *aa*  faotalnn  paOteaa  èltg.  *Aeb  an  oaann  na  b-atb 
ebaitbir  bliadbna,  bhnail  malad  *■  brbn  c,  *•  cba  gbabhadb  c  Ibn  'a 
cba  dèanadb  e  tbm,  *■  cba  robb  a*  bbean  a  tnlgainn  dè  a  bba  cor  air. 
Air  an  am  to,  cba  robb  fioa  aiga  do  *dbèanadb  9,  acb  cbnir  c  roimba, 
nacb  d*-tbagadb  e  leia  a  mbac  air  an  ualr  ao  nis  mb.  Db*-flialbh 
a  db*  iaagacb  mar  air  na  h-oairaan  roimbo,  *b  db*Mricb  a  mbaigb- 
daan-mbara ri  taobb  a  bbkta,  '■  db*  (bebraicb  i  dbatb, "  An  d*  tbi« 
tba  tbagam  do  mbac  T*  "Acb  dhi-cbuimbnaicb  mi  a  air  an  nab  ao 
coidaacbd,  ara*  an  Mann  doina.**  "  Falbb  dbacbaidb,  mata,**  ara*  a 
mbaigbdean-mbara,  "agoa  an  oaann  laacbd  bliadbna  na  dbeigb  ao, 
tba  tba  cinntaach  mis  a  cboinneacbadb ;  adi  cba  *n  ann  an  dn  ia  naa 
dbait  dealacbadb  ria ;  acb  gbaibb  tba  Ìaag  mar  a  b-bbhaist  dbnit* 

Cbaidb  an  laann  dnina  dbariiaidb  Ikn  aoibbnaia :  flraar  a 


86  WB8T  HIGHLAND  TALKS. 

bliadhn*  cÌU  d'a  mhae  I  agns  mQ*ii  raohadh  taachd  bliadhna  aeaebad, 
bha  *n  aeann  doine  a  nniuineadiadh  gu  *m  blodh  e  fUn  nuurbb»  agns 
nach  Ikioeadh  e  *mhaiglideaii-iiihara  tailUdh.  Ach  ooma  oo  dhio.  bha 
otann  nan  leaefad  bliadhna  to  a  dlUtbachadh  cnideachd,  agua  nia*bha 
oha  robh  an  aeann  daine  gun  chhram  a*fl  trioblaid.  Cha  robh  foto  aiga 
a  laUia  na  dh*  oidhche.  Dh*  fhaòraich  am  mao  ba  shine  d'a  athair, 
aon  Utha,  an  robh  ni  air  bith  a*  enir  dragh  air  ?  Thnbhairt  an 
seann  doine^  <*gu'n  robli,  ach  nach  boineadh  sin  dlihsan,  na 
do  neach  air  bith  eile.**  Thnbhairt  an  t-òganach  gn  *m  fenmadh 
e  floe  fhaotainn  air,  *s  dh*innis  athair  dha  mn  dheirsadh  mar 
a  blia  cbnis  eadar  e  U\n  *sa  mliaighdean-mhara.  **  Na  cuir- 
eadh  sin  chram  *sam  bith  oirbh,**  ars*  am  mao:  "Cha  t^ 
mise  na  'r  n-aghaidh.**  "  Cha  teid,  cha  teid,  a  mUc,  ged  nadi 
fkighinn  iasg  a  chaoidlL**  "  Mar  leig  sibh  dhomh  dol  maille  ribh, 
radiaibh  do*n  cheàrdach,  agns  deaoadh  an  gobha  daidheamh  mbr 
Ihldir  dhòmhsa,  *s  Iklbhaidh  mi  air  oeann  an  fbortain.**  Chaidh 
atliair  do  'n  cheardaich,  *s  rinn  an  gobha  daidheamh  foghainteach 
dha.  Thàinig  'atliair  dhachaidh  leis  a  ehlaidheamh.  Rug  an 
t-òganach  air  *s  thag  e  oraUiadh  na  dhh  air,  *s  dli'  fhalbh  e  'na 
chaud  spealg.  Dli*  Jarr  e  air  'atliair  dol  do*n  chehnialch,  ague 
daidheamh  eilo  fhaotainn  deanta,  anna  am  bitheadh  a  dhh  airead 
do  ohndthrom ;  ague  mar  so  rinn  athair,  agns  air  an  dbigh  cheadna 
tliachair  do  'n  chlaidhearoh ;  bhrist  e  na  dha  leth.  Air  ais  chaidh 
an  seann  duine  do'n  chehrdaich,  agns  rinn  an  goblia  daidheamh  mòr ; 
a  Idthid,  cha  'd'  rinn  e  riamh  roimhe.  *<  So  agad  do  chlaidheamh," 
ars'  an  gobha,  "  's  feumaidh  an  dom  a  blii  maith  a  chlaichoas  an 
lann  so."  Thng  an  seann  doine,  an  daidheamh  d'a  rohac;  thag  a 
erathadh  na  dithls  air ;  **  Ni  so  feam,"  ars'  am  mac,  "  's  mithich  a  nts 
triall  air  mo  thuras,"  ars'  esan.  Air  maduinn  an  ath  lailia,  chair  e 
diollaid  air  an  each  dubh  a  bha  aig  an  Ihir,  agus  thug  e  'n  saoghai 
ftiidh'  cheann  's  an  cUth  dubh  ri  thaobh.  'N  nair  a  chaidh  e  greis  air, 
agliaidh,  thachair  carcais  caora  ris  aig  taobh  an  rathaid.  Aig  a 
charcais  bha  madadh  mbr,  seabhag,  agns  dòbhran.  Thdrin  e  bhhr 
an  eich,  agns  roinn  e  a*  chlosach  eadar  an  triUir.  Tri  trianan  do'n 
mhadadh,  da  thrian  do'n  dòbhran,  agns  trian  do'n  t-seabhag. 
"  Airson  so,"  ars'  am  madadh,  **  Ma  ni  luathas  chas  na  gdire  flacail, 
cobhair  dlinit,  cnimhnich  ormnsa,  agus  bithidh  mi  ri  d'  thaobh." 
Thnbhairt  an  dòbhran,  **  Ma  ni  snhmh  coise  air  grund  linne  fuasg- 
ladh  ort,  cnimhnich  ormsa  agus  bithidh  mi  ri  'd'  thaobh."  Ars'  an 
t-seabhag,  '*  Ma  thig  cmaidh  chhs  ort,  far  an  dekn  luathas  itean  na 
crom  ionga  feum,  cnimhnich  ormsa,  's  bithidh  mi  ri  *d'  thaobh." 
Qhabh  e  *o  so  air  aghaidh,  gus  an  d'ràinig  e  tigh  rìgb,  's  gbabh  e 


▲  MHAIOHIIBIN  MHABA.  87 

Mttinatwras  gu  bhi  'nm  bhnachtiUe,  agui  *suin  a  rAr  '•  na  bhith- 
Mdh  do  bhainne  aig  a  chrodh  a  bhiodh  a  ihoaraidaL  Gbaidh  • 
air  fdbh  Ida  a  chrodh,  adi  eha  robh  an  i-ionaltradh  aeh  loiii. 
'Nuair  a  thhinig  an  t-anmoch,  *i  a  thug  e  dhachaidh  lad,  oha  robh 
'bhaag  do  bhainn*  aa^  bha  *n  i-hito  te  kwa,  *•  oha  robh  *bhiadh  aa 
'dheoch  ach  •narrach  air  an  oldhcho  ao.  Air  an  ath  lath%  ghabh  • 
air  adiiart  ni  b*  flialdo  loo,  agnt  ma  dheireadh  thhinig  0  ga  Uto  ana- 
barrach  fearach,  ann  an  gleann  naino  nach  Cm  0  riamh  a  loithid. 
Aeh  ma  am  dha  dol  ma  ehhl  a  ehraidh  gn  'n  tabhairi  dliaehaidh,  eo 
i  ehitliear  a*  tighinn  aeh  famhair  mbr,  'm  ehlaidlieamh  *na  Ihimh* 
«*  Hiu  t  Hau  t  HoAonAion  r  ais*  am  fiunhair,  ••  's  fada  bho  *n  bha 
meirg  air  m*  fhiaelan  «g  larraidh  do  ehaid  feola :  'a  leomaa  *n  erodh, 
tha  iad  air  mo  ehrieli,  agna  ia  daino  marbh  thoaa.**  "  Clia  dnbhairt 
mi  ain,**  are*  am  bnaeliaiile ; "  eha  *n  'oil  fioa  nach  oaa  ain  a  rhdh  an 
dJitenamh. 

Ann  am  badaibh  a*  dioile  gabhar  0  fAn  *a  am  fiunhair.  Chnnnaie 
0  go  *n  robh  e  fada  blio  a  cliaraid  'a  dla  d*a  nhmliaid.  Thar* 
ruing  e  *n  daidheamh  mòr  nach  fhagadh  fnigheal  beam,  agoadlilhUi- 
aich  e  ria  an  fhamliair,  agna  ann  am  miroadh  a  eliatha  loom 
an  ch  dabh  air  chl  an  fhamhalr,  'a  Uiarmiag  am  bnachaiU*  a  chlaidh- 
aamh  'a  bha  *n  caann  do  *n  fhamliair  ann  am  prioba  na  ahiL  Loom 
a  air  main  an  eich  dhaibli,  agoa  diaidh  a  abaalltainn  airaon  tigh 
an  fhamhair.  Ràinlg  a  *n  donia,  agoa  leia  a*  cliabhaig,  a  bha  air 
an  fhamliair,  dh*  fhàg  a  gach  geata  *a  gadi  dorua  foagailta.  *8caaeh 
eiiaidh  am  bnacliailia,  agna  'aann  an  ain  a  bha  *n  greadhnachaa, 
br  'a  airgiod  ann  am  pailteaa,  *a  tmagain  dliath  gach  aaòraa  air 
am  falthean^le  br  *a  airgiod  *a  gach  ni  ba  rtomliaidia  na'  ehaOt. 
Am  benl  na  h-oidliclia  ihog  e  caiataal  an  righ  air,  aeh  dia  d*  thog  a^ 
dad  air  biih  leia  atigh  an  fhamliair;  agoa  a  nnair  a  chaldh  an  crodh  a 
bhlooghan,  'a  ann  an  ain  a  bha  'm  bainne.  Khoalr  a  da  bheatha 
mhaith  air  an  oidhcha  ao,  biadh  *a  deocn  gnn  ghainne,  agua  bha  an 
rtgh  anabarrach  toillchtf,  ga  *n  d*  fhuair  a  graim  air  a  leiihid  do 
bhoachaille.  Chaidh  e  air  af^haidh  air  aon  hina  air  an  dbigh  ao,  aeh 
ma  dheireadh,  dh*  fhka  an  gleann  lorn  do  dh'  fhenr,  agoa  eha  robh  an 
i-ionaltradh  cho  mailh.  Ach  amaoinich  e  gnn  rachadh  e  air  aghaldb 
beagan  ni  b'fliaide  a*  atigh  air  coir  an  fhamhair,  agna  faieear  pàirea 
mhbr  do  dh*  fhear.  Thill  e  airaon  a  chmidh  agni  cniraar  a  atigh  do 
*n  phairea  iad.  Cha  robh  lad  ach  goirid  ag  ionaltradh  *aa  phhirea,  *naalr 
a  thàinlg  famhair  mòr,  fladhaich,  Ian  fearg  agna  oormich.  "Hàn! 
hb  I  hoagraich  T  ara*  am  famhair,  "  *m  daoch  do  d*  fhnil  a  chaiagaaa 
mo  phathadh  a  nochd.**  **  Cha  V  eil  floa,**  ara*  am  bnachaille,  *'naeh 
fkaa  ain  a  rbdh  na  dheanamh.**    Ach  na  chaile  ghabh  na  Ar**a  aam 


88  mm  highland  tales. 

an  iln  a  bha  *n  oratbadh  lann.  Ha  dheireadh  thaU  tha  coltaa  air 
ga*in  fidgheadh  am  famhair  boaidh  air  a  bbaachaUla.  *N  tin  gUaodh 
a  air  a  ebb,  agna  la  aoa  leoin,  rug  an  cb  dabb  air  amhaJcth  air  an 
fbamliair,  *i  gbrad  bbuall  am  buadiailla  an  oeann  da. 

Cbaidh  a  dliacbaidb  g\4  sgitb  air  an  oidboba  ao,  aeb  na*r  tbalag, 
mar  a*  robb  bainna  aig  crodb  an  rigb  I  *i  bba  *n  taaghlach  air  Cud  èo 
toilicbta  air  ton  gon  d*  fboatr  iad  a*  leitliid  ao  do  bboacbailla.  Laan 
a  air  a  bbuacbaiUeacbd  air  an  dbigb  ao  re  nina ;  acb  oidbcba  *a  a  air 
tighinn  dbachaidii,  an  bite  do  *n  bbanaraicb  Airan,  *a  fbilta  *cbor  air, 
'i  ann  a  bba  iad  air  fad  ri  camba  *i  ri  bròn.  Db*  fboiglmaaclid  a, 
da  *u  t-aobbar  bròin  a  bba*  >o  an  nocbd.  Tbubbairt  a  bhanarach,  gu 
*n  robb  beiat  mbbr  le  tri  cbinn  *ian  locb,  agoa  gu  'n  robb  i  ri  aon 
fbaotainn  a  b-oile  bliadbna,  agoa  gu  *n  d*  tbkinig  an  cranncbor  am 
bliadbna  air  nigbean  an  rigb,  **  'i  mu  mlieadbon  latba  *mbiraacb,  tba  i 
ri  coinneacbaion  na  bnilo-bbtfiat  aig  oeann  abuaa  an  locb ;  acb  tba 
aoiricba  robr  an  aiad  a  Uia  'dol  g*a  tebmadb."  « De  *n  auiricbe  a 
tba  ann  ?'*  tbubbairt  am  bnacbailla.  **  O  t  tba  Saanalair  mbr  airm," 
tbubbairt  a*  bbanaracb,  **  tguM  a  nuair  a  mbarbliaa  e  'bbèiit^  pbaaidb 
a  nigbean  an  r)gh ;  oir  tbubliairt  an  rigb  *go  b*è  tbeàmadb  a  nigbean, 
gn  Yaigbeadb  e  i  ri  pbòaadb.**  Acb  air  an  Utiia  'mairaacb/noair  a  bba 
an  t-am  a  dlutbacbainn,  dh*  fbalbh  nigbean  an  rigb  *a  an  gaiageacb  airm 
10  gu  Goloneamb  a  tbabtiairt  do  *n  bheist,  *a  rainig  iad  an  Coire  dblib 
aig  oeann  abnas  an  locb.  Cba  robb  iad  acb  goirid  an  ain  *nuair  a 
gbluaia  a  bbèist  ann  am  meadbon  an  locb ;  acb  air  do*n  t-Seanalair 
an  t-uambaa  btfiate  ao  fhaicinn  le  tri  cbion,  gbabb  e  eagal,  *a  abèap 
e  air  falbb  *a  db'  fbalaicb  e  e  fi^n,  'a  bba  nigbean  an  rigb  fo  cbritb 
'a  fo  eagal,  gun  neacb  ann  a  tbebmadb  i.  Sbil  do  'n  d*  tbug  i,  fkioear 
òganacb  fogbainteacb,  dreachmbor  a  marcacbd  eacb  dubb  'a  a'  tigbinn 
fkr  an  robb  i.  Bba  e  air  a  sgeadacbdbainn  gu  b-anabarracb  'a  fo  Ibn 
armacbd  'a  an  cb  dubb  a*  aiubbai  'na  dbèigb.  **  Tba  gruaim  air  do 
gbnbia,  a  nigbean,"  ara'  an  t-òganacb;  <*  dd  tba  tbu  deanadb  an  ao?" 
"  O I  'a  coma  ain,  tbubbairt  nigbean  an  rigb,  cba  'n  f  bad'a  bbltheaa  mi 
ann  co  dbiu."  "  Cba  dubbairt  mi  sio,"  ara'  eaan.  "  Tbeicb  laocb  cbo 
ooltacb  riutaa,  *a  cba  'n  'eil  fada  uaidbe,"  tbubbairt  iae.  "  'Se  laocb 
a  abeaaaa  Catb,"  ara'  an  t-òganacb.  Sbuidb  e  Aoa  Ibirob  ritbe  'a 
tbubbairt  a  ritbe,  **  Na  'n  tuiteadb  eean  'na  chadal,  i  ga  'dbbagadb 
'n  uair  a  obitbeadb  i  'bb^t  a'  doanamh  air  aon  tir."  '<  De  'a  dUagaUli 
dult,"  tbubliairt  iae  ?  <*  'S  duagaUb  dbomb  am  fbinne  tb'  air  do  mbour 
a  cliur  air  mo  lughdag."  Cba  b'  f  liada  blia  iad  an  ain,  'n  uair  a 
cbunoaic  i  bb<5Ìat  a  dèanamb  gu  tir.  Tbug  i  'm  Ibinne  bbbr  a  meur, 
'a  obuir  i  air  lugbdag  an  òganaicb  e.  Dbbiag  e,  ague  an  coinneamb 
na  btfiate  gbabb  e,  le  'cblaidbeamb  'a  le  ebb ;  acb  'a  ann  an  ain  a  bba 


▲  MHAIGHDIAH  MHABA.  89 

*B  t-èhi|MrUleli  *•  an i-eUpurteidi  Mdar  e  ffia  *i  a*  hMkHi  *i  bha  *b 
eh  dèanamh  na  b*  unraiim  e,  *i  tha  niglMan  an  i)igh  air  bhaU-chrith 
•affail  lo  foaim  na  bfiite.    Bhiodh  lad  vair  ftiidha  *a  valr  an  nachdar* 
aeh  ma  dbeireadb,  ghabrr  e  fiMr  do  na  dnn  di;  Chog  i  ami  raibbaie 
aÌaCi^  *i  gboir  mae-talla  nan  ereag  d*a  agrèoch,  *a  choir  i  *n  looh  *Ba 
l|MÌr  bbo  cfaaann  ga  eeann,  agna  ann  am  prioba  na  ibla,  diaidh  i  at 
an  t-aaalladh.    *■  Piiaadi  *i  boaidh  gu  *n  lobh  ga  *d*  JtanUinn,  bgan- 
akh,**  ana  nigfaean  an  rigb,  "tha  miae  aabhaUt  air  ion  aon  oldlielM ; 
aeh  thig  a  bbelat  a  riChiat,  gn  brhth  got  an  d'  thig  an  dhehaann  eila 
dU.**    Bog  e  air  ceaim  na  b^ta^  agna  thamdng  a  gad  roimlia  *a 
Chobhairterithe,  "Iga'thabhairtlaatha^mmyraaefaanaDd."    Dh* 
f  halbh  i  dliacliaidh  *i  an  oeann  air  a  gnallainn,  *a  thvg  am  bwacbaiìla 
aa  mairt  air.    Aeh  cba  b*  f  hada  bha  i  air  a*  rathad,  *n  valr  a  choin- 
nich  an  Seanalair  mbr  m  I,  agna  thnbhalrt  e  ritbe  gn  marbhadh  %  I 
omr  canadh  i  gnr  eaan  a  thug  an  oeann  do  *n  bh^iat    *  O I  aia'  lea, 
*amitheirIcoeile;thnganceanndo*nbheÌ8ta€htha.**    Bàfailglad 
Ugh  an  righ  *i  an  oeann  air  guallainn  an  i-Seanalair ;  aeh  *a  ann  an 
80  a  bha  *n  t-aoibhneaa,  I  *tliighinn  dhaeliaidh  beò  ilhn,  agna  oeann 
aa  btflite  Ihn  fola  aig  a  Ghaiptean  mhòr  to  *na  lUmh.    Air  an  htha 
*kihireaich,  dh*f  lialbh  lad,  agna  cha  robh  twagamh  earn  bHh  naeh 
tehmadh  an  galigeadi  to  nigfaean  an  righ.    Rhinig  lad  an  i-hite 
eendna,  *a  clia  robh  lad  fad*  an  tin,  *n  oair  a  ghloaia  an  nlla-bheiat 
efllteil  ann  am  meadhon  an  loch,  'a  thàap  an  galtgeaeh  air  fiUbh  mar 
a  rinn  eair  an  lath*  do.    Aeh  cha  b*  fhad  an  d<figh  ao,  dvr  a  thhinlg 
Imt  an  eleh  dhuibh  *t  deit*  elle  air.    Coma  eo  dUo,  dh*aithnich  i  gar 
eebeartòganaehabh'ann.    «*  *8  miae  tha  toUichte  d*  f  halefau**  an* 
lee,  **  tha  mi  *n  dòchaa  gulhimheieh  tha  do  chlaMheamh  mbr  an  dingh 
mar  a  rinn  tha  *n  dè;  tkiig  a  nloe  'a  leig  i-analL**    Aeh  cha  b*  fhada 
bha  lad  an  tin,  *n  oair  a  chonnale  lad  a  bh^lat  a  taiaU  am  meadhon  an 
lech.    Loidh  an  t-bganach  tloe  ri  taobh  nigfaean  an  ligfa,  *a  thabhairt 
erithe,  "Machaidleaamitema'ndUig  abh«at,dhitg|mL''    «De 
m  dbaigÈdh  dhnit?  **    •«*8  dhtgadh  dhomh  a  chloait.f  haO  ain  a  tha 
*Ba  *d'  chloaia,  a  choir  *na  mo  the  fèln.**  Cbamhathachaidile  *nnair 
a  ghlaodh  nigfaean  an  r^gh,  **  DUitg  I  dhitg  I    Aeh  dntgadh  ciia 
dèanadfa  e ;  aeh  thng  i  chluat-f  hail  aa  a  doaia,  agot  choir  I  *n  dnaa 
an  òganaich  e,  *t  air  ball  dhhitg  e,  It  an  car  na  b^iate  chaidh  e ;  aeh 
*a  ann  an  tin  a  bha  *n  t-tlapartaich  *t  an  t-elapartaich,  raoiceil,  *t 
taoioeil  air  a  bh^L    Lean  iad  mar  to  re  Ulne  fade,  *t  mo  bheol  na 
h-oèdfache,  gbeàrr  e  *n  ceaon  eile  do  *n  bh^iat.  Choir  e  air  k  ghad  e  *t 
loom  e  air  main  an  eich  dhoibh,  *t  thog  e  *bhoacfaaÌlleadid  air.    Dfa* 
f  faaibh  oighean  an  rìgh  dhacfaaidfa  Ida  na  dan :  t^'f'mHr  an  Seana- 
lair  titfae  *t  thog  e  oaipe  na  dnn,  *t  thobhalrte  ritbe,  **  Oo  *m  Ibvnadh 


90  mm  HIGHLAND  TALUL 


l*<<iMitiiiiii  gtt  *m  y  Man  a  tlmg  an  cemn  do  *n  hMA  air  mi  vairio 
cnidaachd."    *  Co  eOa  a  thug  an  oeann  do  *n  bh^ist  ach  Urn?*  Chnirt 
iae.     Bàinif  iad  tigh  an  Agjtk  laii  nn  einn,  ach  *a  ann  an  rin  a  bhn 
*n  t-aoibhoeaa  '•  an  t-aigimr.     Ha  bhn  an  ligfa  aabhach  an  oeiid 
oidhche,  bhaa  nii  dnnteach  gn  *n  teàmadh  an  gaiageach  mòr  lo  a 
nighean,  *i  chn  robh  teagamh  aam  bith  nach  bitbeadh  an  oeann  eOa 
do  *n  bbtfiat  air  an  latlu  mUreacli.    Mn  'n  am  cheodna,  dh*  f  lialbh 
an  ditliifl  air  an  latha  *màireacb.     Dh*  f  baUich  an  t-oifigir  •  f(An 
mar  a  b-abhaist :  thug  oigbean  an  i)gfa  braaich  an  loch  oiira,  *a 
tbàinig  gaiageach  an  eieh  dhoibh,  *a  Inidh  e  ri*  taobh.    Dhhiig  i  *n  t- 
òlach  *a  chnir  i  duat-f  hail  'na  chinaia  eile  agna  ann  am  bad  na  bfiate 
gfaabh  0.    Ach  ma  bha  raoioeil,  ia  *iUoiceil  air  a  bheiatlSr  na  Ihith- 
aan  a  diaidh  aaachad,  *a  ann  an  diogh  a  blia  *n  t-uamliaa  oirre.    Ach 
ooma  CO  dliin,  thog  e  *n  treaa  oeann  do  *n  bh^iat,  *«  ma  thug  cha  b* 
ann  gun  apkim.    Tharming  e  ro  *n  ghad  e,  *«  dh*  f  lialbh  i  dhachaidh 
leia  na  chuu    'N  nair  a  rkinig  iad  tigh  an  righ,  blia  na  h-uilo  Ikn 
ghirdeachaa,  'a  bha  *n  SeanaUir  ri  nigliean  an  i^gh  phbaadh  air  an 
ath  latlia.    Blia  blumaia  h  dol  air  a  h-agluddh  *a  gach  neach  mn  *n 
Cliaiateal  *a  fadal  air  gua  an  d*  lliigeadh  an  aagairt    Ach  a  nuair  a 
thainig  an  aagairt,  cha  phlMadh  i  ach  an  neach  a  bheireadh  na  dnn 
do  *n  ghad  gun  an  gad  a  ghearradiL    "  Co  bheireadh  na  dnn  do  *n 
gliad,  ach  am  fear  a  chnir  na  dnn  air*/*  thubliairt  an  rigli.     Dh' 
f  bench  an  Seanalair  iad,  ach  cha  l)-urrainn  Cina  dnn  fhuaagladh; 
'a  mn  dheireadh,  cha  robh  a  h*aon  rou  *n  tigh  nach  d*  f  bench  ria*  na 
dnn  a  thoirt  do  *n  ghad,  ach  cha  b>nrrainn  iad.    Dh*  f  hoighneachd 
an  righ,  **  An  robh  neach  air  bith  eile  mu  'n  tigh  a  dh*  f  heuchadh 
ria  na  dnn  a  thoirt  bhar  a  ghaid.*'    Thubhairt  iad,  «  Nach  d'  f  heuch 
am  buAchaiUe  Ctthaat  iad.**    Chaidh  fiot  air  a*  bhuachaille,  *a  cha 
b*  fliada  blia  eaan  a  tilgeadh  fear  a  null  *a  a  nail  diubh.     "Ach 
fan  beagun  bganaich,**  arsa  nighean  an  righ  :  **  am  fear  a  thug  na 
dnn  do  *n  bhèlst,  tha  *m  fkinne  agam  aa  aige,  agua  mo  dhk  chlnaia- 
f  hail.**  Chuir  am  buachaille  *lkimh  *na  phbca,  '•  thilg  e  air  a  bhòrd 
iad.    "  S'-tuaa  mo  dhuhie-aa,**  arsa  nighean  an  i\gh.  Cha  robh  an  ligh 
cho  toilichte,  *n  uair  a  chnunaic  e  ga  *m  b'e  'bhuachaille  a  bha  ri*  nigh- 
ean a  phbaadh;  ach  dh*  òrdulch  e  gu  feum  t*  a  chur  ann  an  truagan 
ni  b*f  hearr.    Ach  labhalr  a  nighean,  *a  thubhairt  i,   "  Qun  robh 
truagan  alge  cho  rìomhach  *aa  bha  rianih  *na  cliabteal ;  agua  mur  ao 
thaduUr ;  chuir  am  buactiaille  deia*  òir  an  f  hamliair  air,  agua  phòa 
iad  air  an  oidhche  ain  fein. 

Bha  iad  a  nia  pòada  *a  na  h-uile  ni  dol  air  aghaidh  gu  maith.  Bha 
iad  aon  lath*  a  spalsdearachd  mu  thaobh  an  locha,  *8  thainig  b^t  a 
b-uamhaBalche  na  *n  te  die,  *a  thugar  air  falbh  e  gun  atbadh  gun 


A  MHÀIOHDBAN  MHARA.  9 1 

fMgliiiMclid.  Bha  nig  bean  «b  righ  •»  m  gn  dabhaeh,  denraeh, 
daUa-blirò&eh  air  ton  a  fear-poadA.  Bha  i  daonnan  *aa  ibU  air 
an  loch.  Thachair  teana  gliobha,  rithe,  *a  dh*  Innia  i  dha  mar 
tiiachair  da  ctfUe-poada.  ChomhairUch  aa  gobha  dbi  i  'igaoileadb 
gteh  n\  btt  bhrèagha  na  cb^a  anna  a  cbeart  biU  *ian  *d'  tbng 
a  bh^isi  air  lUbb  a  dofaie ;  agni  mar  to  rinn  i.  Cbnir  a  bb^iat 
•MM  A  iron,  *itbubhairt  i,  '«*Sbrèagb  *d' aBleaa  a  nigbean  an  i^be.** 
**8  brèagba  na  tin  an  t-billeagan  a  tbag  tba  nam,**  thnbbairt  laa. 
"Tboir  dbomb  aon  aealladb  do  m*  dbninc,  *i  gbdbb  tbn  aoo  ni  do 
BA  tba  tbu  *IÌAÌdnn.'*  Tbng  a*  bbtfist  anaa  a.  "  Aiaig  dbomb  t,  *a 
ghaibh  tba  na  tba  tbn  *faicinn,'*  ara*  iaa.  Rinn  a*  bb^at  mar  a 
thnbbairt  i ;  tbilg  i  boo  ilbn  a  air  bmacb  an  locba.  Ooirid  *aadbaigb 
and»  *a  iad  a  Brbidimeaebd  ri  taobb  an  locb,  tbng  a  bbtfiat  ebandna 
air  fiUbb  nigbean  an  i)gb.  Bn  blirbnacb  gacb  neacb  a  bbn  *aa 
bbaOo  air  an  oidhcba  ao.  Bba  a  dninagn  dnbliacb,  danraeb,  a*  ainblial 
Aoa  agna  anu  ma  bbmacban  an  locba  a  lalba  *a  do  db*  oidlicba. 
Tbacbair  an  aeana  gbobba  ria.  Db*  innia  an  gobba  dba,  Vacb 
robh  dòlgb  air  an  niie-bbeiat  a  mliarbliadli,  acb  aon  dbigb,  Agna  *a  a 
aÌB.  "  Anna  an  dlean  *tlia  am  meadbon  an  lodia  tlia  ailid  diaiafbionn 
aa  caoila  eaa  *a  aa  laaitba  oenm,  agna  g«  do  radiadb  beirsinn  cint^ 
lavmadb  feannag  aiada^  agna  gad  a  radiadb  beirainn  air  an  fliaannag, 
lawmadb  breao  aiada ;  acb  tlia  nbb  am  baol  a  blirie,  agua  tba  anam 
aa  btfista  *ian  nbb  *a  ma  bbrittaaa  an  t-nbb,  tba  a*  bb^iat  marbb.** 
Hia  dia  robb  dbigh  air  faotainn  do  *n  dlaan  ao»  blio  *n  cbairaadb  a 
bhdiat  foidb  gadi  bata  *a  gacb  rklh,  a  radiadb  air  an  looh.  Smadn- 
idi  a  gtt  *m  faudiadb  a  *n  Caolaa  a  laum  Ida  an  aaeh  dbnbh, 
agna  mar  to  f  liain  rinn  a.  Laam  an  t-eacb  dabb  an  Caolaai  *a  aa 
Ob  dabb  la  aon  lanm  aa  aa  d^b.  Cbnnnaie  a*  n  allid,  *a  Idg  a  *a 
eb  dnbb  *na  d^b»  acb  an  nair  a  bbiodb  aa  cb  dr  aon  taobb  do  *n 
aOaaa  bbiodb  an  eOid  dr  an  taobb  eila.  *0I  ba  mbatb  a  nto 
BMdadb  mòr  na  doadcha  feòla  an  ao.**  Cba  Indtba  *labbair  a  *m 
fiwd  na  bha  *m  madadb  cbir  rf  tbaobb,  agna  an  d^b  na  b-dlid 
gliabh  a  *a  cba  b*  f  bada  *bba  na  ladcb  ga  cair  ri  tdamb ;  acb  cba  bn 
Inaiilia  a  rag  a  drra,  na  laam  feannag  aiade ;  **  *8  aon  a  nia  a  ba 
mbatb  an  t-«eobbag  ghlaa  aa  gdre  aafl  *a  la  Ibidira  agiatb.**  Cba 
Indtbe  tbnbhairt  a  ao,  na  btia  *n  t-aaobbag  aa  d^gb  *oa  faannaig,  *a  cba 
V  f  bada  *btia  i  ga  cnir  ri  taUmh ;  agna  air  tnJCwim  do  *n  f  baannaig  dr 
bmacb  an  locba,  a  macb  aisde  leomtar  am  breac  *  O  t  nacb  robb  tbna* 
agamaa  a  nix,  a  dhobbraio.**  Cba  laaitb*  tbabhairt  na  bha  *n  dobhran 
ri  tbaobb,  afnu  a  raacb  dr  an  loch  leain  i,  *•  tbagar  am  braac  a  maadbon 
an  loch ;  Acb  dia  laaitlia  blia  *n  dòran  air  tir  laia  a  bbreao  na  tliainig 
aa  t-abb  a  macb  aa  a  blieal.    Gbrad  lanm  aaan,  *a  cbdr  a  *cbaa  air. 


gz  wnr  hiqhland  taueb. 

'Sana  tntia  ftldgfttli«rtraoieAÌsdt»'ttlinblMÌrtl,  "Ntbriitai 
tnUih,  *•  gheibh  thii  na  dh' Urns  tn."  **  Aitig  dhòahM  mo  blMftn." 
Ann  ftm  priobtma  lUU  bhA  i  ri  *UiaoblL  "Nvalr  afluiftir  •  gniai 
air  a  lafanh  'na  dha'  làimh,  kig  a  chaa  air  aa  nbh,  '•  bhkiairii  a 
bh^at.  Bha  'bhelat  marith  a  nia,  agna  *aaiiii  a  nia  a  bha  *n  wllidh 
ri  fliairinn.  Bha  i  wamhaMrh  ri  Mallfainn  oim^  bha  na  tri  diÌBB  di 
gnn  taagamh,  ach  na  bha»  bha  oaann  m  caann  chaann  oirra^  agna 
aiiilaan,  'a  cnig  eaad  caa.  Coma  oo  dhio,  dh*  fhàg  iad  ann  a  *aad  i,  *a 
diaidh  iad  dharhaidh.  Bha  lòka  ia  gàirdaachai  ann  an  tigfa  aa  rtgh 
air  an  oldheba  •<>»  *a  cha  d*  innia  a  do  *n  i^h  gu  >o  mar  a  n^liaibh  a 
aa  fiunhairean.  Choir  aa  i^h  nrram  mòr  air,  'a  bha  a  'aa  dliuiaa 
Biteaigan  rìglL 

Bha  a  faiu  'a  a'  bhaaa  a'  aràidimaadid  aon  latlia,  *a  aair  a  tlmg 
a  fidnaar  caittaal  beag  ri  taobh  an  lodi,  ann  an  coUla.  Dh*  fhar- 
raid  a  do  *n  mhnaol.  Co  bha  gabhail  còmhnuidh  ann  ?  **  Thabli- 
airt  i  naeh  robh  naadi  air  bith  a*  dol  a  choir  a  chaiataail  nd,  blio 
nach  d*Uiainig  naach  air  aia  fnt^nt  a  rhajdh  finn  a  dh*  innaaadh 
•gehfl.**  *'Cha*nfhandachbiaabhimarfin,**ara'aaan;  "anodid 
fdn  chi  mi,  CO*  tha  gabhail  conhnuidh  ann."  "Chad*  theid, chad* 
thaid,**  thubhairt  iaa,  '^dia  daach  daina  riamh  do  *n  chaiitaal  ao  a 
pUU  air  aia."  "  Biodh  ain  *a  a  roghainn  aige,"  ara*  eaan.  Dh* 
fhalbh  %  agaa  gabhar  do  *n  chairteal  *a  noair  a  rhinig  a  *n  doma, 
thachair  cailleach  bheag,  bhrosgulach  ris  *na  aeaaamh  Mn  donu. 
*  Fnran  *a  Cailta  dhoit,  a  mhic  an  iaagair  *8  mi  (iin  a  tha  toQichta 
t*  fhaicinn ;  *a  mòr  an  onair  do  *n  i)oghachd  lo  do  leithid  a  thighinn 
innta ;  *«  nrram  do  *n  bhothan  bheag  ao  thu  thighinn  a  atigh ;  gabh 
a  itigh  air  thoiaaach,onair  na  h-oaiale,  *a  leig  t'  anail  :**  'la  ateach  ghabh 
a;  ach  a  anair  a  bha  a  air  U  dol  anaa,  tharming  i  an  alacan-dmidh- 
aadid  air  an  chl  a  chinn,  *a  air  ball  thoit  a  *n  ain.  <*  Air  an  oldhcha 
ao  bha  bròn  ann  an  caiataal  an  r)gh  agua  air  an  latha  mhireach  Uia 
tuiroadh  ann  an  Ugh  an  iaagair.  Chuunacaa  a  diraobh  a  aoargadh 
'a  thabhairt  mac  maadhonach  an  iaagair,  **  gu  *n  robh  a  bhràthar 
marbh,"  *a  thug  a  bòid  ia  briathar  gu  falbhadh  e  a  gu  *m  biodh  fioa 
aiga  caif  an  robh  Corp  a  bhrkthar  na  luidhe.  Chuir  a  dioUaid  air 
each  dabh,  *a  mharcaich  è  an  dèigh  a'  choin  duibh  (oir  bha  eadi  dnbh 
'a  ch  dubh  aig  trihir  mhac  an  iaagair)  agua  gun  dol  a  null  na  nail, 
laan  a  air  oeum  a  bhrkthair  bu  aina^  gua  an  drkinig  a  tigh  an  righ. 
Bha  a  ao  00  coltach  ri  'bhrkthair  *a  gu  *n  d*  ahaoil  le  nighean  an  ligh 
gu  *m  ba  dnina  fein  a  bh*  ann.  Dh*  fhan  a  *n  ao  *aa  chaiateal,  'a  dh* 
innia  iad  dha  mar  thachair  d'a  bhrkthair,  agua  do  chaiateal  beag  na 
eailliche  dh*  fheumadh  a  *dol  bog  na  cruaidh  mar  thachradh,  *a  do  *n, 
chaiateal  chaidh  e^  agua  oeart  mar  a  thachair  do  *n  bhrkthair  bn  aine. 


▲  MHAIOHDBAN  MHABA  93 

aunt  gaeh  dòigh  thaehair  do  *n  rnliae  mhetdhoiuidi,  *•  lo  aoo  bhoilla 
do  *n  Uflacan  dhruidhMfclid,  laag  a*  chailieacfa  e  na  ihinaadh  ri*  Uobh 
a  bhràthar.  Air  (kicÌDii  aa  dama  cnobh  a*  teargadh  do  mhae  hg  an 
la^gair  Chabhairi  c^  "Ou  'n  robh  a  nil  a  dhithia  bbràithraan  marbh, 
agw  gu*  fenmadh  fioa  a  bhi  aigetan  da  'm  bka  a  thàinig  orra.  Air 
amin  an  aich  dhoibb,  ghabh  e,  *•  lean  e  *n  ch  mar  a  rinn  a  bhràthair, 
agni  tigh  an  Agh  bboail  e  mn  *n  do  sUd  a.  *Se  *n  righ  bha  toll- 
Idita  f  haidnn,  acb  do  *n  cbaiftaal  dabh  (oir  *m  io  alnm)  eiia  Idgadh 
iad  %  ach  do  *n  chaittaal,  dh*  f  heomadh  e  doi,  *i  mor  rin  ràinig  a  *n 
cakleal.  *  FaOta  *•  ftaran  dboit  Mn,  a  mUe  an  iaigair,  'a  mi  tha 
toiIUcMatYbaidnn;gabhaitaach'ilaigt-aaafl,**Uiairtiaa.  '*'8tigh 
romham  Urn,  a  cfaailleach,  *•  coma  leara  lodal  a  molgh.**  **  Rach  a 
itaach  *a  duinneam  do  chbrahradb.  A*  aCaacii,  ghabh  a  chaÌDaaeh,  agna 
a  naalf  a  bha  chl  ria,  thamiing  a  a  ehlaidheamh  *i  apadar  a  eeann  dhl, 
ach  loom  an  daidhaamh  aa  a  lUmh,  'a  ghrad  mg  à  chaÌUcach  air  a 
eaann  la  a  da  làimh,  t  cuirear  air  a  h-amhaich  a  mar*  bha  a  roimha. 
Laom  an  eh  air  a  chaillich,  '1  bhnail  i  m  *madadh  Coir  laia  an  t- 
■lacan-dhmidheachd,  *•  Inidh  eaan  an  ain,  ach  chadaach  to  air  mhith- 
apadh  do 'nòlach,*!  an  aha  la  chaillich  gabhar  a.  Fhoairagi^imairan 
t-ahlacan-dhniidheachd,agiBlaaonbhiiillaam  mnUachadnn,bhairl 
talamh  ann  am  prioba  na  ihl.  Chaidh  a  baagan  air  aghaidh  aoai^  *a 
lycaar  a  dha  bhrhthair  na  *n  laidha  taobh  ri  taobh.  Thog  a  boilla 
do  gach  fear  dhiabh,  laia  an  t-alacan  dbmidbaachd  'a  air  an  ooia  bha 
lad.  Ach  *a  ann  an  to  a  bha  'n  apafll  bir  'a  airgid»  *a  gach  nl  bn 
laaehmhoire  nachòila  ann  an  eaialaal  na  oafflieha.  Thhinig  iad  air 
an  ab  do  thigh  an  righ,  *8  ann  an  ain  a  bha  *n  ghirdaachaa.  Bha  *n 
rtgh  a  IkM  lean,  agoa  chaidh  mac  ba  thine  an  iaigair  a  chrtinadh  *na 
ligh,  *t  dh*  f  ban  an  dlthlt  bhrhithraan  latha  *a  bUadhna  ann  an  tigh 
an  i\gh,  *fl  dh*  f  halbh  an  ditliit  a  nit  dhadiadh  la  br  *8  airgiud  na 
GailHche,  *e  gach  và  rtomhach  eile  'thog  an  i^gh  dhoibh ;  *t  mar  do 
ahnibhall  iad  naidh  tin,  tlia  iad  beo  gna  an  latha  *n  divgh. 

HsOTOn  UBQiniABT. 

3.  Another  Teraion  of  tbit  waa  toM  to  ma  in  Sonth  Uiat,  bj 
Jonv  MaoPhib,  aged  79,  in  September  1869. 

There  waa  a  poor  old  fiaber  in  Skjra,  and  bia  name  waa 
Duncan.  Ha  waa  out  fiahing,  and  the  aea-mniden  roee  at  tha 
aide  of  bia  boat,  and  aaid,  '*  Dnncan,  thon  art  not  getting  fith.'* 
They  had  a  long  talk,  and  made  a  bargain ;  plenty  of  fiah  for  bia 
firal  aon.    Dot  he  aaid,  "  I  haTO  none.*'    Then  tha  aea-m«idan 


94  Wnr  HIOHLAHD  TALB. 


guf  him  10010111109,  and  Mid,  •'GÌTe  this  to  th j  wife,  ood  tUt  to 
thjr  Buuro,  ood  thii  to  thjr  dog,  mod  thoy  will  ho?o  tlireo 
three  iboli,  aod  three  pope,'*  ood  lo  thej  hod,  ood  the  eldoot 
woe  loio.  Wheo  he  woo  elghteeo,  he  foood  his  mother  weepiog; 
ood  looroed  thot  he  helooged  to  the  mermoid.  **  Oh,"  ooid  ho, 
**I  will  go  where  there  ie  oot  a  drop  of  lolt  water."  80  ho 
moonted  ooe  of  the  horoeo  ood  weot  owojr.  He  0000  como  to  the 
oorcoeo  of  00  old  hone,  ood  ot  it  o  lion  (loon),  0  wolf  (motogollj), 
ood  o  folcon  (ebowog).  LodmiAa-iiADAAu  alloumi  SbIbhao 
or  SoooBAO. 

The  lion  opoko,  oad  tAo  ooked  him  to  divide  the  oorcoae.  .  He 
did  ao,  ood  each  thanked  him,  aod  said,  **  When  thoo  ort  in  need 
thiok  of  me,  aod  I  will  be  at  thj  aide  (or  tkau  wiU  he  a  Han,  a 
wo^,  or  a  falcon^  I  am  umeerUnn  which  he  wteatU),  for  we  wore 
bore  nnder  ■pella  till  some  one  abonld  divide  thia  carcaao  for  oa.** 

He  weot  on  hii  waj  and  became  a  king*a  herd.  He  went  to 
o  imitb  and  bade  him  make  him  an  iron  ataff.  He  made  three. 
The  two  first  boot,  the  third  did  well  enoogh.  He  went  a-herding, 
and  fouod  0  fine  grasa  park,  and  opened  it  and  went  in  with  the 
cattle.  FuATH  of  the  mtoo  beadi,  aod  aoTen  bompo,  ood  aeven 
necka,  came  and  took  lix  by  the  taili  and  went  awaj  with  them 
($0  Cacui  dragged  away  eow$  hy  the  tail),  **  Stop,"  said  the 
herd.  The  Fuath  woold  not,  lO  tbey  came  to  gripa.  Then  the 
fiaber*a  ion  either  thought  of  the  lion,  or  became  one,  bat  at  all 
ofenta  a  lion  aeized  the  giant  and  put  him  to  earth.  '*  Thine  ia 
my  lying  down  and  riaiog  up,"  said  he.  **  What  ii  thy  ransom  ?  " 
aaid  the  herd,  llie  giant  said,  **  I  have  a  white  filly  that  will 
go  through  the  skies,  and  a  wliito  dress ;  take  them."  And  the 
hard  took  oif  his  heads. 

When  he  went  home  they  had  to  aend  for  carpenters  to  make 
dbhea  for  the  milk,  there  was  so  much. 

Tbe  next  day  waa  the  same.  There  came  a  giant  with  the 
same  number  of  heads,  and  took  eight  cows  by  their  tails,  and 
alung  them  on  his  back.  The  herd  and  tbe  wolf  (or  aa  a  wolf) 
boat  him,  and  got  a  red  filly  that  could  fly  through  the  air,  and  a 
red  dress,  and  cnt  off  tbe  heads.  And  there  were  atill  more 
carpenters  wanted,  there  was  so  much  milk. 

The  third  day  came  a  still  bigger  giant  and  took  nine  cows, 
and  tbe  herd  a«,  or  wUh  a  falcon,  beat  him,  and  got  a  green 


THB  SBA-MAIBKN.  95 

illj  tint  woald  go  throogh  tii«  tkj,  and  t  "green  dren,  apd  ent 
Ut  headf  off,  and  there  wm  more  milk  than  OTer. 

On  the  foarth  daj  came  the  Carlin,  the  wife  of  the  lait  giant, 
and  mother  of  the  other  two,  and  the  fisher's  son  went  np  into  a 
tree.  "  Gome  down  tiU  I  eat  thee/*  said  she.  *' Not  I/;  said  the 
iMrd.  *'  Thoa  hast  kiHed  mj  hnshand  and  my  two  sons,  coma 
down  till  I  eat  thee/'  **  Open  thy  month,  then,  till  I  jnmp 
down,**  said  the  herd.  80  the  old  Carlin  opened  her  gab,  and  he 
thmst  the  iron  staff  down  her  throat,  and  it  came  oni  at  a  mole  on 
her  hreast  [tkU  ii  like  the  mote  of  the  Oruagaeh  im  No.  1],  and 
sIm  fell.  Then  he  sprang  on  her,  and  speke  as  before,  and  got  a 
badn,  and  when  he  washed  himself  in  it,  he  wonld  be  the  moel 
beantifnl  man  that  was  sTor  seen  on  earth,  and  a  fine  silrer  eomh, 
and  it  wonld  make  him  the  grandest  man  in  the  world ;  and  he 
UDed  the  Carlin  and  went  home. 

[80  far  this  offreee  almoet  txadly  wUh  the  next  vonion^  hd 
there  i$  a  giant  added  here  and  a  eoaree  eomb  left  aid]. 

When  the  fisher*s  son  came  home,  there  was  sorrow  in  the 
kbg's  house,  for  the  Dratgav  was  come  from  the  sea.  ETerj 
time  he  came  there  was  some  one  to  be  eaten,  and  this  time  the 
lot  had  lallen  on  the  king's  daughter. 

The  herd  said  that  he  woald  go  to  fight  the  draygan,  and  the 
king  said,  "  No :  I  cannot  spare  my  herd."  80  the  king's  daughter 
had  to  go  alone.  [  The  ineideni  of  the  eowardiff  knight  ie  here  Ufi 
Md.]  Then  the  herd  came  through  the  air  on  the  white  filly, 
with  the  white  dress  of  the  Fuath.  He  tied  the  filly  to  the 
branch  of  a  tree  and  went  where  the  king's  daughter  was,  and 
laid  his  head  in  her  Up,  and  she  dressed  his  hair,  and  he  slept. 
When  the  draygan  came  she  woke  him,  and  after  a  serere  battle 
he  out  off  one  head,  and  the  draygan  said,  "  A  hard  fight  to- 
morrow," and  went  away.  The  herd  went  off  in  the  white  filly, 
and  in  the  eTeniog  asked  about  the  battle,  and  heard  his  own 
story.  Next  day  was  the  same  with  the  red  filly  and  the  red 
dress,  and  the  draygan  said,  '*  The  last  fight  to-morrow,"  and  he 
disappeared.  On  the  third  day  she  scratched  a  mark  on  his  fore- 
head when  his  head  was  in  her  Up :  he  killed  the  draygan,  and 
when  he  asked  about  it  all,  there  was  great  joy,  for  now  the 
draygan  was  dead.  Then  the  king's  daughter  had  the  whoU  king- 
dom gathered,  and  they  took  off  their  head  clothes  as  they  passed, 


96  WS8T  HIGHLAKD  TALES. 

but  tkM«  WMi  uu  mark.  Ilieii  they  bethought  them  of  the  dirty 
herd,  and  when  he  came  he  would  not  put  off  hie  head  gear,  hut 
ahe  made  him,  and  law  the  mark,  and  aaid,  '*  Thou  mighteat  have 
a  better  dresa."  He  used  hia  magic  comb  and  baain,  and  put  on 
a  dreaa,  and  waa  the  grandeat  in  the  company,  and  thejr  married. 
It  fell  out  that  the  king'a  daughter  longed  for  dnlae,  and  he  went 
with  her  to  the  ahore  to  leek  it.  The  aea-maiden  roee  up  and 
took  him.  She  waa  aorrowful,  and  went  to  the  aoothaayer  and 
learned  what  to  do. 

And  ahe  took  her  harp  to  the  lea  ahore  and  aat  and  played, 
and  the  aea-maiden  came  up  to  liiten,  for  aea-maidena  are  fonder 
of  muiio  than  any  other  creaturei,  and  when  ahe  aaw  the  aea- 
maiden  ihe  ftopped.  The  lea-maiden  aaid,  **  Play  on ;"  but  ahe 
aaid,  '*  No,  till  I  aee  my  man  again."  80  the  aea-maiden  put  up 
hii  head.  (  What  do  you  metm  f  Out  of  her  mouth  to  he  $ure. 
She  had  iwailowed  kUn.)  She  played  again,  and  atopped,  and 
then  the  tea-maiden  put  him  up  to  the  waiat.  Then  ahe  played 
again  and  atopped,  and  the  aea-maiden  placed  him  on  her  palm. 
Tlien  he  thought  of  the  falcon,  and  became  one  and  flew  on  ahore. 
But  the  aea-maiden  took  the  wife. 

Then  he  went  to  the  aoothaayer,  and  he  aaid,  '*I  know  not 
what  to  do,  but  in  a  glen  there  ia  Tarbh  vimh,  a  hurtful  bull, 
and  in  the  bull  a  ram,  and  in  the  ram  a  gooae,  and  in  the  gooae 
an  egg,  and  there  ia  the  aoul  of  the  aea-maiden." 

Then  he  called  on  hia  three  creatures,  and  by  their  help  got 
the  gooae,  but  the  egg  fell  out  in  the  loch. 

Then  the  lion  aaid  §he  knew  not  what  to  do,  and  the  wolf  aaid 
the  aame.  The  falcon  told  of  an  otter  in  an  ialand,  and  flew  and 
aeized  her  two  ouba,  and  the  otter  dÌTcd  for  the  egg  to  aaTo  her 
cube.  He  got  hia  wife,  and  daahed  the  egg  on  the  atonea,  and  the 
mermaid  died.  And  they  aeut  for  the  fiaher  and  hia  aona,  and 
the  old  mother  and  brothera  got  part  of  the  kingdom,  and  they 
were  all  happy  and  lucky  after  that. 

I  aakcd  if  there  waa  anything  about  one  brother  being  taken 
for  the  other  and  the  naked  aword,  and  waa  told  that  the  incident 
waa  in  another  atory,  aa  well  aa  that  of  the  withering  of  the  three 
treea.  Theae  incidenta  were  in  the  Teraion  of  the  atable  boy ; 
and  aa  they  are  in  Mackenzie' a,  they  probably  belong  to  the  atory 
aa  it  waa  known  in  Argyllahire. 


TBI  SBA-MAIBIN.  97 

8.  Another  Ternon  of  thii  wh  told  in  April  1859,  hj  John 
ICncGibbon,  a  l«d  who  wm  rowing  me  aoroM  Loch  I^e,  from 
St.  Katharine*!  to  InTerar/ ;  he  said  be  had  heard  it  from  an  old 
man  li?ing  near  Lochgilphead,  who  could  tell  many  ftoriea,  and 
knew  part  of  the  history  of  the  Feine. 

The  hero  was  the  eon  of  a  widow,  the  yonngeat  of  ten ;  black- 
skinned  and  rough  **  carrach."  He  went  to  leek  his  fortune,  and 
after  adTentores  somewhat  like  those  of  the  heroes  in  the  other 
▼ernons,  he  became  like  them  a  king's  herd,  and  was  in  like 
manner  beset  by  giants  who  claimed  the  pasture.  Each  fight 
was  preceded  by  a  long  and  curious  parley  across  a  ditch.  The 
giants  got  larger  each  day,  and  last  of  all  came  the  wife  of  one, 
and  mother  of  the  other  two,  who  was  worst  of  alL 

He  got  spoil  from  each,  which  the  conquered  giant  named  as 
his  ransom,  and  which,  as  usual,  the  herd  took  after  killing  his 
lot.  From  the  mother  he  got  a  *'  golden  comb,  and  when  he 
oombed  his  hair  with  the  fine  side,  he  was  lo?ety,  and  when  be 
oombed  it  with  the  coarse  side,  he  was  hideous  again,**  and  a 
magic  basin  which  made  him  beautiful  when  he  washed  in  it. 
And  he  got  wonderful  arms,  and  dresses,  and  horses  from  the 
giants. 

Then  the  king's  daughter  was  to  be  gÌTcn  to  a  giant  with 
three  heads  who  came  in  a  ship.  When  he  leaped  on  shore,  he 
buried  himself  to  the  waist,  he  was  so  heaTy.  The  herd  was 
asleep  witli  his  head  in  the  lap  of  the  princess,  and  dressed  in  the 
giant*s  spoil,  combed  with  the  fine  gold  comb,  and  washed  in  the 
magic  basin,  and  beautiful,  but  ne?ertheless  the  princess  dressed 
his  hair. 

He  was  awakened  each  day  by  biting  a  joint  off  his  little 
fingei^-outtiog  a  patch  from  the  top  of  his  head — and  a  notch  from 
his  ear.  Each  day  he  cut  off  a  head,  and  the  giant,  when  he 
leaped  from  the  ship  on  the  third  day,  only  sunk  to  his  ancles  in 
the  sand,  for  he  had  lost  two  heads. 

The  third  bend  jumped  on  again  as  fast  as  it  was  cut  of!^  but 
at  lapt,  by  the  adrice  of  a  hoodie,  the  cold  steel  of  the  sword  was 
held  on  the  neck  till  the  marrow  frose,  and  then  the  giant  was 
kOled,  and  the  herd  disappeared  as  usual. 

A  redheaded  lad,  who  went  to  guard  the  princess,  ran  away 
sod  hid  himself,  and  took  the  credit  each  day,  but  he  could  not 

H 


9^  WBfirr  HTOHLAND  TAUES. 

iiiiti«  the  knota  with  which  th«  heads  were  hound  together  on     • 
a  withjr  hj  the  herd.    Then  when  all  the  kingdom  had  heen 
gathered,  the  herd  waa  aent  for,  hat  he  would  not  come,  and  be 
bonnd  three .partiea  of  men  who  were  aent  to  bring  him  hjr  force. 

At  laat  he  waa  entreated  to  come,  and  came,  and  waa  recog- 
nised hj  the  marka,  and  then  he  combed  his  hair,  and  waahed  in 
the  magic  baain,  and  dreaaed  in  the  giant*a  spoils,  and  he  married 
the  princeaa,  and  the  Gille  Bnadh  waa  hanged. 

Here  the  atorj  ended,  but  ao  did  the  paaaage  of  the  feny. 

4.  I  haTe  another  Torsion  written  bj  Hector  Maclean,  from 
the  dictation  of  a  woman,  B.  Macaskill,  in  the  small  island  of 
Bemeray,  Aug.  1859.— Mac  ▲  Qhobba,  The  Smith's  Son. 

A  smith  takea  the  place  of  the  old  fisherman.  The  mermaid 
rises  beside  his  boat,  geta  the  promise  of  the  son,  and  sends  him 
fish.  (7%e  three  mytUrioui  graim  are  amiUed),  One  son  is 
bom  to  tho  fisher,  and  the  uiorroaid  lots  him  remain  till  he  is 
fourteen  yoara  of  age. 

BiiA  '«  oiLLB  *«  80  ono  Mos  AW  OBAumr  «AH  OBrrflim  nuADiniA 
duo!    Cbakobh  LsmnD  ■■  fhaiohiv  cno  Mon  *a  cho  oakbr 

'a  OBO  FOGHAnrTBACH  BIS. 

The  lad  waa  now  so  big  at  the  end  of  the  14  yean !  His 
like  waa  not  to  be  found,  so  big,  so  rugged,  so  formidable  as  he. 

Then  he  asked  his  father  not  to  go  in  the  wind  of  the  shore 
or  the  sea,  for  fear  the  mermaid  should  catch  him,  and  to  make 
him  a  staff  in  which  there  should  be  nine  stone  weight  of  iron  ; 
and  he  went  to  seek  his  fortune.  His  father  made  him  the  staff, 
and  he  went,  and  whom  should  he  meet  but  madadh  buadh 

the  fox,  MADADH   ALLUIDR  the  Wolf,  A0D8  AH   FHBAHHAO.  and  the 

hoodie,  AGU8  OTRAiflo  AOA  OA  h'ithbadr,  and  eating  a  year  old 
sheep.  He  divided  the  sheep,  and  the  creatures  promised  to  help 
him,  and  he  went  on  to  a  castle,  where  be  got  himself  employed 
aa  a  herd,  and  was  sent  to  a  park ;  *'  no  man  ever  came  alive  out 
of  it  that  ever  went  into  it.*'  \ 

A  big  giant  came  and  took  away  ono  of  tlio  oows,  and  then 
(Sahaid)  a  fight  began,  and  the  herd  was  undermost,  aqus  db 

BIBB  AM  BOAOUAILL'  AOII  OUIMRNBACHADH  AlB  A  MIIADADH 
ALLUIOH    AGUa   OHBAD I     BRA    'm    BUAOHAILL     AB    AIBD    AOUa   AM 

roAMRAiB  roDHA  Aous  MHABBB  B  'm  fuamhair,  and  what  did  the 


THB  8BA-1CAIDKN.  '  99 

herd  bot  rraiemW  the  wolf,  and  ■wiftl  th«  herd  wm  above 
aad  the  giant  below,  and  he  killed  the  giant,  and  went  home  with 
the  cattle,  and  his  maater  said  to  the  eavaohagav,  *'  Oh,  be  good 
to  the  herd.**  (The  $pùd,  the  dn$9€»,  and  the  haneee  are  here 
€0  left  out).  The  aecond  day  it  wac  the  lame,  and  he  again 
thought  of  the  wolf,  and  oonqnered  after  he  waa  down. 

I1ie  third  daj  it  wac  again  the  aame.  On  the  foarth  daj 
Cailliioh  mbok  a  great  carlin  came.  Thej  fonght,  and  he  wai 
nndermoet  again,  bot  thooght  of  the  wolf  and  waa  op.    Baì  Aa 

00  ORK>N«  A  CrAILLBACH  ABB  AM  BUAOHAILLB  DB*  T*  BIBIG.  ?* 

"  Death  on  thy  top,  Carlin,*'  said  the  herd, "  what  *a  thjr  Talne  f  * 
**  That  is  not  little,*'  laid  the  Carlin,  '*  if  thoa  getteet  it.  I  have 
throe  TBUVOAVWAV  (an  Englieh  word  wUh a  OaeUcplmral)  foil  of 
iihrer.  lliere  ia  a  trunk  under  the  foot-board,  and  two  othen  in 
the  upper  end  of  the  caatle.**  ''Though  that  be  little,  ita  mjr 
•WB,**  laid  be  aa  he  killed  her. 

On  the  morrow  the  king*a  daughter  waa  to  go  to  the  great 
beaat  that  waa  on  the  loch  to  be  killed,  and  what  ahould  the  herd 
do  but  draw  the  cattle  that  way,  and  he  laid  his  head  in  her  lap 
and  slept,  but  first  told  the  lady,  when  she  saw  the  loch  trembling, 
to  take  offajoint  of  his  little  finger.  She  did  so.  He  awoke,  thought 
of  the  fox,  and  took  a  head,  a  hump,  and  a  neck  off  the  beast,  and 
he  went  away,  and  no  one  knew  that  he  had  been  there  at  alL 
Naxt  day  waa  the  same,  but  he  had  a  patch  cut  from  his  head. 

The  third  day  she  took  off  the  point  of  his  ear,  he  awoke,  was 
again  beaten  by  the  beast,  thought  of  the  fox,  and  was  upper- 
most, and  killed  the  beast  (s*  bba  i  ba  loor  unen  b*  uaib  a 
MHABBR  B  i)  Bud  sho  WBS  B  freah  water  lake  when  he  had  killed  her. 

(The  cowardly  general,  or  hUghi^  or  iad,  or  eervanlfie  herel^ 
0¥i.)  Then  the  king's  daughter  gave  out  that  she  would  marry  the 
man  whose  finger  fitted  the  joint  which  she  had  cut  off  and  kept  in 
her  pocket.  ETsrybody  came  and  cut  off  the  points  of  their  little 
fingers,  but  the  herd  staid  away  till  it  waa .  found  out  by  the 


•  EiBio,  a  fine  for  bloodshed,  a  ransom.  Fine  anciently  paid 
for  the  murder  of  any  person.  Seoiiieh  Lawe  Begiam  Ma- 
jeeUm:  (Armstrong  die.)  Tibs  Lawe  of  the  Brete  and  Seote, 
in  which  every  one  was  ralued  according  to  his  degree  (Innea's 
"  Sootlaod  in  the  Middle  Ages'*). 


lOO  WB8T  HIGHLAND  TALB8. 

dMrjmaidfl  that  he  wanted  the  joint,  end  then  he  came  and 
married  the  lady. 

After  they  were  married  thej  went  to  walk  by  the  shore,  and 
the  mermaid  rose  and  took  him  away.  **  It  is  long  since  thon 
wart  promised  to  me,  and  now  I  haTe  thee  perforce,"  said  she.  An 
old  woman  advised  the  lady  to  spread  all  her  dresses  on  the 
beach,  and  she  did  so  in  the  oTening,  and  the  mermaid  came,  and 
for  the  dresses  gate  back  her  companion,  **  and  they  went  at  each 
other's  necks  with  joy  and  gladness." 

In  a  fortnight  the  wife  was  taken  away,  '*and  sorrow  was  not 
sorrow  till  now — the  lail  lamenting  his  wife."  He  went  to  an  old 
man,  who  said,  **  There  is  a  pigeon  which  has  laid  in  the  top  of  a 
tree;  if  thou  couldst  find  means  to  break  the  egg  ahail,  the 
breath  of  the  mermaid  is  in  it.'*    SMAOiimoH  ■  Ain  am  fhsav- 

MAIO  'a  OHAIOR  B  MA  rHBAHHAIO  's  LBOM  B  QO  BABB  BA  OBAOIBHB. 

He  thought  on  the  hoodie,  and  he  became  a  hoodie  (went  into  hÌM 
koodU),  and  he  sprang  to  the  top  of  the  tree,  and  he  got  the  tgg, 
and  he  broke  the  egg,  and  his  wife  came  to  shore,  and  the  mer- 
maid was  dead. 

It  is  worth  remarking  the  incidents  which  drop  out  of  the 
story  when  told  by  women  and  by  men.  Here  the  horses  and 
armour  are  forgotten,  but  the  faithful  lover  is  remembered.  The 
sword  is  a  stick,  and  the  whole  thing  saTours  strongly  of  the 
eTery-day  experience  of  the  Western  Isles,  which  has  to  do  with 
fishing,  and  herding  sheep  and  cattle.  It  is  curious  also  to  remark 
the  Tariations  in  the  incidents.  The  hero  seems  to  acquire  the 
qualities  of  the  creatures,  or  be  assisted  by  them. 

6.  I  haye  another  Torsion  from  Barra,  but  it  varies  so  much, 
and  haa  so  many  new  incidents,  that  I  must  give  it  entire,  if  at  all. 
It  most  resembles  MacQibbon*s  version.  It  is  called  am  't  iasoaib 
the  fisher,  and  was  told  by  Alexander  MacNeill,  fisherman. 

6. 1  have  a  sixth  version  told  by  John  Smith,  labourer,  living  at 
Pokhar  in  South  Uist,  who  says  he  learned  it  about  twenty 
yean  ago  from  Angus  Macdonald,  Balnish.  It  is  called  Am  qilm 
Qlab,  the  Qrey  lad.  He  Is  a  widow's  ion,  goes  to  seek  his  fortune, 
goes  to  a  smith,  and  gets  him  to  make  an  iron  shinny  (that  it  a 
koekey  ehtb),  he  becomes  herd  to  a  gentleman,  herds  cattle,  and  is 
beset  by  g^iants  whom  he  kills  with  his  iron  club ;  he  gathers  the 
skirt  of  his  grey  cassock  (which  ioohi  Uke  Odin),  he  gets  a  copper 


THE  Blà-MAIDKN.  lOI 

and  A  nlT«r  tad  a  golden  oatUe,  MrTnata  (or  iIatm)  of  Tsrions 
ooloor  and  appearance,  magio  whisUet,  horaea,  and  dreteea,  and 
rMonei  the  dangbter  of  the  king  of  Greece.  The  pari  of  the 
oowardlj  knight  ia  played  bj  a  red  headed  oook.  The  Unguage 
of  thia  II  carious,  and  the  whole  ferj  wild.  Unleat  gÌTen  entire, 
it  ia  epoUi. 

In  another  story,  also  from  Bemeraj,  the  incident  of  meeting 
three  creatures  again  ooonrs. 

There  is  a  Hon,  a  dove,  and  a  rat.    And  the  Hon  saya : — 

*'  What,  lad,  is  thy  notion  of  myself  being  in  each  a  place  as 
Una?" 

*'  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  haTe  no  notion,  bat  that  it  is  not  there 
the  Hke  of  yoo  ongbt  to  be ;  bat  aboat  the  banks  of  rÌTers." 

It  is  impossible  not  to  share  the  astonishment  of  the  Hon,  and 
bat  for  the  fact  that  the  rat  and  the  doTc  were  as  much  sarprised 
al  their  position  as  the  Hon,  one  would  be  led  to  suspect  thai 
Margaret  MacKinnon,  who  told  the  story,  felt  thai  her  Hon  was 
ooi  of  his  element  in  Bemeray.  StiU  he  is  there,  and  it  seems 
worth  inquiring  how  he  and  the  story  got  there  and  to  other 
strange  places. 

1st.  The  story  is  clearly  the  same  as  Shortshanks  in  Daaent*s 
Norse  Talcs,  1869-  Dut  it  is  manifest  that  it  is  not  taken  from 
thai  book,  for  it  could  not  bate  become  so  widely  spread  in  the 
islands,  and  so  changed  within  the  time. 

3d.  It  resembles,  in  some  pariicnUrs,  the  Two  Brothers,  the 
White  Bnake,  the  Nix  of  the  Mill  Pood,  the  BaU  of  Crystal,  in 
Grimm ;  and  there  are  similar  incidents  in  other  German  tales. 
These  bare  long  been  published,  but  I  ncTer  heard  of  a  copy  in 
the  west,  and  many  of  my  authorities  cannot  read.  It  is  only 
necessary  to  compare  any  one  of  the  Gaelic  Torsions  with  any  one 
German  tale,  or  all  together,  to  feel  certain  that  Grimm's  ooUec- 
iion  is  not  the  source  from  which  this  story  proceeded. 

8d.  A  story  in  the  latest  edition  of  the  Arabian  Nights  (Lane's, 
1839),  contains  the  incident  of  a  genius,  whose  Hfe  was  not  in  his 
body,  but  in  a  chest  at  the  bottom  of  the  Circumambient  Ocean, 
hat  that  book  it  expensÌTe,  and  quite  beyood  the  reach  of  peasants 
and  fishermen  in  the  west,  and  the  rest  of  the  story  is  different 

4th.  There  is  something  in  Sanscrit  about  a  fight  for  cattle 


I02  WIST  HIOHLAND  TALES. 

between  t  herd  and  some  gianti,  which  hoe  been  compared  with 
the  classical  story  of  Cacos. — (Mommsen's  Roman  History). 

5th.  I  am  told  that  there  is  an  Irish  **  fenian  "  story  which  this 
resembles.  I  hare  not  yet  seen  it,  but  it  is  said  to  be  taken  from 
a  Tery  old  Irish  MS.    (Ossianic  Society). 

6th.  It  is  clearly  the  same  as  the  legend  of  St.  George  and  the 
Dragon.  It  is  like  the  classical  story  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda, 
but  Pegasus  is  multiplied  by  three,  and  like  the  story  of  Hercules 
and  Hesione,  but  Hercules  was  to  have  six  horses.  On  the  whole, 
I  cannot  think  that  this  is  taken  from  any  known  story  of  any 
one  people,  but  that  it  is  the  Gaelic  Tersiun  of  some  old  myth. 
If  it  contains  something  which  is  distorted  history,  it  seems  to 
treat  of  a  seafaring  people  who  stole  men  and  women,  and  ga?e 
them  back  for  a  ransom,  df  a  wild  race  of  "giants  **  who  stole  cattle 
and  horses,  and  dresses,  and  used  combs  and  basins,  and  had 
grass  parks ;  and  another  people  who  had  cattle,  and  wanted 
pasture,  and  went  from  the  shore  tii  on  the  giants'  land. 

If  it  be  mythical,  there  is  the  egg  which  contains  the  life 
of  the  sea-monster,  and  to  got  which  beast,  bird,  and  fish,  earth, 
air,  and  water,  must  be  OTercoroe.  Fire  may  be  indicated,  for 
the  word  which  I  have  translated  Spindrift  lasair,  generally 
means  ylame. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  it  is  a  very  old  tale,  a  mixture  of 
mythology,  history,  and  everyday  life,  which  may  once  have  been 
intended  to  convey  the  moral  lesson,  that  small  causes  may  pro* 
dnco  great  effects ;  that  men  may  learn  from  brutes.  Couiiago  from 
the  lion  and  the  wolf.  Craft  from  the  fox.  Activity  from  the  falcon, 
and  that  the  most  despised  object  often  becomes  the  greatest. 
The  whole  story  grows  out  of  a  grain  of  seed.  The  giant's  old 
mother  is  more  terrible  than  the  giants.  The  little  flattering 
orone  in  the  black  castle  more  dangerous  than  the  sea  monster. 
The  herd  thought  of  the  wolf  when  he  fought  the  giants,  but  he 
thought  of  the  fox  when  he  slew  the  dragon.  I  can  but  say  with 
the  tale  tellers,  **  dh,  fhàg  mise  n'  siu  eud."  "  There  I  left  them," 
for  others  to  follow  if  they  choose.  I  cannot  say  how  the  story 
got  to  the  Highlands,  and  the  lion  into  the  mind  of  a  woman 
in  Bemeray. 


V. 
CONALL    CRA    BHUIDHE 

From  Jmdm  Wilaon,  blind  fiddler,  Itlaj. 

pONALL  CRA  BUUIDHfi  was  a  sioidy  tonant  in 
^'  Eirinn :  lio  had  four  bohb.  Tbore  wob  at  that  time  a 
king  OYor  every  fifth  of  £iriiin.  It  foil  out  for  the  children 
of  the  king  that  was  near  Conall,  that  they  themaelves  ^ 
and  tlio  children  of  Connll  came  to  hlowa  The  children 
of  Conall  got  the  upper  hand,  and  they  killed  the  king^s 
hig  son.  The  king  sent  a  message  for  Conall,  and  he 
said  to  him — ''  Oh,  Conall  1  what  made  thy  sons  go  to 
spring  on  my  sons  till  my  hig  son  was  killed  hy  thy 
diildron  ?  but  I  seo  that  though  I  follow  thee  revenge- 
fully, I  shall  not  be  much  the  bettor  for  it^  and  I  will 
now  set  a  thing  before  thee,  and  if  thou  wilt  do  it^  I 
will  not  follow  thee  with  revenga  If  thou  thyself,  and 
thy  sons,  will  get  for  me  the  brown  horse  of  the  king  of 
Lochlann,  thou  shalt  get  the  souls  of  thy  sons.**  "Why,** 
said  Conall,  "  should  not  I  do  the  pleasure  of  the  king, 
though  there  should  be  no  souls  of  my  sons  in  dread  at 
alL  Hard  is  the  matter  thou  requirest  of  me,  but  I 
will  lose  my  own  life,  and  the  life  of  my  sons,  or  else  I 
will  do  the  pleasure  of  the  king.** 

After  these  words  Conall  left  the  king,  and  he  went 
home:  when  he  got  home  he  was  under  much  trouble  and 
perplexity.  When  he  went  to  lie  down  he  told  his  wife 
the  thing  the  king  had  set  before  him.  His  wife  took 
much  sorrow  that  he  was  obliged  to  part  from  herself^ 


1 04  Wnr  HIGHLAND  TALIS. 

while  she  knew  not  if  she  should  see  him  moie.  "  Oh, 
Conall,"  said  she,  "  why  didst  not  thou  let  the  king  do 
his  own  pleasure  to  thy  sons,  rather  than  be  going  now, 
while  I  know  not  if  ever  I  shall  see  thee  morel"  When 
he  rose  on  the  morrow,  he  set  himself  and  his  four  sons 
in  order,  and  they  took  their  journey  towards  Lochlann, 
and  they  made  no  stop  but  (were)  tearing  ocean  till 
they  reached  it  When  tiiey  reached  Lochlann  they  did 
not  know  what  they  should  do.  Said  the  old  man  to 
his  sons — **  Stop  ye,  and  we  will  seek  out  the  house  of 
the  kin^s  miller." 

When  they  went  into  the  house  of  the  king^s 
miller,  the  man  asked  them  to  stop  there  for  the  night 
Conall  told  the  miller  that  his  own  children  and  the 
children  of  the  king  had  fallen  out^  and  tliat  liis 
children  had  killed  the  king^s  son,  and  there  was 
nothing  that  would  please  the  king  but  that  he  should 
get  the  brown  horse  of  the  king  of  Lochlann.  ''  K  thou 
wilt  do  me  a  kindness,  and  wilt  put  me  in  a  way  to  get 
him,  for  certain  I  will  pay  thee  for  it"  "  The  thing 
is  silly  that  thou  art  come  to  seek,"  said  the  miller ; 
**  for  the  king  has  laid  his  mind  on  him  so  greatly  that 
thou  wilt  not  get  him  in  any  way  unless  thou  steal 
him ;  but  if  thou  thyself  canst  make  out  a  way,  I  will 
hide  thy  secret"  "  This,  I  am  tliinking,"  said  Conall, 
"  since  thou  art  working  every  day  for  the  king,  tliat 
thou  and  thy  gillies  shoiUd  put  myself  and  my  sons 
into  five  sacks  of  bran."  "  The  plan  that  came  into 
thy  head  is  not  bad,"  said  the  miller.  The  miller 
spoke  to  liis  gillies,  and  he  said  to  them  to  do  this, 
and  they  put  them  in  five  sacks.  The  king*s  gillies 
came  to  seek  the  bran,  and  they  took  the  five  sacks 
with  them,  and  they  emptied  them  before  the  horses. 
The  servants  locked  the  door,  and  they  went  away. 

When  they  rose  to  lay  hand  on  the  brown  horse. 


OOiriLL  ORA  BHUIDHl.  IO5 

atid  ConaU, '<  Yoa  sluJl  not  do  that  It  ù  hazd  to  get 
oat  of  ÌbÌB ;  let  us  make  for  oaiselTes  five  hiding  holes, 
so  that  if  thej  peiceiye  ua  we  may  go  in  hiding.^ 
They  made  the  holes,  then  they  lidd  hands  on  the 
hona  The  hone  was  pretty  well  unbroken,  and  he 
set  to  making  a  terrible  noise  through  the  stable. 
The  king  perceived  him.  He  heard  the  noisa  "  It 
mnst  be  that  that  was  my  brown  horse,"  said  he  to  his 
gQlifiP  ;  ^  try  what  is  wrong  with  him.** 

Thè^senrants  went  ont^  and  when  Conall  and  his 
sons  perooived  thorn  coming  they  wont  into  the  hiding 
holes.  The  senrants  looked  amongst  the  horses,  and 
they  did  not  find  anything  wrong  ;  and  they  returned 
and  they  told  this  to  the  king,  and  the  king  said  to 
them  that  if  nothing  was  wrong  that  they  should  go  to 
their  places  of  rest  When  the  gillies  had  time  to  be 
gone,  Conall  and  his  sons  laid  the  next  hand  on  the 
horse.  If  the  noise  was  great  that  he  made  before,  the 
noise  he  made  now  was  seven  times  grater.  The  king 
sent  a  message  for  his  gillies  again,  and  said  for  certain 
there  was  something  troubling  the  brown  horse.  *'  Oo 
and  look  well  about  him.*'  The  servants  went  out^  and 
they  went  to  their  hiding  holes.  The  servants  rum- 
maged well,  and  did  not  find  a  thing.  They  returned 
and  they  told  this.  **  That  is  marvellous  for  me,"  said 
the  king :  ''  go  you  to  lie  down  again,  and  if  I  per- 
ceive it  again  I  will  go  out  myself.*'  When  Conall 
and  his  sons  perceived  that  the  gillies  were  gone,  they 
laid  hands  ag!un  on  the  horse,  and  one  of  them  caught 
him,  and  if  the  noise  that  tlie  horse  made  on  the  two 
former  times  was  great,  he  made  more  this  time. 

**  Be  this  from  met,**  said  the  king ;  "  it  must  be 
that  some  one  is  troubling  my  brown  horse."  He 
sounded  the  bell  hastily,  and  when  his  waiting  man 
came  to  him,  ho  said  to  him  to  set  the  stable  gillies  on 


io6  wnr  hiohijlnd  talks. 

foot  that  somdthing  was  wrong  with  the  horse.  The 
gillies  came^  and  the  king  went  with  them.  When 
Conall  and  his  sons  perceived  the  following  coming 
they  went  to  the  hiding  holes.  The  king  was  a  wary 
man,  and  he  saw  where  the  horses  were  making  a 
noisa  "  Be  clever,"  said  the  king,  "  there  are  men 
within  tlio  stable,  and  let  us  got  them  somehow.** 
The  king  followed  the  tracks  of  the  men,  and  ho  found 
tliom.  Every  man  was  acquainted  with  Conall,  for  ho 
was  a  valued  tenant  by  the  king  of  Eirinn,  and  when 
the  king  brought  them  up  out  of  the  holes  he  said, 
"  Oh,  Conall,  art  thou  here  1"  "  I  am,  0  king,  with- 
out question,  and  necessity  made  me  come.  I  am 
under  thy  pardon,  and  under  thine  honour,  and  under 
thy  grace."  He  told  how  it  happened  to  him,  and 
that  he  had  to  get  the  brown  horse  for  the  king  of 
Eirinn,  or  that  his  son  was  to  be  put  to  deatL  ''  I 
knew  that  I  should  not  get  him  by  asking,  and  I  was 
going  to  steal  hinu"  "  Yes,  Conall,  it  is  well  enougli, 
but  come  in,"  said  the  king.  He  desired  his  look-out 
men  to  set  a  watch  on  the  sons  of  Conall,  and  to  give 
them  meat.  And  a  double  watch  was  set  that  night 
on  the  sons  of  ConalL  ''Now,  0  Conall,"  said  the 
king,  "  wert  thou  ever  in  a  harder  place  Uian  to  bo 
seeing  thy  lot  of  sons  hanged  to-morrow  ?  Uut  thou 
didst  sot  it  to  my  goodness  and  to  my  grace,  and  that 
it  was  necessity  brought  it  on  thee,  and  I  must  not 
hang  thee.  Tell  me  any  case  in  which  thou  wert  as 
hard  as  this,  and  if  thou  tellest  that,  thou  shalt  get  the 
soul  of  thy  youngest  son  with  thea"  "  I  will  tell  a 
case  as  hard  in  wliich  I  was,"  said  ConalL 

''I  was  a  young  lad,  and  my  father  had  much 
land,  and  he  had  parks  of  year-old  cows,  and  one  of 
them  had  just  calved,  and  my  father  told  me  to 
bring  her  home.      I  took  with  me  a  laddie,  and  we 


hstD  li^u  nPEsr  w/ebl 
IT  dsod  I  MU9wiM  !■£  iir  ìit:ìig  for  liMBr  campnnr. 
'fitaike  vp  wHài  jmL  wna  ^»  hama  \mA,  *wbr  flkcvud 
V*  Ve  fltìll  t  md  sn^  a  cnmBi  w  GanaJl  CWSteiJ* 
I  w  nonBd  ifaitf  set  name  irv  kiipim  ic  làie  cate 

Winn  'àarrhmà  amipiaie  cnnaii.  and  tiie 
ÌHBvL  '  Xcnr,  O  Gcaall  par  1^  Rirard  cf  liie 
liati  Ibr  catf  fasw  aonc  to  Iàiml'  **  WcJL  tlMoi.' 
I  mvwàL  *  I  baiT  no  rrvnid  vkataciprer  iior  tk^ 
TD«  iàKmld  go  down  asd  take  Uiat  otàL'  Ka 
aaid  I  tbe  -arsd  tiian  tbe  t«t»  cala  aad  tea 
dcram  to  attach  Uie  caU  and.  in  tcxt  dead,  be 
did  Boi  laat  Ihem  kng.  'Flaj  vp  witk  rax  wlij 
Ac—Id  Ton  be  aknt  t  Make  a  otstuB  to  OoaaU 
CfB^Bbon,*  aaid  tbe  bead  banL  CertatnlT  I  bad  m 
likiaig  at  all  for  tbe  atnaii,  bat  «p  came  Ibe  one  oal 
aad  tea,  and  if  tliejdkl  DOt  si^g  aw  a  cxxman  ibenand 
Ibere  !  '  Pi j  tbeoi  now  tbeir  rewaid«*  aaid  tbe  grnd 
foz-ooknired  cat  'I  am  tiied  mTself  of  Ttmiailff 
and  jtior  rewards^*  aaid  L  '  I  bare  no  lewaid  for  3ftni 
imleai  joa  take  tbat  oow  down  tbera.*  Tbey  betook 
tbemaelreB  to  tbe  oow,  and  indeed  sbe  did  not  stand 
tbem  oat  for  k>ng. 

"  '  Why  will  yoa  be  silent  f  Go  ap  and  sing  a  cm- 
nan  to  Conall  Cra-Bhoi,*  said  the  bead  baid.  And 
aarelj,  oh,  king,  I  had  no  care  for  tbom  or  for  tbeir  ctt>- 
nan,  for  I  began  to  see  that  they  were  not  good  com- 
rades. When  they  had  song  me  the  cronan  they  betook 
tbeniselTes  down  where   the  head  bard  waa.     *  Wj 

•  Or  oommaadsrin-chitf. 


I08  Wnr  niQHLAND  TALK. 

now  their  rewaid,'  said  ibo  hoad  bard ;  and  for  sore, 
ob,  king,  I  bad  no  reward  for  Uiem ;  and  I  said  to  them, 
*  I  bave  no  reward  for  you,  unless  you  will  take  tbat 
laddie  witb  you  and  make  use  of  bim.'  Wben  tbe 
boy  beard  tbis  be  took  himself  out»  and  tbe  cats  after 
him.  And  surely,  oh,  king,  tliero  was  "  striongan  "  and 
catterwauling  between  them.  Wben  they  took  them- 
selves out^  I  took  out  at  a  turf  window  that  was  at  tbe 
back  of  tbe  house.  I  took  myself  off  as  hard  as  I 
might  into  the  wood.  I  was  swift  enough  and  strong  at 
tbat  time ;  and  when  I  felt  tbe  rustling  '  toirm'  of  tbe 
cats  after  me  I  climbed  into  as  high  a  tree  as  I  saw  in 
the  place,  and  (one)  that  was  close  in  the  top ;  and  I 
bid  myself  as  well  as  I  might  The  cats  began  to 
search  for  me  through  the  wood,  and  they  were  not 
finding  me ;  and  when  they  were  tired,  each  one  said 
to  the  other  that  they  would  turn  back.  '  But»*  said 
the  one-eyed  fox-coloured  cat  that  was  commander-in- 
chief  over  them,  'you  saw  him  not  with  your  two 
eyes,  and  though  I  have  but  one  eye,  there's  the  rascal 
up  in  the  top  of  the  tree.'  When  he  hod  said  tbat^ 
one  of  them  went  up  in  the  tree,  and  as  he  was  coming 
where  I  was,  I  drew  a  weapon  that  I  had  and  I  killed 
liim.  '  Be  this  from  me  ! '  said  the  one-eyed  one — '  I 
must  not  be  losing  my  company  thus ;  gather  round 
tbe  root  of  tbe  tree  and  dig  about  it,  and  let  down 
that  extortioner  to  earth.'  On  this  they  gathered 
about  her  (the  tree),  and  they  dug  about  her  root,  and 
the  first  branching  root  that  they  cut,  she  gave  a  shiver 
to  fall,  and  I  myself  gave  a  shout,  and  it  was  not  to  be 
wondered  at  There  was  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
wood  a  priest,  and  he  had  ten  men  with  him  delving, 
and  be  said,  '  There  is  a  shout  of  extremity  and  I  must 
not  be  without  replying  to  it.'  And  the  wisest  of  the 
men  said,  *  Let  it  alone  till  we  hear  it  again.'    The  cats 


CON  ALL  CBA  BHITIOHB.  IO9 

began,  and  they  began  wildly,  and  ihey  broke  the 
next  root ;  and  I  myself  gave  the  next  ^out,  and  in 
Teiy  deed  it  was  not  weiJL  '  Certainly/  said  the 
priest,  '  it  is  a  man  in  extremity — let  us  move.*  They 
were  setting  themselves  in  order  for  moving.  And  the 
cats  arose  on  the  tree,  and  they  broke  the  third  root, 
and  the  tree  fell  on  her  elbow.  I  gave  the  third  shout 
The  stalwart  men  hasted,  and  when  they  saw  how  the 
cats  served  the  tree,  they  began  at  them  with  the  spades ; 
and  they  themselves  and  Uie  cats  began  at  each  other, 
till  they  were  killed  altogether — the  men  and  the  cats. 
And  snrely,  oh  king,  I  did  not  move  till  I  saw  tlio  last 
one  of  them  falling.  I  came  homo.  And  there's  for 
thee  the  hardest  case  in  which  I  ever  was ;  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  tearing  by  the  cats  were  harder  than 
hanging  to-morrow  by  the  king  of  Lochlann. 

'*  Od  1  ConaU,**  said  the  king,  « thou  art  full  of 
words.  Thou  hast  freed  the  soul  of  thy  son  with  thy 
tale ;  and  if  thou  tellest  me  a  harder  case  than  thy 
throe  sons  to  be  hanged  to-monow,  ihou  wilt  get  thy 
second  youngest  son  with  tlioo,  and  tlion  thou  wilt 
have  two  sons.**  ''  Well  then,"  said  Conall,  **  on  condi- 
tion that  thou  dost  that,  I  was  in  a  harder  case  than 
to  be  in  thy  power  in  prison  to-night"  **  Let*s  hear,** 
said  the  king. — **  I  was  there,**  said  Conall,  "  as  a  young 
lad,  and  I  went  out  hunting,  and  my  fathei^s  land 
was  beside  the  sea,  and  it  was  rough  with  rocks,  caves, 
and  gQQ0.*  When  I  was  going  on  the  top  of  the  shore, 
I  saw  as  if  there  were  a  smoke  coming  up  between  two 
rocks,  and  I  began  to  look  what  might  be  the  meaning 
of  the  smoke  coming  up  there.  When  I  was  looking, 
what  should  I  do  but  fall ;  and  the  place  was  so  full 
of  manure,  that  neither  bone  nor  skin  was  broken.  I 
knew  not  how  I  should  get  out  of  this.     I  was  not 

*  RifU  or  cbasma,  where  the  tea  enters.  •/ 


I  lO  Wnr  HIGHLAND  TALia 

looking  before  me,  bat  I  was  looking  over  head  the 
way  I  came — and  the  day  will  never  tyome  that  I  could 
get  up  there.  It  was  terrible  for  me. to  be  there  till  I 
should  die.  I  heard  a  great  clattering  'tuameileis' 
coming,  and  what  was  there  but  a  great  giant  and  two 
dozen  of  goats  with  him,  an<l  a  buck  at  their  head. 
And  when  the  giant  had  tied  the  goats,  he  came  up 
and  he  said  to  me,  *  Ilao  0  1  Conall,  it*s  long  since  my 
knife  is  rusting  in  my  pouch  waiting  for  thy  tender 
flesh.'  'Ochl*  said  I,  'it*s  not  much  thou  wilt  be 
bettered  by  me,  though  thou  should*8t  tear  me  asunder ; 
I  will  miJce  but  one  meal  for  thee.  But  I  see  that 
thou  art  one-eyed.  I  am  a  good  leech,  and  I  will  give 
thee  the  sight  of  the  other  eye.'  The  giant  went  and 
he  drew  the  great  caldron  on  the  site  of  the  fire.  I  my- 
self was  telling  him  how  he  should  heat  the  water,  so 
that  I  should  give  its  sight  to  the  other  eye.  I  got 
heather  and  I  made  a  rubber  of  it»  and  I  set  him  upright 
in  the  caldron.  I  began  at  tiie  eye  that  was  well,  pre- 
tending to  him  that  I  would  give  its  sight  to  the  other 
one,  till  I  left  them  as  bad  as  each  other  ;  and  surely 
it  was  easier  to  spoil  the  one  that  was  well  than  to 
give  sight  to  the  other. 

"When  ho  'saw'  that  he  could  not  see  a  glimpse, 
and  when  I  myself  said  to  him  that  I  would  got  out  in 
spite  of  him,  he  gave  that  spring  out  of  the  water,  and 
he  stood  in  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and  he  said  that  he 
would  have  revenge  for  the  sight  of  his  eye.  I  had 
but  to  stay  there  crouched  the  length  of  the  night, 
holding  in  my  breath  in  such  a  way  that  he  might  not 
feel  where  I  was. 

"  When  ho  felt  the  birds  calling  in  the  morning,  and 
knew  that  the  day  was,  he  said — '  Art  thou  sleeping  ? 
Awake  and  let  out  my  lot  of  goata'  I  killed  the  buck. 
He  cried,  *  I  will  not  believe  that  thou  art  not  killing 


OONALL  dU  BHUII«&  III 

mj  bock.'  'I  am  not,'  said  I,  'bat  the  ropes  are  ao 
ti^t  that  I  take  long  to  loose  them.'  I  let  ont  one 
of  the  goats,  and  he  was  caiessing  her,  and  he  said  to 
her,  'There  thou  art  thou  shaggy,  hairy  white  goat,  and 
thoa  seest  me,  bnt  I  see  thee  not'  I  was  lotting  them 
oat  by  the  way  of  one  and  one,  as  I  flayed  the  back, 
and  before  the  last  one  was  out  I  had  him  flayed  bag 
wise.  Then  I  went  and  I  put  my  legs  in  place  of  his 
l^gs,  and  my  hands  in  place  of  his  fore  legs,  and  my  ^  \ 
liead  in  place  of  his  head,  and  the  horns  on  top  of  my  '  ',  ; 
head,  so  that  the  brate  might  think  that  it  was  the  r  * 
back.  I  went  out  When  I  was  going  oat  the  giant  f *.  ^  ^ 
laid  his  hand  on  me,  and  he  said,  '  lliore  thoa  art  thoa 
pretty  buck ;  thou  seest  me,  but  I  see  thee  not'  When 
I  myself  got  out,  and  I  saw  the  world  about  me,  surely, 
oh,  king  1  joy  was  on  me.  When  I  was  out  and  had 
shaken  the  skin  off  me,  I  said  to  the  brute,  '  I  am  out 
now  in  spite  of  thee.*  *  Aha  1  *  said  he,  *  hast  thou  done 
this  to  me.  Since  thou  wert  so  stalwart  that  thou  hast 
got  oat,  I  will  give  thee  a  ring  that  I  hare  here,  and 
keep  the  ring,  and  it  will  do  thee  good.'  '  I  will  not  \^' 
take  the  ring  from  thee,'  said  I,  *but  throw  it,  and  I 
will  take  it  with  me.'  He  threw  the  ring  on  the  flat 
ground,  I  went  myself  and  I  lifted  the  ring,  and  I  put  it 
on  my  finger.  When  he  said  me  then.  '  Is  the  ring  fitting 
thee  t '  I  said  to  him,  '  It  i&'  He  said, '  Where  art  thou 
ringf  And  the  ring  said,  'I  am  here.'  The  brute  went  and 
he  betook  himself  towards  where  the  ring  was  speaking, 
and  now  I  saw  that  I  was  in  a  harder  case  than  erer  I 
was.  I  drew  a  dirk.  I  cut  the  finger  off  from  me,  and 
I  threw  it  from  me  as  far  as  I  could  out  on  the  loch,  and  ^ 
there  was  a  great  depth  in  the  place.  He  shouted, 
'Where  art  thou,  ring?'  And  the  ring  said,  'I  am 
here,*  though  it  was  on  the  ground  of  oceaa  He  gare 
a  spring  after  the  ring,  and  out  he  went  in  the 


1 1 2  Wnr  HIGHLAND  TALIS. 

And  I  was  as  pleased  here  when  I  saw  him  drownings 
as  though  thou  shouldst  let  my  own  life  and  the  life 
of  my  two  sons  with  me,  and  not  lay  any  more  trouble 
on  me. 

*^  When  the  giant  was  drowned  I  went  in,  and  I 
took  with  me  all  he  had  of  gold  and  silver,  and  I  went 
home,  and  surely  great  joy  was  on  my  people  when  I 
arrived.  And  as  a  sign  for  thee^  look  thou,  the  finger 
is  off  me." 

"Yes,  indeed,  Conall,  thou  art  wordy  and  wise^** 
said  the  king.  "  I  see  thy  finger  iT'oK  Thou  fiiBt 
freed  thy  two  sons,  but  tell  me  a  case  in  which  thou 
ever  wert  that  is  harder  than  to  be  looking  on  thy  two 
sons  being  hanged  to-morrow,  and  thou  wilt  get  the 
soul  of  thy  second  eldest  son  with  thee." 

"  Then  wont  my  faUier,"  said  Conall,  "  and  he  got 
me  a  wife,  and  I  was  married.  I  went  to  hunt  I 
was  going  beside  the  sea,  and  I  saw  an  island  over  in 
the  midst  of  the  loch,  and  I  came  there  where  a  boat 
was  with  a  rope  before  her  and  a  rope  behind  her,  and 
many  precious  things  within  her.  I  looked  myself  on 
the  boat  to  see  how  I  might  get  part  of  them.  I  put 
in  the  one  foot,  and  the  other  foot  was  on  the  ground, 
and  when  I  raised  my  head  what  was  it  but  the  boat 
over  in  the  middle  of  Uie  loch,  and  she  never  stopped 
till  she  reached  the  island.  When  I  went  out  of  the 
boat  the  boat  returned  where  she  was  before.  I  did 
not  know  now  what  I  should  do.  The  place  was 
without  meat  or  clothing,  without  the  appearance  of  a 
house  on  it  I  raised  out  on  tlie  top  of  a  hilL  I  came 
to  a  glen ;  I  saw  in  it»  at  the  bottom  of  a  chasm,  a  woman 
who  had  got  a  child,  and  the  cliild  was  naked  on  her 
knee^  and  a  knife  in  her  hand.  She  would  attempt  to 
put  the  knife  in  the  throat  of  the  babe,  and  the  babe 
would  begin  to  laugh  in  her  face,  and  she  would  begin 


OCMTALL  ORà  BHUIDHB.  11$ 

to  07,  and  she  would  throw  the  knife  hehind  her.  I 
thought  to  m jBelf  that  I  was  near  my  foe  and  far  from 
mj  friends,  and  I  called  to  the  woman,  '  What  art  thon 
domg  hero  t'  And  she  said  to  me,  *  What  hronght  thee 
hero  t*  I  told  her  myself  word  upon  word  how  I  came. 
*  Well  then,'  said  she,  '  it  was  so  I  camo  also.'  She 
showed  me  to  the  place  whoro  I  should  oomo  in  whero 
she  was.  I  went  in,  and  I  said  to  her,  '  What  was  in 
fimlt  that  thou  wert  putting  the  knife  on  the  neck  of 
the  child.'  'It  is  that  he  must  he  cooked  for  the 
giant  who  is  here,  or  else  no  moro  of  my  world  will  he 
hefero  me.'  I  went  up  steps  of  stairs,  and  I  saw  a 
ehamher  full  of  stripped  corpsea  I  took  a  lump  out 
of  the  corpse  that  was  whitest^  and  I  tied  a  string  to 
the  child's  foot^  and  a  string  to  the  lump,  and  I  put 
the  lump  in  his  mouth,  and  when  it  went  in  his  throat 
he  would  give  a  strotch  to  his  leg,  and  he  would  take 
it  out  of  his  throat,  hut  with  the  length  of  the  thread 
he  could  not  take  it  out  of  his  mouth  I  cast  the  child 
into  a  bosket  of  down,  and  I  askod  her  to  cook  the 
oorpse  for  tlie  giant  in'  place  of  the  child.  *How 
can  I  do  that  f  said  she,  '  when  he  has  count  of  the 
corpses.'  'Do  thou  as  I  ask  thee,  and  I  will  strip 
myself^  and  I  will  go  amongst  the  corpses,  and  then  h« 
will  have  the  same  count,*  said  L  She  did  as  I  asked 
her.  We  put  the  corpse  in  the  great  caldron,  but  we 
could  not  put  on  the  lid.  When  he  was  coming  home 
I  stripped  myself,  and  I  wout  amongst  the  corpsea 
He  came  home,  and  she  served  up  the  corpse  on  a  great 
platter,  and  when  he  ate  it  he  was  complaining  tliat  he 
found  it  too  tough  for  a  child. 

"  '  I  did  as  thou  asked  me,'  said  she.  '  Thou  hadst 
count  of  the  corpses  thyself,  and  go  up  now  and 
count  them.'  lie  counted  them  and  he  had  them.  '  I 
see  one  of  a  white  body  there,'  said  he.     I  will  lie 

I 


^" 


114  Wnr  HIGHLAND  TALK. 

down  a  while  and  I  will  have  him  when  I  waka 
When  he  rose  he  went  up  and  gripped  me,  and  I 
never  was  in  such  a  case  as  when  he  was  hauling  me 
down  the  stair  with  my  head  after  me.  He  threw  me 
into  the  caldron,  and  he  lifted  the  lid  and  he  put  the  lid 
into  the  caldron.  And  now  I  was  sure  I  would  scald 
before  I  could  get  out  of  that  As  fortune  favoured 
me,  tlie  brute  slept  beside  the  caldron.  There  I  was 
scalded  by  the  bottom  of  the  caldron.  When  she  per- 
ceived that  he  was  asleep,  she  set  her  mouth  quietly  to 
the  hole  that  was  in  the  lid,  and  she  said  to  me  '  was  I 
aliva*  I  said  I  was.  I  put  up  my  head,  and  the  brute's 
forefinger  was  so  large,  that  my  head  went  through  easily. 
Everything  was  coming  easily  with  me  till  I  began  to 
bring  up  my  hips.  I  left  the  skin  of  my  hips  about 
the  mouth  of  the  hole,  and  I  came  out.  When  I  got 
out  of  the  caldron  I  knew  not  what  to  do ;  and  she 
said  to  me  that  there  was  no  weapon  that  would  kill 
^  him  but  his  own  weapon.  I  began  to  draw  his  spear, 
and  every  breath  that  he  would  draw  I  would  think  I 
would  be  down  his  throat,  and  when  his  breath  came 
out  I  was  bock  again  just  as  far.  But  with  every  ill 
that  befell  me  I  got  the  spear  loosed  from  him.  Then 
I  was  as  one  under  a  bundle  of  straw  in  a  great  wind, 
for  I  could  not  manage  the  spear.  And  it  was  fear- 
1^  fill  to  look  on  the  brute,  who  had  but  one  eye 
.  i  (  in  the  midst  of  his  face ;  and  it  was  not  agreeable 
for  the  like  of  me  to  attack  him.  I  drew  the  dart  as 
best  I  could,  and  I  set  it  in  his  eye.  When  he  felt 
this  ho  gave  his  hcnd  a  lift,  and  he  struck  the  other  end 
of  the  dart  on  the  top  of  the  cave,  and  it  wont  through 
to  the  back  of  his  head.  And  he  fell  cold  dead  where 
ho  was ;  and  Uiou  raayest  be  sure,  oh  king,  that  joy 
was  on  me.  I  myself  and  the  woman  went  out  on 
clear  ground,  and  we  passed  the  night  there.     I  wont 


"5 

gol  tìK  imi  wifii  vÌDcà  I  enK,«Ml  drnwrn  no 

hDoà  the  miHB  Md  the  ddld  over 
Mdbyknd;  nd  I  i«tm»d  kow.* 

Ike  kill's  maàMBt  m  pirtiii^  «  a  fire  li  iUi 
lÌM^  «m1  liiteaìi^  to  Qua  tflOmg  tiK  tide  aboid  ti» 
fkOL  "Is  it  tboa,*  Hid  tarn,  "ikii  ipoi  limr 
«  WcH  ÌkMmT  màà  be,  "^vw  L*  "  Oca !  oc^  r  aid 
tw  I  flHt  ▼»  Hmr,  Md  tiK  kn«  is  Ike  cinU 
Ufe  iknididii  »««;  wl  it  k  to  Ikee  ikii  life 
— fg*'*-  be  f^en.^  Tben  tkej^  toak.  C^resi  jo^« 
Tke  kn^  ■id^'CHi  Conal],  ikoa  iMiiat  tkm^ 
gmikadibipft.  And  aov  tke  bRnm  bone  m  tkine^ 
Md  kii  Mck  fun  of  tke  noii  pmmM  tkii^  tk^  an  ^ 

Thej  ÌMJ  down  tkat  ids^ti  aad  if  it  ww  etrij  tkat 
Cciil  tout,  it  w  eariier  tkan  tkat  tkat  tke  q[iieen  vaa 
ùm  §0fÀ  making  ready.  He  got  tke  btown  kone  and  kit 
wèA  loll  of  gold  and  ailver  and  aftonea  of  great  price, 
md  tken  Omall  and  kia  four  aoiia  want  away,  and  tkcj 
leÌM'ned  borne  to  tke  Erin  realm  of  ^adnoan  He  hii 
tke  grid  and  sUrcr  in  tke  booae,  and  lie  went  witb  tlie 
bone  to  tke  king.  Tbej  were  good  frienda  erennore. 
He  letamed  bome  to  bia  wife,  and  tbej  aet  in  order 
a  leaat ;  and  tbat  waa  tke  feaat^  ob  son  and  brotker ! 

Hot  liory,  told  by  a  bfind  bmb,  is  a  good  idiUboo  of  tbe  waj 
ta  wUch  a  popolar  Ule  adapts  itself  to  tbe  mind  of  crvrybody. 
Tka  bBnding  of  the  giaai  and  his  tvbseqiieni  address  to  his  pot 
gsal — **  There  thoo  art,  thoo  shaggj,  hairj,  white  goat :  thoQ 
sse*st  me,  bat  1  see  thee  not  **  comes  from  the  hesrt  of  the  nsr. 
ralor.  It  is  the  ornament  which  his  mind  hangs  on  the  frame  of 
the  story. 

**  James  Wilson  learnt  it  from  John  If  acLachlan,  an  old  man 
at  Kilsleren,  upwards  of  fortj  jears  ago.  The  old  man  wonM  be 
aboat  eightj  years  of  age  at  the  time.** 

Cka  Bruidri  is  probablj  a  cormption  of  soms  proper  name 

Ceao  ii  a  paw,  a  palm.    Buinaa,  yellow. 


\ 


1 16  WKSrr  HIQHLAND  TALBL 


CONALL  CRA-BHUIDHB. 

Bha  Conall  crk-bhaldlM  da  Umathanach  foglialimteach  ann  an 
Eirinn.  Bha  ceathrar  mhao  alge.  Bba  anna  an  am  tin  i)gh  air  a 
h-alle  còlgeamh  do  dh'  Eirinn.  Thult  e  mach  do  chlann  an  dgh  a 
bba  fagns  do  Chonall  gun  deacb  iad  ftTin  ai^ui  dann  Cbonaill  tbar  a' 
cb^le.  Fbaair  cUnn  Cbonaill  Ikmb  an  uaebdar,  '1  nibarbb  iad  mao 
mòr  an  i)gh.  Cboir  an  rigb  fiot  air  Conall  *i  tbairt  e  ris.  "A  Cbon- 
aill dè  ibog  do  d*  mbicsa  del  a  leum  air  mo  mbicsa  gut  an  do 
mbarbhadb  mo  mbac  mòr  le  d'  cbloinnsa  ?  Acb  tba  mi  fiUdnn  ged 
aleanainn  le  diogbaltas  tbu  nacb  mòr  is  f  bebirde  mi  e,  agut  cairidb 
mi  nia  ma  d*  cboinneamb  ni,  agus  ma  ni  tbu  e  cba  lean  mi  la 
diogbaltas  tbn.  Ma  gbeobb  tbu  f^in  agus  do  mbic  dòmbsa  each 
donn  rigb  Locblann  gbeobb  tbu  anamanna  do  mbac"  **  Carson,"  araa 
Conall,  "nacb  dtfanainnsa  toll  an  rigb  ged  nacb  biodb  anamanna  mo 
mbac  air  a  sgbtb  idir.  'S  cruaidb  an  gnotbacb  a  tba  tbu  *g  iarraidb 
orm,  acb  calllidb  mi  mo  bbeatlia  fdHn  agus  beatha  mo  mbsc  air  neo 
nl  mi  toil  an  rigb.  An  dtfigb  nam  briatbran  so  db*  f bbg  Conall  an 
i)gb  's  chaldb  e  dbacbaldh.  Nur  a  tbbinig  e  dacbaidb  bba  e  fo 
mbòran  trloblaid  agus  duibbtbiamhas.  Kur  a  cbaidb  e  laidbe  db' 
Innis  e  d*a  bbean  an  ni  cbuir  an  rigb  ma  cboinneamb.  Qbabb  a* 
bbean  mòran  dullichinn  gum  b*  digiu  da  dealacbadb  ritbe  f^io,  's 
gun  f  bios  aioe  'm  faicea4lb  i  tulUldb  e."  "A  Cbonaill/*  ars*  ise,  -  carson 
nacb  do  leig  tbu  leisan  rigb  a  tboll  fJÌn  a  dboanadb  ri  d'  mblc,  seacb 
a  bbi  folbb  a  nis  's  gun  f  bios'am  am  faio  ml  tulUldli  tbu." 

Nur  a  dh*  èirldb  iad  sn  la'  r  na  mhkireach  diulr  e  e  f^in  's  a 
cbeltbir  mio  an  òrdugb,  *s  gbabb  iad  an  turas  ma  tbualream  Locb- 
lann, 's  cba  d*  rlnneadb  stad  leo  acb  a  roubadb  cuain  gus  an  d* 
rainlg  iad  e.  Nur  a  rblnii;  iad  l/)ch1ann  clia  robb  flos  aca  do 
'dbèanadb  iad.  Arsa  *n  seann  duine  ra  mblc,  **  Stadadb  sibbse  agus 
iarraidb  slnn  a  macb  tigb  muilleir  an  rigb."  Nur  a  cbaidb  iad  a 
stlgb  do  thlgb  muilleir  an  rigb  cbulr  an  duine  iad  a  db*  f  bantuinn 
anns  an  oldbcbe.  Db*  innis  Conall  do'n  robuilleir  gon  deacb  a 
cblann  tèìn  *s  clann  an  rigb  tbar  a  cheile's  gun  do  mharbh  a 
chlannssn  mac  an  rigb  *s  nacb  robb  ni  sam  bltb  a  tboileacbadb  an 
rigb  acb  e  'db'  fbaotainn  eacb  donn  rigb  Locblann.  **Ma  ni  tbusa 
rbn  orm  's  gun  culr  tbuabr  dòlgb  ml  gum  faigb  mi  e,  gu  diongalta 
pklgbldb  mi  air  a  sbon  tbu."  Drsa  Conall,  "  'S  amaldeacb  an  ni  a 
tbbinlg  tbu  'dh*  iarraidb,**  ars*  am  muillear,  **  chlònn  tha  *n  rigb  air 
leagail  inntinn  air  ebo  mòr  *snach  fbaigb  tbu  air  dòigh  sam  bitb  e 


»•! 


Chvir  M  HkIi  Am  air  a  fMDiMi  a  rti  > 


tiMdiMI  airJ 

4taataiU 
ga  Mfta,  >i  cka  d*  riraair  iad  ai. 
Tyn  lad  'i  dl^  laait  lad  ta.  ' 
ilfk.  "TlMirigtadh  Mbaa  latdkariOwd,  *tBaayi6lkadMa»ii*  a 
liCUid  •  thAI  Bi  ffia  a  aHKk.-  N  v  a  mhothaicli  Ooaall  *k  a  aUiie 
gn  roUi  aa  gUleaa  air  Mbh  thmg  lad  lamb  a  ritbiid  air  as  aaeK  >i 
rag  fear  ae*  air,  *t  aa  ba  mhHx  ao  iCararaidi  a  rtea  aa  t-«aeh  aa  da 
■Uabbal  roinbid,  rian  •  barracfad  air  an  i-tiabhal  ta.  ''BbaaaiM.'* 
■n*  aa  r)gb ;  "  'i  ^igia  i^i  *bbcil  DÌtheigÌB  a*  car  dragh  air  aa  «acè 
dlMMui  ■gamta.'*  Dh'  f  baaJai  a  Wt  dag  ga  driflnach,  ^ aura  ihbiaig 
a  thcacftidaire  da  *ioDiitaidli  thairt  a  rfai,  gillvaa  aa  ■tabaill  a  obvr  air 
gklaand,  gaa  robh  radaigia  cabrr  air  an  aach.  Tliàinlg  aa  gillaaa, 
*9  dh'  fbolbh  an  ligb  lao.  Nar  a  aihothaleh  Oaaall  *i  a  mbie  aa  tbir 
a'tigbinn  diaidb  lad  do  aa  taiU  fbalalob.  Bba  'a  r^gb  *Ba  dbalaa 
faracfaail,  'i  chaaoaie  a  fiv  aa  robh  aa  bha  loirt  air  aa  h  oloh  a  bbi 


1 18  WEST  HIGHLAND  TALB. 

a'  dèftnadh  ttanrmlch.  -  Bithibb  Upaidb,*  an'  an  rV^b,  *■  Tha  daoiM 
a  liigh  'i  aa  ttkbuU,  *•  fklgheamaid  Ud  air  altaigin.**  Lean  an  righ 
faileachd  nan  daolna,  *m  f  huair  •  Ud.  Bba  b-uila  duina  aòlaoh  air 
Cooall;  chionn  bba  a  *iia  tbuatbanacb  maasail  aig  i)gb  Eiraaan. 
'S  nur  a  tbug  an  rìgb  nìot  as  na  tulU  iad  tbulrt  a  "Ul  Cbooalll 
a'  bbeil  tha  *n  to  H*  <*Tba  rkgh  mi  *n  to  gun  cheisl,  '•  tbug  an  aigin 
onn  tigbinn  ann  tba  mi  fo  d*  mbatbas  agai  fo  d*  onair  agva 
fo  d'  gbrat.**  Db*  ÌnnU  a  mar  a  tbacbair  da,  'a  gun  robb  aiga  *a 
Uaacb  dona  r'a  f  baotaiun  do  rlgb  Eireann  no  *rohao  a  bbi  air  a 
cbar  gu  l>àt.  "  Bba  f  liiot*am  nacb  f  liaighlnn  e  la  iairaldb,  *a  bba  ml 
'dol  g*  a  gboid."  "*  Seadb  a  Cbonaill  tba  a  gltf  mhatb  acb  tbig  a 
ttigb ,*'  an  an  ligb.  Dh*  iarr  a  air  a  luchd  coimbead  f  kin  cbar  afar 
mic  CbonaUl,  'i  biadb  a  thoirt  dbaibb;  *i  cbaireadb  faira  dbbbailt'  an 
oidbcba  lin  air  mie  ChonaUl.  •*Nii  a  Cbooalll,"  an'  an  i)gb,  '<Aa 
robb  tba  "n  kite  riabb  na  bu  cbruaidhe  na*bbitb  faldnn  do  chuid  mao 
'gan  crocbadb  am  mkireacb ;  acb  cbuir  thusa  gam*  mbatliaa  agoa 
gam*  gbrai  e,  'i  gar  a  *n  èigin  a  tbag  ort  e,  'i  cba  *n  f  baod  mi  tbnaa 
a  cbrocbadb.  Innii  domh  cbs  *8am  bitb  *8an  robb  tbu  cbo  cniaidh 
rit  a*  so,  *i  ma  dli*  innseas  tbu  sin  gbeobb  tbu  anam  do  mbic  is  biga 
leaf    **  Innsidh  mi  cbs  cbo  cruaidb  anns*  an  robb  mi,"  orsa  ConalL 

"  Bba  mi  ann  am  gbill'  òg,  's  bba  mono  feaninn  aig  m*  atbair^ 
'a  bba  pkiroean  bbioracb  aige,  *s  bba  ta  dbiu  an  deigb  bnltb.  Tbulrt 
mo,  mbatbair  rium  a  toirt  dbacbaidb.  Dh'  f  holbh  mi  agus  tbug  ml 
leam  balaclian,  agus  f  buair  sinn  a'  bhò,  '•  thug  sinn  leinn  i.  SbU 
fras  sbneachda,  cbaldb  sinn  a  stigh  do  bhotliag  hiridbf  's  tbug  sinn  a 
bbò  's  an  taogb  a  stigb  leiou,  's  bha  sinn  a'  leigeil  dhinn  na  froisa ; 
dè*  thkinig  a  stigb  acb  aona  chat  deug  *s  cat  mor  niagb  cam  na 
cheannabbard  orra.  Nur  a  tbàinig  iod  a  fctigh,  gu  dearbh,  cba  robb 
tlacbd  sam  bitb  agam  t6\n  d'  an  cuideachd.  ^  8u«s  sibh,"  ursa  *n 
caannabliard,  ''carson  a  bblodh  sibli  'nar  tbmli,  a^us  aeinnibh 
crònan  do  Cbonall  Crk-bbuidhe."  Bha  Ìongantas  onn  gum'  b' 
aitbne  do  na  cait  f^in  m'  ainm.  Nur  a  idieinn  iad  an  crònan.  an*  an 
oeannabhard.  **  Nis  a  Cbonaill  pkigh  duals  a'  chrònaln  a  sheinn  na 
caltduit"  *'Hata,  ursa  mi  fein  *<cha*n  *eil  duais  agamsa  dhuibb  mar 
an  d'  th^d  sibh  slos  agus  an  laogb  sin  a  gbabhail."  Cha  bu  luaitba 
tbulrt  mi  'm  facal  na  ghabb  an  da  chat  deug  a  sios  an  dkil  an  laoigb^ 
'a  gu  dearbb  cba  do  sheas  e  fada  dhaibh.  "Suas  sibh,  carson  a 
bbiodb  sibb  'nar  tosd  seinnibb  crònan  do  Chonall  Crh-bbuidhe,"  ars  an 
ceannard.  Qu  diongalta  cba  robb  tlachd  'sam  bitb  agam  fdin  d'a'n 
crònan,  ach  a  nios  a  ghabb  an  t-aon  chat  deug,  's  mar  an  do  sheinn 
iad  dòmhsa  crònan  an  sin  agus  an  sin. 

**  Paigb  a  nis  "nan  duais  lad,"  ars  an  cat  mor  madb.    Tha  mi  fdln 


ALL  CmA  imDMB.  1 19 


-•Sit- 

tàkk  mm  h^mdk  tkk  hUk,  "m 

1  «■  halach  M  tki«  •  *MKh  Mr,1i  tb^  M 

rich  kbA  ttaimgm  Mtwrm.    Mw  a  dwidli  M  a 

gJMbh  MriM  — di  rir  ■ÌBMwg  igwub  a  bha  airteeblicka  m 
t%|M.  T1ii«  Biat  dw  cnMklliliadk' flModahui  a  Mifcli  dk% 
DliaariKlalaatk,ftidir'iaa«Bdn.  A««i  aw  a  aUMClMicli 
■aa  eat  a*  «1*  dliAgli  itraip  ari  aan  aa  crapibh  dw  krd  "i  a 
ari  *Ma  kite  agat  a  Un  dhakaH  aaM  a  \Mkn,  h  dk* 
f  hahirh  ii  ari  ffia  dw  math  'b  a  dh'  f  haodaiaa.  TboWdi  aacak 
airailarTaklb  fsadh  aaeoUlt,'!  dwrabh  iad  *Kam*rbaoCaÌBa,  afw 
BwablHi  iadigUkthairt  gach  fear  racb^le  gaa  tUlcadh  iad,  adi 
tfcaift  am  cat  caai,  nngli  a  Un  *Ba  dMaanabhaid  ona.**  Cba  *b 
f  haeaiibha'  a  la  *ar  da  ahìùl,  *■  gva  agaau*  adi  an  aon  aliil.  Siod  aa 
aMgirtira  akaaa  aai  bàrr  aa  craoibbat  Ner  a  tbaiit  a  da  diaklb 
fHT  dkhi  i«aa  'm  dvaoibb,  *•  aor  a  bha  a  tii;b*n  fkr  an  robb  ari 
fbairaiiin  ari  ana  a  bb*  Mi^mm,  fcoM  mbarbb  mi  a.  *  Bbaani  aa,**  an' 
mm  tHT  cam,  "dia  V  fbaod  ibìm  *bbl  call  bm  diaidcadid  mar  m. 
Oainidribb  ma  bbaa  aa  cnMibba,  agaa  dadhadiaibb  UmcbloU 
ana,  agaa  leagaibb  an  naaa  aa  rbgaire  ga  talamh."  Cbnriankb 
iad  aa  ao  timdiioU  arra,  agaa  driadbaidi  iad  ma  *b«n,  agaa  a  driad 
f  braaarii  a  gbabrr  iad  tbag  i  ailaann  arra  ga  taitaam,  *§  tbag  mi 
ffia  glaodb  aaam  *a  dia  b-logbaadb  a.  Bba  ana  an  iomall  na  coilla 
aagairt  agaa  daidi  daoin*  aig  a  mambar,  *§  tboirt  a,  *  Tba  *n  aiod 
glaodb  abraidita  dia  n  'fbaod  miae  gun  a  f breagalrt,**  Thnirt  fear  a 
b«  gbllea  de  na  daoina.  **  Ltigeamaid  dk  gas  an  doinn  ihi  a  riibiad 
a.**  Tbbtoidi  na  caii  'i  tbbbidi  iad  ga  ftadhaidi,  'i  bbriad  iad  an  ath 
f hfvamb,  *§  tbag  mi  f^m  an  atb  gblaodb  asam,  *a  gu  daarbb  dm 
lobb  a  Cum.  '*  On  daataadi,**  ora*  an  aagairt,  **  *§  duina  'na  ^gin  a 
tb'aaa  ginaiaamaid."  Bba  iad  a*  eair  an  brdugb  ga  gluaaad,  'a  db* 
Arldb  aa  cait  air  a  diradbb  gaa  an  do  bbriad  iad  an  traaa  fraamhacb, 
*a  tbait  a  chraobb  air  a  b-uilaann.  Tbag  mi  *n  traaa  glaodb  aaam. 
DbdAridi  na  daoioa  fegbaintearb,  'a  nar  a  dinnnaio  UmI  an  did  a 


I20  WEST  HIQHLAKD  TALBB. 

bli'  aig  na  cAÌt  air  a  chraoibli  thbisich  iad  nrra  leia  na  spkdan,  ^ 
thòkich  iad  tèìn  *a  na  cait  air  a  cheile,  gut  an  do  mharbhadh  gu  1^, 
iad  na  daoin*  agua  na  cait ;  agus  gu  dnnUach  a  i^gh  dia  do  charaieb 
miaa  goa  am  faca  mi  'n  t-aon  ma  db«ireadh  a'  tulteam  din.  Tbàinig 
mi  dacbaidli,  agoa  ain  agad  an  caa  an  cmaidha  *n  robh  miaa  riabh,  'a 
air  learn  gum  bu  cluruaidha  'bhitb  gam'  leòbadh  aig  na  cait  na  bhith 
*gam*  chrucliadh  aig  x)gh  Loclilann  a  màireach. 

**  Od  a  CIionaill,*'arii  an  r\;;b,  **  *a  briatliaracb  tbo,  abaor  thu  anam  do 
nihic  la  d'  naiglicuclid,  ogua  ma  db*  innaeaa  tliu  dliomb  cka  ia  cruaidbt 
iia  do  tbri  mic  a  bbi  'g^n  crocliadb  a  inàireacb  glicobh  tba  do  dbama 
mac  ia  bi^e  leat  *a  bidb  an  ain  da  mhac  agad."  **  Mata,"  oraa  Conall, 
air  chbmhnant  gun  dòan  tbu  ain,  bha  ml  'n  caa  k  bu  cbruaidba  na 
*bbi*  agadaa  *nochd  am  prtoaan.  *'  Clainneam  e,**  ura*  an  rigb.  Bba 
mi  'n  aiod,"  oraa  Conall,  "  am  gbiU*  òg  *a  chaidh  mi  macha  abealgair- 
eacbd,  'a  bha  cr\och  m*  athar  taobh  na  fairge,  *a  bha  I  garbh  la 
creagan,  uambachan,  agoa  geothacban.  Nur  a  bha  mi  folbh  aig 
brkigh  a*  chladaich  chunnai<;  mi  mar  gum  biodh  toit  a*  tighinn 
a  n\oa  eadar  da  chreag,  'a  thug  mi  Ikmh  air  amharo  da  bu 
chiall  do'n  toit  a  bhi  tigbinn  a  nioa  an  aiod.  Nur  a  bha  mi  'g 
araharo  dtf  riiin  ml  ach  tuiteam  aioa,  'a  bha  "n  t-kite  cho  ihn 
do  leaaachadh  *a  nach  do  blirladeadh  cnkimh  na  craioionn.  Cba 
robh  fioa  'am  dè  mur  a  gheobhainn  a  moch  aa  an  ao.  Cha  robh  mi  'g 
amhare  romham  ach  bha  mi  'g  amharc  aa  mo  chionn  an  rathad  a 
thàinig  mi,  *a  cha  d'  thig  an  lath'  a  gheobhainn  auaa  an  ain.  Bha  a 
uamhaaach  learn  a  bhi  'n  ain  gua  am  bkiachainn.  Chuala  mi 
tuaimeileia  mhòr  a*  tighinn,  'a  de  bha  *n  ain  ach  famhair  mòr,  'a  da 
dhuaan  gobliar  leia,  agua  boc  air  an  ceann,  'a  nur  a  chcangail  am 
famhair  na  gobhair  thainig  e  n\oa  'a  thuirt  a  rium.*  **  liaobh  a 
Clionaill  'a  f  hada  mo  chore  a'  meirgeadh  ann  a'  m'  phòca  a  feitheamh 
air  t-f  hebil  mhaoth."  **  Oh,"  araa  miae,  **  Cha  mhor  ia  f  hehird  thu  miae 
ged  a  reubaa  thu  ml  aa  a'  clio'ile,  cha  dean  mi  ach  aon  trath  dhuit;  ach 
tba  mi  faicinn  gu  *bheil  thu  air  aon  aUil,  'a  l^igh  math  mise  'a  bheir  mi 
aealladh  na  aUil  eile  dhuit.  Dh'  f  holbh  am  famhair  *a  tharrainn  e 
'm  brothadair  mor  uir  Ikrach  a  ghealbliain,  *a  bha  mi  fèin  aig  ionnaach- 
adh  dha  demur  a  theòigheadh  e  'n  t-uiage,  chum  gun  d'  thugainn  a 
aealladh  do  'n  t-aUil  eile.  Fhuair  mi  firaoch,  'a  rinii  mi  rubair  dhath 
'a  diuir  mi  *na  ahoaaamh  anna  a*  bhrothadair  e.  Tliòiaich  mi  air  an 
t-aUil  a  bha  gu  math,  a*  cur  mar  f  hiachaibh  air  gun  d'  thugainn  a 
aealladh  do  *n  te  eile  gua  an  d'  f  hkg  mi  cho  dona  r*a  chòil  'iad;  agna 
gu  donteach  b'  fhaaa  'n  te  bha  gu  math  a  mhllleadh,  na  'aealladh  a 
thoirt  do  'n  t«  eile.  Nur  a  chunnaic  e  nach  bu  leur  dha  leua,  'a  a 
thuirt  mi  ftfin  ria  gum  faighinn  a  mach  gun  taing  dha,  thug  e  'n 


ISI 


thmàtmà'mm'ttàmkmàwdkmammmmm 


lir.     Dli* 

air  BrailMh  M  cUm,  lir  ah  "i  gm  Mrilaidk  a  bli^rf 
Mabh'oB.  Gkaidli  Bi  "mkIl  MvablHiBrf>Ma 
«BbalMirAlhMk«t«,1itlwiit«.*  *  TU  tkw' aa  ifai  a 
bMidkkli.cUtteEaB[d«aeiicfta*afhakaai*tlMM.*  Nar  a 
ari  ifia  a  mtmA,  *■  a  ckanak  ad  Vi  laogfaal  mi  Vi  caakt  ana, 
a  rigfi  Un  both  ana.  Nar  a  Un  mi  wacli,  li  a  dvatb 
crakioaa,  thaiit  mi  ris  a  bbèbd.  Tba  mi  mack  a  aia 
ttaingdaiC. '■Alw,''an*e8aB,**aad'riaatliaaoorm;  0*teablmtlia 
cha  fB|(lMÌateadi  h  gaa  d*  f  kaair  tha  auwh,  bbair  ml  dlraii  fUim*  a 
H^i^maaao.'bglMiiamflmiiMliBiefBamdhail.**  Cba  gliabli 
■rfVi  fiisBaaait,araaBd«,aehUlgci,'ibbdrml  laam  a.  Thilf  e 
^fUBa*air  abUkr.ebaidh  mifeia  "i  tiMg  ad  *m  flOaM,  "b chair  ml  air 
■w  adMor  a.  Nar  a  thairt  •  riam  aa  tin  a*  bÌMÌl  am  ftdaaa  fraagalrt 
««il,  tlnrirt  ad  ria,  UuL  Ura*  ataa,  Ca'  *tlw»  tba  f  hUaaa  {  H  Ihalrt 
flBfUnaa.  •«  Tha  ad  *a  m.*  Dh*  f  holbh  a*  bhèM  Ii  Ihag  •  toaa- 
nridh  air  far  an  robh  'm  fkiana  hraidhioa,  agat  chvBBak  mi  ^  to  gan 
rabh  ad  *n  ckt  aa  ha  chniaidiM  na  bha  mi  riabh.  TharmiaD  ml 
biodag ;  gfaearr  mi  dhVmi  a*  mbear ;  *i  Ihilg  mi  aam  i  cbo  f  bada  *•  a 
b'  vrraina  ml  mach  air  an  loch,  *9  blia  dòimhncacbd  mhbr  *i  aa 
biU.  Gblaoidh  nan  Chit*  ■*  bbaHTtba  f  bainna;  '•  tbnirt  am  fàinna. 
*  Tha  mi  *n  to,*  gad  a  bha  a  *n  gmnad  a  cbaaia.  Ihog  e  Icom  at 
ddigh  an  f  liàinne,  *s  a  mach  a  ghabb  a  anni  an  f  bairga  *i  bha  ml 
cbo  toilicbte  an  to  nor  a  chnnnaie  mi  a  'ga  bbktbadli,  *■  gad  a  leigaadh 
tbvaa  mo  bheatlia  fain  agas  liaatba  mo  mliae  l«am  gan  mU  dragb  a 
ehob  orm.  Nor  a  bhktliadh  am  famliair  cliaidh  ml  itigh  *i  thug  mi 
laam  nabh'aiga  'dh'br'i  dodh*airgiod/t  ohaidh  mi  dhaohaidh,  '•  g« 


ì  tt  WKBT  HIGHLAND  TALES. 

dBntMch  bhrn  toilÌBDUnn  mhòr  air  mo  mhainntlr  dot  a  litliilg  mi  'a  i 
chomhanra  dhuit  fliaic  thu  *nibeur  dhWm. 

**  Seadh  a  ChonaUl  *i  briathrach  aeòlt*  Uiii,  an  an  righ,  tha  mi 
f&ieinn  do  mliear  dh\ol.  Sliaor  thu  do  dha  mhae  a  nis  aoh  innia  domli 
cka  ia  crualdhe  an  robh  thu  riabh  na  bhi*g  amharc  air  do  dha  mhae  'gas 
eroehadh  a  màireach  'a  gheubh  thu  anam  do  dhama  mic  ia  aina  leaL** 

<*Dh*  f  holbh  an  aiod  m*  athair,**  arsa  Conal,  ''agua  f  boair  e 
dhomh  bean,  *a  bha  ml  air  mo  phbsadh.  Dh*  f  holbh  mi  ahealg.  fiha  mi 
folbh  taobh  na  fairge  ^a  diunnaic  mi  eilean  thall  am  meadhon  an  iocli, 
agn«  tliainig  ml  far  an  robh  bàta  an  sin,  *a  ropa  roimpe  'a  ropa  na 
daigli,  *a  mòran  do  nithaan  iuachmhur  an  taobh  a  atii^h  dhL  Dh* 
amliairo  mi  (An  air  a  bhkta  feuch  demur  a  gheobliainn  pkirt  diiL 
Chair  mi  atigh  an  dama  caa  *a  bha  *chas  eile  air  a  ghninnd,  *a  but  a 
cliog  mi  mo  chaaon  da  ach  a  bha  *m  tàta  nunn  am  meadhon  an  loch, 
*rt  dia  do  atad  i  gua  an  d'  rhinig  i  *n  t-eiiean.  Nur  a  chaidh  mi  madi 
•a  a  bhkta  thill  am  bkta  far  an  robh  i  roimhid.  Cba  robh  fioaam  an 
ao  de*  dhèanalnn.  Blia  *n  t-àite  gun  bhiadh,  gun  aodacli,  gun  choltaa 
tighe  air.  Tliog  mi  roach  a\r  mullach  cnoic.  Thkinig  mi  gu  gleann. 
Chunnaic  mi  ann  an  grunnd  glomhaia  bean  ague  leanabh  aice^  *a  an 
leanabh  rhiagt*  air  a  glUinean,  agoa  agian  aice  *na  Iklmli.  fiheireadh 
i  Ikmh  air  an  agian  a  chuir  air  muineal  an  leinibh,  'a  thòiaeachadh 
an  leanabh  air  ghireachdaich  na  h-aodann,  'a  ihòiseacliadh  iae  air 
caoineadb,  ^a  thilgeadh  i  *n  agian  air  a  h-aia.  Smaointich  mi  ftfin  gun 
robh  |mi  fagus  do  m*  naimhdean  'a  fad  o  m*  cbairUean,  *a  ghlaoidh 
mi  ria  a  bhoireannach.  **  De*  tha  thu  'deanadh  an  ao  ?  "  *S  thuirt  i  rinm, 
"  De  thug  thus*  an  so?  **  Dh*  innis  mi  f^n  di  facal  air  an  f  tiacal  mar 
a  thkinig  mi.  **  Mata,**  ore*  iae,  "  's  ann  mar  sin  a  thkinig  mise  cuid- 
eachd.**  Sheòl  i  mi  gus  an  kite  *n  d'  thiginn  a  atlgh  far  an  robh  t 
Chaidh  mi  stigh,  *a  thuirt  mi  rithe,  De  bu  cboireach  tliu  bhi*  cur  na 
a^ian  air  muineal  a  phklade.  **  Tha  gu  'fcum  mi  e*  blii  bruich  airsen 
an  f  hamhair  a  tlia  'n  ao,  air  no  cha  bhi  tuillidli  do  m*  shaoghal  romh- 
am."  Chaidh  mi  auaa  ceumanoa  stkighreach,  's  chunnaic  mi  aeòmar 
Ikn  do  chuirp  riiisgte.  Thug  ml  plaibean  as  a  chorp  a  bu  ghile,  ague 
cheangail  mi  sreang  ri  caa  a  phaisde  'a  areang  ris  a  phlaibean,  'a 
chuir  mi  *m  plaibean  *Da  bheul,  'a  nur  a  bhiodh  e*  del  *na  mhnineal 
bheireadh  a  s\neadh  air  a  chois,  *a  bheireadh  a  aa  a  mhnineal,  ach  leia 
an  f  had  a  l>ha  *a  an  t-amktiiainn  cba  b«urrainn  e  thoirt  aa  a  bheul. 
Tliilg  mi  'm  pkisd'ann  am  baraille  clòimlie,*s  dh'  iarr  mi  urra  'n  corp 
a  bliruich  do  *n  f  liamhair  an  kite*  phkisda.  '*  Demur  is  urrainn  mi  sin  a 
a  dheanadh,  *'  ars*  iae,  *s  gu  bheil  cunndaa  aig  air  na  cuirp.  Dekn 
thuaa  mar  a  tha  mise  *g  iarraidh  ort,  'a  rUisgidh  mise  mi  f^n,*a  theid 
mi*  meaag  nan  corp,  's  bidh  an  cunodas  aig  an  sin,  ursa  mise.    Rinn 


CONALL  CBA  BHUIDHl.  12} 

I  mar  a  dh*  larr  ml  arra.  Choir  lin  an  eorp  anna  a  bhrothadalr 
mh^,  ach  chu  h-arrainn  dainn  am  brod  a  ehur  air.  Nar  a  blia  ctaa 
a  tigh^  dadiaidh  rhisg  mÌM  mi  fein  'a  chaidli  mi  raeaag  nan  oorp. 
Thàinig  esan  dachaidh,  *i  chnir  iae  *ii  corp  air  mlaa  mbbr»  *a  nar  a  db* 
ilh  e  e  bha  e  a'  gearan  pan  robh  e  tuillidh  ii  rìgliÌDn  leia  do  phbiade.** 
*  Rian  mÌKa  mar  a  dh*  iarr  tho,**  an*  iae, "  Bha  oiinndaa  agad  fUn 
air  na  cnirp,  '•  thai  rig  bum  a  nil  agus  cunnd  iad.**  Chunnd  e  Ìad  *a 
bha  iad  aige.  "  Tlia  mi  *faicinn  fear  corp  goal  an  aiod,**  ora'  aian 
***!  tb^  mi  laidhe  tr«is,  *8  bidb  e  agam  nur  a  dhbingeaa  ml.  Nor  a 
db'  èiridh  a  cliaidh  e  luas  '•  rug  a  orro,  'i  cha  robb  mi  na  loithid  do 
ohÌM  riamb,  *i  nor  a  bba  a  'gam  ahlaodliadb  sioa  as  as  ttaigbir  *a 
■w  ebaann  aa  mo  dh^gh.  Thilg  e  anni  a*  elioiro  ml.  Thog  a  'm 
brody  *i  choir  e  'm  brod  anns  a  choire.  Bha  ml  'n  so  dnnteach 
fvn  bithinn  agklte  ma  'm  faighinn  aa  an  liod.  Mar  bhaaidh 
f  bortain  dbmhiia  chaidil  a  bh^iwl  taobb  a  choire.  Bha  mi  'n  sin 
*gam  igbladh  la  mha  a*  choire.  Nur  a  mboUiaicb  ìm  gon  robb  a  'na 
cbadal  choir  i  *beal  go  r^dh  ris  an  toll  a  bha  'aa*  bhrod,  *•  thohrt  i 
riwB  as  robh  mi  beò.  Thnirt  mi  gun  robh.  Chulr  mi  loas  mo 
rheann.  *a  bha  corrag  na  beitde  cho  mòr  *i  gon  deach  mo  dieann 
roimbe  go  solrbh.  Bha  h-oile  ni  tigh  'n  learn  go  eoirbb  gos  an  do 
tbbiiich  mi  air  toirt  a  nios  mo  chruachan.  Dh'  f  hag  mi  craidonn 
croacban  ma  bbeul  iin  tuill,  '■  thhinig  mi  as.  Nor  a  f  boair  mi 
as  a  choire  cha  robh  f  hioe  'am  de'  dhèanalnn,'s  tboirt  iae  riora 
naefa  robh  arm  sam  bith  a  mharbhadh  e  ach  arm  f<nn.  Thòisieh  ml 
air  tarroinn  na  sleaKh. '«  a'  h-uile  tarminn  a  bbeireadh  e  air  anal! 
abaolllnn  gum  bithinn  sios  'iia  mhuineal,  '§  nor  a  cbulreadb  e  hnach 
anaH  bba  ml  cho  fad'a  rithisd  air  m'  aia.  U-nile  b-ole  g'  an  d' 
fhnaiicadh  mi  f  hoair  mi  n  t-sleagh  f  huasgladh  oaidiL  Bba  mi  'n 
aia  mar  gom  bithinn  fo  oltach  cònlaich  ann  an  gaoith  mhòr,  *a  naeb 
b-«rrainn  mi  *n  t-sleagb  iomachar,  *s  b-oi11teil  a  bid  'g  amharc  afar  a 
bhMad,  *s  gon  ach  aon  abil  an  dbr  aodainn,  *§  cha  b-aobbacfa  do  m' 
laitbklsa  dol  *na  dhkil.  Tbarroinn  mi  *n  t-aleagh  mar  a  b*f  bekrr  a 
b'orraina  mi,  's  choir  mi  'na  shbll  L  Nur  a  mhothaich  a  ao  thug  e 
togail  air  a  cheann,  *§  bhoail  o  ceann  eile  na  slaagh  ri  driom  na  h- 
oamha,  *s  chaidh  i  roimhe  go  cbl  a  chinn,  's  thult  a  foar,  marbh  far  an 
robh  e,  's  go  cinnteach  dhoitse  a  Hgh  blia  boch  ormsa.  Cbaidh  ml 
Ma  'i  am  bolreannach  a  mach  air  fearann  glan,  's  choir  sin  seacbad 
an  oidbche  an  sin.  Dh'  f  holbh  ml  agos  f  hoair  ml  m  bbta  Ids  ao  d* 
tbbiaig  mi,  agos  cha  robh  iodramanacbd  sam  bith  nrra,  's  thog  mi 
'hhaan  agos  am  pàiade  aonn  air  talamh  tioram,  agos  thill  mi 
dhachaidh. 

Bba  mathair  an  rlgb  a*  cor  air  gealbhan  san  am»  s  a  *g  <iadeacbd 


«»4 


WBST  HIOHLàNO  TAIiB. 


riGoiianAlgliiiiMBdhanDaiglMtchdinA*nphìitd6.  *  An  trnP,"  vt' 
lM,l>ba*tiii.  «'Mata,iin6Mn,*'imL  «'Ochlochl''on*H«'tiiiÌM 
*blu  *&  liii,  agut  *i  e  *nHgh  am  pàiade  d*Aii  do  ahàbluiil  tha  tihwitlM, 
■gut  *•  ann  ort  a  dh*  d*f  baodar  Iraidheachaa  a  blieatha  tbothairt.*' 
Qhabh  iad  an  to  toilinnHnn  mhòr.  Urt'  an  rtgh,  •'A  Cbonaill 
thàinig  tha  ro  chkaan  mòr,  agvt  *a  leat  a  nit  an  t-eadi  doon,  agoa  a 
ihachd  do  na  nitheannan  it  luachmboira  "th*  ann  aVn'  conmhaa.*' 
Chaidh  iad  a  laidlia  *n  oidhdia,  tin  'a  ma  ba  mhocfa  a  dli*  ^iridh  Oonall 
Im  mhoiclM  na  tin  a  bba  bbanrigh  air  a  coia  a  'dliaansdb  daaa. 
Fbnair  •  an  Uoach  donn,  *a  a  abacbd  do  dh*  or,  *a  do  db*  afargiod,  *a  do 
cblacba  luadimbor,  ^  db*  f  boibb  an  ain  Conall  '§  a  cboatbrar  mao^  % 
tbiU  iad  davbaldb  do  i^ogbacbd  aigbaaracb  Eirinn.  Db*f  bbg  e  "a 
t-br  *a  an  i-airgiod  aig  an  tigb,  *a  cbaidb  a  leto  an  aadi  tbun  an  rigb. 
Gbord  a  fOn  'i  an  i^gb,  *§  bba  iad  *nan  ckirdean  roatba  toUlldb. 
Tbill  e  dliacbaidb  tbun  a  mbnatba  §  cbuir  iad  an  òrdogb  ciùnn*  ^  bl 
ebninn  i  a  mliie  *•  a  bhrbthair. 


VL 
THE  TALE  OF  CONAL  CBOVL 

N«iD  QiOiai,  iAwiiiiì,  Bev  Iny^nij. 


fTÌHERE  WM  a  king  orer  I^gland  oiioe»  and  lie  bad 
-^  Uiree  mma,  and  the/  went  to  France  to  get  learn- 
ing, and  when  thej  came  back  home  thej  odd  to  their 
Cither  that  thej  would  go  to  see  what  order  was  in  the 
kingdom  since  thej  went  awaj ;  and  that  was  the  first 
place  to  which  thej  went^  to  the  house  of  a  man  of  the 
king^s  tenants,  bj  name  Gonal  Grobhi. 

Conal  CroTÌ  had  ovorj  thing  that  was  bettor  than 
another  waiting  for  them;  meat  of  each  meat)  and 
draoghts  of  each  drink.  When  Uiej  were  satisfied, 
and  the  time  came  for  them  to  lie  down,  the  king's  big 
son  said — 

^  This  is  Uie  role  that  we  have  since  we  came  home 
— ^The  goodwife  most  wait  on  me,  and  the  maid  must 
wait  on  mj  middle  brother,  and  the  guidman*s 
daughter  on  mj  joung  brother.**  But  this  did  not 
please  Conal  Crovi  at  all,  and  he  said — ''I  won*t 
saj  much  about  the  maid  and  the  daughter,  but  I 
am  not  willing  to  part  from  mj  wife,  but  I  will  go 
out  and  ask  themselves  about  this  matter  ;**  and  out  he 
went,  and  he  locked  the  door  behind  him,  and  he  told 
his  gillie  that  the  throe  best  horses  that  wore  in  the 
stable  were  to  be  readj  without  delaj  ;  and  he  and 
his  wife  went  on  one,  his  gillie  and  his  daughter  ou 


126  WBST  HIGHLAND  TALBL 

another,  and  hU  son  and  tho  maid  on  the  thiid  hoiae^ 
and  they  went  wliore  the  king  was  to  tell  the  insult 
his  set  of  sons  had  given  them. 

The  king's  watchful  gillie  was  looking  out  whom  he 
should  see  coming.  He  called  out  that  he  was  seeing 
three  douhlo  riders  coming.  Said  Uie  king,  ha  1  hah ! 
This  is  Conal  Crovi  coming,  and  ho  has  my  three  sons 
under  cess,*  hut  if  they  are,  I  will  not  ba  When 
Conal  Crovi  came  the  king  would  not  give  him  a  hear- 
ing. Then  Conal  Crovi  said,  when  he  got  no  answer, 
*'  I  will  make  thy  kingdom  worse  than  it  is,"  and  he 
went  away,  and  he  began  robbing  and  lifting  spoil 

The  king  said  that  he  would  give  any  reward  to  any 
man  that  would  make  out  the  place  where  Conal  Crovi 
was  taking  his  dwelling. 

Tlie  king's  swift  rider  said,  that  if  he  could  get  a  day 
and  a  year  ho  would  find  out  where  he  was.  lie  took 
thus  a  day  and  a  year  seeking  for  him,  but  if  he  took 
it  he  saw  no  sight  of  Conal  Crovi.  On  his  way  home 
he  sat  on  a  pretty  yellow  brow,  and  he  saw  a  thin 
smoke  in  the  midst  of  tho  tribute  wood. 

Conal  Crovi  had  a  watching  gillie  looking  whom 
he  should  see  coming.  He  went  in  and  he  said  that  he 
saw  the  likeness  of  the  swift  rider  coming.  *'  Ha,  ha  I  '* 
said  Conal  Crovi,  "  the  poor  man  is  sent  away  to 
exile  as  I  went  myself." 

Coiud  Crovi  had  his  hands  spread  waiting  for  him, 
and  he  got  Ids  choice  of  meat  and  drink,  and  warm 
water  for  his  feet,  and  a  soft  bed  for  his  limbs.  He 
was  but  a  short  time  lying  when  Conal  Crovi  cried, 
"  Art  thou  asleep,  swift  rider  V*  "I  am  not,"  said  he. 
At  the  end  of  a  wliile  again  he  cried,  "Ai*t  thou 
asleep?"  He  said  he  was  not  He  cried  again  the 
third  time,  but  there  was  no  answer.    Then  Conal  Crovi 

*  Cisy  cots,  tax,  lubjectioD. 


THI  TALI  Of  OONAL  OBCm.  ttj 

eriedy  ''  On  your  soles !  all  within,  this  is  no  cioaching 
time.  The  following  will  be  on  us  presently.**  The 
watch  man  of  Coual  Crovi  was  shouting  that  he  was  see- 
ing the  king's  three  sons  coming,  and  a  great  company 
along  with  them.  He  had  of  arms  but  one  black  msty 
sword.  Conal  Crovi  began  at  them,  and  he  did  not 
leare  a  man  alive  there  but  the  three  king*s  sons,  and 
he  tied  them  and  took  them  in,  and  he  laid  on  them 
the  binding  of  the  three  smalls,  straitly  and  painfully, 
and  he  threw  them  into  the  peat  comer,  and  he  said 
to  his  wife  to  make  meat  speedily,  that  he  was  going 
to  do  a  work  whose  like  he  never  did  before.  "  What 
is  that»  my  man  1**  said  she.  ''  Qoiug  to  take  the  heads 
off  the  king's  three  son&'*  He  brought  up  the  big  one 
and  set  Ids  head  on  the  block,  and  he  raised  the  axe. 
**  Don't,  don%**  said  he,  *'  and  I  will  take  thy  part  in 
right  or  unright  for  ever.**  Then  he  took  tlie  middle 
one^  he  set  his  head  on  the  block  and  he  raised  the 
axe.  ''  I>on*t»  donV  said  he,  "  and  I  will  take  with 
thee  in  right  or  unright  for  ever.**  Then  he  brought  up 
the  young  one,  and  he  did  the  very  same  to  him. 
**  Don't,  don't,**  said  he,  ''  and  I  will  take  with  thee  in 
right  or  unright  for  ever.  Then  he  went,  himself  and 
the  king's  three  sons,  where  the  king  was. 

The  watching  gillies  of  the  king  were  looking  out 
when  they  should  see  the  company  coming  with  the 
head  of  Conal  Crovi  Then  one  called  out  that  he 
was  seeing  the  likeness  of  the  king's  three  sons  coming, 
and  Conal  Crovi  before  them. 

"  Ho,  hah  r*  said  the  king,  **  Conal  Crovi  is  coming, 
and  he  has  my  three  sons  under  cess,  but  if  they  are  I 
won't  be."  He  would  give  no  answer  to  Conal  Crovi, 
but  that  he  should  bo  hanged  on  a  gallows  in  the  early 
morning  of  the  morrow's  day. 

Mow,  the  gallows  was  set  up  and  Conal  Crovi  was 


128  WH8T  HIGHLANB  TALB. 

about  to  be  hangod,  but  Uie  kingf  8  big  son  oriedy  **  I 
will  go  in  his  placo."  Tlio  king^s  middle  son  cried,  **  I 
will  go  in  his  place ;"  and  the  king's  young  son  cried, 
*'  I  will  go  in  his  place."  Then  the  king  took  con- 
tempt for  his  set  of  sons.  Then  said  Conal  Crovi, 
"  We  will  make  a  big  ship,  and  we  will  go  steal  the 
throe  black  whitefaced  stallions  that  the  king  of  Eirinn 
has,  and  we  will  make  the  kingdom  of  Sasunn  as  rich 
as  it  ever  waa  When  the  ship  was  ready,  her  prow 
went  to  sea  and  her  stem  to  shore,  and  they  hoisted 
the  chequered  flapping  sails  against  the  tall  tough 
masts  ;  there  was  no  mast  unbent^  nor  sail  untom, 
and  the  brown  buckies  of  the  strand  were  *'  glagid"ing 
on  her  floor.  They  reached  the  ^'  Paileas*'  of  the  King 
of  Eirinn.  They  went  into  the  stable,  but  when  Conal 
Crovi  would  lay  a  hand  on  the  black  whitefaced  stal- 
lions, the  stallions  would  let  out  a  screech.  The  King 
of  Eirinn  cried,  "  Be  out  lads  ;  some  one  is  troubling 
the  stallions."  They  went  out  and  they  tried  down 
and  up,  but  they  saw  no  man.  There  was  an  old 
hogshead  in  the  lower  end  of  the  stable,  and  Conal 
Crovi  and  the  king's  three  sons  wore  hiding  them- 
selves iu  the  hogshead.  When  they  went  out  Conal 
laid  hands  on  the  stallion  and  the  sttdlion  lot  out  a 
screech,  and  so  they  did  three  times,  and  at  the  third 
turn,  one  of  those  who  wore  in  the  party  said,  that 
they  did  not  look  in  the  hogshead.  Then  they  re- 
turned and  they  found  the  king's  three  sons  and  Conal 
in  it.  They  were  taken  in  to  the  king,  "  Ha,  ha, 
thou  hoary  wretch,"  said  the  king,  **  many  a  mischief 
thou  didst  before  thou  thoughtest  to  come  and  steal 
my  three  black  stallions." 

The  binding  of  the  three  smalls,  straitly  and  pain- 
fully, was  put  on  Conal  Crovi,  and  he  was  thrown  in- 
to the  peat  corner,  and  the  king's  three  sons  were 


THB  TALB  Of  OONAL  OBOVI.  1 29 

tidcen  up  a  stair.  When  the  men  'who  were  ahove 
had  filled  themaelvos  full  of  meat  and  drink,  it  was 
than  thai  the  king  thought  of  sending  word  down  for 
Conal  Crovi  to  tell  a  tale.  'T  was  no  run  for  the  king^s 
big  son,  but  a  leap  down  to  fetch  him.  Said  Uie 
king^  **  Come  up  hero,  thou  hoary  wretch,  and  tell  us  a 
iak.**  "  I  will  teU  that,"  said  he,  ''  if  I  get  the  worth 
of  its  telling ;  and  it  is  not  my  own  head  nor  the  head 
of  one  of  the  company.*'  **  Thou  wilt  get  that^"  said 
the  king,**  "  Tost  1  hush  1  over  there,  and  lot  us  hear 
the  tale  of  Conal  Crovi  :'*— 

'*  As  a  young  lad  I  was  fishing  on  a  day  beside  a 
zÌTer,  and  a  great  ship  came  post  mo.  They  said  to 
me  would  I  go  as  'pilot'  to  go  to  Home.  I  said 
that  I  would  do  it ;  and  of  every  place  as  wo  reached 
it^  they  would  ask  was  that  Hornet  and  I  would 
say  that  it  was  not^  and  I  did  not  know  where  in  the 
great  world  Home  was. 

**  We  came  at  last  to  an  island  that  was  there,  we 
want  on  shore,  and  I  went  to  take  a  walk  about  the 
island,  and  when  I  rotumod  back  the  ship  was  gone. 
There  I  was,  left  by  myself^  and  I  did  not  know  what 
to  do.  I  was  going  past  a  house  that  was  there,  and 
I  saw  a  woman  crying.  I  osked  what  woe  was  on 
her ;  she  told  me  that  the  heiress  of  this  island  had 
died  six  weeks  ago,  and  that  they  were  waiting  for 
a  broUier  of  hers  who  was  away  from  the  town,  but 
thai  she  was  to  be  buried  this  day. 

**  They  were  gathering  to  the  burying,  and  I  was 
amongst  thom  when  they  put  her  down  in  the  grave ; 
they  put  a  bag  of  gold  under  her  head,  and  a  bag  of 
silver  under  lior  feet  I  said  to  myself,  that  were 
better  mine  ;  that  it  was  of  no  use  at  all  to  her.  When 
the  night  came  I  turned  back  to  the  grave.*     When  I 

*  Th«  Muno  word  meant  cuTe  sad  gimTe  |  the  grave  if  dag 

K 


130  WUT  HIOHLAND  TALB. 

had  dag  up  the  grave,  and  when  I  was  coming  up 
with  the  gold  and  the  silver  I  caught  hold  of  the  stone 
that  was  on  tlie  mouth  of  the  grave,  the  stone  fell 
down  and  I  was  there  along  with  the  dead  carlin.  Bj 
thy  handy  oh,  King  of  Eirinn !  and  hy  my  hand,  though 
free,  if  I  was  not  in  a  harder  cose  along  with  the 
carlin  than  I  am  here  under  thy  compassion,  with  e 
hope  to  get  ofL*' 

"  Ha !  ha  I  Thou  hoary  wretch,  thou  camest  out 
of  that,  hut  thou  wilt  not  go  out  of  this.'* 

'*  Give  me  now  the  worth  of  my  ursgeul,"  said 
Conal. 

"  What  is  that  1 "  said  the  king. 

''  It  is  that  the  hig  son  of  the  King  of  Sasunn, 
and  the  big  daughter  of  the  King  of  Eirinn,  should 
ho  married  to  each  other,  and  one  of  the  black  white- 
faced  stallions  a  tocher  for  them." 

"  Thou  shalt  get  that,"  said  the  king. 

Conal  Crovi  was  seized,  the  binding  of  the  three 
smalls  laid  on  him  straitly  and  painfully,  and  he  was 
thrown  into  the  peat  corner  ;  and  a  wedding  of  twenty 
days  and  twenty  nights  was  made  for  the  young  couple. 
Wlien  they  were  tired  then  of  eating  and  drinking, 
the  king  said  that  it  were  better  to  send  for  the  hoaiy 
wretch,  and  tliat  ho  should  tell  them  how  he  liad  got 
out  of  the  grave. 

T  was  no  run,  but  a  leap  for  the  king's  middle 
son  to  go  to  fetch  him ;  he  was  sure  he  would  get  a 
marriage  for  himself  as  he  had  got  for  his  brother.  Ho 
went  down  and  he  brought  him  up. 

Said  the  king,  "  Come  up  and  tell  to  us  how  thou 

because  western  grares  are  dug ;  but  tbe  stone  falls  on  tbe  mouth 
of  the  g^aye,  probably  because  the  story  csme  from  some  country 
where  graves  were  cares.  There  is  an  Italian  story  in  which 
this  incident  occurs — Decameron  of  Boccacio. 


•  « 


TAB  TALB  OF  OONAL  CBO  VL  1 3 1 

gottest  out  of  the  grave. "  "  I  will  tell  that,'*  aaid 
Gonal  Giovi,  *'  if  I  get  the  worth  of  telling  it ;  and  it 
is  not  my  own  head,  nor  the  head  of  one  that  is  in  the 
company."     **  Thou  shalt  get  that,**  said  the  king. 

^  I  was  there  till  the  day.  The  brother  of  the 
heiress  came  home,  and  he  must  see  a  sight  of  his 
sister ;  and  when  they  were  digging  the  grave  I  cried 
out,  oh  1  catch  me  by  the  hand ;  and  the  man  that 
would  not  wait  for  his  bow  he  would  not  wait  for  his 
swordf  as  they  called  that  the  worst  one  was  there ; 
and  I  was  as  swift  as  one  of  themselves.  Then  I 
was  there  about  the  island,  not  knowing  what  side  I 
should  go.  Then  I  came  across  three  young  lads,  and 
they  were  casting  lots.  I  asked  them  what  they  were 
doing  thu&  They  said,  'what  was  my  business  what  they 
were  doingt*  'Hud  I  hud  1 '  said  I  myself,  *  you  will  tell 
me  what  you  are  doing.'  Well,  then,  said  they,  a  great 
giant  took  away  our  sister.  We  are  casting  lots  which 
of  us  shall  go  down  into  this  hole  to  seek  her.  I  cast 
lots  with  them,  and  there  was  but  that  the  next  lot 
fell  on  myself  to  go  down  to  seek  her.  They  let  me 
down  in  a  creel.  There  was  the  very  prettiest  woman 
I  ever  saw,  and  she  was  winding  golden  thread  off 
a  silver  windle.  Oh  I  said  she  to  myself^  how  didst 
thou  come  here  1  I  came  down  here  to  seek  thee  ;  thy 
three  brothers  are  waiting  for  thee  at  the  mouth  <^  the 
hole,  and  you  will  send  down  the  creel  to-morrow  to 
fetch  me.  If  I  be  living,  'tis  well,  and  if  I  be  not^ 
there  's  no  help  for  it.  I  was  but  a  short  time  there 
when  I  heard  thunder  and  noise  coming  with  the 
giant  I  did  not  know  where  I  should  go  to  hide 
myself ;  but  I  saw  a  heap  of  gold  and  silver  on  the 
other  side  of  the  giant's  cave.  I  thought  there  was 
no  place  whatsoever  that  was  better  for  me  to  hide  in 
than  amidst  the  goUL    The  giant  came  with  a  dead 


1)1  Wnr  HTOHLaHD  TALOL 

carlin  trailing  to  each  of  his  shoe-tiea.  He  looked 
down,  and  lie  looked  up,  and  when  he  did  not  aae  hor 
before  him,  he  let  out  a  great  howl  of  crying^  and  he 
gave  the  carlina  a  little  ainge  through  the  fire  and 
he  ate  them.  Then  Uie  giant  did  not  know  what 
would  best  keep  wearying  from  him,  but  he  thought 
that  he  would  go  and  count  his  lot  of  gold  and  aUver ; 
then  ho  was  but  a  short  time  when  he  set  his  hand  on 
my  own  head.  '  Wretch  1 '  said  the  giant»  'many  a  bed 
thing  didst  thou  erer  before  thou  thoughtest  to  come  to 
take  away  the  pretty  woman  Uiat  I  had ;  I  have  no 
need  of  thee  to-night,  but  'tis  thou  shalt  polish  my  teeth 
early  to-morrow.'  The  brute  was  Ured,  and  he  alepl 
after  eating  the  carlins  ;  I  saw  a  great  fleah  stake  beside 
the  fire.  I  put  the  iron  spit  in  Uie  yery  middle  of  the 
fire  till  it  was  rod.  Tlie  giant  was  in  his  heayy  deep, 
and  his  mouth  open,  and  he  was  snoring  and  Mowing. 
I  took  the  red  spit  out  of  the  fire  and  I  put  it  down 
in  the  giant's  mouth ;  he  took  a  sudden  spring  to 
the  further  side  of  the  cave,  and  he  struck  the  end 
of  the  spit  against  the  wall,  and  it  went  right  out 
through  him.  I  caught  the  giant's  big  sword,  and  with 
one  stroke  I  struck  the  head  off  him.  On  the  morrow's 
day  the  creel  came  down  to  fetch  myself ;  but  I  thought 
I  would  fill  it  with  the  gold  and  silver  of  the  giant ; 
and  when  it  was  in  the  midst  of  the  hole,  with  the 
weight  of  the  gold  and  silver,  the  tie  broke.  I  fell 
down  amidst  stones,  and  bushes,  and  brambles;  and 
by  thy  hand,  oh.  King  of  Eirinn  1  and  by  my  hand, 
though  free,  I  was  in  a  liarder  case  than  I  am  to-night, 
under  thy  clemency,  with  the  hope  of  getting  out" 

**  Ah !    thou    hoary  wretch,  thou  camest  out  of 
that^  but  thou  wilt  not  go  out  of  this,"  said  the  king. 

"  Give  me  now  the  worth  of  my  ursgeuL" 

'*  What's  that  1 "  said  the  king. 


THB  TALB  OP  OONAL  OBOVL  I }} 

**  It  IB  the  middle  son  of  the  King  of  Sasann,  and 
the  middle  daughter  of  the  King  of  Eirinn  to  be  mar- 
ried to  each  other,  and  one  of  the  black  whitefaoed 
•talliona  ad  tocher.** 

"  lliat  will  happen,**  said  tlie  king. 

Conal  Crovi  was  caught^  and  bound  with  three 
■lender  ends,  and  tossed  into  the  peat  comer ;  and  a 
wedding  of  twenty  nights  and  twenty  days  was  made 
for  the  young  couple^  there  and  then. 

I  When  they  were  tired  of  eating  and  drinking,  the 
king  said  they  had  better  bring  Conal  Crovi  up,  till  he 
should  tell  how  he  got  up  out  of  the  giant's  cava 
Twas  no  run,  but  a  spring  for  the  king^s  young  son  to 
go  down  to  fetch  him  ;  he  was  sure  he  would  get  a 
"  match  **  for  him,  as  he  got  for  the  rest 

"  Come  up  here,  thou  hoary  wretch,**  said  the  king, 
**  and  tell  us  how  thou  gottest  out  of  the  giant's  cave.** 
""I  will  tell  that  if  I  get  the  worth  of  telling  ;  and  it 
is  not  my  own  head,  nor  the  head  of  one  in  the  com- 
pany.** '*  Thou  wilt  got  that,"  said  the  king.  *'  Tost ! 
silence  over  there,  and  lot  us  listen  to  the  sgeulach  of 
Conal  Crovi,"  said  the  king. 

**  Well !  I  was}  there  below  wandering  backwards 
and  forwards ; .  I/waf  .going  past  a  house  that  was  there, 
and  I  saw  a  woman*  there,  and  she  had  a  child  in  one 
hand  and  a.  knife  in  the  other  hand,  and  she  was 
lamenting  and  crying.  I  cried  myself  to  her,  *  Hold 
on  thy  liaml,  woman,  what  art  thou  going  to  do?' 
'  Oh  1  *  said  she,  *  I  am  here  with  Uiree  giants,  and 
they  ordered  my  pretty  babe  to  be  dead,  and  cooked 
for  them,  when  thoy  should  come  home  to  dinner.' 
'  I  tee,*  said  1,  *  three  hanged  men  on  a  gallows  yon- 
der, and  we  will  take  down  one  of  them  ;  I  will  go 
up  in  the  place  of  one  of  them,  and  thou  wilt  make 
him  ready  in  place  of  thy  babe.'       And  when  the 


«34  WIST  HIOHLAND  TALIB. 

giants  came  home  to  dinner,  one  of  fhem  would  sqri 
*This  is  the  flesh  of  the  babe;'  and  another  would 
say,  '  It  is  not.'  One  of  them  said  that  he  wonld  go 
to  fetch  a  steak  out  of  one  of  those  who  were  on  the 
gallows,  and  that  he  would  see  whether  it  was  the 
flesh  of  the  babe  he  was  eating.  I  myself  was  the  first 
that  met  them;  and  by  thy  hand,  oh.  King  of  Eiiinn, 
and  by  my  hand,  were  it  free^  if  I  was  not  in  a  some- 
what harder  cose,  when  the  steak  was  coming  oat  of 
me,  than  I  am  to-night  under  thy  mercy,  with  a 
hope  to  get  out.** 

"Thou  hoary  wretch,  thou  camest  out  of  that^ 
but  thou  wilt  not  come  out  of  this,*'  said  the  king. 

"  Give  me  now  the  reward  of  my  ursgeul  t " 

''  Tliou  wilt  get  tliat,"  said  tlie  king. 

"My  reward  is,  the  young  son  of  Uie  King  of 
Sasunn,  and  the  young  daughter  of  the  King  of 
Eirinn,  to  be  married,  and  one  of  the  black  stallions  as 
tocher." 

There  was  catcliing  of  Conal  Ciovi,  and  binding 
him  with  the  tliree  slender  ends,  straitly  and  pain- 
fully, and  tlirowing  him  down  into  the  peat  comer ; 
and  there  was  a  wedding  made,  twenty  nights  and 
twenty  days,  for  Uie  young  pair.  When  they  were 
tired  eating  and  drinking,  the  king  said  that  it  were 
best  to  bring  up  that  hoary  wretch  to  tell  how  ho  came 
off  the  gallows.     Then  they  brought  myself  up. 

"  Gome  up  hither  tliou  hoary  wretch,  and  tell  us 
how  thou  gottest  off  the  gallows.*'  "  I  will  tell  that,'* 
said  I  myself^  "  if  I  get  a  good  reward."  "  Thou  wilt 
got  that,'*  said  the  king. 

"  Weill  when  the  giants  took  their  dinner,  they  were 
tired  and  they  fell  asleep.  When  I  saw  this,  I  came 
down,  and  the  woman  gave  me  a  great  flaming  sword 
of  light  that  one  of  the  giants  had ;  and  I  was  not  long 


BQIULAOHD  OHONAIL  CHBOBHUL        I  $  5 

thiowisg  the  heads  off  the  giants.  Then  I  myself  and 
the  woman  were  here,  not  knowing  how  we  should  get 
npoatof  thegiant'scave.  We  went  to  the  farther  end  of 
the  cave,  and  then  we  followed  a  narrow  road  through  a 
rock,  till  we  came  to  lights  and  to  the  giant's  '  biorlinn ' 
of  diips.*  What  should  I  think,  but  that  I  would 
torn  back  and  load  the  biorlinn  with  the  gold  and 
silTer  of  the  giant ;  and  just  so  I  did.  I  went  with 
the  biorlinn  under  sail  till  I  reached  an  island  that 
I  did  not  know.  The  ship,  and  the  woman,  and  the 
babe  were  taken  from  me^  and  I  was  left  there  to  come 
home  as  best  I  might  I  got  home  once  more  to 
8asunn,  though  I  am  here  to-night** 

Then  a  woman,  who  was  lying  in  the  chamber, 
cried  out^  "  Oh,  king,  catch  hold  of  this  man ;  I  was 
the  woman  that  was  there,  and  thou  wert  the  babe.** 
It  was  here  that  value  was  put  on  Conal  Crovi ;  and 
the  king  gave  him  the  biorlinn  full  of  the  giant*s 
gold  and  silver,  and  he  made  the  kingdom  of  Sasunn 
as  rich  as  it  ever  was  before. 

Told  bj  Neill  Gllliet  a  flthermtii  at  Invenuy,  about  flftj-flfo 
ymn  old,  who  mjn  that  he  hai  known  Um  itory,  and  hai  lepeatod  It 
Ibr  Mtnj  yoan :  he  loaned  it  from  bif  pannta.  Written  down  bj 

Hbotob  Ubquuaxt. 


8QEULACHD  CHONAIL  CHROBHIE. 

BuA  rif  h  air  Satunn  aon  aair,  agna  bha  tribir  mhae  alge,  *s  chaklb 
lad  do*n  Fbraiogadh'  f  haotaion  lonnaacbadb,  ague  an  oair  a  tbUl  lad 
dhaohaidb,  thuirt  iad  ri  *n  athair  gun  racbadh  lad  a  tbcaUtainn  dt  "n 
rii^haat  a  bha  tan  ribghacbd  o  'n  a  dh*  f  balbb  lad,  ague  b*e  a  chetid 


*  BiOB,  a  log ;  Liaa  a  pool ;  Luivobavacb,  of  abips ;  nopal 
hargif  or  Luas,  handle  of  an  oar,  oand  harg€. 


1 36  WB8T  HIGHLAND  TALK 

àitodo'tadMcb  lAddotblghfetrdothaAtbaiuiidiftii  i^ghdo'ÌBliraiai 
ConalCròUhl  Bhagftch  niì)  YhMurr  iMchAk  aig  Gonal  CroMd  a 
feitheainh  orra,  biadh  dbeth  gach  biadh,  ^  daoch  dbath  gaeh  daoeh. 
'Nuair  a  bha  iad  subhach  'la  thàinlg  am  dholbh  dol  a  Inldha^  thidrt 
mao  mòr  an  i^h,  **  'Se  ao  an  riagfaaÌU  a  th*  againna  bbo  tbàinig  rfm 
dbaohaldb,  gn  "lu  bi  inise  U  bean  an  tigba  noehd,  agna  mo  hhrtithair 
mcadhonacb  leU  an  t-aearbbanta,  '•  roo  bbrkUuir  òg  la  nigbaaa  Ar 
an  tighe."  Ach  cba  do  tbaiUnn  ao  idir  rt  Conal  Ciòbhi,  *§  thabhaSrt 
t, "  Mu  *n  nigbean  *•  mn  "n  Uaearbbanta  cba  "h  abair  mi  moran,  aefadMi 
'n-*eU  mi  toilicbta  dealachadh  ri  m*  bbean,  acb  tb^  mba  maeh  ^«s 
febraicbidb  mi-dhiubh  f  hein  mn  tbÌmchioU  na  cbise  to;*  agitB  m 
mach  ghabb  e,  's  ghlais  e  'n  dorus  na  dhèigb  *8  db*  larr  t  air  a  gUOo 
na  tri  eicb  a  b*  f  beàrr  a  bha  anna  an  atàbuU  a  bhi  daaa  gim  dàÌL 
Cbaidb  e  tèìn  'a  a'  bheau  air  fear,  'a  a  ghille  'a  a  nigbean  air  fear  eilib 
a  rohac  'a  an  aearbhanta  air  an  treaa  eacb,  *8  dh'  f  halbh  iad  Ihr  aa 
robb  an  r\gb,  a  dh*  innaeadb  am  maaladh  a  tbug  a  cboid  mac  dbofbh. 
Bha  gille  furacbail  an  rigb  ag  ambarc  a  mach  co  a  chitbeadb  e  *iighiim. 
Ghlaodh  e,  *<  gun  robb  e  *faicinn  triiiir  mharcaiche  dbbailte  a'  tighinB." 
lliairt  an  r\gli,  *<  ha  I  hath  I  ao  Conal  Cròbhi  a'  tigbinn,  *8  no  thribir 
mbac-ta  fodiU  aige,  ach  ma  tha  iadaan,  cba  bhi  miae."  'Noahr  a  thalalg 
Conal  Cròbhi,  cha  d'  thugadh  an  rìgh  tfiadeachd  dha.  Thairt  Good 
Cròbhl  an  ain,  *noair  nach  d'  f  buair  e  freagairt, "  Ni  miaa  do  r^ogbadid 
na  'a  mioaa  na  tha  i,"  'a  dh'  f  halbh  e  'a  dh*  f  hag  e  e,  'a  thòiaieh  • 
air  robaireachd,  'a  air  togail  chreacli. 

Thuirt  an  i)gh,  gu  *n  d'  Uiugadh  e  duaia  air  bitb  do  dhnina  a  gbaibh* 
adb  a  mach  an  t-àite  anna  an  robb  Conal  Cròbhi  a*  gabhaii  còmhnuidli. 
Thuirt  marcach  gemeartach  *  an  ri>;h,  *'na  'm  falgheadh  eaan  latlia  V 
blladhna,  gu  *m  faigheadh  eaan  amach  fkr  an  robb  a."  Tbug  e  mar  io 
latha  'a  bliadhna  'ga  'iarraidh,  ach  ma  thug,  cha  'n  fhao  e  aealladb  do 
Chonal  Cròbhi.  Air  an  rathad  diiachaidh,  ahuidh  •  air  maolan  bòidh- 
each  bttidhe  'a  chunnaic  e  caol  amuid  ann  am  meadhon  na  Collie  iibb- 
laidh.  Bha  gille  furacbail  aig  Conal  Crbbhi  a*  aealltainn  co  *chitheadh 
e  *tighinn.  Chaidh  e  atigh,  'a  thuirt  e  gun  robb  e  Yaiclnn  coalaa  a 
mharcalch  ghemeartaich  a'  tighiun.  **  'l*ha,  tha,  thuirt  Conal  Cròblii, 
tha  'n  duine  bochd  air  a  chuir  air  falbh  air  fbgradh  mar  chaidh  mi 
f^n.**  Bha  a  làmhan  agaoilte  aig  Conal  Cròbhi  a'  feitheamh  air,  'a 
f  huair  •  roj:ha  biadh  'a  deocha,  *a  bum  blath  d*a  chasan,  'a  leaba  bhog 
d*a  leaaan.  Cha  robh  e  ach  goirid  *na  luldhe  *nuair  a  ghlaodh 
Conal  Cròbhi,  "Am  bheil  thu  *d  Chada)/'  a  mharcalch'  gheyeartaicb.  *m,^ 

*  Gemeartach,  awifl  {not  in  dictionarùs) ;  probably  from  Cbum, 
a  pace. 


8QBULA0m>  CHONAIL  CHROBHIB.  1 3  ^ 

^GÌMiirtll,*'  thvirt  «niL  "V  CeMin  tMain  a  rithiit.  gfalaodh  ^  "*iii 
bMl  th«  *iiiid'  chadaL"  Thnirt  %  nach  robh.  Ghlaodh  t  Mtbitt  an 
tnat  «air,  ach  efaa  robh  freagradh  ann.  Ghlaodh  Gonal  Cròbhi  an 
9^  *  Air  Uior  bona  na  thattigh ;  cha  *n  am  erhban  a  th'  ann,  bithtdh 
aa  Mr  oimn  an  eeartair.**  Bha  *m  fear  faire  aig  Gonal  Cròbhi  a 
ijlaodhaifh  gnn  robh  a  Yiidcinn  trihtr  mhac  an  righ  a*  tighinn  k 
mbòr  mallle  rio."  Gha  robh  do  dh*  alrm  aig*  ach  claidh* 
nairgeach  dobh.    Tbòislch  Gonal  Gròbhl  orra,  *•  cha  d'  f  hkg 

bob,  ach  trihir  mhae  an  righ.  Gheangail  a  trihir  mbac  an  righ 
aa  ifai  1i  thag  a  ttigh  lad.  Ghoir  a  oeangai  nan  tri  chaoil  orra  gn  daor 
'a  g«  doeafar,  *%  thilg  a  ann  an  cUil  na  mbn*  lad,  't  thairt  e  ri  ì>hean  Uadh 
A  ilhbaBimh  gn  luatht  gu  *n  robh  a  *doi  a  dhèanamh  obair  nach  d* 
rim  •  riamh  ruimha  a  Mthid.  "  Gn  dtf  lin  a  dhnine,"  thnirt  iaa. 
*  Ool  a  tboirt  nan  crann  do  thrihlr  mhac  an  rìgh.**  Thug  a  nka  am 
Iht  mbr,  H  chair  a  *ohaann  air  an  eaUfg^s  thog  a  'n  toadb.  "Ha 
èikmX  aa  dahn,**  thnirt  etan,  ** 'i  gabhaidh  ml  kat  fliAn  an  oblr 's  an 
aaeair  g«  brith.*'  Thug  a  nks  an  ain  ant  faar  meadbonach ;  chair  a 
dMam  air  an  aalaig,  *s  thog  a  'n  taadh.  •<Na  dabnl  Na  daànl** 
ttelrt  aian, « 's  gabhaidh  mi  laat  f  h^n  an  obir  *ian  aacoir  gn  brhth." 
TlmganVocansinamfaarbg/srinnanaiibideilaair.  **Nadebnl  Na 
èiàm  I "  tboirt  cmui,  **  *s  gabhaidh  mi  leat  an  Gbir  *•  an  euooir  gn  brkth.** 
Dk'  fhalbh  a  f  h^  an  sin  'f  trihir  mhac  an  i^h  tax  an  robh  an  righ. 
BiM  gUlran  fnrachail  an  r)gh  a*  taalltainn  a  mach,  coin  a  chlUiaadh 
lad  a'  tIghInn  a  chodeachd  la  eeann  Gbonail  GhròbbL    Ghlaodh  f«ar 

gnn  robh  a  *falcinn  coalas  trihir  mbac  an  r^gb  a*  tlnbinn,  's 
Grbbhi  air  an  toiaaach.  ••  Ha  I  ha  I  Uiuirt  an  r)gh,**  tha  Gonal 
Qròbhl  a*  tighinn  *s  mo  thrihir  mhac  alga  fo  Ghk,  ach  ma  tha  ladaan, 
dMi  bU  mita.  Gha  d*  thagadh  a  (rugradh  do  Ghonal  Gròbhi,  ach  gn 
*m  billMadh  a  air  a  chrochadh  air  Groich  air  Moch  Madninn  an  latha 
MUraaefa.  NU  chaidh  a  Chroich  a  chair  aoas,  's  bha  Gonai  Gi^bhi 
ga  bU  air  a  chrochadh ;  ach  ghlaodh  mac  mbr  an  r^h,  **  Th^  mlia 
aa  hka.**  Ghlaodh  mac  maadhonach  an  righ,  <*Th^id  miaa  *na 
hka."  Ghlaodh  mac  òg  an  righ,  ^  Th«d  miaa  'na  hiu."  Ghabh  an 
ilgh  mloChlacbd  an  to  ri  'choid  mac.  Thairt  Gonai  Gròbhi  an  shi, 
"  Nl  afam  long  mhòr  ago*  thèid  linn  a  ghoid  na  *n  tri  bigeach  bhlàra, 
dkabha  a  tha  aig  r^h  Eirinn,  *f  ni  tion  i^oghaohd  Shaaninn  co 
baartach  ta  bha  i  riamh. 

'Nnair  a  bha  *n  long  daat,  chaidh  a  toiaeach  ri  malr  *a  a 
dairaadh  ri  Ùt,  's  thog  lad  na  sihil  bhreaca,  bhaidealach  ri  aghaidh 
aaa  crann  fada,  folannach,  '§  cha  robh  crann  gun  Ifabadh  na  aaòl 
g«a  raobadh,  'a  bha  faochagan  madh  a  chladaich  a  glagadaich  air 
ah-arlar.   Bàinig  lad  pàikaa  rlgh  KIrInn ;  Ghaidh  iad  a  itigh  do  li 


1 38  WIST  mOHLAKD  TALB. 

•Uboll,  ach  a  nuair  a  chnircadh  Conal  OiMA  a  Ikmh  air  m 
bhlàn,  dhubha,  leigeadh  na  h-oÌ|;elch  tgranch  aada.  Qhlaodk  ilgh 
Eirinn,  «•  Bithibh  a  mach,  f  bearaibh,  tha  Coidaigiim  a  ew  dn|^  air 
na  h-bigaich."  Chaidh  lad  a  mach,  *•  dh' f  bench  iad  diVoa  aa  ahMa 
ach  cha  n*  f  hae  lad  duina.  Bha  aaann  togiald  an  eaann  ahVoa  «1 
atàbuUI,  agna  bha  Conal  Crbbhi  '•  trihir  rohae  an  i)gh  'gaai  fdaA 
thUn  *•  an  togtaid.  *ApaÌr  a  chaidh  iadaan  a  mach,  efanfar  Ooaal  a 
Uunh  air  an  bigaach,  ach  leig  an  t-blgaach  igranch  aa.  Rian  iad  ia 
tri  uairean,  agna  air  an  treat  trbmh,  thuln  foar  do  aa  bha  aa  dniMp 
aachd,  nach  do  aheall  iad  lan  togtaid.  Sheall  hid  an  ahi,  *a  f  haair 
iad  trihir  mhao  an  righ  ague  Conal  anna  an  togtaid.  Chaidh  aa 
Ubhairt  a  ttigh  a  dh'  ionntaidh  an  rìgh.  **  Hal  ha  I  a  bh^iat  llalh,'* 
tbairt  an  righ, "  *a  iomadh  Cron  a  rinn  thn,  ma  *n  do  amaolnlch  tha 
tighinn  a  ghold  nan  òigeach  dhubh  agamta.**  Cliaidh  caangal  aaa 
tri  chaoil  go  daor  *t  gu  docair  a  char  air  Conal  Crbbhi,  *8  thilgaadh  «1 
chil  na  moine  e,  Vcbaidh  triUir  mhacan  hgh  a  tbolrt  anhird  ttakUdr. 
'Nuair  a  lion  na  fir  a  bha  gu  h-hrd  Uul  ftfin  Ihn  do  bhhidh,  *8  da 
dheoch,  *t  tnn  a  tmaoinich  an  righ  fioa  a  char  a  nioa  air  Conal  Crbhhly 
a  dh*  innteadh  tgeuUchd.  Cha  bu  ruith  do  mhac  mbr  an  ligh  ach 
lenm  tloa,  g'a  iarraidh.  Thnirt  an  i)gh,  **  Thig  a  n\oa  an  mh  a  bh^at 
liath,  *t  innit  dbuinn  igeulHchd.**  **  Inntidh  mi  tin,*  thnirt  aaaa, 
"  ma  gbeibh  mi  fiach  innteadh,  *t  cha  *d  e  mo  cheann  f  h^ln  na  oeaan 
aon  do  *n  chuideachd."  "  Gbeibh  tlm  tin,"  thuirt  an  rìgh.  <*  Toad  i 
thall  an  tin,  *t  '^isdibh  ri  tgeulachd  Cbonail  Chrobhi,**  thuhl  an  righ  I 
•*  'Nam'  ^hiir  òg,  bha  mi  'giasgach  latha  aig  taobh  aibhne,  'athhinig 
long  mhor  teacbad  orra ;  tliuirt  iad  Hum  'an  gabhainn  a'  m'  (phlloi) 
gu  dbol  an  Kòimli ;  thuirt  ml  gu  'n  dèanainn  e,  ague  na  h-uil*  hita, 
do  'n  migeamaid,  dh'  f  beòraicheadh  iad,  am  b'e  tiud  an  Rblmhf  *a 
theirinn-ta  nach  b'i,  't  cha  robh  flot  agam,  C'ait'  air  an  t-taoghal  mhbr 
an  robh  an  Ròimh.  Tlihinig  tinn  mu  dlieireadh  gu  h-eilean  a  bha  'a 
tin.  Chaidh  tinn  air  t\r  agut  cbaldh  mite  a  ghabliail  trhld  ftadh  aa 
eiiean,  agut  dur  a  thill  ml  air  m'  ait,  bha  'n  long  air  falbb.  Bha  mi 
*n  tin  air  m'  fhagail  leam  f  h^in,  't  cha  robh  fiot  agam  de  a  dhèanalna. 
Bha  mi  'dol  teacbad  air  tigh  a  bha  'n  tin,  't  chunnaio  ml  bean  rl 
eaoineadh.  Dh'  f  heòraich  mi  dbi,  de  'm  brbn  a  blia  orra?  Thuirt  I 
rium  'gu  *n  do  bhbtaicli  ban-oighre  an  eiiean  to  bho  cheann  tea 
aeacbduinnean  ag^t  gu  'n  robh  iad  a'  feithearoh  ri  brhthair  dhi  'bha 
air  falbb  o*n  bhaile,  ach  gu  'n  robh  i  ri  'tlbdbiacadb  an  latha  to.  Bha 
iad  a'  cruinneachadb  gut  an  tiodhlacadb,  't  bha  mite  "nam  maaag, 
't  'nuair  a  chuir  iad  tics  annt  an  uaigh  i,  chuir  iad  poc'  olr  fhidh 
'oeann,  't  poc'  airgid  fuidh  cttan.  Tbuirt  mise  rium  f  h^in,  gu  'm 
b'f  hebrr  tud  agam  f  hèin,  nach  robh  e  gu  feum  aam  bith  dh'  ite. 


80BULA0HD  OHONAIL  GHBOBHUL        1 39 

'K«tlr  a  thàinig  an  oldbcht  thill  mi  air  m'  als  gna  an  naigii,  *BnaÌr 
a  chladhaich  ml  *n  naigli,  *f  a  bha  mi  tighian  a  nkw  Mi  an  Iw  's  Mi 
aa  airgiod,  nig  ml  air  a  ehlach  a  bha  air  banl  na  li-naiglia.  Tbidt  a 
cUaeh  a  nnai,  ^  bha  mba  obmhladh  rit  a  ehailkaeh  mharbh  an  da. 
Air  do  IhimhM,  a  iVgh  BIrinn,  *a  air  mo  Ihlmh-ia,  ga*s  laor  «^  mnr 
robh  mi  ni  ba  chmaidlfoòaBhladh  ria  a  ehaHUch  na  tha  mi  *ki  to  fo 
tlodid-aa,  *s  dhil  ri  dol  as  agam.  "Hal  Hal  abh^ktliath,  thhialg 
Uuiaaansln,achchaUkithttaianao.**  "  Tholr  dhomh  a  nia  ilach  m* 
angaal,**  arM  Conal.  **  On  dt  tin/*  thnirt  an  i^gh.  Tha  mac  mbr 
ilgh  ihawiinn,  agna  nigfaeaa  mhbr  i)gh  Eirinn  a  bhi  air  am  pbaadh  ri 
*cMIK  agna  fear  do  na  h-òigeich  bhlàra,  dhubha  na  thocfaaradh.** 
"Ohoibh  thtt  fin,  thnirt  an  rtgh."  Chaidh  bainaehd  air  Conal 
Orbbhi,  *f  eeangal  nan  tri  chaoil  a  ehnir  air  gn  daor  *s  gn  dbcair,  *s  a 
tirilgaU  an  ehil  na  moine,  *s  eliaidh  banaia  flchead  oidbeha  's  flehcad 
latha  a  dhèanamh  do'ta  chhraid  bg.  *Nnair  a  bha  hut  agithaa  ainag 
Ithaadh  'f  ag  òl,thairt  an  righ,  "gn  *m  bYhehrr  lloa  a  chnlr  aba 
bhAtUatb/f  gn'ninnaeadhtf  gndtmarfhnair  tf  aiannagh."  Cha 
ba  ndth  aeh  lonm  la  mae  maadhooaeh  an  righ  gu  dol  g*a  iaraldh. 
Bha  a  dnntaach  gu  'Ciigheadh  a  pòoadh  dha  f  h^ln,  mar  f  hoair  a  d*a 
bhrhthair.  Chaidh  e  akM  *s  thng  e  nkM  a.  Thnirt  an  i)gh»  "  Thig  a 
nkM  *s  innk  dhninn  donnaa  a  f  hnair  thn  as  an  uaigh.*  "  Innaidh  mi 
da,"  thnirt  Conal  Crobhi,  **  ma  gholbh  ml  flaeh  Inmeadh,  *s  cha  "ki  e 
MM  chaann  fi^,  na  caann  h-aon  a  tha  ta  ehnidoaehd."  "Ghaibh 
thn  ahi,*  thnirt  an  righ. 

Bha  mba  an  sin  gna  an  latha.  Thhinig  brhthair  na  ban-oigfart 
dhaohaidh,  'f  dh*  fhenmadh  a  lealladh  d'a  phiSthar  f  haiefain  agna 
dar  abha  lad  a dadhach  na  h-naigha, glilaodh  mlaa,0  bdr  air  Ihlmh 
am  I  *&  am  faar  nadi  fknadh  ri  *bhogfaa  dia  *n  r  haaadh  rl  *dilaidhaamli, 
*a  lad  a  glaodhaidi  go  *n  robh  am  fear  bn  mhiota  an  dnd,  *s  bha  mlia 
aha  hmth  ri  h-aon  acafh^in.  Bha  ml  *n  dn  air  faadh  an  ailaan  gn  *n 
f  hioa  d4  *n  taobh  a  radidnn.  Thhlnig  ad  *n  dn  tartnfam  air  trihir 
ghfllaan  òga,  '•  lad  a  euir  dirann. 

Dh'  fhebraidi  mi  dbinbh,  "  Dè  a  bha  hut  a  dèanamh  mar  dnd.** 
Thnirt  lad  "da  mo  ghnothnchia  da  bha  hut  a dtenamh."  «Und I 
Had  I*  ar»a «« mi  f  h^n,  innddb  dbhdhorah  d4  tha  dbh  a  dkanamh.** 
"Mata,"  thoirt  iadian,  "thng  famhair  mòr  air  fdbh  ar  piothar  '• 
tha  dnn  a  coir  dirann  feneh  eo  againn  a  ihiUL  doa  do  *n  toll 
aa  g'a  h.iarniidh."  Chair  mba  craan  bo  *•  dm  robh  ann  adi 
g«*n  d*  thidnig  an  crann  orm  f  h^  gn  dol  doa  g*  a  h-larraidh. 
Ldg  lad  dot  mi  ann  an  diabh.  Bha  an  dn  an  aoo  bhoirionnadi 
ba  bhòidhcha  a  diimnaie  ml  riabh,  *a  i  ^^raa  math  bir  far  «/ 
-""--  drghL    "01   thalrt,**  Im  riam,  fh^  "da  mar  thhlnig    ^ 


1 40  WB8T  HIGHLAND  TALK. 

thma  an  to?*"  * Thklnig  mijt a  nuas  ga d*  iairaidh  tha do  tluiiiir 
bbràitbrean  a  feltheamh  ort  aig  beu)  an  toUi,  agna  enlridh  aibh  a 
nuaa  an  diabh  am  mkireach  gu  m*  iarraidh-aa.**  **  Ma  hhtthaaa  ad 
beò  't  maith,  's  mlfr  bi  cba  'n  'eil  atharrach  air."  Cha  robh  mi  ach 
goirid  au  sin  a  noair  a  chuala  mi  tUipim  *a  itararaJdi  a  tighlnn 
aig  an  fbanihair.  Cba  rubb  fios  agam  càltt  an  laehaina  aai 
falach ;  acb  cbunnalc  ml  dUn  òir  *a  airgid  an  taobb  thall  o^nli 
an  f  barobalr.  Smaotnicb  ml  nacb  robb  bi(t  air  b^th  a  b*  f  haàir 
dhomb  dol  am  folacb  na  *maasg  an  òlr.  Tbblnig  am  ftunhair  a 
•tigb,  *8  cailleach  mharbb  slaodadb  ria  gavb  barralj  brbig*  aigt. 
Sbeall  t  sbioa  *•  sbeall  t  tbuat,  's  dar  nacb  fac  e  la*  air  tboiaaadi 
air,  leig  a  burrall  mòr  caoinUlb  aa.  Tbug  a  datbadb  air  na  caOla- 
acban  roimb  *n  gbealbban  *s  db'  itb  a  iad.  Cba  robb  f  bioa  aig  aa 
f  bambair  an  to  da  *n  rud  a  b*  f  hakrr  a  cbamadb  f  badal  deth,  aoh 
•maointicb  •  gu  'n  racbadb  •  a  cbunutas  a  cbuld  olr  a*s  airgid.  Cha 
robb  a  acb  goirid  an  sin  'nuair  a  cbulr  e  lamb  air  mo  cbaann  f  b^a. 
**  A  Bbtfiit  i  **  tbuirt  am  fambair,  **  's  loma  drocb  rod  a  rinn  Urn  riamh 
mu  *n  do  smaoinicb  tbu  tigbinn  an  to  a  tbolrt  air  fklbb  a*  bholrinnaich 
bbòidbaach  a  bb*  agam-aa."  **  Cha  *n'eil  fanm  agamaa  ort  an  noebd,  aoh 
*s  ta  gbUnas  m'  f  biuclan  mocb  am  mblreacb.  fiba  a  bbtfiat  agitb  'a 
cbaidil  e  'n  dtfigb  na  caillicb  itbeadb.  Cbunnalc  mi  blor  mòr  fabla  ri 
taobb  a  ghealbhain.  Cbuir  mi  'n  (els-meadboln  an  teine  am  blor  iar- 
uinn,  gus  an  robb  e  dearg.  Bha  'm  famhair  'na  tbrom  cbadal,  'a  a  bbanl 
fosgailte,  's  e  'rbcbdail  's  a  B^ideil.  Thug  mi  'm  bior  dearg  aa  an  taina, 
*a  cbuir  ml  sios  am  beul  an  f  bambair  e.  Thug  a  grad  leum  gu  taobb 
tball  na  b-uaimh,  '•  bhuail  e  ceann  a  bbior  ris  a'  bballa  '•  cbaidb 
a  macb  roi  *n  cbeann  eile.  Rug  ml  air  claidbeamb  mòr  an 
f  liamb«ir,  agua  le  aon  bbeum,  cbuir  mi  'n  ceann  dbetb.  Air  an 
latlia  mbireach,  thbinig  an  cliabh  a  nuaa  gu  m*  iarraidb  f  b^n.  Acb 
amaolnidi  mi  gu  *n  Uonninn  an  cliubh  do  db'  or  *s  do  db*  airgiod  an 
f  bamhair,  'b  dar  a  bha  e  'm  meadhon  an  tuill,  le  cudtbrom  an  òir  *a  an 
airgid,  bhria  an  iris,  tbuit  mi  iiuas  a  measg  clilacban,  *•  phris,  *•  dbrl% 
*•  air  do  Ibimhsa,  a  rìgh  Eirinn,  's  air  mo  Ibimba  ge  *iiaor  a,  bba  mi  "n 
cba  bu  cbruaidbe  na  tlia  mi  nocbd  fu  t'iochdsa,  '•  dull  agam  ri  do!  aa.** 
"  All  I  a  bbdist  liath,  tlikiuig  tbu  aa  an  sin,  acb  chat  6id  tbu  as  an  so»** 
ars*  an  rìgb.  **  Tboir  dliomh  a  nls  fiach  m'  urageul,"  araa  Conal.  "  Da 
sin  7  "  tbuirt  an  r\gb.  **  Tha  mac  maadbonscb  rigli  shasuinn  's  nigbean 
mbcadbonacb  rtgb  EIrinn  a  blii  air  am  pbsadb  ri  *chtfile  '•  fear  do  na 
h-bigeicb  bblkra,  dbubha  mar  tbochradb."  **  Tacbraidb  sin/*  tbuirt 
an  rigb.  Cbaidb  beireacbd  air  Conal  Cròbbi  *s  a  cheangal  la  tri 
cbinn  cbaoil,  sa  thilgeadh  an  cuil  na  mòine,  '•  cbaidb  banais  ficbead 
oidbcbe  's  ficbead  latba  a  dbèanamb  do  'n  cbbraid  big.    An  sin,  'nuair 


«4« 


W  ^^'c 


lK,«tliaMÌaàf 
Ui  bòUhi 
tUgcadh  faid 
trikir  dhAoÌM  croehta 
AS«lili,agiiiUiAlaiM 
■  iiwMiichtiia  t«  CMS  n  àite  do  Idaibh.*    Agfu  a 
A  tkyaif  M  famlwtfeHi  dkMkMdk  gu '■  disadr,  tbcirMdh  1 
dUrth,  "^8  e  H»  febil  aa  Waibh,  '■  tlMÌfaadh  fear  eUc,"  cha  'a  a. 

f«  *B  radMdli  a  a  tkoirt  alaaif  a  fear  do  aa  bba 
f«  taioaadk  a  ea  dlrfa  *^a  Mfl  aa  Waibk  a  bha  iad 
HitlMadlL  "S  ad  fb«a  a  dicad  f  tear  a  thachair  ona,  *^  air  da 
MbI^  a  fflfli  Eiriaa,  'a  air  mo  fttailwa,  ga  laor  a,  arar  robh  mi  aaa 
aa  iiaaidli  i^fca  ni  b«  aibò  *aaak  a  bba  *b  itaoig  a  Ugbiaa  aaam,  aa 
tiM  aai  aacM  fo  tlocbdM  *s  dbU  ri  dol  aa  agaaiL**  «A  bb«atliatb, 
tbbWf  tbaaaaaifta,adidiad*aiigUMataaao,**art'aai)gb.  "Tboir 
dbaab  a  aia  daais  m*  arigaaL**  •  Gbaibb  tba  ftn,"  art*  aa  rtgh. 
•■  *8  a  MO  dbaai8»  hmc  bg  rtgb  Sbaaaiaa,  *■  aigbaan  bg  rigb  Eirian  a 
bU  paada,  *t  fair  do  as  b-bigeicb  dbabha  aur  thocbradb.  Cbaidb 
bajfiacbd  air  Coaal  Crbbbi,  'ta  dwaagal  la  dna  nan  tri  cbaoila  ga 
daar  *■  ga  docair,  *•  a  tbilgaadb  tkM  aa  cbO  aa  nibiiie,  *•  cbaidb  banato 
idMad  latha  *8  flcbead  oiUbcba  a  dbèanaiab  do  *b  cbbraid  big.  *Naair 
a  bba  iad  ag^tb 'g  itbeadb  *f  a  g*  bl,  iboirt  aa  rtgb, «  ga  b*f  babrr  a  bb«tt 
Hatb  ad  a  tboirt  a  n\<m,  a  dh*  inaaaadb  da  mar  tbbinig  a  bbbrr  na 
craldM.*'  Tbag  iad  an  to  a  o^oa  mi  f  b^a.  "  Tbig  a  nVoa,  a  bb^st 
Ualb  an  to,  *s  innia  dhnina  de  Bitr  fboair  tba  Uiarr  na  Croielia.** 
" faariilh  mi  fin*  araa  mi  fb^n,  **ma  gbaibb  mi  doait  mbaitb.** 
«Qbaibb  tbn  sin,**  tbnirt  an  rigb.  (WcU)  a  nnair  a  gbabb  na 
dinnair  bba  iad  ^^tb,  *§  tbait   iad  'nan  eadal. 


I  4a  WBBT  HIGHLAND  TALB. 

'Nualr  a  cboniiAÌo  mÌM  wa,  thkinig  ml  nuas  *•  thug  •*  bliean  dhoadi 
cUddheamh  m6r,  hunch  lolait  a  bha  aig  fear  do  aa  famhalraaiH  *a 
cha  robh  mi  fada  a  tilgeadh  nan  ceann  do  na  flunhahraan.  Bha  ad 
fhAn  *s  am  bolrionnich  an  so  gnn  fhios  againn  donnas  a  ghdhbaamaid 
a  n\oa  a*  uamh  an  f  hamhuir.  Dh'  f  haibh  dnn  gn  oaanii  ahVoa  aa 
h-nafanh  's  lean  smn  an  sin  rathad  cnmhang  roi  chnag  gns  an  d* 
thàinig  sinn  gu  solus  *s  gu  bior-linn  Iningeanach  an  f  hamhahr. 
Smnainich  mi  fhdin  gum  pillinn  sir  m*  ais  agus  gu  *n  Inchd- 
aichinn  a  bhior-linn  le  6r's  le  airgiod  an  fhamliair,  agna  mar  to 
f  h<nn  rinn  mi.  Dh'  f  halbh  mi  leis  a  bhior-linn  fo  shiol  gns  an  d* 
thkinig  mi  gu  h-«ilean  nach  b*  aitlint  dhomh.  Chaidh  an  long,  *s  am 
boirionach,  *s  an  leanabh  a  thoirt  nam,  *s  fagar  mise  an  sin  gn  tighin 
dhachaidh  mar  a  b*f  heàrr  a  dh*  f  haodalnn.  Fhuair  mi  dhachaidh  aon 
uair  eile  do  Sbasunn,ged  tha  mi  *n  so  a  nochd.  Qhlaodh  boirionnaeh 
a  bha  na  loidhe  san  t-seomar,  **  O  a  r^h,  beiribh  air  an  duint  so.** 
**  Btt  mhise  am  boirionach  a  bha  *n  sin,  *s  bu  tnsa  an  leanabh."  *S  ana 
an  so  a  bha  *m  mess  air  Conal  Cròbhi,  *s  thug  an  rìgh  dha  a  bhÌor-Una 
Ihn  òir  's  airgid  an  f  hamhsir  's  rinn  e  rioghaehd  Shasuinn  cho  beartadi 
*s  a  bha  i  riamh. 

This  story  was  told  to  me  at  InTerary,  April  25,  1859,  bj 
Gillies.  It  was  told  with  the  air  of  a  man  telling  a  serious 
story,  and  anxious  to  tell  it  correctly.  The  narrative  was  inter- 
larded with  explanations  of  the  words  used,  and  the  incidenta 
described.  Those  who  sat  about  the  fire  argued  points  in  the 
story.  These  were  John  MacKenzie,  fisherman ;  John  Mac- 
Donald,  travelling  tinker ;  John  Clerk,  our  host,  formerly  miller 
to  the  Duke  of  Argyle ;  and  some  others,  whose  names  I  have 
forgotten  The  story  is  very  correctly  written.  I  took  notes  at 
the  time,  and  they  agree  with  the  Qaelic  as  written  by  Hector 
Urqnhart,  from  the  dictation  of  Gillies. 


VII. 

THE  TALE  OF  CONNAL. 
From  Kenneth  MftcLennan,  Pool  Ewe. 

THERE  was  a  king  over  Eirinii  once,  who  was  named 
King  Cruachan,  and  he  had  a  son  who  was  called 
Connal  MacJtCigh  Gruachan.  The  mother  of  Connal 
died,  and  his  faUier  married  another  woman.  She  was 
for  finishing  Connal,  so  that  the  kingdom  might  belong 
to  her  own  posterity.  He  had  a  foster  mother,  and  it 
was  in  the  house  of  his  foster  mother  that  he  made  his 
home.  He  and  his  eldest  brother  were  right  fond  of 
each  other ;  and  the  mother  was  vexed  because  Connal 
waa  ao  fond  of  her  big  son.  There  was  a  bishop  in 
the  place,  and  he  died ;  and  he  desired  that  his  gold 
and  silver  should  be  placed  along  with  him  in  the 
gnnre.  Connal  was  at  the  bishop's  burying,  and  he 
saw  a  great  bag  of  gold  being  placed  at  the  bishop's 
head,  and  a  bag  of  silver  at  his  feet^  in  tlie  grave. 
Connal  said  to  liis  five  foster  broUiors,  that  Uiey 
would  go  in  search  of  the  bishop's  gold ;  and  when 
they  reached  the  grave,  Connal  asked  them  which  they 
woidd  rather  ;  go  down  into  the  grave,  or  hold  up  the 
flagstone.  They  said  that  they  would  hold  up  the 
flag.  Connal  went  down ;  and  whatever  the  squealing 
was  that  they  heard,  they  let  go  the  flag  and  they  took 
to  their  aoles  home.     Here  he  was,  in  the  grave  on 


1 44  WIST  HIOHLAMD  TALBS. 

top  of  the  bishop.  Wlien  the  five  of  foster  broQien 
reached  the  house,  their  mother  waa  somewhat  move 
sorrowful  for  Connal  than  she  would  have  been  for  the 
fiya  At  the  end  of  seven  mornings,  there  went  a 
company  of  young  lads  to  take  the  gold  out  of  the 
bishop's  grave,  and  when  they  reached  the  grave  ihsj 
threw  tlie  flag  to  the  side  of  tlie  further  wall ;  Connal 
stirred  below,  and  when  he  stirred  they  went|  and  they 
left  each  arm  and  dress  they  liad.  Connal  arose^  and 
he  took  with  him  tlie  gold,  and  arms  and  dress,  and  he 
reached  his  foster  mother  with  them.  They  were  ail 
merry  and  lighihearted  as  long  as  the  gold  and  ailyer 
lasted. 

There  was  a  great  giant  near  the  place,  who  had  a 
great  deal  of  gold  and  silver  in  the  foot  of  a  rock ;  and 
he  was  promising  a  bag  of  gold  to  any  being  that 
would  go  down  in  a  creel.  Many  were  lost  in  this 
way  ;  when  the  giant  would  let  them  down,  and  they 
would  fill  the  creel,  the  giant  would  not  let  down  the 
creel  more  till  they  died  in  the  hole. 

On  a  day  of  days,  Connal  met  with  the  gianti  and 
he  promlsed'^Im  a  bag  of  gold,  for  that  he  should  go 
down  in  the  hole  to  fill  a  creel  with  the  gold.  Connal 
went  down,  and  the  giant  was  letting  him  down  with 
a  rope  ;  Connal  filled  the  giant's  creel  with  the  gold, 
but  the  giant  did  not  let  down  the  creel  to  fetch 
Connal,  and  Connal  was  in  the  cave  amongst  the  dead 
men  and  the  gold. 

When  it  beat  the  giant  to  get  another  man  who 
would  go  down  in  the  hole,  he  sent  his  own  son  down 
into  the  hole,  and  the  sword  of  light  in  his  lap,  so  that 
he  might  see  before  him. 

When  the  young  giant  reached  the  ground  of  the 
cave,  and  when  Conual  saw  him  he  caught  the  sword 
of  lights  and  he  took  off  the  head  of  the  young  giant 


THB  TALI  OP  OOmiAL.  I45 

Then  Connal  put  gold  in  the  bottom  of  the  creel, 
and  he  put  gold  over  him ;  and  then  he  hid  in  the 
midet  of  the  cieel|  and  he  gave  a  poll  at  the  rope. 
The  giant  drew  the  creel,  and  when  he  did  not  see  hb 
matf  he  throw  the  croel  over  the  top  of  his  head. 
Oonnal  leaped  oat  of  the  croel,  and  the  black  back  of 
the  giant's  head  (being)  towaida  him,  he  laid  a  awift 
hand  on  the  awoid  of  lighti  and  he  took  the  head 
oif  the  giant  Then  he  betook  himaelf  to  his  foster 
mothei^a  honae  with  the  creel  of  gold  and  the  gianVa  «/ 
twm|dLfitiight 

After  this,  he  went  one  daj  to  hunt  on  Sliamh  na 
leiiga  He  was  going  forwards  till  he  went  into  a 
great  cave.  He  saw,  at  the  upper  part  of  the  cave^  a 
fine  fair  woman,  who  was  throsting  Ùie  flesh  stake  at  a 
big  lamp  of  a  baby ;  and  every  thrust  she  would 
give  the  spit^  the  babe  would  give  a  laugh,  and  she 
would  b^gin  to  weep.  Connal  spoke^  and  he  said, — 
**  Woman,  what  ails  thee  at  the  child  without  reason  t" 
**  Oh,  said  she,  "  since  tliou  art  an  able  man  thyself, 
kill  the  baby  and  set  it  on  this  stake,  till  I  roast  it  for 
the  giant**  He  caught  hold  of  the  baby,  and  he  put  a 
plaid  that  he  had  on  about  the  babe,  and  he  hid  the  v^ 
baby  at  the  side  of  the  cava 

Then  wero  a  great  many  dead  bodies  at  the  side  of  ^^.y  - 
the  cave^  and  he  set  one  of  them  on  the  stake,  and  the 
woman  was  roasting  it  t. . '   * 

Then  was  heard  under  ground  trombling  and  thun- 
der coming,  and  he  would  rather  that  he  was  out  Here 
he  sprang  in  the  place  of  Uie  corpse  that  was  at  the  fire, 
in  the  very  midst  of  the  bodies.  The  giant  came,  and 
he  asked,  ''Was  the  roast  ready t**  He  began  to  eat, 
and  he  said,  **  Fiu  fau  hoagrich  ;  it's  no  wonder  that 
thy  own  flesh  is  tough ;  it  is  tough  on  thy  brat'* 

When  the  giant  had  eaten  that  one,  he  went  to  count 

L 


\ 


1 46  WIST  UianLAMD  TALB. 

iho  boclioe  ;  and  tho  way  lio  hod  of  ooanting  thorn 
to  catch  hold  of  them  by  tho  two  niuiUB  of  tiie  legi  and  to 
to  t068  them  post  the  top  of  his  head ;  and  hecoimtod 
ihem  back  and  forwards  thus  three  or  foortimea;  andaa 
he  found  Connal  aomewhat  heayier,  and  that  he  waa  aoft 
and  fat|  he  took  that  alice  out  of  him  from  the  hack  of 
i  his  head  to  his  groin.  He  roasted  this  at  the  fire^  and  ha 
ute  it|  and  then  he  fell  asleep.  Connal  winked  to  the 
woman  to  set  the  flesh  stake  in  the  fire.  She  did  thi% 
and  when  the  spit  grew  white  after  it  was  red,  ha 
thrust  Uio  spit  through  the  giant'a  hearty  and  the  giant 
was  dead. 

Then  Connal  wont  and  he  set  the  woman  on 
her  path  homewards,  and  then  he  went  home  him- 
sclt  His.  stepmother  sent  him  and  her  own  son  to 
steal  tha- whitofacod  horse  from  the  King  of  Italy, 
*'  Eadailt  ;**  and  they  wont  together  to  steal  the  whito- 
j  J  faced  horse,  and  every  time  tlioy  would  lay  hand  on 
liim,  tho  whitefaced  horse  would  let  out  an  ialt  (neigh  t). 
A  "  company  **  came  out,  aud  they  were  caught*  The 
binding  of  the  tlirce  smalls  was  laid  on  them  straitly 
and  painfully.  '*  Thou  big  rod  man,"  said  the  king, 
*'  wort  thou  ever  in  so  hard  a  case  as  tlmt  f*  **  A 
little  tightening  for  me,  and  a  loosening  for  my  com- 
rade, and  I  will  tell  tlieo  that,**  said  CounaL 

The  Queen  of  the  Eiiduiit  was  beholding  Connal. 

Tlicn  Connal  said  : — 

"  Rcven  mornf  so  sadlj  mine, 
As  I  dwelt  on  the  bishop's  top, 
'Hiat  vÌHÌt  was  longest  fur  me, 
lliongh  t  WAS  the  strongest  rojself. 
At  the  end  of  the  seventh  mom 
An  opening  grave  was  Hcen, 
And  I  would  le  up  bofore 
1  he  one  that  was  soonest  down. 


THB  TALK  OP  GONNAL.  1 47 

They  thought  I  was  a  dead  mao, 
As  I  rose  from  the  moald  of  earth ; 
At  the  first  of  the  harsh  horstiiig 
They  led  their  arms  and  their  dresses. 
I  gave  the  leap  of  the  nimhle  one, 
As  I  was  naked  and  hare. 
T  was  sud  for  me,  a  ragahond. 
To  enjoy  the  bishop's  gold." 

**  Tighten  well,  and  right  weU,**  said  the  king ; 
''  it  was  not  in  one  good  place  that  he  ever  was ;  great 
is  the  ill  he  has  dona"  Then  he  was  tightened  some- 
what tighter,  and  somewhat  tighter ;  and  the  king 
add,  **  Thou  groat  red  man,  wert  thou  ever  in  a  harder 
ease  than  that  1 "  "  Tighten  myself,  and  let  a  little 
slack  with  this  one  beside  me,  and  I  will  tell  thee 
thai" 

They  did  that     *'  I  was,"  said  he» 

*'  Nine  moms  in  the  cave  of  gold  ; 
My  meat  was  the  body  of  bones, 
Sinews  of  feet  and  hands. 
At  the  end  of  tho  ninth  mom 
A  descending  creel  was  seen  ; 
Then  I  caught  hold  on  the  creel, 
And  laid  gold  above  and  below ; 
I  made  my  hiding  within  the  creel ; 
I  took  with  me  the  glaive  of  light, 
The  luckiest  tam  that  I  did." 

They  gave  him  the  next  tightening,  and  the  king 
asked  him,  "Wert  thou  ever  in  case,  or  extremity, 
as  hard  as  that  ?  "  *'  A  little  tightening  for  myself, 
and  a  slack  for  my  comrade,  and  I  will  tell  thee  that" 

They  did  this. 

**  On  a  day  on  Sliabh  na  leirge. 
As  I  went  into  a  cave, 
I  saw  a  smooth,  lair,  mother-eyed  wife, 
llimsting  tho  stake  for  the  lleth 


148  WBT  HIGHLàirD  TALM, 

AtftyoangnnreMoningoliild.  '  Then,' «Ud  I, 

*  What  oaiuet  thj  grief,  oh  wiie, 
At  that  unreatoning  child  f^ 

*  Though  he  '■  tender  and  comelj,*  aaid  ibe, 

*  Set  thii  babj  at  the  fire.* 
Then  I  caught  hold  on  the  hoj, 
And  wrapped  mj  *  manndal'  around ; 
Then  I  brought  up  the  great  big  oorpee 
That  wat  up  in  the  front  of  the  heap ; 
Then  I  heard,  Turetar,  Tbntar,  and  Torandch, 
The  Tory  earth  mingling  together ; 
But  when  it  wat  hia  to  be  fallen 
Into  the  ionndeit  of  aleep, 
There  fell,  bj  mjaeli;  the  foreii  fiend ; 
I  drew  back  the  itake  of  the  roaiti 
And  1  throat  it  into  hit  maw." 

There  was  the  Queen,  and  she  was  listening  to  eaeh 
thing  that  Connal  suffered  and  said ;  and  when  she 
hoard  this,  she  sprang  and  cut  each  binding  that  was 
on  Connal  and  on  his  comrade  ;  and  she  said,  ^  I  am 
the  woman  that  was  there ; "  and  to  the  king,  "  thoa 
^(  ^^        art  the  son  that  was  yonder." 

Connal  married  the  king's  daughter,  and  together 
_.    they  rode  the  wliitefaced  horse  home  ;  and  there  I  left 
them. 

From  HiOTOB  UnQunAar,  June  27, 1859.  Recited  by  Kn- 
HSTU  MacLbhiian  of  Tumaig,  Pool  Ewe,  Roea-sbire,  aged  7U, 
who  learned  it  from  an  old  man  when  he  wat  a  boy. 


A 


SQEULACHD  CHONAILL. 

Bra  righ  air  EIrinn  aon  nair  da  'm  b-aiom  rigfa  Crnacban,  *•  bha 
mac  aig«,  ria  an  abradh  ltd  Gonall,  mac  ligh  Cniachan.  Ghaochafl 
màthair  Cbonaill,  agua  phòa  athair  bean  eile.     Bha  i  air  son  cu  r  at 


8GBULA0HD  OHONAILLb  1 49 

4ù  Chonall,  efanm  *•  ga*in  blodh  aa  ileghadMl  aig  a  iliochd  Uko. 
Bha  mnioM  efakhe  algi  nn,  agvs  *•  aon  aa  tigh  a  nhvlBa  bha  t 
'dèacamh  a  dhafthiMh.  Bha  e  f  h^  *»  a  bhràthafar  !m  •bine  to 
miMatafl  alg  a'  eh^De,  agvs  bhamhUhair  gamblaaaeh  air  ion  ga  robb 
Gooall  ebo  meaaail  aig  a  mae  mbr.  Bha  Baabdg  anna  aa  bitc^  agna 
duMdiafl  «,  agiit  dh*  iarr  e  ^B  i-br  1i  aa  (-airglod  aig«^  a  ehnhr  caida  ria 
aaaa  aa  oaigh.  Bba  Coaall  aig  Oodhlacadh  aa  Baaboig^  agat  ebaa- 
aaie  e  pòe  aiòr  bir  a  dot  aig  eeana  aa  Easboig^  agva  pòe  airgid  aig  a 
diaiaa  *i  aa  naigÌL  Thabliairt  Gooall  ri  ehoignaar  cliomh-dhaltan, 
*  ga  *rachadh  iad  air  thbir  br  aa  Baabnig^**  agaa  aar  a  rbiaig  iad  aa 
aaigh,  dh*  f  bebraich  ConaU  dhiobb-Mm.  "Co  b*  f haarr  lao  dot  iloa 
do  *a  oaigh  aa  *a  kae  a  chomaU  aaaa?**  Thairt  iadiaa  ga  oomadh 
lad  aa  kae  aoaa.  Chaidh  Coaall  tloa,agatgab*eagianihall  a  ehnal* 
iadaaa,  laig  iad  aa  aa  kae,  agat  thag  iad  aa  baiaa  aada  dharhaJdh. 
Bba  t  *a  to  'a  aa  aaigfa  tar  naia  aa  Eaalmig.  *Naair  a  ridaig  aa 
caignear  bhrbÌUiraaB  altnua  aa  tigh,  bha  *m  mbthair  ai  ba  bturbaaicha 
aitaoa  ChoaaUl  aa  bhithaadh  i  aiitoa  a  Ghbigaar.  Aa  oaaaa  atachd 
trbitbaaa,  dh*  f  halbh  Caldaachd  do  ghillaaa  bga  a  thoirt  aa  Mr  a 
aaigh  aa  aaaboig*  agat  aar  a  rbiaig  iad  aa  aaigh,  thilg  iad  aa  kae  ri 
taobh  a  bballa  thaU.  Ohlaab  Coaall  ddoa,  agaa  oar  a  gbloaia,  dh* 
f  halbh  iadaaa :  dh*  f  hbg  iad  gaeh  arm  *a  aodach  'bha  aea ;  dh*eirieh 
Coaall,  's  thag  t  Itia  gach  br,  *a  gaeh  arm,  *a  gaeh  aodaeh,  'a  rhioig  • 
mhaioM  ehicha  laia.  Bba  iad  aiio  ga  sabhaeh,  tbliiach,  dio  tad,  *B  a 
ariiab  aa  t-br  *a  aa  t-airgiod.  Bha  £uahair  aibr  dihth  do*n  biCa^  aig 
aa  robh  mbraa  Mr  *a  airgid  aaa  aa  CoiaCrdgt,  agaa  bha  e  'gaalitaina 
poe  Mr  do  aaach  lam  bith  a  rachadh  akw  aaa  aa  eliabh.  Bha  aibraa 
air  aa  call  nuv  to.  Nor  a  laigaadh  am  Cuahalr  iloa  iad,  *a  a  Uoaadh 
lad  aa  Cliabh,  cha  eboireadh  am  Cuobair  aioa  aa  eliabh  taillidli,  gat 
am  bbaaicbaadh  iadaaa  'taa  toQ.  Latha  do  aa  m*ii— i^  «Ka<<hft»r 
Coaall  rif  aa  f  hamhab,  agat  gheall  e  poo  Mr  dha  airtoa  a  dhol  iloa 
do  *a  toll  a  Aoaadh  eliabh  de*a  br.  Chaidh  Coaall  ikia,  agaa 
bha  *m  famhair  *ga  kigiil  ùtm  U  rbp.  lioa  Coaal  eliabh  aa 
fhaoihair  do  *a  br,  ach  cha  do  laig  am  £uahair  tloa  aa  eliabh  air 
tboir  Chooaill,  *a  bha  Coaall  Ima  oaigh  maatg  aaa  daoiaa  aiarbha,  *a 
aa  bir.  *Noair  a  dh*  f halnlich  air  aa  fhamhair  doiaa  taUlidh 
f  liaoUiaa  a  rachadh  aioa  do  *a  toll,  choir  t  *mhao  f  h^  iloa  do  *a 
Ion  *a  aa  daidhoamh  tolob  air  oclid,  chom  *a  ga  Yaioaadh  t  roiaiha. 
Hor  a  rbiaig  am  (amhair  bg  groad  aa  h-oaindi,  *ia  etraaaaie  CoBaU 
a,  rag  t  air  a  chlaidbaamh  tholoit,  agaa  thog  a  *a  eeaaa  do  *a  fham 
hab  bg.  Choir  Cooall  aa  to  br  aaa  am  mbt  a*  elilalbh,  agat  chair 
a  br  oa  a  chcann :  rioa  t  *a  to  f  lialaeh  am  amadhoa  a*  oliUibh :  thag 
atarroiagair  aa  rbp}  tharraiag  am  faaihairaa  eliabh,  agaa  daraach 


I  50  WBBT  HIGHLAND  TALKS. 

fie  «  'mhao  *8a  chliabh,  ihilg  e  *n  diabh  thar  mollach  a  chino. 
Conall  at  a*  chliabh,  *a  dubh  cbhl  cinn  an  f  harohair  ria:  thng  •  grad 
làmh  air  a*  ehlaidhcamb  aholuia,  agua  tbog  t  *n  ccann  do  *u  fhamhaJr. 
Thug  e  *n  ia  tigh  a  mbuime  chkb'  air,  leia  a  chliabh  òir,  *a  daidh- 
eamh  Miluia  an  f  bamhair.  *Na  db^gh  to,  chaidh  a  latha  a  ahtalgdo 
ffhllabh  na  leirga.  Blia  a  gabhail  air  adhart,  gua  an  deach  •  atl|rh, 
do  dh'  uaiinh  mbòr.  Chunnaic  a  'n  uachdar  na  li-uaimh  bean  bhàii, 
bhrèagha  *s  i  putadh  bior  na  feola  ri  ulUdi  mòr  do  kanabb,  *a  na  h- 
uile  putadh  a  bha  iaa  *toirt  do  *n  bhior,  dlièanadli  an  loanabh  gain, 
*a  tbùlaicheadh  iaa  air  caoinaadh.  Labliair  Conall,  *a  Ihuldiairt  e, 
"  De  filth  do  bhrMn,  a  bhaan,  ria  an  òganach  gun  chiall.**  **  O  I**  oa 
iae,  **  bho  'n  ia  duine  tapaidh  thu  f  hèin,  marbh  an  leanabh,  *a  coir  ait  a 
bliior  su  e,  gua  an  ròbt  mi  e  do  *n  f  hamliair.**  Rug  a  air  an  leanabh, 
*s  chuir  a  'n  clt^òc  a  blia  air  mu  *n  leanabh,  *a  dli*  f  holuich  e  *n  leanabh 
am  taobli  nab-naimh.  Bha  mòran  do  chuirp  mbarbli*  an  taobhna 
h-uainib,  *a  chuir  a  faar  dbiubli  air  a*  bhior,  *a  blia  \a  bob-ionnach  *ga 
riisudb.  Chnalat  fo  *n  talanih,  crith  *a  tuirm  a*  tigbinn,  *a  b*  f  hèarr 
leii  gun  robh  a  'muigh :  leum  a  *n  ao  an  hita  *chuirp  a  blia  ria  an  taine, 
an  taia-mcadbon  nan  Corp.  Thbinig  am  famhair  *a  dh'  f  heòraSch  c, 
**  'n  robh  rbsU  bruich."  Thòisich  a  air  itheadh,  *a  tbubhairt  e,  '*fiu 
fou!  hoagrichi  cha  'n  lo^ibnadh  feòil  righinn  a  bhi  ort  fhdiii,  *a 
righinn  air  dM^can  i.'*  Dur  a  dh*  ith  am  famhair  am  frar  nd,  dh 
f  halbh  a  chunntadh  nan  corp,  agus  ae  'n  dòigh  chunntaia  a  bh*  aig 
orra,  baireachd  air  dhk  chaol  cuia'  orra,  agua  'gan  tillgeadb  aeachad 
tbar  muUach  a  chinn,  agua  chuont  a  air  ait  'a  air  iidhart  iad  mar  ao 
tri  no  ceithir  do  dh'  uairean ;  agua  bho  m  a  f  liualr  a  Conall  ni  tu 
truime,  'aa  bog  ream  liar,  thug  a  'n  atiall  ud  aa  bho  chhl  a  chinn  gu 
mhaoachan.  Rbiat  e  ao  ria  an  teioe,  'a  dh'ith  a  i.  Thuit  a  'n  ain  'na 
chadal.  Smèid  Conal  air  a  bhoirionnacli,  bior  na  feola  chuir  'aan  taint. 
Rinn  i  ao,  agua  dur  a  dh'  f  liUa  ain  bior  geal  an  ddigh  bhi  dearyr, 
ahàth  a  *m  bior  troi'  chridhe  an  f  hamhair,  'a  bha  'm  famhair  marbh. 
Dh'  f  halbh  Conall  an  ao,  *a  chuir  a  'bbean  air  a  aliglie  dhachaidh. 
Chaidh  t  *n  ao  dhachaidh  a  f  hcin.  Chuir  a  mbuime  air  falbh  a  aa* 
mac  fhdin  a  ghoid  a  Dblhr-agban  bbo  righ  na  h-£adailr,  agua  dh* 
halbh  iad  a  ghoid  a  bhihr-aghau  le  cbuile,  agua  na  h-uile  imir,  a 
chnirtadh  iad  an  làimh  air  a  bhlkr-aghan,  Icigeadh  am  blhr-agban 
(iait)  aa.  Thhinig  cuideachd  a  mach  'a  chaidh  an  glacadh.  Chaidh 
ccangal  nan  tri  chuod  a  chuir  orra  gn  daor  'a  gn  daingcan.  **  Miir 
mhòr  rnaidh,"  ara'  an  rtgh,  'n  robh  thu  *n  cha  rianih  cho  cruaidh 
an  ain  ?'*  <*  Teannachadh  beag  dliouih  f  hdin,  agua  la»achadh  do  m* 
chonipaoach  'a  innaidh  mi  ain,"  ar»a  Coiiall.  lilia  baurigh  na  h- 
Eaiiailie  'ga  fhaicinn.    Tbubhairt  Conall  an  sin. 


BOBULAOHD  OHOKAILL.  1  5  I 

"  ScAchd  trkih  gn  bronach  dbomh, 
*8  mi  chomhnuidh  air  mnin  an  aatbaig. 
*Sann  leamaa  V  fhad*  a*  ch^lidh  tin, 
Gad  *aanii  leom  f  h^n  bo  treiaab 
An  eeann  na  aaarhdamh  trkth, 
Chunnacaa  valgh  *ga  foagladh, 
*S  i;a  b'a  bo  Inaitha  bhiodh  a  noaa  aea, 
*S  miaa  a  bhiodh  suaa  air  thoineach. 
Shaoil  laoaan  gn  *m  bn  roliarblian  ml, 
Dbo  *n  nir  thalmhaiilh  *8  mi  *g  Aridh, 
Ann  an  toisaach  a  gharbh^bhriatidh, 
Dh*  f  hag  lad  an  alrm  *«  an  eudach, 
Thng  misa  laom  an  Uialeagan, 
*Sml  ntiagta,  nochdta, 
])n  bhoclid  dhomhM  *a  mi  "m  f  bbgarrach, 
Uhi  maithaadh  hr  do  *n  Eaabnig.** 

"  Taannakhibh  a  gn  maith  *a  gn  ro  mhaitli,'*  an*  an  r)gh,  "cba  b* 
ann  an  aon  kita  maith  a  bha  a  riamli,  *«  mbr  an  t-olc  a  rinn  a.**  Chaidh 
an  Bin  a  theannachadh  ni  bn  teinna,  *a  ni  bu  telnne,  *a  thobhairt  an 
fUtht "  Flilr  mbòir  rnaidh,  *n  robh  thn  *n  cka  riamh  bn  chniaidh  na 
ala.**  "  1'eannaich  mi  f  h^o,  'a  leig  laaachadh  do  *n  'f  hear  ao  lafanh 
riam,  *a  innaidh  mi  'n  ain.**    Kinn  iad  to.    Blia  miaa  oa  a«an. 

"Naoi  tràllia  ann  ao  naimh  an  òir, 
*Sa  bu  bhiadh  domh  a*  cholainn  chnhmli, 
Feitliaan  chaa  ago*  Ihmh. 
An  oaano  an  nanidliaadh  trkth. 
Choooacaa  cliabh  a*  tigbinn  a  mhiin; 
Rog  mi  *D  aio  air  a*  chliabh, 
'8  choir  mi  6r  foiham  'a  br  thnram, 
*8  rinn  ml  m*  fliolach  ann  m  Vbliabh, 
*S  thog  mi  laam  an  claidbeamh  aolola 
Thm  ia  aona  rinn  mi  riamh.** 

Thug  iad  an  ath  tbeannacluidh  dha,  a*  dh*  fboighneachd  an  rk*h 
dlMlh,  "An  rol>h  Iho  *n  chs  na  h^lginn  riamh  clio  chniaidh  *ain?* 
*' Taannachadh  bcag  dhnmh  f  h<fio,  *a  latachadh  do  m*  chompanaeh, 
'a  lanaidh  ml  *n  ain.**    Kinn  iad  to. 

**  Latha  air  aliabh  na  leirga  dliomh 
*S  ml  dol  a  ateach  do  dh*  oamh, 
Cbnnnalc  ml  baan  mhin,  bhao,  mbathair-abnilaach 
*Si  poUdh  bior  na  feòla 
Bl  bganacli,  *aa  gun  chlall. 


I  52  WEBT  HIQHLAND  TALKS. 

Thabhairt  miae  tn  Bin, 

De  fàth  do  bhròin,  a  bhean^ 

RU  an  òganach  'tnach  ail  oeilUdh, 

*  Oir  a  mhin  oir  a  mhaÌM,*  an*  iae 

'  Cuir  an  leanabh  ao  ri  teallach ' 

Bog  mi  hi  ain  air  a  mhacan 

*S  aliuain  mi  mo  mlumndai  nimt 

'S  Uiug  mi  nioa  an  rod  mòr  colainn 

A  bha  ahoaa  an  tiu  na  tuima 

Chuala  mi  *n  aio,  turtar,  tartar,  agnt  turaraich 

Fior  thalamh  dol  am  measg  a  cUaila 

Ach  air  bhith  dlikaan  tuiteam 

Anna  an  t-auain  diadaii 

"S  an  do  thoit  fùatlian  na  coÌUa 

Thug  mi  tarming  air  bior  an  ròataidb 

'S  ahaòl  mi  and  ri  còrr  a  ghoila." 

Bha  a'  bhanrigh  fiddnn  'a  ag  èladaachd  gachni  bha  GonaU  ft* 
folang  *a  ag  radh,  agua  dur  a  dioal  i  ao,  laum  i  *a  gliaàrr  I  gftoh 
caangal  a  bha  air  Conall  'a  air  a  chompanacli,  agua  thabhairt  i,  *  *8 
mÌM  *m  boirionnach  a  bha  *n  ain,  agua  riaan  righ  *a  toaa  a  mae  ft  bhft 
*a  aiad.**  Phòs  Conall  nighean  an  righ,  *8  mharcalch  iad  la  chèUe  am 
blàradhan  dachaidh.    *Sdh  fhag  miseann  aain  iad. 

Redtad  by  Kenneth  MacLennan,  Tomaig,  Pool  Ewe,  Boaa-ahirt. 
Written  by  Hector  Urquhart,  June  27, 1859. 

4.  Another  atory,  which  aeema  to  be  a  fragment  of  thia  tale  made 
reaaonable,  forma  part  of  a  collection  very  well  written  in  tbe 
Qaelic  of  Qearrloch,  Roaa-ahire,  from  the  telling  of  old  men,  by 
Mr.  Thomaa  Cameron,  achoohnaater,  at  the  requeat  of  Gagood  H. 
MacKeniie,  Eaq.,  July  1859. 

Albxamdks  MaoDomald,  Intsrabdalb,  tella  bow  Uiadean 
Mor  Macllle  Phadraig,  a  local  hero,  famoua  for  ataying 
**Foahthan  **  (bogleaX  in  a  winter  that  waa  very  cold,  on  a  dfty 
of  hailing  and  anowing  (aowing  and  winnowing)  waa  taking  the 
way  of  **  A  BaBAionB  Muo»  "  (the  great  top),  and  waa  deter- 
mined to  reach  aa  far  aa  Lochbhraoin.  Coming  through  a  place 
called  Lead  leachacachan  mu  Thuath  (na  Fuath  ?),  he  fell  in  with 
a  woman,  and  he  aoon  fell  in  with  a  new-bom  child.  No  houae 
waa  near,  ao  he  killed  hia  horae,  pot  the  mother  and  child  in- 
aide,  and  left  them  in  the  anow.    He  went  for  help,  and  when 


THl  TALI  OF  OONNAL.  1 53 

1m  came  back  he  foood  them  wann  and  welL  He  took  care  of 
them  till  the  woman  could  do  for  hereeU|  and  the  chikl  grew  to 
bo  aa  able  lad.  He  waa  named  **  MaoMhnirich  a  cnraoh  an 
Bkh,"  which  name  haa  atnck  to  hie  race  to  thia  daj. 

After  thii  Uiadean  came  to  poTcrty.  On  a  cold  winter*i 
night  of  hailing  and  mowing,  he  waa  going  on  a  atreet  in  Don 
Bdin  (Edinburgh),  a  woman  pot  her  head  oat  of  a  window  and 
eriad,  **  It  it  cdd  thii  night  on  Leathad  leacachan  ma  Thaalh." 
**  It  ia,**  aaid  he.  When  the  heard  hia  Gaelic,  she  thoagbt  ahe 
waa  not  far  wrong,  and  aaked  him  in.  *'  What  ia  the  hardeat 
*Oath'  that  erer  befel  thee?*'  aaid  the  woman.  He  repeated  the 
atoiy,  and  ended  with, — **  And  tboagh  I  am  thia  night  in  Dan 
Bdin,  manj  ia  the  hard  iight  that  I  hare  wreatled  with.**  "  I  am 
the  woman  that  waa  there,  and  thia  ia  the  child,*'  aaid  ahe ;  and 
iba  cflered  him  ahelter  for  the  reat  of  hb  daya. 

Barely  theie  are  Connal,  the  robber ;  and  the  king  and  hia 
Bother ;  and  the  king^i  hone  pat  to  a  new  nae,  tranaferred  to 
the  Oowgate  from  Eirinn  and  Lochlann,  and  the  fbreata  of  Qer- 
many ;  bronght  down  from  the  dayi  of  Bindbad,  or  of  Ulyaaea, 
or  from  the  fifteenth  century,  from  the  age  of  romance  to  the 
niiieteenth  oentary  and  to  proae. 

6.  I  have  another  Teraion  of  thia  atory,  called  An  Gadaichi 
DoiB,  The  Black  Bobber,  told  by  Alexander  MacNeiU,  fisherman 
in  Barra*  and  written  by  Hector  MaoLean  in  Aogott  1869.  It 
variaa  moch  from  the  others.  The  oatline  is  nearly  the  aame, 
hot  the  pictarea  are  difierent.     I  hope  to  find  room  for  it. 

The  story  resembles — 

1st.  The  Bobber  and  hia  Bona,  referred  to  in  Grimm'a  third 
▼ohnne,  aa  taken  from  a  MB.  of  the  fifteenth  century.  An  old  rob- 
ber deaires  to  become  an  honest  man,  bat  his  three  sons  follow 
their  profession,  and  try  to  steal  the  queen's  horse.  They  are 
caoght,  and  the  old  robber  talla  three  storiea  of  hia  own  advea- 
torea  to  rescue  them. 

In  the  first,  he  is  caught  by  a  giant  and  about  to  be  eaten, 
bat  eaeapes  by  putting  out  the  giant's  eyes  with  '*  destroctÌTe  in- 
gredients.'* He  gets  out  of  a  caTO  by  putting  on  the  skin  of  a 
sheep.  He  puta  on  a  gold  ring  which  the  giant  gave  him,  which 
iBToea  him  to  call  oat  "  here  I  am."  He  bites  ofThia  own  finger, 
and  ao  eaeapes. 


154  WB8T  HIGHLAND  TALB. 

Next— In  ft  wilderneis,  haanted  bj  itrange  oreatarei,  ho  finds 
a  woman  about  to  kill  bor  cbild  at  a  dinner  for  tome  wild  men. 
He  makfls  bar  cook  a  banged  tbief  instead  ;  bangt  bimaelf  on  a 
tree  in  place  of  tbe  cooked  tbiei^  and  bat  a  slice  out  from  bii  side. 

Lastly,  tbo  giants,  frigbtened  by  a  clap  of  tbnnder,  mn  awaj ; 
be  returns  to  a  civilized  country,  and  tbe  queen,  as  a  reward  for 
bis  stories,  liberates  tbe  three  sons. 

2d.  Part  of  this  is  manifestly  tbo  tame  as  the  Adfentnrea  of 
Ulysses  in  tbe  Gave  of  the  Cyclop. — (Odyssey,  book  iz.) 

8d.  And  the  adventure  of  Sindbad  with  the  giants  and 
dwarfs,  on  bis  third  voyage  (Arabian  Nights).  The  Cat  adven- 
ture, in  the  Islay  version,  may  be  compared  with  8indbad*B 
meeting  with  the  serpents  and  with  the  elephants.     And 

4tb.  Witb  a  Highland  story,  of  some  laird  of  Rasa,  whote 
boat  was  upset  by  a  company  of  eats,  beaded  by  one  large  block 
cat ;  supposed  to  be  a  troop  of  witches  beaded  by  their  master. 

6.  Tbo  incident  of  being  buried  in  a  treasure  cave  with  the 
dead,  is  common  to  the  Arabian  Nights.  See  Sindbad*s  Fourth 
Voyage,  and  Alladdin ;  and  aIko, 

7.  To  tbe  Deccameron,  second  day,  novel  5 ;  where  a  man,  after 
a  number  of  adventures,  is  lowered  into  a  well  by  two  thieves. 
He  is  hauled  up  witb  a  wheel  and  a  rope  by  the  watch,  who  are 
frigbtened  and  run  away,  leaving  their  arms. 

Tbe  three  meet  once  more  ;  go  to  the  cathedral,  and  raise  up 
a  marble  slab  laid  over  tbe  grave  of  an  arcbbibhop.  When 
**  Andreuccio  "  has  gone  in  and  robbed  the  grave,  they  tend  bim 
back  for  a  ring,  and  drop  the  slab,  llie  priests  come  on  the 
same  errand  as  tbe  thieves  ;  be  frightens  tbera,  gets  out  with  tbe 
ring,  and  returns  to  Perugia  from  Naples — '*  having  laid  out  bis 
monev  on  a  ring,  whereas  tbe  intent  of  bis  journey  was  to  have 
bought  horses." 

In  all  these,  Greek,  Italian,  Arabic,  German,  and  Gaelic,  there 
is  a  general  resemblance,  but  nothing  more. 

I  have  given  three  versions  of  tbe  same  story  together,  as  an 
illnntration  of  the  manner  in  which  popular  tales  actually  exist ; 
and  as  specimens  of  language.  The  men  who  told  tbe  story  live 
as  far  apart  as  is  posuible  in  the  Highlands.  I  heard  one  of 
them  tell  it ;  each  has  his  own  way  of  telling  the  incidents ;  ond 
each  gives  something  peculiar  to  himself,  or  to  bis  locality,  which 


THB  TALB  OP  CONNAL.  1  5  5 

the  others  leeTe  oat.  Ewen  MAcLechlmn,  in  ditomtÌDg  the  M8S. 
ia  the  AclTociite'f  Library  in  1813,  referring  to  Deen  Mec- 
Oftggor'à  MS.,  written  eboat  1526,  eayt: — **  MacDougall  ia 
conpared  to  MacRasliinn,  the  Poljpheniae  of  onr  winter  tales.'* 
It  would  seem,  then,  that  this  story  has  been  long  known,  and  it 
ia  now  widd.f  spread  in  the  Bighlands. 

The  manners  and  cnstoma  of  the  king  and  his  tenant  are  verj 
highland,  so  far  at  thcj  can  be  referred  to  the  present  daj.  Pro- 
hablj  thej  are  eqnallj  tme  pictures  of  bygone  days.  The  king's 
•OBS  probably  visited  their  rassala,  and  got  into  all  manner  of 
•orapes.  The  vassals  in  all  probability  resented  insults,  and  re- 
belled, and  took  to  the  wild  woods  and  became  oatlaws.  So  the 
mill  was  probably  the  resort  of  idlers  and  the  place  for  news,  an 
il  still  is.  The  king,  in  all  likelihood,  lived  very  near  his  own 
•table,  for  there  are  no  rains  of  pakces ;  and  it  seems  to  have 
been  the  part  of  a  brave  man  to  submit  withoot  flinching,  to  have 
hii  wrists  and  ankles  tied  to  the  small  of  his  back,  and  be  **  tight  • 
•nod"  and  tortured;  and  then  to  recite  his  deeds  at  an  Indian 
brave  might  do. 

It  seems,  too,  that  "  Lochlann,"  now  Scandinavia,  was  onoe 
within  easy  sail  of  England  and  Ireland  ;  and  that  the  King  of 
Lschlann  knew  the  tenants  of  the  neighbouring  king.  From  tho 
biatory  of  tho  Isle  of  Man,  it  appears  that  there  really  was  a  king 
oalled  **  Crovan/'  wlio  is  also  mentioned  by  Warsaae  (pnge  287) 
aa  the  Norwegian  Qodred  Crovan  who  conqoersd  Man,  a.d.,  1077. 
Aod  in  this,  the  stories  are  probably  true  recollections  of  man- 
ners and  events,  so  far  as  they  go.  When  it  comes  to  giants,  the 
•tory  is  just  as  likely  to  be  true  in  the  same  sense.  There  pro- 
bably WAS  a  race  of  big  man-eating  savages  somewhere  on  the 
road  from  east  to  west,  if  not  all  along  the  route  ;  for  all  popular 
tales  agree  in  representing  giants  and  wild  men  as  living  in 
caves,  hoarding  wealth,  eating  men,  and  enslaving  women. 

In  these  stories  the  caves  are  described  from  nature.  Whm 
Gonal  walks  along  the  top  of  the  high  shore,  "  rough  with  caves 
and  geos,*'  and  falls  into  a  cave  which  baa  an  opening  bHow,  he 
doea  that  which  is  not  only  possible  but  probable.  I  know  many 
oaves  on  the  west  coast,  where  a  giant  might  have  walked  in  with 
his  goats  from  a  level  sandy  beach,  near  a  deep  sea,  and  some 
whore  a  man  might  fall  into  the  farther  end  through  a  hole  in  a 


1 56  WBT  HIOnLAirD  TALK 

level  green  iward,  end  land  lalely;  many  are  M  of  all  thai  bt- 
longe  to  a  ehecp-ibkl,  or  a  ahelter  need  by  goala  and  caiile,  and 
by  the  men  who  take  oare  of  them. 

I  know  one  where  a  whole  whiiky  diitilleiy  eziatad  not  wmj 
long  ago ;  I  fint  landed  in  it  from  a  boat  to  piok  np  a  wild 
pigeon ;  I  afterwarda  eoramUed  into  it  from  the  ahore ;  and  I 
have  looked  down  into  it  from  imooth  green  tnrl^  through  a  hole 
in  the  roof,  into  which  there  flowed  a  little  atream  of  water.  An 
active  man  might  drop  into  the  lar  end  on  a  heap  of  fidlen  earth. 

And  here  again  cornea  the  notion,  that  the  eo-called  gianta 
had  aworda  eo  bright,  that  they  ehone  in  the  dark  like  torohaiy 
and  that  they  owned  richea  hid  nndergronnd  in  hdea. 

Peihapi  we  may  belieTO  the  whole  aa  Tory  nearly  true.  It 
may  be  that  there  really  were  inch  people,  and  that  they  were 
minen  and  ehepherda ;  when  thoee  who  now  tell  itoriea  aboot 
them,  were  wandering  hnntamen  armed  with  itone  weapona. 

The  third  Tendon  ii  remarkable  aa  an  inatanoe  of  the  way  in 
whioh  poemi  of  greater  merit  need  to  be  commonly,  and  atiU  an 
occaaionally  recited.  "  Cucbullin  "  waa  partly  told,  partly  redtad, 
by  an  old  man  near  Locbawe,  within  the  memoiy  of  a  clergyman 
who  told  me  the  fact.  I  heard  Patrick  Smith,  in  Sooth  Uiat,  and 
other  men,  lo  recite  etoriee  in  alternate  prose  and  Tene,  in  1869; 
and  it  appears  that  the  £dda  was  so  composed.  Poema  of  tha 
same  natare  as  **  tha  poems  of  Ossian,"  if  not  the  poems  them- 
selves,  were  so  recited  by  an  old  man  in  Bowmore  more  than 
sixty  years  ago,  when  my  friend  Mr.  John  Crawford,  late  GoTemor 
of  Singapore,  and  a  well-known  lingoist,  was  a  school  boy,  who 
spoke  little  but  Qaelic ;  and  when  it  was  as  rare  to  find  a  man 
amongst  the  peasantiy  in  Islay  who  could  speak  English,  as  it  ia 
now  remarkable  to  find  one  who  cannot. 


VIIL 
KUBCHAG  A  'S  MIONACHAG. 

An  DwTOck,  JsBM  Win^  Hccter  IbcLeu,  Mi^, 


lyrOORACHUG    and   MeenMhiig  went  to  gallwr 

«o«ld  eat     lloanchiig  went  to  eeek  a  rod  to  lay  on 
MmtmrhmQ,  and  •h^^eating  hia  ahaie  of  firaii 

''Wliat'a  thj  news  UMÌaj,  oh  Yooiacbair   aaid 
llierod.    ''Tia  m j  own  newa^  that  I  am  aeeking  arod^^.' 
tohjcftk  Meenacha^  and  ahe  eating  mj  ahaie  of  irnii'* 

~  ThoQ  wilt  not  get  me  until  thou  getteat  an  axe  that 
win  le^  meL"  He  reached  the  axe.  ~  What'a  thj 
newa  to-daj,  oh  Yoonchair  ''Tia  mj  own  newa 
that  I  am  aeeking  an  axe  to  reap  rod — rod  to  Uj  on 
Meenachug — and  ahe  eating  mj  ahare  of  firaii" 

^'ThoQ  wilt  not  get  me  until  thou  getteat  a  atone  to 
amooth  me."  He  reached  a  atones  ''What'a  thy 
newa  to-daj,  oh  Voorachai  f '  aaid  the  atone.  ''*Tia  my 
own  newa  that  I  am  aeeking  atone  to  amooth  axe— axe 
to  leap  lod — rod  to  lay  on  Meenachaig — and  ahe  eating 
my  ahare  of  fruit  ** 

''Thoa  wilt  not  get  me,"  aaid  the  atone,  '*  tUl  thoa 
getteat  water  will  wet  me."  He  reached  the  water. 
*' What's  thy  newa  UMlay,  oh  Voorachai!"  aaid  the 
water.  "  *Tìb  my  own  newa  that  I  am  aeeking— water 
to  atone— atone  to  amooth  axe— axe  to  re^>  rod — ^rod 


I  58  WEST  HIOULAND  TALKS. 

to  lay  on  Moonachoig — ^ond  she  eating  my  share  of 
fruit" 

*' Thou  wilt  not  get  me,"  said  the  water,  ''till  thoa 
gettest  a  deor  to  swim  me."  He  reached  the  deer. 
"  Wliat  's  thy  news  to-day,  oh  Voorachai  f '  said  the 
deer.  '*  *Tis  my  own  news,  that  I  am  seeking-— deer 
to  swim  water — water  to  stone — stone  to  smooth  axe 
— axe  to  reap  rod — rod  to  lay  on  Meenachaig — and  she 
eating  my  share  of  fruit" 

"Tliou  wilt  not  get  me,"  said  the  deer,  "until 
thou  gettest  a  dog  U>  vun  m&"  He  reached  the  dog. 
**  What 's  thy  news  to-day,  oh  Vooracliai  1"  said  the 
dog.  "'Tis  my  own  news  that  I  am  seeking— ^og  to 
run  deer — deer  to  swim  water — water  to  stone — stone 
to  smooth  axe — axe  to  reap  rod — rod  to  lay  on  Meen- 
achaig— and  she  eating  my  share  of  fruit" 

"  II10U  wilt  not  get  mo,"  said  the  dog,  "till  thoa 
gettest  butter  to  bo  rubbed  to  my  feet"  He  reached 
the  l)utter.  "  AVTiat's  tliy  news  to-day,  oh  Voorachai  t" 
said  the  butter.  "  'T  is  my  own  news,  that  I  am  seek- 
ing— butter  to  feet  of  dog— dog  to  run  deer— deer  to 
swim  wator —  water  to  stone — stone  to  smooth  axe — 
axe  to  reap  rod — ro<l  to  lay  on  Meenachaig — and  she 
eating  my  share  of  fruit" 

"  Thou  wilt  not  get  me,"  said  the  butter,  "  till  thoa 
gettest  a  mouso  will  scrape  me."  He  reached  the 
mouse.  "  Wliat  's  thy  news  to-day,  oh  Voorachai  f 
said  the  mouse.  "  *T  is  my  own  news,  that  I  am  seek- 
ing— mouse  to  scrape  butter — butter  to  feet  of  dog — 
dog  to  run  doer — doer  to  swim  wator — ^water  to  stone 
— stone  to  smooth  axe — axe  to  reap  rod — roil  to  lay  on 
Meenachaig — and  sho  eating  my  share  of  fruit" 

"  Thou  wilt  not  got  mo,"  said  tlio  mouso,  "  till  thou 
gettest  a  cat  to  hunt  mo."  Ho  reached  the  cat 
"  What 's  thy  news  to-day,  oh  Voorachai  V*  said  the 


MUBCHAO  A  'B  MIONACHAO.  I  59 

cat  ''*TÌB  my  own  news,  that  I  am  seeking^— «at  to 
hunt  mouse — ^mouse  to  scrape  butter — ^butter  to  feet 
of  dog— dog  to  run  deer— deer  to  swim  water — water 
to  stone — stone  to  smooth  axe — axe  to  reap  rod — rod 
to  lay  on  Meenachaig — and  she  eating  my  share  of 
fruit" 

"  Thou  wilt  not  get  me,"  said  the  cat^  "  until  thou 
gettest  milk  for  me."  He  reached  the  cow.  **  What  'a 
thy  news  to-day,  oh  I  Voorachai  t  *'  said  the  cow. 
'^  T  is  my  own  news,  that  I  am  seeking — milk  for 
the  cat— cat  to  hunt  mouse — ^mouse  to  scrape  butter — 
butter  to  feet  of  dog— dog  to  run  deer— deer  to  swim 
water — water  to  stone — stone  to  smooth  axe— axe  to 
reap  rod — ^rod  to  lay  on  Meenachaig — and  she  eating 
my  shore  of  fruit" 

"  Thou  wilt  not  get  milk  from  me  till  thou  gettest 
a  whisp  from  the  barn  gillie."  He  reached  the  bam 
gillie.  "What's  thy  news  today,  oh  Voorachai T 
said  the  bom  gillie.  "'Tis  my  own  news,  that  I  am 
•eeking — a  whisp  for  the  oow — a  cow  will  shed  milk 
for  the  cat— cat  to  hunt  mouse — mouse  to  scrape  butter 
— ^butter  to  feet  of  dog— dog  to  run  deer— deer  to  swim 
water — water  to  stone — stone  to  smooth  axe — axe  to 
reap  rod — rod  to  lay  on  Meenachaig — and  she  eating 
my  share  of  fruit*' 

"Thou  wilt  not  get  a  whisp  from  me,"  said  the 
bam  gillie,  "  till  thou  gettest  a  bonnach  for  me  from  the 
kneading  wife."  He  reached  the  kneading  wife. 
"What's  thy  news  to-day,  oh  VooracliaiT  said  the 
kneading  wif&  "  'Tis  my  own  news,  that  I  am  seek- 
ing— bonnach  to  the  bam  gillie — whisp  to  the  cow 
from  the  bam  gillie — milk  from  the  cow  to  the  cat — 
cat  will  hunt  mouse — mouse  will  scrape  butter — butter 
to  feet  of  dog — dog  to  ran  deer — deer  to  swim  water 
—water  to  8ton»— stone  to  smootli  axe— axe  to  re^> 


l6o  WB8T  HIGHLAND  TAUB. 

rod — rod  to  lay  on  Meenacliaig— and  she  eating  my 
share  of  fruit" 

'^Thoa  wilt  not  get  bonnach  from  me  till  thoa 
bringest  in  water  will  knead  it" 

"How  wUl  I  bring  in  the  water  f     <f  Th«r«  is 
no  vessel  but  that  sowen's  sieye." 

Moorachug  took  with  him  the  sowen's  sieve.  He 
reached  tlio  water,  and  every  drop  he  would  put  in  the 
sowen's  sieve  it  would  go  through.  A  hoodie  cams 
over  his  head,  and  she  cried, ''  Gawr-rag,  gawr-rag,  litUe 
\/  silly,  litUe  silly."  <'Thou  art  rights  oh  hoodie,"  said 
Moorachug.  "  Crèah  rooah  s'  còinneach,  crèah  rooah 
s*  còinneaclì,"  said  the  hoodie. 

Moorachug  set  crèah  rooah  s'  còinneach  brown  day 
and  moss  to  it)  and  he  brought  in  the  water  to  this 
kneading  wife — and  he  got  bonnach  from  the  kneading 
wife  to  bam  gillie — ^whisp  from  the  bam  gillie  to  the 
cow — ^milk  from  the  cow  to  the  cat — cat  to  hunt  mouse 
— mouse  to  scrape  butter — butter  to  feet  of  dog— dog 
to  run  deer — deer  to  swim  water — ^water  to  stone — 
stone  to  smooth  axe — axe  to  reap  rod — ^rod  to  lay  on 
Meenacliaig — and  she  eating  his  shore  of  fruit  And 
-   t'    when  Moorachug  returned  Meenachag  had  just  mmsT. 

Thii  is  the  boat  known  of  all  (Uaelia  talei.  It  ii  the  infant 
ladder  to  learning  a  chain  of  cause  and  effect,  and  fully  at  senaible 
as  any  of  its  kind.  It  used  to  bo  commonly  taught  to  ohildren 
of  ùvt  or  six  years  of  age,  and  repeated  by  school  boys,  and  it  ii 
still  remembered  by  grown-up  people  in  all  parts  of  the  High- 
lands. There  are  few  Tariations.  In  one  Tersion  the  crow  waa 
a  little  bird ;  in  another  a  gull  was  introduced,  which  adTÌied  the 
use  of  sand  to  stuff  the  riddle. 

The  tale  has  sixteen  steps,  four  of  which  contain  double 

^      ideas.    The  English  house  that  Jack  built  has  eleTon.     Tho 

Scotch  old  woman  with  the  silf  er  penny  has  twelre.    The  Norsk 

cock  and  hen  a-nutting  twelve,  ten  of  which  are  double.    The 

German  story  in  Qrimm  has  five  or  six,  all  single  ideas.    All  these 


laUìii  Hm  Mtera  m  BÌOTMUa  Mr  mm  Kir<^ 


kit  Bote.  !■  aaoUwr  towhi  akt  M^yis  **  dnm  onumi  iimiiiw 
■UAM  B»~Pat  tMgk  red  efej  to  it;**  Mid  tk«  g«U  wM^  ^Cvm 
rou.  KM  KM— P«t nft  mod  to  it;**  whidi  it  nihw  fh%  ipotok  of 
•oma  other  bird.  Tkere  mn  orroral  rare  wordt  in  tkit ;  ht 
txampley  **  Qodli«r»**  a  dog. 


MURCHADH  A*8  MIONAOUAQ. 

I>R  *niolbb  Mnrehadh  a*i  Mlonaehag  a  bhoalii  luffh,  ^  mar  a 
bbaaineadh  Morchadh  dh*  lihaadh  Mionachsfr.  l>h  ^fholbh  Murohadh 
a  dh*  iarraidh  flat  a  a  ghabhail  air  MIonacbaig  *t  I  *|{  llbtadh  a  ebuld 
avgh^'Do  do  naigbeachd  an  dlugh  a  Mhurebaldh  ?  **  im*  an 
t^lat  «"8a  mo  nalghaacbd  Mn  go  *bb«ll  mi  'g  Iarraidh  Slal  a 
gkabhall  air  Ulonachag  *§  i  *g  ith«adh  mo  ohuld  •ugh.'*  **  Oha  *n 
fbaigfa  thtt  mlfo  gut  am  faigh,**  "  tira  taagb  a  bhualnaaa  ml."  Ahlnlic 
6  Hk  toagh.  «*  Da  do  oaiglieachd  an  diagh  a  MharehaIdH  7**  fla  mo 
■aigbeachd  Mn  go  *bheil  mi  *g  Iarraidh  Tnagh  a  bhtialnaaa  alal 
Sliu  a  ghabhall  air  MIonachalg  *a  I  'g  Ithaadh  mo  ehald  Mgh-  «  Cha 
Vifhaigh  thn  mba  gaa  am  fbalgh  tha  claeb  a  Aobhaa  ml.**  "  RhhilK  a 
'ddaeh.  IM  do  nalghaaehd  an  dhigh  a  Mharehaidh  T  wn*  a'  ahlath. 
•"Sa  mo  Baigbaachd  tHu  gn  'bholl  mi  *g  Iarraidh  CUMh  a  IWhhadh 
tMgh-.Taagh  a  bhaain  aiai^Mat  a  ghabhall  air  Mlofiaehalg  *a  I  % 
khaadh  mo  chaid  Mgh.**  "  Cha  a  nudgh  tha  mlaV  ura*  a' ehlaah, "  got 
amCrigh  thn  nbga  a  fhlhKhaa  ml.**  RUnlg  a  'n  t-^dagOi*''  Ho  do 
■aighiirhil  an  di«Kh  a  Mhardmldh?'*  vra*  an  t-olfigii.  '9  a  mo 
■mghaaclM  fna  gn  MmiI  mi  g  mfraidh  ulaga  ma  chloMh  Oloch  a 
labhadh  UMgh— Tnagh  a  bhaohi  aiol--ffia4a  ghabhall  ak  Mtoaofh- 
d^  'a  i  'g  ithenih  mo  rhnid  angh.  Cha  *n  fhaigh  fho  ml*',  m^  an 
t-«i^pi,  gm  am  ffaach  thn  iadh  a  almitmhaa  ml.**  Hèlnfg  a  *m  Ìodli. 
"Mdo  naifVaHbdandfnchaMhnrchoMhr  wniramfh4k.    "'Aa 

^BA  -    »    * ^-  *   tXLm.   MM  ^JL^U  ^J  'm  « « .**     ITIa^V   a    -■      «■  -   »      -  «---< 

wma  mn  ^nvM^ok.  v^at^n  a  fvtaain^n  WMfl^n.  t  oaffn  a  rmvow  wMc 
BiBB  n  gnonnnM  a^r  ^vH'waornHV^  w  i  |[f  Kawnivn  ^wy  'atiM'T  ^♦uw.  '  -m 
ji  fliaigh  An  watf,  ori^  am  wotfte,  '^  Itno  am  mlfh  fk)!!  g/MfkO'T  a  mM^'* 
I  a  n  i^annav  •     1^9  •vo  no^vpnancPO  on  op^bo  a  man^^^' 


1 61  WBT  HIOHLAND  TlLBL 

aidb?**  mt'angadliAr.    « 'S  e  mo  lulghMchd  Mfai  gn  ^bbtD  ad  ^T 
iamOdh  Gadluur  a  ruith  fladh.    FUdh  ft  tlinkmli  •iig'.    Vht^  Mft 
chloich.  GUch  a  noUiadh  tuacb.    Taagli  a  bhoaia  lUt.     SIftt  a 
ghabhail  air  Mionacbaig  *•  i  *g  iibaadb  mo  cbuid  •ngb."    *Cbft  ^i 
fbaigb  tbtt  mia,"  urt*  an  gadbar, "  gus  am  (kigb  tba  im  a  rabar  rim* 
cbaaan."  Rkinig  0  *n  t-im.  <*I>edo  naigbeacbd  andingbftMhorsli. 
aklb?'*urt*ant.im«    «< 'Se  mo  naigbeacbd  fAn  gu  iibaU  mi 'g  iair 
raidb  Im  cbaaa  gadbair.     Gadbar  a  ruitb  Aadb.    Fladb  a  ibnbmli 
uiag*.    Ulage  ma  cblolcb.   Clacb  a  Bobbadb  tnagb.   Tnagb  ft  bhaala 
■lat    Slat  a  gbabbail  air  Uiooacbaig  *t  i  'g  Itbcadb  mo  cbald  aagh.** 
**  Cba  *n  fbaigh  tba  mil',**  un*  an  t-lm,  *<  gua  am  Ukf^  tbo  loch  a 
•grtobaa  mi."    **  RÌOnÌg  t  *n  lucb.    «  De  do  naigbaacbd  aa  diagli  a 
Morobaidb  V  urt'  an  lucb.  "  So  mo  naigbeacbd  fAn  gu  bbcil  mi  *g  lar^ 
raidb.    Lucb  a  agi^obadb  inu    Im  cbata  gadbair.    Gadbar  a  mitfa 
fladb.    Fiadb  a  ibnkmb  uiag*.    Uiage  ma  doicb.    Clacb  a  IkMiadh 
tnagb.    Tuagh  a  bbnain  slat.    Slat  a  gbabbail  air  Miooaobaig  *b  I 'g 
itboadb  mo  cbuid  lugb."  **  Cba  *n  fbaigb  tbu  mis*,**  art*  aa  laeb, "  gat 
am  fkigb  tbu  cat  a  tbealgat  mi.**    RkUiig  t  *n  cat    **  Do  do  nalgli. 
tacbd  an  dingb  a  Mburcbaidb?**  art*  an  cat.  **  *Se  mo  nalgbaaebd  ffia 
gu  'bbeil  mi  'g  iarraidb  Cat  a  tbealg  lucb.    Lncb  a  tgiWbadb  lai. 
Im  cbata  gadbair.    Gadbar  a  ruitb  fladb.    Fiadb  a  thnbmb  ai^'. 
Uitgt  ma  cbloicb.    Clacb  a  liobbadh  tnagb.    Tuagh  a  bbnain  tlat. 
Slat  a  ghabhail  air  llionacbaig  *8  i  *g  itbeaUb  mo  cbuid  tugb.**  "Cba 
*n  fbaigh  thu  mis*,**  urt'  an  cat,  ^  gut  am  faigh  thu  bainno  dbomb." 
Ràinig  e  'Dbò.    *<  De  do  naigbotcbd  an  diugh  a  Mburcbaidb?  **  nrt' 
a'  bbò.    **  *S«  mo  naigbeachd  (6in  gu'  bbeil  mi  'g  iarraidb  Bainno  do 
'n  chat    Cat  a  tbealg  lucb.    Lucb  a  tgi^obadb  im.     Im  cbaaa 
gadbar.    Gadbar  a  ruitli  fiadb.    Fiadb  a  tlinàmh  nitg'."    Uitgo  ma 
cbloiolu     Clacb  a  nobliadh  tuagh.    Tuagh  a  bhuain  tlat.    Slat  a 
gbabbail  air  Mionacbaig  't  i  'g  itboadb  mo  cbuid  tugb.    *  Cba  "a 
fbaigh  tbu  bainne  uamta,  gut  am  fiigh  thu  top  o  *n  ghillo  tbabbailL 
Ràinig  e  *n  gille  tabbaill.    **  Dtf  do  naigbeachd  an  diugh  a  Mbnrch- 
aidb  ?"  urt'  an  gille  tabbaill.  **  'Se  mo  naigbeacbd  fnHn  gu  'bheU  mi  *g 
iarraidb.  Sop  a  gbeobb  bo.  Bo  bbligheadb  bainne  do  'n  chat   Cat  a 
abealg  Inch.    Lncb  a  tgriobadh  im.    Im  cbata  gadbar.    Gadbar  a 
ruith  fladb.    Fiadb  a  thnhub  uitg*.    Uiage  ma  cbloicb.    Clacb  a 
nobbadh  tuagh.  Tuagh  a  bhuain  tlat.    Slat  a  ghabhail  air  Mionacb- 
aig 'a  i  'g  itbeadh  mo  cbuid  tugh.    **  Cba  'n  fliaigb  thu  top  uamta,** 
urt'  an  gille  tabbaill,  **  gut  am  fkigh  tbu  Bonnach  dliomh  o  *n  Bboan 
fbuinne."    Ràinig  e  'bbean  fhuinne.    *<  De  do  naigbeachd  an  dincb 
a  Mbnrchaidh?"  urt*  a'  bhean  fhuinne.    **  'Se  mt>  naigbeacbd  f^in  gu 
'bbeil  mi'  g  iarraidb  Bonnach  do  'n  ghille  thabliaill.    Sop  do  'n  Bho 


MUBOHADH  a's  MIONAOHAO. 


163 


0  *B  Ghille  thabhrnill.  Bminn'  0  *b  B&o  do  *ii  chit  Cat  a  iliMlf;!! 
Ivcfa.  Lach  a  igi^obas  fan.  Im  obasa  gadhair.  Oadhar  a  raith 
fladh.  Fiadh  a  ibDainh  alag*.  Uiaga  ma  chloich.  dach  a  nobbadh 
taagh.    Tnagh  a  bhnain  ilat    Slat  a  ghabhaO  air  Mionacbaif  '■ 

1  *g  itbeadb  mo  cbnid  aogb.  "Cba  'n  fbalgh  Urn  bonnaefa  oamia 
■arand'thoirUia8tighaiig'adb*fhainiMaa«."  Dtf  mar  a*  bhdr 
■I  atigh  an  i-Uliga?**  "Cba  *n  *eil  aoitboacb  ann  aoh  an  Cria- 
thar  Cabbrach  tin.**  Tbng  Morebadb  leii  an  Criatbar  Cabbrach,  *i 
rbinig  •  n  i-ni«ge,  liab-afla  door  a  obolrtadb  •  *■  a*  Gbriatbar  Cbabb- 
raehracbadb  •  roimbo.  Tbbinig  Feannag  aa  a  ebionn  *a  gUaoidb  i 
'Gbrrag^  gbrrag."  **Tba  tbn  eaart  fbaannag,**  nfia  Ifofebadb. 
**Gkèadb  magb  *8  oMnneacb,  crèadb  magb  *8  cbinnoacb."  Cbvir 
Mnrehadb  crèadb  magb  *■  ebbinoaeb  ria,  *a  Uing  •  *aUgb  an  UUiagt, 
*ifb«air  •  Bonnacb  o *n  Bbean  fninno  do *n  QbUlo  ibabbailL  flop  o 
*■  ObiUo  ababbain  do  *n  Bbò.  Bainn*  0  *n  Bbò  do  *n  cbat  Cat  a 
■btalg  Inch.  Loeb  a  ngr^obadb  fan.  Im  cbaaa  gadbafr.  Oadhar 
a  rahb  fladb.  Fladb  a  sbnbmb  niag*.  Ufaga  ma  ebloieb*  Oaob  a 
Aobhadb  tnagh.  Tnagh  a  bboain  slat  Slat  a  ghabbafl  air  Mioaa- 
chaig'a  i  *g  Ithaadb  a  cbnid  aogb.  *8nnrntbin  Mnfchadb  bba 
Mianachag  an  dfigh  Soaimbadm  1 1 


^  IX. 
THE  BROWN  BEAR  OF  THE  GREEN  GLEN. 

From  John  MacDonald,  TraTelling  Tinker. 

nPHERE  was  a  king  in  Erin  once,  who  Lad  a  leaah 
-^-  of  sons.  Jolm>wa8  tK(rnameof,iha.^imx)ge8t  onei 
and  it  was  said  that  .ho  was  not  wise  enough ;  and 
this  good  worldly 'king  lost  the  sight  of  his  eyes^  and 
the  strength  of  his  feet  The  two  eldest  brothers  said 
that  they  would  go  seek  three  bottles  of  the  water  of 
the  green  Isle  that  was  about  the  heaps  of  the  deep.* 
And  so  it  was  that  these  two  brothers  wont  away.  Now 
the  fool  said  that  ho  would  not  believe  but  that  he 
himself  would  go  also.  And  the  first  big  town  he 
reached  in  his  futhorcs  kingdom,  there  he  sees  Ids  two 
brothers  there,  the  blackguards  I  '^  Oh !  my  boys,*'  says 
the  young  one,  "  is  it  thus  you  are  Ì "  "  With  swift- 
ness of  foot,"  said  they,  '^  tako  thyself  home,  or  we 
will  have  thy  life."  "  Don't  bo  afmid,  lads.  It  is  no- 
thing to  me  to  stay  with  you."  Now  John  went  away 
on  his  journey  till  he  came  to  a  great  desert  of  a  wood. 
*'  Hoo,  boo  ! "  says  John  to  himself,  *'  It  is  not  canny 
for  me  to  walk  this  wood  alone."  Tlie  night  was  com- 
ing now,  and  growing  pretty  dark.  Jolm  ties  the 
cripple  jvhito  horse  that  was  under  him  to  the  root  of 
a  tree,  and  he  went  up  in  the  top  himself.  He  was 
but  a  very  short  time  in  the  top,  when  he  saw  a  bear 

*  "  Eilean  iiaioe  a  bha  'n  iomal  terra  domhain. 


TBM  BBOWV  BlAB  Or  YBM  GBOir  GUV.  165 

coming  with  a  fieij  diider  in  liis  moath.  **Come 
down,  son  of  the  king  of  Erin,**  says  be.  **  Indeed,  I 
won't  oome.  I  am  thinking  I  am  safer  where  I  am.** 
^  Bat  if  thoa  wilt  not  come  down,  I  will  go  up,"  said 
the  bear.  ^  Art  thou,  too,  taking  me  forafoolt**  says 
Joluu  **  A  shaggy,  shambling  creatare  like  thee, 
climbing  a  tree  I"  "Bat  if  thou  wilt  not  come  down 
I  will  go  np,**  says  the  bear,  as  he  fell  oat  of  hand  to 
climbing  the  tree.  "  Lord  I  thoa  csnst  do  that  same  T 
said  John ;  **  keep  back  &om  the  root  of  the  tree,  then, 
and  I  will  go  down  to  talk  to  thee.**  And  when  the 
son  of  Erin's  king  drew  down,  they  came  to  chatting. 
The  bear  asked  him  if  he  was  hangry.  "  Wed  I  by  yoar 
lesTC,**  said  John,  '^lamalitUeatthisrerysametime." 
The  bear  took  that  wonderfal  watchfal  torn  and  he 
catches  a  roeback.  "  Now,  son  of  Erin's  king,**  says 
the  bear,  "  whether  woaldst  thoa  like  thy  share  of  the 
back  boiled  or  rawt**  "The  sort  of  meat  I  ased  to 
get  woald  be  kind  of  plotted  boiled,**  says  John ;  and 
thas  it  fell  oat  John  got  his  share  roasted.  "Now," 
said  the  bear,  "lie  down  between  my  paws,  and  thoa 
hast  no  caose  to  fear  cold  or  hanger  till  morning.** 
Early  in  the  morning  the  Maon  (bear)  asked,  "Art 
thoa  ssleep,  son  of  Erin's  kingt**  "I  am  not  yery 
heavily,"  said  he.  "  It  is  time  for  thee  to  be  on  thy 
soles  tiien.  Thy  joamey  is  long — two  handred 
miles ;  bat  art  thoa  a  good  horseman,  John  t  **  "  There 
are  worse  than  me  at  times,"  said  hei  "  Thou  hadst 
best  get  on  top  of  me,  then."  He  did  this,  and  at  the 
first  leap  John  was  to  earth. 

"FoUlfoUr  says  John.  "What  1  thoa  art  not  bad 
at  the  trade  Ìhysel£  Thoa  hadst  best  oome  back  till 
we  try  thee  again.**  And  with  nails  and  teeth  he 
fsstened  on  the  Mathon,  till  they  reached  the  end  of 
the  two  handred  miles  and  a  giant's  hoòse^     "  Now, 


1 66  wnr  hiohlakd  taub. 

John,**  said  the  Mathon,  "  thou  shalt  go  to  past  the 
night  in  this  giant's  house ; "  thou  wilt  find  him 
pretty  grumpy,  hut  say  thou  that  it  was  the  brown 
bear  of  Uie  green  glen  that  set  thee  here  for  a  nigbt^s 
share,  and  don't  thou  be  afraid  that  thou  wilt  not  gei 
share  and  comfort*'  And  he  left  the  bear  to  go  to  the 
giant's  house.  "Son  of  Ireland's  King^**  says  the 
giant,  "  thy  coming  was  in  the  prophecy ;  but  if  I  did 
not  get  thy  father,  I  have  got  his  son.  I  don't  know 
whether  I  will  put  thee  in  the  earth  with  my  feet|  or 
in  the  sky  with  my  breath."  ''  Thou  wilt  do  neither 
of  either,"  said  John,  "  for  it  is  the  brown  bear  of  the 
green  glen  Uiat  set  me  here."  Come  in,  son  of  Erin's 
king,"  said  he,  "  and  thou  shalt  be  well  taken  to  this 
night"  And  as  ho  said,  it  was  true.  John  got  meat 
and  drink  witliout  stint  But  to  make  a  long  tale 
short,  tlio  bear  took  Jolin  day  after  day  to  the  third 
giant  "  Now,"  says  the  bear,  "  I  have  not  much  ao- 
quaintance  witli  this  giant,  but  thou  wilt  not  be  long  in 
his  house  when  thou  must  wrestle  with  him.  And  if  he 
is  too  hard  on  thy  back,  say  thou,  '  If  I  had  the  brown 
bear  of  the  green  glon  here,  tliat  was  thy  master.'  " 
As  soon  as  John  went  in — ^Ai  1  ai  1 1  or  ee  I  ee  1 !"  says 
the  giant,  "  If  I  did  not  get  thy  father,  I  have  got  his 
son ;"  and  to  grips  they  go.  Thoy  would  make  the 
boggy  bog  of  tlie  rocky  rock.  In  the  hardest  place 
thoy  would  sink  to  the  knee ;  in  the  softest,  up  to  the 
thighs ;  and  they  would  bring  wells  of  spring  water 
from  the  face  of  every  rock.  Tlie  giant  gave  Jolin  a 
sore  wrench  or  two.  "  Foil  I  foil !  I "  says  he.  "  If  I 
had  here  the  brown  bear  of  the  groon  glen,  thy  leap 
would  not  be  so  hearty."  And  no  sooner  spoke  ho  the 
word  than  the  worthy  bear  was  at  his  side.  "  Yes  1  yes  I " 
says  the  giant,  "son  of  Erin's  king,  now  I  know 
thy  matter  better  than  thou  dost  thysell"     So  it  was 


THE  BROWN  BBAB  Or  YBM  QìBMMÀ  OLBT.  167 

that  the  giant  ordered  his  shepherd  to  hring  home  the 
best  wether  he  had  in  the  hiU,  and  to  throw  his  car^ 
cass  before  the  great  door.  ''Now,  John,**  sayi  the  giant^ 
''  an  eagle  will  come  and  she  will  settle  on  the  carcass  of 
this  wether,  and  there  is  a  wart  on  the  ear  of  this  eagle 
which  thou  most  cat  off  her  with  this  sword^  bat  a  drop 
of  blood  thoa  must  not  draw."  The  eagle  came,  bat  she 
was  not  long  eating  when  John  drew  close  to  her,  and 
with  one  stroke  he  cat  the  wart  off  her  without  draw- 
ing one  drop  of  blood.  {'*  Och  I  is  not  thai  a  fearfid 
lis  f  **)  "  Now,**  said  the  eagle,  "  come  on  the  root  of 
my  two  wings,  for  I  know  thy  matter  better  than 
thoa  dost  thysel£*'  He  did  this ;  and  they  were  now 
on  sea,  and  now  on  land,  and  now  on  the  wing,  till 
they  reached  the  Green  Isleu  **  Now,  John,**  says  she, 
**  be  quick,  and  fill  thy  three  bottles  ;  remember  that 
the  black  dogs  are  away  just  now.**  ("  Whai  dog$t  ** 
"  Black  dog$  ;  dod  thou  not  know  (hat  they  always  had 
black  dogs  chasing  the  Orcgorach/**)  When  he 
filled  the  botUes  with  the  water  out  of  the  well,  he 
sees  a  litUe  house  beside  him.  John  said  to  himself 
that  he  would  go  in,  and  that  he  would  see  what  was 
in  it  And  the  first  chamber  he  opened,  he  saw  a  full 
bottleu  C"  And  what  was  in  Uf*  '*  What  should  be  in 
it  but  whisky.**)  He  filled  a  glass  out  of  it,  and  he 
drank  it ;  and  when  he  was  going,  he  gare  a  glance, 
and  the  bottle  was  as  full  as  it  was  before.  **  I  will 
hsTo  this  bottle  along  with  the  bottles  of  water,** 
says  heu 

Then  he  went  into  another  chamber,  and  he  saw  a 
loaf ;  he  took  a  slice  out  of  it,  but  the  loaf  was  as 
whole  as  it  was  before.  "Te  godsl  I  won*t  leave 
thee,**  says  John.  He  went  on  thus  till  he  came  to 
another  chamber.  He  saw  a  great  cheese ;  he  took  a 
alioe  off  the  cheese,  but  it  was  as  whole  as  ever.     ^  I 


l68  WKT  HIGHLAND  CALM. 

will  have  this  along  with  the  rest^**  tayi  ha  Then  he 
went  to  another  chamber^  and  he  saw  laid  there  the 
very  prettiest  little  jewel  of  a  woman  he  erer  eaw. 
"  It  were  a  great  pity  not  to  kias  thj  lipo^  mj  lore^" 
says  John. 

8oon  after,  John  jumped  on  top  of  the  eagle,  and  ahe 
took  him  on  the  self  same  steps  till  they  reached  the 
house  of  the  big  giant^  and  ihey  were  paying  rent  to 
the  giant,  and  tliere  was  the  sight  of  tenants  and  giants 
and  meat  and  drink*  ''  Well  1  John/*  says  the  gian^ 
"  didst  thou  see  such  drink  as  this  in  thy  father^s  honae 
in  Erint"  "Pooh,"  says  John,  "Hoo!  my  heio; 
ihou  other  man,  I  have  a  drink  that  is  unlike  it** 
He  gave  the  giant  a  glass  out  of  the  botUe^  but  the 
bottle  was  as  full  as  it  was  before.  "  Well  1  *'  said  the 
giant^  **  I  will  give  thee  myself  two  hundred  notea^  a 
bridle  and  a  saddle  for  the  bottl&'*  "  It  is  a  bargain, 
then,"  says  John,  "  but  that  the  first  sweetheart  I  oyer 
hod  must  got  it  if  she  comes  the  way."  "  She  will  get 
that^"  says  the  giant ;  but^  to  make  the  long  story  short, 
he  left  each  loaf  and  cheese  with  the  two  other  giants, 
with  the  same  covenant  that  the  first  sweetheart  he 
ever  had  should  get  them  if  she  came  the  way. 

Now  John  reached  his  father*s  big  town  in  Erin, 
and  he  sees  liis  two  brothers  as  he  left  them — the 
'^  blackguardan  1"  "  You  had  best  come  with  me,  lads," 
says  he,  "  and  you  will  get  a  dress  of  cloth,  and  a  horse 
and  a  saddle  and  bridle  each."  And  so  they  did; 
but  when  they  were  near  to  their  father's  house,  the 
brothers  thought  that  they  hod  better  kill  him,  and  so 
it  was  that  they  sot  on  him.  And  when  they  tliought 
he  was  dead,  they  throw  him  behind  a  dike ;  and  they 
took  from  hhn  the  three  bottles  of  water,  and  they 
went  home.  John  was  not  too  long  here,  when  his 
father's  smith  came  the  way  with  a  cart  load  of  rusty 


THB  BROWN  BSAB  OF  TBI  OBBBT  OLDI.     169 

iron.  John  called  ont^  ''  Whoever  the  Christian  is  that 
is  theie,  oh  I  that  he  should  help  him.**  The  smith 
eaught  him,  and  he  threw  John  amongst  the  iron ; 
and  hecause  the  iron  was  so  rusty,  it  went  into  each 
wound  and  soro  that  John  had ;  and  so  it  was,  that 
John  became  rough  skinned  and  bald.  Uero  we  will 
leaye  John,  and  we  will  go  back  to  the  protty  litUe 
jewel  that  John  left  in  the  Green  Isleu  She  became 
pale  and  heavy ;  and  at  the  end  of  three  quarters,  she 
had  a  fine  lad  son.  ''Oh!  in  all  the  great  world,"  says 
she,  "how  did  I  find  this t**  "  FoU  1  foU  T  says  the  hen- 
wife,  "don't  let  that  set  thee  thinking.  Hero's  for 
thee  a  bird,  and  as  soon  as  he  sees  the  father  of  thy 
son,  he  will  hop  on  the  top  of  his  head.**  The 
Oreen  Isle  was  gathered  from  end  to  end,  and  the 
people  were  put  in  at  the  back  door  and  out  at  the 
front  door ;  but  the  bird  did  not  stir,  and  the  babe's 
father  was  not  found.  Now  here,  she  said  she  would 
go  through  the  world  altogether  till  she  should  find  the 
father  of  the  babe.  Then  she  came  to  the  house  of 
the  big  giant  and  sees  the  bottleu  "Ai  I  ai  1 1  **  said 
she,  "  who  gave  thee  this  bottle  t  **  Said  the  giant,  "It 
was  young  John,  son  of  Erin's  king,  that  left  it" 
"  Wdl,  then,  the  bottle  is  mine,**  said  she.  But  to 
make  the  long  story  shorty  she  came  to  the  house  of 
each  giant,  and  she  took  with  her  each  botUe,  and  each 
loaf^  and  each  cheese,  till  at  length  and  at  last  she  came 
to  the  house  of  the  king  of  Erin.  Then  the  fiTo-fiflhs 
of  Erin  were  gathered,  and  the  bridge  of  nobles  of  the 
people  ;  they  wero  put  in  at  the  back  door  and  out  at 
the  front  door,  but  the  bird  did  not  stir.  Then  she 
asked  if  there  was  one  other  or  any  one  else  at  all  in 
Erin,  that  had  not  been  here.  "  I  have  a  bald  rough- 
skinned  gillie  in  the  smithy,**  said  the  smith,  "  but,** — 
"  Bough  on  or  ofi^  send  him  here,**  says  aha   No  sooner 


1 70  WEST  HIGHLAND  TALB. 

did  the  bird  see  the  bead  of  tbe  bald  roogh-akiimed 
gillie,  than  he  took  a  flight  and  settles  on  the  bald  top 
of  the  rough-skinned  lad.  She  caught  him  and  Vissa/ 
him.     Thou  art  the  fatlier  of  my  babe.*' 

"  But^  John/'  says  the  great  king  of  Erin,  ''  It  ia 
thou  that  gottest  the  bottles  of  water  for  me."  **  In- 
deed, 't  was  I,'*  says  John.  **  Weel,  then,  what  art  thoa 
willing  to  do  to  thy  two  brothers  t "  "  The  very  thing 
they  wished  to  do  to  me,  do  for  them ;"  and  that 
same  was  done.  John  married  the  daughter  of  the 
king  of  the  Green  Isle,  and  they  made  a  great  rich 
wedding  that  lasted  seven  days  and  seven  yeais^ 
and  thou  couldst  but  hear  leeg,  Iceg,  and  beog,  beeg^ 
solid  sound  and  peg  drawing.  Gold  a-crushing  from 
the  soles  of  their  feet  to  the  tips  of  their  fingers,  the 
length  of  seven  years  and  seven  daya 


SGEUIACHD  AIR  MATn-GHAMHAINN  DONN  A 

GllLINN  UAINNE. 

HiiA  rìgh  air  Eirìnn  aon  ualr,  alg  an  robh  trÌUÌr  luhac,  *■  b*  ainm  don 
fhear  a  b'  òige  Iain,  *s  bha  e  air  a  radh  nach  robh  e  glio  na  leòir,  agni 
chain  an  r)gh  aaoghalta  bo  sealladh  a  shUilean,  'a  Ihgh  nan  cas. 
'riiubhairt  an  da  blirhthair  bu  shine  gun  rachadh  Ìadsan  air  tòir  tri 
botuil  uaige  do'n  eilenn  naine  a  bha  'u  ioniall  torra  domhain,  agnt  'at 
bh*  ann  gun  d*  fhalbh  an  da  blirkthair  so.  Thubhairt  an  t-amadan 
nach  creideadh  a  ftfin  nach  falbhadh  e  cuideachd,  agus  a  cheud  bbaile- 
mòr  do  *n  d'  thhing  e  ann  an  rioghachd  atliar,  faicear  a  dha  bhràtbair 
an  sin  *nam  blaigeartan  I  **  O  a  bhalacha ! "  are*  am  fear  òg,  **  an  ann 
mar  ko  a  tha  sibhse.*'  **  Air  luathos  do  chas,"  ars*  iadaan,  **  thoir  an 
tigh  ort  air  nao  bithidh  do  bhcatha  againn."  **  Na  bitheadh  aagal 
oirbh  romham  cha  *n  fhiach  leamsa  funachd  mailla  ribh.**  D*fhalbh 
Iain  an  so  air  a  ihurua,  gus  an  d'  thhinig  a  gu  flisach  mòr  do  choille. 
Hu  1  Huth  1  are*  Iain  ris  f^in,  '*  Cha  *neil  e  cueasda  dhòmhsa  a*  choilla 
so  a  choiseachd  learn  (hèin.*'    Bha  'n  oidhche  a*  tighinn  a  nis,  *a  i 


8CaUL40HD  Am  MATH-OHAMHATNK.  1 7  I 

ftt  g«  Buth  dorduL  Ceaogailetr  Iain  an  i-aaèh  iMcnch,  ban  a  bba 
ÌBÌdlM  ri  ban  eraolbba  *■  obaidh  •  f^  ioai  *na  bàrr.  Cha  robh  • 
•di  foirld  *na  bàrr  got  am  Dm  •  math-ghamhainn  a*  tigbinn  *■  dbh- 
litf  thdna  na  bhtol.    "  Thif  a  nnaa,  a  mbio  rtgh  Sirian,"  an*  aaan. 

*  On  dearbh,  cba  d*  tbig,  tba  ml  imaobiteachadb  gn*  bhall  ml  nb 
tènrnlnta  fkr  am  bbeU  mi."  **  Ach  mnr  d'  tliig  tbnsa  nnaa  thM  mlae 
•nai,**  ana  *m  math-ghamhainn.  "'M  bbeil  tboaa'gam  ghabhail  *nara 
aaadan  eoideaehd,**  tbnirt  Jain.  Cfentair  robagach,  Uobarta  eoltaeh 
fintea  a  ilraapadh  diraobb.  "  Adi  mur  d*  tbig  tbnsa  nnai^thAd  mist 
anaa,**  an*  am  math-gbambainn  '■  •  Hoirt  a  ghrad  Ikimh  air  stnapadh 
nacmoibhe.  «*8dUnltbnainfh^**thnirt  Iain.  «« Fan  air  f  ab  fo 
bknn  na  craoibbe  mata,  *t  tbAd  mi  Am  a  bhrnidbinn  rint**  Agna  dor  a 
thairinn  mac  r\gb  Elrinn  a  nnai^  thblnig  iad  gn  eracaireadid.  Dh' 
fbabridiV  mbatb-gbambainn  dbetb,  *an  robh  an  t-acraa  air?  "  Uill 
k  'r  eead,**  ars*  Iain,  **  tba  beagan  onn  dbath  'ta  dieart  am  to  fda.** 
Tbng  am  math-ghamhainn  an  igr^ob  nalladi,  aigbcarach  *nd,  *a 
bdrear  air  hoc  aarba.  **  A  nil,  a  mhic  i)gh  Eirinn,**  area  am  math- 
|^uunhainn,''Co  lifabrr  lent  do  dinid  do*n  bhoc  brnidi  na  amb.** 
**  An  lebna  bidb  a  b*  bbhairt  dhòmbta  fbaoUinn,  bhitbeadh  aebna 
ploCadh  brnidi  air,**  ars*  Iain.  Agna  'aaon  a  so  mar  tbachair. 
Fhoair  Iain  a  cbnid  fh^nrbisia.  "  A  nia,**  arsa  *m  matb-ghambainny 

*  Inidh  ùù§  eadar  mo  apogan-aai'a  dia*n  cagal  f oadid  no  aerais  dhnit  gn 
madainn."  Moch  *8a  mhadahin,dh*iboighneadid  am  math-ghamhainn, 
"Am  bheil  tbn  *d  diadal,  a  mbio  righ  Eirinn.**  «Cha  'n  'dl  ann- 
barrach  trom,**  thoirt  Man.  Tha*n  t-bm  dhnit  a  bhl  dr  do  bhninn 
mata,  tba  *n  t-attar  fiMÌa,  da  eband  nùla  t  adi  am  bhdl  tbn  *nad 
*mliarcaidia  math,  Iain?  "Tba  na  *t  mioaa  na  mi  air  amannan,** 
thniri  aian.  "*8  febrr  dhnit  tigbinn  dr  mo  mbninn  mata.**  Rinn  a 
ao^  agia  air  a  dieud  lenm,  bba  Uin  ri  talamh.  *«  Fbill  Fbill**  ara' 
Iain,  dè  'dia  *n  *dl  tbn  fbdn  dona  ahr  a  diaalrdi  *8  fabrr  dhnit 
tigbinn  dr  t-ala  gna  am  fandi  dnn  a  rithl«t  tbn ;  *■  laiongan  *a  iladan 
ghrdmidi  a  ris  a  mlia*ghan,  gna  an  d*  rkinig  iad  oaann  an  db  diand 
mila,  *t  Ugh  fambalr.  "  Mia  Idn,"  ana  'm  ma'ghan, "  Ih^  tbndinir 
aeadiad  na  h-ddbdia  ann  an  tigh  an  fhamlidr  ao.**  Gbsibh  tbn  a  gn 
mdth  gnb,  adi  abdr  thoaa  gnr  a  mathgiiamlidnn  donn  a*  gliUnn 
nainOi  a  choir  ihnaa  an  ao  air  ton  cnid  oidiidia,  agna  na  biodh  eagal 
ort  nadi  fhaigh  thn  eoid  'oa  oomhnadli.  *8  dh  'flibg  am  mathgham- 
hainn  a  *dol  gn  tigh  an  fhamhair.  "A  mhic  i\gh  Eirinn,**  ara*  *am  lamb 
air,  bba  'aan  targradh  thn  bhl  tigbinn,  ach  mar  d'  fbnair  mi  t*  athair, 
fhoair  mi  *mliae ;  cha  *n  *dl  flea  agam  co  dbin  chdrcas  mi  'tan  talamh 
thn  la  m*  chasan,  no  *nn  adhar  la  m'anan.**  "  Cha  dabn  tbn  aon  cbnid 
do  *n  da  chnkl,*'  thuirt  Idn.  *  Oir  aa  mathgiiamlidnn  donn  a'  gblinn 
rnhM  a  ehdr  aitoa'n  an.**    **Thig  a  atigb,  a  mhie  i)gh  Urinn,** 


1 7^  WKT  HIQHLAMD  TAUB. 

thttirt  ttin,  "'t  gbtibh  tha  gabhall  agad  gn  nftiCh  a  noelid ; " 
mar  thubhairt  b  *fMor.  Fhuair  lain  biadh  *a  deoch  gun  ghaiant  |  aoh 
gni  an  igeulachd  fiida  a  dbeknamh  goirìd,  thug  am  mathghamhahni 
Iain  latha  an  dtfigh  latha  gua  an  treat  Ikmhair.  *'A  nia,"  an*  am 
mathghamhainn,  "  cba  'n  'ail  mòran  eòlaia  agamaa  air  an  fha»hair  ao^ 
ach  cha  bhi  thu  fada  'tta  thigh  dar  a  dh*  fheomaa  In  dol  a  ghìtaèhd 
ris,  agna  ma  bhitheaa  e  tuillidh  *a  cmaidh  air  do  ahon,  abair  thnaa  na 
'm  biodh  agamsa  ma'glian  donn  a  ghlinn  uaine,  b*e  ain  do  maigli- 
•tir.*  Co  Inath'aa  diaidh  Iain  a  ttigh.  Ail  Ail  ara'  am  fiunhair 
mòr,  mar  d*fliuair  mi  t*  athair,  fhuair  mi  *mliac^  agna  *8a  chAla  gliabh 
iad ;  *a  dhèanadh  iad  a  bhogan  don  chreagan — an  t-aite  Ixi  chmaidha^ 
rachadh  iad  foidh  gu*n  gliiinean,  lan  t-hite  bu  bhnige  gu  *n  al^tdf  n, 
*•  bheiraadU  iad  fuaranan  fior  uiage  a  h-aodann  gach  creagain.  Thmg 
am  fkmhair  f  kagadh  goirt  na  dithia  do*dh*  Iain.  «« FÒU I  Foil  L*  thnlrt 
eaan,  na*m  biodh  agamsa  an  so  mathghamhainn  donn  a'  glillna 
naine,  cha  bhiodh  do  leum  co  sunndach;**  agus  cha  luaith  alabhair 
a  *m  fkcal  na  bha  am  ma*glian  coir  ri  'thaobh.  "  Seadh  1  Saadh  I  ara' 
am  fiunhair,  a  mhio  righ  Eirinn,  tha  iioa  agam  a  nis  air  do  gfanoth- 
ach  n*  is  fekrr  na  tha  agad  fli^n.**  *Se  bh*  ann  gun  d-òrdnich  am 
fkniliair  do  *n  clAobaÌr  alga  am  molt  a  b*  fhahrr  a  bba  *aa'  bhdna  a 
thoirt  dliachaidh,  agus  a*  chlosach  a  thilgeadh  ma  choinnaamh  an 
doruis  mhòir.  **A  nis,  Iain,  ars*  am  famhair,  tliig  Ìdairc^  agna 
luidhidh  i  air  closach  a  mhuilt  so,  agus  tha  foinneamh  air  duaia  na 
h-iolaire  so,  a  dh*  fheunias  tusa  a  ghearradh  dhi  le  aon  bheum  leia  a' 
chlaidbeamh  so,  ach  deur  fola  dia  'n  'fheud  thu  tharruinn."  Thkinig 
an  iolaira,  *s  cha  robli  i  fada  'g  itlieadh  dar  a  theaon  Iain  ritha,  *a  le 
aon  bheum  gheàrr  e  *m  fuinneamh  dhi  gun  aon  deur  fola  a  tliarruinn. 
'*  Anis  arsa  *n  iolairo,  thig  air  bun  mo  dha  sgtfitlie,  bho  ^Q  a  tlui  fioa 
agam  air  do  gbnothuch  n*  is  fehrr  na  th'  agad.f<(in.**  Uinn  e  ao,  agna 
bha  iad  uair  air  wuir,  *s  uair  air'talamh,  *s  uair  air  an  sgiathan,  gns  an 
d*  rhÌDÌg  iad  an  t-Kilean  uaine.  ''  Nis  Iain,  ars*  ise,  bi  ealamh,  *a 
lion  do  bhotuil ;  cuimhnich  gu  bheil  na  coin  dbubtia  air  fklbh  an 
ceartair.**  Kuair  a  Don  e  na  lM)tuil  do  'n  uisge  as  an  tobar,  faioear 
tigh  beag  làimh  ris.  Thuirt  Iain  ris  f^in  gu*n  rachadh  a  stigh,  a  gu 
*m  faiceadh  e  ùè  bh'  ann,  agus  a  cheud  seòmar  a  dh*  fhosgail  0» 
chunnaic  a  botull  Ihn  do  dh- uisge  beatha,  Bon  e  gloinne  as,  's  dh'  61 
e  'san  uair  a  dh*  61,  thug  e  sUil,  *s  bha  'm  Iwtull  cho  Ihn  sa  bha  a 
roimhe.  **  Bithidh  'm  botull  so  agam  cbmhia  ris  na  1>otuil  uisge,"  ara' 
asan.  Cliaidh  a  'n  sin  a  stij^h  do  sheomar  eile,  's  diunnaic  e  builionn ; 
thug  a  sliseag  as,  ach  bha  'm  builionn  cho  slkn  sa  bha  e  roimha. 
"  8'  Dia  cha  'n  fhhg  mi  thusV*  ars'  Iain.  Chaidh  e  air  aghaidh  mar 
so  goB  an  d'  rkinig  eseò  mar  eile;  chunnaic  e  mulachag  mhòr  chaise, 
t|iug  a  sliseag  do  *n  mhulachaig,  ach  bha  i  cho  slkn  sa  bha  i  roimhe. 


80S0LA0OD  Am  mm-OHAMHAINR.  173 


•Bithidh  ■oagamcòmhUri  each,**  m'cMii.  Choidh  • 'n  to  g« 
nòaar  die,  *■  hieur  *iui  lakOM  an  dn  an  t-aoa  yUeagan  botrriomi- 
aiek  b«  bhoidche  a  ehnmiaie  e  riamlL.  *  Ba  mhòr  am  bend  gm 
pbèf  bcMl  a  thoirt  dlmit,  aigtMoU,"  m*  Iain.  Beagan  *na  dheigh  aa, 
bam  lain  air  main  na  h-iolaire  *a  thog  i  a  aira  ehaa  chenmcheodna, 
gw  an  d-riOnig  iad  tigli  an  fhamhalrnihoir/a  bha  lad  apàidbeadh  a 
Mliàil  do  *n  lamhair,  agni  *a  ann  an  dn  a  bha  *n  lealladh  air  tnatli- 
aMdeh,*aeiunhairaui,*tbUdli,'tdeoeh.  *•  W^Iain,''ara*anilamhair, 
"am  fiw  thn  leithid  to  do  dlwocli  ann  an  tigh  t*  athar  an  Eirinn.** 
*  Path  I  ara*  Iain,  hn  I  a  laochain,  a  dbaina  eila,  tha  daoch  agamsa 
nadi  ionann.**  Thng  a  gloinna  do  ii  fbambair  aa  a  bbotnl,  ach  bba 
*ai  botnl  ebo  Ibn  *ia  bba  a  rofanhe.  "  Ifata,  an*  am  faoihab,  bhdr  mi 
fMa  da  chènd  nott  dboit  air  aon  a'  bhotoU,  arlan,  agna  dMIald.** 
**8  bargain  a  mata,*  an*  Iain,  "ach  gn  *liBam  aa  oead  leannan  a  bha 
agasMa  fhaotainn  ma  thig  I'n  rathad.**  "  Gbeibh  i  tin,"  ara'  am 
femhair,  "aeh  gva  an  «g«alachd  fiida  a  dhehnamh  golrid,  db*  fhbg  a 
gaeh  bailionn  *a  gach  mulachag  aig  an  da  fhamhair  eila,  air  a* 
chna^inant  cheodna  gn*  Ikigheadh  an  oend  leannan  bha  aige-aan  iad 
■a  *n  d*  thigeadh  I  'n  rathad.  Rhinig  Iain  an  ao  baile  mbr  athar  ana 
tm  Eirinn,  *8  fkioeara  dlia  bhrbthair  mardh*^bg  e  iad'nam  blaig<» 
cartan.  "  '8  febrr  dhnibh  tlghhin  dhachaidb  leamaa,111ean,**  are'  eaan, 
*a  gfaeibh  tibh  deb*  eodaich,  *8  each,  *■  dioHaid,  *•  iriaa  am  fear ;  agna 
aMV  10  rian  iad ;  ach  dar  a  bha  lad  dihth  do  thigh  an  atliair,  emaoin- 
Idi  a  bhrhithrean  gom  b'fhehrr  dhoibh  a  mharbhadli,'agM  '■  e  bh*ann 
gan  do  thblddi  lad  air,  *8  dar  a  thaoil  lee  e  bhi  marbh.thflg  lad  a  air 
aU  ghrraidh,  *f  Uing  iad  naidh  na  tri  botuU  niiga,  *«:dh*flialbh  lad 
dhachaidli.  Cha  robh  Iain  ro  fliada  an  to,  nnalr  a  thhinig  an  gobha 
aig  athair  an  ratiiad  le  Ihn  cairt  do  dh*  iamnn  mdrgeach.  Ghlaodh 
Iain  a  mach  eo  air  bith  an  citeaduidh  tlia  *n  tin,  01  a'dheanamh 
aobhair  dhbean.  Rug  an  gobha  air,  *8  thilg  a  Iain  am  meaeg  an 
laniinn,  agns  Ids  cbo  meirgeach  'aa  bha*n  t-iarmnn,  chaidh  e 
aan*8  gach  lot  *a  crenchd  a  bb*  air  Iain,  agna  'a  a  bh'  ann, 
gnn  do  cliinn  Idn  maol,  carrach.  Fhgaidh  ainn  Iain  an  ao,  agna 
tillidh  dnn  ria  an  killeagan  bhbidheach  a  dh*nihg  Iain  'aan  dlean 
naiaa.  Chinn  I  *n  ao  trom,  torracli,  breac,  ballacli,  *aan  oeann  tri  rhith- 
aaa,  bha  mac  br^gh  gille  aictf.  **  O  air  an  t-aaoghail  mhòr,**  ara* 
laa,«damar  a  fhuair  miae  ao?**  «Foilf  FoUf  *  ara*  a*chaUleach 
chaarc,  *  na  cnlreadh  dn  amaolnteach  ort ;  ao  dhnit  enn,  agna  eo  Inath 
pa  chi  e  atlidr  do  mhic,  lenmaidh  e  dr  mollach  a  chinn.  Chaidh  an 
t-eDaan  ndne  a  chminneadiadh  bho  diaann  gn  oeann,  'a  an  dnagh 
a  efanr  a  atigb  air  an  donia  chhU  *a  amach  dr  an  dome  bheòil,  arli 
chadoghlnabant^nn,*achad*flittdreadhathdranldnibh.  Thnbh- 
di  t  i  *n  io  "gn  falbhadh  i  faadh  an  t-aaoghail  gn  Idr,  gw  am  idgheadh 


174  WBT  HIGHLAND  TASJm. 

i  Athalr  a  Idnlbh.  Thalnig  i  Vi  m  ga  tigfa  an  fhamhalr  ■diUr,'* 
faioear  am botul.  "  Ai  t  Ai  1  deir  Im,  oo  thug  dholt  am  boCnl  ao?" 
Thuirt  am  fjunhair,  *'  *m  lain  òg  mao  righ  Kirum  a  dh'  fliàg  au* 
*  Uata  *■  leamsa  am  botuV*  Uioirt  ÌM^  ach  gn  an  iganladid  t$d*  a 
dbeànamh  goirid,  thàÌDlg  i  gn  tigh  gach  fkmhair,  *■  thug  i  laalikn 
gach  botul 's  gach  builionn  *8  gach  mulachag  chàiM:  Qua  mn  dhair- 
aadh  thall,  thàinig  i  gu  tigh  rtgh  Eirinn.  Chaidh  'n  M  caig  ea|ff-> 
aamh  na  h-Eirinn  a  chruiuneachadh  *8  droohaid  chandan  na  mailh. 
Chaidh  an  cur  a  ttlgh  air  an  domt  chhil,  's  a  mach  air  an  doma  hhaòU^ 
ach  cha  do  gbluaia  an  t-eun.  **  Dh*  fhabraich  i  'n  m^  an  robh  a  h-aoa 
na  h-aon  idir  elle  ann  an  Eirinn  nach  robh  *n  ao  V*  '*  Tha  gilla  maol^ 
carrach  anna  a*  chekrdach  agaroaa,**  thuirt  an  gobha  ach;*  'Car  air 
na  dlMtli,  ouir  an  so  e,  ddr  iae ;  '■  cha  bo  luaitha  a  chnnnaloaa 
oaaon  a  ghilla  mhaoll  charraich  na  'thug  a  itaag  *8  luidhaar  air 
mhullalch  a*  gbllla  charrich.  Rug  i  air  *■  phòg  i  a.'""S  tuia  athairmo 
Mniblu'*  *'Ach  Iain,"  araa  righ  mòr  Eirinn,"  *t  tnsaa  (huair  na  botofl 
uiage  dhòmhta.**  **  Ach  gu  daarbh  *■  mi,"  ara*  Iain.  **  WUl,  mata,  dè 
tha  thu  toilaach  a  dhèanamh  ri  *d'  dhithia  bhraithrean?**  "A  diaait 
rnd  a  bha  iadaan  toileach  a  dhèanamh  ormaa,  cur  aa  doibh :  **  agnt  % 
a  ain  fain  a  rinneadh.  Phbs  Iain  *t  nighean  ligh  an  Eilaan  Uaina^  % 
rion  iad  banaia  mliòr  ghreadhnach  a  mhair  aaachd  lathan  'a  laacbd 
bliadbna  *•  cha  chluinneadh  tu  ach  llg,  lig,  'a  l>ig,  big,  ftiaim  tall 
*a  tamiÌDg  pinne,  6r  'ga  phronnadh  bho  bhonn  an  ooiaa  gu  barr  am 
meòir  Cad  abeachd  bliadhna  'a  aheachd  lathan. 

Written  from  the  recitation  of  Johv  MaoDomald,  trayelling 
tinker.  lie  wanders  all  over  the  Highlanda,  and  livea  in  a  tent 
with  hia  family.  IIo  can  neither  read  nor  write.  He  repeata 
aome  of  his  stories  by  heart  fluently,  and  almost  in  the  aama 
words.  I  have  fuUowcd  hia  recitation  aa  closely  aa  poaaibla,  but 
it  waa  exceedingly  difficult  to  keep  him  stationary  for  any  length 
of  time.  llaoTOR  Urquuabt. 

Tha  tinker's  comments  I  got  from  the  transcriber.  John 
himself  is  a  character ;  he  is  about  fifty  years  of  age ;  hia  lather, 
an  old  soldier,  is  alive  and  about  eighty ;  and  there  are  nnmeroua 
younger  branches ;  and  they  were  all  encamped  under  the  root  of 
a  tree  in  a  quarry  close  to  luverary,  at  Easter  1850. 

The  father  tells  many  stories,  but  his  memory  is  failing.  Tlia 
son  told  me  several,  and  I  have  a  g^ood  many  of  them  written 
down.  They  both  recite ;  they  do  not  simply  tell  the  story,  but 
act  it  with  changing  voice  and  gesture,  aa  if  they  took  an  interest 


TBM  BBOWV  BiUE  OT  TBM  GBHir  OLBL 


«7J 


Ml  ìKtmd  lUrrf  irto  the  nipii  a^  ftn  of  the  tale.    TWybdeag 
to  the  nee  of  "Gnrdi.'*  aad  are  at  Bach  aoaadi  at  te  gi] 


The  &ther,  to  aee  te  aoa'a  < 
Ho  aemd  ni  the  4Sd  ia  hie  Tovtk    Oae  aoa 
aaddocoBoi  kaov  a  smgle  atory;  the  other  ii  a  epoHng 
radar,  a  Cmmnm  iehwaa,  who  haowi  all  ikm  iotkm  aad  rhora  hi 
the  Highhada,»alrf  tSoa,aad 
Saalhcno  to  iih.     Hie  aaihìtÌQa  ii  to 

Thia  hear  alory  b  lifce  a  gTMl  bmsj  othere  which  I  ha?a  got 
eliaahm  ta  te  Highlaiiaa,  hat  I  have  bom  told  axactlj  ta  the 
OMM  waf .  It  ihoaU  he  araeh  hmfer,  hat  the  waBdoriag  apirit 
aftheaaawoaUaotlethnireetto&talehÌBBtory.  IWjhad 
la  aova  to  n  oathooae  aad  let  hiai  roaai  ahovt  asoagot  te 
Aariaga,  aad  ewtag  hb  anM,  heCNO  thie  araeh  wae  gal  oat  of  hiai. 

I  have  Ibaad  the  mm  n 
where.    I  eeald  aerer  get  Lappa  to  lit  etilllbr  tea 
I  triad  to  draw  theai ;  aad  te  air  of  a  hoaae  aeesod  to 

I  have  hitherto  fiuled  ia  ratchiag  an  Eagfiah  tàaker, 
I  let  dip  oae  day  in  Loadoa,  aad  to  whoai  I  proaiieed  good 
pi^  if  he  woaU  cone  aad  dictate  a  etory  which  he  had  told  bo. 
Thara  ii  a  ndlar  waaderiag  popalatsoa  ta  Norway  aad  Bwedea. 
They  owB  hoata  aad  carta,  aad  pretend  to  aagicarta;  and  are 
bored  and  deteatod  by  hoaa^oUera  aa  wisarde  and  thiovaa.  It 
b  aaid  that  theae  Norwegian  wanderen  hold  a  aieetiag  on  a  hfll 

»00  a  year,  and  barter  and  eeO,  and  etehanga 
they  aay  have  aciqaired  ia  their  traTola.  I  have  hoerd 
a  great  deal  aboat  theai  htm  peaaaata.  I  have  aeon  theai,  hat 
verf  eddoei  ia  Norway.  I  onoe  met  a  party  ia  the  gloaaiag  an 
a  Swodbh  iMd,  and  a  IttUe  girl,  who  wae  foQowiag  and  drirbg  a 
ia  a  poeCiag-cart,  when  ihe  net  tbeai,  ^^88^  ^ 
and  galloped  (or  dear  Kb. 

iler  race  in  Bpata,  and  thoogh  they  are  net  aU 

they  ate  daeeed  with  tbeoi.    The  hietory  of  theoe  wan. 

woald  be  carioaa  if  it  ooald  be  learned.    Borrow*!  Bibb  b 

gi^ee  ao«e  tnagbt,  bat  there  b  etiO  mmA  to  be  kaowa 

theai.    **  Loadoa  Laboar  and  te  Poor,*'  and  reporta  on 

Bagged  Schoob,"  treat  ofetarflar  poopb. 

Thb  etory  May  be  ooaparad  with  Uri»«*a  Water  of  lib. 


THE  THREE  SOLDIEEa 

From  James  MacLacblan,  ier?anty  IiUy. 

nnHERE  was  befoie  a  regiment  in  Dublin  in 
-^  Erin,  and  it  was  going  a  long  journey.  Hieie 
was  a  sergeant,  a  corporal,  and  a  single  soldier,  who 
had  sweethearts  in  the  towa  They  went  to  see  them 
on  the  day  that  they  were  to  go,  and  they  stayed  too 
long,  and  the  regiment  left  them ;  they  followed  i^ 
and  they  were  going  and  going  till  the  night  came  on 
them.  They  saw  a  light  a  long  way  from  them  ;  and 
if  it  was  a  long  way  from  thcni,  it  was  not  long  they 
were  in  reaching  it.  They  went  in,  the  floor  was 
ready  swept,  and  a  fire  on  it^  and  no  one  in ;  they 
sat  at  the  fire  toasting  themselves ;  they  were  not  long 
there  when  the  single  soldier  rose,  to  whom  was  the 
name  of  John,  to  look  what  was  in  the  chamber,  be- 
cause there  was  a  light  in  it  There  was  there  a  board 
covered  with  every  sort^of  meat,  and  a  lighted  candle 
on  it ;  he  went  up,  ho  began  to  eat^  and  the  rest  be- 
gan to  hinder  him,  for  that  he  had  no  business  with  it 
Wlien  they  saw  that  he  did  not  stop,  they  went  up 
and  they  lx;gnn  themsclvea  Tliere  were  three  bods  in 
the  chamber,  and  one  of  them  went  to  lie  in  each  bod ; 
they  had  not  laid  long  when  three  great  red  girls 
came  in,  and  one  of  them  stretched  herself  near  each 
one  of  the  beds ;  and  when  they  saw  the  time  fitting 


»77 

m  fbe  Boon^  flwj  von  a^  vmI  svmy.  Wka  fbe 
giili  lOM,  it  eoald  Boi  be  kMVB  ^li  a  HI  kad  ew 
off  tko  boaid.  Hkj  Hi  wmi  tiwj  took  tlwir 
Hib  Mgent  Md  ^li  tiwj  kad  bolter  fbOofw 
fbe  Rginei^ ;  Old  JiAn  aid  Uwi  tiwjr  elKMdd  Ml  Ibl-  ^ 
kmit;  m  long  at  1m  eoaU  gel  nwel  and  leal  Uwl  1m 
wvnldaolga  Wksn  diiuier  time  came  thej  ■>&  sBd 
thej  took  tlwir  dmnec  Tbe  aeigeaal  aaidtliej  bad 
better  go ;  aad  John  Mid  tbal  tiiej  ahonld  not  ga  .^ 
Yfhm  9ttpp9i  taub  enub  tlwywl  and  thej  took  tbeir 
aiqiper ;  after  aoppiog  Ùmj  went  to  lie  down,  eadi  one 
to  UaovB  bed.  The  gizia  came  tbia  nif^  too^  aad 
went  to  lie  down  as  befoieL  In  the  morning  when 
thej  ttw  the  time  fitting  thej  loae  and  they  went 
away.  When  the  lada  roee  the  board  was  ooTered, 
and  it  could  not  be  known  thai  a  bit  had  erer  oome 
off  it  Thej  aat  and  they  took  their  meal ;  and  when 
they  took  their  meat^  the  aeigeant  said  thai  they  womld 
go  al  all  erenta.  John  said  thai  they  ahonld  not  ga 
They  took  their  dinner  and  their  sapper  as  they  used ; 
they  went  to  lie  down ;  the  girls  came  and  they  lay 
down  after  them.  In  the  morning  the  eldest  gaye  tihÀ 
sergeant  a  purse,  and  erery  time  he  would  unlooee  it, 
it  would  be  full  of  gold  and  silver. 

She  said  to  the  middle  one,  '*  What  wilt  thou  give 
to  thine  f*  ^  I  will  give  him  a  towel,  and  erery 
time  he  spreads  it  it  will  be  full  of  erery  sort  of  meal" 
She  gaye  the  towel  to  the  corporal ;  uid  she  said  to 
the  youngest,  **  What  wilt  thou  giro  to  thine  own  t** 
''  I  will  gire  him  a  whistle,  and  erery  time  he  plays 
it  he  will  be  in  the  yery  middle  of  the  regiment**  She 
gaye  him  the  whistle ;  they  left  their  blessing  with 
them,  and  they  went  away.  ''I  wont  let  it  rest 
here,'*  said  John  ;  "  I  will  know  who  they  are  before 
I  go  further  forward.**     He  followed  them,  and  he 

N 


178  WEST  HIGHLAND  TAIJB. 

saw  them  going  down  a  glen  ;  and  when  he  was  aboat 
to  be  down,  they  came  to  meet  him,  ciying.  "  What  ia 
the  matter  with  you  1  *'  says  he.  ^  Much  is  the  matter 
with  us,**  said  they,  "  that  we  are  under  cbarmsi  till 
we  find  three  lads  who  wUl  spend  three  nights  with 
us  without  putting  a  question  to  us  ;  and  if  thou  hadst 
stayed  without  following  us  we  were  free."  Is  there 
any  way  tliat  you  can  get  free  but  that  t  **  said  ha 
'*  There  is,"  said  they.  ''There  is  a  tree  at  the  end  of 
the  house,  and  if  you  come  at  the  end  of  a  day  and 
year  and  pluck  up  the  tree,  we  were  free."  John 
turned  back  where  the  rest  were,  and  he  told  them 
how  it  happened  to  him;  and  they  gave  this  ad- 
vice to  each  other  that  they  should  return  back  to 
Dublin  again,  because  it  was  not  worth  their  while 
to  follow  the  regiment.  They  returned  back  to 
Dublin. 

That  night  John  said, — ''  I  had  better  go  to  see 
/  the  king's  daughter  to-night**  "Thou  had'st  better 
stay  in  the  house,*'  said  the  rest^  *'  than  go  there." 
"  I  will  go  there,  at  all  events,*'  says  he.  He  went^ 
and  he  reached  the  king's  house ;  he  struck  at  the 
door,  one  of  the  gentlewomen  asked  him  what  he 
wanted ;  and  he  said  that  he  wished  to  be  speaking 
to  the  king's  daughter.  The  king's  daughter  came 
where  he  was,  and  she  asked  what  business  he  had 
with  her.  ''  I  will  give  thee  a  whistle,"  said  he,  ''  and 
when  thou  playest  it  thou  wilt  be  in  the  middle  of 
such  a  regiment"  Wlien  she  got  the  wliistle  she 
drove  him  down  stairs,  and  she  shut  tlio  door  on  him. 
"  How  went  it  wiUi  thee  Ì  *'  said  they.  "  She 
wheedled  the  whistle  from  mo,"  said  he.  Ho  did 
not  stop  till  he  had  beguiled  a  loan  of  the  purse  from 
the  sergeant  "I  had  better,"  said  he,  ''go  to  see 
the  king's  daughter  again."     He  went  away  and  he 


/ 


THB  THRU  80LDIBB8.  I79 

reached  the  house ;  he  saw  the  king's  daughter  ;  she 
wheedled  the  pnise  from  him,  and  drove  him  down 
stairs  as  she  did  hefore ;  and  he  tamed  hack.  He  did 
not  stop  till  he  hegailed  a  loan  of  the  towel  from  the 
coiporal  He  went  again  where  the  king^s  daughter 
wa&  ''  What  wilt  thou  give  me  this  journey  t "  said 
she.  ''A  towel,  and  when  it  is  opened  it  will  be  full 
of  every  sort  of  meat**  ''  Let  me  see  it^"  said  sh& 
''  We  will  spread  it  out^"  said  h&  He  spread  it  out, 
and  there  was  a  comer  that  would  not  lie  right  He 
said  to  her  to  stand  on  the  comer ;  she  stood  on  it ; 
he  stood  himself  on  another  comer,  and  he  wished  to 
be  in  the  uttermost  isle  of  the  deep ;  and  himself 
and  the  king's  daughter,  and  the  towel,  were  in  it  in 
five  minutes.  There  was  the  very  prettiest  island  that 
man  ever  saw,  and  nothing  in  it  but  trees  and  fruits.  ^ 
There  they  were,  going  through  the  island  backwards 
and  forwards,  and  sleep  came  on  him.  lliey  came  to  a 
pretty  little  hollow,  and  he  laid  his  head  in  her  lap  ; 
and  he  took  a  death  grip  of  her  apron,  in  order  that 
she  should  not  get  away  without  his  perceiving  her. 
When  he  slept  she  loosed  the  apron ;  she  left  him 
there  ;  she  took  the  towel  with  her ;  she  stood  on  it ; 
she  wished  herself  to  be  in  her  father's  house,  and  she 
was  in  it  When  he  awoke  he  had  nothing  to  get,  he  had  ^ 
nothing  to  see  but  trees  and  birds  ;  he  was  then  keep- 
ing himself  alive  with  the  fruits  of  the  island,  and  hit 
upon  apples  ;  and  when  he  would  eat  one  sort  of  them 
they  would  put  a  deer^s  head  on  him  ;  and  when  he 
would  eat  another  sort  of  them,  they  would  put  it  off 
him. 

One  day  he  gathered  a  great  many  of  the  apples, 
and  he  put  the  one  sort  in  the  one  end  of  the  pock, 
and  the  other  sort  in  the  other  end.  He  saw  a  vessel 
going  past^  he  waved  to  her ;  a  boat  came  to  shore, 


1 80  WEST  HIGHLAVD  TALBL 

and  they  took  him  on  board.  The  captain  took  him 
down  to  meat,  and  he  left  the  pock  abova  The  aailois 
opened  the  pock  to  see  what  was  in  it ;  when  thej 
saw  that  apples  were  in  it^  they  began  to  eat  them. 
They  ate  the  sort  that  would  put  deers'  horns  on  them, 
and  they  began  fighting  till  they  were  like  to  break 
the  vessel.  When  the  captain  heard  the  row,  he  came 
up ;  and  when  he  saw  them,  he  said,  "  Thou  bad  man, 
what  hast  thou  done  to  my  men  now  V*  "  Whai^"* 
said  John,  "  made  thy  men  so  impudent  that  they 
would  go  and  look  into  any  man*s  pock  f '  *'  What 
wilt  thou  give  me,**  said  John,  "  if  I  leave  them  as 
they  were  before  Y*  The  skipper  took  fright,  and  he 
said  that  he  would  give  him  the  vessel  and  cargo  at 

/  the  first  port  they  reached.  Hero  he  opened  the  pock, 
and  he  gave  them  the  other  sort,  and  the  horns  fdl  off 

/  them.  It  was  a  cargo  of  gold  was  on  the  ship,  and 
it  was  to  Dublin  she  was  going.  When  they  ar- 
rived the  captain  said  to  liim  to  be  taking  care  of  the 
vessel  and  cargo,  that  he  was  done  with  it  ''  Be 
patient,**  said  John,  "  till  we  see  how  it  goes  with  us 
at  the  end  of  a  few  days.'*  He  wont  away  on  the 
morrow  to  sell  the  apples  about  the  town  with  nothing 
on  but  torn  clothes.  He  went  up  through  the  town, 
and  he  came  opposite  the  king's  house,  and  he  saw  the 
king's  daughter  mih.  her  head  out  of  the  window.  She 
asked  that  a  pound  of  the  apples  should  be  sent  up  to 
her.  He  said  she  should  try  how  they  would  agree 
with  her  first  He  threw  up  an  apple  to  her  of  the 
sort  that  would  put  a  deer's  head  on  her  ;  when  she 
ate  the  apple  there  came  a  deer's  head  and  horns  on 
her.  The  king  sent  forth  word,  that  if  any  man  what- 
soever could  be  found,  who  would  heal  his  daughter, 
that  he  should  get  a  peck  of  gold,  and  a  peck  of  silver, 
and  herself  to  marry.     She  was  thus  many  days,  and 


f8i 

BO  maa  ooming  that  ooald  do  my  good  at  alL  John 
came  to  the  door  with  the  torn  clothe%  aaking  to  get 
in ;  and  when  they  nw  hia  like,  th^  would  not  let 
him  in ;  bat  ahe  had  a  little  brother  who  aaw  them 
keeping  him  ont^  and  he  told  it  to  hia  &ther ;  and  hia 
father  aaid,  *'  Thoa^^  it  were  the  beggar  of  the  greenT 
Word  went  after  him  that  he  ahoidd  retomy  and  he 
returned.  The  king  aaid  to  him,  *'  Could  he  heal  hia 
daughter  T  and  he  aaid  "^  that  he  would  tiy  it"  They 
took  him  np  to  the  chamber  where  aho  waa.  He  aat^ 
and  he  took  a  book  oat  of  hia  pockety  with  nothing  in 
it^  pretending  that  he  waa  reading  it  **  Didat  thoa,"* 
aaid  he^  **  wheedle  a  whiatle  from  a  poor  aoldier ;  when 
he  woald  play  it»  it  would  take  him  to  the  middle  of 
the  regiment  I"  *"  I  wheedled,**  said  ahe.  "^  If  that 
ia  not  foand,"  aaid  he,  "  I  cannot  heal  theeL**  ''It  ia,** 
aaya  ahe.  They  brought  the  whiatle  to  himu  When 
he  got  the  whiatle  he  gaye  her  a  piece  of  apple,  and 
one  of  the  home  fell  off  her.  ''I  can't,"  aaid  he,. ''do 
more  to-day,  bat  I  will  come  here  to-morrow.  Then 
he  went  oat,  and  hia  old  comradea  met  him.  The 
trade  they  had  waa  to  be  alaldng  lime  and  drawing 
water  for  atone  maaona.  He  knew  them,  bat  they  did  ^ 
not  know  him  ;  he  noticed  nothing  at  all,  bat  he  gaye 
them  ten  ahillinga,  and  he  aaid  to  them,  "  Drink  the 
health  of  the  man  who  gave  them.**  He  left  them 
there,  and  he  retamed  to  the  ship.  On  the  morrow 
he  went  where  the  king^a  daaghter  was  ;  he  took  out 
the  book,  and  he  aaid  to  her,  "  Didat  thou  wheedle  a 
parse  from  a  poor  aoldier,  that  woald  be  foil  of  gold 
and  silTer  every  time  it  waa  opened  T  "  I  wheedled,** 
aaid  sh&  "  If  that  ia  not  foand,"  aaid  he,  "  I  cannot 
heal  thee.**  "  It  ia,"  aaid  she  ;  and  they  gare  him  the 
parae.  When  he  got  the  parse  he  gave  hsr  a  piece  of 
the  apple^  and  another  horn  fell  off  her.     "  I  can  do 


1 82  WBT  HIGHLAND  TàIJB. 

no  moie  to-day,"  said  he^  ^  but  I  will  oome  the  nasi 
night'*     He  went  whore  his  old  comiades  were,  and 
he  gave  them  other  ten  shiUinga,  and  he  aaid  to  tliem, 
*'  To  drink  the  health  of  the  man  who  gave  them." 
Then  he  returned  to  the  yessel      The  captain  aaid  to 
him,    "Was  he  going  to  take  charge  of  the  Teasel 
now  f  *     Said  he,   ''  Catch  patience  till  the  end  d  a 
day  or  two,  till  we  see  how  it  goes  with  us.**     He  re- 
turned the  next  night  to  see  the  king^s  daughter.     He 
p^ve  a  pull  at  the  book  as  he  used  to  do, — ''  Didst 
thou  wheedle,"  said  he,  "  a  towel  from  a  poor  soldier, 
that  would  be  full  of  every  kind  of  meat  eyery  time  it 
was  undone  1**      "  I  wheedled,*'  said  she.      "  If  that 
towel  is  not  to  be  found,  I  cannot  cure  thee,"  says  he. 
"  It  is,"  says  she.     They  gave  it  to  him  ;  as  quick  as 
lie  got  it^  he  gave  her  a  whole  apple  ;  and  when  she 
ate  it  she  was  as  she  was  before.     Here  he  got  a  peck 
of  gold  and  a  "peek  of  silver ;  and  they  said  to  him 
that  he  would  get  herself  to  marry.     "  I  will  come 
to-morrow,"  said  he.     He  went  the  way  of  his  old 
comrades  this  time  too  ;  he  gave  them  ten  shillingSy 
and  he  said  to  them,  "  To  drink  the  health  of  the  man 
who  gave  them."     Said  they,  ''  It  would  be  pleasing 
to  us  to  know  what  kind  friend  is  giving  us  the  like  of 
this  every  night"    "  Have  you  mind,"  said  he,  "  when 
we  were  in  such  a  place,  and  that  we  promised  to  the 
three  girls  that  we  would  go  there  again  a  year  from 
the  time."     Tlien  they  knew  him.     "That  time  has 
gone  past  long  ago,"   said  they.      "  It  is  not  gone," 
said  he  ;  "  next  night  is  the  night"      He   returned 
whore  the  captain  was ;  he  said  to  him  that  himself 
and  his  cargo  might  be  oiT ;  that  he  would  not  be 
troubling  him  ;  that  he  hod  enough.     On  the  morrow 
he  wont  past  the  king's  house,  and  the  king's  daughter 
said  to  him,    "  Art  thou  going  to  marry  me  to-day  V* 


1 8$ 

^  No^  nor  to-morrow,'*  mad  ba  He  fetamed  where 
the  rest  were^  and  he  began  to  set  them  in  order  for 
going  where  they  promised.  He  gaye  the  pone  to 
the  sergeant^  the  towel  to  the  corporal,  and  the  whistle 
he  kept  himself  He  boo^t  three  hones,  and  thej 
went  riding  with  great  haste  to  the  jdaoe  to  which 
thej  had  promised  to  ga  When  thef  reached  the 
hoM  thej  cao^  the  tree,  and  it  came  with  them  at 
the  first  pnlL  The  three  girls  came  so  white  and 
smiling  where  thej  were,  and  thej  were  free  from  the 
spells.  Ererj  man  of  them  took  his  own  with  him ; 
they  came  back  to  Dublin,  and  ihej  married. 


URSOEUU 

Bba  nhàbfè  lo  i¥ii>iiinM  aod  am  BaUediith  an  Kirinn,  ^  Uia  i 
tbibh  tir  tarM  fada.  Bba  atfirdaaaii,  corpora],  agoa  aaighdaar  iIb- 
gllte  aig  an  robh  leomialn  aoM  a*  bhaila.  Chaidh  iada'mraieiiiaaa 
latha  bha  iad  ri  folMi,  *•  dh*  fhan  Sad  tonUdh  b  bda.  *•  dh' fbkg  an 
rAMaaaidiad.  Laaa  iad  i  *•  bha  iad  a*  folbh  *•  a*  folbh  g«a  am  d* 
fhUaig  aa  otdhcfaa  orra.  Chonnaie  iad  tohia  fiMla  aatha,  *li  bm  b* 
(iMda  aatha  eba  b*  fhada  bha  iadMn  *ga  ndgfaioebd.  Chaklh  Sad  a 
idfh.  Bha  *B  i-oriar  r^dh,  igiiabte,  *•  gtalbhaa  air,  *•  gvn  daina 
atlfh.  ShoidhSadaif  a'ghwabhan'ffaagaradh.  Cha  faT  fhada  "bha 
lad  martin  nor  a  dh'  tfiridh  an  laighdaar  ringflta^  d*  an  b*ainm  Iain, 
a  dh'  anhare  de  "bha  'tan  t  ■aombar,  a  thaobh  gvn  robh  aoliit  ann. 
Bha  *n  tin  bord  air  a  chynieachadh  leia  a'  h-nila  aeòrta  bVlh,  'a 
eoinncal  laiai' ah-.  Chaidh  a  toat ;  thòiaich  a  air  iUmuih ;  *a  thòiaich 
chch  air  a  bhacail,  o  nach  robh  gnoiluich  aigt  ria.  Nor  a  ohnnnaie 
iadBachdotlade,chaidhiadtnat,*tthòiaiehiadr<An.  Bhatrilcap- 
aichean  anna  an  Uaeòmbar,  't  chaidh  Cmt  dhia  laidlia  anna  gach 


Cha  b'  fhada  a  bha  lad  *nan  laidha  nnr  a  thhinig  trl  nighaaaan 
tabn  *niagha  ttigh,  't  thVn  U  aca  I  f^n  aig  beulthaobh  gach  t^  de  na 
laapakhaan,  *t  nor  a  chunnaic  lad  an  t-aai  iomchnidh  anns  a*  mhaidinn 
dh'  Arldh  lad,  agna  dh*  fholbh  lad. 


1 84  Wnr  HIGHLAND  TALBL 

Nor  a  dh' «rklh  iM  MigbdMrtn  diA  ^11  althnidito  giB  d*  tliUB% 
mlr  bhàr  a'  bhUird  rUmh.  SbiikUi  iail,  'b  gbiOih  ind  tn  btedh. 
Thofat  an  MÌidiMui  gum  b*  fbcàm  dbaibh  ut  rHammaia  tLÌmmtalmm, 
'•  thoirt  Iain  nach  leanadb.  Fhad  'sa  gbdbhaadh  %  bbladh  "iui 
tbkmh  naeh  fblbbadh  e.  Nur  a  thbinig  aa  t-am  dlniiaaraob,  alnldli 
lad  *•  gbabb  Ud  an  dinnair.  Tbnirt  an  afirdiian  gum  b'  fbtàns 
dbaibb  fblbb,  *•  tbairt  Iain  nacb  folbbadb.  Nur  a  thbinlg  am 
sioparacb,  •bnidh  lad  '•  gbabb  lad  an  tlopair.  An  dèigh  aa  iiopaiaah 
cbaldb  lad  a  laidh«,  gach  fear  d'a  leaba  (Hn. 

Tbklnig  na  nigbaanan  an  oldbcbe  ao  cuidMchd,  tduddhUlaidha 
annt  a*  b-uUe  leaba  dblu.  Anne  a*  mbaldlnn,  nur  a  diannak  lad  an 
Uam  lomcbuidl^  db*  tflridh  lad  *•  db'  fbolbb  Ud. 

Nur  a  db'  tfiridb  na  glUean  bba  *in  bbrd  obimlcbCa,  't  cha  n  altli- 
nlcbte  gun  d*  thbinig  mir  riamb  dbetb.  Sbuldb  lad  *•  gbabb  Sad  am 
bladb,  *•  nur  a  gbabb  lad  am  biadb  tbuht  an  Mlrdtean  gum  fblbbadh 
lad  oodblu.  Tbulrt  Iain  nacb  folbbadb.  Gbabb  lad  aa  dinniir 
'•  an  fiopalr  mur  a  b*  bbbaltt    Cbaldb  lad  a  laidbe. 

Tbàinlg  na  nigbeanan  *u  laidb  lad  aa  an  dtfigb.  Anne  a*  mbaldhin 
tbng  an  t^  *ba  ebine  aporan  do  'n  t-aelrdaean,  *a  a'  b-uile  b-ualra  db' 
fboagladb  I  e  bbiodb  e  Ibn  Ob*  la  alrgld.  Dra*  i  ria  an  ttf  mbaadbon- 
aich,  *'  De  *bbeir  tbuaa  do  t'  fhear  feinf*  «  fibeir  mlae  dba  tutballt,  % 
a*  b  uile  b-ualr  a  egaoUeaa  e  i  bidb  I  Ibn  de  na  b-uile  eeòrm  Udb.** 
Thug  I  "n  tttthailt  do  'n  cborporal,  *a  tbulrt  i  ria  an  ttf  b'  òlge^  **I>d 
^bbelr  tbuaa  do  t'  fbear  feiu?*  '*Bbeir  ml  dba  fldeag,  *a  a*  b-nila 
b'uair  a  abelnneaa  e  I  bidb  e  *n  tela  meadboln  na  rèiaeamaid.**  Tbug 
I  dha  an  fUdeag.    Db*  fbkg  iad  beannachd  aca  *a  dh*  fbolbb  bid. 

**  Cha  leig  mi  leia  an  ao  e,'*  ura*  Iain, "  bidb  fbloa  *am  co  Ud  ma  'ki 
d*  thdid  mi  na  *a  faide  air  m*  aghaidb."  Lean  e  Ud,  'a  chunnaio  e  lad 
a*  dol  a)oa  le  gleann,  *a  nur  a  bha  e  thun  a  bhi  abloa  tlibinig  lad  "na 
eliolnneamb,  *a  Ud  a*  caoineadh.  <*De  tb*  olrbb?"  ura*  eaan.  **  *& 
mòr  a  th*  oimn,**  ura*  iadaan ;  "  tba  ainn  fo  gbeaaan  gua  am  faigb  iinn 
tri  glllean  a  laidbeaa  leinn  tri  oidcbean  gun  cbeiad  a  chur  oImn,  'a  nam 
fanadh  tbuaa  gun  ar  leantainn  bba  alun  ma  agaoil.**  **Am  bb«dl 
dòigb  earn  bitb  air  am  faigb  aibb  ma  agaoil,"  ura*  eaan,  **  acb  tin  ?  ** 
**  Tba,**  ura'  Iadaan;  **  tba  craobb  aig  oeann  an  tigbe,  *a  na'n  d*  tbigeadb 
aIbb,  an  oeann  U  U  blUdhna,  'a  a'  cbraobb  ain  a  apionadb  bba  ainne 
ma  agaoii" 

**  Thill  Iain  air  aU  Ur  an  robb  cbcb;  dh'  innU  e  dbaibb  mar  a 
thacbair  dba ;  a  chuir  iad  an  comhairle  r'a  cli^ile  gun  tilleadb  lad  air 
an  aU  do  Bbailecliath  a  ritbiad,  chionn  nacb  b'  fbUcb  dbaibb  an 
rtfiaeamaid  a  leantainn.  Thill  iad  do  BhaileclUth  air  an  aia.  An 
oidhche  ain  ura'  Iain,  **  'S  fbeàrra  dbomh  dol  a  dh'  amharc  oighean 


i85 

Dk*  fbolbk  •  *b  I 

Dk' flMÒraidk  b.«Mi  4i  M  MMlhM  mU«  4i  *bba  dUlh  air,  li  tlMht 
•  gn  robh  toil  dgt  "bU  *braidyMi  ri  BÌghcai  ui  ilf  k.  TIAii% 
■iglMM  uiiigli  Cv  ni  rikh  i^ 'b  dh' OMÒfBkfc  1 44  *to  gMChwà  ft  Ml* 
•iftrltlic  "Blwifiawitndti^'wi' w,  "'baf  ft  itiiiiiii 
thalUdhUraftMftBMadlMiftUcydiodftfiittftMM.*  11«  a 
fhMir  ÌM an  AidMc bkraab I kb M MaigUr i^ *b  4kyBB  l<k  dUraa 
ak.  "IMMT^aidkaniir  anriadwa.  «Mktani*toAklMc«HB,* 
an'cHM.  Ckft  da  itai  a  gaa  an  da  ■hull  a  coiafhiaD  di  'k 
a  *B  t-aAdnaiL  •'SHMknadhoad^*  «nr«aB.«diladh' 
BighMBaarticli'rilliitd.'' 

Dh' fkalbk  a 'b  rkUf  a  *a  tigk  CkaiMie  a  Bigkcaaaa  rigk; 
■lMani*kiporaaaaMlia;  bkraab  i  Ma  aa  ataigyr  a  auva  riaa  I 
raiaakkl;  \  tUIl  a  air  aiiw  Clia  daitad  a  gat  aa  da  ailwall  a  eoia- 
gkiall  da  *a  tatliaÌH  a  *b  diorporaL 

Chaidli  a  Vithisd  ftf  an  lobh  aigbcan  aa  rìgh.  "De  *bliair  Urn 
dhoah  airaaUtiablialio7''vB'ÌM.  oTathaih, '•naradli'fho^r- 
lar  I  Udh  i  làa  de  aa  b-^iila  MÒna  bèdh."  «  Uig  fhaksinn  domh  i,** 
an'ÌM.  "SgaoOUhtÌB  a  BMch  i,"  aia'cMui.  Sgaofl  a  mach  i,  "b 
blia  oiacan  di  nadi  lajdlwadh  ga  eeart.  Tlmirt  a  ritlia  iMniaih  air 
anoitean.  8hcaa1air.  Sheas  a  fifin  air  oÌMan  dla,  *•  gliaklh  a  by 
ann  aa  aikan  ioRudlach  aa  daiaihaa.  "8  bha  a  Cfin,  it  nigiiaan  an 
rtgli,  *t  an  tatliaflt  aan  ann  aa  eòig  miooaidoaB.  Dlia  *tin  an  aaa 
alltan  a  Im  MiMdlielia  a  diaaaaie  daiaa  riaasb,  %  gvn  ai  aaa  aeb 
craobbaa  it  aitattn.  Dha  iad  aa  tin  a'  lolbb  fcadb  an  tOtaa  air  an 
ait  *•  air  aa  agbaidb,  *t  thbinig  an  cadal  airtaa.  Thblnig  lad  gm 
lagan  bòidbaacb,  't  obair  atan  a  ditaaa  *na  b-aebdtt^  't  rian  a  grdtai 
bbb  air  a  b-apran,  air  alt  *b  naeb  fhaigbaadb  i  air  folbb  gan  a  mbbtb^ 
ckaian  dL  Mar  a  ebaidU  ttaa  db*  fbaatgail  itt  an  t-apraai  db*  fbbg 
i*atia  t;  tbog  è  laatba  aa  tatbaUt|  ibaat  I  anai  gbaldblbbi*^ 
tigb  a  b-atliar  i  *m  bba  1  tan. 

Nar  a  dhbltg  ctaa  cba  robb  nl  ri  fbaataina  aiga,  h  eba  robb  ni  ri 
fbaldBB  aiga,  aeb  craoblian  it  aanlaitli.  Bba  a  *b  ila  a*  tigbfaui  btb 
air  mttan  an  ailaan,  *t  db'  amato  abblaa  air,  *b  aar  a  db*  itbtadb  a 
BOB  ttbrta  dbiu  cbalrcadb  lad  oeaaa  fAUb  air,'t  aar  a  db*  itbtadb  a 
tabrta  tUt  dbia  cboiraadb  lad  dttb  a.  Aob  latba  cbraiaaicb  a  Bbraa 
do  aa  k-abblan,  t  cbalr  e  *b  daraa  tobrta  aaa  an  aoa  dwana  do  'a 
pboea,  *t  aa  tabrta  Ala  aaat  a*  ditaBB  dla.  Cbaaaale  e  toitbtaeb  a* 
dolttacbtd;  cbratb  a  ritba;  thblaig  bbU  ga  àr;  't  tbog  iad  air 
bbrda.    Tbag  aa  calbbtian  ilot  a  ga  biadb,  *t  db' fbbg  a  *ai  poea  ga 


1 86  wnr  HiGnLAND  taub. 

h-ard.  Dh*  fboigain  m  tcòlidairMB  am  poeaa  dh'  uùian  dt  "bb* 
ann.  Nur  a  chunnaie  iad  gnr  h-nthlan  a  th'ami  tliMtleli  lad  air  aa 
itheadb.  Dh*  ith  iad  an  ae^Ma  'chiiiraadh  adhalreeaii  ffidk  ofim. 
Chinn  adhiairoean  ffidhorra,  *•  thoiiteh  lad  air  kom  air  a  chdOa  f«a 
an  robh  iad  a'  brath  an  aoiUieach  a  bhriadaadli.  Kara  dinalaan  calbll 
tim  an  •Urnm  Uikinig  e  niot,  •  nur  a  clmnnalo  a  iad  thuirt  c^  **  THnoch 
dhuina  dtf  tba  Uiu  an  d%h  a  dhèanadh  air  mo  dbaoina  nia  ?  *  «  Da^** 
nrt'  Iain,  <*  a  chnir  do  dluoine-aa  cho  m^omball  *a  gtm  raolmdli  iad 
a  db*  fbaicinn  da  bbiodb  ann  am  poca  duina  lam  Mtb  f  Oabliair  Uw 
dbomb,**  iinf  Iain,  *  ma  db*  fbbgas  mi  iad  mnr  a  bha  iad  roimhid  r* 
Gbabb  an  igiobair  eagal,  *u  tboirt  a  gun  d*  tbngadb  a  dlia  an  aaltii- 
eaob  agut  an  lucbd  aig  a*  cbiad  pbort  a  ruigeadb  lad.  Db'  fbo«gaO 
e  'n  to  am  poca,  's  tbug  a  dbaibb  an  taora*  alia,  a  tbuit  aa  b-adhalr^ 
caan  din.  *S  a  lucbd  òir  a'  bb*  air  an  t-aoiibaacli,  agna  *a  aim  a 
fibailaclUtb  a  bba  i  'doL  Mnr  a  rbinig  iad  tbufart  an  caibbtimi  rK  • 
*bbi  'gabbail  cbram  da  *n  t-aoithaacb  *b  da  'n  lucbd,  gun  robb  aiaa 
r^db  is  i,  «  Dean  falgbidinn,**  ur:^*  Iain,  *«  g«a  am  faio  sian  dtomr  a 
ih4M  duinn  ann  an  ocann  baagaa  lìiÌUiaan. 

Db*  fliollili  0  *n  la  *r  na  mlibireacb  a  reio  nan  nbhUm  §màh  a* 
bhaile,  '•  gun  air  acb  aodacb  iracbdta.  Cbaidb  a  aoaa  feadb  a'  bhall% 
*•  Uibinig  a  ma  cboinneamb  tigb  an  r)gb,  *a  cbnnnaio  a  nigÌMaa  an 
righ  *a  a  ceann  a  mach  air  uinneig.  Dh'  iarr  i  punnd  da  na  b-nbblaa 
a  char  luai  a  *b-Ìonntuidh.  Thuirt  eaan  i  db'  fbeacbainn  d^nnir 
a  chòrdadh  iad  ritba  an  toiseach.  Thilg  a  'suaa  ubbal  nrra 
da  *n  t-MÒrsa  'cbuiraadh  ceann  fifidb  urra.  Mur  a  db'  Ìtb  i  "n 
ublial  thbinig  ceann  ffìdb  if  cabair  urra.  Cbuir  an  i^b  flea 
a  mach  nam  faighte  duine  sam  bitb  a  Itfighteadb  a  nighaan  gum 
faigheadh  a  peic  òir  it  peic  airgid,  '•  i  ftìn  r*a  pòeadb.  Bba  i  mnr 
•in  mòran  Ibithean,  '•  gun  duina  'tighinn  a  bba  dèanadb  math  aam 
bitb.  Thkinig  Iain  gus  an  dorusd  leis  an  aodacb  ahracbdia  'g  tarr- 
aidh  a  stigh,  'a  nur  a  chunnaie  iad  a  cboalaa  cba  laigeadb  iad  a 
atigh  e,  ach  bba  brbthair  beag  aidae  a  chunnaie  iad  'ga  chnmail  a 
mach  *s  dh'  innii  a  d'a  athair  e,  *a  thuirt  a  b-athair  ged  a  b*  a  bleidira 
an  loin  a  bhiodh  ann  a  leigeil  a  atlgb.  Cbaidb  Dot  aa  a  db^b  a 
'thilleadh,  agua  thill  a.  Thuirt  an  T^gh  ria  an  l^igbaaadb  a  "nigfaean, 
'a  thuirt  a  gum  feucbadh  a  ria.  Thug  iad  auaa  e  do  'n  t-aeombar  fit 
an  robb  i.  Shuidh  e,  'a  thug  a  *mach  leobliar  a  a  phòca  a  gun  nl  aam 
bitb  ann,  a'  leigeil  air  gun  robh  a  'ga  'leubhadb.  "  An  do  mbaall 
thuaa,"  ura*  aaan,  **  fideag  o-ahaighdear  boohd,  nur  a  ahainneadb  a  i 
'bheireadh  a  gu  meadhon  a  rèiaeamaid.**  **  Mheall,"  ura'  iae.  **  liar  a' 
bheil  ain  air  faotainn,"  ura*  eaan,  "cha  "n  urrainn  miae  do  laigheaa.** 
**  Tha,'*  ura'  iae.    Thug  iad  a'  ionnauidh  an  f  hideag.    Nur  a  fhnair  a 


URSOBUL.  187 

*ii  fbìdetff  tbog  6  dhl  piopt  at  dh'  nbhtl/t  Uiirit  fear  d«  da  eabahr  dhi 
"  Ch«  *B  amino  mi,**  an*  anOf "  taUlkUi  ft  dhèaiiftdli  ah  dingli,  aeh 
thig  mi  *m  mklrrach.* 

Dh'  fbolbh  6  *ii  sin  a  mftch,  *•  tbachftir  ft  theant  cbompanaidi  ftir, 
*•  6  cheaird  ft  bh*  aca  *bhl  boaeadh  aoil,  *8  a*  tarrninn  nisga  do 
chlachairean.  Dh'  aithnich  eean  iadaan,  ach  cfaa  dT  aithnicfa  iadran 
•■an.  Cha  do  leig  a  rnd  nun  blth  air,  ach  thng  a  dhaibh  dcich  taad* 
ain,  *•  thnirt  a  rin, "  òlaibh  deoch  tlhinta  an  fhir  a  thug  dhnibh  a.** 

Dbealaich  a  'n  tin  ria,  '•  thÌU  a  gns  an  t-aoithaach.  An  la  'r  oa 
mhkireach  chaidh  a  far  an  robh  nighean  an  rigli.  Thug  a  mach  an 
leabliar,  *•  thnirt  a  ritha,  *'  An  do  mheall  thoiia  aporan  o  iliaiglidaar 
bocbd  a  bhiodh  Ihn  òir  it  airgid  h-nila  h-aair  a  dh'  fhoagaUf  a7* 
"  HhaaU,"  art'  ise.  *«  Mar  a*  bheil  tin  air  fÌMtafain,**  nrs'  aaan, "  cha  'ii 
orrainn  miae  do  leigbaaa.**  **  Tha,"  nra*  iw,  "  '•  thog  iad  dlia  'an 
aporan.  Kar  a  fhuair  a  a  thog  a  dhi  pkaa  do  In  nbhal,  *s  tholt 
cabar  aOa  dhi.  Cha  *n  orrainn  mi  toillidh  à  dhèanadh  an  diogh,* 
on*  aaan,  "  ach  thig  mi  'n  ath  oidheha.** 

Chaidh  a  fttf  an  robh  'bhe ana  cliompanaich,  *§  thog  a  dhaibh  daieh 
taadaio  aila,  *•  thobt  a  ria  daoch  tlhinta  an  fhir  a  thog  dhaibh  a  oL 
Thin  a  *n  lin  than  an  t^aoithich.  Thnirt  an  caibhtinn  ria  an  robh  a 
'dol  a  ghabhail  chram  do  *n  t-aoithaach  a  nia.  Thnirt  aaan,  "Glaa 
fUghidinn  go  oeann  latha  na  dlia  gns  am  faic  sinn  d^or  a  thèid 
doinn.**  Thill  a  an  ath  oidheha  a  dh*  fhaidnn  nighean  an  rìgli. 
Thog  a  taiToinn  air  a  Ifabhar  mar  a  b*  hbhaiat  dha.  "  An  do  mhaafl 
thota,**  on*  etan,  "  tathailt  0  ihaighdear  bochd  a  bhiodh  Ikn  da  na 
h-oila  aabraa  Udh  a'  h-uila  h-oair  a  dh*  fhongailt  i?  **  "Mheall,** 
ors*  iae.  <*  Mar  a'  bh«il  an  tnthailt  tin  air  fhotainn  cha  *n  orrainn 
mise  do  laigheaa,"  art*  aaan.  *■  Tha,**  ora*  iae.  Thog  iad  dha  i.  Cho 
loath  *•  a  fhoair  etan  1  thag  a  obhal  ahlhn  dhi,  *•  nor  a  dh*  ith  i  i  bha 
i  mar  a  bha  i  roimhid.  Fhoair  a  *n  sin  peic  òir  is  pdc  airgid,  *a 
thoirt  iad  ris  gom  Caigbaadh  a  i  ffin  ri  *pòaadh.  "  Thig  mi  *m  màir- 
aacli,**  ors*  esan. 

Qhabh  a  rathad  a  shaana  chompanach  air  an  t-aiubhai  ao  coid- 
eachd  ;  thog  e  daich  taadain  daibh ;  *s  thoirt  a  rio  daoch  slhinta  an 
fhir  a  thog  dhaibh  a  61.  Urs*  iadsan.  "  Bo  mhail  kinn  floa  a  bhi 
againn  co  an  caraid  caoimhnail  a  tha  *toirt  duirai  a*  Mthid  ao  a'  h-oila 
h-oidhcbe  ?  **  "  Am  bheil  coimho*  agaibh,"  ora*  aaan,  **  nor  a  bha  sinn 
*na  Idthid  so  do  dh*  kite,  's  a  gheall  ain  do  na  ^  nigheanan  gon 
rachamaid  ann  bliadhoa  o  *n  am  sin  a  rithiad  7  **  Dh*  aithnich  lad  an 
sin  a.  "  Chaidh  an  hina  sin  saschad  o  chioon  fsda,"  ora'  iadsan. 
•«Cha  daachaidli,**  on*  eaan;  <'*b  i  an  ath  oidheha  an  oidhche.** 
Thill  a  fisr  an  robh  an  caibhtinn,  *§  thoiit  a  ria  gom  fiiodadh  a  Ctfin  *è 


1 88  WEST  HIGHLAND  TALBk 

a  Inehd  a  bhi  folUh,  ntch  Uodb  etin  a'  ew  dragh  ab,  gm  rolih  as 
leòiraig*. 

An  U  *r  na  mhàiroaeh  chaidh  %  tcaeliad  tigh  an  Agh^  a  thaiif 
nighMD  an  righ  rit,  **  Am  bheQ  thu  dol  am*  pliòtadh  an  dia«li  f* 
"Cha  V  eil  oa  'màiraacb,**  on'  Man.  ThOl  a  fiur  an  robh  cbcb,  la 
thòitieh  6  air  cur  an  òrdogh  air  ton  dol  far  an  do  ghoall  lad. 
Tliag  e  *n  tporan  do*n  ttfirdMan.  an  tuUiaUtdo  'n  chorporal,  *tgh]dkdli 
a  ftfin  an  fbVdeag.  Cheannaich  a  tri  aich^  '•  dli*  fbolbh  Sad  air 
mliarcaclid  ann  an  oabbaig  nUibir  do,*n  aita.an  do  gbaall  lad  dol.  Nor 
a  ràinig  iad  an  tigb  rag  iad  air  a  daraoibli,  *•  tbainig  i  lao  aira'chiad 
•pWnadh.  Tliainig  na  tri  nigheanan  ga  geal,  gbirMcbdadk  fbr  an 
robh  iad,  *•  blia  iad  saor  o  na  geaaan.  Thag  a*  b-uila  fear  dhia  kb 
a  the  r^*s  tbainig  iad  air  an  ait  do  BhailccUath,  '•  phòa  lad. 

Qot  tbit  tale  from  a  yonng  lad  of  the  name  of  Jamea  M*Laoli> 
lin,  who  is  at  present  in  my  own  employment.  I  have  bad  the 
preceding  tale  from  him  alao.  He  baa  bad  them  from  an  old 
woman  that  Hvet  somewhere  up  the  way  of  Portaskaigt  wbO|  ha 
says,  can  repeat  several  more,  and  to  whom  1  intend  immediatalj 
to  apply. 

May  27,  I860. — After  speaking  to  the  old  woman  MaoKerrol, 
I  find  that,  from  age  and  loss  of  memory,  she  is  unable  now  to 
tell  any  of  the  tales  she  was  wont  to  repeat. 

HnoTon  MaoLbav. 

Another  version  of  this  has  been  sent  by  Mr.  Osgood  Mao- 
kenxie  from  Gairloch.  It  was  recited  by  Haoron  Mackbviib  at 
Dibaig,  who  learned  it  some  years  ago  from  KamncTH  Mao- 
KVKsia  at  Dibaig;  and  it  was  written  by  AHom  MaoRab  at 
Dibaig.    This  Dibaig  version  tells  how — 

1 .  There  was  a  soldier,  by  name  Coinneacb  Bnidbe,  Kenneth 
the  Yellow,  in  the  army  of  old,  and  he  belonged  to  Alba.  He  de- 
serted, and  his  master  sent  a  "  oorpaileir'*  after  him  ;  bnt  the 
corporal  deserted  too ;  and  so  did  a  third.  They  went  on  till 
they  reached  the  '*  yearly  wood,'*  in  America.  After  a  time, 
they  saw  on  a  certain  night,  a  light  which  led  them  to  a  large 
house  ;  they  fonnd  meat  and  drink,  and  all  that  they  could  desire. 
They  saw  no  one  for  a  year  and  a  day,  except  three  maidens,  who 


THB  THBn  80LDISR8.  1 89 

never  spoke,  bat  called  in  at  odd  timea ;  and  at  they  did  not 
apeak,  the  ioldien  were  rilent. 

At  the  end  of  the  jear  the  maidena  ipoke,  and  praiaed  them 
for  their  poKteneai,  ezplabed  that  thej  were  nnder  epells,  and 
for  their  Idndnesa,  gave  to  the  first  a  cop  that  would  be  erer  foil, 
and  a  lamp  of  light ;  to  the  second,  a  table-coTer  on  which  meat 
was  CTer ;  and  to  the  third,  a  bed  in  which  there  would  ever  be 
rest  for  them  at  an j  time  thej  chose ;  and  besides,  the  "  tiaoh- 
LJUCBAH  '*  wonld  make  any  one  who  had  them  get  anything  he 
wished.  They  reached  a  certain  king,  whose  only  daughter  pre- 
tended to  be  fond  of  Kenneth  the  Yellow,  and  wheedled  him  till 
he  gare  her  the  tiaddlaiobav,  when  she  ordered  him  to  be  put 
in  an  island  in  the  ocean.  When  there  alone  he  grew  hungry, 
and  ate  **abhlan,**  and  a  wood  like  thatch  grew  through  his 
head,  and  there  remained  till  he  ate  *'  abelah**  of  another  kind, 
when  the  wood  Tanished.  He  got  off  in  a  ship  with  **  Abhlah" 
of  each  sort,  and  reached  the  big  town  of  the  king  where  he  had 
been  before,  where  he  set  up  a  booth.  On  a  certain  day  a  fair  lad 
came  in  to  sell  abelav,  and  through  him  the  other  kind  were  sold 
to  the  king^s  daughter,  and  a  wood  grew  on  her  head.  Kenneth 
the  Yellow  got  back  the  tiadhlaiobab,  and  found  his  two  com- 
panions  aous  bba  iad  uilb  tuillbaoh  abb  am  mbas  aodb 
soiBBflBAcnADR  ous  A  OBBiooH.  And  tboy  were  all  alter  in  wor- 
ahip  and  prosperonsness  till  the  end. 

Tliis  is  manifestly  the  same  story  shortened,  and  made  rea- 
aonable.    It  is  very  well  written,  and  spelt  aooording  to  mle. 

3.  I  have  another  Tersion  of  this  toM  by  Hector  Boyd,  fisher- 
man. Castle  Bay,  Barra,  who  says  he  learned  it  from  John  Mac- 
Neill,  who  has  lefl  the  island ;  and  from  NeiU  MacKinnon, 
Boagfa  Lias.  In  this  the  three  soldiers  are  English,  Scotch,  and 
Iriah.  The  two  last  desert ;  and  the  first,  a  sergeant,  is  sent 
after  them.  They  persuade  him  to  desert  also,  and  they  come 
to  a  castle.  The  Irishman  acta  the  part  of  John  in  the  Islay  Ter- 
sion;  and  the  first  night  they  eat  and  go  to  sleep,  and  tM 
dresses  when  they  wake.  In  the  mombg  they  get  up  and  put 
OB  their  dresses  ;  and  the  board  was  set  orer  with  meat  and  with 
drink,  and  they  took  their  tbatm  maoaib,  breakfast.    Th^y  went 


1 90  WBBT  HIGHLAND  TAUB. 

to  take  a  wdk  without.  Tba  EngUshman  liad  a  gim,  and  ba 
■aw  three  awaoe  awimming  on  a  loch,  and  ha  began  to  pat  * 
charge  in  hit  gnn.  The  twane  peroeiyed  him,  and  they  cried  to 
him,  and  they  were  tare  he  was  going  to  ahoot  at  them.  Tli^ 
came  on  shore  and  became  three  women.  '*  How  an  tbaaa 
dresses  pleasing  jon  T*  said  they.  **  The  like  will  be  joara  eifoiy 
day  in  the  year,  and  your  meat  as  good  as  you  got ;  but  that  70« 
should  neither  think  or  order  one  of  us  to  be  with  you  in  lying 
down  or  rising  up."  And  so  they  remained  for  a  year  in  tlm 
castle.  One  night  the  Irishman  thought  of  the  swana,  and  in  tlm 
morning  they  had  nothing  but  their  old  dresses. 

They  went  to  the  loch ;  the  swsns  came  on  shore,  beoame 
women,  and  gaye  a  purse  that  would  always  be  full  of  gold  and 
jewels,  to  the  Englishman ;  a  knife  to  the  Scotchman,  and  wben- 
eyer  it  was  opened  he  would  be  whereyer  he  wished ;  and  to  the 
Irishman  a  horn,  and  when  he  blew  in  the  small  end  there  wonld 
be  a  thousand  soldiers  before  him  ;  and  when  he  blew  in  the  big 
end  none  of  them  would  be  seen. 

They  go  to  a  big  town,  and  build  a  house  on  a  green  hill  with 
money  from  the  purse ;  and  when  the  house  was  built,  one  about 
went  to  the  town  to  buy  meat.  The  Irishman  fell  in  love 
with  the  king*8  daughter,  and  was  cheated  out  of  his  msgic  horn ; 
borrowed  the  purse,  and  lost  that ;  and  then,  by  the  help  of  the 
knifo,  transported  himself  and  the  king's  daughter  to  an  island 
which  could  hardly  be  seen  in  the  far  ocean.  And  there  they 
were,  and  there  they  stayed  for  seyenteon  days,  eating  fruita. 
One  day  he  slept  with  his  head  on  her  knee,  and  she  looked  at  her 
hands  and  saw  how  long  the  nails  had  grown ;  so  she  put  her  hand 
in  his  pocket  and  took  out  the  knife  to  pare  them.  **  Oh,"  said  she, 
"  that  I  were  where  the  nails  grew  on  me,"  and  she  waa  in  her 
father's  house.  Then  he  found  red  apples  and  grey  apples ;  and 
no  sooner  had  he  eaten  aome  of  the  red  apples  than  hia  hoad  waa 
down,  and  his  heels  were  up,  from  the  weight  of  the  deer's  horns 
that  grew  on  his  head.  Then  he  bethought  him  that  one  of  tho 
grey  apples  might  heal  him ;  and  he  stretched  himself  out  with 
his  head  downwards,  and  kicked  down  one  of  the  apples  with  hia 
feet,  and  ate  it,  and  the  horns  fell  off  him.  Then  he  made  baa- 
kets,  and  filled  them  with  the  apples ;  climbed  a  tree,  saw  a 
ship,  tore  his  shirt  and  wayed  it  on  a  stick,  and  was  seen. 


TBI  THBn  80LDIKB8.  I9I 

The  skipper  was  under  an  oath  that  he  woald  nerer  leare  a 
man  in  eztremitj.  They  came  on  shore  for  him,  and  were  ter- 
riied  at  his  beaid,  thinking  that  he  was  the  eTil  spirit.  Whenhe 
got  on  hoard,  a  rasor  was  got»  and  (as  the  narrator  said)  suubh- 
AM  ■  he  was  shared.  The  ship  sailed  straight  to  the  king's 
hooae.  The  lady  looked  oni  of  a  window.  He  sold  her  a  red 
apple  for  a  guinea.  She  ate  it,  the  horns  grew,  and  there  were 
not  alÌTe  those  whe  oonld  take  her  from  thai.  Thej  thought  of 
saws,  and  they  sent  for  doctors ;  and  he  came,  and  then  there  is 
a  scene  in  which  he  pretends  to  read  a  divining  hook,  and  tries 
saws  on  the  horns,  and  frightens  the  lady  and  reooTors  the  lost 
gifts.  Then  he  went  to  his  friends,  and  they  went  to  the  swans ; 
and  the  spoils  went  off  them,  and  they  married  them. 

The  story  is  Tory  well  told,  especially  the  last  scene ;  hat  it 
is  too  like  the  Islay  Tersion  to  make  it  worth  translating  at  full 
length. 

4.  I  have  another  story,  from  a  Boss-shire  man,  now  in  Qlas- 
gow,  which  begins  in  the  same  manner,  hnt  the  incidents  are 
very  dilEerent. 

This  story  has  a  oonnterpart  in  German,  Der  Krantesel ;  and 
it  has  a  very  long  pedigree  in  Qrtmm*s  third  Tolome.  It  seems 
to  he  Tory  widely  spread,  and  fery  old,  and  to  belong  to  many 
laagnages ;  many  Torsions  are  giren.  In  one  a  soldier,  one  of  . 
three,  eats  apples  in  a  forest,  and  his  nose  grows  right  throngfa 
the  forest,  and  siity  n>«fos  beyond  it ;  and  the  king's  daughter's 
nose  is  made  to  grow,*^  .taetlr  as  horns  are  made  to  grow  on  the 
princess  in  the  Higfaunds ;  and  she  b  forced  to  giro  np  the 
things  which  she  had  got  frtm  the  soldiers ;  and  which  are  a 
parse,  a  mantle,  and  a  horn  of  magic  power. 

In  another  Torsion,  it  is  a  yoong  hantsman  who  dianges  a 
witch  and  her  dangfater  into  donkeys,  by  gÌTÌng  them  magio  cab- 
bages, which  had  prenoasly  transformed  him. 

The  swans  in  the  third  Torsion  seem  to  belong  to  Sanscrit,  as 
wefl  as  to  Norse  and  other  langnages.  In  "  ComparaiÌTe  Ifytho- 
logy,'*  by  Max  Mnller,  Oxford  Essays,  1856,  a  story  is  gÌTsii 
from  the  Brihmana  of  the  YagnrToda,  in  which  this  passage 
oocnrs — "  Then  he  bewailed  his  Tanished  Ioto  in  bitter  grief;  and 
went  near  Korokshetra.    There  is  a  kka  there  oaDed  Aayatak- 


192  WBBT  HIGHLAND  TALBU 

pUkiha,  fun  of  lotas  flowers ;  and  while  the  king  wtlked  nlong 
its  bonier,  the  ikiries  were  playing  there  in  the  water  in  the 
shape  of  birds ;  and  Unrasi  discoTored  him,  and  said,  '  That  is 
the  man  with  whom  I  dwelt  so  long.'  Then  her  friends  said, '  Lei 
ns  appear  to  him,*  "  etc.,  etc. 

The  rest  of  the  Eastern  story  has  many  Western  oonnterpaita, 
snch  as  "  Peter  Wilkins  and  the  Flying  liadies,'*  and  a  story  whioh 
I  haye  from  Islay.  The  incident  of  birds  which  tarn  out  to  bo 
enchanted  women,  occars  in  a  great  many  other  Qaelic  stories ; 
and  is  in  Mr.  Peter  Buchan*s  '*  Qreeu  Sleeves ''  (see  introdno- 
tion) ;  and,  as  I  am  told,  in  the  Edda. 

Bailiouath  is  Dublin,  and  takes  its  (Helio  name  from  a 
legend.  The  name  should  be  Baile  ath  Cliath,  the  town  of 
Wattle  Ford ;  either  from  wattled  boats,  or  a  bridge  of  hurdles ; 
and  as  it  appears,  there  was  a  weaver,  or  tailor,  residing  at  Ath 
Cliath,  Wattle  Ford,  who  got  his  living  by  making  creels  or 
hurdles,  oluthan,  for  crossing  the  river.  There  was  a  fluent, 
gabby  old  man,  who  was  a  friend  of  his ;  and  from  his  having 
such  a  tongue,  the  maker  of  the  creels  advised  him  to  beoome  a 
beggar,  as  be  was  sure  to  succeed.  He  began,  and  got  plenty  of 
money.  He  wore  a  cap  or  currachd,  and  all  the  coin  he  got  he 
buried  under  a  Rtone,  at  the  end  of  the  wattle  bridge.  The  bridge 
maker  died ;  the  beggar  got  ill  and  kept  his  cap  on,  and  never 
took  it  off;  and  when  he  was  dying  he  asked  his  wife  to  bury 
him  in  it ;  and  he  was  buried  with  his  cap  on.  The  widow's  son 
found  out  about  the  buried  treasure,  and  dug  it  up ;  but  the  beg- 
gar's ghost  so  tormented  the  boy,  that  he  had  to  go  to  the  minis- 
tor,  who  advised  them  to  build  a  bridge  with  the  money ;  so  they 
built  DaociiAiD  ATH  Cliatu,  and  there  it  is  to  this  very  day. 

I  do  not  know  which  of  the  Dublin  bridges  is  meant,  but  the 
story  was  g^t  from  a  woman  at  Kilmeny  in  Islay,  and  this  is  a 
mere  outline  of  it.  It  is  known  as  the  story  of  the  red-haired 
beggar.  Am  Bochd  Ruagh. 

Baileoliath  is  a  groat  place  in  Qaelio  songs. 

The  story  of  the  Three  Soldiers  is  one  of  which  I  remember 
to  have  heard  a  part  in  my  childhood.  I  perfectly  remember  con- 
triving with  a  companion  how  we  would  have  given  the  cruel 
princess  bits  of  different  kinds  of  apples,  mixed  together,  so  as  to 
make  the  boms  grow,  and  fall  off  time  about ;  but  I  cannot  re- 


TBI  THBSI  80IDIIII8. 


»93 


member  who  told  me  the  ttorj.  The  Tertioa  I  have  giveii 
is  the  moet  complete,  but  the  laognage  of  the  Bam  TernoD  it 
better. 

There  are  one  or  two  iocoDnetenciet.  They  travel  on  the 
towel  which  had  the  oommiieariat,  and  do  not  nae  the  looomotiTe 
whiitle  at  all.  Bat  there  are  tonchet  of  nature.  The  maaon'i 
laboorera  thongfat  the  time  had  pasted,  bat  the  ad?entarer  did  not 
find  time  so  kmg;  and  he  alone  remembered  the  day. 


XL 
THE  STORY  OF  THE  WHITE  PET. 

From  Mn.  lIUoTaTbh,  widow  of  the  Uto  mbittar  of  KikUltoo, 

Iilay. 


THERE  was  a  fanner  before  now  who  had  a 
Pet  (sheep),  and  when  Christmas  was  drawing 
near,  he  thought  that  he  would  kill  the  White  Pet  The 
White  Pet  hoard  that,  and  he  thought  he  would  mn 
away  ;  and  that  is  what  he  did. 

He  had  not  gone  far  when  a  bull  met  him.  Said 
the  bull  to  him,  <<  All  hail !  White  Pet^  where  art 
thou  going  r  "  I,"  said  the  White  Pet>  "am  going 
to  seek  my  fortune ;  they  were  going  to  kill  me  for 
Christmas,  and  I  thought  I  had  better  run  away.** 
''It  is  better  for  me,"  said  the  bull,  "to  go  with 
thee,  for  they  were  going  to  do  the  yeiy  same  with  me.** 

"  I  am  willing,**  said  the  White  Pet ;  "  the  laiger 
the  party  the  better  the  fun.** 

They  went  forward  till  they  fell  in  with  a  dog. 

<« All  hail  1  White  Pet,**  said  the  dog.  "All  haQl 
thou  dog.**     "  Where  art  thou  going  T  said  the  dog. 

"  I  am  running  away,  for  I  heard  that  they  were 
threatening  to  kill  me  for  Christmas.** 

"  They  were  going  to  do  the  very  same  to  me,** 
said  the  dog,  "  and  I  will  go  with  you.*'  "  Come, 
then,**  said  the  White  Pet 

They  went  then,  till  a  cat  joined  them.  "  All 
hail !  White  Pet,**  said  the  cat     "  All  hail !  oh  cat** 


THE  nOBT  OF  TBM  WHm  FBI.  I95 

^  Where  art  Uum  going  T  said  the  cat  ''  I  am 
going  to  eeek  my  fortune^"  aaid  the  White  Pet^  *'  be- 
canae  they  were  going  to  kill  me  at  ChriatmaaL** 

^  They  were  talking  about  killing  me  too,**  aaid 
the  eat^  ''and  I  had  better  go  with  yoo." 

'*  Come  on  then,**  aaid  the  White  Pet 

Then  they  went  forward  till  a  coek  met  them. 
«  AU  haO  I  White  Pet,"  aaid  the  oock."  ''AU  hail  to 
thyaelf!  oh  oock,**  aaid  the  White  Pet  ''Where," 
aaid  the  oock,  "art  thoa  goingT  "V  aaid  the 
White  Pet^  "  am  going  (away),  for  they  were  threaten- 
ing my  death  at  Chriatmaa.** 

"They  were  going  to  kill  me  at  the  very  aame 
time,**  aaid  the  oock,  "  and  I  will  go  with  yon." 

"Gome,  then,"  aaid  the  White  Pet 

They  went  forward  till  they  fell  in  with  a  gooee. 
"All  had !  White  Pet,"  aaid  the  gooee.  "  Ail  haU  to 
thyaelf  I  oh  gooee,"  aaid  the  White  Pet  "  Wheie  art 
thoa  going  t"  aaid  the  gooee. 

"I,"  aaid  the  White  Pet,  "am  nmning  away  bo- 
canae  they  were  going  to  kill  me  at  ChriatmaaL" 

"  They  were  going  to  do  that  to  me  too,"  aaid  the 
gooae,  "  and  I  will  go  with  yoo." 

The  party  went  forward  till  the  night  waa  draw- 
ing on  them,  and  they  aaw  a  little  li^t  far  away;  and 
tlmgh  ftroff^  they  were  notlong  getting  therei  When 
they  reached  the  houae,  they  aaid  to  each  other  that 
they  would  look  in  at  the  window  to  aee  who  waa 
in  the  honae,  and  they  aaw  thierea  ooonting  money ; 
and  the  White  Pet  aaid,  "  Let  ereiy  one  of  na  call  hia 
own  call  I  will  call  my  own  call ;  and  lei  the  boll 
call  hia  own  call ;  let  the  dog  call  lua  own  call ;  and 
the  cat  her  own  call ;  and  the  cock  hii  own  call ; 
and  the  gooee  lua  own  calL"  With  that  they  gave 
oni  one  ahoat — Oaiu  I 


196  WWSft  HIQBLAND  TALEB. 

When  the  thieves  heaid  the  shouiiiig  that 
out^  they  thought  the  mischief  was  there ;  and  thej 
fled  out»  and  they  went  to  a  wood  that  was  near  tham. 
When  the  White  Pet  and  hia  company  saw  that  the 
house  was  empty,  they  went  in  and  they  got  the  monej 
that  the  thieves  had  been  counting,  and  they  divided 
it  amongst  themselves ;  and  then  they  thought  that 
they  would  settle  to  rest  Said  the  White  Pel^ 
<'  Where  wUt  thou  sleep  to-night»  oh  bull  f  '<  I  will 
sleep,"  said  the  bull,  '*  behind  the  door  where  I  used  ** 
(to  be).  <<  Where  wilt  thou  sleep  thyself,  White 
Pet  r  ''  I  will  sleep,"  said  the  White  Tei,  <'  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  where  I  used  "  (to  be).  "  Where 
wilt  thou  sleep,  oh  dog  T  said  the  White  Pet  *^  I 
will  sloop  beside  the  fire  where  I  used  '*  (to  ho\  said 
the  dog.  "  Whore  wilt  thou  sleep,  oh  cat  t**  **  I 
will  sleep,*'  said  the  cat,  ''  in  the  candle  press,  where  I 
like  to  be."  "  Where  wilt  thou  sleep,  oh  cock  f"  said 
the  White  Pet  "  I,"  said  the  cock,  '^will  sleep  on  the 
rafters  where  I  used  "  (to  be).  ''  Where  wilt  thou 
sleep,  oh  goose  V*  **  I  will  sleep,"  said  the  goose,  "  on 
the  midden,  where  I  was  accustomed  to  be." 

They  were  not  long  settled  to  rest,  when  one  of 
the  thieves  returned  to  look  in  to  see  if  he  could  per- 
ceive if  any  one  at  all  was  in  the  house.  All  things 
were  still,  and  he  went  on  forward  to  the  candle  press 
for  a  candle,  that  he  might  kindle  to  make  him  a 
light ;  but  when  he  put  his  hand  in  the  box  the  cat 
thrust  her  claws  into  his  hand,  but  he  took  a  candle 
with  him,  and  he  tried  to  light  it  Then  the  dog  got 
up,  and  he  stuck  his  tail  into  a  pot  of  water  that  was 
beside  the  fire ;  he  shook  his  tail  and  put  out  the 
candle.  Then  the  thief  thought  that  the  mischief  was 
in  the  house,  and  he  fled  ;  but  when  he  was  passing 
the  White  Pet,  he  gave  him  a  blow ;  before  he  got 


THl  nOBT  OF  THE  WHm  FBI.  I97 

past  the  bally  he  gave  him  a  kick ;  and  the  cock  be- 
gan to  crow  ;  and  when  he  went  out^  the  goose  began 
to  belabour  him  with  his  wings  about  the  shanka 

He  went  to  the  wood  where  his  comrades  were,  as 
fast  as  was  in  his  legs.  They  asked  him  how  it  had 
gone  with  him.  **  It  went^"  said  he,  ''  but  middling ; 
when  I  went  to  the  candle  press,  there  was  a  man  in 
it  who  thrust  ten  knives  into  my  hand  ;  and  when  I 
went  to  the  fireside  to  light  the  candle,  there  was  a 
big  black  man  lying  there,  who  was  sprinkling  water 
on  it  to  put  it  out ;  and  when  I  tried  to  go  out^  there 
was  a  big  man  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  who  gave  me 
a  shoTs;  and  another  man  behind  the  door  who  pushed 
me  out ;  and  there  was  a  little  brat  on  the  loft  calling 

out   CuiB-A-mDES-AN-SHAW-AT-S-FONI-MI-HATN-DA Send 

him  up  here  and  1*11  do  for  him ;  and  there  was  a 
Gbxb-as-ioh-b^  shoemaker,  out  on  the  midden,  be- 
labouring me  about  the  shanks  with  his  apron.** 

When  the  thieves  heard  that^  they  did  not  return 
to  seek  their  lot  of  money ;  and  the  White  Pet  and 
his  comrades  got  it  to  themselves ;  and  it  kept  them 
peaceably  as  long  as  they  lived. 


80BUUL0HD  ▲  PHSATÀ  BHAIK. 

Bba  Taathanach  ann  rohnhe  to  aig  an  robh  Paalabàa;  agvsVi 
■air  a  bha  an  Nollaig  a*  taaanadh  air  amtialnUch  •  f«  "marbbabh  • 
*iii  Paata  bka.  Cliiaala  am  Pa«U  baa  tin  agna  tmiiaiiitleli  •  gui 
t«lehadh«,acM*aaslttarimit.  ChadaaèhaldhallMla*n«air  athadi. 
kir  Tarbh  air.  Thubliairt  *ii  tarbh  ria, "  FbilU  dhultsa  a*  pbaaU  bbUo ; 
e  lU  am  bhaO  tboMi  a*  dol  r  **  «Tbaml,*an*  am  paatAbam^a'falbb 
a  db*  iarridb  an  fliorUin,  bba  lad  a*  dol  a  m*  mbarbbadh  a  db' lonnanidb 
na  Nollaig  agM  amnainticb  mi  gum  b*  fbflbrr  domb  tticbMdb.*  «8* 
ftbrrdommbaaart**nTarbb  Calbb  laat:  oir  bhaiad  a*doladbiaiiadba 
Idtbid  tila  ormaA.**  "  Tba  mi  toileaeb,**  an' *m  Poatabàn;  roar  ia  mo 
a*  cbuidtadid  'aann  ia  fbebrr  *b  Um-aidhir.**  Gbabb  iad  air  *n  agbaidb 
giu  aa  do  Umcbuir  Cb  om.    «  FbilU  dbaH  a  PbrnUa  bbbia,"  tn* 'a 


19B  WlCar  HIGHLAND  TAU& 

On,  "Fame  dhnU  fhtf*  'cboin.**  « CUte  'm  bMl  tlni  a'  Mf* 
art*  m  Co.  ''Tba  mi  aig  tdcliaadh  bho  'a  a  ^oala  »i  gm 
robh  iad  a'  brath  mo  nbarbhabh  air  too  na  NoHaig."  Blia  iad  a' 
dol  a  dhianadh  a  lalUiid  cheiidiia  ormaa,**  an'  an  Co,  "agw  filhhiVlh 
mi  leibh.*  **  Thig,"  mata  an*  am  pcata  l>ào  f  Dh*  fhalbh  iad  aa  ria  gaa 
andoohomlklaiciiCatiad?  «  FaÌlU  dhoit  a  phaaU  bbàia  anfa  eat. 
FkilU  dliait  fli^  a  Chait**  «  Caita  am  blieU  tha  a'  dd?"  an*  aa  Cbft. 
"  Tlia  mi  a'  dol  a  dli*  iarridh  an  fborUin,**  an'  am  PmU  Baa»  'a 
ehiooB  ga*n  robh  iad  a*  dol  am'  mliarbhadh  air  'a  KoHaig.**  "Bha 
iad  aig  iomradli  air  miaa  mliarbbadli  oaidaaehd,'*  an  a  Cal|  "agaa 
'•  fdarr  dliommli  falbli  laibli,  Tbugainn  mata  ?  "  an'  *m  paata  baa. 
Ghabli  iad  an  tin  air  an  aghaidh  gut  aa  do  choinnkli  OoUaadi  lad. 
••  Fkilta  dhoit  a  pheaU  bhiin,"  art*  an  Coilaach,  «  FàUta  dhuU  fh^."* 
an'  am  PeaU  Bkn.  «*  Caite,"  an*  an  Coileach,  *'am  bball  tha  a 
dol?"  "Tha  mi,"  an*  am  peata  ban,  •*a*  fklbh'  o  *)&  a  bba  iad  a 
mòidbeadh  mo  mharbabh  aig  an  Kollaig.**  "  Bha  iad  a'  dol  am' 
mbarbltabh-ta  aig  an  am  cheudna,"  an'  aa  CoUaacfa,  "  agna  thaid 
mi  leibh."  •*T)iig  mata,"  an'  am  PiaU  Dàa.  Ghabh  iad  air  aa 
ai;baidh  gni  an  do  thachair  giadh  orra.  **  Fkilta  dhnit  a  pbcata 
bhkin,**  an'  an  gtedh.  "  Fkilte  dhoit  fh^  a  gheoidh,*  an*  am  PMOa 
Bkn.  •<CaiU  am  bheil  thu  a  dol?"  an'  an  gkadh.  "Tha  Bli8^'* 
an'  am  peata  ban,  **  a'  teichadh,  a  chionn  ga  'n  robh  iad  a  dol  am* 
mharbbadh  aig  an  Nollaig."  "  Bha  iad  a  dol  a'  dhèanadh  tin  ormaa 
cuidoacbd/'  an*  an  Gèadh,  «  agut  falbhaidh  mi  leibh.**  Ghabh  a* 
cliaideacbd  air  an  agbaidb  gut  an  robli  an  oidlicha  *taannadh  orra^ 
agni  Fchunnaic  iad  aolui  beag  fada  bhoatha  •  ge  b*  fbada  bhnatha  cha 
bh*  fliada  'ga  ruiglieachd.  An  oair  a  rkinig  iad  an  tlgh,  ihubhairt 
iad  ri  'cbeile  gun  ambairceadh  iad  a  stigb  air  an  uinnaag  a  dh' 
fbaicinn  co  a  bha  anna  an  tigh;  agus  chnnnaio  iad  meairlich  a'cunn- 
taa  airgid;  af;ns  thubhairt  am  Peata  Bkn.  *'Glaoidhidh  na  nila 
aon  aguinn  a  ghlaodh  f^in ;  glaiodhidh  miae  mo  glilaoidh  fain ;  agua 
glaoidhidh  an  Tarbh  a  ghUodlt  fein ;  glaoidliidh  an  CU  a  ghlaodh 
fein ;  agus  an  Cat  a  glaodh  fein ;  ai^  an  Coileach  a  ghlaodh  feia ; 
agua  an  gèadh  a  ghlaodh  fein.**  Leia  ain  thug  iad  aon  ghkir  aada. 
An  uair  a  chnala  na  meairlicli  a'  ghkir  a  bha  muidh  fhaoil  iad  gnn 
robh  an  donaa  ann,  agua  theich  iad  amach,  agua  dh*  falbh  iad  do 
choilla  a  blia  dlUth  daibh.  An  uair  a  chunnaic  am  Paata  Bkn  agus 
a  chuideadid  gun  robh  n  Ugh  (klanili  'cliaidli  iud  a  stigb,  agus  fhuair 
iad  an  t-airgid  a  bha  aig  na  meairlieh  *ga  chunntaa,  agus  rolnn  iad 
catorra  fein  e.  An  sbi  amusintich  iad  gun  gabhadh  iad  mu  thkmh. 
Thubhairt  am  PeaU  Bkn, "  Calte  an  caidil  thua'  an  nochd  a  Thnirbh." 
*'  Caidlidh  miae,"  aia'  au  tarbh,  '*  cUl  an  doruia  far  an  àbhaiat  dommh." 


SaiULAOHD  A  PHKATA  BHAIH.         I99 

••Gaitt  an  caidll  tha  MaaphMtabhyB?**  «  Caidlidh  miia,'' an* 
am  Peata  Ban  am  maadhaa  an  hlair  far  an  kbhaiat  domh.**  "Galta 
aa  eaidUthna'achobir  art'amPtateBkii.  «  Caftdlldh  miaa  taoth 
an  teÌM  far  an  kbhaist  àommhf**  an*  an  Cb, «  Gaita  an  caidQ  UumP 
aeliaitr  "Caidlidhmb*,**  anf  aiiCat,<'aanampfeaafiiaB  Gofam- 
laaa  far  an  toU  laam  a  bUth.**  *«CaiU  ancaidU  tho^acholUcii?'' 
an*  am  FtoaU  Ban.  •«CoidUdh  miM,**  art'aa  CoUaach,«'air  anapkrr 
far  an  bbhairt  domh.**  "Galta  anCakUl  Uiaaagfaebidhr  "Caidlidh 
miM^**  an*  an  i^èadh  air  an  dhnaa  far  an  robh  mi  eleacfata  ri  bhith.** 
Clia  robh  iad  fiMla  air  gabhail  mn  tluunb  an  nair  a  thin  fear  do  na 
meairlich  a  dh*  aonhare  a  iCiffa  feoeh  am  mbicfaeadh  a  an  robh  aonaar 
bitb 'lan  tigh.  Bha  na  nila  ■àmhaeh  agm  dhaallnith  a  air  aghaidhgn 
preaas  nan  ooinnlean  airton  eoinnaal  a  laMulh  e  dliaanadli  aolaii  da, 
ach  an  oair  a  choir  a  Ihmh  *aa  bbocM  ahhbh  *n  eat  biaan  na  laimh, 
aehthogalaiai^cboinnaalafoadh'fhtneherilaiadh.  An  tin  dh' 
tirieh  an  eh  agm  choir  a  aarball  ana  am  pelt  oiaga  bha  aig  taobh  aa 
tdne ;  dirath  a  earball  agw  choir  a  at  a  choinnoaL  SliaoUamMaaIr* 
leach  aa  tin  go  robh  an  doons  *ian  tigh  agoa  tlieleh  a ;  ach  an  nair 
a bhaa  dol  teachad  air  a*  pheatabhhn  thog  a  boilla dha;  mon d*fhoar 
a  aeadiad  air  an  tarbh  thog  a  breab  dlia ;  agoa  thòiaich  aa  ooilaaeh 
air  glaoidhich ;  agoa  aa  oair  a  chaidh  a  niach  thbiaieh  aa  gèadh  air  a 
gliraadadh  la  *agiathan  mo  aa  loirgneaa.  Gbaidh  a  don  ClioiQidh  far 
aa  robh  a  cliompaaich  00  loath  *sa  bha  *Ba  cliaaaB  dh*  fliabraieh  iad 
dhetheU  mar  chaidh  dha.  *•  Cha  deachaidh,"  art*  etaa, «  ach  maadh- 
oaach  aa  oair  a  diaidh  mi  go  pieaae  aaa  enfaakan  bha  fear  aaa  a 
ahhth  deich  tgaanaa  aaa  a'  m*  laimh,  agoi  aa  oair  a  cliaidh  mi  gm 
taobh  aa  teiaa  a  Ueadh  aa  ooiaaaal  blia  fear  mor,  dobh  Via  loidha  aaa 
a  bha  ipreadadh  oiaga  orra  *ga  cuir  •■»  agoi  aa  aair  a  thog  mi  Ihah 
air  do^amach  blia  fear  omt  am  meadliaa  aa  orlair  a  thog  otag  domh, 
agoi  fear  ail*  aig  chl  an  doroia  a  phot  aaiach  mi,  agoi  bha  ablaeh 
beag  air  aa  fbaradh  aig  glaoldliich  amacli, "  eoir  on  mm  on  aa  a  '« 
/ogkmaidk  wdfUim  dkn  agm  bha  Griataiek  aoMch  air  aa  dhoaa  'gam 
gliraadadh  mo  aa  caaaa  le  apraa.  A  aoair  a  choal  aa  meairlich  tan 
elia  do  phiU  iad  a  dh*  iarridh  an  cold  airgid,  agoa  t-fhoair  am  paata 
bha  agoa  a  diompanaieh  dliaibh  feia  a,  agoa  ehom  e  aoeair  iad  am 
fimdh  *ea  bha  iad  beo. 

Mn.  MaoTa?iih  got  thia  etorj  from  a  yoong  girl  in  hor 
aerrioe,  No?ember  1859,  who  learoed  it  in  Oi,  a  dietriot  of 
lalaj,  laat  jaar,  whea  aha  waa  omplojed  in  herding  oattla. 

It  ia  a  Teraion  of  the  aame  tale  aa  Orimm*i  *'  Bromer  Btadt 
Moaikaaten/*  which  appaara  to  baTo  booa  long  knowa  la  G«r. 
many  ia  Tarioaa  ihapaa. 


200  WB9T  HIGHLAND  TALB. 

The  orowing  of  tbe  ooek  ii  imitated  in  GmBo  tad  ia  Gkr- 
mAn.  The  Gaelic  ia  oloaer.  '*Bringt  mir  den  Bcbelm  her**  ia 
Doi  ao  cloee  to  '*  kikeriki  *'  aa  the  Qaelio  worda— which  I  luiTa 
tried  to  apell  phonetically — are  to  the  note  of  a  cock.  Thara  ia 
a  bull  in  the  Qaelic  tale,  initead  of  an  aw ;  and  a  aheap  and  a 
gooae,  in  addition  to  the  dog,  cat,  and  oock,  which  are  ooamon 
to  both.  There  are  six  oreatnrea  in  the  one  tale,  oommonl/ 
fonnd  abont  the  Highland  cottage,  which  ia  well  deacribed ;  fimr 
in  the  other,  common  about  German  cottagea.  My  own  opinion 
ia,  that  the  tale  ia  common  to  both  laugnagea  and  old,  b«t  it 
might  haTO  been  borrowed  from  a  book  ao  well  known  in  Ba|^ 
land  aa  Grimm *•  Storiea  are.  It  in  worth  remark,  that  the  dog 
and  the  cat  were  to  die  at  Chriitmaa,  aa  well  aa  the  iheep  and 
bull,  who  might  reaaonably  fear  to  be  eaten  anywhere,  and  who 
bare  been  laorifioed  cTerywhere;  the  gooae,  who  ia  alwaya  a 
Cbriitmaa  diih  in  the  Higblanda ;  and  the  cock,  who  ahonid  did 
laat  of  hii  family,  becauae  the  toughest.  The  dug  waa  onoa 
■aorifioed  to  Hecate  on  the  80th  of  every  month ;  and  there  waa 
a  dog  dÌTÌnity  in  Egypt.  Cate  drew  the  car  of  Freya,  a  Mono 
divinity ;  they  were  the  companions  of  Scotoh  witchea,  and  did 
wondrous  feate  in  the  Highlands.  See  "  Grant  Stewart'a  High- 
land Superstitions.  To  roast  a  cat  alive  on  a  spit  was  a  method 
of  raising  the  fiend  and  gaining  treasure,  tried,  aa  it  is  asserted, 
not  very  long  ago.  I  myself  remember  to  have  beard,  with  horror, 
of  a  cruel  boy,  who  roasted  bis  mother's  cat  in  an  iron  pot  on  a 
Sunday,  while  the  rest  were  at  church,  though  it  waa  not  aaid  why 
he  did  it.  A  cock  has  been  a  sacrifice  and  sacred  amongst  man/ 
nations ;  for  insUnce,  a  cock  and  a  ram*s  head  were  emblema  of 
.ASsculapius.  Tbe  crowing  of  a  cock  is  a  terror  to  all  super- 
natural, unholy  beings,  according  to  popular  mythology  every- 
where. When  the  mother,  in  these  stories,  sends  her  children 
into  the  world  to  seek  their  fortune,  she  bakes  a  cake,  and  killa  a 
cock.  A  fowl,  as  I  am  informed  by  a  minister  in  one  of  the 
Orkneys,  is  still,  or  was  lately,  buried  alive  by  nursea  aa  a  euro 
for  certain  childish  ailmente.  In  short,  the  dog,  the  cat,  and  the 
cock  may  possibly  have  had  good  reason  to  fear  death  at  a  reli- 
gious festival,  if  this  part  of  their  history  came  from  the  ESaat 
with  the  Celts.  The  goose  also  has  been  sacred  time  out  of 
mind.  Bernacle  geese  are  supposed  to  be  hatched  from  a  sea- 
shell.    The  goose  was  the  great  cackler  who  laid  tbe  egg  of  the 


THB  nOBT  OF  THB  WHIIB  FBI.  lOI 

world,  ftooordÌDg  to  EgrptUii  ÌDterìpdou  oo  eoffiai.  He  wm 
Uw  emblem  of  8eb ;  he  ie  lecred  el  the  preeeat  dey  in  Oejhm. 
He  wei  eecred  in  Greece  end  et  Borne ;  tad  the  Britoni  wooM 
not  eel  hit  lleeh  in  the  deje  of  Cmst.  Perhape  the  coetom  of 
eating  a  gooee  at  Chrietmaa,  which,  to  the  beet  of  mj  knowledge, 
ii  peculiar  to  the  Scotch  Highlande,  maj  be  a  cnatom  begun  bj 
the  firet  British  Chrittiani  to  mark  their  oonvenion,  and  carried 
on  ever  dnce.  Mach  will  bo  foond  on  thia  snlyect  in  **  Bawlin- 
eon'e  Herodotna,"  p.  1Ì3,  etc. ;  in  "  Mills  and  Wilson's  History 
of  British  India  ;'*  and  in  books  on  Gejrlon.  At  all  CTents,  this 
Gaelic  storj  is  well  known  in  Islaj,  for  MacLean  writee  that  he 
has  often  heard  it,  and  all  the  creatures  mentioned  in  it  have  had 
to  do  with  mythology  at  some  period  somewhere. 

I  suspect  thai  it  is  one  of  the  class  given  in  **  Contes  et  Apo- 
logues  Indiens*'  (Paris,  1860),  a  class  which  includes  .such  well 
known  stories  as  *'  The  OcoM  wiik  tke  goUem  Bgffi"  as  a  man 
who  cut  down  a  tree  to  get  at  the  fruit  (No.  4b)  i  "The  Bdiif 
and  tke  Mmbere*'  as  a  quarrel  between  the  head  and  tail  of  a 
serpent  (No.  40X  *  story  which  somewhat  reeemUes  that  which 
M  quoted  in  the  introduction,  as  "  MacLeod'e  Fool,''  **  Le  Sage 
el  le  Fou''  (No.  18) ;  "The  two  Geese  that  carried  a  Torlotse" 
(No.  14) ;  *«  Le  Jeune  Brimane  qui  c*  eel  saH  le  Doight "  (No.  64), 
which  is  a  schoolboy  story  in  Scotland  in  another  shape ;  "  The 
Ass  in  the  Iion*s  Skin**  (No.  69) ;  **  Lee  Ohoees  impossibles  el  lea 
Beliques  du  Bouddha'*  (No.  tlO),  which  has  a  parallel  in  Gaelie, 
in  broad  Scotch,  and  in  Norse.  Hie  GNmBc  poet  dcecribea  im- 
possibilities,  such  as  a  shell-llsh  bringing  heather  from  the  hill, 
and  the  climax  is  a  certain  great  laird  dreesed  in  homespun. 
Hie  Scotch  rhyme  came  to  me  from  a  Httle  boy  of  five  years  old, 
and  is  called  '*  The  Mantle  Joe.**  It  begins  **  T  was  on  a  Mon- 
day Momin'  when  the  CJat  crew  Day  :**  There  are  **  Twenty-four 
Weavers  riding  on  a  Paddock ;"  "  A  Hare  and  a  Haddie  radn' 
owre  the  Lea,'*  and  such  like ;  and  it  ends,  '*  Free  Beginning  to 
the  End  it's  a*  big  Lees.**  Hie  Norse  song  was  written  out  for 
me  by  an  officer  on  board  a  steamer,  and  includes  *'  Two  Squirrels 
laming  a  Bear,"  and  other  such  events;  and  the  Sanscrit, 
which  Chinese  and  French  savants  have  translated,  namee 
similar  absurd  events  which  might  sooner  happen  than  the  dia. 
covery  of  the  reliques  of  Buddha.  In  short,  European  stories  are  to 
be  traced  in  the  east,  and  this  White  Pel  may  be  one  of  lbs  kind. 


XII. 
THE  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SKIES. 

From  James  MacLauobkn,  Mnrant,  Itkj. 

npHERE  was  there  before  now  a  fanner,  and  he  had 
-^  a  leaah  of  daughters,  and  mnch  catUe  and  sheepi 
He  went  on  a  day  to  see  them,  and  none  of  them  were 
to  be  found ;  and  he  took  the  length  of  the  day  to 
search  for  them.  Ho  saw,  in  the  lateness^  coming 
home,  a  little  doggy  running  about  a  park. 

The  doggy  came  where  he  was — "  What  wilt  thou 
give  me,"  said  he,  "  if  I  get  thy  lot  of  cattle  and  sheep 
for  thee  f  "  I  don't  know  myself,  thou  ugly  thing  ; 
what  wilt  thou  be  asking,  and  I  will  give  it  to  thee  of 
anything  I  have  Y*  "  Wilt  thou  give  me,"  said  the 
doggy,  "  thy  big  daughter  to  marry  V*  "  I  will  give 
her  to  thee,"  said  he,  *'  if  she  will  t^e  thee  herselfl" 

They  went  home,  himself  and  the  doggy.  Her 
father  said  to  tlie  eldest  daughter,  '*  Would  she  take 
him  f  *  and  she  said  she  would  not  He  said  to  the 
second  one,  "  Would  she  marry  him  f  and  she  said, 
*'  she  would  not  marry  liim,  though  the  cattle  should  not 
be  got  for  ever."  He  said  to  the  youngest  one,  "  Would 
she  marry  him  V*  and  she  said,  "  tliat  slio  would  many 
him."  Tlioy  married,  and  her  sisters  were  mocking 
her  because  she  had  married  him. 

He  took  her  with  liim  home  to  his  own  place. 


Tfll  DAUOHTBB  OF  THB  8KIE8.  2O3 

When  he  came  to  hÌB  own  dwelling-place,  he  grew  into 
a  aplendid  man.  They  were  together  a  great  time,  and 
she  said  she  had  better  go  see  her  father.  He  said  to 
her  to  take  care  that  she  should  not  stay  till  she  should 
have  children,  for  then  she  expected  one.  She  said 
she  would  not  stay.  He  gave  her  a  stood,  and  he  told 
her  as  soon  as  she  reached  the  house,  to  take  the  bridle 
from  her  head  and  let  her  away;  and  when  she  wished 
to  come  home,  that  she  had  but  to  shake  the  bridle, 
and  that  the  steed  would  come,  and  that  she  would  put 
her  head  into  it 

She  did  as  he  asked  her ;  she  was  not  long  at  her 
father's  house  when  she  fell  ill,  and  a  child  was  bom. 
That  night  men  were  together  at  the  fire  to  watch. 
There  came  the  very  prettiest  music  that  ever  was  heard 
about  the  town ;  and  every  one  within  slept  but  she. 
Ho  came  in  and  he  took  the  child  from  her.  He  took 
himself  out,  and  he  went  away.  The  music  stopped, 
and  each  one  awoke ;  and  there  was  no  knowing  to 
what  side  the  child  had  gone 

She  did  not  tell  anything,  but  so  soon  as  she  rose 
she  took  with  her  the  bridle,  and  she  shook  it,  and  the 
steed  came,  and  she  put  her  head  into  it  She  took 
herself  off  riding,  and  the  steed  took  to  going  home  ; 
and  the  swift  March  wind  that  would  be  before  her, 
she  would  catch ;  and  the  swift  March  wind  that 
would  be  after  her,  could  not  catch  her. 

She  arrived.  *'Thou  are  come,"  said  he.  ''I 
came,**  said  she.  He  noticed  nothing  to  her  ;  and  no 
more  did  she  notice  anything  to  him.  Near  to  the 
end  of  tliree  quarters  again  she  said,  '*  I  had  better  go 
see  my  father."  He  said  to  her  on  this  journey  as  he 
had  raid  before.  She  took  with  her  the  steed,  and 
she  went  away ;  and  when  she  arrived  she  took  the 
bridle  from  the  steed's  head,  and  she  set  her  home. 


204  ^^T^'BT  HIQIILAND  TALBl 

That  yeiy  night  a  child  was  bom.  He  came  as  he 
did  before,  with  music ;  eveiy  one  slepi^  and  he  took 
with  him  the  child.  When  the  music  stopped  thej 
all  awoke.  Her  father  was  before  her  face,  saying  to 
her  that  she  must  tell  what  was  the  reason  of  tlifi 
matter.  She  would  not  tell  anything.  When  she 
grew  well,  and  when  she  rose,  she  took  with  her  the 
bridle,  she  shook  it^  and  the  steed  came  and  put  her 
head  into  it  She  took  herself  away  home.  When 
she  arrived  he  said,  ''Thou  art  come."  "I  came,** 
said  she.  He  noticed  nothing  to  her ;  no  more  did 
she  notice  anything  to  him.  Again  at  the  end  of  three 
quarters,  she  said,  "  I  had  better  go  to  see  my  father.** 
''  Do,"  said  he,  "  but  toko  care  thou  dost  not  as  thou 
didst  on  the  otiier  two  journeys."  ''  I  will  not^"  said  she. 
He  gave  her  the  steed  and  she  went  away.  She 
reached  her  fatlior'9  liouse,  and  that  very  night  a  child 
was  bom.  The  music  came  as  was  usual,  and  the 
child  was  taken  away.  Tlien  her  father  was  before 
her  face ;  and  he  was  going  to  kill  her,  if  she  would 
not  tell  what  was  happening  to  the  children  ;  or  what 
sort  of  man  she  had.  With  the  fright  he  gave  her, 
she  told  it  to  him.  When  she  grew  well  she  took  the 
bridle  with  her  to  a  hill  that  was  opposite  to  her,  and 
she  began  shaking  the  bridle,  to  try  if  the  steed  would 
come,  or  if  she  would  put  her  head  into  it ;  and  though 
she  were  shaking  still,  the  steed  would  not  come. 
When  she  saw  that  she  Avas  not  coming,  she  went 
out  on  foci  When  she  arrived,  no  one  was  within 
but  the  crone  that  was  his  mother.  "  Thou  art  with- 
out a  houseman  to-day,"  said  the  crone  ;  "  and  if  thou 
art  quick  thou  wilt  catch  him  yet"  She  went  away, 
and  she  was  going  till  the  night  came  on  her.  She 
saw  then  a  light  a  long  way  from  her;  and  if  it 
was  a  long  way  from  her,  she  was  not  long  in  reach- 


THB  DAUGHTER  OF  TBM  BKIB&  205 

ing  it  Whon  she  went  in,  the  floor  was  leady 
swept  before  her,  and  the  housewife  spinning  up  in 
the  end  of  the  hoosei  ^  Gome  up,**  said  the  house- 
wife, "  I  know  of  thy  cheer  and  trayeL  Thou  art 
going  to  try  if  thou  canst  catch  thy  man ;  he  is  going 
to  marry  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Skies.**  **  He 
is  !**  said  she.  The  housewife  rose  ;  she  made  meat 
for  her ;  she  set  on  water  to  wash  her  feet^  and  she 
laid  her  down.  If  the  day  came  quickly,  it  was 
quicker  than  that  that  the  housewife  rose,  and  that 
she  made  meat  for  her.  She  set  her  on  foot  then  for 
going ;  and  she  gave  her  shears  that  would  cut  alone ; 
and  she  said  to  her,  ''  Thou  wilt  be  in  the  house  of 
my  middle  sister  to-night**  She  was  going,  and 
going,  till  the  night  came  on  her.  She  saw  a  light  a 
long  way  from  her ;  and  if  it  was  a  long  way  from 
her,  she  was  not  long  in  reaching  it  When  she 
went  in  the  house  was  ready  swept,  a  fire  on  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  and  the  housewife  spinning  at  the 
end  of  the  fire.  **  Come  up,**  said  the  houseivife,  **  I 
know  thy  cheer  and  traveL**  She  made  meat  for  her, 
she  set  on  water,  she  washed  her  feet^  and  she  laid  her 
down.  No  sooner  came  the  day  than  the  housewife 
set  her  on  foot^  and  made  meat  for  her.  She  said  she 
had  better  go  ;  and  she  gave  her  a  n^^dle  would  sew 
by  itselt  ''Thou  wilt  be  in  the  house  of  my  youngest 
sister  to-night,**  said  she.  She  was  going,  and  goings 
till  the  end  of  day  and  the  mouth  of  lateness.  She 
saw  a  light  a  long  way  from  her ;  and  if  it  was  a  long 
way  from  her,  she  was  not  long  in  reaching  it.  She 
went  in,  the  house  was  swept^  and  the  housewife 
spinning  at  the  end  of  the  fire.  *'  Come  up,**  said  she, 
'*  I  know  of  thy  cheer  and  traveL**  She  made  meat 
for  her,  she  set  on  water,  she  washed  her  feet,  and  she 
laid  her  down.      If  the  day  came  quickly,  it  was 


206  WEST  HIGHLAHD  TALK 

quicker  than  that  that  the  housewife  roae ;  ehe  set  her 
on  foot^  and  she  made  her  meat ;  ahe  gave  her  a  eliia 
of  thread,  and  the  thread  would  go  into  the  needle  hj 
itself ;  and  as  the  shears  would  cut^  and  the  needle 
sew,  the  thread  would  keep  up  with  them.  *'  Thou 
wilt  be  in  the  town  to-night."  She  reached  the  town 
about  evening,  and  she  went  into  the  house  of  the 
Idng^s  hen  wife,  to  lay  down  her  weariness,  and  she 
was  warming  herself  at  the  fira  She  said  to  the 
crone  to  give  her  work,  that  she  would  rather  be 
working  than  be  stilL  "No  man  is  doing  a  turn  in 
this  town  to-day,"  says  the  hen  wife ;  ''the  kingfe 
daughter  has  a  wedding."  **  Ud  1"  said  she  to  Ùèa 
orono,  "  give  me  doth  to  sew,  or  a  shirt  that  will  keep 
my  hand  going."  She  gave  her  shirts  to  make ;  abe 
took  the  shears  from  her  pockety  and  she  set  it  to 
work ;  she  set  the  needle  to  work  after  after  it ;  as  the 
shears  would  cut,  the  needle  would  sew,  and  the  thread 
would  go  into  the  needle  by  itself.  One  of  the  Idn^s 
servant  maids  came  in ;  she  was  looking  at  her,  and  it 
caused  her  great  wonder  how  she  made  the  shears  and 
the  needle  work  by  themselvea  She  went  home  and 
she  told  the  king's  daughter,  that  one  was  in  the  house 
of  the  hen  wife,  and  that  she  had  shears  and  a  needle 
that  could  work  of  themselves.  ''  If  there  is,"  said 
the  king's  daughter,  ''  go  thou  over  in  the  moining, 
and  say  to  her,  *  what  will  she  take  for  the  shear&' "  In 
the  morning  she  went  over,  and  she  said  to  her  that 
the  king's  daughter  was  asking  what  would  she  take 
for  the  shean.  "  Nothing  I  asked,"  said  she,  **  but 
leave  to  lie  where  she  lay  last  night"  ''Go  thou 
over,"  said  the  king^s  daughter,  "  and  say  to  her  that 
she  will  get  that."  She  gave  the  shears  to  the  king's 
daughter.  When  they  were  going  to  lie  down,  the 
king's  daughter  gave  him  a  sleep  drink,  so  that  he 


THE  DAUOBTIB  Of  TBM  8UE8.  207 

might  not  wake.  He  did  not  wake  the  length  of  the 
ni^t ;  and  no  sooner  came  the  day,  than  the  king's 
daughter  came  where  she  waa^  and  set  her  on  foot 
and  put  her  out  On  the  morrow  she  was  working 
with  the  needle^  and  cutting  with  other  shears. 
The  king's  daughter  sent  the  maid  servant  orer,  and 
she  asked  ''  what  would  she  take  for  the  needle  f  She 
said  she  would  not  take  anything,  hut  leave  to  lie 
where  she  lay  last  night  The  maid  servant  told  this 
to  the  king's  daughter.  ''She  will  get  that^"  said  the 
king's  daughter.  The  maid  servant  told  that  she 
would  get  that^  and  she  got  the  needle.  When  they 
were  going  to  lie  down,  the  king's  daughter  gave  him 
a  sleep  drink,  and  he  did  not  wake  that  night  The 
eldest  son  he  had  was  lying  in  a  hed  beside  them ;  and 
he  was  hearing  her  speaking  to  him  through  the  nighty 
and  saying  to  him  that  she  was  mother  of  his  three 
childruL  His  father  and  he  himself  were  taking  a 
walk  out^  and  he  told  his  fÌAther  what  he  was  hear- 
ing. This  day  the  king's  daughter  sent  the  servant 
maid  to  ask  what  she  would  take  for  the  due ;  and 
she  said  she  would  ask  but  leave  to  lie  where  she  lay 
last  night  ''She  will  get  that^"  said  the  king's 
daughter.  This  night  when  he  got  the  sleep  drink,  he 
emptied  it,  and  he  did  not  drink  it  at  alL  Thrcnigh 
the  night  she  said  to  him  that  he  was  the  father  of  her 
three  sons  ;  and  he  said  that  he  was.  In  the  morn- 
ings when  the  king^s  daughter  came  down,  he  said  to 
her  to  go  up,  that  she  was  his  wife  who  was  with  him. 
When  they  rose  they  went  away  to  go  home.  They 
came  home  ;  the  spells  went  off  him,  they  planted  to- 
gether and  I  left  them,  and  they  left  me. 


2o8  wnr  hiqhlaivd  tauml 


NIOHBAN  RIQH  KAN  SPEUR. 

BiiA  'liod  aim  rolmhe  to  tuathanach,  ^  bha  tribir  nlglwuum  §àg%  H 
monw  eruidh  U  chaoraeh.  Dh*  fbolbh  a  la*  a*m  fSiieimi  "k  efaa  rabh 
gin  r'a  fliaouinn  dhiu,  *a  thug  a  ted  anlatba  'gan  lamidh.  Ghaanak 
•,  anna  an  aoamoch  a*  tlghinn  dacbaidh,  coilaaa  baag  a*  raith  UmSk 
pkiroa.  Thkinig  an  cailean  far  ao  robh  e^  *■  Da  bhair  thn  dbòml^,'' 
un*  atan,  **  ma  gbaobb  mi  do  choid  cruidb  Ìa,caoracb  dboii?*  **  dw 
*n  *att  fbioa  *am  ftfin  a  raid  gbrannda.  "  Da  bbioa  Uin  *g  ianaidh? 
*a  bhair  mlia  dboit  a  da  ni  aam  bith  a  th'  agam.**  *■  An  d'  tboir  tfia 
dbomb,**  on'  an  cuilaan«**do  nlgbaan  mbòrr'a  pòaadb.**  "Bhalr 
miaa  dboit  i,**  ura*  aum, «  ma  gbabbaa  i  tela  thn."  Ghaidh  lad 
dhachaidh,  a  ftfin  *a  an  cuilean.  Dh*  fhoighnaachd  a  h-alhafa'  d*a  nigfaaaa 
bn  abina  an  gabbadb  i  a^  *a  tbuirt  i  nacb  gabbadh.  Thoiit  a  ria  aa 
darna  U  am  pòaadb  iaa  e,  *a  thoirt  i  nach  pòaadh,  gad  nach  fldgfata  aa 
orodh  gu  brbth.  Thuirt  a  ria  an  ttf  'b  òiga  am  pòaadh  laa  a^  *a  thairt 
I  gum  pòaadh.  Phòa  iad,  'a  bha  'paathraicliMB  a'  magadh  ana 
airaon  gun  do  phòa  i  a.  Tbug  a  leia  dbadiaidh  i  d*a  hita  fehu  Nar  a 
thhinig  a  g*  a  bita  còmbnuidh  r<nn  dh*  fhba  a  *na  dhiilna  oÌatadL  Bha 
iad  oòmbla  hina  mhòr,  'a  thuirt  if  gum  b*  fhchm  dhl  dol  a  dh* 
amharc  a  h-athar.  Thuirt  eaan  ritha  i  thoirt  an  aira  nach  fhanadh  I 
gua  am  biodh  dann  aica.  Dlia  i  torrach  'san  am.  Thuirt  i  aadi 
fanadh.  Thug  a  dhi  ateud,  'a  thuirt  a  ritha,  cho  luath  *a  a  ruigaadh  i 
*n  tigh  an  t-arian  a  thoirt  i^a  ceann,  *a  a  laigeil  air  folbh,  'a  nar  a 
bliiodh  toil  aica  tighinn  dachaidh  nacb  robh  alo*  ach  an  t-ariaa  a 
chrathadb,  *a  gun  d*  thigaadh  an  ataud  'a  gun  cuireadh  i  'caann  innta. 
Rlnn  i  mar  a  dh'  iarr  a  urra.  Cha  robh  i  fad'  an  tigh  a  h-athar  nar  a 
dh'  fhba  i  gu  bochd  'aa  chaidh  a  h-aaaid.  An  oidhcha  ain  bha  daolaa 
cruinn  aig  a'  ghealbhan  'ga  'faire.  lliàinig  an  aona  chaòl  a  bn  bhinaa 
chualaa  riamh  feadh  a'  bbaila,  'a  chaidil  a'  h-nila  duina  atigb  ach  laa. 
Thbinig  eaan  a  atigh  '•  tbug  a  uaithe  am  pàiada.  Obabh  a  "niaoh  'a 
dh*  fboibb  a.  Stad  an  ceòl,  '•  dbuiag  gacb  duine,  'a  cha  robh  6oa  da  *n 
taobh  a  chaidh  am  pkiada.  Clia  d'  innia  i  ni  aam  bith,  ach  cho  Inath 
'a  a  dh'  'èiridh  i  thug  i  leatha  an  t-arUn,  *a  chrath  i  i,  'a  thhhUg  an 
ateud,  *a  chuir  i  'ceann  innte.  Qhabb  i  air  mbarcachd  urra,  'a  ghabh 
an  ataud  air  folbh  dbachaidh ;  bheireadh  iaa  air  a  ghaoith  luath  mhhrt 
V  a  bh'  air  thoiaaach  orra,  'a  cha  bheUeadh  a  ghaoth  luath  mhhrt  a  bha 
na  dtfigh  orra.    Rbinig  i. 

"Thkinig  thu,"  ura'  eaan.    *<  Thbinig,"  ura' iaa.    Cha  do  laig  a 

•  rud  sam  bith  air  rithe,  'a  ohm  mhotha  leig  iaa  rudll^bith  orra  riaan. 

Dliith  air  ceann  tri  ràithean  a  rithisd  thuirt  ise,  *'  'S  fbehrra  dhomh 


NIOHIAN  BIOH  NAN  SPIU&  SO9 

dol  a  dh*  ftmhArc  m*  athAr.**  Thnirt  •  rithe  air  an  t-BÌnblial  to  mar 
a  thiifart  6  roimhid.  Thug  i  1«atlu  an  tteud  *8  dh*  fholbh  i.  Nor  a 
ràinig  i  thug  i  n  t-frian  a  eaann  na  ftaod,  *■  Mg  i  dhachaldh  i»  *taii 
oldbeha  tin  f^n  cfaaidh  a  b-asaid.  Thàinig  «tan  mar  a  rinn  •  roimhid 
IteiòL  ChaidUa*li.ailediiiiie,*tUiiigeleitampàÌMl6.  Knrattad 
ao  eeòl  dlihiig  i«d  air  fad.  lllia  li-atliair  air  a  h-aodann  ag  rkdii 
ritiM  gum  fenmadli  i  innaaadh  de  Ira  eliiall  de  *n  glinothaciL  Clia  *& 
iimseadli  ìm  ni  sam  bitli.  Nnr  a  dli'  fhkt  i  gn  math,  *■  a  dh*  èiridh  i, 
thug  i  lealha  an  i-srlan,  ehrath  i  i,  *»  thainig  an  ■tend,  '■  chair  i 
caann  innte.  Ghabh  i  air  folbh  dhachaidh.  Nor  a  rhinig  i  thoirt 
esan.  «  Thhinig  tho."  "  Thhintg,*  on*  iae.  Cba  do  leig  a  md  aam 
hith  air  rithe,  *■  cha  mhotha  *leig  \m  vrra  riian.  An  ceann  tri 
rhithoan  a  ritbiiid  thnirt  i,  «"S  fhehrra  dhomh  dol  a  dh*  amharc  m* 
athar.*  *'  Dean,*  on'  etan,  ''ach  thoir  an  aire  nach  dean  thn  mar  a 
rinn  thn  an  da  ihinbhal  roimhid."  «•  Cha  dean,"  on*  ite.  Thog  a 
dhl  an  ftood,  *tdh*Tbo]bh  i.  Rhinig  i  tigh  a  h-^ithar,  *8  dh*  anid- 
aadh  i  *n  oidheha  do  ffin.  ThiOuig  an  etòl  mar  a  b*  hbhairt,  *8 
thngadh  am  pàiad*  air  folbh.  Bha  *h-athair  air  a  h-aodann  an  tin,  *■ 
a  *dol  a  *marbhadh  mar  aninntoadh  i  dtf 'bha  tacliairt  do  na  phitdcan, 
BO  à4  *n  M^wta  doiiie  a  bh'alce.  Leis  an  aagal  a  choir  a  nrra 
dh*  innia  i  dlia  a.  Nor  a  dh*  fhht  i  gn  math,  thvg  i  leatha  an 
t-«ian  gn  cooc  a  bba  ma  *ooinnaamli,  *■  thòiaich  i  air  erathadh  na 
writoB  feoch  an  d*thigMdh  an  iteod,  na*n  cnireadh  i  *oeann  fainta,  *■ 
gad  a  bhiodh  i  *crathadh  fhathatd  cha  d*  thigaadh  an  itoiid.  Nur  a 
chonnaie  i  nach  robh  i  *tighinn  gliabh  i  mach  "ba  coii.  Nnr  a  rhinig 
I  cha  robh  dnfaia  ttigh  ach  a*  chaillaaeh  a  bn  mhhthair  dha.  "  Tha 
thvia  gun  fbaar  tlgha  an  dingh,**  an*  a*  chaiiWach,  '*  *a  ma  bhioa  thu 
tapaidb  bairidh  thn  air  fhathaad.** 

Qhabh  i  air  folbh,  *•  bbai*folbh  gnian  d*thynigan  oidheha orra. 
Chonnaie  i  *n  lin  tolvs  fiida  naitha,  *8  ma  b'  fhada  uaitho  cha  b*  ihada 
bhaÌM*ga'raighaaehd.  Nur  a  ehaidh  i  ttigh  bha  vrlar  rAdh  ^piabto 
rolmhpc,  *•  baan  an  tight 'nkrnh  ihnaa an  otann  an  tigha.  ^'Thiga 
fliloa,"  nna  baan an  tight,  *tha  floa  do  thtnd *t  do  thinbhail agamta.** 
Tha  thn  folbh  fench  tm  bair  thu  air  i-fhtar.  Tha  a  *folbh  a  phòtadh 
nighaan  r^h  nan  tptnr.**  "Thai**  unT  Itt.  Dh*  iM4t  baan  an 
tiglM ;  rinn  i  biadh dhi;  chnfar  i  air  uitga  *ghlaaadh  a  ott ;  *t  chnir  i 
laidht  L  Ma  bn  loath  a  thhinig  an  latha  bo  loaitha  na  tin  a  dh* 
</ diridh  baan  an  tight  *ia  rinn  i  biadh  dhL  Choir  i  air  a  coto  i  *n  tin 
alrtoo  folbh,  *t  thog  i  dhi  tiotar  a  ghtarradh  Wt  fOn,  *t  thoirt  i  ritht. 
"  Bidh  tho  ann  an  tigh  mo  phiotiiar  nUittdhonachta  nochd  "  Bba  i 
ifelbh  *■  a*  folbhf  got  an  d*  thhinig  an  oidheha  orra.  Chonnaie  I  toloa 
fkda  oaitht^'t  ma  b*  ihada  oaltha  cha  b*  ihada  bha  Ita  *ga  roighaathd. 

^   P 


2  lO  Wm  BIOHLAirD  TALK. 

NaraohAÌdhittlghl>lu*ntighrtfidh,tgiuibU|  gMlbhmalr 
on  an  nrUir,  *■  bean  aa  Ugha  *anionih  aa  omui  a'  gtwalblHita, 
*'Thig  a  niot,*  una  bean  an  tigbe,  *<Uia  fioa  do  abtnd  'a  do  ahiabhaH 
agamaa.**  Rinn  i  biadb  dbi;  choir  i  air  ai«ga;  gfalaa  1  ^etMOi^ 
cbolr  i  laidha  L  Cba  bu  loaitlia  a  thàinig  aa  laiha  aa  *oMr 
boaa  an  Ugha  air  a  ooU  i,  *a  a  rina  i  biadh  dhi.  Thairt  I  liCht 
gum  b'  fheàrra  dbi  folbb,  *8  thug  i  dhi  anhthad  a  dh*  fhuaiglMadk 
leatha  tèiiL  **  Bidh  thu  ann  an  Ugh  mo  phoathar  ia  Mga  a  noelid^" 
un'  iio. 

Bha  i  foibh  'a  a'  folbh  gn  deiraadh  latha  *•  boo!  anamolfth.  Ghaa. 
naie  i  solui  fkda  uaiibe,  *a  ma  b'  fhada  uaitha  cha  b*  fhada  bha  iaa  ^ 
mighaachd.  Cbaidh  i  itigb.  Bba  *n  Ugh  aguabta^  *a  baan  aa  ti^ 
*in\omh  oa  ceann  a*  ghaalbhain.  **  Thig  a  nka,**  ura*  iaa^  <*  tha  floa  do 
abaud  's  do  ahiubhail  agamia.*  Rbin  i  biadh  dhi ;  **  chnir  i  air  ulifai 
ghlan  i  'caaan,  *8  chuir  i  laidha  i.  Ma  bu  luath  a  Uihinig  an  lath^ 
Y  bu  luaitha  na  tin  a  dh*  ^ridh  baan  an  Uglia;  chuir  i  air  a  cois  1^  1i 
rinn  i  biadh  dhL  Thug  i  dlii  caairala  ahnhUi,  'a  rachadh  aa  aahtli- 
ainn  anna  an  t-tnhthad  laia  fAn,  *8  raur  a  gliaarradh  aa  aÌoaar»  *•  mut 
a  dh*  fhuaigheadh  an  t-ankUiad,  chumadh  a  cliaairila  aaàth  nU^  * 
«  Bidh  Uiu  aona  a*  bhaUa  nochd.**  '^***^-. 

Ràinig  i  *m  balla  ma  fbeaigar  *a  chaidhiaUgh  do  tfiigh chitnaach 
chaaro  an  righ.  Shuidh  i  *laigail  a  agioa ;  bha  i  ga  garadh  aig  a' 
ghealbhan ;  thuirt  i  ria  a*  chaillich  obair  a'  Uioirt  dhi,  gum  b'  fhahir 
leaUia  'bhi  'g  obair  na  bhi  *na  thmh.  "Cha  *n  'aU  duina  dtenadh 
turn  'sa'  bhaile  to  n  diugh  "  urta  a'  chailleach ;  **  tlia  pòtadh  aig  nigh- 
aan  an  riffh."  **  Ud  I  **  ura'  iae  ria  a'  chaUlich, '« Uioir  dhomh  aodach  i^a 
fhuaghal,  na  l^na  'chumaa  mo  làmh  air  folbh.*  Thug  i  dhi  lèintaaa 
r*a  dhèanadh.  Thugi  mach  aiosar  ara  pòca;  chuir  i  dh*  obair  a; 
chuir  i  'n  t-inàUiad  a  dh'  obair  as  a  dh^gh.  Mar  a  ghearradh  an  aioaar 
dh*  fhuaigheadh  an  Utnkthad,  *8  rachadh  an  snhth  anna  an  t-enhthaid 
leia  fèin.  Thàinig  U  do  sbearbhantan  an  righ  sUgh ;  bha  i  'g  amhare 
urra ;  's  bha  a  cur  i&jflflSaa  mòr  urra  demur  a  bha  i  *toÌrt  air  an  t-aioaar 
'aair  an  UsnaUuuloibreachadh  leothaf^in.  Cbaidh i  dhachaidh.'bdh' 
innia  i  do  nighean  an  rìgh  gun  robh  16  ann  an  Ugh  chaQleach  nan 
cearc,  'a  gun  robh  aioaar  agua  ankthad  aice  a  dh*  oibreachadh  leoUia 
fèìn,  J^  Ma  Uu,"  uraa  nighean  an  righ,  **  Uieirig  Uiuaa  nunn  anna  a* 
mhidiynn,  *a  abair  rithe  de  *ghabhaa  i  air  an  t-aioaarà**  Anna  a* 
mliatdinn  chaidh  i  'nunn,  *a  Uiuirt  i  riUie  gun  robh  nighean  an  rIgh 
a'  foighneaohd  dtf  ghabhadh  i  air  an  t-aioaar.  "  Clia  'n  iarr  mi,**  on* 
iae^  **  ach  cead  laidha  far  an  do  laidh  i  fèin  an  rair?*  «  Theirig  Uioaa 
nunn,"  uraa  nighean  an  i)gh,  ^'a  abair  riUie  gum  faigh  i  ain.** 
Thug  i  *n  aioaar  do  nighean  an  rìgh. 


HIOHBàH  BIOH  NAH  8PBUB.  111 

Kor  a  Uu  iad  a*  dol  a  laÌdlM  thng  BÌgbMa  aa  righ  deoeli 
ckadaU  datan,  air  alt  li  naoh  dhitgaadh  e.  Cha  do  dhbifg  • 
hd  iia  h-okUidie,  '■  cha  Ira  laaitÌM  a  thynig  aa  latha  iia  thìdiiif 
■igliMii  an  rtgh  ùr  an  robh  Im^  Va  choir  i  air  a  eoit  i.  An  la  *r  na 
mhàireach  bba  1  *g  obair  Wt  aa  t-mkthiid,  '•  a*  gearradh  to  tÌMar 
•Oa.  Chidr  nighaaa  an  i)gh  an  Marbhanta  nimn  a  dh*  fhoighneaelid 
dtf  'gliabhadh  i  air  an  t-tnkthakL  Thoirt  i  naeh  gabhadb  ni  aam 
bith  aeh  oead  toidbe  ftr  an  do  laidh  i  rair.  Dh'  innit  an  Marbbanta 
■0  do  nighoao  an  rtgta.  *  Ghoobh  i  dn,"  nrta  nigbean  an  i)gh.  Dh* 
Ìnnia  an  narbhanta  gnm  faiglieadh  i  riod,  '•  flraair  i  *n  i-anbthad. 
Knr  a  bba  iad  a*  dola  Uidlio  tbng  nighean  an  i)gb  deodi  chadai^  da, 
1|  eha  do  dhbisg  e  'n  oidheha  dn.  Bba  *m  mae  a  bn  ihine  bh'  aiga 
■an  an  leaba  Ibrah  rintha,  *•  bba  e  *ga  'dnfaintinn  a*  bniidhinn  ria 
fMdbnab-oÌdhebc^  *•  agrbdh  rlsgnmbl  mbUiaÌr  a  thribir  chioinn*  1. 
Bhaathair*taf<Ana*gabhaU  trUd  a  maeh,  *•  dh*innit  ed'aaUiab 
dtf  *bba  e  Vlidnntinn.  An  latba  to  chair  nighean  an  Agh  an  laarbb- 
anU  a  dh*  fhoòraich  dc  'ghabhadh  i  air  a*  chcainto,  *•  thnirt  1  ritho 
naefa  iarnMÌh  i  ach  oMd  laidhe  (kr  an  do  toidh  1 'n  rair.  ••Gheobh  i 
dn,**  OTM  nighaan  an  i)gh.  An  oldhcha  to  nor  a  fhoair  a  *n  deoch 
chadail  thaom  ei,'ichad*MeidirL  Feadh  na  h-oidhche  thnirt  iw 
lis  gum  b*  e  athair  a  trihir  mac,  '•  thnirtcftan  gnm  b*  a. 

Anni  a  mh%M|Dn,  nor  a  thUuig  nighcan  an  rtgfa  noa%  thnirt  a 
rithai*dhoUaas,gnmbi*bb«mabhalaia.  Nora  dh'afaridh  iad  dh' 
fholbh  iad  airwn  dol  dichaidh.  Thhinig  iad  dachaidh;  dh*  fholbh 
na  gaaian  doth.  Chnir  lad  còmhU  *a  dhaalaich  miia  rJntha,  '■  dheaU 
al^  iftdtiin  rinaiMk 

Thia  is  bat  another  Terrion  of  No.  III.,  **  The  Hoodie  ;'*  bot 
H  haa  certain  magic  gifti  which  I  have  not  fonnd  in  anj  other 
Qaelic  itory ;  and  the  UuU  dog  who  goes  to  the  thiea,  and  Is 
abont  to  marry  the  daughter  of  the  king,  and  is  traniformed  into 
a  man  at  home,  may  tarn  oat  to  be  a  Celtic  diiinitj.  When  lo 
little  if  known  of  Celtic  mythologj,  anything  may  be  of  oae.  The 
niTen,  the  crow,  and  the  aerpent,  haTO  appeared  aa  transformed 
being!  of  taperior  power.  Now,  the  little  dog  appean,  and  there 
are  mystic  dogs  elsewhere  in  Gaelic  stories,  and  in  other  Celtic 
conn  tries.  In  the  Isle  of  Man  is  the  well-known  "  Modey  dhn,** 
black  dog  which  need  to  hannt  Peel  Caatle,  and  frightened  a  sol- 
dier to  death. 

In  a  cnrioos  book,  written  to  prore  Gaelic  to  be  the  original 
Uuigvage  (History  of  the  COtk  Laagnage,  by  L.  MaoLean,  1840), 


211  wnr  BIOIILAND  TALM. 

there  is  a  great  deal  of  tpeouktion  at  to  tlM  Fimaaa  Globa ;  and 
the  dog-ttar  in  partioolar  if  fappoaed  to  hare  heen  wonhippod  bj 
the  Dniida.  Without  entering  into  each  a  wide  field,  it  ii  wortli 
notice  that  **Anubia,'*  the  dog-atar,  wai  ton  of  Oairia  and 
Nephthyt,  had  the  nature  of  a  dogi  and  wai  repreaented  with  tlia 
head  of  one.  He  waa  a  oeleitial  double  deitj,  and  watched  tlia 
tropica.  The  aenrant  lad  who  told  this  etorj ;  and  the  old  woman, 
Mao  Kerrol,  from  whom  he  learned  it,  are  not  likelj  panona 
to  hare  heard  of  Anubis,  or  the  Famere  Globe ;  ao  anything  goi 
from  them  may  be  taken  at  its  Talne,  whaterer  that  maybe.  Tlia 
opinion  that  delta  came  from  the  Eatt  by  way  of  Phianicia,  haa 
been  held  by  many,  and  some  one  may  wish  to  follow  the  trail  of 
the  little  dog ;  so  I  gire  his  history  as  it  came  to  me,  rather  than 
fuse  it  into  one  story  with  the  Hoodie,  aa  I  waa  at  first  tempted  to 
do  before  the  plan  of  this  work  was  decided  on. 

The  beginning  of  this  Ule  is  the  Gaelio  **  Onoe  upon  a  tima.** 

Bha  siod      ann  roimhe  so. 
Woi  yonder  inii  er€      ikU. 

Taioa  is  a  oollectire  noun  of  number  for  three,  and  aaswen  to 
lea$h;  or  to  pmr^  hraee,  dozen^  for  two;  tweWe. 

Stbud  is  clearly  the  same  word  as  steed.  It  is  oommonl/ 
used  in  these  stories,  and  I  hare  never  heard  it  used  in  oonreraa- 
tion.  It  is  feminine,  like  falairx,  the  other  word  commonly 
used  for  a  horse  in  stories  and  poetry;  and  hardly  erer  in 
ordinary  speech. 

Many  words  are  derived  from  steud,  and  I  do  not  think  that  it 
is  imported.  . 


xni. 

THE  GIRL  Am)  THE  DEAD  MAN. 

From  Ann  Darrooh,  IiUj. 

^HERE  was  before  now  a  poor  woman,  and  she  had 
-^  a  leash  of  daughters.  Said  the  eldest  one  of  them 
to  her  mother,  "  I  had  better  go  myself  and  seek  for 
fortune."  "  I  had  better/'  said  her  mother,  ''bake  a 
bannock  for  thea"  When  the  bannock  was  ready, 
her  mother  said  to  her,  "  Whether  wouldst  thou  like 
best  the  bit  and  my  blessing,  or  the  big  bit  and  my 
corse  r  "I  would  rather,"  said she^  "  the  big  bit  and 
thy  curse."  She  went  away,  and  when  ihe  night  was 
wreathing  round  her,  she  sat  at  the  foot  of  a  wall  to 
eat  the  bannock.  There  gathered  the  sreath  chuilean- 
ach  and  her  twelye  puppies,  and  the  little  birds  of 
the  air  about  her,  for  a  part  of  the  bannock.  ^  Wilt 
thou  giye  us  a  part  of  the  bannock,"  said  they.  ''  I 
won't  giye  it,  you  ugly  brutes  ;  I  haye  not  much  for 
mysell*'  "  My  curse  will  be  thine,  and  the  curse  of 
my  twelve  birds ;  and  thy  mothei^s  curse  is  thy  worst 
of  alL"  She  rose  and  she  went  away,  and  she  had  not 
half  enough  with  the  bit  of  the  bannock.  She  saw  a 
little  house  a  long  way  from  her  ;  and  if  a  long  way 
from  her,  she  was  not  long  reaching  it  She  struck 
in  the  door.  ''  Who's  there  T  "A  good  maid  seek- 
ing a  master."     **  We  want  that,"  said  they,  and  aha 


1 1 4  Wnr  HIQHLAND  TAUML 

got  in.  She  had  now  a  pock  of  gold  and  a  pock  of 
ailver  to  get ;  and  she  was  to  be  awake  eyery  night  to 
watch  a  dead  man,  brother  of  the  housewife,  who  was 
under  spells.  She  had  besides,  of  nuts  as  she  broke^ 
of  needles  as  she  lost^  of  thimbles  as  she  pierced,  of 
thread  as  she  used,  of  candles  as  she  burned,  a  bed  of 
green  silk  over  her,  a  bed  of  green  silk  under  hei^ 
sleeping  by  day  and  watching  by  night  The  first 
night  when  she  was  watching  she  fell  asleep  ;  the  mis- 
tress came  in,  she  struck  the  magic  club  on  her,  she 
fell  down  dead,  and  she  threw  her  out  at  the  back  of 
the  midden. 

Said  the  middle  one  to  her  mother,  ''  I  had  better 
go  seek  fortune  and  follow  my  sister.*'  Her  mother 
baked  her  a  bannock  ;  and  she  chose  the  big  half  and 
her  mother's  curse,  as  her  elder  sister  did,  and  it  hap- 
pened to  her  as  it  happened  to  her  sister. 

Said  the  youngest  one  to  her  mother,  **  I  had  bet- 
ter myself  go  to  seek  fortune  too,  and  follow  my 
sisters."  *^  I  had  better  bake  a  bannock,"  said  her 
mother.  '^  Whether  wouldst  thou  rather  the  little 
bit  and  my  blessing,  or  the  big  bit  and  my  curse  f " 
"  I  would  rather  the  little  bit  and  your  blessing." 
She  went,  and  the  night  was  wreatliing  round  her,  and 
she  sat  at  the  foot  of  a  wall  to  eat  the  bannock.  There 
gathered  the  sreath  chuileanach  and  the  twelve  pup- 
pies, and  the  little  birds  of  the  air  about  her.  ''  Wilt 
thou  give  us  some  of  that  V*  "  I  will  give,  you  pretty 
creatures,  if  you  will  keep  me  company."  She  gave 
them  some  of  the  bannock ;  they  ate  and  they  had 
plenty,  and  she  had  enough.  They  clapped  their 
wings  about  her  till  she  was  snug  with  the  warmth. 
She  went,  she  saw  a  little  house  a  long  way  from  her ; 
and  if  it  was  a  long  way  from  her,  she  was  not  long 
Teaching   it      She   struck   in   the  door.      "  Who 's 


THl  OIBL  AND  TBM  DIAD  MAN.  1 1 5 

iheier  ^'A  good  maid  seeking  a  master.**  <'We 
haye  need  of  thai"  The  wages  she  had  were  a  peek 
of  gold  and  a  peck  of  silver ;  of  nuts  as  she  broke,  of 
needles  as  she  lost,  of  thimbles  as  she  pierced,  of 
thread  as  she  used,  of  candles  as  she  burned,  a  bed  of 
the  green  silk  over  her,  and  a  bed  of  the  green  silk 
under  her.  She  sat  to  watch  the  dead  man,  and  she 
was  sewing ;  on  the  middle  of  night  he  rose  up,  and 
screwed  up  a  grin.  "  If  thou  dost  not  lie  down  properly, 
I  will  give  thee  the  one  leathering  with  a  stick."  He 
lay  down.  At  the  end  of  a  while,  he  rose  on  one 
elbow,  and  screwed  up  a  grin ;  and  the  third  time  he 
rose  and  screwed  up  a  grin.  When  he  rose  the  third 
time,  she  struck  him  a  lounder  of  the  stick ;  the  stick 
stuck  to  the  dead  man,  and  the  hand  stuck  to  the 
stick  ;  and  out  they  were.  They  went  forward  till 
they  weie  going  through  a  wood  ;  when  it  was  low  for 
her  it  was  high  for  him ;  and  when  it  was  high  for 
him  it  was  low  for  her.  The  nuts  were  knocking 
their  eyes  out,  and  the  sloes  taking  their  ears  off,  till 
they  got  through  the  wood.  After  going  through  the 
wood  they  returned  home.  She  got  a  peck  of  gold 
and  a  peek  of  silyer,  and  the  yessel  of  ooidial.  She 
rubbed  the  vessel  of  cordial  to  her  two  sisters,  and 
brought  them  alive.  They  returned  home ;  they  left 
me  sitting  here,  and  if  they  were  well,  'tis  well ;  and 
if  they  were  not,  let  them  be. 


AN  KIQHIKN  A0U8  AM  DUINB  MARBU. 

Bra  bean  bhoehd  ann  roimlM  mi,  *■  btia  trihir  nigbaan  aioa.  Thairt 
an  U  ba  sbina  dhia  r*a  mktbair,  «"8  fhakrra  dbooah  fb^n  dol  a  db* 
iarraidb  an  fliorUin."  **  *S  fbabrra  dbònba,**  una  a  nktbair, "  bonn- 
aeb  a  dhaaaacbadh  dbait'*    Mw  a  bha  *bi  boonaeb  Hhdk  tbnirt  a 


Il6  Wnr  HIQHLAirD  TAUML 

< 

miOhair  rithe^  oò'cft  *•  nMàrr  iMt  a' bhUklh  bliMff  *■  mo  MMUMeU 
iuin>hUidb  mbor  '■  mo  mbolUclML"  •''S  fbeàrr  lean,**  sn'ioi^  *«a' 
bhlAidbmhi^'adomliollMlid.''  Db'fbolbbi.  Nur  a  bho  *&  oidhchi 
*caaadh  una  ibnidb  i  'cboto  gkrraidb  a  db*  itbeadb  a*  bhoonaidu 
Nor  a  ibnidb  i  *db'  itbeadb  a'  biioDiiaicb  cbniiiiiiicb  an  t  waath 
cbttiioanacb,  *8  a  da  cbnUean  dong,  '■  eòln  bbeag  an  atbar  timehloQ 
nrra  ainon  pàiit  da  *n  bbonnacb.  "  An  d*  iboir  tbu  dboinna  pblitda 
*n  bbonnacb,**  nn*  iadsan.  "  Cba  d'  tbobbair  a  bbiatbaiebaan  grbnada; 
cba  mbor  a  tb*  agam  dbomb  f(An.  "  Biodb  mo  mbolUdida*  agadsa, 
'•  mollacbd  mo  dba  eon  deug,  *•  a  moUacbd  do  mbktbar  it  meua  dhnU 
airfod.** 

Db'  èiridb  i  '■  db*  fboibb  i,  *■  cba  robh  leitb  a  leoir  *■  a'  bblaidb 
bbonnaicb.  Cbnnnaic  i  Ugb  beag  fiula  naitbe,  *■  ma  b*  fbada  naitha 
cba  b'  fbada  bba  iae  *ga  rnlgbeecbd.  Bbuail  i  *ian  doroad.  **  Co  tba 
aiod?**  •*  SearbbanU  matb  aig  iarraidb  maigbttir.**  *'Tba  ain  a 
dbitb  oinme,**  nra*  iadaan,  a'  fbnair  i  *atigb.  Bba  peie  òfar  it  peie 
airgid  aloe  r*a  fbaotainn,  *a  i  ri  aitbreacbacb  a'  b-nile  b-oldbcb'  a* 
faire  duine  marbb,  brbtbair  do  bbean  an  tigbe  liba  fo  gbeaaan  Bba 
aice  cuideacbd  dechnnthan  mar  a  bbrtadeadb  i ;  de  abnbtbadan  mar  a 
cbailloadb  I ;  *a  do  mbourain  mar  a  tbolladb  i ;  de  abnktb  mar  a 
eboadadb  i ;  de  cboinnlean  mar  a  loiageadb  i ;  leaba  do  n  t-aiod'  aaine 
tbairte;  leaba  de  *n  t-aloda  uaine  fbicbe;  codal  'aan  latba, 'a  aitb- 
reachadb  'aan  oidhcbe. 

A'  cbiad  oidbche,  nor  a  bba  i  *faire,  tbuit  i  *na  cadaL  Tbbinig  a 
banarohaigbatir  a  atigh;  bbuail  i  *n  alacbdan  draoidheacbd  urra; 
thuH  i  aioa  marbh ;  'a  thilg  i  macb  ciil  an  diinain  i. 

Tbuirt  an  tè  mheadhonacb  r'a  mkthair,  **  'S  fliearra  domb  dol  a 
db*  iarraidb  an  fbortain,  'a  mo  pbuithar  a  leantainn.**  Dbeaaaicb  a 
mktbair  bonoacb,  'a  roighnieb  iae  an  leitb  mbor  la  mollacbd  a  màtbar, 
mar  a  rinn  a  piutliar  a  bu  ablne.  Thacbair  dbi  mar  a  tliacbair  d*a 
plutbar. 

Tbuirt  an  iè  b*  òlge  r'a  mbtbalr,  -  'S  (bebrra  dbomb  f^n  dol  a  db* 
iarraidb  an  fbortain  cuideacbd,  *a  mo  pbeatbraicbean  a  leantafam.** 
"'S  fbekrra  dbòmhaa  bonuacb  a  dbeaaacbadb,"  ura'  a  mktbair. 
*'  Cò*ca  *a  fbekrr  leat  a*  bblaidb  bbeag  'a  mo  bbeannacbd,  na  *bblaidb 
mbor  'a  mo  mhollacbd,  **  'S  fhekrr  learn  a  bblaidb  bbeag  'a  bbur  beann- 
acbd.'*  Db*  fholbh  i.  Bba  'n  oidhcbe  'caaadb  urra,  'a  abuidb  I  'cboia 
gkrraldb  a  db'  itbeadb  a  bbonnaicb.  Cbruinnich  an  t-areatb  cbuil- 
eanacb,  'a  an  da  cbuilean  deug,  *a  eòin  blieag  an  atbair  timcbioll  urra. 
•*  An  d*  tbobbair  tbu  dbuinne  rud  dbeth  ain  ?  "  *<  Bheltbir  a  bbeatb. 
alcbean  bòidheacb,  ma  ni  sibh  comaith  rium  f<nn.  Thug  i  dbaibbrud 
de  'n  bhonnach  ;  dk'  itb  lad  e ;  'a  bba  na  leoir  acasan  *8  na  leoir  aice 


AN  MIGHINN  A0U8  AN  DUINB  MARBH.  1 1 7 

ffln.    Chl^>  iad  aa  ifUthan  timchioU  iirra,  1i  bliA  I'liA  CUm  lib  A 
bhlàthM. 

Dh*  niolbh  L  Chmmaie  i  tigh  Uag  fatU  iuith«^  'b  mm  Vflttda 
naitlM  eha  b*  fbada  *b1ui  ìm  'g«  *niigbMehd.  Bhnail  i  *iaii  doraa. 
"Cosiod?**  « SwtfbhanU  math  alg  iarnidh  maighttir.'*  «Tba 
ain  a  dhith  blrnne.**  8e  *n  tnaraMÌal  a  bh*  aica  peie  bir  ia  peie  air- 
gid ;  da  chnathan  mar  a  bhriadeadb  i ;  da  tbnbUiadan  mar  a  chaill- 
aadh  i ;  de  mbearain  mar  a  tbolladb  i;  da  abnkth  mar  a  dioadadh  I ; 
da  choinnlean  mar  a  loi^geadb  i;  leaba  da  n  t-akxl*  naina  thairta^  *a 
laaba  da  *n  t-alod  naina  fbicba. 

Shnidh  i  *fair«  an  doine  mbairbh,  *■  bba  i  ftiagfaaL  Air  a' 
mbaadhon  oldhcba  db*  Aridb  atan,  *•  ebaa  a  braoisg  air.  *Mar  an 
laidb  tbn  sWm  roar  a  th*  agad  bbair  miaa  aon  itraoilaadh  dbnit  da 
bhata.**  Laidb  a  tloa.  Ann  oeann  taean  baag  a  ritbiad  db*  tfiridb  e 
air  a  laitb-aiUnn,  *•  ebai  a  braoltg  air,  h  an  traai  nair  db'  Aridh 
a'tebaa  a  braoiag  alrtr*  Nar  a  db*  ^irìdb  a  "n 'treaa  nair  bbnail 
I  ttraoUaadb  da  'n  bliat*  air.  Lean  am  bata  ris  an  duina  mbarbb ; 
laan  an  lamb  rif  a*  bbata  I  *■  a  macb  a  bba  iad.  Obabh  iad  air 
an  agbaidb  gns  an  robb  iad  a'  dol  romb  cboilla.  Mar  a  b'  iaeal 
diaa  a  b'brd  dbbsan  a,  *•  mar  a  b' kid  dbbaan  a  b*)aeal  diaa 
a.  Bba  na  cnutban  a*  ioirt  nan  sbl  aada,  *•  na  b-kimeaa  a' 
toirt  nan  dnaa  dbintba,  gua  an  d*  fbnair  iad  romb  *n  cboilla.  An 
d^b  dol  rtmib  *n  cboilla  tbill  iad  dacbaidb.  Fboair  i  paie  bir  Ìa 
paic  airgid,  *aara  ballan  iocablaiat  Rub  i  'm  ballan  iocablalnt  r'a  da 
pbinthar,  *8  tbog  i  baò  iad.  TbiU  iad  dbadiaidb.  Db*  (bag  iad  miaa 
a*m  *tbnidl»  «s*t  ma  bha  iad  gn  matbli  matb,  *i  mar  an  robblaigatr 
dbaibh. 

Tliit  aiory  baa  aoma  ralatlon  to  '*  Tlia  man  wbo  travallad  to 
laam  wbat  fear  waa  ;**  bnt  I  know  notbing  qnita  like  it  in  Gaalie, 
or  in  anj  otber  language.  Ann  Darrocb,  wbo  told  it  to  Hector 
MaoLean  in  May  1869,  learned  it  from  an  old  woman,  Margaret 
Conal,  of  wbom  MacLean  wriiee — 

"  I  bave  aome  recollection  of  ber  mjaelf ;  the  waa  wont  to 
repeat  nnmeroot  '  ungeuln*  (talea).  Her  favonrite  reaorta  were 
tbe  Ulna,  where  the  people  were  kiln-drying  their  com ;  and 
where  the  waa  frequently  rewarded,  for  amnaiug  them  in  this 
manner,  by  snppliea  of  meal.  She  waa  paralytic;  ber  head  abook 
like  an  aspen  leaf,  and  whenoTer  she  repeated  anything  that  waa 
▼ery  etciting,  ber  head  shook  more  rapidly ;  which  impraaead 
ohildran  with  great  awe. 


»> 


Il8  Wnr  HIQHLAIVD  TAUB. 

Some  of  the  plirasM  ut  eTÌdently  TMMmbered,  and  nid  bj 
haart ;  the  maid's  wages,  for  initance ;  and  tlie  creatnret  tbal 
oame  to  the  wandering  danghtera.  The  Teieel  of  Baliam  oooiin 
often  in  Qaelio  atoriet,  and  I  oannot  make  ont  what  it  reallj 
means.  Ballav  ioobhlaivt,  teat,  of  ichor,  of  health,  seema  to 
be  the  meaning  of  the  words. 

In  former  days  the  kilns  were  not  alwajs  nsed  for  drying  com. 
It  is  related  that  one  of  the  first  excisemen  who  went  to  the 
West,  found  and  canght  a  large  party  of  men  kiln-drying  malt. 
He  made  a  seisure  of  coarse,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  when 
he  was  seised  himsel(  and  his  arms  tied  fast  behind  him.  B3a 
eyes  were  bound  also ;  and  then  he  was  led  to  the  kihi  and  aet 
down  near  the  fire ;  and  they  gaTe  him  the  malt  to  smell  and 
taste;  and  then  they  told  him  it  was  to  be  used  in  making 
whisky ;  and  then  they  gave  him  a  drop,  and  then  a  dram,  till 
the  ganger  was  so  drunk  that  they  left  him  there,  and  departed 
with  their  malt  kiln-dried  and  ground. 

This  I  have  heard  told  of  the  Tory  plaoe  which  Margaret 
Oonal  used  to  haunt,  and  of  a  time  when  she  might  haTe  been  a 
little  girl ;  I  cannot  vouch  for  the  truth  of  my  story,  but  the  kiln 
and  the  men  about  it  msy  be  seen  now ;  and  such  scenes  may  well 
aocount  for  the  preservation  of  wild  stories.  A  child  would  not 
easily  forget  a  story  learned  amongst  a  lot  of  rough  fanners,  seated 
at  night  round  a  biasing  fire,  listening  to  an  old  crone  with  pal- 
sied head  and  hands ;  and  accordingly,  I  have  repeatedly  heard 
that  the  mill,  and  the  kiln,  were  the  places  where  my  informants 
learned  their  tales. 

There  is  a  word  in  this  tale  which  the  narrator,  the  translator, 
the  transcriber,  the  dictionary,  and  the  *'  old  men,*'  have  failed  to 
explain. 

Sbkath  chuilbavach^  means  some  kind  of  bird,  and  she  haa 
twelve  "  poppies,'*  da  chuilkav  deuo.  The  narrator  maintains 
that  the  words  are  right  as  she  heard  them. 


XIV. 

THE  KING  WHO  WISHED  TO  MAERY 

HIS  DAUGHTER 

From  Ann  Darrooh,  Iilay. 

^HEKE  was  a  king  before  now,  and  he  married,  and 
J-  he  had  but  one  daughter.  When  his  wife  departed, 
he  would  marry  none  but  one  whom  her  clothes  would 
fit  His  daughter  one  day  tried  her  mother's  dress  on, 
and  she  came  and  she  let  her  father  see  how  it  fitted 
her.  It  was  fitting  her  welL  When  her  father  saw  her 
he  would  marry  no  woman  but  her.  She  went,  crying 
where  her  muime  was ;  and  her  foster  mother  said  to 
her,  "  What  was  the  matter  with  her  T  She  said, 
"  That  her  father  was  insisting  that  he  would  marry 
her.'*  Her  muime  told  her  to  say  to  him,  "  That  she 
would  not  marry  him  till  he  should  get  her  a  gown  of 
the  swan's  down."  He  went,  and  at  the  end  of  a  day 
and  a  year  he  came,  and  the  gown  with  him.  She  went 
again  to  take  the  counsel  of.  her  muime.  "  Say  to 
him,"  said  her  muime,  "  that  thou  wilt  not  marry  him 
till  he  gets  thee  a  gown  of  the  moorland  canacL"  She 
said  this  to  him.  He  went,  and  at  the  end  of  a  day 
and  year  he  returned,  and  a  go¥m  of  the  moorland 
canach  with  him.  "  Say  now  to  him,"  said  her  muime, 
"  that  thou  wilt  not  marry  him  till  be  brings  thee  a 
gown  of  silk  that  will  stamd  on  the  ground  with  gold 


f- 

9 


aao  wnr  rooHLAiVD  talr 

and  silyer.*'  At  the  end  of  a  day  and  year  he  retained 
with  the  gown.  "  Say  to  him  now/'  said  her  muime^ 
"  that  thou  wilt  not  many  him  till  he  brings  thee  a 
golden  shoe,  and  a  silver  shoe."  He  got  her  a  golden 
shoe  and  a  silver  shoe.  "  Say  to  him  now/'  said  her 
muime,  "that  thou  wilt  not  marry  him  unlesa  be 
brings  thee  a  kist  that  will  lock  without  and  within^ 
and  for  wliicli  it  is  all  the  same  to  bo  on  sea  or  on 
land."  When  she  got  the  kist^  she  folded  the  best  of 
her  mother's  clothes,  and  of  her  own  clothes  in  it. 
Then  she  went  herself  into  the  kist,  and  she  asked  her 
father  to  put  it  out  on  the  sea  to  try  how  it  would 
swim.  Her  father  put  it  out ;  when  it  was  put  out^ 
it  was  going,  and  going,  till  it  went  out  of  sight 

It  wont  on  shore  on  the  other  side ;  and  a  herd 
came  where  it  was,  intending  to  break  it^  in  hopes  that 
there  were  findings  in  the  chest  When  he  was  going 
to  break  it  she  called  out,  "  Do  not  so  ;"  but  say  to 
thy  father  to  come  here,  and  he  will  get  that  which 
will  better  him  for  life."  His  father  came,  and  he  took 
her  with  him  to  his  own  housa  It  was  with  a  king 
that  he  was  herd,  and  the  king's  house  was  near  him. 
"  If  I  could  get,"  said  she,  "  leave  to  go  to  service  to 
this  great  house  yonder."  ''  They  want  none,"  said 
the  herd,  "  unless  Uiey  want  one  under  the  hand  of 
the  cook."  The  herd  went  to  speak  for  her,  and  she 
went  as  a  servant  maid  under  the  hand  of  the  cook. 
When  the  rest  were  going  to  the  sermon  ;  and  when 
they  asked  her  if  she  was  going  to  it,  she  said  that  she 
was  not ;  that  she  hod  a  little  broad  to  bake,  and  that 
she  could  not  go  to  it  Wlien  they  went  away,  she 
took  herself  to  the  herd's  house,  and  she  put  on  a 
gown  of  the  down  of  the  swan.  She  went  to  the  ser- 
mon, and  she  sat  opposite  the  king's  son.  The  king^s 
son  took  love  for  her.     She  went  a  while  before  the 


TBM  KINO  WHO  WISHED  TO  MARRY  HIS  DAUGHTER,  lai 

scffmon  skailed,  she  leached  the  herd's  honse,  she 
ehanged  her  clothes,  and  she  was  in  before  ihem. 
When  ihe  rest  came  home,  it  was  talking  about  the 
gentlewoman  that  was  at  the  sermon  they  were. 

The  next  Sunday  they  said  to  her,  ''Was  she 
going  to  the  sermon  ;**  and  she  said,  ''That  she  was 
not^  that  she  had  a  little  bread  to  bake.**  When  they 
went  away,  she  reached  the  herd's  house,  and  she  put 
on  a  gown  of  the  moorland  canach  ;  and  she  went  to 
the  sermon.  The  king's  son  was  seated  where  she  was 
the  Sunday  before,  and  she  sat  opposite  to  him.  She 
came  out  before  them,  and  she  changed,  and  she  was 
at  the  house  before  them ;  and  when  the  rest  came 
bome^  it  was  talking  about  the  great  gentlewoman 
that  was  at  the  sermon  they  were.  The  third  Sunday, 
they  said  to  her,  "  Was  she  going  to  the  sermon  ;"  and 
she  said,  "That  she  was  not,  that  she  had  a  little 
bread  to  baka"  When  they  went  away,  she  reached 
the  herd's  house ;  she  put  on  the  gown  that  would 
stand  on  the  ground  with  gold  and  silyer,  and  the 
golden  shoe  and  the  silver  shoe,  and  she  went  to 
the  sermoa  The  king^s  son  was  seated  where  she  was 
the  Sunday  before,  and  she  sat  where  he  wa&  A 
watch  was  set  on  the  doors  this  Sunday.  She  arose, 
she  saw  a  cranny,  and  she  jumped  out  at  the  cranny ; 
bat  they  kept  hold  of  one  oif  the  shoes. 

The   king's  son   said,    "Whomsoeyer  that  shoe^'     '^* 
would  fit,  she  it  was  that  he  would  marry.'* 

Many  were  trying  the  shoe  on,  and  taking  off  their 
toes  and  heels  to  try  if  it  would  fit  them  ;  but  there 
were  none  whom  the  shoe  would  fit  There  was  a 
little  bird  in  the  top  of  a  tree,  always  saying  as  eyery 
one  was  trying  on  the  shoe,  "  Beeg  beeg  ha  nan  doot 
a  he^  ach  don  tjay  veeg  a  ha  fo  laiy  a  hawchkare." 
^  Wee  wee^  it  comes  not  on  theo ;  but  on  the  wee  one 


aai  WVr  HIOHLAHD  TAUB. 

under  tho  hand  of  the  cook."  When  he  oonld  gel 
none  whom  the  shoe  would  fit^  the  kin^fa  aon  laj 
down,  and  hia  mother  went  to  the  kitchen  to  talk 
over  the  matter.  "  Wont  you  let  me  aee  the  ahoe  V 
said  ahe  ;  "  I  will  not  do  it  any  harm  at  all  eTenta." 
"Thou  1  thou  ugly  dirty  thing,  that  it  ahould  fit  thee.** 
She  wont  down,  and  ahe  told  this  to  her  aon.  ''  la  it 
not  known,"  said  he,  "that  it  wont  fit  her  at  all 
events )  and  can  *t  you  give  it  her  to  please  her  V  Aa 
soon  as  the  shoe  went  on  the  floor,  the  shoe  jumped 
on  her  foot  "  What  will  you  give  me,**  said  ahe^  **  to 
let  you  see  the  other  one  V*  She  reached  the  heri'a 
house,  and  she  put  on  the  shoes,  and  the  dresa  that 
would  stand  on  the  floor  with  gold  and  silyer.  When 
she  returned,  there  was  but  to  send  word  for  a  minia- 
ter,  and  she  herself  and  the  king^s  son  manied. 


UBSQEUL. 


Bra  *tlod  righ  ann  roimhe  10.  *8  phÌM  e,  h  cha  robh  9Ìgt  tch  mi  mo 
nighean.  Nur  a  shiubhail  a'  bhean  cha  phbaadhe  gin  aeh  ta  Ihraag- 
radh  a  h-aodach  dhi.  Dh*  fbeuch  a  nighean  latha  aodach  a  mkthar 
nrra,  'a  thàinig  i  *a  leig  i  fhaicinn  d*a  h-athair  mar  a  fhreagradh  e  dbi. 
Bhae'freagairtedhi.  Bha  e 'freagairt  dhi  ga  math.  Norachima- 
aic  a  h-athair  i,  cha  phòaadh  •  bean  ach  i.  Chaidh  i  *caoineadh 
far  an  robh  a  muima,  *•  thuirt  a  muiroe  ritha  dh  bh*  orra.  Thuirt  Ì 
gun  robh  a  h-athair  a'  cur  roimhe  gum  pòsadh  e  i.  Thuirt  a  muhna 
rithe  Vhdh  ris  nach  pòtadh  e  i  gua  am  fàigheadh  e  dhi  guthann  da 
ehlòimhe  na  h-eala. 

Dh'  fholbh  e  's  an  ceann  la  la  bliadhna  thhinig  e^  *a  an  guthann  lela. 
Chaidh  i  *riUiisd  a  ghabhail>mhairl'  a  muime.  «*  Abair  ria,"  nra*  a 
muima,  "  naoh  pòa  thu  e  gua  am  faigh  e  dhuit  guthann  de  chanach 
an  t-altfibhe.  Thuirt  i  ao  rit.  Dh'  fholbh  a,  'a  an  caann  la  ia  bliadh- 
na thill  a  'a  guthann  de  chanach  an  t-altfibha  lela.  **  Abair  ria  a  nia^** 
urt'  a  muime,  **  nach  pbi  thu  a  gua  an  d'  their  e  't*  ionnsuidh  guthann 
siod'  a  ibeaMS  air  an  Ikr  le  h-òr  *•  le  airgiod.  An  ceann  la  ia  bliadhna 
thiU  a  leia  a  ghuthann.    **  Abair  ria  a  nia,"  ura*  a  muime,  **  nach  pba 


UBSQIUL.  22) 

tliii«  gu  an  d*  thoir  •  *t  lommiidh  bròg Mr  b  bròg  airgkl.**  Fhufar 
•  dlii  iMTÒg  òir  it  brbg  airgid.  *  Abdr  ris  a  nliy**  una  a  mnÌBM, 
"naefa  pòa  thv  a  mar  an  d*  thoir  a  V  ionnauSdh  dada  a  gMiinaa 
a  mach  'a  a  tdgh,  *8  ia  eoingtia  laatba  bhi  air  mvir  na  air  l!ir. 

Mur  a  fhnair  a  eliiada  phaiag  i  cbvid  a  b*  fliaàrr  da  dh'  aodach  a 
mkthar  *8  d*a  h-aodach  ffin  innta.  Chaidh  i  Min  an  tin  a  aCigh  *8  a' 
ehiida,  'a  dli*  iarr  Ì  air  a  li-ailiair  a  ear  a  madi  air  an  fhairga  fraeh 
dimxLT  a  ihnàmhadh  U  Chair  a  h-athair  a  mach  i.  Nar  a  ehaidh  a 
child*  a  mach,  bha  i  folbh  *8  a*  folbh  goa  an  daach  Ì  aa  an  f  aaailadb. 
Chaidh  i  air  tìr  air  an  taobh  eila,  *•  thàinig  baachailla  flu*  an  robh  i 
ainon  a  briadeadh,  an  dhil  gon  rabh  feadail  anna  a*  chiada.  Mar  a 
bha  a  *dol  a  "briadaadh  ghlaoidh  iaa,  *  Ma  dten  ach  abair  rit^aUiair 
tighinn  an  10»  *8  ghaobh  a  na  *8  fhahird  a  r*a  bheò.  ThUnig  'athahr 
*athogalaitg*athighf^i.  *8  ann  aig  righ  bha  Vn  bnachailla,  *a 
bha  tigh  an  righ  dlbth  air.  «Mam  fidgbinn,**  nra*  iaa,  •'dol  ab 
fittdadh  do  *n  tigh  mhòr  ao  thaU.**  «  Cba  *n  *aU  gin  a  dhith  orr*,**  nra' 
am  buachailla,  **  mar  am  bheil  ttf  dhith  orra  fo  Ihimh  a*  cbòcaira.** 
Chaidh  am  baachailla 'a  bbmidhin  a  air  a  aon^'a  chaidh  i  *na  aaarbhanta 
fo  Ihfanh  a*  chbcaira. 

Mar  a  bha  cich  a*  dol  do  *n  t-aearmoin,  *8  a  dh*  fheòraidh  iad  dhiaa 

an  robh  i  dol  ann,  thairt  1  nach  robh  gon  robh  baagan  arain  aica  r'a 

dheaaachadh,  *8  nach  b*  arrainn  i  dol  ann.    Mor  a  dh*  fbolbh  iadaan 

thag  i  arra  tigh  a'  bhaaehailla^  *8  chair  i  arra  gothann  da  chlbimha  na 

h  nala     Chaidh  i  do  *n  t  iaarmoin,*a  ahaidh  i  ma  choinnaamh  mae  an 

righ.    Ohabh  mac  an  r)gh  gaol  arra.   Dh*  fholbh  iaa  tacan  ma*n  do 

agaoU  an  i-iaarmofai ;  rhinig  I  tigh  a*  bhaaehaiUa;  dh*  atharraleh  I 

hi^odach;  *8  bha  i  ttigh  rompa.  Mar  a  thhinigcàch  dhadiaidh  *9  ana 

alg  fcxnradh  air  a'  bhaan  nasal  mhbr  a  bha  *b  an  t  ■aarmoin  a  bha 

lad.    An  athdhòmhnach  thairt  lad  ritha,  an  robh  idol  do  *n  t.«aar- 

flBoln,*8  thairt  i  nach  robh,  gon  robh  baagan  araIn  aIca  i^a  dhaaaach- 

adh.    Mar  a  dh*  fholbh  ladMuirUnigi  tigh  a' bhaaehaiUa,  1i  choir  I 

vra  gathann  da  chanach  an  t-aUlbha,  'a  chaidh  I  do  *n  t  aaarmoln. 

Bha  mae  an  righ  *na  ahaidha  tu  an  robh  iaa  an  dbmhnaeh  rofanhld» 

liahnldh  iaa  ma  choinnaamh.    Thkinig  I  mach  air  thoitaach  orra; 

dh*  atharraleh  I,  'a  bha  I  aig  an  tigh  rompa;  *•  nor  a  thklnig 

chch  dhachaidh  *a  ann  alg  iomradh  air  a*  bhaan  nasal  mbbr  a  bha  Inn 

t-aearmoin  a  bha  lad.    An  traaa  doashnach  thairt  lad  ritha  an  robh 

I  dot  do  *n  t  warmoin,  *8  thairt  I  nach  robh  *gan  robh  baagan  araIn 

aIca  r*a  dheaaachadh.  Mar  a  dh*  fholbh  iadaan  rhlnig  i  tigh  a  bhaaoh- 

aDIa ;  chair  I  arra  an  gathann  a  thtaaadh  air  an  Ihr  la  h-òr  'a  la 

h*  airglod ;  *8  a*  bfaròg  òlr  *8  a' bhr^  airgid ;  *8  ehaidh  I  *n  t-aaarmoin. 

Bha  mae  aa  righ  *m  ahaidha  fcr  aa  robh  Iaa  aa  dftmhaacih  folaridd 


224  WB8T  mOHLAND  TALB. 

1i  thnidh  Im  (kr  an  tohh  ttaiu  Cbaidh  fairs  'ohw  air  aa  docMa  m 
dòmhnach  to.  Dh*  Hxidh  Im.  Channalo  i  fraduig^  i^  Won  I  mMk 
air  an  fhmchaig,  ach  ghl^idh  iad  grèlm  air  ttf  da  na  lirògaa.  TInhi 
mao  an  i)gh  ti  sam  bith  d*am  freagradh  a*  tbròggnr  h*  I  'phòaadh 
aaan.  Bha  mòran  a'  feuchainn  na  bròig  orra,  *a  a*  loirt  dhln  nan  lad^ 
aran  agua  nan  tàiltean  fench  am  fraagradh  I  dhalbh,  aeh  cha  xolili 
gin  d*an  robh  a*  bhrog  a*  freagairt  Bha  aon  bcag  ua  bar  craoÌblM^ 
*8  a  daonnan  ag  lidh,  h-uila  U  bha  fiuchainn  aa  brbig  wia. 
"Big,  big,  cha  *n  ann  doit  a  thig,  ach  do  *n  ta  bhig  a  thn  fb 
Ikimh  a*  chbcaira.*  Nur  nach  robh  iad  a*  fiMKaina  gin  d'aa 
freagradh  a*  bhrbg  laidh  nuus  an  i^h,  *a  chaidh  a*  mhUhair  do  *n 
ehidain  a  dh'  iomradh  air  a*  gbnothach.  *<Nach  laig  aibh  fhakhin 
dòmha*  a*  bhrog,**  un*  iaa;  *'cha  dean  mi  coira  nrra  oo  dUn." 
"Thuaa  a  ruid  ghrannda,  ihalaichl  gnm  freagradh  I  dhnUaal" 
Cbaidh  i  tioa  *e  dh*  innU  i  to  d*a  mac  <*  Mach  *eU  fhioa,**  un*  aaaa^ 
**nach  freagair  i  dUi  oo  dhiu,*8  nach  fhaod  aibh  atoirtdhi  a  'toileacb 
adh.**  Cho  luath  *8  a  diaidh  a'  bhrog  air  an  urlar,  lanm a'bhròg  air 
a  ooUl  "  De  *bheir  aibh  dhbmha*,**  ura*  iaa^ " *a  an  ta  etta  taigatt 
fliaicinn  dulbb.**  Rabiig  i  tigh  a  bhuachailla,  *a  choir  wia  aa 
brbgan,  *§  au  troigan  a  iheaaadh  air  an  Ihr  la  or  *8  la  airgiod.  Nur 
a  thill  i  cha  robh  ach  floe  a  chur  air  miniatir,  *a  phba  i  fdin  is  mao  aa 

Tigh. 

Ann  Darroch  got  thii  tale  from  Margaret  Connel. 

The  cheit  meant  by  the  narrator  of  thia  Teraion  ia  deariy  the 
kiat,  which  every  well  provided  highland  lasa  takea  to  aerrioe. 
Such  kists,  and  such  lassies  seated  on  them,  may  be  aeen  in 
every  highland  steam -boat ;  and  still  finer  kists  may  be  aeen  In 
every  cottage  in  Norway,  where  wood  is  more  plentiful,  and  kiats 
are  on  a  larger  scale.  The  contents  of  all  are  alike ;  the  dothea 
of  generationa.  The  mother'a  Sunday  dreaaea,  and  the  grand- 
mother's, with  some  fine  shawl,  or^cap,  or  bonnet,  or  aomething 
hideous,  modem,  and  fa£hionable,  more  prized  by  far  than  the 
picturesque  old  plaid,  or  bright  red  cloi^  of  Scotch  women,  or 
the  endless  Norse  costumes,  which  are  going  out  of  fashion  In 
the  aame  way.  The  little  bird'a  note  ia  imitated,  and  I  have 
tried  to  apell  the  apoeoh  in  English. 

2d.  I  heard  a  version  of  this  in  the  laland  of  Sonth  Uiat, 
in  September  1859,  from  my  companion  MacCraw,  who  got 
it  from  a  girl  then  in   the  inn  at  the  Sound  of  Benbecula, 


THB  KING  WHO  WI8HBD  TO  HARRT  HI8  DAUOHTBR.   225 

HoBAO  A  OROTA  Braiv,  Mftrgeij  Whita  Coftto.  A  king  had  Ibor 
daaghters,  and  hit  wife  died,  and  he  laid  he  would  many  anj 
one  whom  hit  dead  wife*i  oloihea  would  fit  One  daj  the 
daoghtera  tried,  and  the  yonngeat  onlj  could  wear  them.  The 
Ung  aaw  them  from  a  window,  and  wiahed  to  many  her,  and 
■he  went  for  advioe  to  her  'mother'a  brother.  He  adviaed  her  to 
promiio  to  marry  the  king  if  he  would  hring  her  a  gown  of  hirda* 
down,  and  a  gown  of  the  coloura  of  the  iky,  woren  with  aiWer ; 
and  when  he  got  that,  a  gown  of  the  ooloora  of  the  atara,  woreu 
with  gold,  and  glaaa  dioea.  When  he  had  got  them,  ihe  eacaped 
with  all  her  clothes,  by  the  help  of  her  uncle,  on  a  filly,  wiUi  a 
magic  bridle,  ahe  on  one  aide,  and  her  cheat  of  dothea  on  the 
other.  She  rode  to  a  king's  palace,  hid  the  cheat  in  a  hill  under 
a  buah  of  ruahea,  turned  the  filly  loose,  and  went  to  the  palace 
with  nothing  on  but  a  white  petticoat  and  a  ahift.  She  took 
aerrioe  with  the  cook,  and  grew  dirty  and  ugly,  and  alepC  on  a 
bench  by  the  kitchen  fire,  and  her  work  waa  .to  blow  under  the 
great  caldron  all  day  long.  OneVday  the  king's  son  came  home, 
and  waa  to  hold  a  feast ;  she  went  to  the  queen  and  aaked  leave 
to  go,  and  waa  refused  because  she  waa  so  dirty.  The  queen  had 
a  basin  of  water  in  her  hand,  and  threw  it  at  her,  and  it  broke. 
She  went  to  the  hill,  took  out  the  dreaa  of  down  and  silTer,  and 
ahook  her  magic  bridle ;  the  fiUy  came,  and  ahe  mounted,  and 
rode  to  the  feast.  *'  The  king's  loii  took  her  by  the  hand,  and 
took  her  up  as  high  aa  any  there,  and  aet  her  on  his  own  lap ; 
and  when  the  feaat  was  over,  there  waa  no  reel  that  he  danced 
but  he  gave  it  to  her."  He  asked  her  whence  ahe  came,  and  she 
aaid,  from  the  kingdom  of  Broken  Basina ;  and  the  prince  aaid 
that  he  had  nerer  heard  of  that  land,  though  he  had  travelled  far. 
She  escaped  snd  returned  to  the  000k,  and  all  were  talking  about 
the  beautiful  lady.  She  asked  about  her,  and  waa  told  not  to 
talk  about  what  ahe  did  not  understand,  *'  a  dirty  little  wretch 
Bke  her."  Then  the  prince  had  another  feaat;  and  ahe  asked 
leave  again,  and  the  queen  refused,  and  threw  a  candlestick  at 
her,  and  it  broke,  and  she  did  aa  before.  She  put  on  another 
dreaa  and  went ;  the  king's  son  had  eight  men  on  each  side  of 
the  door  to  catch  her.  The  same  scene  went  on,  and  she  said 
ihe  came  from  the  country  of  Candleaticka— *'  Tn  mam  Coil- 
LBAftAB,"  and  escaped,  karing  a  glaii  ahoe.  Hmo  the  king'a  aon 

Q 


226  WBT  mOHLiHD  TALK. 

feU  liok  (of  oonrie),  and  would  onlj  many  the  woman  whom  te 
•hoe  would  fit ;  aikl  aU  the  Imdiea  came  and  out  off  tkeir  toaa  tad 
heeli,  but  in  Tain.  Then  he  naked  if  there  waa  none  other. 
Then  a  imall  creatore  pnt  hit  head  in  at  the  door  and  aaid,  "^If 
thon  didat  bnt  know,  the  whom  thoa  aeekeet  ia  vnder  the  eook.** 
Then  he  got  the  hiatory  of  the  baain  and  candleatick  finon  his 
mother.  The  ahoe  waa  tried  and  fitted,  and  he  waa  to  many 
Morag.  AU  were  in  deapair,  and  abnaed  her ;  hnt  ahe  went  ool 
to  her  oheat,  ahook  the  magio  bridle,  and  arrajed  heraeli^  and 
came  back  on  the  filly,  with  a  "  powney"  behind  with  the  ohMl. 
Then  all  there  that  had  deipiaed  her  fi^  on  their  kneea,  and  ahe 
waa  married  to  the  prince.  *'  And  I  did  not  get  a  bit  there  at 
the  wedding,"  aaid  the  girl. 

Thia  was  told  as  we  walked  along  the  road,  and  ia  bat  a  ahort 
ontline  of  what  was  told  me,  written  from  notea  made  in  the 
cTening.  The  man  aaid  that  the  girl  told  it  with  a  great  deal  of 
the  queer  old  language,  which  he  could  not  remember. 

The  girl  and  her  cheat  on  the  aame  horae  may  be  aeen  in  the 
Highlands.  The  girl,  in  her  white  ooata  and  abort  gown,  may  be 
seen  blowing  the  fire  in  highland  bni,  the  qoeen'a  likeneae 
might  be  found ;  and  the  feaat  is  a  highland  ball ;  the  filly  and 
the  magio  bridle  are  common  in  other  stories ;  the  incidents  of 
the  basin  and  candlestick  have  an  equiTslent  in  Norse ;  and  I 
got  them  from  a  woman  at  the  Sound  of  Barra  afterwards,  in  an«> 
other  story.  This  shows  what  may  be  lost  by  dignified  travelling. 
While  the  man  was  enjoying  himself  in  the  kitchen,  the  employer 
was  smoking  in  solitary  dignity,  up  stairs  in  his  bed-room,  writing 
a  journal,  and  utterly  unconscious  that  the  game  he  pnraned  waa 
so  near. 

I  haye  other  yersiona  of  thia  tale  from  other  aonroea,  and  may 
find  room  for  them  hereafter. 

The  beginning  is  clearly  the  same  aa  the  French  atory  of 
'*  Peau  d'  Ane,"  and  the  end  of  it  is  the  same  as  the  Norse  **  Katie 
•  •  Wooden  Cloak  ;*'  that  ia  the  same  aa  Mr.  Peter  Buchan*s  **  Baahen 
'  ./.Coatie"  (MSS.  collection)?  and  that  again  has  something  of 
"The  Sharp  Qrey  Sheep*'  in  Gaelic;  and  that  has  to  do  with 
half  a  dozen  stories  in  Qrimm ;  and  this  is  like  **  Cinderella,'* 
and  like  a  Scotch  story,  quoted  in  a  review  of  Chambers'  Nur- 
sery Rhymes  in  Tait's  Edinburgh  Magazine. 


•  I 

I 


I 


TBI  KINO  WHO  WI8HID  TO  MABBT  HI8  DAUOHTBR.    H? 

Id  fifteen  Tolamee  which  I  explored  one  finie  dnj,  to  tee  if 
Tail  oonld  nocoont  for  highland  storiee,  I  fonnd  few  popular  talee ; 
and  of  theee  taken  from  the  German,  which  I  did  find,  I  have 
found  none  in  the  weft,  to  for  aa  I  can  rememher.  Tait*i  etoriea 
are  poliahed,  hot  in  fome  of  the  original  poetry  legends  can  he 
traced. 

''Fbette  Oendron,**  in  the  collection  of  the  Conteeee  d' 
Anlnoy,  helongi  to  the  tame  claas ;  and  the  itorj  exieti  in  Stra- 
parola,  a  hook  which  is  now  W9tj  Htile  known,  and  which  de- 
ierree  to  he  forgotten,  hnt  which  oontaini  nseftil  information 
noTertheleea.  Thoee  who  hold  that  popolar  talea  are  derived 
from  hooki,  will  look  on  8traparola*i  ttorj  aa  tho  original.  It 
wai  printed  at  Venice  in  Italian  in  1667,  that  ia  298  /ears  ago. 
Thoee  who  held  that  popular  talea  are  preeerred  in  aU  conntriea, 
and  in  all  langnagea  alike,  will  hold  that  the  Italian,  German, 
FVench,  Norae,  English,  and  Gaelic,  are  all  Tertioni  of  the  tame 
atorj,  and  that  it  ia  aa  old  aa  the  common  stock  from  which  all 
theae  raoea  sprang. 

After  working  for  a  year,  and  weighing  all  the  endence  that 
has  come  in  mj  way,  I  have  come  to  agree  with  those  who  hold 
that  popular  tales  are  generally  pure  traditions ;  hot  in  order  that 
others  may  judge,  I  give  the  following  short  outline  of  the  story 
ia  Straparola.    FaTola  It. 

Tehaldo,  prince  of  Salerno,  promises  to  his  dying  wife,  that 
he  wiU  only  marry  another,  if  he  can  Ìbd  one  whom  a  certain 
ring  will  fit.  After  a  time  the  promise  heoomes  known,  and  it  is 
noised  ahroad  that  the  prince  wishes  to  marry  again.  Ladies 
come ;  hut  the  ring  is  too  small  for  one,  too  large  for  another,  and 
fits  no  one.  One  day,  Doralioe,  the  daughter  of  Tehaldo,  tries  on 
her  mother's  ring,  and  shows  her  fether  that  it  fits,  and  then  the 
same  strange  unnatural  wish  to  marry  his  daughter  seties  the 
Prince  of  Salerno  that  seises  the  fethers  in  the  French  and  Gaelic 
stories,  and  caused  the  Cenci  tragedy ;  hut  the  French  and  Gaelic 
stories  hsTo  something  shout  dresses,  which  the  Italian  has  not. 

Doralice  goes  to  her  old  nurse  for  adrice,  and  hides  herself  in 
a  wardrobe  which  none  could  open  from  without  but  the  nnrve, 
who  pots  in  a  supply  of  a  certain  liquor  of  which  a  spoonful, 
howeirer  small,  would  keep  a  person  alÌTe  for  a  long  time.  The 
wardrobe  is  described,  and  it  is  snch  a  one  as  would  be  found  in 


«a8  wnr  BiOHLàMD  talk. 

an  Italiui  palace.  Tba  lather,  haTÌng  mined  the  daughter. 
cannot  abide  the  right  of  the  wardrobe,  orden  it  to  be  oarried 
to  the  piaiaa  by  serranta,  and  it  la  aold  to  a  Oenoeee  merchaiit. 
He  oarriei  it  oTer  sea  in  a  ship  to  Britannia,  and  there  leUa  it  to 
the  king  '*  Qeneae.*' 

Here  let  me  remark  that  the  form  of  the  popular  tala  was 
exaoUj  the  tame  ai  it  ia  now,  nearly  three  bandied  yeara  agou 
The  scene  it  laid  somewhere,  a  long  way  off;  the  namea  aro 
those  which  the  narrator  happens  to  know,  misapplied;  the  oniar 
ments  are  those  about  him ;  and  the  incidenta,  within  a  certain 
range,  are  preserred  entire.  The  story  is  an  old  play^  with  new 
scenery,  and  decorations  in  cTcry  country,  and  with  fresh  aoUns 
in  every  age. 

King  Qenese  of  England  comes  on  board  the  shipk  and  Ìa 
taken  with  the  beauty  of  the  wardrobe,  buys  it,  and  has  it  taken 
to  his  own  chamber.  Tho  hidden  lady  oomea  out  when  aha  is 
left  alone,  adorns  tho  chamber,  aweeps  it  and  keeps  it  neat,  and 
at  last  she  is  discoyered,  and  the  king  marrioa  her. 

And  here  the  Italian  story  goes  off  on  quite  a  different  road. 
It  does  as  popular  tales  seem  to  do  every  where  else.  No  sooner 
has  a  seeming  origin  been  discovered  for  one  bit,  than  the  whole 
changes  into  something  else.  It  is  as  if  some  convulsion  were  to 
overturn  the  Vatican,  and  break  the  statues  once  more,  and  aome 
future  antiquary  were  to  try  to  fit  the  heads,  legs,  and  arms  to  the 
proper  bodies.  The  head  of  Apollo  would  not  do  for  the  Torso 
Famese,  but  it  might  seem  to  fit  some  strapping  Venus,  and  her 
arms  might  go  on  to  some  Apollino ;  and  so,  when  only  a  few 
fra  gments  of  popular  tales  areknown,  it  is  perfectly  hopeless  to 
try  to  restore  them.  If  all  the  fragments  of  all  tho  statues  in  the 
Vatican  were  gathered  together,  then  there  might  be  some  hope 
of  mending  them  ;  but  some  are  strongly  suspected  not  to  wear 
their  own  heads  even  now.  If  all  the  fragments  of  all  the  popu- 
lar tales  in  the  world  were  gathered,  something  might  be  recon- 
structed  ;  but,  unless  each  collector  is  content  to  bring  his  gather- 
ings wilbout  alteration,  the  restorer  will  havo  bard  work. 

But  to  return  to  Straparola.  The  king  marries  the  beautiful 
lady  who  keeps  his  room  so  tidy  in  so  myeterious  a  manner,  and 
they  have  two  sons.  The  wicked  Tebaldo,  wandering  over  the 
world  in  disguise,  arrives  in  Briiaiif,  knows  his  duugbter,  obtains 


XBM  KINO  WHO  WI8HID  TO  MABBT  HI8  DAUOBTIR.    129 

•ooets  to  the  palftoe,  niiirden  Uie  two  obildrtn,  and  loaTot  * 
bloodj  knife  in  the  Qoeen*a  poeeeaion.  An  Mirologer  b  ooo- 
■olted,  teUa  that  the  knife  will  be  foond,  and  it  !•  foond  in  the 
Qaeen*a  keeping ;  and  the  is  to  die.  The  aatrologer,  who  knowi 
ererything,  goee  off  to  the  old  nnree,  who  eomes  at  onoe  to  Eng- 
landf  and  telle  the  king  aU  that  baa  happened^  Tebaldo  ii 
caught,  and  torn  to  pieoee  bj  four  honei,  and  hif  fleih  given  to 
rabid  dogt. 

So  end  the  wicked  in  manj  Gaelio  tales.  **  He  wai  torn  be- 
tween hones,  bomed  amongst  fires,  and  his  ashes  let  Aj  with 
the  wind,**  is  the  end  of  one. 

The  French  story,  *'  Peav  d*  Ane,"  b  in  *'  les  Oontes  des  Fees 
de  Charles  Perranlt,**  the  wicked  father  was  sent  for  ''Robes,'* 
"Gonlenr  do  temps,*'  "  Conlenr  do  soleil,**  "  Oonleor  de  la  Lone,** 
and  got  them ;  and  then  for  a  donkey's  skin,  in  which  the  lady 
disguised  herself.  Bvt  then  the  French  story  goes  off  on  another 
road,  for  the  donkey  was  precioas  and  magi<»],  and  pieces  of  gold 
were  Iband  in  his  stall ;  and  he  belongs  to  another  class  of  stories, 
which  have  Oaelio  relations.    (Perranlt  died  1708). 

And  so  popolar  tales  are  woren  together  in  a  network  which 
teems  to  perrade  the  world,  and  to  be  fastened  to  everythbg 
in  it.  Tradition,  books,  hbtory,  and  mythology,  hang  together; 
no  sooner  has  the  net  been  freed  Irom  one  snag,  and  a  mesh 
gained,  than  another  mesh  is  discoTered ;  and  so,  nnbss  many 
hands  combine,  the  net  and  the  contents  will  nerer  be  btonght 
to 


XV. 
THE  POOR  BROTHER  AND  THE  RICH. 

From  Flora  MaolDtyro,  IiUy. 

THERE  was  a  poor  brother  and  a  rich  brother  be- 
fore now.  The  work  that  the  poor  one  had,  was 
to  be  at  drains;  he  hired  a  giUie,  and  they  had 
nothing  with  their  mealtime  but  to  take  it  without 
sauce.  "  Hadn't  we  better,"  said  the  gillie,  "  steal  a  cow 
of  thy  brother^s  lot  f '    They  went  and  they  did  thia 

The  rich  brother  was  taking  a  notion  that  it  was 
they  who  stole  his  cow ;  and  he  did  not  know  in  what 
way  he  could  contrive  to  find  out  if  it  were  they  who 
stole  her.  He  went  and  he  put  his  ^mother-in4aw  in 
a  kist^  and  he  came  to  seek  room  for  the  kist  in  his 
brothor^s  house ;  he  put  bread  and  cheese  with  the 
crono  in  the  kist;  and  there  was  a  hole  in  it^  in 
order  tliat  she  might  find  out  everything.  The  gillie 
found  out  that  the  crone  was  in  the  kist ;  he  wetted 
sacks  and  throw  them  on  top  of  the  kist;  the 
water  was  streaming  out  of  the  sacks  on  the  crone, 
and  she  was  not  hearing  a  word.  He  went^  in  the 
night,  where  the  crone  was,  and  he  said  to  her,  '*  Was 
she  hearing f  ''I  am  not,"  said  she.  "Art  thou 
eating  a  few  9"  "  I  am  not**  "  Give  me  a  piece  of 
the  cheese,  and  I  will  cut  it  for  thee.*'  Ho  cut  the 
cheese,  and  he  stuffed  it  into  her  throat  till  she  was 
choked.  The  kist  was  taken  home,  and  the  dead  crone 
in  ii  They  buried  the  crone,  and  they  laid  out  but 
little  on  her. 


»/ 


THB  POOR  BBOrmB  IHD  THBRIOH.  IJI 

In  the  nighty  said  the  poor  man's  gillie  to  his 
master,  "  Is  it  not  lamentable  that  such  and  such  linen 
should  go  with  the  crone  to  the  cell,*  while  the  children 
are  so  much  in  want  of  shirts  T  He  went^  and  he' 
took  a  spade  with  him,  and  he  reached  the  chnrch* 
yard.  He  dug  the  grave,  and  he  took  the  crone  from 
the  oofl&n  ;  he  took  off  her  the  tais  dress,  he  threw  her 
on  his  bac^  and  he  came  to  the  house  of  the  rich 
brother ;  he  went  in  with  her,  and  he  placed  her 
seated  at  the  fireside,  and  the  tongs  between  her  two 
feet  When  the  maid  servant  rose  in  the  mornings 
she  fell  in  a  faint  when  she  saw  the  crone  before  her. 
The  rich  brother  thrashed  his  wife  because  of  her 
mother  saying,  "  that  she  was  about  to  bring  him  to 
bare  ruin.**  He  went  to  the  house  of  his  poor  brother 
and  told  that  the  crone  had  come  home.  **  Ah  ha  I  ** 
said  the  gillie,  "  because  thou  didst  not  spend  enough 
on  her  living,  thou  wilt  spend  it  on  her  dead  ;  I  saw 
the  like  of  this  before ;  thou  must  lay  out  a  good  deal 
on  her.** 

They  bought  a  good  lot  of  things  for  the  funeral, 
and  they  left  the  one  half  of  it  in  the  house  of  the  poor 
brother  and  they  buried  the  crone  again.  '^  Is  it  not 
lamentable,*'  said  the  poor  brother's  gillie  to  his  mas- 
ter, **  that  such  a  bt  of  linen  should  go  on  the  crone, 
while  thou  art  so  much  in  want  of  a  shirt  thyself  f* 
He  went  to  the  cell  that  night  again,  he  raised  the 
crone,  he  took  off  her  the  tais  clothes,  and  he  took  her 
with  him  on  his  back  ;  he  went  into  the  house  of  the 
rich  brother,  as  was  usual,  and  he  set  the  crone  stand- 
ing at  the  end  of  the  dresser,  with  her  claw  full  of 
seeds  from  the  dish  of  sowens,  as  if  she  were  eating  it 
When  the  man  of  the  house  saw  her  back  in  the 
morning,  he  thrashed  his  wife  soundly,  because  of  her 

•  ** KiLL^**  etO  a amaSi  ehfvoh;  htaot  appU«d  to ehafob-jards. 


2)2  WBT  mOHLAND  TAUB. 

yj  mother.  He  went  then  to  the  honae  of  hit  poor 
brother,  and  he  told  that  the  crone  had  come  home 
again.  ''  Aha  1**  said  the  gillie,  ''becanae  thou  didat  not 
spend  money  on  her  living,  thou  wilt  spend  it  on  her 
dead ;  I  saw  the  like  of  this  before.*'  ''  Go  thoo,  then, 
and  lay  out  a  good  deal  on  her,  for  I  am  tired  of  her/' 
said  the  man.  He  bought  a  good  lot  for  the  crone*e 
funeral,  and  he  took  the  one  half  to  his  mastei^e 
house.  They  buried  the  crone.  In  the  night,  said 
the  gillie  to  his  master,  ''  Is  it  not  lamentable  thai 
such  linen  should  go  with  the  crone  to  the  cell,  while 
I  myself  am  in  sudi  want  of  a  shirt"  He  took  him- 
self to  the  cell,  he  raised  the  crone,  he  took  off  her  the 
tais  dress,  he  put  her  on  top  of  him,  and  he  reached 
the  rich  brother^s  house.  He  did  not  get  in  this 
journey,  so  he  went  with  her  to  the  stable,  and  he  tied 
her  on  top  of  a  year-old  colt  When  they  rose  in  the 
morning,  they  were  well  pleased  when  they  did  not 
/  see  the  crone  before  them.  He  was  going  from  home; 
he  went  out  to  the  stable,  and  he  took  tiie  mare  with 
him ;  but  he  never  pei^^ived  that  the  crone  was  on 
top  of  the  year-old.  When  he  went  away  on  top  of 
the  mare,  after  him  went  the  year-old  with  the  crone 
clattering  on  top  of  him.  He  turned  back  when  he 
saw  the  crone,  and  ho  was  like  to  kill  his  wife  this 
tima  He  went  to  his  brother's  house  and  he  told 
that  the  crone  had  come  back  again. 

'*  As  thou  didst  not  spend  money  on  her  living,** 
said  the  gillie,  ''  thou  must  spend  it  on  her  dead." 

"  Go  and  lay  out  as  thou  wilt  on  her,"  said  he  to 
the  gillie,  "  but  keep  her  away." 

He  went  this  time  and  he  bought  a  good  lot  for  the 

crone's  funeral,  and  he  invited  every  one  in  the  place. 

They  buried  the  crone  again ;  and  the  poor  brother 

^      was  as  wealthy  as  the  other,  by  reason  of  the  funerals. 


UBSOIUL.  «33 


UBSQEUL. 

BiiAbrkthtbboebdagwbriUliairlMairtMiehMiBroiaibt  M.  *8t^i 
olMlr  A  W  aig  tn  fbew  bhoehd  a  bhl  dewMdh  dhraintao.  Dh* 
fhMdaidh  e  gUK  *•  cha robhmU  tea  le  MB  ttodh  ach  *ga *ghabliaU 
Iw.  "Nach  flMàrra  dhniaB,"  «n*an  gUk;  «b6  deehvid  do  blvathar 
aghoid.**  Db*  fholbh  lad  agiia  riim  lad  to.  Bha'm  brUhak  bMdri- 
•aeli  a'  gabbail  amhaniii  gur  h-lad  a  gbokl  a*  bbb,  *•  eha  robh  fhloa 
«%•  dè  *n  dòigh  a  dbèaoadh  e  air  fJMHaina  a  mach  an  lad  a  ghold  i. 

Dh*  fholbh  6  *i  choir  a  *kiihhthair  chtfila  aan  an  dada,  *a  thhinig  a 
dh*  iarraidh  mm  da  *n  diiada  ann  an  Cigh  a  bhrhthar.  Chvir  a  arao 
ia  chiaa  leia  a*  ehaillich  anna  a*  chiade,  *8  hha  toQ  nrra,  air  alt  g«* 
BÒehadh  iaa  do  na  h-nfla  gnoChodL  Mhothaich  an  glOa  gim 
ypbh  a*  rhaiìlaach  anna  a*  chJtda.  Fhlineh  e  laici  ia  thilg  e  air  msÌBB 
na  dad*  lad.  Bha  'n  i-niiga  *inithadh  aa  na  aale  air  a*  diaOlidi,  *a 
aha  robh  i  'dvinntinn  iraid.  Chaldh  a  annaan  oidhdia  tar  an  robh  a* 
diaÌHaafh,  'athnirt  a  ritha  an  robh  i  dBinntiBB.  «  Cha  *n  *ail»**  va* 
ita.  ««Aaibhdlthn*g  iUMadha*bheag?**  •'Cha*n*dL'*  «Thoir 
dhbmhta  pkoaa  da  *n  diktoa  *8  gcarraldh  mi  dhnit  a.**  Ghahrr  a  *n 
ahlaa,  *a  dhion  a  *na  mninaal  a  got  an  do  thaohd  a  L  Chaidh  a*  chiada 
thoirtdadiaidh,'ia'diailleaehroaibhinnta.  Thtolaie  lad  a*  chaUU 
aaeh,  'i  dia  d*  rhm  lad  adi  ooadaa  bcag  nrra.  Anna  an  okllidia  tiralri 
gOla  an  fliir  bhodid  r^a  rohalghatir, «  Nadi  ddbnaadi  a  Wthid  dod 
da  dh»  anart  a  dhd  Ida  a*  diaOUeh  do  *n  diUl,  *•  dM  fronail  '•  a  tha 
■a  phiadaan  dr  Itettan.** 

Dh*fhdbh  a*8thngaldaaphd;  rUnig  a*n  dagh;  chladhaiehe 
*■  naigh  s  thng  a  *chaillaach  aa  a  dilita-hMh ;  thvg  a  dhi  an  t-ala-aod- 
aeh;  thilg  aair  a  ndrainn  i;  *a  thhinig a  gn  tigh  a'bhrhthairbhMÌri- 
aaeh.  Chaidh  a  High  laatha,  *a  diair  a  I  *na  aiddha  aig  a*  gfaadbhan, 
*9  an  doCha  aadar  a  da  dioia.  Nor  a  dh*  dridh  an  aaarbhaaCa  anna 
a*  nbaidinn  thnit  i  ann  am  paiaoanadll^  nnr  a  dmmaio  i  *diai]laadi 
rolmpa.  OlMbh  am  brhthalr  baartaadi  air  a*  bhaan  airMo  a  mhthar 
1[  rhdh  gon  robh  I  brath  a  agrloa.  Chaklh  a  gn  tigh  a*  bhrhthair 
bhodid,  'a  dh*  innii  a  gvn  d*  thhinig  a*  dwUlaach  jdhadiiMh  « A 
hat**  ara'angOla,  "  O naeh  do  dioad  tha  r'a  baò  e  eoadaidh  thar'a 
■arbh  a  I  Chnanaie  miM  Idtliid  aa  roimUd.  faaauiidh  tn  ooadaa 
math  a  dhaanadh  nrra.** 

Cbaannaldi  lad  caid  mhath  da  ghnothvÌdMan  airMo  an  tbrraldhy 
'a  dh'fhhg  lad  an  dana  Idth  dhath  ann  an  tigh  a*  bhrathair  bhoehd. 
Tildaia  iad  a*  ahaUkadi  a  rithiad.    ^Haeh  dfcnuch/nwa  gOk 


2)4  wnr  moHLAND  talis. 

'  bhrathair  bhochd  r'a  mhaighttir, «  a  Ulthid  liod  do  dh*  mart  m  dlnl 
air  a*  chailUch,  '■  cho  fnimail  *■  a  tha  thu  Mln  air  lana." 

Chaidh  e  do  *n  ehill  an  okUwhe  tin  a  lithiad.  Tliog  a 'èhaiDaMl^ 
*■  thug  t  dhith  an  t-aU-aodach,  *b  tfmge  Icii  air  a'  mhainn  L  Chaidhe 
adgh  do  thigh  a'  hhrkthair  bhoairtich  mar  a  V  àbhala^  *•  efaair  • 
'chailleach  *iia  aeaaamh  alg  eaaim  an  dreuelr,  'a  a  eròg  Iha  do  chUtk 
aa  an  t-toJtheach  ehabhrach,  mar  gum  hiodh  i  *ga  JUiaadb.  Nvr  a 
ehaimaio  fear  an  tigha  air  a  h-aia  i  anna  a  mhaidinn,  ghahh  a  air  a* 
bhaan  gn  h-lomlan  airaon  a  mkthar.  Chaldh  a  *n  dn  do  thl|^  a' 
bhrathar  bhochd,  *a  dh'  innia  e  gon  d*  thàinig  a*  challiaach  dhaeh- 
aidharithiad.  «  A  ha  I  **  ura' an  gUla^  «"  O  nach  do  cboid  thn  r** 
bob  e,  ooidaidh  thu  r'a  marbh  a.**  Chonnaie  miaa  laithid  ao  rolmliU» 
**  Folbh  thuaa  mata  *■  daan  ootdaa  math  nrra  chionn  tha  mlM  wfjlÈh 
dhL** 

Gheannaich  o  eoid  mhath  than  tbrradh  na  eaflUehy  ^  thng  a  ^ 
dama  leith  thun  tigh  a*  mhai^iatir.  Thiolalo  lad  a'  chaiHnarh,  Anna 
an  oidhche  unf  an  gillo  r*a  mhaighttir,  **  Nach  dtfianaach  a*  laUhld 
aiod  do  dh*  anait  a  dhol  leto  a*  chaiUich  do  *n  ehlU,  >a  ml  ffin  cho 
foaman  air  lèlna.**  Thug  a  'ohìll  air;  thog  a  ehaUlaaeh;  thng a  dhl 
an  t-aia-aodach ;  choir  a  air  a  mhuinni;  *a  rhinig  a  tigh  a'  bhrhthar 
bhaairtcach.  Cha  d*  fhoair  a  atigh  air  an  t^nbhal  ao.  Chaldh  a 
laatha  do  'n  atkbull,  *a  cheangail  e  i  air  moinn  bliadhnaeh  aidi.  Nnr 
a  dh'  tìridh  lad  *a  a*  mhaidinn  blia  lad  ga  toilichtab  nor  nach  fliac  lad 
a*  chaillaach  romhpa.  Bha  eaan  a'  dol  o'  n  tigh.  Chaldh  a  maeh  do 
*n  athbull,  *a  thug  e  leia  an  capull,  ach  cha  do  mliothaich  a  gun  robb 
'diaillaaeh  air  muinn  a  bbliadlinaich;  nor  a  dh'  fholbh  aaan  air 
muinn  a  chapuill,  aa  a  dheigh  a  bha  *m  bliadhnaeh,  'a  a'  diaillaach  a* 
glaigaileia  air  a  mbuinn.  Thill  eair  aia  nor  a  chunnalo  a  chailiaach, 
'a  thaab  a  bhaan  a  mharbhadh  air  an  oair  ao.  Cliaidh  a  do  thigh  a' 
bhrathar,  'a  dh'  innia  a  gon  d'  thainig  a'  chaillaaoh  dhaohaidh  a  rith- 
lad.  <*0  nach  do  chuad  thu  r'a  baò  a,"  ara'  ao  giUa,  ^faomaldh 
to  'choad  r'a  marbh."  *<  Tbeirig  agoa  daan  do  roglia  ooadoa  rltha^* 
ara'  eaan  ria  a'  gfaille,  **  ach  cum  air  folbh  L"  Chaidh  e  air  an  t- 
aiobhail  ao  agoa  cheannaich  cold  mliath  airaon  tòrradh  na  eaillich 
*8  choirfe  gach  duina  bha  'aan  hita.  Thiolalo  ihd  a'  chailleach  a  rithiad, 
'a  bha  'm  brhtliair  bochd  cho  beairtaach  ria  an  fhaar  alia  air  tàillaabh 
nan  tòrradh. 


One  Jamaa  MacQoeen,  who  lived  at  Timeagan,  near  Kfl- 
meny,  but  who  ia  not  living  now,  gave  this  to  one  Flora  Mac- 
Intyre,  at  Kilmenj,  who  told  it  to  Hector  MacLean. — May  1869. 


URSQKUL.  235 

Tbif  ttory  !•  not  like  anj  other  ib«t  I  know.  It  ii  ono  of  ft 
kind  which  ia  common,  in  which  mortab  alone  pUy  a  part.  Sorao 
are  hnmoroai,  and  tome  free.  One  snch  haa  been  Tertified  bj 
Allan  Ramsay,  page  620,  toI.  8  ;  and  ia  neari/  the  aame  aa  Tom 
Totherhonae,  the  Norae  tale. 

TheexpenaiTe  foneral  waa  once  truly  highland ;  and  the  invita- 
tion to  all  the  world  characteriatio.  It  uaed  to  be  told  of  one  auch 
Ibneral  party,  that  they  dropped  the  coflBn  ont  of  a  cart  on  the 
way  over  a  atrand,  and  never  found  it  out  till  they  got  to  the 
ohnrohyanL  They  returned  and  finiahed  the  funeral,  bnt  went 
home  afterwarda  Tory  drank ;  the  aona  ahoating  **  Horo  I  it*a  the 
eariin*a  wedding.'*  The  foneral  dinner  waa  within  my  memory, 
and  atiU  may  bo,  a  aolemn  feaat  8och  toaata  aa  **  Comfort  to 
the  diatreaaed,"  and  **  The  memory  of  the  deoeaaed,"  were  drank 
ia  aolemn  ailence ;  and  the  wh<^  matter  waa  oondvcted  with 
gravity  and  deooram,  bnt  with  profnae  and  neoeaaary  hoapitality, 
for  the  foneral  gneata  had  often  to  travel  great  diatancea,  and  the 
ooffin  had  to  bo  carried  many  milea.  '  No  Highlander,  if  hia  firienda 
ean  help  it,  b  buried  anywhere  bat  at  home ;  ooffina  may  be  aeen 
on  board  the  ateamera,  conveying  to  the  outer  ialanda^the  bodiea 
of  thoae  who  have  died  on  the  main  land.  It  ia  a  poetic  wiah  to 
be  bnried  amongat  frienda,  and  one  that  b  in  (nil  foroe  in  the 
Highlanda  to  thb  day.  The  onree  of  Sootland  may  oceaaionally 
intnide  even  on  anch  aobmn  ocoaaiona ;  bnt  a  ftineral  b  almost 
always  decorooaly  oondncted.  In  aome  places,  aa  I  am  told,  a 
piper  may  atiU  be  aeen  at  the  head  of  the  funeral  prooeaatoo, 
pbyiog  a  dirge.  There  b  no  want  of  raverenoe,  but  death  b 
treated  aa  an  ordinary  event.  I  have  aeen  a  man'a  tombatoiie, 
vrith  a  blank  for  the  date,  atanding  at  the  end  of  hb  houae,  while 
he  was  quite  welL 

It  waa  lately  aaid  of  a  man  who  went  home  to  die,  **  He  took 
hb  own  body  home  ;*'  and  ao  he  did. 

There  b  aomethiog  mythological  about  the  old  woman  who 
win  not  reat,  becaoae  enough  haa  not  been  laid  out  on  her  iuneral. 
It  may  be  some  remnant  of  a  notioo  of  purgatory ;  but  I  auapect 
it  b  aomething  heathen. 

Romana  had  to  pay  their  passage,  perhaps  Celts  had  to  do  so 
Ukswbs. 


.IJ, 


XVI. 

THE  KING  OF  LOCHLIira  THREE 

DAUGHTERS. 

From  Neill  Qilliaa,  fiiherman,  near  InTeraiy. 

THERE  was  a  king  over  Lochlin,  once  upon  a  time, 
who  had  a  leash  of  daughters  ;  they  went  ont  (on) 
a  day  to  take  a  walk ;  and  there  came  three  giants^ 
and  they  took  with  them  the  daughters  of  the  king^ 
and  there  was  no  knowing  where  they  had  gone. 
Then  the  king  sent  word  for  the  .sheanachy,  and  he 
asked  him  if  he  knew  where  his  lot  of  daughters  had 
gone.  The  sheanachy  said  to  the  king  that  three 
giants  hod  taken  thom  with  them,  and  they  were  in 
tiie  earth  down  below  by  them,  and  there  was  no  way 
to  get  them  but  by  making  a  sliip  that  would  sail  on 
'f  seaandjcmd  ;  and  so  it  was  that  the  king  set  out  an 
order,  any  one  who  would  build  a  ship  that  would  sail 
on  sea  and  on  land,  that  he  should  get  the  king^s  big 
daughter  to  marry.  There  was  a  widow  there  who  had 
a  leash  of  sons  ;  and  the  eldest  said  to  his  mother  on 
a  day  that  was  there,  "  Cook  for  me  a  bannock,  and 
roast  a  cock ;  I  am  going  away  to  cut  wood,  and  to 
build  a  ship  that  will  go  to  seek  the  daughters  of  the 
king.'*  His  mother  said  to  him,  ^'Wliich  is  better 
with  theo,  the  big  ibannock^  with  my  cursing,  or  a 
little  bannock  with  my  blessing  V*     ''  Give  me  a  big 


TBM  KIHO  Of  L0aBLIlf*8  THIUD  DAU^RIBB.      2)7 

bannock,  it  will  be  small  enongb  befoie  I  build  a 
•hip.**  He  got  a  bannock  and  he  went  away.  He 
arrired  wbeie  theie  was  a  great  wood  and  a  rÌTer,  and 
there  he  sat  at  the  side  of  flie  river  to  take  the  ban- 
nock. A^great  Umisg  came  out  of  the  river,  and  ^ 
she  asked  a  pàrt~  of  the  bannock.  He  said  that  he 
would  not  give  her  a  morsel,  that  it  was  littie  enough 
for  himselfl  He  b^gan  cutting  the  wood,  and  every 
tree  he  cut  would  be  on  foot  again ;  and  so  he  was  tiU 
the  night  cama 

When  the  nig^t  came,  he  went  home  moumfidy 
teaifiil,  blind  sorrowful  His  mother  asked,  ''How 
went  it  with  thee  to-day,  son  T  He  said  ''That  it 
went  but  black  ill;  every  tree  I  would  cut  would  be  on 
loot  again.**  A  day  or  two  after  this  the  middle 
brother  said  that  he  himself  would  go ;  and  he  asked 
his  mother  to  cook  him  a  cake  and  roast  him  a  cock ; 
and  in  the  very  way  as  happened  to  his  eldest  brother, 
so  it  happened  to  him.  The  mother  said  the  veiy 
same  thing  to  the  young  one ;  and  he  took  the  little 
bannock.  The  Urmsg  came,  and  she  asked  a  part  of 
the  cake  and  the  cock.  He  said  to  her,  "That  she 
should  get  thai"  When  the  Urmsg  had  eaten  her  own 
share  of  the  cake  and  of  the  cock,  she  said  to  him 
"That  she  knew  what  had  brought  him  there  as  well 
as  he  himself^  but  he  was  to  go  home ;  but  to  be  sure 
to  meet  her  Uiere  at  the  end  of_a  day jmd^  year ;  and«^ 
that  the  ship  would  be  ready  at  the  end. 

It  was  thus  it  happened  :  At  the  end  of  a  day 
and  a  year  the  widow's  young  son  went^  and  he  found 
that  the  Urmsg  had  the  ship  floating  on  the  river,  fully 
equipped.  He  went  away  then  with  the  ship,  and  a 
leash  of  gentlemen,  as  great  as  were  in  the  kingdom, 
that  were  to  marry  the  dan^ters  of  the  king.  They 
were  but  a  shoft  time  sailh^  when  tbqr  saw  a  bmh 


238  Wm  HIQHLAND  TAUB. 

drinking  a  river  that  was  thera.      He  asked  hin^ 
**  What  art  thou  doing  there  T     ^  I  am  drinking  up 
this  river."     ''  Thou  hadst  hetter  oome  with  me^  and  I 
will  give  thee  meat  and  wages,  and  hetter  work  than 
that"     ''I  wiU  do  that,"  said  he.     Thej  had  not 
gone  far  forward,  when  thej  saw  a  man  eating  a  stoi 
in  a  park.     "  What  art  thou  doing  there  T  said  hA. 
"  I  am  here  going  to  eat  all  the  stots  in  this  park.** 
''  Thou  hadst  hetter  go  with  me^  and  thou  wilt  get 
work,  and  wages  hetter  than  raw  flesh."     **  I  will  do 
that,"  said  he.     They  went  hut  a  short  distance  when 
they  saw  another  man  with  his  ear  to  the  earth*  ^  What 
art  thou  doing  there  1"  said  he.     "  I  am  here  ^^ftring 
the  grass  coming  through  earth.*'     *'  Go  with  me^  and 
thou  wilt  get  moat,  and  hetter  wages  than  to  be  there 
^vith  thy  ear  to  the  earth."    They  were  thus  sailing 
back  and  forwards,  when  the  man  who  waa  listening 
said,   "Tliat  this  was  tlie  place  in  which  were  the 
king's  daugliters  and  the  gianta"     The  widow's  son^ 
and  the  three  that  had  fallen  in  with  them,  were  let 
down  in  a  creel  in  a  great  hole  that  was  there.      Thej 
roaclied  the  house  of  the  big  giant     "  Ha  1  ha !  **  said 
he,  the  giant,  "  I  know  well  what  thou  art  seeking 
hero.     Thou  art  seeking  the  king's  daughter,  but  thoa 
wilt  not  get  that,  unless  thou  hast  a  man  that  will 
drink  as  much  water  as  I."     He  set  tlie  man  who  was 
drinking  tlie  river  to  hold  drinking  against  the  giant  ; 
and  before  he  was  half  satisfied  the  giant  burst     Then 
tliey  went  where  the  second  giant  woa     *'  Ho,  both  I 
ha,  hath  1"  said  the  giant,  **  I  know  well  what  sent 
thee  here  ;  thou  art  seeking  tlie  king's  daughter ;  but 
thou  slialt  not  got  her,  if  thou  hast  not  a  man  who  will 
eat  as  much  flesh  as  L"     Ho  set  the  man  who  was  eat- 
ing tlie  stot  to  hold  the  eating  of  flesh  against  the 
giant ;  but  before  ho  was  half  satisfied  the  giant  burst 


TBM  KIKO  OF  LOaBUH>l  THRD  DAU0HTIB8.     «39 

Then  he  went  where  the  third  giant  was.  *^  Haio  1 " 
said  the  gìant^  "  I  know  what  set  thee  here ;  but  thou 
wilt  not  get  the  king'a  daughter,  by  any  meana,  nnleea 
thou  ata^eat  a_day  andayear  by  me  a  agalag^  (alaTo, 
servant).  ''  I  will  do'lEat^'*  said  he  ;  and  he  sent  up 
in  the  basket)  first  the  three  men,  and  then  the  king's 
daughters.  The  three  great  men  were  waiting  at  the 
mouth  of  the  hole  till  they  should  come  up^  and  they 
went  with  them  where  the  king  was ;  and  they  told 
the  king  that  they  themselves  had  done  all  the  daring 
deeds  that  there  were. 

When  the  end  of  a  day  and  year  had  come,  he  said 
to  the  giant)  ''  That  he  was  going."  The  giant  said, 
''  That  he  had  an  eagle  that  would  set  him  up  to  the 
top  of  the  hole."  The  giant  set  the  eagle  away  with 
him,  and  five  stots  and  ten  for  a  meal  for  her ;  but  the 
eagle  went  not  half  way  up  through  the  hole  when  she 
had  eaten  the  stots,  and  she  returned  back  again. 

Then  the  giant  said  to  him,  ^  Thou  must  remain 
by  me  another  day  and  year,  and  then  I  will  send  thee 
away."  When  the  end  of  this  year  came  he  sent  the 
eagle  away  with  him,  and  ten  stots  and  twenty.  They 
went  this  time  well  further  on  than  they  went  before, 
but  she  ate  the  stots  and  she  turned  back.  ''Thou 
must,"  said  the  giant,  "  stay  by  me  another  year,  and 
then  I  will  send  thee  away."  The  end  of  this  year 
came^  and  the  giant  sent  them  away,  and  three  score  of 
stots  for  the  eagle's  meat ;  and  when  they  were  at  the 
mouth  of  the  hole  the  stots  were  expended,  and  ahe 
was  going  to  turn  back  ;  but  he  took  a  steak  out  of 
his  own  thigh,  and  he  gave  this  to  the  eagle,  and  with 
one  spring  she  was  on  the  surface  of  the  earth. 

At  the  time  of  parting  the  eagle  gave  him  a  whistle, 
and  she  said  to  him,  "  Any  hard  lot  that  comes  on 
thee,  whistie  and  I  will  be  at  thy  sideL"    He  did  not 


J 


240  WUT  mOEULHD  TALBL 

allow  his  foot  to  stop^  or  empty  a  paddle  oat  of  hit 
shoe,  till  he  reached  the  king's  big  town.  He  went 
where  there  was  a  smith  who  was  in  the  town,  and  he 
asked  the  smith  if  he  was  in  want  of  a  gillie  to  '^bom 
the  bellows.  Hie  smith  said  that  he  was.  He  was 
but  a  short  time  by  the  smith,  when  the  king^a  big 
daughter  sent  word  for  the  smith.  ''I  am  hearings"  aaid 
she,  "  Uiat  thou  art  the  best  smitli  in  the  town ;  bat  if 
thou  dost  not  make  for  me  a  golden  crown,  like  the 
golden  crown  that  I  hod  when  I  was  by  the  giant^  the 
head  shall  be  taken  off  thee."  The  smith  came  home 
sorrowfully,  lamentably ;  and  his  wife  asked  him  his 
news  from  tlie  king's  house.  ''There  is  but  poor 
news,"  said  the  smith ;  ''  the  king's  daughter  is  asking 
that  a  golden  crown  shall  be  made  for  her,  like  the 
crown  that  she  had  when  she  was  under  the  esrth  bj 
tlie  giant ;  but  what  do  I  know  what  likeness  was  on 
the  crown  that  the  giant  hod."  The  bellows-blowing 
gillie  said,  ''  Let  not  that  set  thee  thinking  ;  get  thoa 
for  me  enough  of  gold,  and  I  will  not  be  long  making 
the  crown."  The  smith  got  of  gold  as  he  asked,  with 
the  king's  order.  The  gillie  went  in  to  the  smithy, 
and  ho  shut  the  door ;  and  he  began  to  splinter  the 
gold  asunder,  and  to  throw  it  out  of  tlie  window. 
Each  one  tliat  came  tlie  way  was  gathering  tlio  gold, 
that  the  bellows  lad  was  hurling  out  Here,  then, 
he  blew  the  wliistle,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
the  eagle  cama  ''Go,"  said  he  to  the  eagle,  "and 
bring  here  Uie  golden  crown  tliat  is  above  the  big 
giant's  door."  Tlio  eagle  went,  and  she  was  not  long 
on  the  way,  and  the  crown  (was)  with  her.  He  gavo 
the  crown  to  the  smitli.  Tlie  smith  went  so  merrily, 
cheerily  with  the  crown  where  the  king*s  daughter 
was.  "  Well  then,"  said  she,  "  if  I  did  not  know  that 
it  could  not  be  done,  I  would  not  believe  tliat  this  is 


TEB  KUrO  OF  L0CHIaIH*8  TBSSB  DAU0HTIB8.      24I 

not  the  crown  I  had  when  I  was  with  the  big  giant.** 
The  king*8  middle  daughter  aaid  to  the  smith,  **  Thou 
wilt  looee  the  head  if  thou  doet  not  make  for  me  a 
ailver  crown,  like  the  one  I  had  when  I  waa  by  the 
giant.**  The  smith  took  himaelf  home  in  nuaery ;  but  ^ 
hia  wife  went  to  meet  him,  expecting  great  news  and 
flattery ;  bat  so  it  waa,  that  the  gillie  said  that  he 
woold  make  a  silver  crown  if  he  could  get  enou^  of 
silver.  The  smith  got  plenty  of  silver  with  the  king*s 
order.  The  gillie  went^  and  he  did  as  he  did  befora  He 
whistled ;  the  eagle  came.  **  Go,**  said  he,  ''  and  bring 
hiUier  here  to  me^  the  silver  crown  thai  the  king's 
middle  daughter  had  when  she  was  by  the  giant.** 

The  eagle  went^  and  ahe  was  not  long  on  the 
journey  with  the  silver  crown.  The  smith  went 
merrily,  cheerily,  with  the  silver  crown  to  the  king's 
daughter.  ^Well,  then,**  said  she,  ''it  is  marvel- 
lously like  the  crown  I  had  when  I  was  by  the  giant** 
The  king's  young  daughter  said  to  the  smith  that 
he  should  make  a  copper  crown  for  her,  like  the  cop- 
per crown  she  had  when  she  was  by  the  giant  The 
smith  now  was  taking  courage^  and  he  went  home 
much  more  pleasantly  this  turn.  The  gillie  began  to 
splinter  the  copper,  and  to  throw  it  out  of  each  door 
and  window ;  uid  now  they  were  from  each  end  of 
the  town  gathering  the  copper,  as  they  were  gathering 
the  silver  and  gold*  He  blew  the  whistle,  and  the 
eagle  was  at  hia  side.  **  Oo  back,**  said  he^  **  and  bring 
here  hither  to  me  the  copper  crown  that  the  king's 
young  daughter  had  when  she  was  by  the  giant**  The 
eagle  went,  and  she  was  not  long  going  and  coming. 
He  gave  the  crown  to  the  smith.  The  smith  went 
merrily,  cheerily,  and  he  gave  it  to  the  king's  young 
daughter.  ''Well,  thenl**  aaid  ahe,  "I  would  not 
that  tliis  waa  not  the  veiy  crown  that  I  had 


24S  WBT  HIGHLAND  TAUB. 

when  I  was  by  the  giant  undeigrcrandy  if  thexe  mate  m 
way  of  getting  it"  Heie  the  king  said  to  the  amitl^ 
Uiat  he  must  tell  him  where  he  had  learned  down 
making,  '*  for  I  did  not  know  that  the  like  of  thee  wee 
in  Uie  kingdom.**  '*  Well,  then,"  said  the  smith, 
**  witli  your  leave,  oh  king,  it  was  not  I  who  made  the 
crowns,  but  the  gillie  I  liave  blowing  tiie  beUowa*" 
"  I  must  see  Uiy  gillie,"  said  the  king^  **  till  he  makes 
a  crown  for  myself" 

The  king  ordered  four  horses  in  a  coach,  and  thai 
they  sliould  go  to  seek  the  smith's  gillie  ;  and  when 
the  coach  came  to  the  smitliy,  the  smith's  gillie  was 
smutty  and  dirty,  blowing  the  bellows.  The  horse 
gillies  came,  and  they  asked  for  the  man  who  was 
going  to  look  on  tlie  king.  The  smith  said,  ^  That 
was  ho  yonder,  blowing  the  bellows."  *'  Oov !  oor  I  ** 
said  they ;  and  Uiey  (set)  to  catch  him,  and  throw  him 
lieod  foremost  into  the  coach,  as  if  they  had  a  dog. 

Tliey  went  not  far  on  thoir  journey  when  he  blew 
the  whistle.  The  eaglo  was  at  his  side.  ''  If  ever 
thou  didst  good  for  me,  take  me  out  of  this,  and  fill  it 
full  of  stones,"  said  ho.  The  eaglo  did  this.  The 
king  was  out  waiting  on  the  coacli ;  and  when  the  king 
opened  the  door  of  the  coach,  he  was  like  to  be  dead 
witli  the  stones  bouncing  on  top  of  him.  There  was 
catching  of  the  horse  gillies,  and  hanging  tliem  for 
giving  such  an  affront  to  the  king. 

Here  the  king  sent  other  gillies  with  a  coach ;  and 
when  they  reached  the  smithy,  "  Oov  t  oov ! "  said 
they.  "  Is  this  the  black  thing  the  king  sent  us  to 
seek  1  They  caught  him,  and  they  cast  lum  into  Uie 
coach  as  if  they  had  a  turf  peat  But  they  went  not 
far  on  their  way  when  he  blew  the  whistle,  ond  tlie 
eagle  was  at  liis  side  ;  and  ho  said  to  her,  **  Take  me 
out  of  tliis,   and  fill   it  witli  every  dirt  thou  const 


TBM  KINO  OF  L00HLIN*8  THBIB  DAUOHTIBa.       243 

get**  When  the  coach  reached  the  king^s  palace,  the 
king  went  to  open  the  door.  Each  dirt  and  mbbiah 
fell  about  the  king^a  head*  Then  the  king  was  m  a 
great  rage,  and  he  ordered  the  horse  gillies  to  be  hanged 
immediately.  Here  the  king  sent  his  own  confidential 
servant  away ;  and  when  he  reached  the  smithy,  he 
caught  the  black  bellows-blowing  gillie  by  the  hand. 
«'  The  king,"  said  he,  ''  sent  me  to  seek  thee."  ''  Thou 
hadst  better  clean  a  little  of  the  coal  off  thy  face." 
The  gillie  did  this ;  he  cleaned  himself  well,  and  right 
well ;  and  the  king's  servant  caught  him  by  the  hand, 
and  he  put  him  into  the  coach.  They  were  but  a  short 
time  going,  when  he  blew  the  whistle.  The  eagle  came ; 
and  he  asked  her  to  bring  tiie  gold  and  silver  dress 
that  was  by  the  big  giant  here  witiiout  delay,  and  tiie 
eagle  was  not  long  going  and  coming  with  tiie  dress. 
He  arrayed  himself  with  the  giant's  dresiL  And  when 
>  they  came  to  the  king's  palace,  the  king  came^  and  he 
opened  the  door  of  the  coach,  and  there  was  the  very 
finest  man  the  king  ever  saw.  The  king  took  him 
in,  and  he  told  the  king  how  it  happened  to  him  from 
first  to  last  The  three  great  men  who  were  going  to 
marry  the  kin^s  dau^ters  were  hanged,  and  the  y 
kin^s  bi^^daughter  was  given  him  to  marry ;  and 
they  made  them  a  wedding  the  length  of  twenty 
nights  and  twenty  days  ;  and  I  left  them  dancing,  and 
I  know  not  but  that  they  are  cutting  capers  on  the 
floor  till  the  day  of  to-day. 


80BULAGHD  AIR  KIOHBANAN  RIQH  LOGHLAINN. 

^  Bha  rtgh  Air  Loohlainn  aon  luir  tig  ta  robh  triulr  BigbMiiaB.  Chaidh 
lad  A  mach  UUm  ghftbhaO  irUd,  afof  ibUnig  ir)  fiunhAÌrran.  *« 
tkag  lad  lèo  BighMtum  ta  rifli,  *9  cha  robh  floa  o'hita  an  dtach  lad. 


244  WUT  HIOHLAMD  TAUB. 

Chuir  tn  rtgh  (lot  to  do  air  to  t  ■nanirhitdh  aigt^  *»  dh'  fhate^ 

Aich  6  dbtth,  ^'An  robh  ilos  aigt  c'àiu  an  daach  a  dwid  aifli- 

eanan?**    Tbuirt  aa  Manachaldh  rit  an  rtgli  gtt  1i  d-Umf  tri  fiuali* 

airean  leo  iad,  agui  gun  robh  lad  anna  an  talinnh  ga  h-teaal  Aea,  *m 

nach  robh  dòigh  air  am  faotainn,ach  la  long  a  dh^ianainh  a  ahtMadh 

air  mair  '■  air  ùr,"    Agus  'ae  bha'nn  gim  do  choir  an  righ  brdngh  m 

roach,  **  Co  air  bith  a  thogadh  long  a  aheòladh  air  moir  %  nir  th; 

ga*  faighaadh  a  nighean  mlibr  an  rtgfa  ri  phbaadh.*'    Bha  bnntnoh 

an  tin  aig  an  robh  trihir  mhao,  agoa  thubhafat  am  ftar  iw  ahlna  ri 

'mhkthair  latha  bha  *n  tin,  **  Bruich  dhòmhia  bonnach  *b  ròiftt  ooQ* 

each ;  tlia  mi  fidbh  a  ghearradh  collla  'a  a  thogall  long,  a  thdid  adh* 

Urraidh  nigheanan  an  rìgh.**   Thoirt  a  mhkthair  rii^ «  Cò*cn  a*  fAir 

leat  am  bonnach  mòr  la  m*  mhallachd  na  *m  V^"*^h  ìftt^  la  m* 

bheannachd."  **  Their  dhòmhaa  'm  bonnach  mhr ;  bithkih  a  bang  mm 

leòir  mn  'n  tog  mi  long.*     Fhuair  a  *m  bonnaoh  'a  dh*  fbalbh  •. 

lUinig  a  far  an  robh  coilla  mhòr  agua  abhainn.    Shnidh  a  an  ain  ri 

taobh  na  h-abliunn  a  gl&abhail  a*  bhonnalch.    Thhinig  hnilag  mhòr 

a  miicli  aa  an  abliuinn,  agua  dh'iarr  i  pkirt  do  'n  bhonnach.    Thnbb* 

airt  eaan  nacli  d'  tliugadh  a  mir  dhi,  gun  robh  a  baag  na  laòlr  dha 

fJin.  Tbbiaich  a  air  gaarradh  na  ooilla^  ^  na  h-uila  craobh  a  ghaair* 

adh  a,  bhiodh  i  air  a  boon  a  rithiat;  'a  bha  a  mnr  ain  goa  an  d* 

thttinig  an  oidhcha.    Nuair  a  thhinig  an  oidhcha,  ehaidh  a  dhaeli-. 

aidh  dubhach,  deurach,  dalla-bhrònach.    D'  fhoighniclid  a  mhhthajr 

dlieih,  **  l)e  mar  a  ehaidh  dhuit  an  diugh,  a  mhic"    Thnbhairt  aaaa, 

nach  deach  ach  gu  dubh  dona  **  Na  h-uila  craobh  a  ghaarrainn, 

lihiixlli  i  air  a  boim  a  rithiat."    loitha  na  dhh  an  d^gh  ao,  thubhairt 

am  l)r2ithair  meadlioiiach,  **  gn'  faibhadh  a  flidin,  '•  dh*  iarr  a  air  ft 

n^lihthair,  bonnach  a  bliruich  •'  coileach  a  rbstadh ;  agua  air  a*  chcart 

dòigli  mar  thacliair  d'a  bhrhthair  a  bu  shine,  tliachair  dhhaan.  Thubli- 

airt  a  mhhtliair  a'  clieart  ni  ris  an  fliear  òg,  agus  ghabh  a  *m  bonnach 

beat;.    Tlittinig  an  hruisg,  a'  dh'iarr  i  pkirt  do  *n  bhonnach  a'  do  *k& 

choileach.  Hiubhairt  e  rithe,  **  Gu  *m  faigheadh  i  ain."  Nuair  a  dh'ith 

an  iiruisg  a  cuid  fbdin  do  'n  bhonnach  'a  do  *n  choileach,  thubhidrt  i 

ris,  *'  Gun  robli  fios  aice-aa  dè  'thug  an  aud  e  co  maith  ris  fh^in,  ach 

esan  adhol  dachaidh,  ach  a  bbi  cinnteach  ise  a  choinnaachainn  an  and 

an  ceann  latha  's  bliadhna,  agua  gu  'm  bitheadh  an  long  deaa  air  a 

cliuann.**    'Sann  mar  ao  a  tliachair.    An  ceium  latba  'a  bliadlina  dh* 

fhalbli  mac  òg  na  bantraich,  agua  fhuair  e  'u  long  air  ankmh  air  an 

abhuinn  fuidh  Ikn  uidheam  aig  an  Uruiag.    Dh'  fhalbh  a  an  ain  lain 

an  luing,  agu4  triUÌr  dhaoine  uaisle  cho  mòr  *aa  bha  'aan  riòghachd,  a 

bha  gu  ni^lieanan  an  righ  a  phbaadh.    Cha  robh  iad  ach  goirid  a 

scoladh  an  uuir  a  chunnaic  iad  fear  ag  51  auas  abhuinn  a  bha  'ain 


8OKULA0HD  AIR  MIOHIANAN  RIOH  LOOHLAINN.     245 

Dh*  fheòraich  Ud  dbeCh,  «'De*tli«tha  ddmamh  ta  tin?*  «TIia 
•g  Ò1  tnas  na  b-aibhna  to."  ""S  feàrr  dhait  fidbh  learn  fh^  H 
bbdr  mi  dhoit  biwlli, '■  tiuiriwUl, '■  obair  a'l  fekrr  DA  tin.**  "Klml 
•in,**  art*  aaan.  Clia  deaeliaidh  iad  Cm!  air  an  agbaidli  got  am  foo  lad 
fear  eile  ag  itbaadh  dhamh  ann  am  pàire.  "  Da  tha  thn  daanamh  an 
•fnr  Thabbairt  nan.  "Tba  mi  *n  to  a*  dol  a  dh*  itbaadb  na  tha 
dhaimh  tnns  a*  phbire  to.**  "  *8  Ibbrr  dbnit  fidbh  laam  fb^n,  *■  gbeibh 
tha  obair  *■  toaraadal  a*fe  fehrr  na  ftòU  bmh.*  •*  Ki  mi  tfai.**  thabhairt 
atan.  Cba  daaeh  iad  ach  goirid  dar  *  a  ehannaio  lad  fear  aile  *ia* 
dUaas  ri«  an  taiamh.  "  De  tha  tha  dahaamh  an  tin  ?**  Thabhairt 
«Mn,  *■  Tha  mi  an  ao  a*  daintlnn  an  fheòir  a*  tigiiinn  troi  *n  tal- 
amh.**  «  Faibh  laam  fh^  *■  gbeibh  tha  biadh*a  tuanwdal  a*t  fehrr 
na  bbi  *n  sin,  *■  do  chinas  ria  an  talamh.**  Bha  iad  mar  so  a*  seMadh 
air  an  ais  s^  air  an  agliakibnaair  a  thabhairt  am  fear  a  bha*  g  eisteaehd, 
"  Qa  'm  be  sad  an  t-hlta  anns  an  robh  nigheanan  an  i)gh  agaa  na 
famhairean."  Chaidh  mac  na  bantraich  agas  an  tribir  a  thachaJr  orra 
a  leigeO  siòa  ann  an  cliabh,  ann  an  toll  mòr  a  bha  *n  sin.  RUnig  iad 
tigh  an  fhamhair  mhbir.  **  Hal  ha  I  **  thairt  esao, "  tha  fioa  agam  gn 
maith  de  'tha  tha  *g  iarraidh  an  so;  tha  tha  'g  iarraidh  nighean  an 
rìgli,  ach  cha  *n  fhaigh  tha  sin  mar  *eil  fear  agad  a  dh*  bias  airead 
oitgeriomaa.**  Choir  esao  am  fear  a  bhaag  Ò1  na  h-aibbnea  chamafl 
61  ria  an  fhamhair,  *s  man  robh  esan  leith  bhaidheaeb,  sghin  am 
famhair.  Chaidh  iad  an  sin  far  an  robh  an  dama  fiunbair.  **  Ho  I 
HothI  Hat  Hath  I**  thabhairt  am  fiimhair,  **tha  floa  agamsa  gn 
maith,  da  chair  an  so  tha ;  tha  thn  'g  iarraidh  nighean  an  rtgh,  ach 
cha  *n  fhaigh  thn  I  mar  'eil  iisar  af^ad  a  dh*  itbaas  alrsad  feòla  rinnu 
sa.**  Chair  esan  am  iisara  blia'g'  itheadh  nan  damh  a  chnmail 
itheadh  febla  ria  an  fhamhair  so :  ach  mon  robh  esan  Mth  bhaidheaeb; 
sghin  am  Cunhair.  Chaidh  iad  an  sin  fiir  an  robh  an  treas  fiunhair. 
"  Haio  t  **  are*  am  famhair,  **  tha  floa  agamsa  de  choir  an  ao  tha,  ach 
cha  *n  fhaigh  tha  nighean  an  itgb,  Idir  mar  ftm  thn  agamsa  latha,  *e 
bliadhaa  ann  a*d*  sgalaig.**  «*  Ki  mi  sin,**  thabhairt  esan.  Choir  a 
soas  ann  an  cliabh  an  toiseach  na  tri  daolne,  agaa  an  sin  nlgli- 
aanan  an  righ.  Bba  *n  triiiir  dhaoina  mbra  aig  benl  an  toill 
a*  Mtbeamb  gas  an  d*  thlgeadh  iada  niòa,  agaa  dh*  fhalbh  iad  leo fiv 
an  robh  an  ilgh,  *s  dh*  innis  iad  do  *n  rtgh  gn  *m  b*  iad  f^  a  rfan 
gach  oile  thapachd  a  blia  ann. 

**Naair  a  tbàfaiig  coann  latha  *s  Miadhna,**  thnbhaiH  esan  ris  am 
flunhair,  *'gan  robh  e  *falbh.**  Thabhairt  am  famhair,  *  6an  robh 
Bolaira  aige-ean  a  chnireadh  aoaa  e  gv  mollach  an  taUL**    Chair  am 


•  Dam,  flrooi  an  trhth*  tha  tioM. 


2  46  WUT  HIGHLAND  TlUB. 

fAmhair  to  lolaira  air  lUth  Uh,  igv  ehlf  dalsk  dlMif  air  mm  1km 
dhi ;  ach  chadeachoaioUira  kith  luai  troi  'n  lol^  Biair  a  dhllk  i  Bft 
daimh,  agui  thOl  i  air  a  h-aia  a  rithlit  Tbabbaiit  am  fiudiair  lia  wm 
•iD,  *'Feuiiiaklh  ta  fkntainn  acainia  latha  *»  bliadhaa  «0%  iffVB 
ciiiridh  mi  *n  tin  air  fidbh  Uiii.**  Nuair  a  thàinig  ombb  aa  bHadhaa 
io,chiiirealrfiabhaiiiolairaleli^agiitdakiidaiaihfhidbMd.  Chaidk 
lad  air  an  am  to  gu  maith  ni  b*  fhaida  air  an  agbaftdh,  aa  chaidh  ted 
roimh,  ach  dh'ith  i  na  daimh,  'b  thill  i  air  a  h-aia.  «  Ftama  to/* 
an*  am  famhair,  **  flmtaion  acaraia  bUadhaa  all%  agvaa  dm  cniiidh 
mi  air  falbh  thu."  Thhinlg  etana  na  Mlidhna  tis  agn*  dioir  am 
famhair  air  folbh  iad,  agui  tri-flchead  damh  air  aon  biadh  do  *ii  lolaim. 
An  uair  a  bha  iad  aig  beiil  hrd  an  tuiU,  thairig  na  daimh»  *■  bha  i  *dol 
a  thilltadh ;  ach  thug  esan  slaoig  at  a  laia  fh^n,  '■  thag  a  ao  da  ^a 
iolaira,  agot  le  aon  lenm  bha  i  air  narhdir  talamh.  An  am  dial 
achaidh  thug  an  iolaira  dha  Ibadag  agui  thnbhairt  i  fla,  *  croaldh- 
chha  Mm  bith  a  thig  ort,  laig  fead  agua  bithidh  miaa  ri  d*  thaddi.* 

Cha  do  leig  esan  ttad  d*a  choit  na  lodan  at  a  bhròlg  gaa  $m  df 
rhinig  a  baila  mòr  an  rtgh.  Chaidh  a  fiir  an  robh  gobhainn  a  bha 
W  bliailt,  V  dU*  fkeòraich  e  do  "n  ghobha,  «*  An  lobh  gllla  a  dhlih 
air,  airton  leideadh  a*  bliuilg  ?*'  Thnbhairt  an  gobha  "Qnii  robh.** 
Cha  robh  e  ach  goirid  aig  a'  ghobha,  noair  a  chair  nighaaa  mhbr  mm 
r^gb  Act  air  a*  ghobba.  **  Tba  mi  'cluintinn,*  an^  itt,  **  ^'ur  tata  gobh- 
ainn  a*s  fekrr  'aa*  bbaile;  ach  mar  dean  thu  dbòmhaa  crhn  6ir  colt- 
ach  ria  a'  chrbn  òir  a  bh'  agam  nuair  a  bha  mi  aig  an  fhamhair,  thAd 
an  ceann  a  tboirt  dhioU*  Tbkinig  an  gobha  dhachaidh  gu  dabha^ 
iirònacli,  'a  dh'  fhoighneachd  a  bhean  deth,  à4  a  naigheachd  a  tigh 
an  rìgh  7  **  Cha  *n  'eil  ach  naigbeachd  bochd,**  thuirt  an  gobha 
**  Tba  'nighean  ag  iarraidh  crbn  òir  a  dheknamh  dhi  ooitach  ria  a 
chrbn  a  bha  aice  an  uair  a  bha  i  fo  *n  talamh  aig  an  fliamhair; 
ach  gu  de'doa  a  tba  agamsa  de  'n  ooalaa  a  bha  air  a*  chrhn 
a  bha  aig  an  fhamhair."  Thubbairt  gille  a^ididh  a'  bhuilg, 
**  Na  cuireadh  ain  amaontinn  ort  Faigh  thuaa  dhòmhaa  nia  gu  laòlr 
do  db*  or,  'a  cha^bhi  miae  fada  a*  dehnamh  a  chrhin."  Fhuair  an  gobha 
na  dh'  iarr  e  dh*  6r  le  òrdugh  an  i)gh.  Chaidh  an  gille  atigh  do  'n 
cheàrdaich,  'a  dhUin  e  *n  'dorua,  agua  thòiaich  e  air  apealgadh  an  òlr 
aa  a'  chdile,  'aa  thilgeadh  a  mach  air  an  uinneig.  Bha  gach  naaeh  a 
thigeadh  an  rathad  a'  tional  an  òir  a  bha  gille  a'  bhuilg,  a'  amUideadh  a 
mach.  Shtfid  e  'n  ao  an  flieadag,  agua  ann  am  prioba  na  ahil,  thkinig 
an  iolaire.  **  Falbh,"  thubbairt  eaan  ria  an  iohdre,  **  agua  thoir  an  ao  an 
cHin  òira  thafoaceann  an  doruia  aig  an  fhamhair  mhòr.**  Dh'fhalbh 
an  iolaire,  'a  cha  b'  fhada  bha  i  air  a  turua,  'aan  crìin  aice.  Thug  e  ^ 
cHin  do  'n  gbobhainn.    Dh'  fhalbh  an  gobhaion  gu  aubhad^  aunnd- 


80SULÀ0HD  AIB  HIOHBAHAH  RIOH  LOGHULUnr.     247 

•ch  !•!■  A*  chriiB  br  ta  robh  nigliMai  •■  ligh.  *  MaU,*  thttbhAÌrt 
be, "  mnr  b*e  gum  bhefl  flot  agftm  naefa  gtbhadb  e  dÀaamh,  eha 
chrtidinii  Bach  •  to  an  criu  a  bha  agam  •■  uair  a  bha  mi  lait  an 
fhamhair  mhbr.**  Thnbhalrt  nighaaa  mhcadhonadi  an  righ  ria  a* 
ghobhainn,  **  GaOIIdh  ta  *b  oeaan  mar  dean  tiin  crbn  airgid  dbbmhta 
colCaeh  ria  an  fhcar  a  bh*  agam  an  nair  a  bha  ml  alg  an  fhamhair.** 
Thog  an  gobha  an  tigh  air  lb  aprodid,  ach  cfaaidh  a  bbcan  'na 
cholnneamh  an  dbil  ri  naighaacihd  mbr  *a  broognn ;  ach  'ae  bh*  ann 
gun  d*  thmbhafat  an  gfUa^  **  gvn  dahnadh  caan  erhn  airgid,  na  *m 
CfUghadh  a  na  labir  do  dh*  airgiod.**  Phoalr  an  gobha  ni'a  laòir  do 
dh*  airgiod  la  òidngh  an  righ.  Chaidh  an  giOa  *a  rinn  0  mar  a  rinn 
aroimha.  Laig  0  Ibad;  Uiainig  an  iolafaa.  «Falbh,**  thnbhalrt 
asan,  **  agna  thoir  thagam-aa  an  ao  an  erhn  airgid  a  bha  aig  nighaaa 
mbaadhonach  an  righ  an  nair  abhai  alg  an  fhamhair."  D*  fhalbh 
an  iolaira,  *a  cha  b*  fhada  bha  I  air  a  tnraa  Ma  a*  ehrhn  airgid. 
Dh*  fhalbh  an  gobhalnn  gn  anbhaeh,  annndaeh  Ma  a*  ehrhn  airgid 
gn  nighaan  an  righ.  "Mata,**  thnbhalrt  iae,  "tba  a  anabarraeh 
eoUach  ria  a*  ehrhn  a  bh*  af^am  dar  a  bha  ml  alg  an  fhamhair.** 
Thabhairt  nlglwan  òg  an  righ  ria  a*  ghobba,  **  £  a  dhahnamh  erhn 
eopair  dh*  iaa,  coltaefa  ria  a  ehrhn  ehopair  a  bha  alei^  noair  a  bha  I 
alg  an  fhamhair.**  Bha  *n  gobha  an  ao  a*  gabhaO  mianieh,  *a  ehaidh 
a  dhaehaidb  mòran  nl  bn  toUlehta  air  an  trò  ao.  Thòialeh  an  glUa 
air  apaalgadh  a*  ehopair,  'a  air  a  thflgaadh  a  maeh  air  gadi  dorua  'a 
ninnaag.  Bha  lad  an  ao  aa  gadi  oaaan  do  *n  bhalla  a'  tioa- 
ail  a*  ehopair  mar  a  bha  lad  a'  tlonall  an  Mr  li  an  airgid. 
8hM  a  *n  fhaadag,  *a  bha  *n  lolalfa  ri  'thaobh.  « Raeh  air 
t*  aia,**  thnbhaift  aaan,  **  agna  thob  an  ao  thngamaa  an  erhn  eop* 
air  a  bha  alg  nighaan  òg  an  righ  an  nair  a  bha  I  alg  an  fhamhair.** 
Dh*  fhalbh  an  lolali^  *a  eha  fobh  I  fiida 'dol  *aa*  tighlnn.  Thngo*n^ 
erhn  do  *n  ghobhainn ;  dh*  fhalbh  an  gobhalnn  gn  anbhaeh,  aonnd- 
aeh,  *a  thng  a  do  nighaaa  òg  an  righ  a.  "Mata,**  thnbhalrt  ba,"  aha 
ehraidinn  naeh  b*a  ao  an  daarbh  ehrhn  a  bha  agam  an  naira  bha  ml 
alg  an  fhamhab  lb  *n  talamh,  na'm  biodh  dòigh  ab  fhaoCalnn.** 
Thabhairt  an  righ  an  ao  rb  a*  ghobhalan,  «*  Qn*  fenmadh  a  Innaaadh 
dhdaan,  edita  an  d*  ionnaaleh  a  dahnamh  nan  erhn,  rir  eha  robh  ioa 
agam  gnn  robh  do  Mthid  'aan  rioghaehd.**  "iUUC  thabhalH  an 
gobha,  "  b  *r  eaad,  a  rigli,  cha  wàUm  a  rinn  na  erhin,  ach  an  gOb 
*tha  agam  a*  aAdaadh  a*  bhnOg.**  «  Pfnmaidh  mi  do  ghilT  fhaidnn,*' 
thnbhalrt  an  itgh, "  gna  an  dten  a  erhn  dhomh  fb^fai.**  Dh*  brdalch 
an  righ  caithlr  alch  aan  an  (concha),  *a  lad  a  dhol  a  dh*  larraldh  glUa 
a*  ghobha.  An  naba  thhinig  an  (concha)  a  dh*  lonnaaldh  na  cahrdach, 
bhagilba*ghobhagndnbh,8nladia'a«daadha*bhaUg.  TbhtaOgna 


248  Wnr  HIQHLAHD  TALBL 

ffillMui  Meb,  '■  dh*  fhrànlch  Ud  air  ton  •■  dafaM  a  Vba  'di4  mAmOt^ 
•ina  an  righ.  Thuliiiairi  an  gobha  ga*m  b^  and  a  thaH  «'  tHà 
eadh  a*  bhailg.  <'Ubbt  UbbI"  thuirt  iadaaa^'atadabaiiMdidair, 
*■  *ga  thilgeadh  an  oombair  a  ohinn  a  atigb  don  (cboacbaX  mnr  fVB 
bitbaadb  cb  aca.  Cba  deacb*  Ud  fiida  air  an  tnma  dar  a  ahAI  aaaa 
an  fbeadag.  Dha  *n  iolaire  ri  *tbaobb.  "  Ha  linn  tbn  liraiii  riank 
dbomh,  tbvir  mile  a  macb  at  to,  agua  Aon  e  Ikn  cbbMÌi,"  thnbbalrt 
etan.  Rinn  an  ioUira  to.  Bha  *n  rtgb  a  macb  a  feitbaadb  a  chòidi^ 
agua  an  ualr  a  dh*  fboagail  an  rtgh  donia  a*  cbòidM^  tbaab  a  bhi 
marbh  leia  oa  clachan  a'  dòrtadh  air  a  mhuin.  Cbaidb  beJraacbd  air 
na  gillean  eacli,  'aan  crocbadh  airton  a  lelthid  do  tbbuMdlt  a  thabhaht 
do  'n  rtgb.  Cbttir  an  i)gb  an  to  air  fiilbh  gillean  la  eòidat^  afua 
an  uair  a  rbinig  Ud  a'  cbebrdacb,  -  Ubb  I  Ubb  1  **  tbnbrt  iadaan, "  &*• 
•o  anxod  dubh  a  chuir  an  rigb  sinn  a  db*  iarraidb.**  Rug  iad  air,  *a 
tbilg  iad  a  stigh  do  'n  chòida'  e,  mar  gum  bitbaadb  Ibid  mbina  aon. 
Ach  cba  deacb  Ud  fada  air  an  tligbe,  nuair  a  ab^  etan  an  fhaada^ . 
'•  bha  *n  ioUire  ri  'thaobb,  *a  tbubhairt  e  rithe^  *"  Tboir  mUa  as 
a'  fo,  agut  lion  e  do  gliacb  aalacliar  a  gheibb  iliu.**  Nuafar  a  rblnlg 
an  còidso  pàileit  an  righ,  ohaidli  an  rigb  'db*  fbo^gUdb  an  donaia. 
Thultgach  aaUchar  's  gach  baggaiat  mu  cheana  an  rìgb.  Bha  fbaig 
ro  mhòr  air  an  righ,  'a  db*  brdaich  e  na  gillean  each  a  bhi  air  an 
crocbadh  air  ball.  Chuir  an  righ  a*  ghille  cinnteach  fbèin  air  falbh, 
agus  an  uair  a  ràinig  e  a'  chebnJach,  rug  e  air  Ikimh  air  gille  dubh 
•^ididh  a*  bhuilg.  "Chuir  an  rigb/'  thuirt  eaan,  "miae  gud* 
iarraidh  ■  'fekrr  dhuit  beagan  do  'n  ghual  a  gblanadb  dhelb  t*  aodana.** 
liinn  an  gille  to,  ghUn  e  e  ftfin  gu  maith  *8  gu  ro  mbaith»  *a  rug  giUa 
an  rìgh  air  Ihlmb  air,  *a  chuir  e  itigb  do  *n  chòida*  e.  Cba  robh  lad 
ach  goirid  air  falbb,  dar  a  tb^d  e  'n  flieadig.  Tbkioig  an  Iolaire,  *a 
db'  iarr  eaan  oirre  an  delta  òir  'a  fdrgid  a  bha  aig  an  fhambair  robbr  a 
tboirt  an  tud  gun  dbil ;  '•  cba  robh  an  Iolaire  fada  *dol  *8a'  tlghina 
leis  an  deise.  Sgeadaich  eaan  e  f^In  le  deise  an  fhambair,  'a  an  nair 
a  thainig  iad  gu  pkileaa  an  rigb,  thbinig  an  righ,  *8  dh'  (boagail  e  doma 
a  cliòidae  'b  bha  'n  tin  an  aon  duine  bu  bhrèagha  a  chnnnaic  an  rtgh 
rUmh.  Thug  an  rigb  ttigh  e,  't  dli'  innU  e  do  *n  rigb  mar  a  db' 
èirich  dha  fo  thba  gu  deireadh.  Cbaidh  an  tribir  dhaoine  mora  bha 
'dol  a  phòiadh  nigheanan  an  righ  a  chrochadh,  't  nighean  mbòr  an 
r\gh  thabhairt  dhktan  ri  phòtadh;  'a  rinn  iad  bauaU  dlioibb  fad 
licliead  oidhche  't  ilchead  Utha,  *t  dh'  fhbg  mite  a'  dannaa  iad,  *8  cba 
'n'eil  floe  agamaa  uach  'ell  iad  a'  cuir  nan  car  air  an  urlar  gua  an 
Utlia  'n  diugb. 


TBI  KINO  OF  LOOHLIN'b  THBII  DAU0HTER8.      249 

This  storj  was  written,  Mmj  1869,  by  Heotor  Urqahart,  gmme- 
keeper,  from  the  dictation  of  Neill  Gilliee,  a  fiahennan  and  bailder 
of  stone  djrkes,  who  lives  near  InTsrarj.  He  is  now  abont  fifty* 
five,  and  sajs  he  learned  the  story  from  his  father,  who  need  to 
tell  it  when  he  was  about  sixteen  or  soTenteen. 

It  has  something  of  many  other  Qaelio  tales.  In  particnlar, 
one  called  '*  Bolgum  More/'  in  which  there  are  more  gifted  men. 
It  has  some  resemblanoe  to  Fortunio ;  and  the  part  which  goes  oo 
nnder  groand  resembles  part  of  many  other  popolar  tales.  The 
Three  Qiants,  with  their  gold,  siWer,  and  copper  crowns,  are  like 
the  Qnomes  of  the  Mine.  Similar  Giants,  ruling  over  metals,  and 
lÌTÌng  in  castles  made  of  gold,  silrer,  and  copper,  are  men- 
tioned in  a  story  from  South  Uist,  which  resemble^  the  Sea 
Maiden. 

As  a  whole.  No.  16  is  unlike  anything  I  know,  but  nearly 
erery  incident  has  a  parallel  woTen  in  with  something  else,  and  it 
most  resembles  Grimm*s  Golden  Goose. 

The  Enchanted  Ship,  which  could  sail  on  sea  and  land, 
belongs  to  Norse  tales  and  to  Norse  mythology.  The  gods  had 
such  a  ship. 

The  Eagle  is  peculiarly  eastern  :  he  is  but  a  genius  in  another 
shape;  the  underground  treasures  are  also  eastern;  and  it  is 
worth  remark,  that  two  of  the  daughters  are  not  proTÌded  for  at 
all  The  three  gentlemen  were  hanged,  and  the  smith's  senranl 
married  the  eldest  prinoess  with  the  golden  crown,  so  the  two 
youngest  remain  spinsters.  It  is  suggested  by  the  author  of 
Norse  Tales,  that  similar  incidents  may  show  the  change  from 
Eastern  to  Westsm  manners.  There  would  be  no  hitch,  if  it 
were  lawful  to  marry  the  three  ladies  in  this  story  ;  and  in  the 
Norse  story  of  Shortshanks,  it  is  suggested  that  the  second 
brother  is  added,  to  make  aU  things  proper.  In  No.  22,  a  maa 
marries  a  round  dozen. 

The  cbtbes  of  these  giants  fit  the  lad,  so  they  were  but  under- 
ground men. 

There  is  the  usual  moral.  The  least  becomes  the  greatest ; 
but  there  is  a  dash  of  character  in  the  pride  of  the  smith's  lad,  who 
will  not  come  till  he  is  taken  by  the  hand  by  the  king's  own  con- 
fidential serrsnt.  And  this  is  characteristic  of  the  race.  A  Cell 
can  be  led  anywhere,  but  hs  will  not  be  driron.    The  king,  who 


250 


WBT  HIOHLàirD  TALK 


opens  hit  own  ooach  door,  it  tonewluil  ìEk%  a  fiNrmtr.  Thm  ootdi 
and  fonr  it  bat  the  grendeet  of  the  Tehielee  oeea  in  the  aeigbbovr- 
hood— one  of  which  wet  oompeied  hj  a  friend  of  mine^  to  **« 
pecking  box  upon  wheek,  Uned  with  an  old  blanket.''  In  tiha 
month  of  a  city  narrator,  it  woold  hare  been  a  lord  major'a 
ooech,  end  it  probably  wat  a  palanquin  at  tome  time. 

Thit  ttory  mtj  be  oompared  with  **  The  Big  Bird  Daa,"* 
NorteTelet,No.65.  Gifted  men  are  to  be  found  in  *«  The  Maelar 
Maid,"  No.  1 1.  Such  men  are  alto  in  German,  "  How  dz  tra- 
TeUed  through  the  World ;"  and,  according  to  the  notea  in  tiha 
third  Tolome  of  Grimm,  the  ttory  it  widely  tpread,  and  oomman 
to  Italian. 


7» 


XVIL 
MAOL    ACHLIOBAIN. 

From  Ann  MacQilTrftj,  Itby. 

THERE  was  a  widow  ere  now,  and  the  had  three 
daughters  ;  and  they  said  to  her  that  thej  would 
go  to  seek  their  fortune.  She  baked  three  bannocks. 
She  said  to  the  big  one,  ''Whether  doet  thou  like  best 
the  half  and  my  blessing,  or  the  big  half  and  my 
cursel "  "I  like  best^"  said  she.  ''the  big  half  and 
thy  curse.**  She  said  to  the  middle  one,  "Whether 
doet  thou  like  best  the  big  half  and  my  curse,  or  the 
litUe  half  and  my  blessingr  "I  like  best,"  said  she, 
"the  big  half  and  thy  curse."*  She  said  to  the  Uttle 
one,  "  Whether  dost  thou  like  best  the  big  half  and 
my  curse,  or  the  little  half  and  my  blessing  T  "  I  like 
best  the  half  and  thy  blessing.**  This  pleased  her 
mother,  and  she  gave  her  the  two  other  halres  also. 
They  went  away,  but  the  two  eldest  did  not  want  the 
youngest  to  be  with  them,  and  they  tied  her  to  a  rock 
of  stona  They  went  on ;  but  her  mother's  blessing 
came  and  (reed  her.  And  when  they  looked  behind 
them,  whom  did  they  see  but  her  with  the  rock  on 
top  of  her.  They  let  her  alone  a  turn  of  a  while,  till 
they  reached  a  peat  stack,  and  they  tied  her  to  the  peat 
stack.  They  went  on  a  bit  (but  her  mother*s  blessing 
came  and  freed  her)^  and  they  looked  behind  them, 


252  WBT  niGHLAMD  TIUOL 

and  whom  did  Uiey  aeo  but  her  ODming^  and  the  peat 
•tack  on  top  of  her.  Tliey  lot  her  alone  a  turn  of  a 
while,  till  Uiey  reached  a  tree,  and  thej  tied  her  to  the 
tree.  Thej  went  on  a  bit  (but  her  mother's  bleanng 
came  and  freed  her),  and  when  they  looked  behind 
tliem,  whom  did  they  eee  but  her,  and  the  tree  on  top 
of  her. 

Tliey  saw  it  was  no  good  to  be  at  her ;  thej  looaed 
her,  and  let  her  (come)  with  them.  They  were  going 
till  night  came  on  them.  They  saw  a  light  a  long 
way  from  them ;  and  though  a  long  way  from  them,  it 
was  not  long  that  they  were  in  reaching  it  They 
went  in.  What  was  this  but  a  giant*s  house  I  Thej 
asked  to  stop  the  night  They  got  that,  and  they  were 
put  to  bed  with  the  three  daughters  of  the  giant  (The 
giant  came  homo,  and  ho  said,  *'  Tlie  smell  of  the 
foreign  girls  is  within.")  There  were  twists  of  amber 
knobs  about  the  necks  of  the  giant's  daughters,  and 
strings  of  horse  hair  about  tlieir  necks.  They  all  slep^ 
but  Mool  a  Chliobain  did  not  sleep.  Through  the 
night  a  tliirst  come  on  the  giant  He  called  to  his 
bald,  rough-skinned  gillie  to  bring  him  water.  The 
bald,  rough-skinned  gillie  said  tliat  there  was  not  a 
drop  within.  "  Kill,"  said  he,  "  one  of  the  strange 
girls,  and  bring  to  me  her  blood."  ''How  will  I 
know  them?"  said  the  bald,  rough-skinned  gilliei 
''  There  are  twists  of  knobs  of  amber  about  the  necks 
of  my  daughters,  and  twists  of  horse  hair  about  the 
necks  of  the  rest" 

Muol  a  Chliobain  heard  the  giant,  and  as  quick  as 
she  could  she  put  the  strings  of  horse  hair  that  were 
about  hor  own  nock  and  about  the  nocks  of  her  sisters 
about  the  nocks  of  the  giant's  daughters  ;  and  the  knobs 
that  wore  about  the  necks  of  tho  giant's  daughters 
about  hor  own  neck  and  about  the  necks  of  her  sisters ; 


,  MAOii  A  CHUOBAnr.  253 

and  she  laid  down  $0  quietly.  The  bald,  rough-skinned 
gillie  came,  and  he  killed  one  of  the  daoghten  of  the 
giant,  and  he  took  the  blood  to  him.  He  asked  for 
MORE  to  be  brought  him.  He  killed  the  next  He 
asked  for  morb  ;  and  he  killed  the  third  one. 

Maol  a  Chliobain  awoke  her  sisters,  and  she  took 
them  with  her  on  top  of  her,  and  she  took  to  going. 
(She  took  with  her  a  golden  cloth  that  was  on  the  bed, 
and  it  called  out) 

The  giant  perceived  her,  and  he  followed  her.  The 
sparks  of  fire  that  she  was  putting  out  of  the  stones 
with  her  heels,  they  were  striking  the  giant  on  the 
ehin  ;  and  the  sparks  of  fire  that  the  giant  was  bring- 
ing out  of  the  stones  with  the  points  of  his  feet,  they 
were  striking  Maol  a  Chliobain  in  the  back  of  the 
head.  It  is  this  was  their  going  till  they  reached  a 
river.  (She  plucked  a  hair  out  of  her  head  and  made 
a  bridge  of  it,  and  she  run  over  the  river,  and  the 
giant  could  not  follow  her.)  Maol  a  Chliobain  leaped 
the  river,  but  the  river  the  giant  could  not  leap. 

**  Tliou  art  over  there,  Maol  a  Chliobain.'*  "  I  am, 
though  it  is  hard  for  thee.'*  **  Thou  killedst  my  three 
bald  brown  daughters."  **  I  killed  them,  though  it  is 
hard  for  thee."  **  And  when  wilt  thou  come  again  f " 
^  I  will  come  when  my  business  brings  me." 

They  went  on  forward  till  they  reached  the  house 
of  a  firmer.  The  fanner  had  three  son&  They  told 
how  it  happened  to  them.  Said  the  farmer  to  Maol  a 
Chliobain,  **  I  will  give  my  eldest  son  to  thy  eldest 
sister,  and  get  for  me  the  fine  comb  of  gold,  and  the 
ooarse  comb  of  silver  that  the  giant  has."  *'  It  will 
oost  thee  no  more,"  said  Maol  a  Chliobain. 

She  went  away ;  she  reached  the  house  of  the  giant ; 
she  got  in  unknown  ;  she  took  with  her  the  combs, 
and  out  aha  went     The  giant  psfoaivad  heri  and  after 


2  54  Wnr  HIQIILAHD  TIW. 

her  he  was  till  they  reached  tiie  riyer.  She  leaped  fha 
river,  but  the  river  the  giant  could  not  leapu  **  Thou 
art  over  there,  Maol  a  Chliobain."  **  I  am,  though  it 
is  hard  for  thee.*'  ''Thou  kiUedat  mj  thraa  fasld 
brown  daughters.**  ''  I  killed  them^  though  it  is  hard 
for  thee.**  *'  Thou  stoleet  my  fine  comb  of  gold,  and 
my  coarse  comb  of  silver."  ''  I  stole  them,  though  it 
is  hard  for  tliee.'*  **  When  wilt  thou  come  again  f* 
"  I  will  come  when  my  business  brings  me.*' 

She  gave  the  combs  to  the  farmer,  and  her  big 
sister  and  the  farmer's  big  son  married.  ''  I  wUl  give 
my  middle  son  to  thy  middle  sister,  and  get  ma  the 
giant's  glave  of  light'*  ''  It  will  cost  thee  no  more^'* 
said  Mool  a  Chliobain.  She  went  away,  and  aha 
reached  the  giant's  house ;  she  went  up  to  the  top  of 
a  tree  that  was  above  the  giant's  welL  In  the  night 
came  the  bald  rough-skinned  gillie  with  the  sword  of 
liglit  to  fetch  water.  When  he  bent  to  raise  the  water, 
Muol  a  Chliobain  came  down  and  she  pushed  him 
down  in  the  woll,  and  she  drowned  him,  and  she 
took  with  her  the  glave  of  light 

The  giant  followed  her  till  she  reached  the  river  ; 
she  leaped  the  river,  and  the  giant  could  not  follow 
her.  "  Thou  art  over  there,  Mool  a  Chliobain.**  "  I 
am,  if  it  is  hard  for  thoc."  *'  Thou  killedst  my  throe 
bald  brown  daughters.'*  ''I  killed,  though  it  is  hard 
for  thee."  "  Tliou  stolest  my  fine  comb  of  gold,  and 
my  coarse  comb  of  silver."  ''  I  stole,  though  it  is 
hard  for  thee."  "  Thou  killedst  my  bald  rough-skinned 
gillie."  " I  killed,  though  it  is  hard  for  tliee."  "Thou 
stolest  my  glave  of  light."  "  I  stole,  though  it  is  hard 
for  thee."  "  When  wilt  thou  come  again  I "  "I 
will  come  when  my  business  brings  me.**  She  reached 
the  house  of  tlio  fanner  with  tliu  glave  of  light ;  and 
her  middle  sister  and  the  middle  son  of  the  farmer 


MAOL  A  CHUOBAIN.  2^$ 

married.  **  I  will  give  thyself  my  youngeet  son,''  said 
the  fanner,  "and  bring  me  a  bock  that  the  giant  has.** 
**  It  will  cost  thee  no  more,**  said  Maol  a  Chliobain. 
She  went  away,  and  she  reached  the  house  of  the 
giant ;  but  when  she  had  hold  of  the  back,  the  giant 
caught  her.  "  What^**  said  the  giants  "  wouldst  thou 
do  to  me ;  if  I  had  done  as  much  harm  to  thee  as 
thou  hast  done  to  me,  I  would  make  thee  burst  thy- 
self with  milk  porridge  ;  I  would  then  put  thee  in  a 
pock  ;  I  would  hang  thee  to  the  roof-tree ;  I  would 
set  fire  under  thee ;  and  I  would  set  on  thee  with 
clubs  till  thou  shouldst  fall  as  a  faggot  of  withered ' 
sticks  on  the  floor.**  The  giant  made  milk  porridge, 
and  he  made  her  drink  it  She  put  the  milk  porridge 
about  her  mouth  and  face,  and  she  laid  over  as  if  she 
were  dead.  The  giant  put  her  in  a  pock,  and  he  hung 
her  to  the  roof-tree  ;  and  he  went  away,  himself  and 
his  men,  to  get  wood  to  the  forest  The  giant's  mother 
was  withia  When  the  giant  was  gone^  Maol  a 
Chliobain  began—*'  Tis  I  am  in  the  light  1  Tis  I  am 
in  the  city  of  gold  T  '<  WUt  thou  lot  mo  in  T  said 
the  carlin.  "  I  will  not  let  thee  in.**  At  last  she 
let  down  the  pock.  She  put  in  the  carlin,  cat^  and 
calf^  and  cream- disL  She  took  with  her  the  buck 
and  she  went  away.  When  the  giant  came  with  his 
men,  himself  and  his  men  began  at  the  bag  with  the 
dubs.  The  carlin  was  callings  "  *TÌB  myself  that's  in 
it**  "  I  know  that  thyself  is  in  it,*'  would  the  giant 
say,  as  he  laid  on  to  the  pock.  The  pock  came  down 
as  a  faggot  of  sticks,  and  what  was  in  it  but  lus  mother. 
When  the  giant  saw  how  it  was,  he  took  after  Maol 
a  Chliobain ;  he  followed  her  till  she  reached  the 
rirer.  Maol  a  Chliobain  leaped  the  rirer,  and  the 
giant  could  not  leap  it  "  Thou  art  over  there,  Maol 
a  Chliobaia**     ""I  am,  though  it  is  hard  for  thea** 


a  56  wnr  biohl4VD  talbl 

"  Tliou  killodst  my  thiee  bald  brown  dan^tenL"  **  I 
killfld,  Uiougli  it  is  hold  for  theoL**  "Thoa  ttokit 
my  golden  comb,  and  my  tilver  eombi**  ^I  atolfl^ 
tliough  it  is  haid  for  thee."  *"  Hum  killedrt  my  bild 
rough-skinned  gillie.**  ''I  killed,  though  it  it  haid 
for  tlioe.**  ''  Thou  stolest  my  glave  of  li^^t"  **  I 
stole,  tlioiigh  it  is  haid  for  thee.**  *'  Hum  kUIedst 
my  motlior.**  **  I  killed,  though  it  is  hard  for  thaai" 
"  Tliou  stolest  my  buck"  <'  I  stole,  though  it  it 
hard  for  ttioo."  "  When  wilt  thou  oome  again  1**  ^  I 
will  come  when  my  business  brings  ma"  ^^  If  thou 
wurt  over  hero,  and  I  yonder/'  said  the  gian^ 
"  what  wouldst  thou  do  to  follow  me  f '  "  I  would 
stick  myself  down,  and  I  would  drink  till  I  should  diy 
the  river."  Tlie  giant  stuck  himself  down,  and  he 
drunk  till  ho  burst  Maol  a  Chliobain  and  the  fiir* 
nicr's  youngest  son  married. 


MAOL  A  CTILIOBAIK. 

DiiA  halnntotch  ann  rolmhe  to,  *i  bha  tri  nigheaoan  aioa,  'a  thalit 
lad  ritlie  gun  racliadli  iad  a  dh'  iarraidh  an  fhortain.  Dbaaaalch  i 
tri  bonnaich.  Thuirt  i  rii  an  ttf  mkòlr,  «  Cò'ca  '1  fh«àrr  l«aC»  an  lelth 
bheag  '1  mo  bheannachd,  na'n  leiik  mhòr  *i  no  mholladid?"  "'S 
riieUrr  learn,**  ura'  ÌM,  **  an  leUh  mhòr  '1  do  rohoUacbd."  Thnlrt 
i  rU  an  te  mlicadhonaich,  "  Cò*ca  ia  fbeàrr  leat  an  leith  mhòr  *■ 
mo  nibollachd  na'n  leitb  bheag  '•  mo  bboannachd  ?  **  **  *S  fheàrr 
leam,"  ura'  ise,  **  an  kith  roliòr  'a  do  mbollachd.**  Thuirt  I  ria  ante 
bhig» "  Cò'ca  is  flieàrr  leat  an  leith  mhòr  *s  mo  mhollochd  n*an  Mth 
bhfag  'a  mo  bheannachd  ?"  'S  fbearr  leam  an  leith  bheag  'a  do  bheaon* 
achd.  Cliòrd  ao  r'a  roàthair,  'a  thug  i  dhi  an  da  leith  eile  caideachd. 
Dh*  fliolbh  iad»  ach  cha  robh  toil  aig  an  ditbiad  abu  ahine  an  ttf  b' 
òlpe  *bhi  leò,  *•  cheangall  iad  i  ri  carra  cloiche.  Gliabh  eud  air  an 
aghaldli,  '■  nur  a  db'  anihairc  iad  aa  an  dèigli,  co  a  chunnaic  iad  ach 
iae,  'a  a'  cbreag  air  a  muin.  Leig  iad  leatlia  car  treia  gus  ao  d*  rkinig 


MAOIi  A  OHUOBAIN.  1 5  7 

lad  cnuich  mhoiiadli,  *8  eheangail  iad  I  rit  a'  chmiieh  mhontdh. 
Qhabh  iad  air  an  aghaidh  trail,  *8  dh'  amhalre  iad  *iiaii  dtfigii,  'k  oo  a 
ehannaic  iad  ach  lie  a*  Ughlnn,  *8  a'  cbniach  mhbiiadh  air  a  nain. 
Ldg  lad  leatha  ear  tacan  gna  an  d*  rUnlg  iad  craobh,  *9  dieangafl  iad 
ria  a'  chraobh  L  Ghabh  iad  air  an  aghaidh  treia,  'a  nor  adh*amhaire 
ltd  *nan  d^h,  oo  a  chnnnale  iad  ach  ite  a'  tigfainn,  *•  a*  duaobh  air 
a  main.  Chnnnaio  iad  naoh  robh  bmUi  a  bUth  rlthc  Dh*  Ihnaag- 
aO  iad  I,  *8  lig  iad  leo  L  Bha  iad  a*  felbh  gna  an  d*  thUnig  an 
oidhoha^orra.  Chiinnaloiadsolaafadaiiatha,*8BBabthadattatliaeha 
blhadala  bha iadaan  *ga  Volghaaebd.  Chaidh iad  a 8C%h.  Mabha 
"toachUghfamhair.  Dh' larr  iad  ftaliaaehd 'aaa  oMbdMw  fhaalrlad 
da,  *i  chviraadh  a  laidha  iad  la  tri  nigfaeaaaa  an  fhamhair. 

Ilha  earan  da  chnaapan  ònbalr  ma  mlnriDaalaa  Bighaanaa  an 
fhamliair,  agua  srsasganan  gaoiiid  ina*ai  mttiaaniaiL  Chaidll  lad 
afar  bd,  Ach  eha  do  ehaMil  Maol  a'  ehliobala.  Faadh  na  h-aidheha 
thhinig  paghadh  air  an  fhamhair,  Ghlaoldh  o  r'a  ghllla  auol  earraeh 
viiga  thoirt  a  'kMiBaaidh.  Thidrt  an  giUa  ouol,  earraeh,  naeh  robh 
dear  a  atigh.  "  Marbh,**  vra*  otan, "  ta  da  na  nigheanan  ecrfmhaaeh,  *a 
thoir  a  m*  kmBaaidh  a  foil.**  "  Demur  a  dh*  althneadiaa  ml  aaterra  K 
vt*  an  gllle  maol,  earraeh.  **  Tha  earan  de  ehnoapan  ma  mhirfnaaU 
an  mo  nigheananaa,  *i  earan  gaolaid  aaa  mhoineQ  ehhleh."  Ghoala 
Maol  a*  ehliobalB  am  famhair,  *i  eho  elii  *§  a  b'urralnn  I,  dndr  I  na 
aroangannan  gaoiiid  abha ma  *mvlBeal  Mn *§  ma mhainaail  a  paaftb- 
raiehean  ma  mholneil  nlghaasan  aa  fhamhair,  agaa  aa  eaaapaa  a 
bha  ma  mhvineil  BÌghaaaaa  aa  fhamhair  ma  *mitlaaal  ffla,  *•  ma 
adralaaD a peathrakhaan, *§  laidh  Irtoa  gn  ahmhaeh.  ThhialgaagiDa 
BMol  earraeh,  *8  mharbh  o  U  da  aigfaeaaan  aa  fhamhair,  *•  thog  o*a 
fhaU  a  *ionBsaidh.  Dh*larrotalllldhathoirta*loBaaBÌdh.  Mharbh 
0  aa  ath  U.  Dh*  larr  o  talUidh,  *a  mharbh  o  *a  tnaa  la.  Dhhiig 
Maol  a*  ehllobaia  a  paaihraiehaaa,  *8  thog  I  laath*  air  a  mala  kd,  *a 
ghabh  i  air  fdbh.    Mhothaleh  am  fkmhair  dl,  *8  lean  o  1. 

Na  spreadaa  talaa  a  bha  be  ear  aa  aa  elaehaa  la  a  ahlltaaa,  bha 
iad  a*  boaladh  aa  fhamhair  *8aB  aodgtad ;  *i  aa  aprtadaa  talaa  a  bha 
'm  Cunhalr  a'  toirt  aa  aa  ebehaa  la  barralbh  a  ehai,  bha  iad  a* 
baaladh  Mhaol  a*  ehliobain  aa  ehl  a*  ehiaa.  "  *8a  so  a  bv  daal  daihh 
gat  aa  d*ràlaig  iad  obhalaa.  Loam  Maol  a  ehllobafai  aa  obhalaa,  8 
eha  b'arralBa  am  fkmhair  aa  obhalaa  a  laaaL*  **  Tha  tha  thall  a 
Mhaol  a  ehllobafaL**  •'Thama'boU  laata.**  «  Mharbh  tha  mo  thH 
alglMaaaa  BMolavraagha.*  **  Mharbh  aia  'k  oO  laat  a.**  *"8  eala  a 
tlJgtha*rithladr    "  Thig  aar*  bhdr  mo  ghaothaeh  mL** 

*  MuB,  Ikam  aa  *«ll»  or  aa  aajr,  tha  tlat^ 


«J8 


wnr  moHLAHD  tauhl 


Ohabh  lad  air  Ml  tcliAÌdli  goa  an  d*  rUalf  lad  Ugh 
Dba  aig  an  tiuthanacli  Cri  mie.  Dh*  iania  lad  Mar  a  thacèair  dlwfth. 
Vn*  an  inathanach  ri  llaol  a  ohliobaia,  ■*  Bhair  mi  hm  bUmo  la  aÌM 
do  'd*  phiutbar  to  aioa,  *a  laigh  dhomh  dr  mUa  òir*a  dr  gfawbhafaiid 
a  tha  aig  an  fliamhalr."  '« Cha  cb<Md  a  taiUidh  dhait,"  wba  Maal  a 
ohllobAia.  Dh'nio1k>hl,*iràlalgltighaBfliam1iair.  Fkaairla^ 
gun  fhloa.  Thog  I  laatha  na  o\raan,  *a  ghabh  t  Vnaeh.  ìltinfbàifi 
•m  fkmhair  di ;  to  aa  a  dèiich  a  bha  a  gna  an  d*  ràinig  a  *ii  nhlMhia 
Laom  toe  an  obhalnn,  *a  cha  b'arrainn  am  flunbair  an  obhaiwi  a  Wbb. 
«<Tha  tbu  thai!  a  Mbaol  a  ehUobaln.**  "Tba  ma*a  oU  leal  au* 
**  Mbarbb  tbu  mo  tbri  nigbeanan  maoto,  raagba.**  "  Mbarbk  ma^ 
oil  lent  e.  Ghoid  tbu  mo  cbir  mbin  òlr  *a  mo  cUr  gfaarbh  aiigid." 
«"  Gboid  ma'i  oil  leat  a."  "Culn  a  tbig  tbu'ritbtod?"  "Thlgaar 
bbeir  mo  ghnotbacb  mi.** 

Tbug  i  na  olrean  tbun  aa  tnatbanalcb,  *•  pbòa  a  piotbar  mhor  *a 
mac  mòr  an  tnatbanaicb. 

"  Bbeir  mi  mo  mhac  meadbonacb  do  d*  pbinlbar  mbnadhnnafli,  h 
fUgb  dbomb  daidlieamb  aoluis  an  fbambalr."  "  Cba  cbood  a  talUlilli 
dbuiC  una  Maol  a  cbliobain.  Gbabb  i  air  iblbb,  *a  rbinlg  I  tigh  an 
fbambair.  Cbaidb  i  'luaa  ann  am  bbrr  craoibb*  a  bba  aa  dona  lobar 
an  fbambair.  Anns  an  oidbdie  tbàinig  an  gilla  maol,  oarradi^  *9  an 
ctoidheamh  aoluto  leis,  a  dh*  iarraidb  uiage.  Nur  a  dirom  a  'tbogall  an 
uiiige  thblnig  Maol  a  cbliobain  a  nuas,  *i  pbut  i  doa  *tan  lobar  e^*a  bbbth 
i  e,  'i  thug  i  leatha  an  claidheamh  toluisd.  Lean  am  lanibair  I  gna 
an  d'  ràiiiÌK  i  an  obhainn.  Leum  i  an  obbainn,  *a  dia  b*uirainn  am 
fambair  a  leantainn.  <'Tba  thu  tball  a  Mboal  a  cbliobain.**  ""Tba 
ma's  oil  lest  e."  **  Mliarbh  thu  mo  thri  nigbeanan  maola,  raagfaa." 
"  Mlisrbli  ma's  oil  lest  o."  "  Gboid  tha  mo  eblr  mMn  6ir  *a  mo  ebW 
gliarbh  airgid."  "  Gludd  roa*s  oil  leat  a.'*  '*  Mbarbb  tha  mo  gblUo 
maol,  carrsch."  **  M  linrbli  ma's  oil  leat  e."  **  Ghoifl  tlia  mo  chlaldb- 
eamh  soluU."  «*  Ghoid  ma's  oil  leat  a.**  **  Cuin  a  tbig  thu 
'rithisd."  *'ThignurbheirmoghnotbacbmL"  Rkinig  i  tigh  an  tnatb- 
anaicb leto  a'  cblaidhe«mh  sholuis,  's  pbbs  a  piutbar  mbeadhonach,  'a 
mac  meadhonach  sn  tusthansich. 

**  Dheir  mi  dhuit  (6\n  mo  mhac  Is  òige,**  urs*  an  tnatbanacb,  *a  tlioir 
am'  ionnsuidh,  *'  Uoc  a  tha  aig  an  fhsmhair."  *'  Cba  cbosd  e  tuillidb 
dhuit,"  ursa  Maol  a'  cbliobain.  Dh'  fholbb  i  's  rkinig  i  tigh  an  fhamh- 
sir,  ach  nur  a  bha  grc^im  aic'  air  a'  bhoc  rug  am  lambair  urra. 
"  De/*  urs'  am  famhair, "  a  dbebnadh  thus'  ormsa  na'n  debnainn  ulbbir 
coir'  ort  '■  a  rinn  thus*  ormsa."  '*  Bbelrinn  ort  gu  'sgbineadh  tbu 
thu  f(Mn  le  brochan  baiiine ;  chuirinn  an  sin  ann  am  poc*  thu ;  cbrocb- 
ainn  thu  ri  driom  an  tighe ;   chuirinn  teine  fodhad ;  's  gbabhainn 


MAOIi  A  OHUOBAIN.  2  59 

dvitk  cAbftir  gni  an  taitoadh  th«  *d'  ehval  chrtonalch  air  an  wlar. 
Rinn  am  fiunhair  broehan  bainna^  *a  Uiogr  lira*  ÒL  Ghuir  ite  aoi  broeb- 
aa  bainaa  ma*  baal  *i  ma  h-aiodam,  *§  Ividh  I  aeacbad  mar  gum  biodh 
I  marbh.  Choir  am  Cunhair  am  poo*  i,  *8  ohroch  0 1  ri  di^om  an  tigha^ 
*8 dh*  fholbh  0  (Hn  *8  adbaoiaa adh*  iarraidb  ilodh  do*n  choOlo.  Bha 
mbthair  an  fliamhair  a  lUgh.  Thaireidh  Maol  a'  cUiobain  nnr  a  dh' 
fholbh  am  famhab, "  '8  miaa  a  tha  ann  *tan  t-ablaa  *8  mlaa  a.tha  ann 
W  ehathair  òir."  «  An  leig  Urn  mb' ann,**  on*  a* chalUeaoh.  "Cha 
laig  ga  dearbh.**  Ma  dheinadh  laig  I  *naa8  am  pooa ;  ehuir  i  stigh  a' 
ahafflaarh,  b  cat»  b  laogh,  b  aoitfaeach  naehdair;  thng  i  katha  am 
boe;  *8dh*  fholbh  L  Nor  a  thUnig  am  fkmhair  thbbieh  a  f(an  *8  a 
dhaoina  air  a*  plioca  lab  na  eabair.  filia  *eliaillaaeh  a'  giaodhach, 
"  '8  mi  fiAn  a  th'  ann."  "Tha  fioa  agam  gvr  Ui  Min  a  th'  aan^** 
thalreadh  am  famliair,  'a  a  'g  Aridh  air  a*  pHoca.  Thhinlg  am  pooa 
*muM  "na  ehval  clu^ooaieh,  'a  64  *bha  ann  ach  a  mbktliair.  Nnr  a 
ehnnnaie  am  fiunliair  mnr  a  bha,  thug  a  a8  dtf  gh  IChaol  a'  eliliobaia. 
Lean  a  i  gna  an  d  ràinig  i  'n  obhainn.  Lenm  Maol  a'  cMiobain  an 
obhainn»8  clia  b'arralnn  am  fiunhair  a  loom.  *'Tha  Urn  ihail  a 
Mhaol  a  ehllobain.**  "  Tha  ma  *8  oH  leat  9.**  «  Mharbh  tha  mo  thri 
nighaanan  roaola,  magha.**  "  Mharbh  ma  *8  oil  leat  a.**  "Ghoid  Urn 
BM>  ch\r  mhin  òir  *i  mo  ch\r  gharbh  airgid.**  "  Gliokl  ma '8  oil  laat  a.** 
"Mharbh  tha  mo  ghiUa  maol,  carraeh.**  **  Mharbh  ma  *a  oO  laat  a.** 
"Ghoid  thn  mo  chlaidheamh  soiaisd.**  •'Ghoid  ma  '8  oU  bal  a.** 
« Mharbh  thn  mo  mhhUuJr.**  «  Mharbh  ma  *a  oil  bat  a.**  •'Gbold 
tlwmobhoc*'  "  Ghoid  ma *8 oil  laat  a.**  •  Cain  a  thig  thn  rithbd." 
«  Thig  nar  bhelr  mo  ghnothaeh  mL**  **  Na'm  biodh  thoaa  bhoa  *a  mba 
thall,**  nna  am  fiunhair,  **  da  *dhahnadh  thn  airaon  bm>  bantainn  T* 
*  '8topainn  mi  fAn,  *8  dh*  blainn  gna  an  traolghinn  an  obliainn.**  Stop 
amlkmhairefAn,'8dh*òlagafando8ghinna.  PhòaMaoiaehliob- 
ain  BMO  òg  an  toathanaicfa. 


Thia  atory  came  to  me  from  fonr  aonroea.  Flrat,  the  one 
which  I  have  tranalated,  into  which  aoToral  paaaagea  are  intro- 
dooed  (in  braokata)  from  the  other  teraiona.  Thia  waa  written 
down  bj  Hector  MaoLean. 

Sd.  A  Teraioo  got  bj  the  aame  collector  from  Flora  Madn- 
tjra,  in  lalaj  ;  receÌTed  Jane  16,  1869.  In  thie  the  wbob  of  the 
tet  part  18  omitted ;  it  begina  at  the  giant'e  honae.  The  inci- 
denta  are  then  nearly  the  aame  till  aha  mna  awaj,  when  aha 
leapa  tha  river  with  her  aiatera  nnder  her  anna.  Tlie  fiumar  or 
kii^  ia  omitted.    8ba  raUmt,  b  eaoght  hj  tha  giant,  tied  to  a 


l60  wnr  BIOHLàKD  TA 


pMt-ttook,  and  •  rook,  wkloh  tlie  talcM  away,  and 
the  giant  kill ;  tha  tbrca  cropped  rod  giria:  and  aba  UDa  Iha 
cropped  rough -akinned  gillie :  aha  ateda  tba  wUta  gjianpv  af 
light,  a  fine  comb  of  gold,  and  a  coane  oomb  of  aOrar.  Bkm 
makea  the  giant  kill  hie  mother,  and  hie  dog  and  eai  antioad  hto 
a  Back ;  at  laetehe  lete  the  giant  to  awill  the  rifer ;  ha  bont%aid 
abe  goee  home  with  the  apoil.  The  Ut  aboat  the  aaok  ia  wortb 
quoting.  She  put  the  orone  in  the  pook,  and  a  oat»  and  a  d^ 
and  a  oroam-diab  with  her.  When  the  giant  and  hia  ■>•&  caoMb 
thej  began  lajing  on  the  pock.  The  orone  cried  oat,  **  It'a  ■/• 
■elf  thou  hast ;"  and  the  giant  aaid,  *'  I  know,  thou  aba  rogva^ 
that  it*8  thou.'*  \Vhen  the/  would  strike  a  atroka  on  the  dog,  ha 
would  gÌTe  out  a  sool  ;  when  the/  would  strike  a  atroka  on  tlia 
cat,  he  would  give  out  a  laoo ;  and  when  they  wonld  atrika  a 
stroke  on  the  cream-dish,  it  would  give  out  a  anAU*  (a  apnrt).  I 
hsTe, 

8rd.  A  Torsion  Terj  prettily  told,  at  Baatar  1859,  by  a  jooag 
girl,  nursemaid  to  Mr.  Robertson,  Chamberlain  of  Argyll,  at  Li- 
Terary.  It  was  nearly  the  same  as  the  Torsioo  translated,  bat 
had  seTcral  phrases  well  worth  preservation,  aome  of  whioh  wOl 
be  found  in  brackets ;  luch  as,  **  but  her  mother'a  blessing  oama 
and  freed  hor."  The  heroine  also  stole  a  golden  cover  off  the 
bed,  which  called  out ;  and  a  golden  cock  and  a  silver  hen, 
which  also  called  out.  The  end  of  the  giant  was  thus :  At  the 
end  of  the  last  scolding  match,  the  giant  said,  "  If  thou  wort  here, 
and  I  yonder,  what  wouldst  thou  do  ?"  **  I  would  follow  thee  over 
the  bridge,'*  said  she.  So  Maol  a  chliobain  stood  on  the  bridge, 
and  she  reached  out  a  stick  to  him,  and  he  went  down  into  the 
river,  and  she  let  go  the  stick,  and  he  was  drowned.  **  And 
what  became  of  Maol  a  chliobain  ?  did  she  many  the  farmer'a 
youngest  son  ?  "  Oh,  no ;  she  did  not  marry  at  aU.  There  waa 
something  about  a  key  bid  under  a  stone,  and  a  great  deal  more 
which  I  cannot  remember.  My  father  did  not  like  my  mother  to 
be  telling  us  such  stories,  but  she  knows  plenty  more," — and  the 
lassie  departed  in  great  perturbation  from  the  parlour. 

The  4th  version  was  got  by  John  Dewar  from  John  Craw- 
fort,  horring-flsher,  Lochlonghead,  Arrochar,  and  was  received 
on  the  2il  of  February  1860.  Dewar'a  version  is  longer  than  any, 
but  it  came  too  late.     It  also  contains  some  curious  pbraaea 


MAOIi  A  GHUOBAm.  26 1 

which  the  others  hart  not  got,  tome  qneer  old  G«elio  words,  and 
■ome  new  adTontnrefl.  The  heroine  was  not  onljr  the  jonngett, 
hat  *'maol  carraoh*'  into  the  hargain,  and  the  reet  called  her 
Maol  a  Mhoibean ;  bat  when  thej  went  on  their  traTols  the  choee 
the  little  oake  and  the  bleeaing.  The  othen  tied  her  to  a  tree, 
and  a  oaim  of  itonea,  which  the  dragged  awaj.  Then  thej 
let  her  loose,  and  she  followed  them  till  thej  oame  to  a  barn. 
**  Then  the  eldest  sister  stooped  to  drink  a  draught  from  the  barn, 
and  there  came  a  small  creatore,  named  Bloinigain,  and  he 
dabbled  and  dirtied  the  bam,  and  thej  went  on.  The  next 
bam  thej  came  to  the  two  eldest  sisters  stooped,  one  on  each 
aide  of  the  bam,  to  drink  a  draught ;  bat  Blobigain  came  and  he 
dabbled  and  dirtied  the  bam ;  and  when  thej  had  gone  on 
another  small  distanoe,  thej  reached  another  bnra;  and  tha 
joangest  sister,  whom  the  rest  nsed  to  call  Kaol  a  Mhoibean, 
was  bent  down  drinking  a  dranght  from  the  bam,  and  Bloinigain 
oame  and  stood  at  the  side  of  the  bam  till  she  had  drank  her 
dranght,  and  the  other  two  came ;  bat  when  thej  stooped  to 
drink  their  dranght,  Bloinigain  dabbled  the  bora,  and  thej  went 
on ;  and  when  thej  came  to  another  bam,  the  two  eldest  were 
almost  parched  with  thirst  Maol  a  Mhoibean  kept  Bloinigain 
back  till  the  others  got  a  drink  ;  and  then  she  tossed  Bloinigain 
heels  oTsr  head,  oab  a  MHun^iA*,  into  a  pool,  and  ha  IbUowed 
tham  no  more.** 

This  Bloinigain  plajs  a  great  part  in  another  storj,  sent  hj 
Dewar ;  and  his  name  maj  perhaps  mean  "  fatfy;**  Bloiao,  &t, 
oiat,  lard ;  BLomonAn-GAiAiDH,  is  spinnage. 

The  next  adventare  is  almost  the  Torj  same.  The  giant's 
three  red-haired  polled  danghters  had  PAmwBAVAn  of  gold  aboat 
Iheir  necks  (which  word  aui|f  be  derÌTod  from  paUr,  and  a  name 
for  a  rosarj),  and  the  others  had  oolj  strings. 

When  thej  fled  thej  came  to  a  gioat  nAs,  oataraet,  and  **  there 
was  no  waj  of  getting  OTor  it,  nnless  thej  coald  walk  on  two 
ludrs  that  were  as  a  bridge  aoroes  tha  oataract ;  and  their  name 
was  DnocBAiD  An  da  nonmAO,  the  two-hair  bridge ;  and  Mad 
m  Mhoibean  ran  orer  the  eas  on  the  two  hairs ;  bat  her  sistets 
eooid  not  walk  on  the  two  hairs,  and  Maol  a  Mhoibean  had  to 
tan  hack  and  carr j  her  sisters,  one  after  ooa,  orer  the  eas  on  the 
lwo4air  bridge.**    !%•  giant  eoold  not  orooa,  and  thsj  sodded 


S6S  VSr  HIQHLAMD  TAUH 


Moh  olW  MTOM  tlM  riftr  M  h  dM  ^àkm  ìAoiIm.  IW 
ahoatod,  *•  Art  tboa  yoMUr,  MmI  a  MhAMBf*  Mi  aU  irfi 
**  AiB  MO  aooAW  niA  ;**  aid  whw  dM  Wd  tall  Imt  dMài^  dm 
nid,  **Iw{llooaM  and  goat  wj Imriam  harngtm^f*  andlha 
thrae  aiiton  want  on  and  took  aarrioa  villi  tba  Hag. 

Thia  two-hair  bridga  ofar  tba  fiA  wuf  pnaaih^y  ba  a 
rainbow ;  nanya  tioM  hara I  aat  and  watdiad  a«^  abiUlga 
a  fiai ;  and  tha  idaa  thai  tba  raiabow  waa  tba  brijga  af  apfaHi^ 
iaoUonoQgh. 

**  Stin  aaam  aa  to  aijr  oUldbood'a  li^ 

A  midway  atatioa  givaa, 
For  happy  apirita  to  alight 

fiatwizt  tha  aarth  and  haawi."* 

Tha  Noraa  goda  roda  ofor  tha  hridga,  Kl-raaali  horn  aailb  to 
haavan ;  and  thair  hridga  waa  tha  rainbow  whiah  tba  giawti  ooaM 
not  oroaa.  Thara  ia  ahm  a  bridga,  aa  ftna  aa  a  hair,  ofvar  vbiob 
tha  Moalam  paao  to  Faradiaa  |  aad  thoaa  who  aia  aoi  balpad.  Ml 
off  and  ara  loat 

The  Biftori  took  aertioa  |  ona  waa  angagad  to  aaw,  tba  ottor 
to  mind  the  hoaie,  and  the  yoongeat  aaid  aba  waa  good  at  f«B> 
nÌDg  errandi ;  fo  at  the  end  of  a  day  and  year  aha  waa  aanfe  ftr 
the  giant's  OAnanAV  Tttll  of  gold,  and  OAnwaAW  fiiU  of  ailvar;  aad 
when  she  got  there  the  giant  waa  asleep  on  a  ohaat  in  wblob 
the  treasure  wss. 

"  Then  Msol  a  Mhoibean  thought  a  while,  in  what  waj  aba 
shoold'get  the  giant  pnt  off  the  ohest ;  hot  sha  was  not  long  tiD 
she  thouglit  on  a  way ;  and  she  got  a  long  broad  bench  that  waa 
within,  and  she  set  the  bench  at  the  side  of  tha  oheat  wbaia  tba 
giant  waa  laid ;  she  went  out  where  tha  bum  waa,  and  aba  took 
two  cold  stones  from  the  bum,  and  sha  went  in  wheio  tba  giant 
was,  and  she  would  put  <me  of  the  stones  in  under  tha  olotba% 
and  touch  the  giant's  skin  at  tha  end  of  each  little  while  with  tba 
stone ;  and  tha  giant  would  lay  himself  back  from  bar,  till  Ut  by 
bit  tha  giant  went  back  off  tha  chest  on  to  tha  bench ;  and  than 
Maol  a  Mhoibean  opened  the  chest,  and  took  with  hor  tha  cabbran 
of  gold,  and  the  cabbran  of  siWar."  Tbe  rest  of  the  advenUira  ia 
nearly  the  same  as  in  the  other  Torsions ;  and  tha  eldest  aiatar 
married  the  king's  eldest  son. 


MAOIi  A  OHUOBAIN.  263 

Tbe  next  wm  the  Clmidlieamh  Geal  Solnia,  whita  |^^  of 
Ught. 

She  got  in  and  eat  on  n  rafter  on  a  hag  of  lait ;  and  aa  the 
giant'a  wife  made  the  porridge,  the  threw  in  talt.  Then  the 
giant  and  hit  eon  eat  and  rapped,  and  aa  thej  ate  thej  talked  of 
how  the/  woold  catch  Mad,  and  what  they  woold  do  to  her  when 
they  had  her ;  and  after  rapper  they  went  to  hed.*'  Tlien  the 
giant  got  Tory  thirsty,  and  he  called  to  hit  eon  to  get  him  a 
drink ;  and  in  the  time  that  the  giant's  son  was  seeking  a  oumav 
(rap),  Maol  a  Mhoibean  took  with  her  the  fiQ  of  her  bouibd  (skirt) 
of  salt,  and  she  stood  at  the  oatside  of  the  door ;  and  the  giant's 
son  said  to  him  "  that  there  was  no  water  within  ;*'  and  the 
giant  said  "  That  the  spring  was  not  far  08^  and  that  he  shodd 
bring  in  water  from  the  well  ;*'  and  when  the  giant*s  son  opened 
the  door,  Maol  a  Mhoibean  began  to  throw  salt  in  his  iaoe ;  and 
he  said  to  the  giant,  "  That  the  night  was  dark,  and  that  it  was 
•owing  and  winnowing  hailstones  (oui  nons  am  oiDBOHn  doioha 
Aeus  CUB  s'  CABHADH  oLAOH-A-MBALLAii  Av)  \  and  the  giant 
said,  "  Take  with  thee  my  white  gla^e  of  light,  and  then  wilt  see 
a  great  distance  before  thee,  and  a  long  way  behind  thee/' 

When  the  yonng  giant  came  ont,  it  was  a  fine  night  i  and  he 
wrat  to  the  well  with  the  bright  sword,  and  laid  it  down  beside 
him  ;  while  he  stooped  to  take  np  the  water,  Maol  followed  him, 
and  picked  op  the  sword,  and  eootDa  t  a'v  obaiiv,  she  whisked 
the  head  off  the  giant's  son.  Thra  came  the  flight  and  porsoit, 
and  escape,  and  scolding  match,  and  the  seoond  son  of  the  king 
married  thf  second  sister. 

The  next  adTrature  was  the  theft  of  Boo  cunanAHAOw,  the 
belled  back.  She  went  orer  the  bridge  and  into  the  goats*  hrase, 
and  the  goats  began  at  uocooaioh,  roaring ;  and  the  giant  said, 
"  Maol  a  Mhoibean  is  amragst  the  goats  ;**  and  he  wrat  out  and 
eaaght  her ;  and  he  said,  '*  What  wonldst  then  do  to  me  if  then 
•honldst  find  me  amongst  thy  goats,  as  I  fonnd  thee  T*  And  aha 
•aid.  **  It  is  (this)  that  I  would  kill  the  best  bock  that  I  might 
haTS,  and  I  would  take  ont  the  paanch,  and  I  wonld  pot  thee  In 
the  paanch,  and  I  woold  hang  tlice  op  till  I  shoold  go  to  the 
wood ;  and  I  woold  get  dobe  of  elder,  and  then  I  woold  coma 
home,  Aoos  svuio-Am  00  bab  tito,  and  I  woold  belaboor  thaa 
lodeath.*'    *•  And  that  ia what  I  will  do  thaa,**  aaid  th« giant 


a  64  WBT  mOHL4ND  TALHL 

Then  oome*  tha  bit  which  it  cominoo  to  Mrml  oCbar  wÈmimg 
in  Tariooa  thapet ;  and  which  ia  part  of  n  itoiy  in  Strmpnrala. 

When  the  wu  hong  np  in  the  goot'i  pnandi,  mad  tha  gma% 
gone  for  his  elder^wood  olubo,  Itnol  n  Mhciheai  btgna  to  anj  to 
the  giant*!  wife,  '*  Oh  1  it's  I  that  am  getting  the  brmTo  ni^l 
Oh  1  it's  I  that  am  getting  the  hraTO  light  I**  ••  abo  awajod 
henelf  baokwarda  and  forwards ;  and  the  giant*i  wife  woold  hj 
to  her,  **  Wilt  thou  lot  me  in  a  little  while  V**  and  Mnol  a  Ifhoi- 
bean  would  saj  (I  will)  noi  lei  (thee  in)  oha  liiob,  and  no  oa  till 
the  wife  was  onticed'  into  the  pannoh,  and  then  Iffaol  look  tho 
belled  bock  and  went  away  with  him.     **  Aoos  am  vamm  a*  m 

▲lED  in  B'  niM  BAaAV,  §*  am  MUAIB  A  B*  AIBO  AtAn  b'  IBLB  BB  ;*' 

and  the  time  she  was  highest  he  was  lowest,  and  the  time  b«  wan 
highest  she  was  lowest,  till  they  reached  the  two-hair  bridga. 
The  giant  came  home  and  balaboared  hia  wife  to  daalli,  aad 
oTery  blow  he  struck,  the  wife  would  say,  "n  bi  fbbib  ▲  ma 
Aim,  o  a  MI  PHUH  A  THA  ABB — It  is  mjself  that  ia  in  it :  Oh  I  It 
is  myself  that  is  in  it  ;**  and  the  giant  would  say,  "  I  know  It  lo 
thyselfthatisinit.*' 

[And  in  this  the  giant  is  like  the  water-hone  in  aaoilior 
story,  and  like  the  cyclop  in  the  Odyssey,  and  like  all  othar 
giants  throughout  mythology.  He  was  a  great,  strong,  blonder- 
iog  fool,  and  his  family  were  as  stupid  as  himself.] 

Maol  married  the  king's  third  son,  and  the  king  aaid,  **  There 
is  one  other  thing  yet  of  what  the  giant  has  that  I  want,  and 

that  is,  A  SOIATII  BHALLADIIRBAO  AGU8  A  BHOOH  i  A  DH'oBLAQB— 

his  lumpy  bumby  shield,  and  bis  bow  and  his  quÌTor,  or  in  poeti- 
cal language,  his  variegated  bossy  shield,  and  his  bow  and  qaiTer 
— and  I  will  give  thee  the  kingdom  if  thou  wilt  get  me  them." 
This  is  a  good  instance  of  what  may  happen  in  translating  Gaelic 
into  English,  one  language  into  another,  which  ia  far  remoTed 
from  it,  both  in  construction  and  meaning.  Bualabbbbao 
applies  to  almost  anything  that  is  round  or  spotted.  The  root  of 
the  epithet  is  ball,  which,  in  oblique  cases,  becomes  BHArx,  Tall, 
and  means  a  spot,  a  dot,  and  many  other  things.  It  is  the  same 
as  the  English  word  ball.  A  shield  was  round,  and  coTered  with 
knobs ;  a  city  wall  was  round,  and  it  was  the  shield  of  the  town  ; 
an  egg  was  round,  and  the  shell  was  the  shield  or  the  wall  of  the 
egg ;  a  skull  is  round,  and  the  shield  of  the  brain,  and  a  head  ia 


MAOL  A  OHUOBAIH.  263 

Tho  next  was  the  CUidbeMnh  Gkal  Solnti,  whita  gU^  of 
light. 

She  got  in  and  Mt  on  •  rafter  on  a  bag  of  salt ;  and  at  the 
giant's  wife  made  the  porridge,  the  threw  in  ealt.  Then  the 
giant  and  hit  ton  tat  and  rapped,  and  at  the/  tte  the/  talked  of 
how  thej  would  catch  Maol,  and  what  thej  woold  do  to  her  when 
they  had  her ;  and  after  tapper  they  went  to  bed."  Then  tha 
giant  got  Tery  thirtty,  and  he  called  to  hit  ton  to  get  him  a 
drink ;  and  in  the  time  that  the  giant*t  ton  wat  teeking  a  oumav 
(enp),  Maol  a  Mhoibean  took  with  her  the  fill  of  her  aouiKD  (skirt) 
of  talt,  and  the  stood  at  the  onttide  of  the  door ;  and  the  giaat't 
ton  taid  to  him  "  that  there  wat  no  water  within  ;'*  and  the 
giant  taid  *'  That  the  tpring  wat  not  far  ttS,  and  that  he  shonld 
bring  in  water  from  the  well  ;**  and  when  the  giant's  ton  opened 
the  door,  Mnol  a  Mhoibean  began  to  throw  tait  in  hit  ftee ;  tnd 
he  taid  to  the  giant,  "  That  the  night  wat  dark,  and  that  it  wat 
•owing  and  winnowing  hailttonet  (gov  nona  as  oiDVom  doioha 
Aeot  CUB  s'  CABHADB  OLAOH-A-MBALLAiv  Av) ;  and  the  giant 
said,  "  Take  with  thee  my  white  glave  of  light,  and  thon  wilt  tee 
a  great  distance  before  thee,  and  a  long  way  behind  thee.** 

When  the  yonng  giant  came  ont,  it  wat  a  fine  night ;  and  he 
went  to  the  well  with  the  bright  tword,  and  laid  it  down  betide 
him  ;  while  he  ttooped  to  take  np  the  water,  Maol  followed  him, 
and  picked  ap  the  tword,  and  aomoa  1  a*i  cbavv,  the  whitkad 
the  head  off  the  giant't  ton.  Then  came  the  flight  and  porrait, 
and  eecape,  and  toolding  match,  aad  the  tacond  ton  of  the  king 
married  the  tecond  titter. 

T1i#  next  adTeatnre  wat  the  theft  of  Boo  OLUionASAoa,  the 
belled  bock.  She  went  orer  the  bridge  and  into  the  goatt*  hovte, 
and  the  gnats  began  at  nstxsDAiai,  roaring ;  aad  the  giant  taid, 
**  Maol  a  Mhoibean  is  aaMBgtt  the  goats  ;*'  aad  he  went  ont  and 
eaaght  her ;  aad  he  said,  "  What  woaldtt  thon  do  to  me  if  thoa 
abooldtt  find  me  amongst  thy  goatt,  at  I  Ibaad  thee  f*  Aad  aha 
taid,  •«  It  it  (this)  that  I  woald  kin  the  beat  back  that  I  might 
have,  aad  I  woald  take  oat  the  paaach,  aad  I  woald  pat  thee  la 
the  paaach,  aad  I  woald  haag  thca  ap  tlO  I  shoald  go  to  the 
wood ;  aad  I  woald  get  cinbt  of  elder,  aad  thea  I  woald  ea«M 
hooe,  Aaat  tvLio-Anni  ao  bab  two,  aad  I  woald  belaboar  thaa 
tadaath.*'    "  And  thai  it  what  I  will  da  thaa,**  taid  tba  glast 


t 


264  wnr  moHLàND  tauhl 

Hien  oomet  IIm  bit  which  it  cominoo  to  Mrml  ottw  iloriii^ 
in  f  ariona  sliapM ;  and  whioh  b  pari  of  a  itoiy  in  Stn^mln. 

When  aha  waa  hong  up  in  the  goat'a  panndi,  and  Ùm  finl 
gone  for  his  elder-wood  olnba,  Maol  a  Ifhoibaaa  bagan  to  nj  to 
the  giant's  wife,  *"  Oh  1  it'a  I  that  am  gotting  tha  braTo  ai^l 
Oh!  it'a  I  that  am  gotting  tha  bra^  aightl"  aa  aim  aw^od 
heraelf  backwards  and  forwards ;  and  the  giant's  wife  wooM  mj 
to  her,  **  Wilt  thou  let  me  in  a  little  while  V*  and  Kaol  a  Mhoi- 
bean  would  saj  (I  will)  noi  lei  (thee  in)  oha  liioh,  and  ao  00  tfll 
the  wife  was  enticed'  into  the  paonch,  and  then  Haol  took  tha 
belled  buck  and  went  away  with  him.  "  Aooa  ▲■  uaib  a'  m 
AiED  lan  B*  laui  mabam,  a'  Aa  soaib  a  b*  auo  AaAS  m*  blb  1 
and  the  time  she  was  highest  he  was  lowest,  and  the  time  ha 
highest  she  was  lowest,  till  they  reached  the  two-Jiair  bii^go. 
The  giant  came  home  and  belaboured  hia  wife  to  doath,  and 
OTerj  blow  he  struck,  the  wife  would  say,  "n  lu  rHsni  a  iba 
ANN,  o  a  Ml  PUKIM  A  THA  AIM — It  is  myaolf  that  is  in  it :  Oh  I  U 
is  myselfthat  is  in  it  ;**  and  tha  giant  would  aay,  "  I  know  H  la 
thyaelf  that  is  in  it.'* 

[And  in  this  the  giant  is  like  the  watar-horaa  in  anfttlHtr 
story,  and  like  the  cyclop  in  the  Odyssey,  and  like  all  otbor 
giants  throughout  mythology.  He  was  a  great,  atrong,  blnndar- 
iog  fool,  and  his  family  were  as  stupid  aa  himself.] 

Maol  married  the  king's  third  son,  and  the  king  aaid,  **T1iara 
is  one  other  thing  yet  of  what  the  giant  has  that  I  want,  and 

that  is,  A  SOIATII  BlIALLAniiaBAO  AOUa  A  BBOOU  a  A  DU'oaLAOH— 

his  lumpy  bumby  shield,  and  his  bow  and  his  quiyer,  or  in  poati- 
cal  language,  his  variegated  bossy  shield,  and  his  bow  and  qaivar 
— and  I  will  give  thee  the  kingdom  if  thou  wilt  get  me  thein«" 
This  is  a  good  instance  of  what  may  happen  in  translating  Qaalio 
into  English,  one  language  into  another,  which  is  far  removad 
from  it,  both  in  conatruction  and  meaning.  Bhalabbsmao 
applies  to  almost  anything  that  is  round  or  spotted.  The  root  of 
the  epithet  is  ball,  which,  in  oblique  cases,  becomes  bhall,  yall, 
and  means  a  spot,  a  dot,  and  many  other  things.  It  is  the  aama 
as  the  English  word  ball.  A  shield  was  round,  and  covered  with 
knobs ;  a  city  wall  was  round,  and  it  was  the  shield  of  the  town  * 
an  egg  was  round,  and  the  shell  was  the  shield  or  the  wall  of  the 
egg ;  a  skull  is  round,  and  the  shield  of  the  brain,  and  a  head  ia 


MAOL  A  CHUOBAIN.  265 


•Un  called  a  knob  in  EngKih  ilang ;  a  toad-ttool  ia  round,— and 
■o  thii  word  ban  haa  gÌTon  riae  to  a  ■nooearion  of  worda,  which 
at  firat  light  appear  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  each  other,  and 
the  phrase  mighi  be  translated  speckled  wings.  The  epithet  b 
applied  to  cloada  and  to  manj  things  in  Qaelio  poetrj,  and  haa 
been  translated  in  man/  waja,  according  to  the  taste  of  each 
translator.  Those  who  felt  the  beantj  of  the  passages  nsed  the 
words  which  they  fonnd  applicable.  Thoae  who  do  not,  may,  if 
they  choose,  search  ont  wonls  which  express  their  feeling;  and 
so  a  poem  which  stands  on  its  own  merit,  in  its  own  language,',  is 
at  the  mercy  of  CTory  translator ;  and  those  who  work  at  Gaelic 
with  dictionaries  for  gnidea,  may  well  be  pimled  with  the  molti- 
tnde  of  meanings  assigned  to  words. 

80  Maol  went,  and  the  giant's  dog  barked  at  her,  and  the 
giant  came  ont  and  caught  her,  and  said  ha  would  cut  her  head 
off;  and  she  said  she  would  hsTO  done  worae  to  him ;  and  **  What 
was  that?*'  **Put  him  in  sack  and  roast  him;  *'  ao  he  said  he 
would  do  that,  and  put  her  in,  and  went  for  wood.  She  got  her 
hand  out,  untied  the  string,  and  put  in  the  dog  and  oat,  and  iled 
with  i«.j  anna,  and  the  giant  roaated  hia  own  dog  and  oat,  Aoua 

BHA    AM   MADADB  AV  *a  AV  BOAUULLB  AOUS  AS  OATS  AM  'a  Al 

•oiAaauii/— and  the  dog  was  in,  and  the  equalling ;  and  the  cat 
(was)  in,  and  the  aquealKng,  and  the  giant  would  aay,  **  Fkoob 
ivrr  A  Mia— Try  thyself  now.**  Whan  he  Ibund  out  the  trick,  he 
pursued,  and  when  they  got  to  the  bridge,  hb  hand  waa  on  her 
back,  and  he  missed  his  step  and  feU  into  the  bas,  and  there  he 
lay.  And  the  king's  son  and  Maol  a  Mhoibean  were  made  heirs 
in  the  kingdom,  and  if  they  wanted  any  more  of  the  giant's 
goods,  they  got  it  without  the  danger  of  bebg  caught  by  the 
gimnt. 

The  Gaelic  gi^en  in  Dewar's  Torsion  is  spelt  aa  it  came,  and 
is  somewhat  Phonetic.  Tlie  writer  knows  his  own  language  weU, 
but  has  had  Tory  little  practice  in  writing  it  Aa  he  spells  in 
some  degree  by  ear,  his  phonetics  ha^e  their  Talue,  as  they  have 
in  his  English  letter  giten  in  the  introduction. 

6.  A  gentleman  at  the  inn  at  InTorary  remembered  to  have 
heard  a  similar  story  *'  long  ago  about  a  witch  that  would  ba 
running  in  and  out  of  a  window  on  a  bridge  of  a  single  hair." 

6.  *'  Kate  ill  PratU  **  ia  rofMrred  to  in  a  rsTÌew  of  Cbambars' 

•  8 


i66  wnr  HiaHLAND  T^ua 

NorMrj  Bbjmei,  at  page  117,  vol.  10;  1868— Tkit't  Bdinbwgk 
MagAiioo.  Tho  aiory  it  mwtioiiad  m  told  in  Pèriluldra,  and 
■eemt  to  be  of  tho  uuno  kind ;  with  a  bit  of  Ofadorallo,  •■  kaowa 
in  the  weet,  with  the  edTÌce  of  the  hoodie  in  Mnrclindli  and 
Hionacheg  pat  in  the  month  of  a  little  bird— 

**  Stuff  wi'  fog,  and  olem  wi*  clay, 
And  then  ye  Ml  oarry  the  water  away.*' 

Theie  eonndt  are  not  imitationi  of  any  bird*i  notOy  and  the 
Qaelio  eonndt  are;  io  I  am  inclined  to  think  the  GaaKc  older 
than  the  low  country  yersion. 

The  ttoiy  it  well  known  at  Little  Thomb.  It  it  modi  the 
tame  at  Boott  and  the  Troll,  Norte  Talee,  p.  847.  It  ia  ao»e- 
what  like  part  of  Jack  and  the  Bean-ttalk.  Part  of  it  ia  lika  Big 
Peter  and  Little  Peter,  Norte  Talet,  p.  895 ;  and  that  ia  Hke  aoma 
Qerman  Storiet,  and  like  a  ttory  in  Straparola.  The  openiag  ia 
Hke  that  of  a  great  many  Qaelio  Storiea,  and  it  oommoo  to  one 
or  two  in  Qrirom. 

There  ia  tomething  in  a  ttory  from  Polynetia,  which  I  haTa 
read,  in  which  a  hero  goet  to  the  tky  on  a  ladder  made  of  a  plant, 
and  bringt  thence  preciout  giftt,  much  at  Jack  did  by  the  help 
of  hit  bean-atalk.  In  abort,  thit  atoiy  Uslonga  to  that  clatt  which 
is  common  to  all  the  world,  but  it  hat  itt  own  diatinctÌTO  cbarao- 
ter  in  the  Iliglilanda ;  for  the  four  Toraiont  which  I  haye,  reaemble 
each  other  much  more  than  they  do  any  other  of  which  I  know 
nnything. 


XVIIo. 
FABLES. 

1.  From  J.  MftcLood,  fivhermui  on  tho  Lasibrd,  Satlieiiand. 

0N£  daj  the  fox  suocoedod  in  catching  a  fine  fat 
gooee  asleep  bj  the  aide  of  a  loch,  he  held  her  bj 
the  wing,  and  making  a  joke  of  her  cackling^  hissing 
and  feoTSy  he  said, — 

**  Now,  if  you  had  me  in  your  month  as  I  have  you, 
tell  me  what  you  would  do  t** 

''  Why,**  said  the  gouoe,  ''that  is  an  easy  question. 
I  would  fold  my  liands,  sliut  my  eyes,  say  a  graoe^  and 
then  eat  you." 

''  Just  what  I  mean  to  do,"  said  Kory,  and  folding 
his  hands,  and  looking  very  demure,  he  said  a  pioiis 
grace  with  his  eyes  shut 

But  while  he  did  this  the  gooee  had  spread  her 
wings,  and  she  was  now  half  way  over  the  loch ;  so  the 
fox  was  left  to  lick  his  lips  for  supper. 

**  I  will  make  a  rule  of  this,**  he  said  in  disgust, 
''  never  in  all  my  life  to  say  a  grace  again  till  after  I 
feel  the  meat  warm  in  my  b^y."  C.  D. 

The  wild  gooM  in  tht  HighUndt  has  her  tnie  chancter ;  sIm 
it  one  of  the  moet  wary  and  ngaoSoQi  of  Urde,  and  a  Gaelic  pro- 
Ttfb  iayi: — 

Sealgair  Urn  mar  a  mharbbaa  thn  Q^adh  a*t  Corr*  a*f  Crotach. 

Sporiaman  thou,  when  InUeet  thov  gooae,  and  heron,  and 
rurlew? 


0- 


a68  Wf  HWlHTiaBD 


Roty  to  aoomiptÌMi  ofaOatlÌopif 
OM  wlMMhairtooftlMOPlowortlM  1»  "Baadk."  ThtAKÌi 
ealled  by  Tariou  dewriptif  tad  otiMr  »■•■.  ^*— *«^  im 
with  the  "•bam,"  bug  or  qohtr,  ftoi  videli  tU  afc^f  ■  rftia 
qoiver  m»j  be  MmBtoed  to  ha^e  mwibltd  the  tbmmf  bmk. 
Madadh  Ruami,  the  red-brova  dof .  Qnxa  MAasimai^  the 
■enreai  of  Hertin,  or  perbepe  the  lleitÌBBee  led,  bat  the  tne 
Qeelio,  eooording  to  ny  iaetraetar,  a  Loca  Bea,  is 
pronotmoed  Shmutck,  wbloh  to  eei^y  the  lane  ea.tha 
Btam,  dof.    SuHUH  Saina,  dof>Utoh. 

S.  From  John  Oempben,  piper;  aad  mamj  otiMr  aooiaee  lel4f. 

The  fox  is  much  troubled  by  flei%  and  tibia  ia  fha 
way  in  which  he  geta  rid  of  them*  Ha  hanta  abovi 
tiU  he  finda  a  lock  of  wool,  and  then  ha  takaa  ft  to  Cha 
riyer,  and  holda  it  in  hia  moath»  and  ao  pnita  tha  and 
of  hia  broah  into  the  water,  and  down  ha  goea  alow|j. 
The  fleaa  ran  away  ihun  the  water,  and  at  laat  tli^ 
all  run  oyer  the  fox'a  noae  into  the  wool,  and  than  Qm 
fox  dipa  his  noae  under  and  leta  the  wool  go  off  with 
the  stream. 

TbitMtoIdMefact.  The  piece  where  en  **  old  gr^  fdow  ** 
wee  Men  performing  thto  feat,  wee  mentioned  by  one  of  my  in* 
formente.    The  fox  wee  leen  in  the  eee  neer  the  Oeithneee  hÌUa. 


3.  ''  Tha  biodh  a's  ceol  nseo,**  as  the  ibx  said  when 
he  ate  the  pipe  bag. 

This  lejing  I  haye  known  from  my  childhood,  and  the  atoqr 
etteched  to  it  to  that  the  fox  being  hnngiy  one  dey,  foond  a  bag- 
pipe, end  proceeded  to  eat  the  beg,  which  to  genereDy,  or  waa  tfll 
lately,  made  of  hide.  There  wee  ftill  a  remnent  of  breath  in  the 
beg,  end  when  the  fox  bit  it  the  drone  gaTo  a  groan,  when  tha  fboK 
enrpriied  but  not  frightened  eeid : — 

*'  Ilore  ie  meat  end  mueic  1** 

4.  From  D.  M.  end  J.  BfecLeod,  Laxford,  Sntberland, 

One  day  the  fox  chanced  to  see  a  fine  cock  and  £eit 
hen,  off  which  he  much  wished  to  dine,  hut  at  his  approach 


ihej  both  jumped  up  into  a  tree.  He  did  not  lose 
heùt^  but  soon  b^gan  to  make  talk  with  them,  inTÌting 
them  at  last  to  go  a  little  waj  with  him.  ''There  was 
no  danger,*'  he  said,  ^  nor  fears  of  his  hurting  them,  for 
there  was  peace  between  men  and  beasts,  find  among 
all  animals."  At  last  after  much  parleying  the  cock 
said  to  the  hen,  **Mj  dear,  do  yon  not  see  a  oonple  of 
hounds  coming  across  the  field  t " 

'*  Tes,**  said  the  hen,  '<  and  they  will  soon  be 
here.- 

**  If  that  is  the  case^  it  is  time  I  should  be  ofi^**  said 
the  sly  fox,  ''  for  I  am  afraid  these  stupid  hounds  may 
not  liavo  hoard  of  the  peace.'* 

And  with  that  he  took  to  his  heels  and  nerer  drew 
breath  till  he  reached  his  den«  G.  D. 


Thif  fable  it  Terj  wtU  Imowo,  sad  if  probably  àmrtà  tnm 
Maop,  though  the  DAiraior  did  not  know  the  fact.  I  gÌTa  it 
bacaoM  the  aoihoritj  cannot  be  impeached,  and  becaose  eqnally 
well-known  fablee  are  found  in  old  Cbineee  booln,  and  are  eappoeed 
to  be  common  propertj.  This  moff  be  pore  tradition,  thoogh  I 
fospect  it  to  be  deriTed  indirectly  from  lome  book.  I  mjtelf  lately 
told  the  fable  of  the  Monkey  and  the  Cats,  in  GaeKo,  to  a  Ugb- 
laader  who  was  going  to  law  ;  and  it  if  impoMible  to  be  tare  of 
the  pedigree  of  rach  well-known  &bles. 

The  next  two  are  of  the  tame  kind,  and  were  BewtoMewhta 
they  arrived. 

5.   THB  rox  Aim  THB  rOX-HUNTBR. 

Once  upon  a  time  a  Tod-hunter  had  been  Teiy 
anxious  to  catch  our  friend  the  fox,  and  had  stopped 
all  the  earths  in  cold  weather.  One  evening  he  feU 
asleep  in  his  hut ;  and  when  he  opened  his  eyes  he 
saw  Uie  fox  sitting  very  demurely  at  the  side  of  the  firei 
It  had  entered  by  the  hole  under  the  door  prorided  for 
the  convenience  of  the  dog,  the  cat^  the  pig,  and  the 
hen. 


270  Wnr  HIGHLAND  TALOb 

<<0h!  ho)*'  said  tlie  Tod-hanter,  **iiow  I  have 
you."  And  he  went  and  sat  down  at  the  hole  to  pie- 
vent  Reynard's  escape. 

<'0h  !  ho  !"  said  the  fox,  "I  will  soon  make  thai 
stupid  fellow  get  up."  So  he  found  the  man's  ahoas^ 
and  putting  them  into  the  fire,  wondered  if  that  would 
make  the  enemy  move. 

**  I  shan't  get  up  for  that^  my  fine  gentleman,**  cried 
the  Tod-hunter. 

Stockings  followed  the  shoes,  coat  and  tronaen 
shared  tlie  same  fate,  but  still  Uie  man  sat  over  the 
hole.  At  last  the  fox  having  set  the  bed  and  bedding 
on  fire,  put  a  light  to  the  straw  on  which  hia  jailor  lay, 
and  it  blazed  up  to  the  ceiling. 

"  No !  that  I  cannot  stand,"  shouted  the  man, 
jumping  up ;  and  the  fox  taking  advantage  of  the 
smoke  and  confusion,  made  good  his  exit. 

NoU  hy  the  (kUeetor. — TbÌ9  it  the  beginning  of  Reineke 
Fucha  in  tho  Ene.  I  cannot  get  any  one  to  write  them  down  in 
Qaclic,  wbicb  yery  few  people  can  write.  Moat  of  the  tales  are 
got  from  my  guide,  tbe  gamekeepor ;  but  I  have  got  them  finom 
many  otbera.  C.  D. 

Having  told  tbia  atory  to  a  man  whom  I  met  near  Oban,  «■  a 
bait,  I  was  told  tbe  following  in  return. — J.  F.  C. 

0.  "  Tho  fox  is  very  wise  indeed.  I  don't  know 
whether  it  is  true  or  not^  but  an  old  follow  told  me 
that  he  had  seen  him  go  to  a  loch  where  there  were 
wild  ducks,  and  take  a  bunch  of  heather  in  his  mouth, 
then  go  into  the  water,  and  swim  down  with  the  wind 
till  ho  got  into  tho  middle  of  the  ducks,  and  thon  he 
let  go  tlie  lioathor  aiul  killed  two  of  them." 

7.    THE    FOX    AND  THE   WRBN& 

A  fox  had  noticed  for  some  days,  a  family  of 
wrens,   off  which    he    wished  to    dine.        Ho  might 


FABLBB.  371 

have  been  satisfied  with  one/  bat  he  was  detennined  to 
have  the  whole  lot^ — ^father  and  eighteen  sons, — 
and  all  so  like  that  he  could  not  tell  one  from  the 
other,  or  the  father  from  the  children. 

**  It  is  no  use  to  kill  one  son,"  he  said  to  himself, 
''because  the  old  cock  will  take  warning  and  flj  awuj 
with  the  seventeen.  I  wish  I  knew  which  is  the  old 
gentlemaa'' 

He  set  his  wits  to  work  to  find  out,  and  one  daj 
seeing  them  all  threshing  in  a  bam,  he  sat  down  to 
watch  them ;  still  he  could  not  be  sure. 

''  Now  I  have  it^**  he  said ;  "  well  done  the  old 
man's  stroke  1     He  hits  true,"  he  cried. 

"  Oh  1"  replied  the  one  he  suspected  of  being  the 
head  of  the  familj,  *'  If  you  had  seen  mj  grand- 
father's strokes,  you  might  have  said  that.'* 

The  sly  fox  pounced  on  the  cock,  ate  him  up  in  a 
trice,  and  then  soon  caught  and  disposed  of  the  eigh- 
teen sons,  all  flying  in  terror  about  the  bam. 

CD. 

• 

Thb  if  oow  to  mo,  bat  there  it  tomething  Hke  it  in  the  Battle 
of  the  Birdi,  where  the  wren  ii  a  ftnner  threshing  in  a  hem. 
Why  the  wren  ihonld  wieM  the  flail  doeè  not  appear,  hot  I 
ioppoee  there  was  eome  good  reaeon  for  it  "  oBoe  open  a  time.'* 

J.  P.  a 

8.  FVom  John  Dewar,  Inreraray,  Angoit  S7|  1860. 

A  fox  one  day  met  a  cock  and  they  b^gan  talking. 

''  How 'many  tricks  canst  thou  dot"  said  the  fox. 

"Well,"  said  the  cock,  << I  could  do  thxee;  how 
many  canst  thou  do  thyself  f 

''  I  could  do  three  score  and  thirteen,"  said  the  fox. 

"What  tricks  canst  thou  dot"  said  the  cock. 

''  Well,"  said  tlie  fox,  ''  my  grandfather  used  to 
shut  one  eye  and  gÌTO  a  great  shout" 


tyt  WEST   HiaHLàND   TAIiBB. 


''  I  could  do  that  myieU;''  said  the  oock. 

**  Do  it^"  said  the  fox.  And  the  oock  ahut  one  eje 
and  crowed  aa  loud  aa  ever  he  coold,  bat  he  ahat  the 
eyo  that  was  next  the  fox,  and  the  fox  gripped  1"««  faj 
the  neck  and  ran  awaj  with  him.  But  the  wife  to 
whom  the  cock  belonged  saw  him  and  cried  out^  **  Let 
go  tlio  cock ;  ho  *8  mine/' 

Say  thou  "  S'a  mo  oiioiubaoh  nnoir  a  m'  ann"  (it 
Ì8  my  own  cock),  said  Uie  cock  to  the  fox. 

Then  the  fox  opened  his  mouth  to  say  as  the  oock 
did,  and  ho  dropped  the  cock,  and  he  sprung  np  on  the 
top  of  a  house,  and  shut  one  eye  and  gave  a  louid  ciow; 
and  Umt  's  all  there  is  of  that  sgeulachd. 

I  find  that  this  is  well-known  in  the  west 

9.    now   THE   WOLF   LOOT  HI8  TAIL. 

One  day  the  wolf  and  the  fox  were  out  together^ 
and  Uiey  stolo  a  dish  of  crowdie.  Now  tho  wolf 
was  tho  biggest  beast  of  the  two,  and  he  had  a  long  tail 
like  a  greyhound,  and  great  teeth. 

The  fox  was  afraid  of  him,  and  did  not  dare  to  say 
a  wonl  when  tho  wolf  ate  the  most  of  tho  crowdie,  and 
left  only  a  little  at  tho  bottom  of  tlie  dish  for  him, 
but  he  determined  to  punish  liim  for  it ;  so  the  next 
night  when  they  were  out  together  the  fox  said  : 

"  I  smell  a  very  nice  cheese,  and  (pointing  to  the 
moonshine  on  the  ice)  there  it  is  too." 

"And how  will  you  get  it?"  said  the  welt 

"  Well,  stop  you  here  till  I  see  if  the  farmer  is 
asleep,  and  if  you  keep  your  tail  on  it^  nobody  will  aeo 
you  or  know  that  it  is  there.  Keep  it  steady.  I  may 
bo  some  time  coming  back.*' 

So  tlio  wolf  lay  down  and  laid  his  tail  on  the 
moonshine  in  the  ice,  and  kept  it  for  an  hour  till  it  was 
fast.      Then  the  fox,  who  had  been  watching  him,  ran 


FABLBB.  273 

in  to  the  fanner  and  said  :  "  The  wolf  is  there;  he  will 
eat  up  the  children, — the  wolf !  the  wolf ! " 

llien  the  farmer  and  his  wife  came  oat  with  sticks 
to  kill  the  wolf,  hut  the  wolf  ran  off  leaving  his  tail 
hehind  him,  and  that's  whj  the  wolf  is  stumpy  tailed 
to  this  day,  though  the  fox  has  a  long  hmsh. 

CD, 

This  it  maniretilj  the  Mmo  at  the  Norte  ttory*— "  Why  the 
bear  it  ttompy  tailed  ?"  and  it  errt  in  atcrihing  a  ttaiD|>y  tail 
to  the  wolf.  There  wat  not  time  for  the  **  Norte  Tnlee  "  to  become 
knoim  to  the  people  who  told  the  ttory,  to  perhapt  thit  may  ba 
a  Norte  tradition  trantferred  from  the  bear  to  the  wolf.  There  it 
another  wolf  ttory  in  Sntherland,  which  wat  told  to  me  by  the 
Dnke  of  8atherland*t  head  foretter  in  1848.  It  wat  told  in 
Qaelic  bj  a  fine  old  highlander,  who  it  now  dead,  flit  tont  have 
taoceeded  him,  and  will  probably  remember  thit  ttory  which  I 
qaote  from  recollection.  J.  F.  C. 

10.     BOW  THB  LASrr  WOLP  WAS  KILIJED  IK  BUTHBBLAim. 

There  was  once  a  time  when  there  were  wolves 
in  Sutherland,  and  a  woman  that  was  living  in  a 
little  town  lost  one  of  her  childrea  Well,  they  went 
all  ahout  the  hills  looking  for  the  lad,  but  they  could 
not  find  him  for  three  days.  Well,  at  the  end  of  that 
time  they  gave  up,  but  there  was  a  young  lad  coming 
home  late  through  a  big  cairn  of  stones,  and  he  heard 
the  crying  of  a  child,  and  a  kind  of  a  noise,  and  he 
went  up  to  the  cairn,  and  what  should  he  see,  in  a 
hole  under  a  big  stone,  but  the  boy  and  two  young 
wolves  with  him. 

Well  he  was  frightened  that  the  old  wolf  would 
oome,  so  he  went  home  to  the  town,  and  got  two  others 
with  him,  and  in  the  morning  they  went  back  to  the 
cairn  and  they  found  the  hole. 

Well,  then,  one  of  the  lads  stopped  outside  to 

T 


274  ^m  HiaHLANO  TAIiHL 

watch,  and  the  other  two  went  in,  and  thqr  began  to 
kill  the  young  wolvee,  and  thej  were  equealing,  and 
the  old  one  heard  them,  and  she  came  numii^  to  tbe 
place,  and  slipped  between  the  lege  of  the  lad  who  waa 
watching,  and  got  her  head  into  the  hole^  bat  he  held 
her  by  the  tail 

*'  Wliat,**  said  the  lad  who  was  inaide  ''ia  keeping 
the  light  from  ua" 

Ma  dhristeab  buk  Fionn  BiminH  noH  aoad. 

'*  If  the  root  of  Fionn  (or  if  the  hairy  root)  breakii 
thou  wilt  know,"  said  the  man  outside. 

Well,  he  held  on,  and  the  lads  that  were  inaide 
killed  the  wolf  and  Uie  young  ones,  and  they  took  the 
boy  home  to  his  mother,  and  his  family  were  aliye  in 
the  tiuio  of  my  grandfather,  and  they  say  they  were 
never  like  other  people. 

Tbia  i«  manifeatlj  the  mudo  m  the  itory  of  Bomidiia  and 
Remua,  but  it  api>eara  on  very  atrong  evidence  that  wolvea  really 
carry  off  and  auckle  children  in  Oude  now,  and  that  these  childreu 
grow  up  to  be  half  aavagea.  It  ia  either  a  (act  in  natural  hiatorj, 
ur  tt  tradition,  believed  to  be  a  fact  in  Sutherland  and  in  Oude. 
I  have  heard  tho  aame  atory  told  in  the  Highlands  of  a  wild  boar, 
but  tho  boar's  tail  would  be  but  a  slippery  hold.  J.  F.  C. 

According  to  Innes  (Scotland  in  tho  Middle  Ages,  Pp.  1S5), 
in  1283,  there  was  an  allowance  for  one  hunter  of  wolvea  at 
Stirling;  and  there  were  wild  boars  fed  at  the  King's  expenaa  in 
1263,  in  Forfarshire.  There  are  plenty  of  wolves  now  in  Scandi- 
navia, and  in  Brittany,  and  wild  boars  in  Germany,  and  elsewhars 
ill  Europe.  The  Qaelic  names  for  welfare  Madaoh,  Alluidh, 
commonly  used  ;  Faol  Cno,  Alla  Mhadadii,  all  of  which  are 
cumpoiod  of  an  epithet,  and  a  word  which  now  moans  dog.  Die. 
etc.     Mao  TiHK,  Earth's  Son ;  Faol,  Armstrong. 

A  Dear  ia  Toko,  Collach,  Fiadh  cuullach. 

The  Fox  appears  as  a  talking  creature  in  several  stories.  So 
doea  the  Bear  in  No.  IX.,  and  the  Wolf  and  Falcon,  No.  lY. 
Ilie  Dog  appears  in  No.  XII. ;  the  Sheep,  Cat,  Cock,  Goose,  Dog, 


PABLM^  375 

and  Bon,  In  No.  XI ;  tbo  Frog  in  No.  XXXIIl ;  the  Col  and  tlie 
Mooio  in  No.  XLIX.  Tbo  Boi  and  tbo  Lioo,  and  tbo  Doto, 
appoar  in  a  wUnrj  to  whSob  I  haTo  rofbrrod  in  No.  IV.  Otbor 
oroatoret,  abo,  not  montionod  in  ttorioa,  are  giliod  witb  ■poeeb, 
bat  tboir  tpoocb  is  gonoralljr  but  a  tranaktion  of  their  notei  into 
GaeHc. 

11.  Bi  Guo»  Bi  Guo»  Bee  CHeeehk,  be  wife,  ttj  the 
Oj8ier-catcheT8»  when  a  stranger  cornea  near  their 
hanntii 

13.  OÒRAOH,  OÒRAOH,  Oawraek^  *"  sill j,**  aaja  the 
Hoodie»  aa  he  aita  on  a  hillock  bj  the  way  aide  and 
bowa  at  the  paaaengera 

13.  Here  ia  another  bit  of  crow  hmgiiage^— «  con- 
Teraation  with  a  frog.  When  it  ia  repeated  in  Gaelic 
it  can  be  made  abaoidl  j  &e  the  notea  of  the  creatorea. 

'^GhiUe  crioada  mhie  Dhoghail  cnir  a  nioa  do 
mhàg. 

GhiUe  crioada  mhie  Dhoghail  coir  a  nioa  do 
mhàg.** 

Chriat'a  aenrant^  eon  of  Dogild,  pot  up  thy  paw. 

^  Tha  eagd  orm,  tha  eagd  ofMi  tha  eagd  onn.'' 

Iter. 

''Gheibh  thn  eòla  gotm  a*a  Mine.  Gheibh  0» 
eòla  gonn  a'a  leine.^ 

ThoQ  dialt  hafe  a  blue  coat  and  a  diirl 

Then  the  frog  pot  iq»  hia  band  and  the  hoodie  took 
kia  to  a  hillock  and  b^gni  to  eat  htm,  aajing; 

•<  Bian  dona  km  1  'a  b«  dooa  riaUi  thn.'* 

Bad  bare  BMt  and  bad  weft  thoo  crec 

''Caile  bhcil  do  gbealladk  mathankr  a^d  tha 
fag,  ^"  whm  »  tkj  good  pfOMiaa  now  r 

SMnifolabkaMda  aslalhftaiaL     SttSif  ol 


176  WUT  HIOHLAMD  TALES. 

It  is  drinking  we  weio  on  that  day, 

"  Tol  ort  a  raid  ghrannda  gar  beag  feola  tha  air 
do  chramhan." 

'<Tol  ort  1"  said  the  hoodie. 

A  hole  in  thee,  ugly  thing  1  how  little  flesh  la  on 
thy  hones. 

Why  the  frog  ii  called  Gilohriat  BfaoDogald,  anl«M  the  story 
was  made  to  fit  tome  real  eyent,  I  do  not  know.  The  atory  used 
to  be  told  by  an  old  lalay  man,  Donald  Hacintyre,  to  Hector  Mao- 
Lean  ;  and  I  remember  to  have  heard  part  of  it  in  my  childhood. 

The  Hoodie  haa  appeared  in  many  places  ahready,  and  he  and 
hia  family,  the  Crowa,  have  been  soothaayen  time  out  of  mind, 
and  in  many  landa.  A  more  miachicTOua,  knowing  bird  does  not 
eziat,  or  one  that  better  deaenrea  his  character  for  wisdom. 

Tlie  old  fable  of  the  bird  which  dropped  a  tortoise  on  a  stone, 
is  enacted  every  day  by  Hoodiei.  Any  one  who  will  take  the 
trouble  to  watch,  may  see  hoodies  on  the  shores  of  the  Weatem 
lalea,  at  low  tide,  flying  up  into  the  air  and  dropping  down 
again. 

It  will  be  found  that  they  are  trying  to  drop  large  itranded 
mnaclea  and  other  ahella,  on  the  atonea  on  the  beach ;  and  if  left 
to  their  own  devices,  they  will  go  on  till  they  succeed  in  cracking 
the  ahell,  and  extracting  the  inhabitant. 

Keepen  who  trap  them  most  successfully,  do  it  by  beating 
them  at  their  own  weapons.  They  put  a  bait  into  a  pool  of  water, 
and  make  a  show  of  hiding  it,  and  set  the  trap  on  a  knoll  at  some 
distance.  The  Hoodie  makes  a  gradual  approach,  reconnoitering 
the  ground  as  he  advances,  and  settling  on  the  knolls  which 
command  a  view,  perhaps  repeating  his  song  of  silly,  silly,  till  he 
settles  on  the  trap,  and  next  morning  his  head  is  on  the  kennel 
door  with  the  mortal  remains  of  other  offenders. 

I  suspect  that  the  Hoodie  waa  made  a  soothsayer  because  of 
his  natural  wisdom. 

1 4.  The  Qrouse  Cock  and  his  wife  are  always  disput- 
ing and  may  be  heard  on  any  fine  evening  or  early 
morning  quarrelling  and  scolding  about  the  stock  of  food. 


FABLIB.  177 

This  is  wbat  the  ben  sayB, — 

**  FaIC  TH178A  'n  LA  UD  'S  'N  LA  UD  BILB." 

And  the  cock»  with  his  deeper  yoioey  replies, — 

''  FaIO  THU8A  *N  ONOO  UD  's  'n  ONOO  UD  MllM." 

See  thou  younder  day,  and  yon  other  day. 
See  thou  younder  hill,  and  yon  other  hill. 

Of  all  the  itorief  I  hAT«  gathered  and  heaid,  thii  ii  all 
I  have  aboat  the  Gtoom.  It  ia  remarkable;  for  if  these  aioriea 
were  bone-made,  and  in  modem  timea,  tbej  woold  lorelj  treat  of 
tbe  only  bird  wboee  birtlut  deaths,  and  marriages  are  cbrooicled 
ia  the  newBpapers»->-and  which  is  peculiar  to  the  British  Isles. 

15.  The  Eagle  and  the  Wren  once  tried  who  could 
fly  highest,  and  the  victor  was  to  be  king  of  the  birds. 
80  the  Wren  flow  straight  up,  and  the  Eagle  flew  in 
great  circles,  and  when  the  Wren  was  tired  he  settled 
on  the  Eagle's  back. 

When  the  Eagle  was  tired  he  stopped  and 

"  C  Am  BHBIL  THU  DBIUBOLAIN  T   URS'  AN  lOLAlR. 

''Tha  misb  n  bo  06  do  obakn,**  urs'  n'  drbolam. 
<'  Where  art  thou,  Wrent**  said  the  Eagle. 
''  I  am  here  above  thee,**  said  the  Wren. 
And  so  the  Wren  won  the  match. 

Tbii  was  told  me  in  my  cbildbood,  I  think,  by  the  Rot.  Mr. 
HacTariab.  There  is  a  mnch  better  Tereion  of  the  ttory  in 
Grimm's**  King  Wren,"  in  which  the  notes  of  many  ereatnree  are 
amde  into  German ;  bat  this  describes  the  flight  of  eagle  and 
correctly  eaoogh.    I  ktely,  8ept  1800,  heard  it  b  8kye. 


16.  Tha  Fios  Fithioh  agud.  Thou  hast  rsTens' 
knowledge,  is  commonly  said  to  children  who  are 
unuffually  knowing  about  things  of  which  they  haye  no 
ostensible  means  of  gaining  knowledge. 

Odin  had  two  ravens  who  names  meant  Mind  and  Memory, 
wìàfk  lold  Ua  tftiythiaff  thai  pasiid  ia  the  world. 


«7^  WIST  HnmLAHD  TALK 

17.  NiAD  AIR  Bridk      Ubr  aik  Inid  KUH  AIK 

CAI80  MAR  AM  BI  BIN  AIO  AN  FHirHSAOH  BRHIDH  AM  BA& 

Nest  at  Candlemaa,  egg  at  inid,  bird  at  PkMh. 
If  that  hath  not  the  Rayen,  death  he  hath. 

Thii  if  rather  a  bit  of  popular  natural  Uatoiy  than  anjtUng 
olae,  bot  it  ■hewa  that  the  ra?en  ia  at  leaat  aa  impcMrtant  a  per- 
ionage  amongit  Celts  aa  the  grooae  ia  amoogat  Sa«ona, 

18.   S'   BIGBAD  THU  8I0D,    AR8  AN   DRIOLAN   'n  UB 
THUNN   ■»  QOB  AN8  AN  FhaIRIGR. 

Thoa*Tt  lessened  by  thatt  said  the  Wien,  when  he 
dipped  his  beak  in  the  sea. 

There  are  a  great  namber  of  nmilar  atoriea  onrrent  in  the 
islanda,  bot  it  ia  rtrj  hard  to  peraoade  any  one  that  aoch  trifles 
can  ba  of  any  yalue.  I  ha?e  lately  heard  of  a  namber  of  atoriae 
of  the  kind.    For  example — 

1 9.  John  Mackinnon,  stable-boy  at  Broadford,  in 
Skye,  tolls  that  "  a  man  was  one  day  walking  along 
the  road  with  a  creel  of  herrings  on  his  back,  and  two 
foxes  saw  him,  and  the  one,  who  was  the  biggest^ 
said  to  the  other,  'Stop  thou  here,  and  follow  the 
man,  and  I  will  run  round  and  pretend  that  I  am 
dead/  So  he  ran  round,  and  stretched  himself  on  the 
road.  The  man  came  on,  and  when  he  saw  the  fox, 
he  was  well  pleased  to  find  so  fine  a  beast,  and  he 
picked  him  up,  and  threw  him  into  the  creel,  and  he 
walked  on.  But  the  fox  threw  the  herrings  out  of  the 
creel,  and  the  other  followed  and  picked  them  up  ; 
and  when  the  creel  was  empty,  the  big  fox  leaped  out 
and  ran  away,  and  that  is  how  tliey  got  the  herrings. 

Well,  they  went  on  together  till  they  came  to  a 
smith's  house,  and  there  was  a  horse  tied  at  the  dooTi 
and  ho  had  a  golden  shoe,  and  there  was  a  name  on  it 

'* '  I  will  go  and  read  what  is  written  on  that  shoe,* 


FABLB*  »79 

said  the  big  fox,  and  he  went ;  but  the  horse  lifted 
his  foot,  and  strack  a  kick  on  him,  and  drove  his 
brains  out 

"  '  Ghill'  ghiir  ars  an  siunnach  beag  cha  Qgolair  mi 
8*  cha  *n  ail  learn  a  bhl' 

'' '  Lad,  Lad,'  said  the  little  fox,  '  no  scholar  me, 
nor  wish  I  to  be  ;*"  and,  of  course,  he  got  the  herrings, 
thoogh  my  informant  did  not  saj  sa 

20.  A  boj,  Alexander  Mackenzie,  who  walked 
with  me  from  Carbost^  in  Skye^  told  that  a  bee  seillean 
met  a  moose  and  said, 

''  Teann  a  nail  'ns  gun  deanamaid  tlgh.** 

''  Gome  over  till  we  make  a  house.*' 

"  I  will  not^"  said  Luchag,  the  mousie. 

Fear  dha  'n  dug  thusa  do  mhil  shamraidh 
Deanadh  e  tigh  gheamhraidh  dhuit 
Tha  tigh  agamsa  fo  thalamh 
Nach  ruig  air  gallian  na  gaoith 
Bith  tusa  an  ad  isean  pheallach 
A  ruidh  air  barradh  nan  craobh. 

He  to  whom  thou  gavest  thj  summer  honey, 
Let  him  make  a  winter  house  for  thee  ; 
I  have  a  little  house  under  the  ground. 
That  can  reach  neither  cold  nor  breese, 
Thou  wilt  be  a  ragged  creature, 
Bunning  on  the  tops  of  the  treesi 

2L  The  same  boy  told  that  there  was  a  mouse  in 
the  hill,  and  a  mouse  in  a  ftam. 

**  It  were  well,*'  said  the  hill  mouse,  ''  to  be  in  the 
farm  where  one  might  get  things." 

Said  the  farm  mouse,  "*  8'  fhearr  an  t^th."    Better 


^ 


t8o  WB8T  HIGHLAND  TALB. 

22.  The  following  is  not  Btrictly  speaking  a  frble, 
but  it  is  a  sort  of  moral  tale^  and  may  be  daased  with 
finblea.  It  seems  to  inculcate  a  lesson  of  self-reliance  and 
self-help.  I  wrote  it  in  English  from  the  Gaelic  repe- 
tition of  John  Mackenzie  at  Inyerary  in  1859,  and 
made  him  repeat  it  in  I860,  when  I  made  up  several 
omissiona  Other  versions  liave  come  to  me  from  otlior 
sources,  and  the  tale  seems  to  be  well  known  in  the 
Highlands.  If  it  is  in  any  book,  I  have  not  been  able 
to  find  it.  Mackenzie  says  he  learned  it  from  a  native 
of  Uist,  and  I  have  a  very  well  written  version  of  it^ 
told  by  Macintyre  in  Benbecula,  to  Mr.  Torrie.  It  is 
called  the  **  Provost  of  London,"  and  begins  with  the 
family  liistory  of  the  hero  of  the  tale.  A  great  lady 
fell  in  love  with  a  poor  Highland  lad,  and  he  was 
ashamed  of  the  love  she  had  taken  for  him,  and  went 
away  to  an  uncle  who  was  a  colonel,  and  who  got  him 
mode  a  ni(yor.  The  lady  took  to  black  melancholy,  and 
he  WU8  sent  for,  and  they  married.  Ho  went  to  the 
wars,  bought  a  small  estate,  was  killed,  and  his  brother- 
in-law  brought  up  his  son.  Then  comes  the  dream, 
the  journey  for  three  years  in  Scotland,  Ireland,  and 
England  ;  the  meeting  with  "  one  of  the  people  of 
(yanibridge,**  and  the  rest  of  the  incidents  nearly  as 
they  wore  told  to  mo  by  Mackenzie,  but  in  different 
words. 


XVIIJ. 
BAILLIE  LUNNAIN. 

Told  bj  John  Maekeniie,  at  loTerarj,  to  J.  7.  C.    Anguft  1869 

and  1860. 

npH£R£  wore  at  8ome  time  of  the  world  two  brothers 
-^  in  one  fnnn,  and  thej  were  very  great  friendB,  and 
thej  had  each  a  eon ;  and  one  of  the  brothers  died, 
and  he  left  hia  brother  guardian.  When  the  lad  was 
near  to  be  grown  up,  he  was  keeping  the  farm  for  hia 
mother  almost  as  well  as  his  fiitiier  oould  have  done. 
One  ni^t  he  saw  a  dream  in  his  sleep,  the  most  beauti- 
ful lady  that  there  was  in  the  world,  and  he  dreamed 
of  her  three  times,  and  he  resolved  to  marry  her  and 
no  other  woman  in  the  world  ;  and  he  would  not  stay 
in  the  farm,  and  he  grew  pale,  and  his  fiither*s  brothw 
could  not  think  whai  ailed  him ;  and  he  was  always 
asking  him  what  was  wrong  with  him.  **  Well,  never 
mind,"  one  day  he  said,  **  brother  of  my  fiither,  I  have 
seen  a  dream,  the  most  beautiM  woman  that  there  is 
in  the  world,  and  I  will  marry  no  other  but  she  ;  and 
I  will  now  go  out  and  search  for  her  over  the  whole 
world  tiU  I  find  her." 

Said  the  uncle,  **  Son  of  my  brother,  I  have  a 
hundred  pounds  ;  I  will  give  them  to  thee,  and  go  ; 
and  when  that  is  spent  come  back  to  me,  and  I  will 
give  thee  another  hundred." 

So  the  lad  took  the  hundred  pounds^  and  he  went 


282  WBST  HIGHLAND  TALBb 

• 

to  France,  and  then  he  went  to  Spain,  and  all  oyer  the 
world,  but  he  could  not  find  the  lady  he  had  seen  in 
hÌB  sleep.  At  last  he  came  to  London,  and  he  had 
spent  all  his  monej,  and  his  clothes  were  worn,  and  he 
did  not  know  what  he  should  do  for  a  night's  lodging. 

Well,  as  he  was  wandering  about  the  streets,  whom 
should  he  see  but  a  quiet-looking  respectable  old 
woman ;  and  he  spoke  to  her ;  and,  from  less  to  moro^ 
he  told  her  all  tliat  had  happened  to  him ;  and  she 
was  well  pleased  to  see  a  countryman,  and  she  said, 

"  I,  too,  am  a  Highland  woman,  though  I  am  in 
this  town.*'  And  she  took  him  to  a  small  house  that 
she  had,  and  she  gave  him  meat  and  clothes. 

And  she  said,  "  Go  out  now  and  take  a  walk ; 
maybe  thou  mayest  see  here  in  one  day  what  thou 
mightest  not  see  in  a  year." 

On  the  next  day  he  was  out  taking  a  walk  about  the 
town,  and  he  saw  a  woman  at  a  window,  and  he  knew 
her  at  once,  for  she  was  the  lady  he  had  seen  in  his 
sleep,  and  he  went  back  to  the  old  woman. 

"  How  went  it  with  thee  this  day,  Gktel  I "  said 
she. 

"  It  went  well,"  said  he. 

"  Oh,  I  have  seen  the  lady  I  saw  in  my  sleep," 
said  he.     And  he  told  her  all  about  it. 

Tlien  the  old  woman  asked  about  the  house  and  the 
street ;  and  when  she  knew — "  Thou  hast  seen  her," 
said  sha  "  That  is  all  thou  wilt  see  of  her.  That  is 
the  daughter  of  the  Bailie  of  London  ;  but  I  am  her 
foster  mother,  and  I  would  be  right  glad  if  she  would 
marry  a  countryman  of  my  own.  Now,  do  thou  go 
out  on  the  morrow,  and  I  will  give  tlioo  fine  liigliland 
clothes,  and  thou  wilt  find  the  lady  walking  in  sudi  a 
street ;  herself  and  three  maidens  of  company  will  go 
out  together ;  and  do  thou  tread  on  her  gown  ;  and 


BAILLIB  LUNKAIK.  tB$ 

when  she  iuniB  round  to  see  what  is  the  matter,  do 
thou  speak  to  her.** 

Well,  the  lad  did  this.  He  went  out  and  he 
found  the  ladj,  and  he  set  his  foot  on  her  dress,  and 
the  gown  rent  from  the  hand ;  and  when  she  turned 
round  he  said,  "  I  am  asking  you  much  grace — ^it  was 
an  accident" 

"  It  was  not  jour  fiiult ;  it  was  the  fiiult  of  the 
dressmaker  that  made  the  dress  so  long,"  said  she. 

And  she  looked  at  him  ;  and  when,  she  saw  how 
handsome  he  was,  she  said,  **  Will  you  be  so  kind  as 
to  come  home  with  me  to  my  father's  house  and  take 
something  1** 

So  the  lad  went  and  sat  down,  and  before  she 
asked  him  anything  she  set  down  wine  before  him 
and  said,  "  Quicker  is  a  drink  than  a  tale.*' 

When  he  had  taken  that,  he  began  and  he  told  her 
all  that  happened,  and  how  he  had  seen  her  in  his 
sleep,  and  when,  and  she  was  well  pleased. 

*'  And  I  saw  thee  in  my  sleep  on  the  same  nighty** 
said  she. 

He  went  away  that  day,  and  the  old  woman  thai 
he  was  lodging  with  asked  him  how  he  had  got  on, 
and  he  told  her  everything  that  had  happened ;  and 
she  went  to  the  Bailie's  dau^ter,  and  told  her  all  the 
good  she  could  think  of  about  the  young  lad ;  and 
after  that  he  was  often  at  the  Bailie's  house  ;  and  at 
last  the  daughter  said  she  would  marry  him.  **  But  I 
foar  that  will  not  do,"  said  she.  **  Oo  home  for  a  year, 
and  when  thou  comest  back  I  will  contrive  to  many 
thee,'*  said  she,  '*  for  it  is  the  law  of  this  country  ihiX 
no  one  must  be  married  unless  the  Bailie  himself  gives 
her  by  the  hand  to  her  bridegroom,"  said  she ;  and  she 
left  blessing  with  him. 

Well,  the  lad  went  away  as  the  girl  said,  and  he 


284  WKT  HIGHLAND  TALB. 

was  putting  everything  in  order  at  home ;  and  he  told 
his  other's  brother  all  that  had  happened  to  him;  but 
when  the  year  was  nearly  out  he  set  off  for  London 
again,  and  he  had  the  second  hundred  with  him,  and 
some  good  oat-meal  cakes. 

On  the  road,  whom  should  he  meet  but  a  Sassanach 
gentleman  who  was  going  the  same  road,  and  they  be- 
gan to  talk. 

"  Where  art  thou  going  I"  said  the  Saxon. 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  London,^  said  he 

**  When  I  was  there  last  I  set  a  net*  in  a  street^ 
and  I  am  going  to  see  if  it  is  as  I  left  it  K  it  is 
well  I  will  take  it  with  me  ;  if  not^  I  will  leave  it" 

"  Well,*'  said  the  other,  <'  that  is  but  a  sUly  thing. 
How  can  lintseod  bo  as  thou  hast  left  it  I  It  must  bo 
grown  up  and  trodden  down  by  ducks  and  geese,  and 
eaten  by  hens  long  ago.  I  am  going  to  London,  too  ; 
but  I  am  going  to  marry  the  Bailie's  daughter.'* 

Well,  they  walked  on  together,  and  at  long  last  the 
Saxon  began  to  get  hungry,  and  he  had  no  food  with 
him,  and  there  was  no  house  near ;  and  he  said  to  the 
other,  "  Wilt  thou  give  me  some  of  thy  food  V* 

"  Well,**  said  the  Gael,  "  I  have  but  poor  food — 
oaten  bread ;  I  will  give  you  some  if  you  will  take  it ; 
but  if  I  were  a  gentleman  like  you  I  would  never  travel 
without  my  own  mother." 

"  How  can  I  travel  with  my  mother  1 "  said  the 
Saxoa  **  She  is  dead  and  buried  long  ago,  and  rotting 
in  the  earth ;  if  not,  why  should  I  take  her  with 
mer* 

And  lie  took  the  oat  cake  and  ate  it,  and  they  wont 
on  their  way. 

They  liad  not  gone  far  when  a  heavy  shower  came 

*  To  Bet  a  net  and  to  bow  lint  are  ezpreBsed  bj  the  same 
wordB. 


BAILLH  LUMKAUr.  tB$ 

on,  and  the  Gael  had  a  rough  plaid  about  him,  but  the 
Saxon  had  none  ;  and  he  said  to  the  other, 

"  Wilt  thou  lend  me  thj  plaid  1" 

"  I  will  lend  jou  a  part  of  it^"  said  the  Gael ; 
''  but  if  I  were  a  gentleman  like  you,  I  would  never 
travel  without  my  houae,  and  I  would  not  be  indebted 
to  any  one  for  favours.** 

"  Thou  art  a  fool,"  said  the  Saxon ;  "  my  house  is 
four  storeys  high.  How  could  any  man  carry  a  house 
that  is  four  storeys  high  about  with  him  1  *' 

But  he  wrapped  the  end  of  the  Highlander's  plaid 
about  his  shoulders,  and  they  went  on. 

Well,  they  had  not  gone  £ur  till  they  came  to  a 
small  river,  and  the  water  was  deep  after  the  rain,  and 
there  was  no  bridge,  for  in  those  days  bridges  were  not 
so  plentiful  as  they  are  now ;  and  the  Saxon  would  not 
wet  his  feet,  so  he  said  to  the  Highlander, 

"  Wilt  thou  carry  me  over  ?*' 

''  Well,**  said  the  Gael,  "  I  don*t  mind  if  I  do ; 
but  if  I  were  a  gentleman  like  you,  I  would  never 
travel  without  my  own  bridge,  and  I  would  not  be  in 
any  man*s  debt  for  favours." 

*'  Thou  art  a  silly  fellow,**  said  the  Saxon.  **  How 
can  any  man  travel  about  with  a  bridge  that  is  made 
of  stone  and  limei  Thou  art  but  a  'bnrraidh,*  and 
weighs  as  much  as  a  house  1** 

But  he  got  on  the  back  of  hia  fellow-traveller 
nevertheless,  and  they  travelled  on  till  they  got  to 
London.  Then  the  Saxon  went  to  the  house  of  the 
Baillie,  and  the  other  went  to  the  litUe  house  of  his 
old  countrywoman,  who  was  the  foater-mother  of  the 
Bailie*s  daughter. 

Well,  the  Saxon  gentleman  began  to  tell  the 
Bailie  all  that  had  happened  to  him  by  the  way  ;  and 
he  said— 


a  86  WMT  HIOHLAND  TALB. 

*'  I  met  with  a  Gael  by  the  way,  and  he  was  a 
perfect  fool — the  greatest  booby  that  man  ever  aaw. 
He  told  me  that  he  had  sown  lint  here  a  year  ago  in 
a  street^  and  that  he  was  coming  to  fetch  it>  if  he  should 
find  it  as  he  left  it,  but  that  if  he  did  not>  he  would 
leave  it ;  and  how  should  he  find  that  after  a  year  t 
He  told  me  I  should  never  travel  without  my  mother, 
and  my  house,  and  my  bridge  ;  and  how  could  a  man 
travel  with  idl  these  things  1  But  though  he  was 
notliing  but  a  fool,  he  was  a  good-natured  fellow,  for 
he  gave  me  some  of  his  food,  and  lent  me  a  bit  of  his 
plaid,  and  he  carried  me  over  a  river." 

'*  I  know  not  but  he  was  as  wise  as  the  man  that 
was  speaking  to  him,"  said  the  Bailie ;  for  he  was  a 
wise  man.    "  I'll  tell  you  what  he  meant^"  said  he. 

"  Well,  I  will  show  tliat  he  was  a  fool  as  great  as 
ever  was  seen,"  said  the  Saxon. 

"  He  has  loft  a  girl  in  this  town,"  said  the  Bailie, 
"  and  he  is  come  to  see  if  she  is  in  the  same  mind  as 
she  was  when  he  left  hor  ;  if  so,  he  will  take  her  with 
him,  if  not,  he  will  leave  her;  he  has  set  a  net^"  said'he. 
**  Your  mother  nourished  you,  and  a  gentleman  like 
you  should  have  his  own  nourishment  with  him.  He 
meant  that  you  sliould  not  be  dependent  on  him.  It 
was  the  booby  that  was  with  him,"  said  the  Bailie. 
*'  A  gentleman  like  you  sliould  have  his  own  shelter, 
and  your  house  is  your  shelter  when  your  are  at  homa 
A  bridge  is  made  for  crossing  a  river,  and  a  man 
should  always  be  able  to  do  that  without  help  ;  and 
the  man  was  right,  and  ho  was  no  fool,  but  a  smart 
lad,  and  I  should  like  to  see  hhn,"  said  the  Bailie  ;  . 
**  and  I  would  go  to  fetch  him  if  I  knew  where  he 
was,"  said  ha  According  to  another  version,  the  house 
and  bridge  meant  a  coach  and  a  saddle-horsa 

\Vell,  the  next  day  the  Bailie  went  to  the  house 


BAILUI  LUNKàIK.  287 

where  the  kd  was,  and  he  aaked  him  to  come  home  to 
his  dinner ;  and  the  lad  came,  and  he  told  the  Bailie 
that  he  had  understood  all  that  had  been  said. 

" Now,"  said  he,  "as  it  is  the  law  that  no  man 
maj  be  married  here  unless  the  Bailie  gives  him  the 
bride  by  the  hand,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  give  me 
the  girl  that  I  have  come  to  marry,  if  she  is  in  the 
same  mind  I     I  will  have  everything  ready." 

And  the  Bailie  said,  *'  I  will  do  that,  my  smart 
lad,  to-morrow,  or  whenever  thou  dost  choosa  I 
would  go  &rther  than  that  for  such  a  smart  boy," 
said  he. 

"  Well,  I  will  be  ready  at  such  a  house  to-morrow," 
said  the  lad ;  and  he  went  away  to  the  foster-mother's 
house. 

When  the  morrow  came,  the  Bailie's  daughter  dis- 
guised herself,  and  she  went  to  the  house  of  her  foster- 
mother,  and  the  Gael  had  got  a  churchman  there  ;  and 
the  Bailie  came  in,  and  he  took  his  own  daughter  by 
the  hand ;  but  she  would  not  give  her  hand  to  the 
lad. 

*'  Give  thy  hand,  girl,"  said  the  BaUie.  ''  It  is 
an  honour  for  Uiee  to  marry  such  a  smart  lad."  And 
he  gave  her  to  him,  and  Uiey  were  married  according 
to  law. 

Then  the  Bailie  went  home,  and  he  was  to  give 
his  daughter  by  the  hand  to  the  Saxon  gentleman  that 
day  ;  but  the  daughter  was  not  to  be  found  ;  and  he 
was  a  widower,  and  she  was  keeping  the  house  fi>r 
him,  and  tliey  could  not  find  her  anywhere. 

"  Well,"  said  the  BaiUe,  <"  I  wiU  lay  a  wager  that 
Gael  has  got  her,  after  all"  And  the  Gael  came  in 
with  the  daughter,  and  he  told  them  everything  just 
as  it  had  happened,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end, 
and  how  he  had  plenty  in  his  own  country. 


288 


monLANii 


And  ihe  BoiUe  mA,  ""  Wdl,  mm  I  mjidr  imn 
giren  thee  my  daii|^(er  by  the  hand,  it  k  a  oittri^ge^ 
and  I  am  glad  that  ahe  haa  got  a  amari  lad  like  thee 
for  a  huabaiid.'' 

And  they  made  a  wedding  that  hated  a  year^and 
a  day,  and  they  lÌTed  happily  ever  after,  and  if  tbey 
have  not  died  since  then  they  are  alive  yet 


XVIIc 
THE  SUM  SWARTHY  CHAMPION. 

From  JuiMt  Wibon,  bHiid  fiddler,  UUj,  1869. 

n^HERE  was  a  poor  man  dweUing  in  Aid  na  n 
-^  XJamha,  and  a  aon  was  bom  to  him,  and  he  gave 
him  school  and  learning  till  he  was  fourteen  years  of 
aga  When  he  was  fourteen  years  of  age^  he  said  to 
his  father, 

"  Father,  it  is  time  for  me  to  be  doing  for  myself^ 
if  thou  wouldst  gtye  me  a  fishing-rod  and  a  basket** 

The  poor  man  found  erery  chance  till  he  got  a 
fishing-rod  and  a  basket  for  him.  When  he  got  the 
fishing-rod  and  the  basket^  he  went  round  about  Loch 
Aird  na  n  Uamha,  and  took  down  (by)  Loch  Thora- 
bais  ;  and  after  he  had  fished  Loch  Thorabais  closely, 
he  came  to  Loch  Phort  an  Eillean  ;*  and  after  he  had 
fished  Loch  Phort  an  Eillean  before  him,  he  took  out 
by  Loch  Allalaidh  He  stayed  the  night  in  Aird 
Eileastraidh,  and  every  trout  he  had  left  with  a  poor 
woman  that  was  there. 

On  the  morrow  he  thought  that  he  would  rise  out, 
and  that  he  would  betake  himself  to  Eirinn.  He 
came  to  the  garden  of  Aird  Luieasdail,  and  he  plucked 
with  him  sixteen  apples,  and  then  he  came  to  Mull  of 
Otha.t     He  threw   an  apple  out  into  the  sea,  and 

•  The  lake  in  which  it  Um  isbiid  where  the  Lerds  of  the  bice 
had  their  dwellÌBg. 

t  The  aeareet  pobt  to  belsod. 

U 


290  Wnr  HIOHLàMD  TAIML 

he  gare  a  step  on  it:  lie  threw  the  next  one^  and  1m 
gaTe  a  step  on  it :  he  threw  thus  one  after  one^  atfl 
he  came  to  the  sixteenth,  and  the  aJxteenth  took  him 
on  shore  in  Eirinn. 

When  he  was  on  shore  he  shook  his  ean^  and  ka 
thought  that  it  was  in  no  sorry  place  he  would  stay. 


J 


**  He  sMnred  it  Meheaps  from  sea  heaps. 
And  M  pUjbeDi  from  plajbeDa — 
Ae  a  forioue  winter  wind- 
So  ewifUy,  ipnioely,  cheerflj, 
Right  proodlj, 

Throogfa  glene  end  bigb-tope, 
And  no  etop  mede  be 
Until  be  ceme 

To  city  end  coart  ofODombnallL 
He  gmTo  e  cheery,  light  leep 
Oer  top  end  turret 
Of  court  end  city 
or  O'DomhnoilL'** 

0'  Domlmaill  took  much  anger  and  rage  that  such 
an  unseemly  ill  stripling  should  come  into  his  oonit^ 
while  he  had  a  doorkeeper  for  his  town. 

"  I  will  not  believe,"  said  the  Champion,  hut  ^  that 
thou  art  taking  anger  and  rage,  O'DomhnuilL" 

"  WoU,  then,  I  am,"  said  O'Domhnuill,  "  if  I  did 
but  know  at  whom  I  should  let  it  out" 

"  My  good  man,"  said  the  Champion,  ''  coming  in 
was  no  easier  for  me  than  going  out  again  would  be."* 

"  Thou  goest  not  out,"  said  O'Domhnuill,  "  until 
thou  tellest  mo  from  whence  thou  camesi" 

'*  I  ceme  from  burry-akarry, 
From  the  end  of  endleas  spring, 

*  The  only  authority  for  writing  this  as  poetry  is  the  rhythm 

and  alliteration  of  the  original. 


THBtLOr  SWABIHT  GBAHnOV.  tfl 

From  Um  lored  iwaBB j  glen-* 

A  night  in  hliaj  and  a  night  in  Mm, 

A  night  on  oold  watching  caiina. 

On  the  faoe  of  a  moontain 

In  the  Scotch  ldng*a  town 

Wat  I  born. 

A  aoiledt  aorrj  Champion  am  I, 

Though  I  happened  npon  thia  town.*' 

*<  What^"  said  O'Dornhnoill,  *'  canst  thou  do,  oh 
Champion  I  Sorely,  with  all  the  diatance  thoa  hast 
travelled,  thon  canst  do  something." 

**  I  was  once,"  said  he,  **  that  I  coold  ^laj 
a  harp." 

**  Well,  then,"  said  O'Domhnuill,  "  it  is  I  mjaelf 
that  have  got  the  hest  harpers  in  the  five-fifths  of 
Eirinn,  or  in  the  bridge  of  the  first  of  the  people,  soeh 
as — Ruairidh  0*Cridheagan,  Tonnaid  O'OioUagan,  and 
Thaog  O'Chnthag." 

"  Let's  hear  them  playing,"  said  the  Champioti*  •  ^ 

**  Hiey  oonld  play  tnnea  and  **  unr  **  and  *'oaaAiB|"' 
Trampling  thinga,  tightened  atringt, 
Warrion,  heroea,  and  ghoets  on  their  iMt, 
Ghoetf  and  tpeotreti  illneaa  and  ferer, 
They  *d  set  in  aoond  lasting  sleep 
The  whole  great  world, 
With  the  fweetneai  of  the  calming  tnnea 
Hiat  the  harpeft  ooold  play.** 

The  mnsio  did  not  please  the  Champion.  He 
eani^t  the  harps,  and  he  crushed  them  under  hia  feet, 
and  be  set  them  on  the  fire,  and  made  himself  a  warm- 
ÌQgy  and  a  sound  wanning  at  them. 

01>omhnuill  took  much  lofty  rage  that  a  man  had 
come  into  his  court  who  ahould  do  the  like  of  thia  to 

**  My  good  man,  I  will  not  believe  that  thou  ait 
aoi  taking  anger,"  said  the  Champion. 


tgt  mm  BSOBLàMÙ  tAUtL     ^ 

"^  Well,  then,  I  Am,  if  I  did  but  know  at  wham  I 
thould  let  it  out" 

**  Back,  m^  good  man;  it  was  no  eaaier  ftrme  to 
lireak  thj  haipa  than  to  make  them  whole  again,"  aaid 
the  Champion. 

**  I  will  gÌTe  ^ything  to  hare  them  made  whole 
again,"  aaid  (yDomhnnill 

"  For  two  timea  fiTe  marka  I  will  make  thy  havpe 
as  good  aa  thej  were  before^"  aaid  the  Champion. 

''  ThoQ  abalt  get  that^**  aaid  O'DomhnnilL 

O'Domhnuill  gave  him  th^  mado^  and  he  aeiied 
on  the  fill  of  hia  two  palma  of  the  ashes,  and  he  made 
a  harp  for  Ruairidh  O'Cridheagan ;  and  one  tat  Tor- 
maid  O'Giollagan ;  and  one  for  Thaog  O'Chuthag;  and 
a  great  choral  harp  for  himself 

"  Let's  hear  thy  music,*'  said  CDornhnuilL 

"  Thou  shalt  hear  that,  my  good  man,"  said  th^ 
Champion. 

The  Champion  began  to  play,  and  och !  but  he  waa 
the  boy  behind  the  harp. 

*'  Re  ooold  pUy  tunm,  and  van  and  oboadi 
Trampling  thiogi ,  tighteoMÌ  •tringi , 
Warrion,  heroes,  and  gboeta  on  their  feet,' 
OhosU  and  iouIb,  and  sickneaaand  fover, 
lliat  woald  set  in  found  laatpg  sleep 
The  whole  great  world 
With  the  sweetness  of  the  calming  timea 
That  the  champion  could  plaj.** 

"Thou  art  melodious,  oh  Champion!"  said 
O'DomhnuilL 

When  the  harpers  heard  the  Champion  playing, 
they  betook  themselves  to  another  chamber,  and 
thougli  he  had  followed  on,  still  they  had  not  come  to 
the  fora 


TBI  8LIM  HWAMHT  OBiHnOV.  I93 

O'Domhntiill  went  àwmj,  and  lie  sent  a  bidding  to 
meat  to  the  Champion. 

"Tell  the  good  man  thai  he  will  not  haye  thai 
much  to  gloom  on  me  when  I  go  at  mid-daj  to-morroWy" 
said  the  Champion. 

O'Domhnoili  took  much  proud  rage  thai  such  a 
man  should  come  into  his  courts  and  thai  he  would 
not  take  meat  from  hint  He  sent  up  a  fringed  shirty 
and  a  storm  mantle. 

"Where  is  this  going!"  said  the  Champion. 

"  To  thee,  oh  Champion,**  said  thej. 

"  Saj  you  to  the  good  man  thai  he  will  not  hayeso 
much  as  thai  to  gloom  on  me  when  I  go  at  mid-daj 
to-morrow/*  said  the  Champion. 

O'Domhnuill  took  much  anger  and  rage  thai 
such  a  man  had  come  into  his  court  and  .would  not 
either  take  meat  or  dress  from  hint  He  sent  up  fiye 
hundred  Galloglachs  to  watch  the  Champion,  so  thai 
O'Domhnuill  might  not  be  afironted  bj  his  going  out 
by  any  way  but  by  the  door. 

"  Wlioro  are  you  going!**  said  the  Champion. 

"  To  watch  thee,  Champion,  so  that  thou  shouldsi 
not  go  to  aflrpnt  O'Domhnuill,  and  not  to  let  thee  out 
but  as  thou  shouldsi,**  said  they. 

**  Lie  down  there,**  said  the  Champion,  "  and  I  will 
let  you  know  when  I  am  going.**.: 

They  took  his  advice,  and  they  lay  down  beside 
him,  and  when  the  dawn  broke,  the  Champion  went 
into  his  garments. 

"  Where  are  my  watchers^  for  I  am  going  !**  said 
the  Champion. 

**  If  thou  shouldsi  stir,**  said  the  great  Galloglach, 
"  I  would  make  a  sharp  sour  shrinking  for  thee  with 
plough-board  in  my  hand.'* 

llie  Champion  leaped  on  the  point  of  his  pin%  and 


294  wnr  moHLAVD  taub. 

he  went  over  top  and  turret  of  oonit  and  dty  of 
O'DomhnuilL 

The  Galloglach  threw  the  ploogh-hoard  that  waa  in 
hia  hand,  and  he  alew  four  and  twenty  penona  of  the 
very  people  of  O'DomhnuilL 

Whom  ahoold  the  Champion  meet^  but  the  track- 
ing kd  of  O'Domhnoilly  and  he  said  to  him — 

*'  Here's  for  thee  a  little  aoor  grej  weed,  and  go  in 
and  rab  it  to  the  moutha  of  thoee  whom  it  killed  and 
bring  them  alive  again,  and  earn  for  thyself  twenty 
calving  cows,  and  look  behind  thee  when  thou  partest 
from  me^  whom  thou  shalt  see  coming." 

When  the  tracking  lad  did  this  he  saw  no  being 
coming,  but  he  saw  the  Champion  thirteen  miles  on 
the  other  side  of  Luimineach  (limerick). 

'*  He  mored  at  lea-heaiNi  o*  lea-heapi, 
And  M  plajballs  o'  plajbsUs, 
Aj  a  funoM  winter  wind — 
So  swiftly,  iprocelj,  cbeerilj, 
Right  proudlj, 

Throagk  glens  and  high  tops, 
And  lie  made  no  stop 
Until  be  reached 
MacSeathain,*  the  Southern  Earl.*' 

lie  struck  in  the  door.  Said  MacSeathain,  the 
southern  Earl,  "Who's  that  in  the  door V* 

"  I  am  Duradan  o'  Duradan  Dust  of  Dust,"  said 
the  champion. 

"Let  in  Dust  of  Dust,"  said  MacSeathain,  the 
southern  £arl ;  "  no  being  must  be  in  my  door  with- 
out getting  ia" 

They  let  him  in. 

"What  couldst  thou  do,  Duradan  o*  Duradan  I" 
said  the  southern  EarL 

*  Seathain  is  sapposed  to  be  John,  therefore  Johnson. 


1HB  8LIM  SWABTHT  OHAVnOV.  295 

''I  was  on  a  time,  and  I  could  plaj  a  joggle,** 
said  he. 

"Well,  then,  it  ia  I  myaelf  that  have  the  beet 
juggler  in  the  five-fifths  of  Eirinn,  or  the  bridge  of  the 
first  of  the  people,  as  is  Taog  Bratach  Mac  a  Cheallaich, 
lascally  Taog,  the  son  of  Concealment" 

They  got  up  the  juggler. 

*' WhaA^*'  said  the  southern  Earl  ''is  the  trick  that 
thou  canst  do,  Dust  of  DustV 

**  Well,  I  was  on  a  time  that  I  eould  bob  my  ear 
off  my  cheek,"  said  he. 

llie  Champion  went  and  he  takes  the  ear  off  the 
cheek. 

Said  rascally  Taog,  the  son  of  Concealment,  **l   y 
could  do  that  myself" 

He  went  and  he  took  down  his  ear,  and  up  he 
could  not  bring  it !  but  the  Champion  put  up  his  own 
ear  as  it  was  before. 

The  Earl  took  much  anger  and  rage  that  the  ear 
should  be  off  liis  juggler.  ^ 

"  For  five  merks  twice  over,"  said  the  Champion, 
*'  I  would  set  the  ear  as  it  was  befora" 

He  got  the  five  merks  twice  over,  and  he  put  the 
ear  on  the  juggler  as  it  was  before. 

"  I  see,"  said  the  Earl,  "ihit  the  juggling  of  this 
night  is  with  thea" 

Rascally  Taog  went  away ;  and  thou^  they  should 
have  staid  there  the  length  of  the  night,  he  would  not 
have  come  near  ihem. 

Then  the  Champion  went  and  he  set  a  great  ladder 
up  against  the  moon,  and  in  one  place  of  it  he  put  a 
hound  and  a  hare,  and  in  another  place  of  it  he  put  a 
carl  and  a  girl  A  while  after  that  he  opened  first 
where  he  had  put  the  hound  and  the  hare,  and  the 
hound  was  eating  the  hare  ;  be  struck  him  a  stroke  of 


• 


tgC  wmn  maoLàMù  talk    " 

tlio  ed^e  of  hia  palm,  and  caat  liia  hoad  off  Then  ho 
opened  again  where  were  the  carl  and  the  girl,  and  the 
carl  waa  kiaaing  the  girl  He  atruok  him  a  atroke  of 
the  edge  of  hia  palm,  and  he  caat  hia  head  off 

*'  I  would  not  for  much,"  aaid  the  £arl»  ^  thai  a 
hound  and  a  carl  ahould  he  killed  at  my  oouil'' 

"  Give  five  merka  twice  over  for  each  one  of  thenii 
and  I  will  put  the  heada  on  them,"  aaid  the  Champion. 

"  Thou  ahalt  get  that^"  aaid  the  aouthem  EarL 

He  got  the  five  merka  twice  over,  and  he  put  the  head 
on  the  hound  and  the  carl  aa  they  were  heforo;  and 
though  they  ahould  be  alive  till  now,  the  hound  would 
not  have  touched  a  hare,  nor  the  carl  a  girl,  for  fear 
their  heada  ahould  be  taken  off 

On  the  morrow,  after  their  meat  in  the  morning 
he  went  hunting  with  the  EarL  When  they  were 
amongst  the  wood,  they  heard  a  loud  voice  in  a  knoll 
(or  a  bush). 

''Be  this  from  me,"  said  Dust  of  Dust,  "I  must  go 
to  see  the  foot  of  the  carl  MacCeochd.    He  went  out — 

**  And  moved  m  lea-heapi  o'  sea-hcapt, 
And  at  play  balls  o'  playballa ; 
Ai  a  furioui  winter  wind — 
80  iwiftly,  ipraceljr,  cheerily, 
Right  proudly, 

Through  gleni  and  high  topa, 
And  no  itop  made  he 
Until  he  reached 
The  house  of  the  Carl  MacCeochd." 

He  struck  at  the  door.     "Who's  that?"  said  tlie 
carl  MacCeochd. 
V  "  I,"  said  he,  "  am  the  leech's  lad." 

"  Well,"  said  the  carl,  "  many  a  bad  black  leech 
is  coming,  and  they  are  not  doing  a  bit  of  good  to  me." 


TBI  SLIM  8WÀBTHT  OHAMPIOK.  I97 

**  Give  word  to  tho  oarl  thai  unless  he  will  not  let 
me  in,  I  will  be  going,**  said  the  Champioa 

"  Let  in  the  leech's  lad ;  perhaps  he  is  the  one  in 
whom  is  my  help,**  said  the  carl  MacCeochd. 

They  let  him  in. 

"  Kise  up,  carl  MacCeochd,  thou  art  free  bom  thy 
sores,**  said  the  Champioa 

Carl  MacCeochd  arose  up,  and  there  was  not  a. man 
in  Eirinn  swifter  or  stronger  than  he. 

"  lie  down,  oarl  MacCeochd,  thou  art  full  of  soresy^ 
said  the  Champion. 

The  carl  MacCeochd  lay  down,  and  he  was  worse 
than  he  ever  was. 

"Thou  didst  ill,**  said  the  carl  MacCeochd,  ''to 
heal  me  and  spoil  me  again.** 

"  Thou  man  here,**  said  the  Champion, "  I  was  but 
shewing  thee  that  I  could  heal  thea** 

" I  have,**  said  the  <affl  MacCeochd,  ''but  the  one 
daughter  in  the  world,  and  thou  shalt  got  her  and  half 
of  all  I  have,  and  all  my  share  when  I  go  way,  and 
heal  my  leg.** 

"  It  shall  not  be  so^  but  send  word  for  every  leech 
that  thou  hast  had,  that  I  might  get  talking  with 
them,**  said  the  leech's  lad. 

They  sent  word  by  running  lads  through  the  five* 
fifths  of  Eirinn  for  the  leeches  that  were  waiting  on 
the  carl,  and  they  came,  all  thinking  that  they  would 
get  pay,  and  when  they  came  riding  to  the  house  of 
the  carl,  the  Champion  went  out  and  he  said  to  them, 

**  What  made  you  spoil  the  leg  of  the  carl  Mac- 
Ceochd, and  set  himself  thus  f  * 

"  WeU  then,**  said  they,  "  if  we  were  to  raise  the 
worth  of  our  drugs,  without  coming  to  the  worth 
of  our  trouble,  we  would  not  leave  him  the  worth  of 
his  shoe  in  the  world. 


39^ 

Aud  tha  leadi'f  lad, ''I  wflllijjMa 
Uiai  M  the  fall  of  m J  cap  of  gold,  to  la  ail  afc  tiba 
of  jonder  dale,  and  that  tliere  aia 
will  be  at  it  aooner  than  the  earl  MacCaocU.* 

He  aet  the  cap  fall  of  gold  ai  the  «mì  of 
and  the  leeehea  laid  the  wager  Uiat  thai  eosid 

He  went  in  where  the  earl  MaeCeodid 
he  aaid  to  him, 

«"  AJia^  Cari  MacCeodid,  thoa  art  whole  of 
I  hare  laid  a  wager  on  thea" 

Tbe  earl  got  ap  whole  and  heahhj,  «mì  ha 
cfot,  and  he  waa  at  three  tpringi  at  the  eap  of  gold,  aad 
<^     he  left  the  leeehea  far  behind. 

Then  the  leeehea  onl  j  aaked  that  thej  bì^  gel 
their  lireiL  Promiae  of  that  thej  got  no4^  (hot)  tlia 
leech's  hul  got  in  order. 

He  snatched  his  hollj  in  his  fist,  and  he  seised  tiba 

grej  hand  plane  that  was  on  the  after  side  of  hia 

haunch,  and  he  took  under  them,  over  them,  throng 

and  amongst  them  ;  and  left  no  man  to  tell  a  tale,  or 

^    earn  ba<l  tidings,  that  he  did  not  kill* 

When  the  carl  was  healed  he  sent  word  for  the 
nobles  and  fur  the  great  gentles  of  Eirinn  to  the  wed- 
ding of  his  daughter  and  the  Champion,  and  thej  were 
gathering  out  of  each  quarter. 

^  What  company  is  there  t*"  said  the  leeches'  lad. 

**  There  is  the  company  of  thine  own  wedding  and 
they  are  gathering  from  each  half  and  each  side,"  said 
the  carl  MacCeocluL 

**  Be  this  from  me  ! "  said  he ;  "  (yConachar  the 
Shelly  (or  of  Sligo)  has  a  year's  service  against  me,"*  and 
he  put  a  year's  delay  on  the  wedding. 

*  Thii  Memi  lilu  mock  heroics,  an  imitation  of  nich  takt  aa 
^    tbe  Knight  of  the  Red  Shield  and  Marachadh  MacBrìan. 


TBI  BUM  8WARTHT  GHAMFION.       S99 

"  Oat  he  went  «1  Yoorreel  0  Yoorfeel 
And  aa  YeereTvil  0  YeereTitiU, 
Ai  ft  fbriou  winter  wind, 
80  twifUj,  ■praoelj,  dieeril J, 
Right  prondlj, 

Throagh  gleni  ftnd  high  tope. 
And  no  ftop  did  he  make 
Till  he  atraok  in  the  door 
OfCooftohftrorSHgo.*' 

''  Who's  that  t  **  said  O'Gonachar  of  SHga     ^ 

"Vaaidho,  "Goodheid" 

"  Let  in  Ooodherd,"  said  O'Conachar  of  Sligo,  for 
great  is  my  need  of  him  here." 

They  let  him  in. 

''  What  oooldst  thou  do  here  t"  said  O'Gonachar. 

"  I  am  hearing'*  said  he,  to  O'Gonachar  of  Sligo, 
"  that  the  chase  is  upon  thea  If  thou  wilt  keep  out 
the  chase,  I  will  keep  in  the  spoil,"  said  Ooodhetd. 

"What  wages  wilt  thou  taket"  said  O'Gonachar 
of  Sliga 

**  The  wages  I  will  take  is  that  thoa  shouldst  not 
make  half  cups  with  me  till  the  end  of  a  day  and  year," 
said  Goodheid. 

O'Gonachar  made  this  covenant  with  him,  and  the 
herdsman  went  to  herd. 

The  chase  broke  in  on  O'Gonachar  of  Sligo,  and 
they  betook  themselves  to  where  the  herdsman  was,  to 
lift  the  spoil  When  the  hwlsman  saw  that  they  had 
broken  in,  he  took  the  hoUy  in  his  fist^  and  seized  the 
gr^  hand-plane  that  was  on  the  after  side  of  his 
haimch,  and  left  no  man  to  tell  a  tale,  or  earn  bad 
tidings,  that  he  did  not  kill  He  went  into  a  herd's 
bothy,  and  he  (was)  hot,  and  he  saw  O'Gonachar 
Sligheach  just  done  drinlung  a  boyne  of  milk  and 
water. 


Soo  wnr  hiqhland  talu.    ^ 

'' Witnen^  gods  and  men,  that  thou  hkrt  bioken 
thy  promisey"  said  Goodherd. ' 

""That  fill  is  no  better  than  another  fill,"  said 
O'Conachar  Sligheach. 

''  That  sel&ame  fill  thou  didst  promise  to   me,'* 
said  Goodherd. 
f  He  took  anger  at  O'Conachar  Sligheach,  and  he 

went  away,  and  he  reached  the  house  of  the  carl 
MacCeochd.  The  dau^ter  of  the  carl  made  him  a 
drink  of  (preen  apples  and  warm  milk,  and  he  was 
choked. 

And  I  left  them,  and  they  gave  me  butter  on  a 
cinder,  porridge  kail  in  a  creel,  and  paper  shoes  ;  and 
they  sent  me  away  with  a  big  g^  bullet,  on  a  road  of 
,    glass,  till  they  left  me  sitting  here  within. 


AN  CEITHAIRNEACH  GAOL,  RIABHACH. 

Bba  daine  bochd  a  bba  inn  an  Aird  na  h-Uamha  a  chbmhniiidh, 
agui  nigadh  mac  dha,  'i  thag  e  sgoil  a*i  ionoiachadh  dha  gna  an 
rol>h  e  oeitbir  bliadhna  dang  a  dh'  aoia  thoirt  e  r'a  athair,  *  Athair,  'i 
mitbidb  dbombaa  'bbitb  deànadb  air  mo  abon  fbèin;  na'ndtbugadh 
tbu  dbomb  alaUiaagaidb  aa  basgaid;*'  Fhuair  an  duhie  bochd  a* 
b-uile  coUirom  guaan  d'  fbuair  a  Blat-iaagaidh  aa  boagaid  da. 

Nur  a  fbuair  e*n  t  alat-iaagaidb  *f  a  bbaagaid  cbaidb  a  ma'n  coairt 
liocb  Aird  Da  b-Uamba,  *f  gbabb  e  *naaa  Locb  Tlibrabaia,  'a  an  deigh 
dba  Loch  Tbòrabaia  a  chliabairt  thhinig  a  gu  Loch  Phort  an  Eilean, 
'i  an  deigh  dba  Loch  Phort  an  Eilean  iaigach  roimha  ghabh  e  *mach 
Loch  Allalaidb.  Dh*  f  ban  e  'aan  oidhcba  *n  Aird  EileaitraSdh,  'a  a* 
b-oila  breac  a  bb'  aige  dh*  fhàg  a  aig  boireannach  bochd  a  bba  *n  ain 
end. 

An  laV  na  mhàireach  imaointich  e  ga*n  togadh  e'  maeh  agoa  gvn 
d*  thogadh  e  Eirinn  air.  Tbhinig  e  gu  ghrradh  Aird  Inneaadail  agna 
apiòn  e  leia  aè  ubhla  deog,  *f  thkinig  e'n  ain  gn  Haol  na  b-Otha. 
Tliilg  e  ubhal  a  mach  *i  an  fhairge  'i  Ihng  e  ceum  urra.  Thilg  e  *n 
ath  tè  agus  thag  e  ceom  eil'  urra.  Thilg  e,  mur  aeo,  tè  an  deigh  te, 
gui  an  d*  thkinig  e  gna  an  t-aèatbamb  U  deug,  *f  thug  an  i-ieatho 
iè  deug  air  tir  an  Eirinn  e. 


AN  OIATHAIBRIAOH  (UOI^  ElAtlHACH.  $01 

Mvr  a  bhft  e  ftir  tir  chrath  e  dUntMii,  at  niAoliitlch  •  ttaeh  b*  IBB 
an  Uta  toamch  a  dh*  fhanadh  a. 

Ghluaia  e  mar  mhair^rahiU  o  iBbair-ailiQl, 
*d  mar  mhira-bhoill  o  mhira-bhoiU ; 
Mar  ghaoith  ghailbhcacb  gheamlirakUi, 
'  Gil  aiUMacht  aoChaidiii  aaniitaehy 
Skr-mbeamiiaeh, 

TAà  ghlaanntaa  aa  ard-rahnllaoh ; 
'8  eha  d*  riiuMadh  ttad  kia 
Qua  an  d*  UiUiilg  a 
Ob  eairt  Agaa  eathair  O  DwhaBHI. 
Thug  •  laum  aimiidach  aoUldr 
Tbar  bàrr  agBa  baidail 
Odrt  agua  oathair 
O  DomhBBÌlL 

QhaMi  O  DòodiBBlll  BiòraB  MfgagBa  eorrBÌdi  a  laithid  da  ahm- 
tha,  dlMNia,  ao-dhaalbacfa  a  thjghhm  a  itigh  d!  a  diblr^  agBa  doraair 
a  bUth  aiga  Mb  r'a  bhaila. 

"Ghachraid Bil  Mb,** an*  bb  mafhifrnnanh,  "Bach  *ail  Uib  *gabh- 
aU  Mrg  agua  oorrBieh  O  DombBBlUr** 

"Matatha,**  on*  O  DomhBBÌU,  « Ba*Bi  biodh  ioa  agaai  co  lia  a 
UglBBamaeha?** 

*  A  dkBfaM  Bhatb,**  en*  bb  OeathalmaBch,  "ohBb'fhBMdhomhiB 
tÌghÌBB  a  lUgh  BB  dol  a  BMMh  a  lU.** 

"Cbad*  tbeid  tbB 'taach,*' or«*  0  DoBluralII»«g«  Bainiatlni 
dhoBihia  €0  aa  a  thbiBig  Uib.** 

TbblBlg  nd  o  ghrlobhalll  e  gÌVBbhalII, 

O  bhsB  aa  tobair  dlùlÌBB, 

O  gblaauB  Ubìbb  aalakfa ; 

Oidbch' BB  11a  *a  oidbch' am  M  aaaÌBB ; 

Oklbch*  air  cbaraa  Aura  fUri; 

Ab  i*^*«**t  BMNiaidh 

AmbailarighAlbB 

Ragadh  ibI; 

Cabmacb  tBarraeh,  aalach  ati. 

Gad  thbrladh  air  a' bhaila  aao  od. 

*  IH* BTiT  O  DoathBaOl, « a  ebaalhaiTBlih  a  dhèaBBdh  tiiBM7  *to 
laaeh,  *a  bb  *ahlBbhafl  tha  *dh*  aalar  ga'B  daaBadh  Cha  radaigia.'* 

*  Bba  ml  aalr,**  an'  ataa, "  agaa  ahaÌBBlBB  cndt** 
«  Mata,**  Bi^  0  DoabBBfll,  • 'b  BBS  agam  Mb  a  tha  BB 


301  mK  HIGHLAXD  TAUB. 

•  *■  f haàrr  ana  an  obig  chòÌfMmh  lui  h-ElrMBB,  nA  DwirfciH 
cfaeiuUii  iiA  MUh ;  mar  a  tha  Rnabidli  O  CrkUMagaa,  Tonuld  O 
QiaUogan,  agut  Taog  0  dnUbag.** 

"aniiuMam  a'  aafaia  eod,"  on' an  Caathainiaack  HiòWek  aa 
dàiaafaraan. 

Shafamaadh  and  pairt,  agiia  nirt,  agiia  argain, 
Nitbaanna  taamnad,  teudan  tairtail ; 
Curaidbaan,  laolch,  aa  aoig  air  an  caaaa; 
Aoig,  aa  àiim,  aa  galair,  aa  flabhraJt ; 
Chttiraadh  and  'nan  i&on  aioiam  auaia 
▲n  aaoghal  mòr  gu  Mir, 
La  binnead  nam  port  ibVogaidh 
A  tbelnnaadb  na  cUnaireaa. 

Cba  do  cbòrd  an  oeòl  rb  a*  Cbeatbairnaacb.  Bug  a  air  aa  ^ra- 
aicbaan,  *i  pbrann  a  fo  a  diatan  end,  *a  cboir  a  air  tainidb  and,  % 
rinn  a  gbaradb,  '•  a  obmaidb-gbaradb  rlu. 

Obabb  O  Dombnalll  mbran  brdain  gnn  d*  tbbiiaig  dniiia  'al|gb 
do  "n  cbuirt  aige  'dhèanadb  a  leitbid  aao  air  na  dbiaaiebaan. 

*<  Cba  chreid  mi  fbtfin  a  dhnina  mbatb  nacb  'ail  tba  'gabhafl  eoir- 
nicb,"  art'  an  Ceathaimaacb. 

**  Hata  tba,  nam  biodb  fbios'am  co  ria  a  Uginn  a  nuicb  a." 

"Air  'ur  n-aii  a  dbuine  mhatb!  Cba  b'  fbasa  dbombaa  do 
cblknaicbean  a  bbrisdeadb  na'n  ilbnacbadb  a  rìil"  an*  an  Ceatb- 
aimeach. 

**  Bbeir  mi  ni  tam  bitb  laacbad  airaon  an  ilbnacbadb  a  i^**  jua' 
O  DomlmuilL 

**  Air  chòig  robairg  da  uair  ni  miia  do  dilbrtaicbaan  dio  matb  'aa 
bha  eud  roiinhid,"  lurs*  an  Ceatbairneadi. 

**  Qlidbh  tbu  lin,"  art'  0  Dombuuill. 

Tbug  0  Dombnaill  na  mairg  da  aguf  rug  a  air  Ikn  a  dba 
bhoiaa  do  'n  luaiUi,  'i  rinn  a  clbrtacb  do  Uuairidb  O  Cridbaagan,  'a 
U  do  Tbormaid  0  Qiollagan,  'i  U  do  Tbaog  0  Cbnftbag  agna  dbia- 
acb  mbòr,  cboirealacb  da  (he. 

**  Clainneam  do  cbeòl,"  art'  O  DombnuiU. 

**  CluinDÌdb  tu  tin  a  dbnine  mliatb,"  urt*  an  Ceatbaimeacb. 

ThòÌBÌcb  an  Ceatbaimeacb  air  teinn,  aa,  ocbl  b*  a  'm  balacb  air 
cbbi  na  cl^rtaicb  el. 

Sbeinneadb  e  puirt,  agua  uirt,  agua  oigain, 
Nitbeanna  tearmad ;  teudan  tairteil ; 
Curaidbean,  laoicb,  at  aoig  air  an  catan ; 
Aoig,  at  kinn,  at  galair,  at  fiabbrait. 


AN  OlAlHAIBinUOH  OAOI^  WATtHiCH.  303 

S  (nil  eulfte  *iiàB  noB  rfonutt  tiMiBf 
An  tnoglial  mòr  gn  Uir, 
L«  MnnMd  a*  phnirt  ihlofakDi, 
A  ihflÌBiMndli  as  OanUininiBMli* 

*  '8  Unn  Urns'  a  CbaaUiairnicb,**  an*  O  DomlmnilL 

Mnr  a  chnala  na  clknairaan  an  OalbaiiiMach  a*  idnn  ihbg  and 
aeombar  *aU*  orra,  *i  gad  a  laanadhe  fhathaad  chad*  thigtadh  and  an 
IkUiair. 

Dh'  fhalbli  O  DooihanUl  *§  choir  e  ohmhnainn  blàdh  than  a 
Gaathairnich. 

"Abraibh  ria  an  dnina  nhath  naeh  U  *n  nihhir  lin  aiga  r*a 
nUihlghMdh  ormaa  nnr  a  dh*  fholbhaa  mi  air  a*  mhaadhoa  lath*  am 
mdiraaeli,**  nra*  an  Caathaimaadk 

Ohabh  O  DornhnnOl  mònm  hrdain  a  laithid  da  dhdna  *thighinn 
a  ataigh  d*a  ehhirt.  *a  naeh  giahhadh  a  biadh  naidh.  Chvir  a  nka 
lAi*  air  laltan  *a  madal  doonain.  ••Ch*  *bhaa  aao  a' doi7**  nra*  an 
GaatliainMadL  "At*  lonnanidh-aa,  *Cbaatliaimaaeh,**  nra*  andmn. 
"Abraibb-aa  rIa  an  dnina  mhath  naeh  bi  *n  nibhir  fin  alga  ria 
nUihighaadb  ormm  nor  a  dh*  fbolbbaa  ml  air  a*  mhaadhan  lath'  ail 
la*r  na  mhairaaeh,**  nra*  an  Caathairfaaaeh.  Ohabh  O  Domldinill 
mbran  Mrg  agna  eormldi,  a  laithid  da  dhnlna  thighinn  a  ataigh  d*a 
ahhirt»  *§  naeh  gabhadh,  a  aona-dinid,  biadh  na  aodaeh  naldh.  Chnlr 
a  *iiW)a  cMg  dad  galloglach  a  dh*  fhafaa  *Ghaathaimieh,air  all 'a  naeh 
biodh  maaladh  air  a  thoirt  do  dh*  0  DonhnnlU  la  a  *dhol  a  maeh, 
rathad  aam  bith,  ach  air  an  dorna.* 

"  Ch*  *bhail  ribhaa  *dol  ?**  an*  an  Otathalmaaeh. 

"At*  fhaira-aa  'Chaafhaimich,  air  alt  I1  naeh  fhalbh  thn,  *thDÌrt 
masladh  do  dh*  O  DooUmnill,  gnn  do  Ugail  a  maoh  ach  mu  la  cMr 
dnit,**  nra*  eodaan. 

*  Laidhlbh  rfoa  ann  an  aln,**  an*  an  Oaathaimaaeh,  "  %  nnr  a 
bhioa  mlaa  *g  imcachd  bhair  mi  flea  dnibh.** 

Ghabh  and  a  ehomhalrl^  *a  laidh  end  àtoa  Ihmh  ria,  'a  nnr  a 
bhritd  am  fhirachaidh  an  Gaathairnich  *na  Adaadh. 

«ChiU  'bhafl  mo  Inehd  lUra-aa,  tha  mi  *g  lamachd,**  aia*  na 
Otathaimrarh 

"Na'a  earaehadh  thn,*^  nra*  an  gaH-oglach  Biòr,  "dhèandfaui 
vnpan  gmu,  goirt  dhiot  kia  a*  bhbrd-nrchair  ao  a*m'  Ihhnh.** 

Laom  an  Caalhalmaaeh  air  barraibh  a  phvthag  'a  ehaidh  a  thar 
barr  agna  baldaO  chirt  agna  cathair  O  DomhnnUL  Thilg  an  gaDog- 
laeh  am  bòrd^rdudr  a  bha  "na  hOmh,  *n  mharbh  a  aaithir 
ichiad  da  dh*  fhkr-mhnintlr  0  Darnhnaill. 


S04  Wm  HIQBLAHD  TAUB.      •      \ 

Go  'obofonieh  aa  CUfhilnmdi  adi  gtlto-kwhihPiO'PoMÌ— H 
'•  thvlit  e  rK  •<  8m  dholt  Inigh  bhMg*  bUonch»  gUM^  "b  tlnMc  a 
itdcb,  '■  nib  ri  MliMiim  fcadh— eh  a  ■harbkadlb  U  *•  tfc^fr  ^^  — <i 
'■  eoiiiaa  doit  ni^  fichtaà  mart  Mgh, '•  aalnÌTO  M  da  dh4gk»  nr 
a  dhaakwhii  tii  riuaua,  co  *cid  tha  taaebd.** 

Nor  a  rliiB  aa  ftHa-laantalan  aao  cha  *b  Ihaa  a  aaaA  a'  iMehd ; 
aah  chiunale  e  *n  CmthtUimth  UÌ  make  daog  a&  taabh  thall  da 


GUnab  a  mar  mhoir-adilll  o  iBbair-ayd]], 

*A  wkmr  mhlfa-bludll  O  ■»lilr»  lAlini  1 

Mar  ghaoitli  ffbaHbhaaeh  gtwamhriMh, 
f        Go  rithfach,  aoChadiy  laBiiladi 


THd  ghleanntan  aa  ard-mboUacb  s 
'8  cha  d*  rfauMadh  atad  tela, 
Out  aa  d*  rynif  a 
llao  fluafhifa,  ao  Ularl  daai* 

BhuaO  a  aaaa  aa  domad.  Tlraiit  XaeSaalhaia  aa  t-Iari  Daaa  riib 
«Cotlod'ÌHUidoniMir 

*  Tha  miaa,  Dhnulaa  0  Dbradaa**  art' aa  OaaUudraaaeb. 

Thuirt  MacSeathin,  an  t-Url  Deai,  <*  Uglbh  aitaigh  Dhradaa 
O  Dhradan ;  cha  'n  fhaod  beach  a>hith  a*m'  dhornid-aa  'boaladh  goa 
fkouion  a  •Uigh«*' 

LigaudaiUigh  e  *«  Dtf  'dhèanadh  thua*  Dhnradalo  O  Dhradaar 
an*  an  t-Iarl  Deai. 

<*  Dha  ml  uair  'i  dhèanainn  daaa,"  art'  aiaa. 

«  HaU  *■  ann  agam  fhtfin  a  tha  'n  aona  chlaaaaieha  %  fhihrr  aaa 
an  eòlg  chblgaamh  na  b-Elrtann,  na  *n  Drochaki  cbaadaa  nam  MUh. 
mar  a  tha  Taog  pratach  Mae  a  ChealUich.** 

.  Fhiiair  end  a  nVos  an  deatakbe.    "  D6/*  una  'a  t-Iarl  Deaa^  "aa 
deat  a  dhèanadh  thuia,  Dhoradain  O  Dbradan. 

Mata  bha  mi  uair  '■  bbogainn  a*  cblnaa  bhbr  mo  Mthdidan,'* 


Db'  (holbb  an  Ceathaimeach  *i  thngar  a*  eblnaa  bhbr  a  laith- 
cheinn. 

QrM  Taog  pratach  a*  Cbeallaicb,  •*  Dhèanafam  fh^  ■in,'' 

Dh*  fholbb  e  '■  tbog  e  *niiaa  a  cbloai.  '■  a  suaa  cha  d*  tbngadh  a 
i  I  ach  choir  an  Ceathaimeach  a  auaa  a  cblnaa  fh^  mar  a  bha  I 
rolmbid! 

Ohabh  an  t-IarU  mbran  feirg  agaa  oorraich  a'  dilaaa  a  bhith  d'a 
chleABAlcbe. 


AN  OlATHAIBinUCH  OAOI^  RIABHAOH.  305 

"  Air  dMg  mhairg  dm  vair/  an*  aa  Cèathainnaeh, «  dnlriiiii-aa 
*chltiat  mar  a  bha  i  roimhkL** 

Fhaair  •  na  ebig  mhairg  da  nair,  *■  chair  •  'dilvaa  air*  a  chlaa^ 
aiehe  mar  a  bha  I  roimhid. 

"Thaml  'fiOdiui,*' an* aa  t-!arla»  '^garlaalfh^etoaiacbd  aa 
h-oidbcha  'nochd.** 

Dh*  fliolbh  T«og  pratach,  *■  gad  a  dh'  fhaaadh  tad  aa  lia  ftid  aa 
b-Mdhcba,  cha  d*  Ibigvadh  •  a  *n  coir. 

Dh*  fbolbb  aa  Ceathairneach  aa  lia,  *a  chair  •  dreamairt  mbr 
faaa  rlt  a*  ghaalaieh ;  *a  obair  •  aaa  aa'aoa  bit*  dh«th  ch  agaa  gaarr- 
aidh ;  '1  chair  •  aaa  aa  bit*  eile  dheth  bodach  agat  caile.  Trdt  aa  a 
dli^igh  no  dh*  fhotgail  e,  'a  toiieach,  far  aa  do  chair  e  *a  cb  agat  aa 
gearradh ;  *i  bha  'a  eb  *g  Itbcadb  a'  ghearraidh.  Bbaail  e  bailie  de 
dh*  oir  a  bboit*  oir  a*  ebb,  %  thilg  e  *a  oeaaa  dfib.  Dh*  fboagaH  •* 
rithiad  Ikr  aa  robh  am  bodadi  *•  a*chaila;  *sbha*tai  bodadi  a*  pbg. 
adh  aa  caile.  Bbaail  •  bailie  do  dh'  oir  a  bhoia'air'a  UiUge*a 
eeaaa  deth. 

*  Cha  ba  gheamha  leam,**  art'  aa  t-Iarl,  **  air  aibraa,  eb  agae 
bodach  a  bhitl»  air  am  aiarbhadh  aaa  a*  m'  cbblrt.* 

*  Thoir  cbig  mhairg  da  aair  airaea  gaeh  aoa  dia  'a  eairidh  miaa 
aa  eiaa  orra  'ite,"  an*  aa  Ccatbalraeaeh. 

«  Gheibb  tha  ain  *  an*  aa  t-Iari  Deaa. 

Fbaair  a  aa  cbig  mhairg  da  aair,  '•  chair  •  *a  eeaaa  air  a*  chb  'a 

air  a*  bbodach  aiar  a  bha  ead  rolmhld  t  *a  gad  a  bhiodh  tad  beb  gaa 
aa  aeo,  cha  d*  thagadh  aa  cb  Ibmh  ab  gaarraidb,  aa  'm  bodaeh  air 

caile,  air  eagal  gaa  tog-to  aa  daa  dia. 

Aa  la  *r  aa  mbbireach,  aa  d^igh  am  bidh,  aaaa  a*  mhakUaa, 

chaidh  e  *8healgaireachd  Ma  aa  larla.    Mara  bha  ead  fcadh  MeoOle 

chaal  ead  eolreal  aaa  aa  torn. 

*  Bhaam  aeo,"  araa  Dbradaa  O  Dbradaa  I  Ibamaidh  lai  del  a  dh* 
aadiare  caa  a*  Bhodaich  *Ie  Ceoebd. 

Ohabh  e  *macli, 

'8  gblaaio  e  aiar  mbair-mbill  o  mhar-aihUl, 

'8  mar  mhiro-bbaill  o  mhire-bballl ; 

Mar  ghaoith  ghailbbeach  gbeamhrahlh. 

Go  aitheaeh,  aochach,  aaaatach, 

Sbr-mbeamaaeb, 

TrM  ghleanataa  aa  ard-mhoUach ; 

Agaa  atad  cha  d*  riaaeadh  leia, 

Gaa  aa  d*  rbiaig  e^ 

Taigh  a' Bhodakh  *le  Oeodid. 

X 


306  WB8T  mOHULND  TALIS. 

BhtuUleaonitBdoniML  *'CoikKÌ?"nriramBodachll«cC6òchd. 

<*  Mil?"  urt*  Man,  «Giir  an  Leiffh.** 

"•  Mata,"  un*  am  bodach,  *•  '■  iomadh  Mgh  dagh,  dona  HlgblnB, 
*f  eha  *n  *eil  aud  a'  d^anadh  mir  f«am  domhaa.** 

•*  Thngalbh  flot  do  *n  bhodach,  mar  an  lig  •  *tUlgli  ml,  ga*m  M 
ni  *g  imtaohd/*  art'  an  Oaathalmeach. 

**  Uglbh  a  tUigfa  GiU*  an  Ltfigh,  oba  Inghaida  gor  h-ann  ana  a- 
tha  mo  chobbair,"  art'  am  Bodach  Mac  Ceocbd. 

Lig  end  a  itoigb  a. 

**  Eiricb  aoaa  a  Bbodaicb  le  Caoofad,  tha  tha  aaor  o  ehranchdaB,** 
un'  an  CeathairDeach. 

Dh*  ^ridh  am  Bodach  Mao  Ceochd  raa%  '■  eha  robh  duin*  an 
Eirinn  a  ba  luaitke  '■  a  bu  Ihidireacha  na  e  I 

**  Laidh  ùot  a  Bhodaich  'lo  Coochd  tha  tha  Ihn  ehreochdan,** 
art*  an  Ceathaimeach.  Laidh  am  Bodach  Ifac  Ceochd  ùot,  *■  bha  a 
na  bu  mhioaa  na  bha  a  riabh  1 

*"S  olc  a  rinu  tha/*  ura*  am  Bodach  Mac  Oaochd,  *<molaighaaa 
agua  mo  mhUleadh  a  lU." 

''Adhuine  too,**  urMi  Giir  an  Ltfigh;  «cha  robhmiacha*Ugail 
fhaicinn  duit  gam  b*arrainn  mi  do  laigbaaa !  ** 

**  Cba  *n  *eil  agam,**  ura*  am  Bodach  Mao  Gaodid,  **  ach  an  aon 
nighean  i)a  an  t-aaoghal,  'a  gcobh  thu  i,  'a  leith  'a  na  th*agam,  'a  mo 
chuid  air  Ud  nur  a  ahiubhlaa  ml,  agua  laighia  mo  chaa." 

**  Cha'n  a  ain  mar  a  bhitheaa,  ach  cuir  fioa  air  a*  h-aila  l^h  a 
bh'Ngad,  'a  gum  &\ghlnn-aa  'bhith  bruldhinn  riutha,"  araa  Gill'  an 
Ldigh! 

Chulr  end  floa  le  gillaan-ralth,  feadh  chbig  chàigeamh  na  h- 
Eireann,  airaon  nan  lighichean  a  bha  'faithaamh  air  a*  bbodach ;  *9 
tliiiinig  eud  air  fad,  a  aaoiltinn  gu'faighaadh  and  pàigheadh.  Agua 
nur  a  thàioig  eud,  a*  roarcachd  gu  taigh  a'  Bhodaich,  chaidh  an 
CeatlicUroeach  a  mach  *a  thuirt  a  riu. 

"  De  'thug  dhuibhae  caa  a*  Bhodaich  1c  Ceochd  a  mhilleadh,  'a  e 
fh^n  a  chur  fo  ainbbeach  mar  aeo?  " 

**  Mata,"  ura'  eudaan,  **  na*n  togamaide  loach  ar  cungan,  gon 
tighinn  air  luach  ar  aaoithreach,  eha  'n  fbàgamaid  luachabhròg  alge 
ria  an  t-aaoghal.'* 

Uraa  Gill'  an  Leigh !  "  Cuiridh  mi  geall  ruibb ;  agua  *a  e  ain 
Ihn  mo  churraichd  do  db'  or  a  chur  aig  ceann  na  dalach  ud  ahoaa, 
'i  nach  'eil  gin  an  Eirinn  a  bhioa  aige  na  *a  luaitha  na'm  Bodadi 
Mac  Ceochd!" 

Chuir  e*n  cnrrachd  Ian  òir  aig  ceann  na  dalach;  'a  chuir  na 
leighean  geall  ris  nach  b'urrainn  aiod  a  bhith. 


AN  OSATHAIIUrKAOH  CAOI^  BIABHAOH.  307 

Chaidh  •  *iUigh  fkr  M  loUi  *ai  Bodaefa  Mm  Ceoebd,  *•  thuirt  •  rit. 

*'Elrieh  a  Bhodaich  *!e  CMehd,  tha  Urn  alkn  O  cbrraebdan  t 
Chair  ml  geall  at  do  Mth.**  Dh'  tiridh  am  Bodaeh  Mae  Caocfad  gn 
alkn,  fallao,  a*  chaidh  •  mach,  'a  Mm  •  thri  Oaomanaan  aig  a*  ebnrr- 
achd  òir,  *a  dh*  fhhg  •  fad*  air  ddnadh  aa  Mghean. 

Cha  d'  iarr  na  leighean  aa  aeo  ach  aa  *m  faigheadh  tod  am  heatha 
laol  Qealladh  air  a*  alod  eha  d*  fhoair  tod !  Chaidh  gOl*  aa  Mgh 
air  dòigh  I 

Sphrr  •  *chiiili<ma  *Ba  dhorn,  aa  ghlae  a'a  Ihmh-loelidair  llath  ^ 
hb'  air  taohb  piar  a  tbòioe,  *a  thng  e  fbeha  *§  tharta,  *a  Md  aa 
rompa ;  *§  dm  d*  fbàg  e  laar  iaaaaadh  igaofl  aa  ohoaaadh  taaraadall 
aach  do  mlmrbh  • ! 

Nor  a  bha  *m  bodaeh  leigfaiata  chair  •  floa  ab  amithlbh  *a  air  mòr- 
aaialtaa  aa  h-Kiraaaa  thoa  baaala  a  alghiaa  'a  a'  ChaaUmiraich,  *g 
bha  and  n*  cruiaoeaelmdh  aa  gaeh  cahra. 

•Da'ehald6acbdaUm*aaiod7**  arM  Oill*aa  Laighl  "Tha'a 
aiod  coidaaehd  aa  bhiaaa*  agad  flieia,  *a  aad  a  endaaaaclmdh  aa 
gach  leith  agaa  aa  gach  taobh,**  ara*  am  Bodaeh  llae  Caoehd. 
"Ubaam  aao,**  an' aaaa,  "UmCudadh  bliadha*  aig  OCooachar  aa 
Sllgaachorm;**  *b  chair  a  dhU  Miadhaa 'a  a' phòaadh. 

Qhabh  a  'mach  aur  mhair-mhOl  o  aUiair-mhÌII, 

*B  nmr  mbire-bboUl  o  aihire-bhaiU ; 

Mar  gimolth  f  hailbhaaeh  glmamhraldh; 

Ga  aithcaeh,  aothaeh,  iaaatach, 

Shr-mhaamaaeli, 

Tf)d  ghlaaaataa  aa  ard-mhalkeh ; 

'S  cha  d'  riaaaadh  aUd  Ma, 

Ooa  aa  do  bhoall  a  aaa  aa  dataad 

OCoaaeharSHgaach. 

" Co  aiod? "  era*  O  Coaaehar  Sligaaeh. 

«« Mia*,**  art' aaaa,  •«  Boachailla  Math.**  «  Uglbh  a  ataigh  Baach- 
ailla  Math,"  ara'  O  Coaaehar  Sligaaeh  ;**  ehiooa  thafiam  aibragaaM' 
air  anaa  aa  am  aao.** 

Ug  aad  a  ataigh  a. 

"  Dd  'dhaaaadh  thoM  *Bhaaehain  ?**  on*  O  Coaaehar  SligmMh. 

«Tha  ml  'eloiaotlaa,"  on*  a  ri  O  Coaaehar  Sligaaeh,  «ga  'bhaO 
aatoirort**  «  Tha,"  an' O  Coaaehar  Sligaaeh.  "MachmaaataM 
ameh  aa  tMr ;  caaialdh  mlaa  ataigh  a*  ehraaeh  ?**  araa  BaaehaHla 
MathI    •« Dd  *a  toaraadal  a  ghabbaa  ta ?"  an*  O Coaaehar  SUgaoeh. 

••Sa*ataaratdala  ghabhaa  ml,  aaeh  dèoa  tha 
ga  cMim  lath*  aa  bUadhaa,"  arm  Baaehallla  Math  I 


S08  WWn  HIGHLAND  TILIB. 

Blnn  O  Oooacluur  SligMch  aa  ehnhnanto  mo  rii.    Chaidb 
baaeluUlte  *bhiM<*liAUIotclKL 

Bhriad  an  tòlr  a  tUigh  air  O  Gooaobar  SUgtacb*  ^  Ùnog  and  om 
Ikr  an  robh  *m  biiachaiir  a  UmgaU  na  craidia.  Nor  a  chnnnak  an 
buacbailla  gun  do  bbriid  and  a  ataigh,  gbabh  a  'chnilioim  *nA  dbora, 
aa  gfalao  a  *n  lamh-k>chdair  liath  a  bh'  air  taobh  piar  a  thoina;  *a 
eba  d*  fhag  a  faar  innaaadh  tgeoU  na  *choniadh  tnaiaadail  an  aln 
nach  do  mharbh  a  1  Chaidh  e  itaigh  do  bhothag  àirich,  ag«a  a  taitii» 
'i  channaio  a  O  Conacbar  SUgaacb  an  dèigh  miodar  bblrn  agua 
bainna  'chnochaDachadb  d*a  61 

*  Fbiannii  air  dia  'a  air  daoina  gn  *n  do  bbriad  tbn  do  gbaaHadh  I* 
fiaacbailla  Math  I 

•<Cha*n  fhabrr  an  Ibn  *iid  na  Itn  aUa^**  an*  O  Conacbar  SUg- 

**  An  Ikn  'ud  fh^n  ghaall  Urn  dhombaa,"  ana  Buacbailla  Matli  I 
Gliabb  a  oormich  ri  O  Conaehar  Sligeacb,  %  dh*  fholbh  e  'a 
rbinig  a  taigb  a*  Bhodaich  'Ic  Caocbd.     Rinn  nigbaan  a'  bbodaicb 
daooh  dha  da  oh'  ubhian  rtfim  *f  da  bhainna  blbtb,  *a  tbacbdadh  a. 

'8  dbaalaich  mlaa  rin ;  *a  thng  end  dhomb  im  air  aibhlaig,  *a  brocbi- 
aa-cbil  an  crtfilaig,  'a  brbga  pàipair,  'i  cbnir  and  air  folbh  mi  la  pell- 
air  gonna-mhoir  'air  rathad-mòr  gloina  goa  an  d*  fhbg  and  aVn* 
ahuidha  'itaigh  an  lao  mi. 


SECOND  VERSION. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  CEABHARNACH. 

From  John  Campbell,  Strath  Gearloch,  Boaa-ahire. 

f\N  the  day  when  G'Donull  came  out  to  hold  right 
^^  and  justice,  he  saw  a  young  chap  coming.  His 
two  shoulders  wore  through  his  old  Suainaicub  (sleep- 
ing coat  I)  his  two  oars  through  his  old  aide  hat^ 
his  two  squat  kick-er-ing  tatter-y-slioes  full  of  cold 
roadway-ish  water,  three  feet  of  his  sword  sideways  on 
the  side  of  bis  haunch,  after  the  scabbard  had  ended. 
He  blest  with  easy  true-wise  maiden's  words. 


THB  HIBTOBT  OP  THB  GBABHàRHàOH.  3O9 

0*Donall  blest  him  in  the  like  of  hifl  own  words. 

0*Domill  asked  him  what  was  his  art  t 

''  I  could  do  harping,'*  said  the  Ceabhamach. 

"  There  are  twelve  men  with  me,*'  said  O'Donnll, 
''  and  we  will  go  to  look  on  them." 

"  I  am  willing  to  do  that,"  said  the  Ceabhamach. 

When  they  went  in  O'Donnll  asked  them  to  begin. 
"  Hast  thou  ever  heard  music,  oh  Ceabhamach,  finer 
than  that  t" 

**  I  came  past  b  j  the  Isle  of  Cold,  and  I  did  not 
hear  a  screech  in  it,  that  was  more  hideous  than  that** 

"  Wouldst  thou  play  a  harp  thyself^  Ceabhamach  t" 
said  O'DonulL 

^  Here  is  her  player,  and  who  should  not  play  1" 

''  Give  him  a  harp,"  said  O'DonulL 

"  Well  canst  thou  pUy  a  harp,"  said  O'DonulL 

"  It  is  not  as  thou  pleasest  but  as  I  please  myself^ 
since  I  am  at  work." 

The  music  of  the  Ceabhamach  put  every  harper 
O'Donull  had  asleep. 

"Iwill  be  taking  fare  thee  well,"  said  theCeabhar- 
nach  to  O'DonulL 

''  Thou  wilt  not  do  that  to  me,"  said  O'Donull, 
*'  thou  must  awaken  my  men." 

''  I  am  going  to  take  a  turn  through  Eirinn,"  said 
the  Ceabhamach,  ''  if  I  come  the  way  they  will  see, 
and  if  I  come  not  they  will  be  thus  with  thea" 

He  left  him,  and  he  met  with  one  herding.  **  Thy 
master^s  harpers  are  asleep,  and  they  will  not  wake  till 
they  are  awakened  Go  thou  and  awaken  them,  and 
thou  wilt  get  what  will  make  a  rich  man  of  thee  t" 

**  How  shall  I  do  thatt"  said  the  herd 

**  Take  a  tuft  of  that  grass  and  dip  it  in  water,  and 
shake  it  on  them,  and  thou  wilt  awaken  them." 

He  left  the  man  and  he  reached  Skatbaji  mob  mao 


JIO 


«•  lMB%  gnat  SMthm  dM  n  flf  th>  Iiri» 
■nifls  <Mi  Uitt  wateni  adft  of  ^  ■■■■■■■y 

wvn  thmwgh  hù  oU  etmt,  hm  two  an 
iMty  his  fhoflt  ftiU  of  eoid  RMdw^^-aa 
&i  him  ffroid  tidswafs  on  Ùm  mdm  oi  his 
tiM  iembbad  WM  Mdaii 

Ha  adud  hia  what  wm  hia  tndaf   Em 
hm  eoold  do  jnggiiii^ 

**1  hacfi  jnggien  mjaaH^  wm  will  gs  Ib  bok  ok 

^  I  am  wiHiBg  anoQi^''  aaid  tba  Caabhaniaek 

'^Shew  thy  jng^infe'*  aaid  Jbm  great  SwHian,  '^till 
weaaait" 

Ha  pat  three  atntwi  oa  Hm  hmtk  of  hk  iii  awi  ha 
blow  tham  off  it. 

«« If  I  alMmld  get  hslf  ife  nutka,*  andoMof  the 
king^a  lada,  **  I  woald  make  better  jugj^ing  thaa  that.* 
**  I  will  gÌTe  thee  that,"  aaid  the  CeabhanadL 

He  put  three  atrawa  on  the  back  of  hia  fiat  and  the 
fiat  went  along  with  the  atrawai 

^  Then  art  aore,  and  thoa  wilt  be  aora,*  aaid  hia 
flMater ;  **  mj  bleaaing  on  the  hand  that  gaTe  it  to  theeL* 

*' I  will  do  other  jng^  for  thee,**  aaid  the  Ceabh- 
amach. 

He  eang^t  a  hold  of  hia  own  ear,  ami  be  gsre  a 
pall  at  it 

**  If  I  coold  get  half  fire  marka,"  aaid  another  cithm 
king'a  lada,  **  I  would  make  a  better  jng^e  than  thai" 

''  I  wUl  gire  thee  that,'*  aaid  the  Ceabhamacb. 

He  gave  a  poll  at  the  ear  and  the  head  came  awaj 
with  the  ear. 

''  I  am  going  awaj,"  said  the  Ceabhamacb. 

"  Tliou  wilt  not  leave  my  set  of  men  aa" 

**  I  am   for  taking  a  turn  through  Eirinn.     If  I 


THB  HI8T0RT  OF  THB  OIABHARNAOH.  3 1 1 

come  the  way  I  will  see  them,  and  if  I  come  not  ihey 
will  be  80  along  with  thee.** 

He  went  away,  and  he  met  with  a  man  threshing 
in  a  bam.  He  asked  him  if  his  work  could  keep  him 
up. 

'*  It  was  no  more  than  it  could  da** 

**  I,"  said  the  Ceabhamach,  "  will  make  thee  a  free 
man  for  thy  life.  There  are  two  of  thy  master^s  lads, 
one  with  his  fist  off,  and  one  with  his  head  oft  Go 
there  and  put  them  on  again,  and  thy  master  will  make 
thee  a  free  man  for  iifa" 

''  With  what  shaU  I  bring  them  aliye  f  ** 

**  Take  a  tuft  of  grass,  hold  it  in  water,  shake  it  on 
them,  and  thou  wilt  heal  them.** 

Ue  went  away  and  he  came  to  Fbab  chuiobamh 
HUGH  A,*  a  nasty  man  that  could  not  bear  a  man  to  go 
the  way  of  his  house,  to  look  at  him  when  he  was 
taking  his  food.  There  were  twelye  men  with  axes  at 
the  outer  gate,  and  twelye  men  of  swords  on  the  inner 
gate  ;  a  porter  at  the  great  door. 

They  saw  a  young  chap  coming,  his  two  shoulders 
through  his  old  coat>  his  two  ears  through  his  old  hat, 
his  two  squat  kick-ering  tatter-y  shoes  lull  of  cold 
roadway-ish  water. 

He  asked  their  license  in  to  see  Fear  Chuigeamh 
Mugha. 

One  of  them  raised  his  axe  to  driye  his  head  ofi^ 
but  so  it  was  that  he  struck  it  on  his  own  comrade. 

They  arose  on  each  other  till  they  killed  each  other ; 
and  he  came  to  the  men  of  the  sword,  one  raised  his 
sword  to  strike  off  his  head,  but  he  cut  the  head  off  his 
comrade  with  it,  and  they  all  fell  to  slaying  each  other. 

He  reached  the  porter ;  he  caught  him  by  the 
small  of  the  legs,  and  he  struck  his  head  on  the  door. 

*  Dm  naa  of  Moaster,  Caift  oiaBbe. 


311  WHV  moaLAMD 


lie  nmthbà  the  gmi  bui  m  ha  mI  ai  Ub 
he  stood  at  the  end  of  the  boaid. 

''  Oh  era  man,"  aaid  the  ìàn^  '^gnai  waa  tìij 
loaa  heloie  th^wi  camoai  hen^"*  aa  he  loaa  to  catch  hold 
of  hia  awofd  to  strike  hia  head  off.  Hie  hand  ataek  to 
the  twordy  and  hia  aeai  atack  to  the  chaii^  and  he  eouid 
not  riae  ;  no  more  could  hia  wife  leare  her  own  plaocL 
When  he  had  done  all  he  wiahed  he  went  awaj,  and 
he  met  a  poor  man  that  waa  traTelling  the  world. 

"*  If  thoa  wilt  take  my  adTÌce,*  aaid  the  Ceahhai^ 
nach,  **  I  will  make  a  lock  j  man  of  thee  aa  long  aa 
thou  art  alÌY&'* 

^  How  wilt  thoa  do  that  t"  aaid  the  man. 

**  The  king  and  the  queen  are  &8t  in  their  chaira  ; 
go  thoa  and  looae  them,  and  the  king  will  make  a  great 
man  of  thea" 

''How  ahaU  I  looee  themt" 

**  Shake  water  on  them  and  thej  will  ariae." 

He  went  oat  of  that,  and  he  reached  Kob  ICao- 
Shkoio  Muic  Laoain  with  a  pain  in  hia  foot  for  aeven 
yeare. 

He  struck  palm  to  bar.  The  porter  asked  "  Who 
was  there  Y** 

He  said  there  was  a  leech. 

'*  Many  a  leech  lias  come,"  said  the  porter.  **  There 
is  not  a  spike  on  the  town  without  a  leech's  head  but 
oue,  and  may  be  it  is  for  thy  head  that  one  is." 

"It  might  not  be,"  said  the  CeabhamacL  ''Let 
me  in." 

'*  What  is  putting  upon  thee,  Kob  f  *'  said  the 
Ceabhamach. 

*'  My  foot  is  taking  to  me  these  seven  years.  She 
has  beat  the  leech  and  leeches." 

'*  Arise  and  stretch  out  thy  foot  with  the  stitch," 
said  the   Ceabhamach  ;"  and   let's  try  if  thou  canst 


THB  HI8T0BT  OF  TBI  OIABHARNAGH.  3 1] 

catch  the  twelye  leeches,  or  if  the  iwelye  leeches  will 
catch  ihee.** 

He  arose,  no  man  could  catch  him  ;  and  he  him- 
self could  catch  eyery. other  one. 

**  I  haye  but  one  begotten,  a  champion  of  a  girl, 
and  I  will  giye  her  to  thee  and  half  mj  realm." 

^  Be  she  good  or  bad,*'  said  the  Ceabhamach,  ^  let 
her  be  mine  or  thine." 

An  order  was  made  for  a  wedding  for  the  Ceabh- 
amach ',  but  when  ihej  had  got  the  wedding  in  order, 
he  was  swifter  out  of  the  town  than  a  jear-old  hare. 
He  came  to  Taoo  0-Ckallaidh,  who  was  going  to 
raise  the  spoil  of  Cailuohb  BuiDHKioHa. 

A  young  chap  was  seen  coming,  his  two  shoulders 
through  his  old  coat,  his  two  ears  through  his  old  hat, 
his  two  squat  kick-ering  tatter-y  shoes  full  of  cold  road- 
way-ish  water,  three  feet  of  his  sword  sideways  on  the 
side  of  his  haunch  after  the  scabbard  was  ended. 

*' What's  this  that  puts  on  ihee  V  said  the  Ceabh- 
amach.    ''  Host  thou  need  of  men  t  ** 

''  Thou  wilt  not  make  a  man  for  me^**  said  0-Coal- 
laidh. 

"Shall  I  not  get  a  man's  share  if  I  do  a  man's 
share  t" 

"  What's  thy  name  ?**  said  Taog. 

"There  is  on  me  (the  name  of)  Ceabhamach 
Saothrach  Suarach  Siubhaii — the  senrile  sorry  strolling 
kern." 

"  What  art  thou  seeking  for  thy  senrice  t** 

"  I  am  but  asking  that  ihou  shouldst  not  foiget 
my  drink." 

"  Whence  camest  thou  ?  " 

**  From  many  a  place  ;  but  I  am  an  Albanach." 

They  went  to  raise  the  raid  of  the  carlin.  They 
raised  the  spoil,  but  they  saw  the  following  ooming. 


314  wma  mesBLAMD  TAUOL 


u 


Be  tiioldiiiig  oat^**  said  great  Taog  to  the  Ceabh- 
amachy  "TLoa  wilt  not  make  tlijr  legs  at  least  Whether 
wottldst  thoa  lathw  torn  the  chase  or  drive  the  spoil 
with  thy  set  of  menl** 

'*  I  would  not  torn  the  chase,  but  if  the  chase 
would  turn,  we  would  drive  the  spoil  at  least" 

The  Ceabharnach  cut  ashaip^  hard  whisUe,  and  the 
drove  lay  down  on  the  road. 

He  turned  to  meet  them.  He  caught  each  one  of 
the  slenderest  legs,  and  the  biggest  head,  and  he  left 
them  stretched  legs  on  head.  He  returned  after  the 
spoil 

^  Tbyself  and  thy  lot  of  men  can  hardly  drive  the 
spoil- 

'*  Tbe  spoil  will  never  get  up,"  said  Taog. 

He  cut  a  whistle :  the  drove  got  up,  and  ho  drove 
it  homa 

It  happene<l  that  the  great  man  forgot  to  give  the 
fint  drink  to  the  Ceabharnach. 

"  Mine  is  the  half  of  the  spoil,"  said  the  Ceabharn- 
ach. 

"  Hiat  is  more  Uian  much  for  tlico,**  said  tlio  king. 

''  Many  a  time  was  I,"  said  the  Coabliamach,  "  and 
Murcha  ^^acB^ian  hewing  shields  and  splitting  blades  ; 
his  was  the  half  of  the  spoil,  and  mine  was  the  other 
half" 

"  If  thou  art  a  comrade  of  that  man,  thou  shalt  have 
half  the  spoil,"  said  Taog. 

But  he  went  away,  and  he  left  themselves  and  the 
spoil 

"  Health  be  with  thee,  oh  Ceabharnach.  Arise  not 
for  ever." 


,» 


BAOHDRAIDH  A   CHBABHARHAIOH.  ]  f  $ 


EACHDRAIDH  A'  CHEABHARHAICH. 

Aw  latbA  *n  d*  thUnig  O  Domhnattl  «  nuch  a  ehamall  oòlr  afut 
€Mit«i%  dnuuiAie  •  ògUch  a*  tighiao.  BhA  'dhA  g hoAlUiiiin  tiVd  a 
•iMAan  toAiiAielM;  a  dhA  ehlnAÌt  tild  a  theAiui  Aids;  a  dhA  hhròig 
cbeigeAiiAeh,  hhreabAHAch,  riobAiuich,  Ihn  a  dh*  niagt  fnAr  ròdAHAcb ; 
tri  troidheAO  dh8*n  ehlaklbeAmh  Air  An  tAobh  fkr  dht  *ihoiii.  An  d«igh 
dh*An  MAbAfd  UiraAcfadainn.  BheAnoAÌeh  •  1«  brÌAthrAÌbh  fATAtdA, 
ior-ghlie,  mine,  oiAÌgfadeAnA.  BhcAnnaich  O  Dornhnnill,  dhA  Air 
hoiBAia  A  bhrÌAthralbh  Mn.  Dh*  nMorhicfa  O  DomhoiiUl  deCh  ciod 
bvDÒtdA.  **  DbèADAÌnn  clhnAÌreAchd,**  Art*  An  GeabhAmAch.  "TbA 
dA  fheAT  dbcog  Agim  rh^«**  art*  O  Dornhnafll,  **  *t  thtid  thin  a 
thcAlUinn  orra.**  "ThA  mi  toUeach  tin  a  dhtanamh,**  art*  an 
Otal>bamach. 

An  nalr  a  chaidh  lad  a  ttaach  dh  larr  0  Domhnnlll  onra  tMttacb- 
adh,  't  tboitieh  lad.  **  An  coal  Uin  etòl  rlarah,  a  Chaabhamaich  a 
'b  brèagha  aa  tin  ?  **  art' 0  DomhonilL  "^  Tbhhiig  mi  teaehad  air 
UHan ;  *t  cha  ehnala  ml  tgraad  lanta  't  grhlnnda  na  tin  I  **  Art'  An 
CtAbhAmaeh. 

**  An  ttinntadh  la  fiAn  cral^  a  Ghaabhamalcfa,**  art*  O  Dooah. 
nnlll. 

■* So  a  ththinaadair  l-agmt Co  aach ninntadiir II  an' an  Caabh- 
amaehl 

*'Tbagaibh  crvit  dha,"  art*  0  DomhnoilL 

**  It  math  a  theinnMa  toa  crvit  I "  an*  O  Domhnuill. 

*'Cha*n  ann  mar  thograa  toaa,  ach  mar  a  thograa  mi  ffin;  oir  it 
mi  tha  *g  obair,"  art*  etan. 

Choir  ecM  a  Chaabhamakh  na-h-oilt  cUmAÌr  a  bh'  Aig  O  Doath- 
amill  *aA  chadal. 

•■Bithkih  mit*  a*  gabhaU  tlhn  laat,**  an  an  Caabhamaeh  ri  0 
Domhaoll. 

•'Chad»anthatinonnaa,''an'OI>omhnniU!  "fMOtaidh  t«  bm 
dhadna  'dhhtgadh." 

'*Tha  mi  *d  I  a  thoirt  tgiV>b  ftadh  Elrion,'*  an*  an  Ceabhamachs 
"flta  thig  mi  *n  mthad  chi  lad,  agnt  mar  d*  thig  biodh  iad  ouir  tin 
agadCAn." 

Dh*  fhhg  at  a  agmt  thachalr  t  air  fmr  a  baachaÌDeadid. 

"  Tha  dhraairtan  do  mhaigbttir  'nan  cadal,**  an' an  Caabhamaeh 
ria  A*  bhBAchAU  V  Agva  cha  dUig  lad  got  an  dhitgcar  iad.  Falbh 
that*  agvadhiig  lad,  't  gbtibh  tha  na  ni  doina  baartach  dUoi" 

'CSawratanimitinr''  Urairl  am  baaehaillc 


3  l6  WUT  HIGHLAND  TALI& 

*  Qftbb  bad  d«'ii  f  heor  sin,  Agus  tarn  aan  aa  viag*  i^  tga  enUh 
orr*  ;  *•  dUisgIdh  tu  iad,"  an*  an  Ceabbamacb.  Db'  f  bag  •*n  daiacb 
*a  rbinig  a  a  Seatliaa  mbr  Mac  an  larbi,  tri  mUa  deug  an  taobb  alar 
da  Lnmraig. 

Cbnnnaio  a  bglacb  a'  tigbinn.  Dba  *dba  gboalafam  tilol  a  ahaan 
ananaicbc^  a  dba  cblnala  tAol  a  ibeann  aide^  a  dba  bhròig  Iba  a  db* 
niaga  fuar,  ròdanacb,  iri  troldbaan  dbe  *n  cblaidbaamb  air  an  taobb 
aiar  dba  tbòln,  an  dtfigb  db*an  tcabard  tatreacbdainn. 

Db*  fbeoraicb  a  dbatb  dod  ba  nòa  dba.  Tbuiii  ^  gtt*n  dèanadb 
a  eleaaacbd. 

**  Tba  deasaicbaan  agam  fofai ;  tbaid  ainn  a  db'  ambare  onrn." 

"Tba  mi  g\6  dbeònacb,"  an'  an  Caabbamadi. 

"  Noebd  do  cblaaaacbd,"  ara*  an  Seatban  mòr,"  adi  am  fide  ainn  a. 

Cbuir  a  tri  atrbbban  air  cbl  a  dboim  agua  ibèid  a  dbetb  iad. 

'•  Na  'm  faigbinn-aa,"  oraa  fear  da  gbiUean  an  rtgb,"  Idtb  ebbig 
mbairg,  dbèanainn  deaaadid  a  b'  f  bearr  na  ain. 

**  Bhair  miae  dn  diUt,"  an'  an  Caabbamadi. 

Cbair  a  tri  itrbibliean  air  cbl  a  dbbirn,  agva  db'  fbalbh  an  dom 
maille  ria  na  atrkibbean. 

**Tba  tba  goirt,  agna  bidb  tu  goirt,"  art'  a  mbdgbatlr."  Mo 
bbaannadid  dr  an  Ibimb  a  tbug  dboit  a." 

**  Ni  mi  deasacbd  eila  dbnit,"  art'  an  C«abhamacb. 

Rug  a  dr  a*  cbloaia  aige  ftfin,  agua  thug  e  tarruinn  oirra. 

**  Na  'm  faigbion-sa  leitb  cbUig  mbeirg,"  ana  fear  a'  dagbiUean* 
an  r\gb,  **  dhèannain  deasacbd  a  b'  f  bebrr  na  tin. 

"  Bheir  miie  tin  duit,"  art*  an  Ceabbarnach. 

Thug  a  tarruion  air  a  chluait,  'i  Uibinig  an  oaann  Icii  a  obloaia. 

*'  Tba  mi  'falbh,"  art'  an  Ceabbarnach. 

^  Cha  *n  fhkg  thu  mo  chuid  daoine-sa  agam  mar  aln." 

"  Tlu  mi  'dol  a  thoirt  t^riob  fuadh  Einnn ;  ma  thig  mi  'a  rathad 
chi  mi  iad,  agua  mar  d'  thig  biodh  iad  mar  tin  agad  f^,"  art'  an 
Ceabbarnach. 

Dh'  fhalbh  a  agut  thacbair  e  air  dnine  'bualadb  ann  an  aabbal, 
agut  dh*  fbeòrdcb  e  dbetb  am  b'  urrainn  'obdr  a  ebumdi  tuaa. 

**  Cha  mbòr  nach  b'  uilear  dbomb  e,"  art*  am  fear  budaidb. 

«Ni  mit'/'art  an  Ceabbamacb,  **duine  taor  dliiot  ri  d'bbeò. 
Tba  diihit  de  ghillean  do  mbaighttir,  't  fear  's  an  dom  dbetb,  agua 
fear  eile  *a  an  cean  detb ;  faibb  thus'  agut  cuir  orr*  iad,  'a  ni  do 
mbaigbttir  duine  aaoibhir  dbiot  ri  d*  bbeb." 

**  Co  leit  a  bheir  mi  beò  iad  f*  art*  am  fear  a  bha  'bualadb. 

**  Gabh  bad  fodair ;  turn  ann  an  uitg  'e,  crath  orr*  e,  agua  ni  thu 
*n  leigheat/'  art'  an  Ceabbarnach. 


■▲0HDBA1DH  a'  OHIABHàRNAIOH.  J 1  ^ 

Dh*  flulbh  •,  agns  thaÌDig  t  gu  fwr  dibigeamh  Mhamha,  doiiM 
moMcb  nach  fnilingeadh  do  dbain«  *dhol  rathad  a  thmigha ;  gn  h- 
braid  an  nair  a  bhiodh  •  *gabbail  a  bbVlbe.  BhA  dba  dheag  a  Indid 
Cbnadbao  air  a*  gbcaU  *maif  b ;  a  dba  dbang  a  Incbd  dilbidbaan  air 
A*  gbeata  *tUif  b ;  doriair  air  an  dorua  mbòr. 

Cbonnaic  iad  òglaeb  a*  tigbinn ;  a  dba  gbnalainn  liM  a  abeAoa 
avanaicbe ;  a  dba  cblnaia  trid  a  tbaAan  aide ;  a  dbA  bbrbig  ebaigaaii. 
aeb,  bbreabanach,  riobanaeb,  Ibn  a  db'  uisga  fnar,  rodanaeb. 

Db*  iarr  e  'ebaad  orra  *iUigb  a  db*  fbaidnn  FeAr  Cbaigaamb 
MbsmbA.  Tbog  fear  dbiu  a  tboadb  gna  an  eeann  a  ebor  dbetb,  acb 
'a  Ann  a  bbnail  a  air  a  cbompAnAcb  L  Db'  diricb  lAd  aIt  a  eb^ile, 
gna  an  do  mbarbb  iad  a  cb^le.  Tbkinig  e  gu  Incbd  nan  dbidliean. 
Tbog  fear  a  cblaidbe  gna  an  oeann  a  ebnr  dbetli,  Acb  gbeArr  e  *n 
ceann  d*a  cbompanacb,  agna  db*  eiricb  lad  nile  *mbArbbAdb  a  chtfle. 
Rkinig  e  *n  doraair.  Rag  e  air  cliaol  cliaaan  air  agna  bbnail  e 
ebeann  ria  an  dome.  Rkinig  e  'n  Dnine  mbr,  Agns  e  *nA  abnidbe 
aig  A  dbitbit    Sbeaa  e  alg  ceann  a'  bbbird. 

*  0*Dbrocb  Dhuine  I  **  art'  an  rtgb,  "  bn  mbòr  do  ehall  mn  'n  d* 
tbbinigtbu'n  tol**  agna  e  *g  diridb  *8  a' brcitb  air  a'  cbkidbe^gna 
A*  ebeann  a  tboirt  deib.  Lean  a  Ibmb  ria  a  obÌAÌdlie,  ague  Icaa  a 
mhka  ria  a'  cbaitbir,  agna  cbn  b*  urrainn  a  bbeAn  a  b-kito  Cfin 
fbbgAÌL 

An  nair  a  rinn  e  nn  b-nile  ni  *bn  mbinnn  leia  db*  fbaibb  e^  agna 
tbAchalr  e  air  dnine  bochd  a  bhA  YAlbb  An  i.«MgbAll.  *<  Ma  gbabbai 
In  mo  clionihairle-aa,**  ariT  an  CeAbbamacb  ria  an  dnine  bhociid,  **  ni 
■a  dnine  aona  dhWt  (bad  *§  ia  beò  Urn.** 

**  Cionnna  a  ni  tbn  ain  T*  are*  an  dniae  bocbd. 

"  TbA  *n  rtgb  agna  a*  biian-rigb  le  'm  mbaan  oeaagailte  ri  *n  caitb- 
ricbean  ;  faibb  tbna'  agna  fuaagail  iad,  agna  nl  *n  ligh  dnine  mbr 
dblot,**  an*  an  Ceabbamacb. 

"  Cionnna  a  db*  fbnaagÌAa  miiT  iad  ?**  ara*  an  dnicn  bocbd. 

*■  Cratb  aiag*  orra  agna  eirldb  iad,"  ara*  an  CeabbamAeb. 

•*  Db*  fbaibb  e  ea  a'  ain,  ague  rbinig  e  Rob  Mae  Sboole  Mbie  a' 
Lagain,  agna  e  (nidb  eucail  *nA  cbola  taà  abcacbd  blindbna.  BbnAÌl' 
e  baa  ri  crann.  Db'  fbeoraicb  en  doranir  oo  *bb*  Ann.  Tbnirt  eaan 
gu  *robb  leigbicbe. 

«■  *8  lomadb  leigbicbe  'Ibkinig,**  ara*  an  doraair;  *ebA  *n  *aa 
eeaaa  alob  *a  a*  bbaile  gnn  ebeann  leigbich*  acb  an  t-aon ;  agna,  db* 
fbaododb  e  'bbitb  gnr  b-ann  airaoo  do  ebbin-aa  'Ibn  *m  has  ainn.** 

•■CbA  *n  fbAodadb,**  ara*  an  Ceabbamacb ;  *  leig  a  atigb  bL" 

"Clod  a  iba  *cnr  ort  a  Rob?** era'  an  Ceabbamacb. 

•  TbA,  BM  ebAi  A*  gAbbAfl  rinai  o  chcAun  abencbd  bUadbML    Dh' 


3lB  WUT  mOHLAVD  TALB. 


nMirtlldi  i  tir  Idgh  tgn  IdgliiclMMH*  am  Bob  Hae  8kMÌ«  Ic  a' 
I.4igaUi. 

-Sin  do  diM  nAÌt,"  «rt'  ui  CwMiimficii,  "A' 
bdr  tba  air  an  da  toigb  dbcsg,  no  'm  beir  an  da  leigk 

Dh*  airtch  a.    Cba  bbatraadh  daina  lam  bitk 
aadh  a  fcio  air  na  h-aOa  fear  alia  I 

"Cha  *n  ail  agam  ach  aoo-gUa  bwadharti  ai^dui.*  ana  Sab^ 
''afoa  bbair  midhuit  i,  agva  laitli  bm  rkgbadid." 

"Math  BO  ole  i,"  an'  an  CfabJiamacii,  "Uàk  igiaw  —  ì«m1 
Mn.** 

Chaidh  àrd  a  char  air  baaaia  do  *n  Cliaabhanaeh ;  ack  ^oair  a 
bha  iail  an  deign  a*  bbanala  allaebadb,  bn  hiaith'  a  aa  a*  bfciila  aa 
gakrr.bbliadbnacb.  Tbàinig  a  gn  Taog  inòr  O  Oraìtoidb,  i^aa  a 
*dol  a  tbogail  craaeb  na  baillicba  Baldbnidia. 

Cbnnocat  ògbich  a'  tighlnn, 

A  dba  gbnalainn  irid  a  ibcann  tnanalcfaa ; 

A  dba  ebluaU  trtd  a  theann  aida ; 

A  dba  bhròig  cbeigaanacb,  bbreabanaeb,  riobaaach, 

Lkn  a  dh*  oiiga  fuar,  rodanach; 

Tri  troidbaan  dba  *n  cblaldhaamb 

Air  an  taobb  aiar  d*a  dbairaadh. 

An  dtfigb  do  *n  tmaill  ieireachdainn. 

"Ciod  to  'tha  'cor  ort?"  an*  aa  Caabbamacb  ri  Taog  mor  O 
Ceallaidh,  •  Am  bheil  feum  dhaoin*  ort?** 

**  Cha  dean  thuM  duine  dhomb,**  an*  O  CaalUddc. 

**  Nach  faigh  ml  cold  fir  ma  ni  mi  cuidfir?"  an*  an  Caabb- 
amacli. 

"  C*  ainm  a  th'  ort  ?**  arsa  Taog. 

**  Tha  Caabhamach  laothrach,  suaracb  sinbbail  onn,**  an*  aaan. 

'<Ciod  a  tha  thu  *g  iarraidh  ainon  do  aheirbbiaT**  araa  Taog. 
**  Cha  'n  'eil  ach  gun  thu  'dhèanamh  daannad  dibb*  orm/'  an*  an 
Caabbamacb. 

*"  Co  ai  a  tbkinig  tbu  ?**  ana  Taog. 

**  A  iomadh  kit*,  ach  It  Albannacb  mi,**  an*  aian, 

Dh'  fholbh  lad  a  tbogail  creacb  na  caillicba.  Tbog  lad  a*  ohrc^cb, 
ach  chuonaic  lad  an  tòlr  a*  tigblnn. 

**  111  *s\neadh  at/*  arsa  Taog  mor  ria  a*  Oheabbamach.  *  Clta 
dean  thuaa  do  cbaean  oo-dhlu.  Co  'la  fbarr  leat  an  tbir  a  pblUaadh 
na  *chreach  lomain  le  d*  chuid  daoina.** 

*'Cha  phillear  an  toir  acb  na  'm  pilleadb  an  toir  db*  iom- 
aioeamaid  a'  chreach  oo-dhlu.** 


BAOHDRalDH  A*  OHIABHARWAIOH.  $  1 9 

Qhaarr  aa  CeabhAmach  faad  ehaol,  diniaidh,  *•  Inidh  a  chrtaeh 
air  an  rathad-mhor.    Phlll  a  'n  eoinneamb  aa  tolr. 

Rug  e  air  na  h-nfle  foar  a  Im  ehaoile  eai  agui  a  Im  mho  oaano, 
*•  dh*  fhkg  «  lad  "nan  tiiMadh  eai  air  cbaaim.  PhiU  a  *n  d^h  na 
ortKlia. 

**  If  dona  'dli*  iomainaas  In  f(Aa  aga  do  ehnid  daoina  ehroacli,'* 
an*  an  Caabhamach. 

"Clia  *n  Arich  a*  chraach  fn  brbtb,"  ana  TAog. 

Gheair  «  fead,  'a  dli'  Oxkh  a'  ehraach,  'b  dh'  lomain  a  dhaeb- 
aklb  lad. 

Thaebair  gu  'n  do  dbaarmald  aa  Dnina  mor  aa  dibh  a  tboirt  air 
Uia  do  *n  Chaabhamaeb. 

**  It  laamia  laith  aa  creicba,**  art*  an  Ceabbamaeb. 

**  Tba  *n  tin  iaillaadb  a*8  eua  doit  **  art*  an  r)gb. 

*  Is  miaig  a  bba  raia*,**  art*  an  Caabhamaebt  "agas  Mnrehadb 
MacBriaa  a'  gearradb  agiatb  '•  a*  igoltadb  laaa;  bu  Wa-aaa  toiUi 
die,"  art*  aa  Caabbaraaeb. 

**  Ma  *•  oompaaaeb  tba  do  *a  dalaa  ala  gbelbh  tba  Mtb  aacrtkha,** 
anaTaog. 

Adi  db'  fbaibb  a,  'a  db'  fbbg  a  lad  f^n  agva  a*  duaadL 

JBlba  laat  a'  Chaabharnateb ;  aa  airieb  gu  brbtb. 

8.  A  third  ToraioB  of  thia  eartooa  tale  waa  ìM  to  ma  ia  Sooth 
Uifi,  bj  MacPbia.    It  waa  ¥017  lika  the  Terdon  tdd  bj  Ji 
Wilaon,  blind  fiddler  ia  laUj. 

It  ia  afidentlj  a  coapodtioa  fidlea  to  bita,  aad  meaded 
proae,  aad  it  it  eqoaUj  dear  that  it  poiata  to  Iralaad,  thoagb 
the  hero  waa  made  a  Sootchmaa  by  the  three  old  mea. 

Aa  a  pictore  of  bjgoae  maaaera,  thia  la  cariooa,  aad  I  kaow 
aothing  at  all  like  it  ia  aaj  ooUectioa  of  popolar  talea. 

1  beKoTe  it  to  be  aome  bardie  recitatioa  balf-forgottea.  It  ia 
aaid  that  ia  the  aiooth  of  one  redter  ia  Iilaj,  the  atory  aaed  to 
laat  for  foar  boara. 

I  Uielj  (September  IMO)  beard  MacPbie  repeat  hia  terftoa 
in  part.  It  waa  a  mixtare  of  the  two  feraioBa  here  given,  aad  a 
fifth,  Iriah  grandee,  waa  added. 


XVIIA 

THE  TALE  OP  THE  SHIFTY  LAD, 
THE  WIDOWS  SON. 

¥nm  Joka  Dtwtr,  Anoduu;  Jum  I8CO1 


THERE  iri8  ti  ■ome  tinie  or  oilier  before  now  a 
widow,  end  alie  bed  one  eon.  Sbe  gere  bim  good 
•cboolin^  end  ebe  wie  wiebfol  tbei  he  ebonld  chooee 
a  trede  for  bimeelf ;  but  be  eeid  be  would  not  go  to 
leem  any  art,  bat  that  he  would  be  a  thief. 

Hie  mother  said  to  him,  **  If  that  is  the  ait  that 
thou  art  going  to  chooee  for  thine  ownael^  thine  end  is 
to  be  hanged  at  the  bridge  of  Baile  Cliath,*  in  Tgirtnu. 

But  it  was  no  matter,  ho  would  not  go  to  anj  art^ 
but  to  be  a  thief ;  and  his  mother  was  always  making 
a  prophecy  to  liim  that  the  end  of  him  would  be, 
hanging  at  the  Bridge  of  Baile  Cliath,  in  Eirinn. 

On  a  day  of  the  days,  the  widow  was  going  to  the 
church  to  hear  the  sermon,  and  was  asking  the  Shifty 
Lad,  her  son,  to  go  with  her,  and  that  he  should  giro 
oyer  his  bad  courses  ;  but  he  would  not  go  with  her  ; 
but  he  said  to  her,  **  The  first  art  of  which  thou  hear- 
est  mention,  aflor  thou  hast  come  out  from  the  sermon, 
is  the  art  to  which  I  will  go  afterwards.** 

She  went  to  the  church  full  of  good  courage^ 
hoping  that  she  would  hear  some  good  thing. 

•  Dublin. 


THB  TALI  OF  THl  BHIFTT  LLD,  $2 1 

He  went  away,  and  he  went  to  a  toft  of  wood  that 
was  near  to  the  church  ;  and  he  went  in  hiding  in  a 
place  where  he  could  see  his  mother  when  she  should 
come  out  of  the  church;  and  as  soon  as  she  came  out  he 
shouted,  **  Thieyery  I  thierery  I  thierery  I "  She  looked 
about^  but  she  could  not  make  out  whence  the  Toioe 
was  coming,  and  she  went  home.  He  ran  by  the  way 
of  the  short  cut^  and  he  was  at  the  house  before  her, 
and  he  was  seated  within  beside  the  fire  when  she 
came  home.  He  asked  her  what  tale  she  had  got ;  and 
she  said  that  she  had  not  got  any  tale  at  all,  but  that 
^  thierery,  thierery,  thieyery,  was  the  first  speech  she 
heard  when  she  came  out  of  the  church.** 

He  said  **  That  was  the  art  that  he  would  haya** 

And  she  said,  as  she  was  accustomed  to  say,  "  Thine 
ending  is  to  be  hanged  at  the  bridge  of  Baile  Claith, 
in  Eirinn.** 

On  the  next  day,  his  mother  herself  thought^  that 
as  nothing  at  all  would  do  for  her  son  but  that  he 
should  be  a  thief^  that  she  would  try  to  find  him  a 
good  aid-to-leaming ;  and  she  went  to  the  gadaiche 
dubh  of  Aachaloinne,  the  black  gallows  bird  of  Aacha- 
lotnne,  a  very  cunning  thief  who  was  in  that  place ;  and 
though  they  had  knowledge  that  he  was  giyen  to  steal- 
ings they  were  not  finding  any  way  for  catching  him. 
The  widow  asked  the  Black  Jlogue  if  he  would  take 
her  son  to  teach  him  roguery.  The  Black  Bogue 
said,  ^  If  he  were  a  cleyer  lad  that  he  would  take  him, 
and  if  there  were  a  way  of  making  a  thief  of  him  that 
he  could  do  it ;  and  a  covenant  was  made  between  the 
Black  Bogue  and  the  Shifty  Lad. 

When  the  Shifty  Lad,  the  widow's  son,  was  mak- 
ing ready  for  going  to  the  Black  Bogue,  his  mother 
was  giying  him  counsel,  and  she  said  to  him,  "  It  is 
against  my  will  that  thoo  art  going  to  thiareiy ;  and  I 


322  WK8T  BIOBLAIID  TALB. 

was  telling  thee,  that  the  end  of  thee  is  to  be  hai^ped 
at  the  bridge  of  BaUe  Cliath,  Eirinn;"  but  the  SI^ 
Lad  went  home  to  the  Bkck  Bogae. 

The  Black  Bogue  was  giving  the  Shif^  Lad  ewaj 
knowledge  he  might  for  doing  thieyerj;  he  used  to 
tell  him  about  the  cunning  things  that  he  must  do^  to 
get  a  chance  to  steal  a  thing ;  and  when  the  Black 
Rogue  thought  that  the  Shifty  Lad  was  good  enough 
at  learning  to  bo  taken  out  with  him,  ho  used  to  take 
him  out  with  him  to  do  stealing ;  and  on  a  day  of 
these  days  the  Black  Bogue  said  to  his  lad, 

''  We  are  long  enough  thus,  we  must  go  and  do 
somethiug.  There  is  a  rich  tenant  near  to  us,  and  he 
has  much  money  in  his  chest  It  was  he  who  bought 
all  that  there  was  of  cattle  to  be  sold  in  the  country, 
and  he  took  them  to  the  fair,  and  he  sold  them ;  he 
has  got  the  money  in  his  chesty  and  this  is  the  time  to 
bo  at  him,  before  the  people  are  paid  for  their  lot  of 
cattle  ;  and  unless  we  go  to  seek  the  money  at  this 
very  hour,  when  it  is  gathered  together,*  we  shall  not 
got  the  same  chance  again.'* 

The  Shifly  Lad  was  as  willing  as  himself ;  they 
went  away  to  the  house,  they  got  in  at  tlie  coming  on 
of  the  night,  and  they  went  up  upon  the  loil,f  and 
they  went  in  hiding  up  Uiore ;  and  it  was  the  night  of 
Samiiain,  Halloween ;  and  there  assembled  many 
people  within  to  keep  the  Savain  hearty  as  they  used 
to  do.  They  sat  together,  and  they  were  singing  songs, 
and  at  fun  burning  the  nuts  ;\  and  at  merry-making. 

The  Shifty  Lad  was  wearying  that  the  company 

*  Round  to  eaoh  other. 
•  t  The  loll  meant,  is  the  fpace  in  the  roof  of  a  cottage  which  ia 
above  tbe  raflerR,  and  is  used  as  a  kind  of  store. 

I  See  Dewar'a  note  at  the  Gaelic  for  his  account  of  this. 


THB  TALI  OF  THB  amFTT  LAD.  325 

was  not  scattering ;  he  got  np  and  he  went  down  to 
the  byie,  and  he  loosed  the  bands  off  the  necks  of  the 
cattle,  and  he  returned  and  he  went  up  npon  the  loft 
again.  The  cattle  began  goring  each  other  in  the  byre, 
and  roaring.  All  that  were  in  the  room  ran  to  keep 
the  cattle  from  each  other  till  they  could  be  tied  again; 
and  in  the  time  while  they  were  doing  this,  the  Shifty 
Lad  went  down  to  the  room  and  he  stole  the  nuts  with 
him,  and  he  went  up  upon  the  loft  again,  and  he  lay 
down  at  the  back  of  the  Black  Bogne. 

There  was  a  great  leathern  hide  at  the  back  of  the 
Black  Bogue,  and  the  Shifty  Lad  had  a  needle  and 
thread,  and  he  sewed  the  skirt  of  the  Black  Bogae*s 
coat  to  the  leathern  hide  that  was  at  his  back ;  and 
when  the  people  of  the  hoose  came  back  to  the  dwell- 
ing room  again,  their  nuts  were  away ;  and  they  were 
seeking  their  nuts  ;  and  they  thought  that  it  was  some 
one  who  had  come  in  to  play  them  a  trick  that  had 
taken  away  their  nuts,  and  they  sat  down  at  the  side 
of  the  fire  quietly  and  silently. 

Said  the  Shifty  Lsd  to  the  Bhick  Bogue,  "^  I  will 
crack  a  nut** 

""Thou  shalt  not  crack  (oneX"  said  the  Black 
Bogue ;  ^  they  will  hear  thee,  and  we  shall  be 
caught*' 

Said  the  Shifty  Lad,  ^  I  never  yet  was  a  Sarain 
night  without  cracking  a  nut,**  and  he  cracked  one. 

Those  who  were  seated  in  the  dwelling-room  heard 
him,  and  they  said, 

"  There  is  some  one  up  on  the  loft  cracking  our 
nuts,  we  will  go  and  catch  them." 

When  the  Black  Bogue  heard  that,  he  sprang  off 
the  loft  and  he  ran  out,  and  the  hide  dragging  at  the 
tail  of  his  coat     Every  one  of  them  shouted  that  there 

the  Black  Bogue  stealing  the  hide  with  him.   The 


y 


334  WVT  mOHLAVD  TALB. 

Black  Bogae  fled,  and  the  people  of  the  honae  after 
him ;  and  he  waa  a  great  diatance  from  the  houae  be- 
fore he  got  the  hide  torn  from  him,  and  (waa  able)  to 
leave  them.  But  in  the  time  that  the  people  of  the 
honae  were  running  after  the  Black  Bogne^  the  Shiflj 
Lad  came  down  off  the  loft ;  he  went  up  about  the 
liouae,  he  hit  upon  the  cheat  where  the  gold  and  the 
ailyer  waa ;  he  opened  the  cheat,  and  he  took  out  of  it 
Hie  baga  in  which  the  gold  and  ailyer  waa,  that  waa  in 
the  cheat ;  and  he  took  with  him  a  load  of  the  bread 
and  of  the  butter,  and  of  the  cheeae,  and  of  everything 
that  waa  better  than  another  which  he  found  within ; 
and  he  waa  gone  before  the  people  of  the  houae  came 
back  fW)m  chaaing  the  Black  Bc^e. 

When  the  Black  Bogue  reached  hia  home^  and  he 
had  nothing,  hia  wife  aaid  to  him,  ^  How  haat  thou 
failed  thia  journey  t " 

Then  the  Black  Bogue  told  hia  own  tale  ;  and  he 
waa  in  great  fury  at  the  Shifty  Lad,  and  awearing  that 
he  would  serve  liim  out  when  he  got  a  chance  at  him. 

At  the  end  of  a  little  while  after  that^  the  Shifty 
Lad  came  in  with  a  load  upon  him. 

Said  the  wife  of  the  Black  Bogue,  '^But^  I  fancy 
that  thou  art  the  better  thief  !'* 

The  Black  Bogue  said  not  a  word  till  the  Shifty 
I^ad  shewed  the  bags  that  he  had  full  of  gold  and  ail- 
yer ;  then,  said  the  Black  Bogue,  "  But  it  is  thou  that 
wert  the  smart  lad  !" 

Tliey  made  two  halves  of  the  gold  and  silver,  and 
the  Black  Bogue  got  the  one  hal^  and  the  Sliifty  Lad 
the  other  half.  When  the  Black  Bogue's  wife  saw  the 
share  that  came  to  them,  she  said,  ''Thou  thyself  art 
the  wortliy  thief  I "  and  she  had  more  respect  for  him 
after  thai,  than  she  had  for  the  Black  Bogue  himsell 

At  the  «nd  of  a  few  weeks  after  that,  a  wedding 


THB  TALI  OF  THB  BHIfTTLAD.  ^2$ 

was  to  be  in  the  neighbourhood ;  and  it  was  the  cus- 
tom of  the  coontry,  when  anj  who  were  well  off  were 
asked,  that  thej  should  send  some  gift  or  other  to  the 
people  of  the  wedding.  There  was  a  rich  tenant,  and 
he  was  asked ;  and  he  desired  his  herd  to  go  to  the 
mountain  moor  and  bring  home  a  wether  for  Uie  people 
of  the  wedding.  *  The  herd  went  up  the  mountain  and 
he  got  the  wether,  and  he  was  going  home  with  it ; 
and  he  had  it  on  bis  back  when  he  was  going  past  the 
house  of  the  Black  Bogue. 

Said  the  Shiftj  Lad  to  his  master,  '^  What  wager 
wilt  thou  Imj  that  I  do  not  steal  the  wether  from  the 
back  of  that  man  jei,  before  he  reaches  the  house." 

Said  the  Black  Bogue,  **  I  will  lay  thee  a  wager  of 
a  hundred  marks  that  thou  canst  not ;  how  shouldst 
thou  steal  the  thing  that  is  on  his  back  !** 

'*  Howsoeyer  I  do  it,  I  will  try  ity^'said  the  Shifty  Lad. 

''Well,  then,  if  thou  dostMt,**  said  the  Bhusk 
Bogue,  ''  I  will  give  thee  a  hundred  marks." 

"  It  is  a  bargain,"  said  the  Shifty  Lad ;  and  with 
that  he  went  away  after  the  herd. 

The  herd  had  to  go  through  a  wood,  and  the  Shifty 
Lad  took  the  ground  that  was  hidden  from  him  until 
he  got  before  him ;  and  he  put  some  dirt  in  his  shoe, 
and  he  set  his  shoe  on  the  road  before  the  herd,  and 
he  himself  went  in  hiding  ;  and  when  the  herd  came 
forward,  and  he  saw  the  shoe,  he  said,  "  But  thou  art 
dirty,  and  though  thou  art,  if  thy  fellow  were  there  I 
would  clean  thee  ;**  and  he  went  past 

The  Shifty  Jjbu);  lifked  the  shoe,  and  he  ran  round 
about  and  he  was  before  the  herd,  and  he  put  his  other 
shoe  on  the  road  before  him.  When  the  herd  cania 
forward  and  saw  the  other  shoe  on  the  road  before 
him,  he  said  to  himself  ^*  But  there  is  the  fellow  of  the 
dirty  shoe." 


%26 


EmaAtìm 

wilwiQekBi  it^  flui  I 
te  my  tnahfe;  aidbB 
The  ai^  Lad  on  flvillif ,  sd  bs 

wad  bs  took  wi&  Mm  tiis  tv« 
to  In  MhFT,  flui  ht  got 
froB.  bs  bhIk 
Tl»  h«l  mat  ham^  aaà  ht  told  Ui 
hnamtU  hair  it  had  hffihlleii  hÙB.     Hm 

Ae  Best  ^  im 
toMk  akid^iiBtoid  nf  &• 


Ih«  liod  wot  cirqr  to  tbe  kin  flui  k»  got  Itold  of 
«kiJ,aadlMtMdii;  ht  psi  itoshiilacl 
amvf  to  giihamm  wtAìL  TWSUftjLid 
ht  wot  to  tito  wood,  and  ht  WW  Ikm 
mnd  he  went  in  hiding,  and  ha  hcgan  al  hlralhig  fika 
the  wHhn:  The  herd  thoQ^t  thai  it  waa  tlie  wether 
that  waa  in  it ;  and  he  pot  the  kid  oS  him,  and  be 
left  it  at  the  aide  of  the  road,  and  he  went  to  aeek  the 
wether.  At  the  time  when  the  herd  waa  afrking  the 
wether,  the  Shiftj  Lad  wait  and  he  atole  tbe  kid  with 
him,  and  he  went  home  with  it  to  the  Bladt  Sogne. 

When,  the  herd  went  back  to  where  he  had  kit 
the  kid,  the  kid  waa  gone,  the  kid  waa  not  in  it ;  he 
aoo^t  the  kid,  and  when  he  ooold  not  find  the  kid,  he 
went  home  and  he  tokl  hia  maater  how  it  had  hrfaìlffn 
him  ;  and  hia  master  aeolded  him,  hot  there  waa  no 
ht\p  for  it 

On  the  next  daj  the  tenant  aakod  hia  herd  to  go  up 
the  mountain  and  bring  home  a  atot ;  to  be  sore  that 
he  did  not  loee  it  The  herd  went  np  the  mountain, 
and  he  got  a  good  fat  atot^  and  he  waa  diiring  it  home. 
The  Shiftj  Lad  aaw  him,  and  he  said  to  the  Black  Kogne, 


THB  TALI  OF  THB  BHnrrr  LAD.        327 

"  Tugain,  come  along,  and  we  will  go  and  try  to  steal 
the  atot  from  the  herd  when  he  ia  going  through  the 
wood  with  it** 

The  Black  Rogue  and  the  Shifty  Lad  went  away  to 
the  wood  before  the  herd ;  and  when  the  herd  was 
going  through  the  wood  with  the  stot^  tlie  Block  Rogue 
was  in  the  one  place  haa-ing,  and  the  shifty  lad  in 
another  bleating  like  a  goat  The  herd  heard  them, 
and  he  thought  that  he  would  get  the  wether  and  the 
kid  again.  lie  tied  the  stot  to  a  tree,  and  wont  all 
about  Uio  wood  socking  Uio  wotlior  and  the  kid,  and  ho 
sought  them  till  he  was  tired.  While  ho  was  seeking 
the  wethor  and  the  kid,  the  Shifty  Lad  went^  and  he 
stole  with  him  the  stot,  and  ho  took  it  homo  with  him 
to  the  house  of  the  Black  Rogue.  The  Black  Rogue 
went  home  after  him,  and  they  killed  the  stot^  and  they 
put  it  in  hiding,  and  the  Black  Roguo*s  wife  had  good 
puddings  for  them  that  night  When  the  herd  came 
back  to  the  tree  whore  he  had  left  the  stot  tied,  the  stol 
was  not  thoro.  Ho  knew  that  the  stot  had  boon  stolon. 
Ho  went  home  and  he  told  his  master  how  it  had  hap- 
pened, and  his  master  scolded  him,  but  there  was  no 
help  for  it 

On  the  next  day  his  master  asked  the  herd  to  go 
up  the  mountain  and  to  bring  homo  a  wether,  and  not 
lot  it  come  off  his  back  at  all  till  ho  should  come  home, 
whatoYor  he  might  see  or  hoar.  The  herd  wont  away, 
and  he  went  up  the  mountain  and  ho  got  the  wether,  f^ 
and  ho  sucoooded  in  taking  that  wether  homo. 

The  Black  Rogue  and  the  Shifty  Lad  wont  on 
stealing  till  they  had  got  much  money,  and  they  thought 
that  they  had  bettor  buy  a  drove  (of  cattle)  and  go  to 
the  fair  with  it  to  sell,  and  that  people  would  think  that 
it  was  at  droToring  thoy  had  made  the  money  that  they 
had  got    Iho  two  wenti  and  they  bought  a  grealidrore 


t»di 


j- 


aH 


ik 


i« 


*r 


oi: 
tiK  0— gbtfc  Jt  mg—^f^     r^^dLoi^iii 


ÌftÌIL 


lìÌB  OOTU 


fiQ^ 


Tlift  Hlftdt:  Raiiiift  ^iaar  tSut  oani^  an£  dm 

bìinic.  :iia  :3iift^  Hjtf.  -^nntg  ina  la^.  jqiL  tfe»  HTìm&' 
fiagae  jbc  jihl  Iowil. 

ha  mui  x  iia  Black  HojpiB,.  '*  TTiim  tÌLYaiOf  &aa  mm 

làuuv  ^ruiiitifi  jòiiiia  :SL7  Le^  iiEiiaii^i:lttBii^i£  tàintvat 
àaOi' 

.^buit  Sift  Blaak  Sd^iB^  "^lLiRÌI  t2Ej  ii  te%9»t&[rit  I 
iiui^  jcnnxr  wimi:  ni  is  iÌGi.  *" 

^Iiiv'*  »ui  :^  i9iiiS&f  Iflii  ;  '^■ui  vftjofi  tìbn  st 

t^   HVu^  Lhi  -trrw  firm  1:;^  abA ;   aui  w&tfm  tàe 


THB  TALI  OF  Tfifi  8HIPTT  tAD.  329 

against  iho  gallows,  he  said  to  him,  ^  Now,  when  thoa 
wantest  to  come  down,  whisUe,  and  if  thoa  art  wall 
pleased  where  thoa  art,  shake  thj  lega.** 

When  the  Black  Rogae  was  a  little  blink  abore, 
he  began  to  shake  his  legs  and  to  kick ;  and  the  Shifty 
Lad  woald  saj,  "  Oh  1  art  thoa  not  fann  j  1  art  thoa 
not  fonnj  I  art  thoa  not  -fonnj  1  When  it  seems  to 
thee  that  thoa  art  long  enough  abore  whistle.** 

Bat  the  Black  Boga^  has  not  whistled  yet  The 
Shifty  Lad  tied  the  ooid  to  the  lower  end  of  the  tree 
of  the  gaUows  till  the  Black  Kogae  was  dead ;  then  he 
went  where  he  was,  and  he  took  the  money  oat  of  his 
poach,  and  he  said  to  him,  ^  Now,  since  thoa  hast  no 
longer  any  ase  for  this  money,  I  will  take  care  of  it 
for  thee.*'  And  he  went  away,  and  he  left  the  Black 
Bogae  hanging  there.  Then  he  went  home  where  was 
the  hoase  of  the  Black  Bogae,  and  his  wife  asked 
where  was  his  master  I 

The  Shifty  Lad  said,  ^  I  left  him  where  he  was, 
apraised  above  the  earth.** 

The  wife  of  the  Black  Bogae  asked  and  asked  him 
aboat  her  man,  till  at  last  he  told  her,  bat  he  said  to 
her,  that  he  woald  marry  her  himsel£  When  she 
heard  that,  she  cried  that  the  Shifty  Lad  had  killed 
his  master,  and  he  was  nothing  bat  a  thief  When 
the  Shifty  Lad  heard  that  he  fled.  The  chase  was  set 
after  him ;  bat  he  foand  means  to  go  in  hiding  in  a 
eaye,  and  the  chase  went  past  him.  He  was  in  the 
eave  all  night,  and  the  next  day  he  went  another  way, 
and  be  foand  means  to  fly  to  Eirinn. 

He  reached  the  hoase  of  a  wright^  and  he  cried  at 
the  door,  "  Let  me  in.** 

«"  Who  art  thoa  f  **  said  the  wright 

^  I  am  a  good  wright^  if  thoa  hast  need  of  soch,** 
said  the  Shiffy  Lad. 


350  WI8T  HIOHLAKD  TALB^ 

The  Wright  opened  the  door,  and  he  lei  in  flie 
Shifty  Ladf  and  the  Shiffy  Lad  hegan  to  wcitk  at  car> 
pentering  along  with  the  wright. 

When  the  Shifty  Lad  waa  a  daj  or  two  in  their 
home,  he  gave  a  glanee  thither  and  a  g^anoe  hither 
about  the  house,  and  he  said,  ^  O  choin !  what  a  poor 
house  you  have,  and  the  king^a  atore-houae  ao  near 
you." 

'*  What  of  that,**  aaid  the  wright 

'<  It  ia/'  aaid  the  Shifty  Lad,  ^"  that  you  might  get 
plenty  from  the  king'a  atore-houae  if  you  youraelyea 
were  smart  enough.** 

Tlie  wright  and  hia  wife  would  say,  '*  They  would 
put  us  in  prison  if  we  should  begin  at  the  like  of 
that" 

The  Shifty  Lad  waa  always  saying  that  they  ought 
to  break  into  the  king's  store-house^  and  they  would 
find  plenty  in  it ;  but  the  wright  would  not  go  with 
him ;  but  the  Shifty  Lad  took  with  him  some  of  the 
tools  of  the  wright,  and  he  went  himself  and  he  broke 
into  the  king's  store-house,  and  he  took  with  him  a 
loa4  of  t)ie  butter- and  of  the  cheese  of  the  king,  and  he 
took  it  to  the  house  of  the  wright  The  things  pleased 
the  wife  of  the  wright  well,  and  she  waa  willing  that 
hor  own  husband  should  go  there  the  next  night  llie 
wright  himself  went  with  his  lad  the  next  nighty  and 
they  got  into  the  storehouse  of  the  king,  and  they  took 
with  them  great  loads  of  each  thing  that  pleased  them 
best  of  all  that  was  within  in  the  king's  storehouse. 

But  tlio  king's  people  missed  Uie  butter  and  the 
cheese  and  the  other  things  that  had  been  taken  out 
of  the  storehouse,  and  they  told  tlie  king  how  it  had 
happened 

The  king  took  the  counsel  of  the  Seanagal  about 
the  bent  way  of  catching  the  Uiieves  and  the  counsel 


THS  TALI  OF  THB  BHIFTT  LAD.  33  I 

thai  the  Seanagal  gare  them  was  that  they  ahoold  set 
a  hogshead  of  soft  pitch  under  the  hole  where  they  were 
ooming  in.  That  was  done,  and  the  next  night  the 
Shifty  Lad  and  his  master  went  to  hreakinto  theking*s 
storehouse. 

•  The  Shifty  Lad  put  his  master  in  before  him,  and 
the  master  went  down  into  the  soft  pitch  to  his  very 
middle,  and  he  could  not  get  out  again.  The  Shifty 
Lad  went  down,  and  he  put  a  foot  on  each  of  his  mas- 
ter's shoulders,  and  he  put  out  two  loads  of  the  king^s 
butter  and  of  the  choeso  at  the  hole;  and  at  the 
last  time,  when  he  was  ooming  out^  he  swept  the  head 
off  hÌB  master,  and  he  took  the  head  with  him^  and  he 
left  the  trunk  in  the  hogshead  of  pitch,  and  he  went 
home  with  the  butter  and  with  the  cheese,  and  he  tocdi 
home  the  head,  and  he  buried  it  in  the  garden. 

When  the  king^s  people  went  into  the  storehouse, 
they  found  a  body  without  a  head  in  the  hogshead  of 
pitch ;  but  they  could  not  make  out  who  it  was.  They 
tried  if  they  could  find  any  one  at  all  that  could  know 
him  by  the  clothes,  but  his  clothes  were  covered  with 
pitch  so  that  they  could  not  make  him  out  The  king 
asked  the  counsel  of  the  Seanagal  about  it ;  and  the 
counsel  that  the  Seanagal  gave  was,  that  they  should 
set  the  trunk  aloft  on  the  points  of  the  spears  of  the 
soldiers,  to  be  carried  from  town  to  town,  to  see  if  they 
could  find  any  one  at  all  that  would  take  sorrow  for  it; 
or  to  try  if  they  could  hear  any  one  thai  would  make 
a  painful  cry  when  they  should  see  it;  or  if  they 
should  not  see  (one  crying)  one  that  should  seem  about 
to  make  a  painful  cry  when  the  soldiers  should  be  go- 
ing past  with  it  The  body  was  taken  out  of  the  hogs- 
head of  pitch,  and  set  on  the  points  of  the  spears ;  and 
the  soldiers  were  bearing  it  aloft  on  the  points  of  their 
long  wooden  spearai  and  they  were  going  from  town  to 


53'  VIBT  mOHLAHD  TALBL 

town  with  it;  and  when  they  were  going  past  the  honae 
of  the  Wright^  the  wright'a  wife  made  a  tortured  acream, 
and  swift  the  Shiftj  Lad  cat  himself  with  the  adse  ; 
and  he  kept  saying  to  the  wright'a  wife,  ''  The  cat  is 
not  so  bad  as  thoa  thinkesf* 

The  oommander-in-chie^  and  his  lot  of  soldiers, 
came  in  and  they  asked, 

**  What  ailed  the  hoasewife  r 

Said  the  Shifty  Lad,  '<  It  is  that  I  have  jost  cat 
my  foot  with  the  adze,  and  she  is  afinid  of  blood;*'  and 
he  woold  say  to  the  wife  of  the  wright,  **  Do  not  be  so 
^      mach  afraid ;  it  will  heal  sooner  than  thou  thinkest** 

The  soldiers  thoaght  that  the  Shifty  Lad  was  the 
wright,  and  that  the  wife  whom  they  had  was  the  wife 
of  the  Shifty  Lad  ;  and  they  went  oat^  and  they  went 
f^m  town  to  town ;  but  they  found  no  one  besides, 
but  the  wife  of  the  wright  herself  that  made  cry  or 
scream  when  they  were  coming  past  her. 

They  took  the  body  home  to  the  king's  house ; 
and  the  king  took  another  counsel  from  his  Seanagal, 
and  that  was  to  hang  the  body  to  a  tree  in  an  open 
place,  and  soldiers  to  watch  it  that  none  should  take  it 
away,  and  the  soldiers  to  be  looking  if  any  should 
^     come  the  way  that  should  take  pity  or  grief  for  it 

The  Shifly  Lad  came  past  them,  and  he  saw  them ; 
he  went  and  he  got  a  horse,  and  he  put  a  keg  of  whisky 
on  each  side  of  the  horse  in  a  sack,  and  he  went  past 
the  soldiers  with  it,  as  though  he  were  hiding  from  them. 
The  soldiers  thought  that  it  was  so,  that  he  had  taken 
something  away  from  them,  or  that  he  had-something 
which  ho  ouglit  not  to  have ;  and  some  of  them  ran  after 
him  and  they  caught  the  old  horse  and  the  wliisky ;  but 
the  Shifty  Lad  fled,  and  he  left  the  old  horse  and  the 
whisky  with  them.  The  soldiers  took  tlie  horse  and 
the  kegs  of  whisky  back  to  where  the  body  was  hang- 


THB  TAUI  OF  THB  SHlfTY  LAD.  33$ 

ÌDg  against  the  mast  Thej  looked  what  waa  in  the 
kegs  ;  and  when  they  understood  that  it  was  whisky 
thi^  was  in  them,  they  got  a  drinking  cap,  and  they 
began  drinking  until  at  last  erery  one  of  them  was 
drunk,  and  they  lay  and  they  slept  When  the  Shifty 
Lad  saw  that^  that  the  soldiers  were  laid  down  and 
asleep  and  drunk,  he  returned  and  he  took  the  body 
off  the  mast  He  set  it  crosswise  on  the  horse's  back, 
and  he  took  it  home ;  then  he  went  and  he  buried 
the  body  in  the  garden  where  the  head  was.  ^^^ 

When  the  soldiers  awoke  out  of  their  sleep,  the 
body  was  stolen  away ;  they  had  for  it  but  to  go  and 
tell  it  to  the  king.  Then  the  king  took  the  counsel  of 
the  Seanagal ;  and  the  Seanagal  said  to  them,  all  that 
were  in  his  presence,  that  his  counsel  to  them  was,  to 
take  out  a  great  black  pig  that  was  there,  and  that 
they  should  go  with  her  from  town  to  town;  and  when 
they  should  come  to  any  place  where  the  body  was 
buried,  that  she  would  root  it  up.  They  went  and 
they  got  the  black  pig,  and  they  were  going  from  farm 
to  fam  with  her,  trying  if  they  could  find  out  where 
the  body  was  buried.  They  went  from  house  to  house 
with  her  till  at  last  they  came  to  the  house  where  the 
Shifty  Lad  and  the  wright's  widow  were  dwelling. 
When  they  arrived  they  let  the  pig  loose  about  the 
grounds.  The  Shifty  Lad  said  that  he  himself  wss  sure 
that  thirst  and  hunger  was  on  them ;  that  they  had 
better  go  into  tlie  house  and  that  they  would  get  meat 
and  drink ;  and  that  they  should  let  their  weariness 
from  off  them,  in  the  time  when  the  pig  should  be 
seeking  about  his  placa 

They  went  in,  and  the  Shifty  Lad  asked  the 
Wright's  widow  that  she  should  set  meat  and  drink  be- 
fore the  men.  The  widow  of  the  wright  set  meat  and 
drink  on  the  board,  and  aha  set  it  before  them ;  andL 


334  WBT  HiSHLAHD 


; 


m  Ùm  UmbwbDB  ibej  wm  mtìaag  fliflir  mmà,  As 
Shifif  Lid  wvnt  out  to  aee  after  tiis  pig;  md  tbe  pig 
kKÌ  jufli  ha  upon  the  bodj  in  tbe  gnden ;  tmi  tarn 
Shiftj  Lad  went  and  lie  got  e  great  kniib  and  be  ent 
the  head  off  her,  and  he  boried  hoadf  and  her  head 
heaide  theÌMdj  of  thewri^it  in  the  garden. 

When  thoee  who  had  the  care  of  the  pig  earns  cnÈ^ 
Ae  pig  was  not  to  be  aeen.  Thej  aaked  the  Shiftf 
Lad  if  he  had  aeen  her;  he  aaid  that  he  had  aeen 
(herX  that  her  head  waa  op  and  ahe  waa  looking  np> 
warda»  and  going  two  or  three  atepe  now  and  again  ; 
and  thej  went  with  great  haate  to  the  aide  where  ths 
Shiftj  Lad  laid  that  the  pig  had  gona 

When  the  Shiftj  Lad  fimnd  that  tiiej  had  ginia 
oot  of  sight,  he  set  eTsrjthing  in  aoch  away  that  they 
ahonld  not  hit  upon  the  pig.  They  aa  whom  the  care  of 
the  pig  waa  laid  went  and  they  aooght  her  ereiy  way 
that  it  waa  likely  ahe  mfght  be.  Then  when  they 
eoold  not  find  her,  they  had  for  it  bat  to  go  to  the 
king's  bouse  and  tell  bow  it  bad  happened. 

Then  the  counsel  of  the  Seanagal  waa  taken  again ; 
and  the  counsel  that  the  Seanagal  gare  them  waa, 
that  they  should  set  their  soldieia  oat  about  the 
country  at  free  quarters  ;  and  at  whatsoerer  place  they 
sboul<l  get  pig's  flesh,  or  in  whataoerer  place  they  shoold 
see  pig's  flesh,  unless  those  people  could  shew  how 
they  had  got  the  pig's  flesh  that  they  might  ba^e,  that 
those  were  the  people  who  killed  the  pig;  and  that  had 
done  every  evil  that  bad  been  done. 

The  counsel  of  the  Seanagal  waa  taken,  and  the 
soldiers  sent  out  to  free  quarters  about  the  coantry ; 
and  there  was  a  band  of  them  in  the  house  of  the 
Wright's  widow  where  the  Shifty  Lad  was.  The 
Wright's  widow  gave  their  supper  to  the  soldiers,  and 
some  of  the  pig's  flesh  was  made  ready  for  them  ;  and 


THB  TALI  OF  THB  BHIfTT  LAa  335 

the  soldiers  were  eating  the  pigfs  flesh,  and  praising  it 
exceedingly.  The  Shifty  Lad  understood  what  was  the 
matter,  hat  he  did  not  let  on.  The  soldiers  were  set 
to  lie  oat  in  the  ham ;  and  when  they  were  asleep  the 
Shifty  Lad  went  out  and  he  killed  them.  Then  he 
went  as  fast  as  he  coald  from  house  to  house,  whore 
the  soldiers  were  at  free  quarters,  and  he  set  the 
rumour  afloat^  amongst  the  people  of  the  houses,  that 
the  soldiers  had  heen  sent  out  ahout  the  country  to  rise 
in  the  night  and  kill  the  people  in  their  heds ;  and  he 
found  (means)  to  make  the  people  of  the  country  helieve 
him,  so  that  the  people  of  each  house  killed  all  the  sol- 
diers that  were  asleep  in  their  hams  ;  and  when  the  sol- 
diers did  not  come  home  at  the  time  they  should,  some 
went  to  see  what  had  happened  to  them  ;  and  when  they 
arrived,  it  was  so  that  they  found  the  soldiers  dead  in 
the  hams  where  they  had  been  asleep  ;  and  the  people 
of  each  house  denied  that  they  knew  how  the  soldiers 
had  been  put  to  death,  or  who  bad  done  it 

The  people  who  were  at  the  ransacking  for  the  sol- 
diers, went  to  the  king^s  house,  and  they  told  how  it 
had  happened  ;  then  the  king  sent  word  for  the  Seana- 
gal  to  get  counsel  from  him  ;  the  Seanagal  came,  and 
the  king  told  how  it  had  happened,  and  the  king  asked 
counsel  from  him.  This  is  the  counsel  that  the  Seana- 
gal gare  the  king,  that  he  should  make  a  feast  and 
a  ball,  and  invite  the  people  of  the  country  ;  and  if 
the  man  who  did  the  evil  Àould  be  there,  that  he  was 
the  man  who  would  be  the  boldest  who  would  be  there, 
and  that  he  would  ask  the  king^s  daughter  herself  to 
dance  with  him.  The  people  were  asked  to  the  feast 
and  the  dance  ;  and  amongst  the  rest  the  Shifky  Lad 
was  aaked.     The  people  came  to  the  feast,  and  amongst 

•  CoirtaceiL 


3j6  ìva0HiiaLua> 


tÌM  THi  onae  tìM  Shìftsr  Lid.  When  flie  fetai  was 
pMt|  tìie  duioe  ÌMgui;  md  tbe  Shìfìy  I^d  want  #»<i 
he  Mkod  iàm  king's  dsnghtar  to  danoe  with  him  ;  md 
the  Saani^  hsd  aTÌslfìiIl  of  bbck  stof;  and  the 
8eanagal  put  a  Uack  dot  of  the  stuff  that  was  in  th^ 
▼ial  on  the  Shifty  Lad.  But  it  seemed  to  the  kin^s 
danghter  that  ha  hair  was  not  well  enough  in  order, 
and  flhe  went  to  a  side  rhsmhw  to  put  it  right ;  and 
tiie  Shifty  Lad  went  in  with  her ;  and  when  ahe  looked 
in  the  ghisB,  he  also  looked  in  it^  and  he  saw  the  Uack 
dot  that  the  Beanagal  had  pint  upon  him.  When  they 
had  danoed  till  the  tone  of  music  was  finished,  the 
Shifty  Lad  went  and  he  got  a  chance  to  steal  the  vial 
of  the  SeaTM^l  from  him  unknown  to  him,  and  he  put 
two  Uack  dots  on  the  Sesni^,  and  one  Uack  dot 
on  twenty  other  men  heside^  and  he  put  tìie  vial  hack 
i^gain  where  he  found  it. 

Between  that  and  the  end  of  another  whfle^  the 
Shifty  Lad  came  again  and  he  asked  the  king's  daugh* 
ter  to  dance.  Ihe  king*8  daughter  had  a  yial  also,  and 
she  put  a  Uack  dot  on  the  face  of  the  Shifty  Lad ;  but 
the  Shifty  Lad  got  the  yial  whipped  out  of  her  pockety 
unknown  to  her  ;  and  since  there  were  two  Uack  dots 
on  him,  he  put  two  dots  on  twenty  other  men  in 
the  company,  and  four  Uack  dots  on  the  SeanagaL 
Then  when  the  dancing  was  oyer,  some  were  sent  to 
see  who  was  the  man  on  whom  were  the  two  black 
dots.  When  they  looked  amongst  the  people,  they 
fouud  twenty  men  on  whom  there  were  two  black  dots, 
and  there  were  four  black  dots  on  the  Seanagal ;  and 
the  Shifty  Lad  found  (means)  to  go  swiftly  where  the 
king's  dauglitor  was,  and  to  slip  the  yial  back  again 
into  her  pocket  The*  Seanagal  looked  and  he  had  hia 
black  yial ;  the  king's  daughter  looked  and  she  had 
her  own  yial ;  then  the  Seanagal  and  the  king  took 


THE  TALI  OF  THB  8HIÌTT  LAD.        537 

ooonsel ;  and  Uie  last  counsel  thai  Uiey  made  was  thai 
the  king  should  come  to  the  company,  and  say^  that 
the  man  who  had  done  eveij  trick  that  had  been  done, 
must  be  exceedingly  clever  ;  if  he  would  come  forward 
and  give  himself  up,  that  he  should  get  the  king's 
daughter  to  marry,  and  the  one  half  of  the  kingdom 
while  the  king  was  alive,  and  the  whole  of  the  king- 
dom after  the  king's  death.  And  every  one  of  those 
who  had  the  two  black  dots  on  their  faces  came 
and  they  said  that  it  was  they  who  had  done  every 
cleverness  that  had  been  done.  Then  the  king  and 
his  high  council  wont  to  try  how  the  matter  should 
be  settled ;  and  the  matter  which  they  settled  was, 
that  all  tlie  men  who  had  the  two  black  dots  on 
their  faces  should  be  put  together  in  a  chamber,  and 
they  were  to  get  a  child,  and  the  king^s  daughter  was 
to  give  an  apple  to  the  chUd,  and  the  child  was  to  be 
put  in  where  the  men  with  the  two  black  dots  on  their 
faces  were  seated ;  and  to  whatsoever  one  the  child 
should  give  the  apple,  that  was  the  one  who  was  to 
get  the  king's  daughter. 

That  was  done,  and  when  the  child  went  into  the 
chamber  in  which  the  men  were,  the  Shifty  Lad  had 
a  shaving  and  a  drone  (siiseag  us  dranndanX  and  the 
child  went  and  gave  him  the  apple.  Then  the  shav- 
ing and  the  drone  were  taken  from  the  Shifty  Lad, 
and  he  was  seated  in  another  place,  and  the  apple 
was  given  to » the  child  again  ;  and  he  was  taken  out 
of  the  chamber,  and  sent  in  again  to  see  to  whom 
he  would  give  the  apple;  and  since  the  Shifty  Lad 
had  the  shaving  and  the  drone  before,  the  child  went 
where  he  was  again,  and  he  gave  him  the  apple. 
Then  the  Shifty  Lad  got  the  king's  daughter  to  marry. 

And  shortly  after  that  the  k^g^s  daughter  and  the 
Shifty  Lad  were  taking  a  walk  to  Bails  Cliabh ;  and 

s 


SS8  ▼m  HIGBLAND  TALU. 

when  they  ^rere  going  over  the  bridge  of  Baile  Cliabh, 
the  Shifty  Lad  asked  the  king^s  daughter  what  was 
the  name  of  that  place ;  and  the  kingf  a  daughter  told 
him  that  it  was  the  bridge  of  Baile  Cliabh|  in  Eirinn ; 
and  the  Shifty  Lad  said — 

''  Well  then,  many  is  the  time  that  my  mother 
said  to  me,  that  my  end  would  be  to  be  hanged  at  the 
bridge  of  Baile  Cliabli,  in  Eirinn  ;  and  she  made  me 
that  prophecy  many  a  time  when  I  might  play  her  a 
trick" 

And  the  kingfs  daughter  said,  ''Well  then,  if 
thou  thyself  shouldst  choose  to  hang  over  the  little 
side  (wall)  of  the  bridge,  I  will  hold  thee  aloft  a  little 
space  with  my  pocket  napkin.** 

And  ihey  were  at  talk  and  ftm  about  it ;  but  at 
last  it  seemed  to  the  Shifty  Lad  that  he  would  do  it  for 
sporti  and  the  king^s  daughter  took  out  her  pocket 
napkin,  and  the  Shifty  Lad  wont  over  the  bridge,  and 
he  hung  by  the  pocket  napkin  of  tlie  king's  daugh- 
ter, as  she  let  it  over  the  little  side  (waU)  of  the 
bridge,  and  they  were  laugliing  to  each  other. 

But  the  king's  daughter  heard  a  cry,  ''  The  king's 
castle  is  going  on  fire  ! "  and  she  started,  and  she 
lost  her  hold  of  the  napkin  ;  and  the  Shifty  Lad  fell 
do>vn,  and  his  head  struck  against  a  stone,  and  the 
brain  went  out  of  him ;  and  there  wasjn^thecry  but 
the  sport  of  children  ;  and  'the  king|8_daughter  was 
obliged  to  go  home  a  \vidow. 


SOEULACHD  A  QIIILLE  CHARAICH  MAC  NA  BANTRACH. 

Bka  nair  clgclnn  ann  roimh  lo  Bantrach,  agut  bha  aona  mbao  alo. 
Thag  i  d  b  tgoll  mbath,  agbs  bha  i  bot  gu  *q  tagbadh  e  cealrd  air  a 
•bon  fein,  ach  thubliairt  esan,  nacb  racbadb  c  a  db*  ioonsaidb  ealdb- 
ain  air  bith,  ach  gn  'in  bitbeadb  e  na  mbearlacb. 


A  OHILLK  CHARAICH  MAO  NA  BANTRAOH.  339 

Thabhairt  a  mhathair  ria,  «  Ma  It  è  tin  an  MMhain  a  tha  tha  a  dot 
a  thaghadh  dhait  fein,  is  e  is  deireadb  dhuit,  a  bhi  air  do  chrocliadh 
alg  drochaid  Bhaile-cHabh  an  Eirinn.**  Ach  bn  ehoma  eb  dhaibh,  cha 
raehadh  csan  gv  aaldhain  air  blth,  ach  gv  a  bhith  ann  na  mltaarlach. 
Afos  bhithaadh  a  mhathair  daonnan  a  dsanamh  fhÌaÌBnaaehd  d  h, 
gn  *m  •  bn  daireadh  dhhaan  a  bhith  air  a  ehroehadh  alg  droehaM 
Bbailt^iabh  an  Eirinn.  Latha  do  na  laithtanan  bha  a  Bhantrach 
a  dot  do  *n  aaglaia,  a  dh  aisdtaebd  saarmoin,  agnt  bha  1  ag  iarraidh 
air  a'  ghille-cliarrach  a  mae  a  a  dhol  laatha,  *8  a  a  thoirt  thairia  do  a 
dhroch  stihirsanan,  ach  cha  radiadh  a  laatha,  ach  thvirt  a  rithe. 
**  la  a  a  chiad  ealdhain  air  an  doinn  thoaa  lomradh,  an  daigh  dhvit 
tighina  a  mach  o  *n  t-aaarmoin,  an  aaldhaid  gu  's  an  taid  nisa  a 
rithia.** 

Dh  fhalbh  iat  do  *h  aagtaia,  *8  i  Ikn  misnich  an  dhil  gh  *n  clninn- 
aadh  i  md-aiginn  malli.  Dh  fhalbh  eatan  *8  chaidh  a  do  bhad  coillt, 
a  bha  dlbth  do  *n  aaglaia,  *9  chaidh  a  *m  fallach  ann  an  Ufa  fhr  am 
folcaadh  a  a  mhathair,  a  nuair  a  tliigaadh  i  a  mach  at  an  aaglalt. 
Agvs  eho  loath  is  a  thainlg  i  a  mach,  ghlaodh  csan;  "llèlrla^  meiriok 
mèirla.**  Sheall  Isa  ma*n  coairt,  ach  cha  b*  orrainn  di  aitbnaaefaadh  da 
aa  a  bha  *n  gvth  a  tighinn,  *§  dh  fhalbh  i  dachaidh.  Roith  csan  rathad 
alh-ghiorra,  's  bha  a  aig  sn  tigh  air  thoiseach  oirrs^  *a  bha  a  na  shvidh 
a  a  stiith  taobh  an  tcine  tra  a  tliainig  i  dachakilL  Dh  fbarraid  a  di, 
da-dtf  an  sgeul  a  fhnair  i  7  Thabhairt  iaa,  nach  d-fhnair  i  sgtal  air 
blth,  ach  gn  'm  b*a  mèirla,  mèirle,  mèirla,  a*  chiad  chainni  a  chaal'  i 
tra  thainlg  i  a  mach  as  an  eaglais.  Thabhairt  csan,  gn  *ro  b*a  sin  an 
aaldhainn  a  bhithaadh  aigaaaan,  s  thabhairt  iaa  mar  a  b*  hbhaiai  di 
aghradh.  **  Is  e  is  dcireadh  dhait  a  bhith  air  do  ehroehadh  alg  droch- 
aid Bhaila-cliabh  an  Kirinn.**  An  ath  latha  smnaintieh  a  mhathair, 
fhnn  nach  daanadh  ni  air  blth  tallla  gnothach  la  a  mac,  ach  a  a  bhith 
ann  na  mhMrlach,  gn  *m  fìeiicliadh  i  ri  oida-lonnsaich  math  fhaotnlnn 
dh.  Agus  chaidb  i  a  dh  lonnsaldh  gadaidia  dnbh  AchalMoa,  mairl- 
aach  anbharra  saolta,  a  bha  ann  'tan  hits  sin.  Agns  gad  a  bha  Aoa 
aca  gn  *n  robh  a  ri  gold,  cha  robh  lad  a  fhotvina  doigh  air  blth 
air  bdrcachd  air.  Dh*  fharraid  a*  bhantrach  do  *n  ghadaicha  dhnbh 
an  gabhadh  a  an  gllla-carraeh  a  mae  gna  a  ghadacbd  ioan«achadh 
dha.  Thabhairt  an  gadaicha  dobh,  ma  bha  a  'na  ghilla  tapaidh  gn  "to 
gabhadh,  agns  ma  bha  doigh  air  roèirleaeh  a  dhaaaamh  dhath,  gn 
*n  daanadh  asan  e,  sgns  chaidh  cnmhnant  a  dheanamh  aadar  an 
gadaicha  dnbh,  a  *s  an  gilla-carradi.  Tra  bha  an  gilla-carrach  mae  na 
bantraich  a  deanamh  dais  gn  dol  chnn  a*  ghadaicfaa  dhoibh,  bha  a 
mhathair  a  tdrt  chomhalrleaa  air,  agna  thairt  i  ria.  **  Is  ann  an 
aghaidh  mo  thoil-aa  a  tha  tha  a'  dol  thm  na  mèirla,  agna  Urn  ml  ag 


54^  WBCr  HMBLAVD  TAUSw 


ft  Uudi  air  do  AnAaàh  tig 
Aek  Cktiik  n  gflit  camdi 

I  a  tiMttiit  M  1h«at  fBfUoi  a  dh  fhaoditdh 
laAMaasMk.  Bliittaadk  •  ag ianta 
•dh  a  a  ilkiiaainih,  fw  an 
radaj^lMid.  Agw  tn  Uut  lab  a' gbadaielia 
fa  ^  raUi  aa  gilh  aaitack  gU  adMth  air  fhafchlnnf  ga  •  ft 
Udch  air  a  tlNirt  a  aMMà  WK  MiHiinih  a  ga  tlarfit  a  audi  tola  gn 
giM  a  dlHaanak.  Agw  kdM  do  aa  laUktaa  aim  Uiabhaiit  an  gad- 
dabk,  ri  a  gUOa. 

as  glofkada  Marai^  to  flMidardaiaa  dol  a  dhoanamh 
tka  taatlMiaacfc  boaitadi  dlktli  dkaina,  agw  tha  monui 
aitgid  aiga  *Ba  cUalo,  to  a  a  ckaaBBaiek  aa  Uut  do  duodh  rl  rok  ano 
*aMi  datludòk,  agut  tlMig  a  ckaa  aa  fiddldr  tod,  *•  diicfe  a  tod,  tha  aa 
t-air«tod  aiga  "aa  oktoto^  agat  *in  ao  aa  i-aa  ga  thith  aig%  ma'a  taid 
aa  daMÌataplnidlialrai«aaca[ddcraidk,a«MrtaidaÌBBadhiair- 
aidk  aa  aligtod  aa  OMTt-aalr,  tn  a  tba  a  craiBB  ri  oboitob  dia  *B  fhaigh 
aiaaaa  ooca»  cbdalaa  a  ritkto.* 

BhaaagiUa-eairaclidMtaitoadirtofeia.  Dh  fhalbh  tod  dnm  aa 
taigli*atfbaairtoda  Midi  aig  ti^daa  aa  k-aidhdM^  agai  ehaidh  tod 
aa  aird  air  aa  fbaradh,  *9  dkaidh  tod  aai  fiUtoch  ga  b-krd  ann  an  ain. 
Agia  is  è  oidbcbo  ahaakhaadh  a  bha  *nn,  agus  chruinnich  mòran  do 
fbeodluinn  a  ftigli  a  ghtoidlioadb  aa  umhoinn  gu  crtdbeil  mar  a  b* 
abhaist  doibh.  Sbaidh  tod  ooaahto,  agaa  bha  iad  a  seinn  oran,  a  't 
ri  aigboar,  agnt  a*  loagadh  nan  cab,*  agoa  ri  abhachd. 

Bha  an  fnllo-earrach  a  gabbail  Cidail  nach  robh  a  chnidaachd  a 
Of^oileadb,  dh*eirkh  •  *•  ehaidh  •  aioa  do*a  bhàthaich,  *9  dh  fhaaagail  a 


*  One  of  the  amutooMoU  which  highland  peopto  naed  to  entar- 
tain  themaolTea  with,  ia  what  thoj  call  burning  nuta  on  hallow-OTe, 
the  last  night  of  October.  A  party  of  fi»ung  peopto  would  collect  to- 
gether in  one  bonae  for  to  nuke  merry ;  one  of  tlieir  amuaementa  waa, 
they  would  propoee  a  marriage  between  aome  tod  and  laaa,  and  they 
would  name  a  nut  (or  each  of  them.  The  two  nuta  would  be  placed 
beaide  each  other  in  the  fire.  If  tha  two  nuta  burned  together,  and 
biased  over  each  other,  tliat  waa  oaltod  a  good  omen ;  It  waa  a  aign 
ttiat  the  party  for  whom  the  nuta  waa  named  were  to  be  married 
yet,  and  live  liappy  together ;  but  if  either  of  tha  aula  puffed,  or  flaw 
away,  that  waa  a  aign  that  the  person  for  whom  that  nut  waa  named 
was  proud,  and  would  not  accept  of  the  otl:cr  party. 


A  OHILLB  CHARAIOH  MAO  KA  BAHTRACH.  34I 

na  nmiag  tkr  amhaiehean  aehniidh,  '■  thÌUt  *tehaidli  •  air  in  fbaradh 
a  rithii.  ThbUieh  an  crodh  air  purradh  a  cbeile  aiui  *ta  bbaibaicb, 
*•  air  raoioeadh,  midh  na  bba  ann  sa  cbeamadb,  a  cbumail  a*cbniidh 
o  *dMÌla  gvt  an  racbadb  an  eeanj^  a  ritbÌA.  An  tiom  a  bba  iadMn 
a  daanamb  tin,  ehaidb  an  gille-cameb  sioi  do  *n  cbeanuulh,  *§  gbobi 
•  leto  na  cno  *n,  *§  ebaidb  •  an  bird  air  an  fbaradb  a  ritbitd,  agna 
Inidb  e  air  cblamb  a  gliadaieba  dhoibb. 

Bba  MÌcba  mbbr  laatliraidi  aig  cblamb  a  gbadaich*  dbnibh,  '§ 
bba  natbad  agna  tnatbalnn  aig  a  gbillf •cbarraeb  agns  db  fbvaigb  e 
tooall  ebU  a  gbadaleba  dbnibb,  ria  an  t-ttlcht  laatbraicb  a  bba 
alg  a  ebblamb,  agoa  tra  tbainig  mninntlr  an  taigba  air  an  aia  do  *b 
ebaamadb  a  ritbiad,  bba  na  cno  *n  aoa  air  fiUbb,  agna  bba  lad  ag 
larraidb  nan  cno  *n,  agnaabaoU  lad  gn  *n  b*e  caidtlginn  a  tbalniie  a 
atigb  a  dbaanamb  cbloaa  orra,  a  tbng  air  falbb  aa  cno  Vi,  agnaabablb 
lad  alg  taobb  an  tdna  gn  tbrnbacb  toadacb. 

Tbnbbairt  an  gilla-carraeb  ria  a  gbadaleba  dbnbb,  **  Caaealdb  mi 
cno." 

*  Cba  cbnac,  tbuirt  aa  gadaiebe-dnbb,  ddnaldb  iad  tha  'a  thtid 
baiivacbd  oimn. 

"  Tbubbairt  an  gllla-carracb,  cba  robb  mi-fein  riamb  roimb  oldh- 
cba  abarobnadb  gu  'n  cbnb  a  cbnacadb.**    Agoa  cbnaebd  e  te. 

Cboala  aa  fbeadbainn  a  bba  'nan  auidba  *a  acbaarnadb  9,  *a  tbubb- 
airt lad,  *  Tba  cnkl-ciginn  gv  b-ard  air  an  fbaradb,  a  caaeadb  nan 
cab  *n  again,  tbald  ainn  agns  beirldb  alnn  orrm.** 

Tra  cboala  an  gadaieba  dnbb  ain,  lanm  a  Cur  an  fbaraidb,  *■  raitb 
a  a  Riacb,  *a  an  t-aviclia  an  ilaodadb  ria.  Tbaicb  an  gadaicha-dabb  *8 
mninntlr  an  taigba  aa  a  dbainb,  *a  bba  a  aatar  nior  o*n  tigb  nui'n  d* 
fhuairaan  t-aeicbaar8Qbadbdetbagnaafb|:aiL  Acb  an  tlon  a  bba 
molnntir  an  taigba  a  mitb  a  gbadalcbo-dbnibb,  tbainig  an  glUa-carr- 
aeb  a  nnaa  fbr  an  fbaraidli,  diaidb a  air  Ibadb  an  taigba^  db*  amaiaa 
air  a  cbltta  fiir  an  robb  an  t-br  *■  an  t-alrgiod  alg  an  tnatbinachna 
gblaidhaadb  db  (bongail  a  a  cblaU,  '■  tbog  a  a  maeb  alata  na  boilg  ann 
Van  robb  an  t-airglod  a  bba  Inntc^  agna  tbog  a  inula,  agua  tbng  a  laia 
aallach do Vi  aran  *ado*n  )m *ado*n cbbba,  a*a dona  b-olk ià  a  b*fliaarr 
na  cballa  a  fbnalr  a  a  itlgb.  Agna  bba  aaan  air  falbb,  ma  *n  d*  tbaiulg 
mninntlr  an  taigba  air  an  ali  o  bbltb  a  niltb  a  gbadaleba  dbaibb. 

Naair  a  ralnig  an  gadakha-dnbb  dacbaidb,  *a  nacb  rol>h  n\  air 
bitb  alga,  tbnbbairt  a  bbaan  ria,  "cia-mar  a  cbaldb  Ibinlcaebadb  ort 
air  an  tnruato?** 

An  dn  ^h  Innto  an  gadalcbe-dobb  a  •gvul  fèin,  agui  bba  fearg 
■Mr  air  rk  a  gbilla-diarnicb,  *aa  a  boidaacbadb,  gn  *n  doaaadb  a  dioltaa 
tra  gbdbbaadb  a  coram  air.    Aig  ecaan  ulna  gboirid  na  dbaigb  aia 


S4« 


•  a  — I  •amwaii  lei^licaiccj 

htfdraMMÌkirn.Bw'BraicvMtàglilkiahaad?**  TliabliAiit  in 
gmaahrhn  dabb,  *  Onridk  mi  f?mU  ciad  Msrg  aadi  amiBB  diiil«  da- 
ft gÌMÌdcAdk  ta  aa  rad  a  tba  air  a  dkrana  P 
**  Gm  air  bbith  mar  a  ai  mi  a  fcacliiklh  ma  ri^**  oraa  an  giUa- 


*Ma  te  aw  a\  tka  a,  tkaiit  aa  gadaiebe  dabh,  bhair  mÌM  dbvit 
aurg.**  "  U  baigaia  %*  oraa  aa  gille  carracb,  a*t  la  sn  db  fludbb 

•  aa  deigb  a  bbaarbiilWi,  Bba  aig  a  bbaacbaiHa  ri  dol  troinb  cboilk^ 
agai  gbabb  aa  giUa  carracb  fiifba-tilmhiinta  air,  gatga'a  d*  flioair 

•  air  thoiteacb  air,  agai  ihaliich  e  *Ba  bbròig;  *•  cbair  •  a  bbròg  air 
aa  ratbad  air  ihoimacb  air  a  bhaacbiiìli^  *■  cbaidb  •  idn  am  fidl- 
adL  An  aair  a  Uiainig  am  boacbaille  air  agbaidb,  a't  a  ^annaic  e  a 
bbròg  tbabbairt  e,  "  Acb  tba  tba  mlacb  '•  gad  do  tbb,  aa  *m  bitb- 
cadb  do  leth-bbreac  ana  ghlanainn  tba,**  *•  cbaidb  e  macbad. 

Thog  an  gilla  carracb  a*  bbròg,  '•  niidb  a  bm  *a  caairt,  *■  bba  e  air 
thoiaeacfa  air  a'  bboadiaille,  *•  cbair  a  bbròg  eilo  air  an  ratbad  air 
thoiaeacb  air.  Tbubhairt  a  ria  fbein,  **  acb  tba  aon  an  tin  letbbbreae 
na  bròij;  •  Mladie." 

Cbuir  e  am  molt  air  làr,  agas  tbabbairt  a  rit-fein,  **  TllUdb  ml  an 
nil  '■  gbeibh  mi  a  bhrog  fthalacb,  *■  gUoaidb  mi  i,  *■  bitbtdb  da  bbroig 
mhatb  agam  air  aon  mo  abaoireacb,**  *a  niitb  e  gu  Inatb  air  aia.  Baitb 


A  OHILLB  OBARAIOH  ICAO  NA  bANTBAOH.  343 

in  giU^-cftmicb  gu  loath  *•  ghoid  e  Icit  am  molt,  *■  thog  e  kb  as  in  da 
bbroig.  *i  chakih  t  dachaidh  ehim  a  mbaighistir,  1  fbvair  •  a  cfaiad  marf 
o  a  mhaigbiitir. 

Cbaidh  am  boaebaillf  dachaidh,  *§  dh'  innb  e  do  a  mhaighlitlr 
fein  mar  a  thaebair  dh.  Throid  a  mhaighittir  rii  a  bhoachaiUe.  An 
ath  latha  chair  an  toathanach  a  rithit  rii  a  rohonadh  e  a  dh-iarraldh 
eirionnach  an  hitc  a  mhnilC  a  ehaill  e.  Dh  fhaibh  am  biuchaillo  ria  a 
mhonadh,  *§  fhoair  a  greim  air  eirionnach,  dieangail  le  e,  chair  a  air 
a  dhrnim  9,  *a  dh-fhalbb  a  gu  dot  dadialdb  laia.  Channaic  an  gilk- 
carrach  a,  *a  chaidh  e  do*n  choille,  *■  bha  e  an  ain  air  thoiaeach  air  a 
bhnachaill^,  *8  chaidh  e  am  falach,  *i  thòiaich  e  air  mèliich  eoltach 
ria  a*  mhoH.  ShaoU  am  boacbailla  ga  *m  b*e  am  molt  a  bha  ana,  *9 
chair  a  dcth  an  t-elrionnacb,  'a  dh  fhhg  m  alg  taobh  an  rathaid  %  li 
chaidh  a  a  dh  iarraidh  a  mhoilt  An  tiom  a  bha  am  boaehailla  ag 
iarraidh  a'  mhoilt*  chaidh  an  gilla  carraeh  *a  ghoid  a  laia  an  t-alr- 
ionnach,  *a  dh  fhhg  m  alg  taobh  an  rathaid  a,  *a  chaidh  a  daehaidb 
lai«  chun  a,  ghadalche  dhuibiL  Tra  chaidh  am  boacliailla  air  aia  ftir 
an  d  fhhg  €  an  t-alrfonnacb,  bha  an  t>eirionnach  air  falbh,  cha  robh 
an  t-«irionnach  ann,  dh  burr  e  air  ton  an  eirionnach  ann.  Dh  larr  a  air 
aon  an  drionnacli,  'a  a  noair  nach  b*arralnn  d*a  an  t^rionnach  fhaoi- 
oinn,  cliaidh  e  dachaidh  '9  dh  innia  •  do  a  mhaighiatir  mar  a  dh  airkfa 
d*  h,  agoa  throid  a  mhaighittir  rii,  ach  cha  robh  oomaa  air.  An  ath 
latha  dh  larr  an  toathanach  air  a  bhnaehailla  alga,  a  a  dliol  ria  a 
mhonadh,  agna  a  a  f  hoirt  dadiaidh  damh,  a  a  bhith  dnntaach  nach 
cailleadh  m  a.  Chaidh  am  bnacliallla  rk  a  mhooadh,  *a  fhoair  a  daaih 
math  raamhar,  '1  bha  a  ga  ioraaln  dachaidh.  Channaic  an  gHla- 
carrach  e^  a*  thobhairt  a  rk  a*  ghadalche  dhobh, "  Tingaian,  *a  tbaid 
ainn  a  dh  fheochainn  rk  an  damh  a  ghoid  o*n  bhoachailla,  tra  a 
bhithaaa  e  a  dot  trolmh  an  cboilk  kia.** 

Dh*  fhaibh  an  gadalcha  dobh  aa  an  gilk-carrach  do  *n  cboilk  ak 
thoiaeach  air  a  bhoachailla.  Agoa  tra  bha  am  boachailk  a  dol  troimh 
an  cboilk  lek  an  damh,  bha  an  gadaidia  dobh  an  aon  hita,  a  è  a 
mèallich,  *a  aa  gflk-carraoh  an  hita  dk,  ■  è  a  migeartaich  eoltach  ri 
gabhar.  CboaU  am  buachailk  lad,  *8  thaoil  e  go  *m  falghaadh  a  aai 
moU,  agoa  an  t-alrlonnach  a  rithiad.  Cbemgall  e  an  damh  ri  eraoOih, 
*a  chaidh  e  air  feadh  na  coilK  H  krraidh  a*  mhoilt  agni  aa  alrrkaa* 
alch.  8  dh  krr  e  lad  goa  go  *n  robh  e  Pg\th.  An  tiooMa  bha  eaaa  ag 
Iarraidh  a  mhoilt  *8  an  airionnaieh,  chaidh  aa  gflk  carach  'b  gboM  a 
lek  an  damh  '■  thog  e  kk  dachaidh  e  ebon  tigh  aghadokfaa  dhaOh. 
Chaidh  an  gadokhe  dobh  dachaidh  at  a  dheigh,  *8  mharbh  lad  aa 
damh,  *8  choir  lad  am  fialUche^*N  bha  maragan  math  alg  baan  aghad- 
akha  dhaibb  an  ohflwha  ria.    TrathahagaaibaaohalUaakaktkwi 


S44  WmT  mOHLAMD  TALia 

aa  ertdbby  fkr  in  d*  fhàg  t  in  d«mh  eMuigaflt%  dia  robh  in  dMnh 
MB.  Dh*  aithnioht  gu  'n  dcaoh  in  damh  a  ghoid, eiiiidh  e  daehaidli 
1i  dh  innU  •  do  a  mhalghittir  mar  a  thachair,  agos  throid  a  oihaigh- 
iatlr  rfa,  aeh  cha  roUh  oomaa  air. 

Ab  alh  latba  dU*  iarr  a  mhalghiatlr  air  a  bhnadiania  a%a  e  a 
àhtìl  ria  ambooadh,  *••  athoirtdacfaaldbiDolty'tga  *n€gal«igldhiltf 
a  dhmim  idir,  gu  gu  *n  Ugaadh  a  dacihaldh»  da  air  bith  a  chifhaadh 
■a  a  ohlainnaadh  a.  Dh'  fhalbh  am  biiacbaiU«b  'a  chaidh  a  ria  a 
mbooadli,  '•  fhoair  e  am  molti  'a  cliaidh  aiga  air  a  mhdit  ain  a  tholrt 
daohaidh. 

Oliabh  an  gadaicha  dabh  *a  an  gilla-earradi  air  an  agliaidh  ri  gold 
gua  gu  *n  robh  moran  airgid  aca,  agna  amoaintidi  iad  gu  Hn  b'  fbaarr 
doibh  dròbb  a  diaannaoh,  *a  dol  ohnn  iaidliir  lao  ga*n  creie,  agna  gu  "n 
aadlaadh  feadliainn  ga*m  b*ann  air  an  drbbb  airaadid  a  rinn  iad  an 
t-airgiod.  Cbaidh  an  dithia  agua  dieannaidi  iad  drobh  mor  cmidh. 
Agua  chaidh  iad  a  dh*  ionnaaidh  faidhir  a  blia  fad  air  aatar  lao, 
Ohrdc  iad  an  drobh,  'a  fboair  Ìad  an  t-airgiod  air  an  aon,  'a  dh' 
fhdbh  iad  go  dol  dachaidh.  Tra  a  bha  iad  air  an  ratliad,  dinnnaÌQ 
lad  orddi  air  mulladi  cnoic  agua  thnbhairt  an  giUa-caradi  rif  a* 
giiadaidia  dhubh,  **  Tlugalnn  an  bird  la  gu  *m  fide  ain  a'  diroidi,  tha 
Ibadbalnn  ag  ràdh,  gar  h-l  a'  dirddi  la  dairaadh  do  na  mèirlich  co- 
dhiabb/* 

Chaidh  lad  an  bird  tar  an  robh  a*  diroldi,  *a  bha  lad  a'aaalltainn  ma 
'n-ottdrt  olrra.  Thubhalrt  an  gilla-oarach, "  Nadi  fhaodamald  fheadi- 
alnn  cU-dè  an  aeòraa  bàla  a  tha  ann  aa*  chròdiadh,  gu  m  bi  fioa 
againn  da-dtf  a  tha  ann  'aa  chròdiadh,  ga  "m  bi  lioa  agalnn  da-dtf  a 
a  tha  romhulnn  ma  bheirear  oimn  ri  gadadid ;  feadiaidh  ml-fein  an 
tolaaadi  e." 

Chulr  an  gilla-caradi  an  cord  ma  amhalcb  fdn,  'a  thubhalrt  a  ria 
a*  ghaddche-dhubh.  **  So  tarruing  an  bird  mi,  'a  tra  bhitheaa  ml  ag^th 
gu  h-brd  crathaidh  ml  mo  chaa  *n,  *«  an  fin  Idg  thuaa  a  nnaa  mi." 

Tharruing  an  gaduicha-dubh  an  cord,  *a  thog  a  an  gille-carach  an 
bird  flir  an  ulmhalnta,  agua  alg  oeann  aed  beat;  chrath  an  gflle 
carach  a  chaa'n,  *•  leig  an  gadulcha-dubh  a  nnaa  e. 

Chulr  an  gilla  carach  an  cord  far  amhdch,  'a  thnbhdrt  a  ria  a' 
gbadalche-dhubh,  **  Cha  d'  fhanch  thu-fhain  ni  riamh,  a  thacho  dbb- 
Inn  ria  a'  chrocbadh,  na  *m  fauchadh  tu  aon  oair  a  cha  bhitbaadh  eagd 
ort  roroh  *n  chrochadh  tuille,  bha  mlaa  a  crathaidh  mo  ohaaan  lala  an 
olbbinneaa  *a  chrathadh  tuta  do  chaaan  Ida  an  aolbhnaaa  culdeachd 
na  m  bithadh  tu  gu  h-ard.'* 

Thulrt  an  gaduiche  dubh,  **  Feuchaidh  mise  a  culdeachd,  *a  gu  *m 
bith  floa  agam  co  ria  a'a  coltach  e.** 


A  OHILLI  OHARAIOH  MAO  NA  BAKTRAGH.  34 5 

"Dmb,**  orta  gflk-carMli,  •"•  tra  a  bUtlMM  ta  igteli  gu  h-wd, 
àmn  had  *m  Idgidh  mÌM  an  noas  thv.* 

Cbnir  an  gadaielia-dttbh  an  eòrd  ma  amhaicli,  *a  tharndng  an 
gllla-earaeh  an  Urd  e,  *•  tra  fhvair  an  gilla-caradi  gu  *n  robh  aft 
gadaicha-dnbli  gu  b-ard  ria  a*  chroidi,  thoirt  e  ris.  **  An  nia  tra 
bhiUieai  in  ag  iarraidb  a  nnas  daan  faad,  *a  ma  tha  Uni  toOiefala  fi^ 
am  bbeU  tbv,  eratb  do  ebaa  *n.** 

Tra  a  bha  an  gadaieha  dabh  laal  beag  gv  b-brd,  thbltldi  a  air  arath. 
adb  a  chaaan,  *•  air  breabadb,  *•  thalreadb  an  giUa-earadi, «  O I  nach 
aigbaaradi  tbo,  naeb  aigbaaracb  thn.  O,  nach  aighaaracfa  tho,  tm 
bhithia  laat  gn  *m  bbdl  tba  gi4  fhada  gv  h-bni  daan  fcad.** 

Ach  (ha  do  rinn  an  gadnidia-dnbb  faad  fbatbatt;  chtangafl  an 
gilla-earach  an  cord  ri  ioehdar  crann  na  croicbab  gna  gn  *n  robh  an 
gadaidia-dabh  marbh.  An  sin,  diaidh  an  gilla-earach  fiur  an  robh 
%  '•  tbog  a  aa  a  pbòe  an  t-airgiod,  *■  tbnbhairt  m  rii^  « An  nto  flmn 
nach  ail  fenm  agadaa  air  an  airgiod  10  na  to  faidi^  gabhaldh  niaa 
ehran  doth  air  do  tbon.**  '8  db  fhalbh  a  '•  db  Aug  a  an  gadnidio-dabh, 
a  eroebadb  ann  an  tin.  An  tin  chaidb  a  dacbaidh  fiir  an  robh  tigh 
a  gbadalcba  dhnibh.  8  db'  fbarraid  baan  a  gbadnicha-dvibh  dalh» 
e'aita  an  robh  a  mhaigbirtir?  Thoirt  an  giUa-carach,  ••  Db  fhhf 
miaa  a  far  an  robh  a  air  brdachadh  oa-ooann  an  taliiMb.**  Db  fbarraid* 
agm  dh'  fbarraid  bean  a*  ghadvieha  doth  naa  dhAdhinn  a  flr/goa  bm 
dbairaadh  gn  'n  d*  innto  a  d*  i,  ach  Ibnirt  a  ritha  gn  *m  pòMdh  a-fhite 
L  Tra  chnala  laa  sin  ghlaodh  i  gn  *n  do  nharbh  an  gilla-earach  a 
mbaigbiotir  to  nach  robh  ann  ach  mthrladi.  Tra  choala  an  gflla> 
carach  tin  thaich  a.  Chaidh  an  loir  a  cbnir  air  a  dhaigh,  ach  fhnair 
aian  dol  am  fidach  ann  an  naimb,  '•  chaklh  an  loir  macbad  air.  BIm 
a  *iaB  oaimb  fad  na  b-oidhcha,  agna  an  alh  latha  chaidh  aa  rathnd 
aOa,  *•  fbuair  a  taicbaadh  dodh'  Eirinn. 

Bainigatightaoir,  li  ghlaodh  la  alg  an  dorm,  "  Ltiglbh  n  idgh 


*  Co  thua?**  orta  an  saor. 

«Thh  taor  math,  bm  tba  a  Wthid  a  dnith  01«.**  acta  an  giUa 


Dh  fliocgail  an  Mor  an  doma  'a  laig  a  a  tUgh  an  gilla-earach,  *n  a 
thòialch  an  gilla  carach  air  obair  air  an  t  raoffaalnrachd  eomhk  ila 


Tra  a  bha  an  gilla-earach  latba  na  dbh  anna  an  tigh  aca,  thng  a 
tralladh  a  nnU,  *•  malladh  an  naU  ato  fcadh  an  taigba  *•  tbnbhairt  a, 
«0  chbln  tobochd  an  Ugh  agaibb  a't  tigh-latog  an  righ  cha dfatth 

bh." 

«  Oa-dtf  dhaih  rin  ?  **  oria  an 


34^  WIST  mOHLAKD  TilLBB. 

"Thi^**  ana  an  gilU  earadi,  **gii  'm  flwdadh  aiVli  wm  paOteas 
fhaotuhu  aa  tigb  atòir  ao  rigfa  na  'in  bitheadh  sibh  Mn  gU  thapaMh." 

Thairaadh  an  aaor *§  a  bbaao, "  Chuiraadh  iad  annprioaaa  afanna 
*ii  tòlaScheadh  ilnn  air  a  kithid  •Iiul*' 

Bba  an  gÌUa-carach  daoonan  af  radh  ga  'm  1m  ebblr  dolbh  dol  a 
bhiiataadh  a  atigh  do  thig h-taiig  an  righ,  '§  gu  *n  fUgfaaadh  iad  am 
pailUai  ann,  adi  dia  racliadh  an  laor  leis.  Acli  thug  an  giUa-carach 
lait  palrt  do  db*  acfhninn  an  t-aaoir,  a*a  cliaidh  a  fbdn  it  bhriad 
a  a  atigh  do  tliigli-taiig  an  rigli,  'a  Uiug  a  lait  aaladi  do*n  im  *a  do  *n 
chkiaa  aig  an  righ,  'a  thug  a  do  thigh  an  t-aaoir  a.  Tbaitinn  na 
gnotliaiclian  ga  math  ri  liaan  an  t-aaoir,  'a  bha  i  toUaach  gu  "n  rachadh 
am  Ibar  aio*  a  Chain  ann  an  ath  oidbclia.  Cliaidh  an  aaor  a-fhain  la  a 
gfaUla  an  ath  oidhcha,  *a  fhuair  iad  a  atigh  do  thigh-taiag  an  righ,  *a 
thug  iad  lao  aailachan  mora  do  gach  ni  a  b*  fbaarr  a  tbaitinn  riu 
do  na  bha  atigh  ann  an  tigh  taiag  an  rigb.  Ach  dh*  ionndrainn 
mninntir  an  rigb  an  t-ira  'a  an  ohiaa,  *a  na  rudan  eila  a  chaidh  a 
thoirt  aa  an  tigh-tbaiag»  *a  dh  innia  iad  do  *n  rigb  mar  a  thachair. 

Qbabh  an  rigb  aombairla  an  t-aaanaghail  ma  'n  doigh  a  b*  Ihearr 
gu  balraaclid  air  na  roèirlaich.  Agua  la  è  a  chomhairla  a  thug  an 
aaanghall  orra,  iad  a  cbulr  togtaid  Ihn  do  phio  bhog  fo'n  toll  far  an 
robh  i%d  a'  tigliinn  a  ttigb.  Chaidh  ain  a  dbaanamlu  Agua  an  ath 
oidhcho  ohaldb  an  gllla-caraeb  *a  a  mbaigbiatir  a  bbriadeadh  a  atigh 
do  thigh-taiag  an  righ.  Cbuir  an  gillo-carrach  a  mbaigbiatir  a 
atigh  air  thoiaaacb  air.  Agua  chaidh  am  maigbittir  siot  anna  a* 
phio  bhog  gu  a  theis-meadboin,  *a  dia  n  fliaigheadh  a  aa  a  rithÌ4d. 
Chaidh  an  gilla  carach  tiot,  *•  cbuir  a  caa  air  gach  gualann  aig  a 
mbaigliittir,  'a  chuir  a  a  mach  dh  eallach  do  *n  im  'a  do  *n  chkiaa  aig 
an  rigli  air  an  toll,  *a  an  uair  ma  dbeiraadh  tra  a  bha  a  a  tighinn  a 
macli  tgiull  a  an  caann  far  a  mliaigbislir,  'a  thug  a  leia  an  caann,  'a 
dh  fhhg  a  a  choluiin  anna  an  togaaid  phic  A'a  chaidh  a  dacluicb 
leit  an  im  *a  leia  a'  chhita,  agua  thug  a  dacliaidh  an  ceann,  agua 
dh*  adhlaic  a  anus  a  ghàrradh  a. 

Tra  a  cliaidb  muinntir  an  rigb  a  atigh  do  *n  tigh-thaisg  fhuair  iad 
oolunn  gu  'o  cheann  anna  an  togtaid  phic.  Ach  cha  b*  urrainn  dolbh 
aithneachadh  cò  4.  Dh'  fheuch  iad  am  faigbeadh  iad  h-aon  air  bith 
a  dh  aithneachadh  air  aodach  e,  ach  bba  aodach  combdaicbta  la  pic, 
air  doigh  it  nach  b'  urralun  doibli  aithneachadh.  Dh  fliarraid  an  righ 
oorohairle  an  t-theanghAl  ma  dbaldltinn.  Agut  ita  a  chomhairla  a 
thug  an  aeanaghall  orra  iad  a  cbuir  na  ooluinn  an  aird  air  bliarr 
ableaghan,  't  oa  taighdearan  gu  a  glullan  o  bliaila  gu  baila,  a  theall 
am  faiceadh  iad  h-aon  air  bith  a  ghabhadh  truadhaa  deth,  na  a  dh* 
fheucbtinn  an  cluinneadb  iad  a  b-aon  air  bith  a  dheanamh  glaodh 


A  OniLLB  CHARAICH  ICAO  NA  BANTRAOB.  $47 

gointe  tra  chitheadh  lad  è,iiA  g«d  nach  bSccadh,  gn  m  biibcadh  lad 
aalamh  gv  glaodb  gointa  a  dbeanamh,  tra  bhilbaadb  na  salgbdcaraa  a 
dol  wachad  leit.  Chaidh  a  ebolainn  a  Iboirt  ai  an  Tog«aid  phk^  lia 
coir  air  bharr  nan  sleagban,  *•  bha  na  taigbdf  aran  g'a  ghlbUn  an 
aird  air  bbanr  nan  aleaghan  fada  crannaeh  aea,  *a  lad  a  dol  o  bbafla  gm 
bail*  leit.  Agnt  tra  bha  lad  a  dol  aeach  Ugh  an  t-aaoir,  rinn  baan 
an  t-aaoir  agreuch  gbointe,  agua  ghrad|;liearr  an  gille-carach  a-fabi 
Wia  an  tàl,  *a  theireadh  a  ri  bean  an  t-aaoir,  *  Cha  *n  *eil  an  gaarradh 
ebo  dona  ia  a  tha  thn  a  amnaintaaehadb.** 

Tbainig  an  caannard  *a  eoid  do  na  aaigbdaaran  a  atigb  agna  dh' 
fharraid  iad.  -  Cia  dtf  a  dh  althricb  bean  an  taigbe.**  Thnbbairt  an 
gilla-caracb,  **  Thk  gu  *m  bbeil  miaa  air  gearradh  mo  choiaa  Ma  an 
tkl,  agna  tba  aagal  aiea  romh  fboil.**  Agna  thairidh  a  ri  bean  an  i- 
aaoir,  "  Ma  bitheadh  na  h-nibhir  aagail  ort,  kigbaiaidli  a  na  ia  loaltli 
■a  tha  thn  a  •maointeachadh.'* 

Shaoil  na  aaigbdaaran  gu  *m  b*a  an  gilla-carach  an  aaor,  agna  gm 
*m  a  a  bhaan  a  bha  aig  an  t-aaor  bean  a  glillla-charaieli,  agna  db* 
flubh  iad  a  mach,  'bchaidb  iad  o  bliaila  gn  balle,  ach  eba  d*  fboair  lad 
a  h-aon  tnlila^  ach  banntrach  an  t-aaoir  i  fbain  a  rinn  glaodh  aa 
agrencb  tra  a  bha  iad  a  tlghion  aaachad  orra. 

Tbng  lad  a  cholann  dacbaidb  chun  tigb  an  righ.  Agua  gbabh  an 
rigb  oomhairla  eila  on  t-aeanagball  aige,  'a  b*  a  in  a  cbolnnn  a  eiirocli- 
adh  ri  erann  aan  an  bita  foUaiaaach,  agna  aaigbdaaran  a  chair  a  tbabli* 
airt  aire  air  nach  tngadb  gin  air  Calbh  e^  aa  na  aaigbdaairaan  gn  a 
bhitb  a  abealltinn,  an  Ugeadh  faadbainn  air  bitk  an  ratbad  a  gbaMi- 
adh  tmaigbeaa  na  doilghioa  deth. 

Tbainig  an  gille-carach  aeachad  orra,  agna  cbonnaie  ae  iad,  ebaidb 
a  agna  fhaair  a  each,  agna  chair  a  baidaal  aiaga-bliaatlia,air gach  taobh 
do  *n  aacli,  ann  an  aaclid,  *a  ebaidb  a  aeacb  na  aaiglidearan  Ma,  *a  a 
Bsar  gn  *ni  bitbeadh  a  a'  ftdreaehd  am  fidach  orra.  Shaoil  naaaigbd- 
aaran  gn  *m  b*  ann  a  tbog  ae  mdaiginn  air  falt>h  orra,  na  gn  'n  robh 
mdaigtnn  aige  nach  ba  choir  d*a  a  bbitb  aige,  agna  mith  cnid  dinbli 
air  a  dbeigh,  *a  bheir  iad  air  an  uaeann  each  a  air  an  aiage-bheatba, 
ach  tbeich  an  giUa-caracb,  *a  db  fbbg  e  an  aaann  aacb  'a  an  t  niiiga- 
bcatha  aca. 

Thug  na  aaighdearan  an  t-each  *a  na  boideail  aiaga-bhaaib*  air 
ato  Car  an  robh  a*  cholann  an  crodiadh  ria  a'  chrann.  Sbaall  lad  da- 
d^  a  bha  anna  na  bnldaail,  *a  tra  tbnig  iad  gnr  ae  nifga-beatha  a 
bha  ann  fbnair  iad  com,  'a  thisicb  iad  air  61,  goa  ma  dbatraadb,  gn 
*n  robh  na  b-nile  b-aoo  diabb  air  mbiag,  *a  luidh  *a « baodil  iad.  Tra 
cbonnaie  an  giUa-carach  gu  *n  robh  na  aaigbdeairaan,  *nan  Inidb  li  aan 
eadal  air  a  mbiif,  thiU  a  'a  thag  a  a  anaa  a*  chalnaa  fbr  a* 


34^  Wnr  HIOHLAHD  TALOL 


t  cf«SMà  dr  drafaa  IB  cidi  e  1i  tk^f  t  da^aiA  i^chiiik  t  SB 
ifai  àgm  dk*  adUak  •  «'  choUou  aaat  a  ghkndk  far  aa  laUi  aa 


Thi  a  dhki^f  na  aaighdMraa  ac  aa  cadaly  bka  a  ckslBM  air  a  gold 
rfrfalbh.  Charobhaoaakaehdol'aiinaada'arigli.  Aariagkabh 
aa  righ  eoaihairia  aa  f  atanighal  Agas  Hnrtiliaift  aa  waaigti  il 
liallM,  na  bha  aana  aa  lathair,  Qa  "te  b^-a  a  diomlMiiria  doibk,  lad  a 
thoirt  a  aiadi  mac  ailite  dknbli  a  bha  aa  riod,  li  iad  a  dh*  (balbà 
laatha  o-bhaiU  gm  baOa^  agos  tra  tbigtadli  lad  tkaa  aa  bilafar  aai 
bUhaadh  a' choliiaa  adklakla.  ga  m  bankhaadh  I  aa  bifd  a.  Ghaidh 
iad  '•  Ihaair  lada  mhae  dkabh,  '•  bha  lad  a  dol  o  bhaOa  gu  baOe 
laatluL  a  dh' fsachaiaa  aia  ddgbaadh  i  aai  Biach  calla  aa  rolih  aT  chfdaaa 
aif  ah-adhlac.  Cbaldh  lad  o*  thigh  gu  Ugh  toatha,  gat  aw  dhibaadh 
gtt*a  d*  thaloig  lad  goa  aa  tigh  far  aa  rohh  aa  gilto  carach  agai  baaa- 
tradi  aa  Utaoir  a  ehooihaakh.  A  anab  a  ralaig  lad,  Itig  lad  a 
aUuM  napcgaoil  air  ftadh  aa  talaihaiaa.  Thnbhalit  aa  giOa-caradi 
riatha,  ga  "a  robb  a-faia  danteadi,  gu  "ai  bithaadh  paghadh  *•  acraa 
orra,  gtt'm  b'fliaarrdoibh  dol  attigh  do'a  tigh,  "bga'ai  faigheadhlad 
biadh'tdaoeh,  *•  iad  a  Itigeil  aa  igUhaaadhiabh,aa  tiom  abhithcadh 
amhoe  ag  farraidh  naa  thimchioU  aa  kita  aiga-aaa.  Chaidh ladiaa  a 
itlgth,  *•  dh  iarr  aa  gilla  carach  air  baatradi  aa  t-aaoir  I  a  char  Uadh 
'•  dcoch  air  bealamb  nan  daoine.  Chair  bantnch  an  t-taoir  biadh  '■ 
daoch  air  bòrd,  '■  chair  i  air  am  bealamb  e,  '§  aa  tiom  a  bha  iadian 
ag  iUieadh  am  biadh,  chaidh  an  gille  carach  a  roach  a  thealltuiun  aa 
deigh  na  maice,  *•  bha  a  rohoc  air  anus  air  a  cholaian  anns  a  ghhrradh, 
'i  chaidh  an  gille-carach  agot  fhualr  e  igian  mhòr,  agot  ghaarr  a  an 
eaann  du  Agui  dh  adiilaic  e  i-fein  a  *8  a  ceann,  lamb-ria  a  cholninn 
aig  an  t-iaor  snnt  a  ghkrradh.  Tra  a  thainig  an  fheadhainn  air  an 
robh  chram  na  mule*  a  mach,  cha  robh  a  mhne  ri  fhaicinn.  Dh  fharraid 
iad  do  *n  ghille-^harach  am  faca  e  L  Thnbhairt  etan  gu  *m  faca,  ga 
*n  robh  a  ceann  an  hird  agut  i  ag  amharc  suaa,  igua  a  dol  da  na  tri 
a  chenmannan  an  drkada  ii  a  rithisd.  Agos  dh  flialbh  iadsan  la  Cftbb- 
aig  mhòir,  an  taobh  a  thubbairt  an  gilla-carach  a  chaidh  a*  mhnc 
Tra  fhuair  an  gille-carach  ga  'n  deach  iadian  aa  an  t-tealladh,  choir  a 
gach  n\  air  doigh  nach  amaiseadh  iadsan  air  a  mhoie.  Chaidh  an 
fheadhainn  air  an  robh  coram  na  moie  a  agas  dh  iarr  iad  i  na  h-nila 
rathad  anns  am  bo  ooltach  i  a  bhith.  An  sin  tra  nach  b*  nrrainn 
Uoibh  a  faotuinn,  cha  robh  aca  air  ach  dol  gu  tigh  an  righ,  agos 
innsa  mar  a  thachalr. 

An  sin  chaidh  comhalrle  an  t-saanaghail  a  ghabhall  a  rithiad. 
Agos  it  e  a*  chomhairle  a  thug  an  seanagbal  orra,  iad  a  choir  nan 
salghdeirean  a  mach  air  feadb  na  duthchs  air  cheitheaman,  agos  da 


A  QHILLB  CHARAIOH  MAC  NA  BAHTRAOH.  S49 

site  air  bith  an  fkighwdh  lad  mnicfliaon,  na  cia  aiCa  air  Uth  am  Cde- 

aadh  lad  moie-nMoil ;  mar  b'-arraion  da  n  fheadliinn  ftin,  a  lalgaadii 

fhaidnB  da  mar  a  fliiiair  iad  a  mhnic-nMoil  a  bhitbcadh  aca,  ga  ^ 

b*  iad  do  an  fluadbaJna  a  mbarbh  a  mhne  *•  a  rlnn  na  h^oile  eroa  a 

cliaidh  a  dbraaamh.    Cbaidh  comhairit  an  C-teanagbail  a  gbabhall  *a 

na  talglidaaran  a  ebnlr  a  maeh  air  cbaitbaaman  air  feadh  na  dntbchtt 

*•  bha  buklhaaan  diobb  ann  an  Ugb  banntraeh  an  t-taoir  far  an  robh 

an  gilU-caracb.     Thog  banntracb  an  i-aaolr.  an  i-tnipaair  do  na 

■aigbdearan,  *■  bba  cold  do  *n  mbalo-nia(»0  air  a  daanamb  dtba  doibh* 

agnt  bha  na  taigbdaaran  ag  itbaadb  na  nraicflMoO,  agot  ga  tbr  mboladb. 

Tbnig  an  glila-caraeb  da-dtf  a  bha  air  an  airp,  acb  cha  do  laig  a 

air.    Cbaidh  na  aaigbdaaran  a  ehoir  a  loidh  a  maeh  anoi  an  i-aabhal, 

agna  tra  blia  lad  *nan  cadal,  ehaidh  an  gOla-carach  a  maeh  agna 

mbarbh  at  lad.    An  aln  diaidh  a  eho  loath  at  a  b*  nrraimi  da  o  thigh 

gn  Ugh  far  an  robh  na  aaigbdairaan  air  ehaiihaaman,  agna  chnir  a  an 

eèill  do  mhninntir  nan  Uighaan,  ga  *m  b*  ann  a  ehaidh  na  aaigbdaaran, 

a  chnir  a  maeh  air  faagh  na  dothcha,  ga  lad  a  dh'alridh  air  faadh  na 

h-oidheha,  agna  an  alnagh  a  mbarbhadh  anna  na  leapalehean  aea» 

agna  fhnair  a  a  thoiri  air  muinntir  na  dothcha  chreidainn,  gna  do 

nUmrbh  mninntir  gach  tigha,  na  blia  do  ■halghdairaan  *nan  cadal  ansa 

na  iabhailean  aea.    Agna  an  nair  nach  d*  thainig  na  aaigbdairaan 

dachaidh  alg  an  tiora  ba  choir  doibh,  cbaidh  feadhalnn  a  abaalltaten 

da-d^  a  thainig  rintha.    Agna  tra  rainig  ladaan  la  ann  a  fhnab  lad 

na  aaighdairean  marbh  anna  na  aaibhiaan,  fiir  an  robh  iad  *nan  cadali 

Agna  dh  aichaidh  mninntir  gach  tighc^  gn  *n  robh  floa  aea  ela  mar  a 

chaidh  na  aalghdeiroan  a  chnir  ga  bha,  na  eò  a  rlnn  a. 

Chaidh  na  daoina  a  bha  ria  aa  rannaaeharih  air  aon  nan  aalgh-  • 
ddraan  gn  tigh  aa  righ,  agna  dh*  Innia  lad  mar  a  thachalr.  An  ain 
chair  an  rIgh  floa  air  an  t-aaanaghal,  a  dh*  fhaocainn  comhaMt 
naldh.  Thainig  an  Manag hal,  agna  dhinnto  an  rIgh  dhh  mar  a 
thachalr,  agna  dh*  larr  aa  rIgh  eomhalria  air.  Agna  to  a  a  ehamh 
-  alria  a  thag  an  aaanaahal  air  an  rlgh,  a  a  dli«anamh  cairm  agna  lob- 
dannaa  (abhil)  *a  a  cbuireadh  alnagh  na  dothcha,  agna  nam  bithaadk 
am  fear  a  rlna  an  eron  an  ain,  gu  *m  b*a  am  a  fear  bo  dana  a  bhitiridk 
an  ain,  agnt  gon  larradh  a  nighaan  an  righ  fain  a  dliannaa  Wa, 
Chaidh  an  alaagh  iarraidh  a  chom  na  cnirm,  *8  an  dannaaldh.  Agna 
a  amaag  chalch  chaidh  an  gllla  carach  iarraidh.  Thalalg  an  alnagh 
a  chom  na  coirm,  agna  a  maaag  chalch  thainig  an  gflla  earach.  Tr4 
a  bha  a*  cholrm  aaachad  thbiaich  an  dannaa,  agna  chaUh  an  gllla- 
earach  to  dh'  larr  a  nighaan  an  righ  gn  daonaa  Ida,  agna  bha  waiiag 
Ihn  do  rad  dobh  aig  an  t  aaanaghal,  agna  ehnir  aa  aaanaghal  hall 
dnbh  da*n  md  a  bha  anna  aa  i-aaarrag  air  a  ghttla-charaeh,  aeh  bha 


aa  rìgk^lihaj 
all  am  rìgk  ooskairia,  wgm  to  e  a  rhonihairie- 
a  timm  iad,  aa  Ri^  a  tkigkma  òo  ^  cbaidaacM,  a^«i  e  agb- 
radii  ^  *M  b'  aaabkarra  tapaktk  a  dk  fWaandk  aai  iSear  a  rim  na 
k-aibdcaa  a  ckaidk  a  dWaaiaih  a  bliitk,B**  tigcadh  t  air  agbaidh 
•  e  fem  a  tÌKiirt  9maM,gm  *m  CugbkUie  aigWaa  aa  rigli  ri  pboaadh 
dàraa  Ictb  aa  riofkacbd  aa  dco  it  a  bfcithidh  aa  aa  ligh  beò, 
aa  t  JaaBaliia  do  a  riogfacbd  aa  dei^  bàs  aa  rì^  Agas  thalaig 
na  k-«ila  g;ia  do  n  fWadhaian  aig  aa  roUi  aa  da  bhall  dbabh  air  an 
aHf"».  agitf  thabhaizt  iad  gii*m  b*  iadaaa  a  rinn  na  b-nile  tapadh  a 
duidh  a  dbeaaaaih.  Aa  lia  chaidh  aa  rigb  *•  an  brd  dKWibairle,  a 
dh  fbcQcbainn  da-mar  a  gbabhadb  a  cbaii  aocrachadh,  agas  is  è  a 
ckaae  a  ibocraidi  iad,  na  b-aiie  fear  aig  an  robh  an  da  bball  dabh 
air  an  aodann,  a  dioir  eombla  ana  aa  teoasar,  agat  bha  iad  gn  pàisde 
fhaoCoinn,  agot  bha  aighwin  aa  rigb  goa  abball  a  tboirt  do  n  phiiada 
agw  bba  am  pkiada  gva  a  choir  a  lUgh  Car  an  robh  nafir  aig  an  robh 
aabiiiU  dhobh  airaa  aodaan,nan  ■aidh.agasgeb-èh-aonairbiihdo 
'n  togadh  am  |>àitde  aa  t-abhall,  b-«  tin  an  t-aon  a  bha  gua  nigliean 
aa  righ  fhaoCainn. 

Chaidh  tin  a  dheanamh,  agoa  tra  chaidh  am  phiide  a  chair  a  tttgh 
do  'n  t  aeomar  aaiu  an  robh  na  fir,  bha    liseag  a  dranndan  aig  a 


THB  TALI  or  THB  BHimr  LAa  35I 

ghine-disrrach  *•  chaidh  am  pcM*  *•  thug  m  an  t-ubluUl '  d's. 
Chaidh  aa  tin  an  i-allaeag  *•  an  dranndan,  a  tholrt  o  *n  glOe-charach 
agos  a  choir  na  thaidh  ann  an  kite  eik^  agua  chakUi  an  Unbhail  a 
tlioirt  do  *n  pbkiada  a  rithb,  agnt  a  tboirt  a  mach  aa  am  t-aeomar,  *a 
a  chair  a  itigh  a  rithb  a  ahaail  c6  àh%  a  bbdridh  t  aa  t-nbhall,  agaa 
fun  a  bha  an  t  illaeag  *§  an  dranndan  aig  a  ghilla-charach  a  roioihy 
chaidh  am  phiada  far  an  robh  a  a  rithia,  a  thog  le  dh  b  an  t-nbhalL 
An  ain  f  bnair  an  gilla-carach  nighean  an  righ  ri  pbbaadh. 

Agua  goirid  na  dhaigh  ain  bha  nigliaan  an  righ,  *•  an  gilla-caradi» 
a  ghabhailarbida  do  Bhaila-diabh,  affnt  a  nvair  a  bha  iad  a  dol  thair- 
ia  airdroahaid  Bhaila^hiabh,  dh*  fliarraid  an  gUla  carach  da  nigbana 
an  righ,  da  ainm  a  bha  air  an  aita  dn,  Agna  dh  innia,  nighaan  an 
righ  gnn  robh  drochaidh  Baila-diabh  ana  aa  fiiriBa^  Agna  thabhairt 
aa  gilla-caraclu 

*  Ma  ta  ia  trie  a  thubhairt  mo  mliathair  rinana  gv  aai  ba  a  ba 
daireadh  dliomh  a  bhith  air  mo  dirocliadh  aig  drochaid  Bhaila  ciiabh 
aa  Eirinn,  *a  rinn  i  an  fbhiainaachd  ain  domh  ionadh  aair,  tra  bhitbina 
a  daanin  phrat  oirra." 

Agua  thobliairt  nighean  an  righ.  Mala  mo  tlianntaich  to  ffrin  cro- 
chadh  tliairia  air  taobhann  an  drocliald,  camaidh  adta  aa  bird  tha 
tacaa  bang  la  mo  napaigaan  poca.** 

Agaa  bha  lad  ri  cainnt  *•  ri  aighcar  ma  daidhinn,  aeh  ma-dbairaadh 
biia  laia  a  ghiUa-charach  go  "n  daanadh  m  a,  air  a  oa  abhachd,  agaa 
thog  aigheaa  aa  righ  a  mach  a  naapalgean  poca,  agaa  chaidh  aa 
gilla-carach  thair  aa  drochaid,  agaa  chroch  a  ri  naapaigaaa  poea 
aighaan  aa  righ,  *a  I  ga  Idgaadh  fbata  thairla  air  taobhaa  na  diack- 
ald,  *a  lad  a  gairichdaich  ri  chaila. 

Ach  choala  nigbaan  an  righ  eobh,  **Tha  cairtaal  aa  righ  a  dol 
ri-thcina,**  agaa  chllag  i,  agaa  chaill  I  agrelm  air  an  naapalgean  agaa 
tholt  an  gilla-carach  aloa,  agaa  bhoail  a  chaann  ri  cMcb,  *8  chaidh  aa 
aaachainn  aa,'aeliarobh  anna  anaabh  achfblraagalaolaa'ab^algÌBB 
do  nigbaan  aa  righ  dol  dachaidh  na  banntraleh. 

From  Kale  Macfarlaae,  in  or  near  tha  year  1810;  A.  GampbaU* 
Hoaeaaath,  1800;  aad  J.  U«Nair,  Clachalg,  1880. 

Soma  inctdenta  in  tbia  atorj  I  ba^a  known  aa  long  aa  I  eaa 
remember.  Thej  oaed  to  ba  told  ma  aa  a  child  by  John  Camp- 
ball,  piper.  Some  of  tbam  were  told  ma  in  1869  bj  John  Ifao- 
kensie  at  Inwermrj,  who  aaid  thaj  were  part  of  a  long  atorj  of 
which  be  cookl  not  repeat  the  reat.  Otbera  are  alloded  to  la 
tba  Botberland    ooUactioa   aa  known  in  that   oooat/.      Tba 


i$2  WIST  HIOHLAKD  TIUB. 

▼•Tfion  gi?en  oamt  to  mt  with  tht  pedigree  giTen  abore,  and 
ii  unaltered,  except  in  ortbograph/  and  piinctoatiini  here  aad 
there. 

It  maj  be  compared  with  a  Terj  great  many  ttoriea  in  ntaa/ 
languagee,  but  I  know  none  ezactlj  like  it,  (See  note  on  No.  40, 
page  268,  toI.  ii.) 

Some  of  the  inoidente  are  Torj  like  part  of  the  itorj  of  Ramp- 
aintui  (liawlinion'a  Ilerodotua,  toI.  Ìi.  p.  191),  which  were  told 
to  Herodotua  more  than  two  thoutand  /eare  ago  bj  prieata  in 
Egypt,  and  the  moit  natural  oonoluiion  to  arrÌTe  at  ia,  that  theee 
inoidente  have  been  spread  amongtt  the  people  bj  thoee  member* 
of  their  fkmiliei  who  atudj  the  claaaioa  at  the  Scotch  uniyenitiee, 
and  who  might  well  repeat  what  they  had  learned  oyer  a  winter 
fire  in  their  father'a  cottagea,  as  their  share  of  a  night'a  enter- 
tainment. 

But  the  incidents  in  thia  story,  which  resemble  the  classical 
tale,  are  aasociatcd  with  a  groat  many  other  incidents  which  are 
woi  in  Herodotus.  Some  of  theee  have  a  reeemblauce  to  incidents 
In  the  Norse  story  of  '*  Ttie  Master  Tliief ;  **  and,  according  to  Mr. 
Daaent's  Introduction,  theee  have  a  resemblance  to  Sanscrit 
stories,  which  are  not  within  my  reading.  They  hsTO  a  relation 
tn  Italian  itoriei  in  StraparoU,  and,  according  to  a  note  in 
Rawlinson's  Herodotus,  the  story  of  Rampiintos  '*has  been 
repeated  in  the  Pecorone  of  Scr  Giovanni,  a  Florentine  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  who  substitutes  a  Doge  of  Venice  for  the 
kingr 

1  am  told  that  the  barrel  of  pitch  and  the  marks  on  the  men 
are  introduced  into  an  old  Qerman  story  ;  but  there  are  several 
incidents  luch  as  that  of  the  pig  which  was  to  discover  the  dead 
body  as  pigs  now  do  truffles,  and  the  apple  which  as  usual  is  mys- 
tical, which  so  far  as  I  know  are  in  Gaelic  only. 

On  the  whole,  then,  there  seems  to  me  nothing  for  it  but  to 
admit  this  to  be  the  Gaelic  version  of  a  popular  tale,  traditionally 
preserved  for  ages,  altering  as  times  roll  on,  and  suiting  itself  to 
the  manners  of  the  narrators  and  of  the.  time. 

To  suppose  it  to  be  derived  from  books  is  to  suppose  that 
these  books  have  all  been  read  at  some  time  so  widely  in 
Scotland  as  to  have  become  known  to  the  labouring  popula- 
tion who  Bp«ak  Gaelic,  and  so  long  ago  as  to  have  been  for- 


THB  TALI  OF  THB  8HIFTT  hUk 


353 


gotten  by  tbe  initniotecl,  who  ipoak  English  and  ttiidy  fortign 
UngnagM. 

Either  thit  ii  a  traditional  popular  tale,  or  learning  moat  have 
been  much  more  widelj  spread  in  the  wett  at  iome  former  period 
than  it  ii  at  preeent. 

Mj  own  opinion  ii  that  the  tale  ii  traditional,  hot  there  is 
room  enough  for  ipecnlation.  On  the  26th  and  27th  of  Aagiisl, 
I  heard  parts  of  the  story  told  by  Dewar,  and  MacNair,  and  John 
Mackensie.  Hector  Urqnhart  told  me  that  his  father  used  to  tsU 
it  in  Ross-ihire  when  he  was  a  child.  In  his  Torsion,  the  stora- 
house  was  a  treasury  full  of  gold  and  siWer,  and  the  entrance  a 
looee  stone  in  the  wall ;  the  man  was  caught  in  **  osr,**  a  gin  for 
catching  foxes.  The  pig  was  a  hungry  boar,  and  the  lad  killed  him 
with  an  arrow.  Even  John  the  tinker,  who  was  present,  knew  the 
story,  though  not  well  enough  to  repeat  it.  It  b  manifestly  widely 
spread  in  the  Highlands. 

The  Qaelio  is  somewhat  peculiar,  and  there  are  some  errors 
in  it  which  hare  not  been  corrected. 


END  OF  VOL.  L 


This  preservation  photocopy  was  made 

at  BookLab.  Inc.  In  compllaiKe  with  copyright  law. 

The  paper  meets  the  requirements  of  ANSI/NISO 

Z39.48- 1992  (PermanerKe  of  Paper) 


Austin  1995 


■ifrifiMrffffn 

3  2044  024   590  440 


i 


The  boiTOwer  must  renmi  this  item  on  or  before 
the  last  date  stamped  below.  If  another  user 
places  a  recall  for  this  item,  the  borrower  wiJI 
be  notified  of  the  need  for  an  earlier  return. 

Non-receipt  of  overdue  notices  does  not  exempt 
the  borrower  from  overdue  fines. 


Harvard  College  Widener  Library 
Cambridge,  MA  02138        617-495-2413 


Please  handle  with  care. 
Thank  you  for  helping  to  preserve