Chapter VI: Part 6

According to a Highland proverb, protestations may be loud till they are solemn oaths (_’S mòr facal gu lùghadh_). The wolf then held up its paw, and with great solemnity emitted this oath, “If it be that I stole the butter, and it be, and it be, may disease lie heavy on my grey belly in the dust, in the dust,” (_Ma ’s mise ghoid an t-ìm, ’s gur mi, ’s gur mi, Galar trom-ghlas air mo bhronnghlas anns an ùir, anns an ùir_).

“Swear now yourself,” but the fox was so impressed by the dignity and reverence of the oath, that he tried every means in his power to evade so solemn an ordeal; but the wolf would take no refusal, and at last the fox emitted this oath, “If it be I that stole the butter, and it be, and it be, Whirm, Wheeckam, Whirram, Whycam Whirrim Whew, Whirrim Whew,” (_Ma’s mise ’ghoid an t-ìm ’s gur a mi, ’s gur a mi, ciream, cìceam ciream cuaigeam, ciream ciu, ciream ciu_). The student of language will observe how the Gaelic C corresponds to the English Wh. This is particularly noticeable here as the difference renders the oath as ludicrous in the translation as in the original, if not more so. The wolf said nothing, but the fox, with that persistence which often accompanies evil-doing, suggested that they should both stand in front of the fire and whoever began to sweat first would be the guilty party, as the butter would be oozing out through him. The wolf thinking no evil, consented, and the fox thought he would get him to stand nearer to the fire than himself. It so turned out however, that the fox, who had kept himself in good condition by repeated visits to the keg of butter, (and they must have been more frequent than the baptisms to which he said he had been called), was getting uncomfortably warm, and said, “We are long enough at this work, we had better go out and take a walk.” When out thus cooling themselves, they passed a smithy door, at which an old white horse was standing with the point of its hind shoe resting on the ground. The wolf having gone over to it, but at a safe distance, and looking intently at the door, said to the fox, “I wish, as your eyesight is better than mine and you can read better than I can, that you would come over and read the name written on the horse shoe.”

The fox came over but could see no writing on the shoe, but flattered by the wolf’s words, and not liking to confess that his eyesight was failing, it went closer and the horse lifting its foot knocked its brains out.

“I see,” said the wolf, “the greatest scholars are not always the wisest clerks,” (_Cha ’n i an ro-sgoilearachd a ’s fhearr.--Lit._--Excessive scholarship is not always the best).

THE FOX AND THE BIRD.

In the foregoing the fox appears true to his character as an unscrupulous, grasping, wily wretch, and in the following he appears as over reached by a bird. Considering the character the fox bears, one is glad when he is paid back in his own coin. The bird in the tale is by some rendered Kestrel Hawk, and by others Hen Harrier. The story was heard in Tiree, in which are no trees on which the bird could sit, and no hawks or foxes to make the story applicable. The lesson which the fable implies is one that is useful everywhere.

A _Deargan-allt, Eun Fionn_, was dosing by a river side, when a Fox came and caught it, and was going to devour it. “Oh don’t, don’t,” said the bird, “and I will lay an egg as big as your head.”

He protested this so loudly, and so solemnly, that the fox loosened his hold till the bird at last flew up into a tree. Here sitting on a branch, and safe from further injury, it said to the fox, “I will not lay an egg as big as your head, for I cannot do it, but I will give you three pieces of advice, and if you will observe them, they will do you more good in the future. One, first, “Never believe an unlikely story from unreliable authority (_Na creid naigheachd mi-choltach fo urrainn mi-dhealbhach_). Secondly, “Never make a great fuss about a small matter (_Na dean dearmail mhòr mu rud beag_), and thirdly”--here the bird seemed to take time, and the fox having his curiosity now excited listened, though it was with firmly clasped teeth and pangs of hunger--“Whatever you get a hold of, take a firm hold of it” (_Rud air an dean thu greim, dean greim gu ro-mhath air_), saying this, the bird flew away, and the fox, thus neatly sold, was left lamenting.

THE WREN.

In the Fables relating to animals the fox readily takes a lead, and is characterised as an unscrupulous and unprincipled rascal. Next to him the wren, which is the smallest (or at least has the name of being so) of British birds figures, and has got the name not only of being small, but also of being forward and pert. The first or most prominent of these fables is that in which the wren appears as contesting with the eagle the supremacy among birds, and this story may be said to be as widely extended over the Highlands as the birds themselves. There was to be a contest which bird should fly highest, and the wren jumped upon the eagle’s back. When the eagle had soared as high as it could, it said, “Where are you now, brown wren?” (_C’ àite bheil thu, dhreathan donn?_). The wren jumped up a little higher and said, “Far, far, above you” (_Fada fada fos do chionn_). In consequence of this extraordinary feat the wren has twelve eggs while the eagle has only two.

Natural historians assert that the number of wren’s eggs in one nest seldom exceed eight, but others have stated that the most number is twelve or even fourteen. In these tales which have been got together in the West Highlands, the number is uniformly said to be twelve, but whether this is actually the case or merely an assumption, there is no call here for enquiring.

The wren and his twelve sons were threshing corn in a barn, when a fox entered and claimed one of the workers for his prize. It was agreed, since he must get some one, that it should be the old wren, if he himself could point him out from the rest. The thirteen wrens were so much alike that the fox was puzzled. At last he said, “It is easy to distinguish the stroke of the old hero himself” (_’S fhurasda buille an t-sean laoich aithneachadh_). On hearing this, the old wren gave himself a jauntier air, and said, “there was a day when such was the case” (_Bha latha dha sin_). After this the fox had no difficulty, for boasting was always illfated (_bha tubaist air a’ bhòsd riamh_) and he took his victim without any dispute.

On another occasion the wren and his twelve sons were going to the peatmoss, when they fell in with a plant of great virtue and high esteem. The old wren caught hold of the plant by the ears, and was jerking it this way and that way, hard-binding it, and pulling it, as if peat-slicing; white was his face and red his cheek, but he failed to pull the plant from the bare surface of the earth: the plant of virtues and blessings--(_Bha e ’ga dhudadh null ’s ’ga dhudadh nall, ’ga chruaidh-cheangal ’s ’ga bhuain-mòine; bu gheal a shnuadh ’s bu dhearg a ghruaidh, ’s cha tugadh e Meacain o chraicionn loma na talmhain; Meacan nam buadh ’s nam beannachd_).

The wren called for the assistance of one of his sons, saying, “Over here one of my sons to help me” (_An so aon eallach mo mhac nall_), and they caught the plant in the same way, jerking it this way and that way, hard-binding and peat-slicing with it; white were their faces and red their cheeks, but they could not with all their ardour, and their utmost strength pull the plant from the bare surface of the earth: the plant of virtues and blessings (_’S bha iad ’ga dhudadh null ’s ’ga dhudadh nall, ’ga chruaidh-cheangal ’s ’ga bhuain-mòine; bu gheal an snuadh ’s bu dearg an gruaidh ach le ’n uile dhichioll ’s le ’n cruaidh-neart cha tugadh iad am Meacan o chraicionn loma na talmhain: Meacan nam buadh ’s nam beannachd_).

“Over here with two of my sons to help me” (_An so dà eallach mo mhac nall_), and the same operation was again performed unsuccessfully, and in the same way one after another, until the whole twelve sons came to the assistance of the old wren. Then they grasped it altogether, and under the severe strain the plant at last yielded, and all the wrens fell backwards into a peat pond and were drowned.

The old man from whom this story was heard said, that in winter time, when knitting straw ropes for thatching, he could get all the boys of the village to come to assist him, and keep him company, and this they did with cheerfulness on the understanding that the story of “The wren and his twelve sons” would be illustrated at the end. One after another of the boys sat on the floor behind him, and he having a hold of the straw rope was able easily to resist the strain till he choose to let go, then all the boys fell back and the laughter that ensured was ample reward for their labour.

The fame of the wren for its forwardness and impudence is also illustrated by a story current in the south of Scotland, about Robin Redbreast having fallen sick, and the wren paying him a visit, and expressing great condolence when, after making his will, Robin dismissed her, saying, “Gae pack oot at my chamber door, ye cuttie quean.” In Gaelic the wren is also known by the name of _Dreòllan_, and _Dreathan-donn_, and the name as applied to human beings means a weakly, imbecile, trifling person, in whatever he takes in hand to do.

All the other birds in the same manner have their own share of actions ascribed to them, and the manner in which several of them made a brag of their own young is amusing--particularly in Gaelic, in which the call ascribed to them is more capable of imitation, and particularly in the light of the manner in which the young of those who make the boast are looked upon.

“Gleeful, gleeful,” said the Gull, “my young is the supreme beauty.”

“Sorry, sorry,” said the Hooded Crow, “but my son is the little Blue Chick.”

“Croak, croak,” said the Raven, “it is my son that can pick the lambs.”

“Click, click,” said the Eagle, “it is my son that is lord over you.”

(“_Glìtheag, glitheag,” ors an Fhaoilean, “’se mo mhac-sa an Daogheal Donn._”

“_Gurra, gurra,” thuirt an Fheannag, “’se mo mo mhac-sa an Garrach Gorm._”

“_Gnog, gnog,” ors am Fitheach, “’s e mo mhac-sa ’chriomas na h-uain._”

“_Glig, glig,” thuirt an Iolaire, “’s e mo mhac-sa ’s tighearna oirbh._”)

In the Highlands the young gull is called _Sgliùrach_ which is the regular name for a slatternly young woman. It is seen in the midst of a storm alighting in the hollows, and restfully gliding to the highest summits of the waves.

The hooded crow’s fancy for its own young has passed into a proverb, “The hooded crow thinks its own impertinent blue progeny pretty” (_’S bòidheach leis an fheannaig a garrach gorm fhein_”).

Of the Raven it is commonly said, that it is so fond of its victim’s eyes that it will not even give them to its own young. Its supernatural knowledge of where carrion is to be found amounts almost to instinct, and is among the vices (_Dubhailcean_) ascribed to the bard.

The eagle can only fly from an elevated situation, from the difficulty of getting wind under its wings, and in this respect forms a great contrast to the little wren.

Of other tales in which the lower animals figure, the three following are noticeable.

I.--THE TWO DEER. The young, confident of its own speed and strength, remarked:--

“Sleek and yellow is my skin,
And no beast ever planted foot
On hillside that could catch me.”

The old deer, who knew better, answered,

“The young dog black-mouthed
And yellow: the first dog
Of the first litter. Born in March,
And fed on quern meal and goat’s milk,
There never planted foot on hillside
Beast it could not catch.”

(Sleamhuinn ’s buidhe mo bhian,
’S cha do chuir e eang air sliabh
Beathach riamh ’bheireadh orm.”

“An cuilean bus-dubh buidhe,
Ceud chù na saighe
Rugadh anns a’ Mhàrt
’S a bheathaichte air gairbhean
’S air bainne ghabhair
Cha do chuir e eang air sliabh
Beathach riamh nach beireadh e air).

Regarding this description of the deer-hound it deserves notice that the word _Màrt_, translated March, denotes any busy time of the year, there being a màrt, or busy season in harvest as well as in spring, _Màrt Fogharaidh_ as well as in _Màrt Earraich_, and that in the islands meal made with the Quern (_Bràthuin_), and from brown oats, which are the kind of oats most common in these islands, is stronger and more nourishing food than common meal. The merits of goat’s milk are well known. This description of the best kind of deer-hound is striking, and was taken down from a reciter in Skye.

II.--THE TWO HORSES. Two horses were standing side by side, ready yoked and ready to commence ploughing, when the youngest, who was but newly broken, and a stranger to field work, said, “We will plough this ridge and then that other ridge and after that the next one, and once we have commenced we will do every ridge in sight, and once we have fairly commenced we will not be long in doing the whole field.” The old horse, who had experience of the work, said, “We will plough this furrow itself first.”

III.--THE TWO DOGS. There was a big, sleek, honest-looking dog, and a little yelping cur of “low degree” was always annoying him, and barking at him. One day he caught the little cur, and gave him a squeeze and sent it off yelping. When the cur recovered itself it said, “I will not hurt you or touch you, but I will raise an ill report (_droch-alla_) about you.” In pursuance of his threat the cur went among his acquaintances, and such as he himself was. There are many dogs to be found in every town.

“Both mongrel puppy whelp and hound
And curs of low degree.”

and to such the cur related how the big dog for all his smooth appearance and apparent good nature was in reality a cruel, deceitful dog and under all his apparent or seeming good manners, he was ready to fall upon those weaker than himself, whether they gave him cause or not, and if he could do it without being observed give them a bad shaking. He was a dangerous dog and ought to be watched and no wise dog should put himself in his way.

This calumny made its way, found many believers and at last produced its natural fruit. The big honest dog found his company avoided and every body looking upon him with suspicion.

At first the depression, and gloom which haunted him disappeared under a hearty run, and the patting of its master, but it preyed so much on him that he came to avoid society, and to be apparently indifferent to any company. This happens in the experiences of life, and that causeless and evil reports are most dangerous in their consequences. Some time afterwards the cur was similarly dealt with by another cur, who like himself had not very high principles.

THE CAT AND THE MOUSE.

A GAELIC NURSERY RHYME.

The Mouse said from her hiding place,
“What are you about, Grey Cat?”
“Friendship, fellowship and love:
You may come out!”
“Well I know the hooked claw
That is fastened in the sole of your feet
You killed my sister yesterday,
And with difficulty I myself escaped,
You thieving cat, son of the grim grey one,
Where were you yesterday when from home?”
“I went away on my left hand
To hunt for mince-meat in an evil hour;
I was noticed by the goodman of the house,
My eye being shut and my cheek full;
He tightened my throat very hard,
And called out to bring him the cheese-knife,
He cut off one of my ears
And the red root of the ear to the bone.”

Thuirt an Luchag, ’s i ’s an fhròig,
“’Dé th’ air t’ aire, a Chait Ghlais?”
“Càirdeas ’s comunn ’s gaol:
Feudaidh tusa tighinn a mach.”
“Is eòlach mi air an dubhan chrom
’Tha ’n sàs ann am bonn do chas!
Mharbh thu mo phiuthar an dé,
’S ann air éiginn ’fhuair mi-fhéin as.
A chaoitein, mhic Ghrìmeich Ghlais,
C’ àit an robh thu ’n raoir air chuairt?”
“Dh’ fhalbh mi air mo làimh-chlì
’Shealg nan ìsbean ’s an droch uair;
Mhothaich fear-an-tighe dhomh,
Mo shùìl druidte ’s mo phluic làn;
Theannaich e m’ amhach gu cruaidh,
’S ghlaodh e nuas air corc a’ chàis,
Thug e dhiom-sa an leth-chluas
’S am faillein ruadh gu ruig an cnàimh.”

NOTES:

The foregoing rhyme is here given as being a more complete version than that to be found in vol. II. p. 389 (new edition p. 404) of “Popular Tales of the West Highlands” by the late J. F. Campbell, of Islay.

GAMES.

BOY’S GAMES.

In the Highlands of Scotland, as in every other place where there are children, youthful plays and amusements had their sway, and it is worthy of attention how these amusements were eminently calculated to develop and strengthen mind and muscular strength in the young. The various amusements of Riddles, and the many forms of indoor or house games are too numerous to describe, and in many instances not worth while dwelling upon. These games particularly called out the power of close attention and of ready speech, and were as often played out of doors as indoors, according to weather.

I.

WRESTLING MATCHES.

When the youth of a village met at a _céilidh_, or indoor gathering, and a wrestling match was resolved upon, one of them was appointed a king or master of the ceremonies, and the company was bound to be obedient to him in everything. In the following game a stout and likely lad was fixed upon to come in, in the character of a “Desert Glede” (_Croman Fàsaich_). When he came in, the following speech occurred: addressing the king, he said:--

_Croman._

“Leigeadh da, leigeadh da, Dia,”

_Righ._

“Co as a thàinig thu, a Chromain Fhàsaich, no ’de an dràsda thug so thu?”

_Croman._

“Thàinig mi a m’ fhonn ’s a m’ fhearann, ’s a m’ fhàsach fhéin.”

_Righ._

“’Dé chuir fearann ’s fonn ’s fàsach agadsa ’s mise gun fhonn gun fhearann gun fhàsach.”?

_Croman._

“Mo chruas, ’s mo luathas, ’s mo làidireachd fhéin.”

_Righ._

“Tha òganach geur donn agamsa a leagadh tu, ’s a bhreabadh tu, ’s a bheireadh sia deug dh’ iallan do dhroma asad, agus iall g’ ad cheangal; ’s a mhi-mhodhaicheadh do bhean ann an clais na h-inne ’s tu fhéin ceangailte.”

_Croman._

“Cuir a mach so e ma ta.”

* * * * *

_Kite, or Glede._

“Permit, permit, O Deity.”

_King._

“Where have you come from, Kite of the Desert, and what has now brought you here?”

_Kite._

“I come from my own land and soil and desert.”

_King._

“How have you land and soil and desert, when I have neither land nor soil nor desert?”

_Kite._

“My own hardiness and swiftness and strength.”

_King._

“I have a smart brown-haired youth, who can throw you down, and kick you, and take sixteen thongs out of your back, and a thong to tie you with, and who can throw your wife into the byre gutter while you yourself are tied.”

_Kite._

“Send him out here then.”

The wrestling then began, and the one who proved victor became “Desert Glede” for the next encounter, until the whole were run over.

The words were sometimes used in the following form:--

_Righ._--“Dida-a-didacha-dìsa, a Chromain Fhàsaich, co as dràsda a choisich thu?”

_Croman._--“Feuch ’bheil gìomanach donn agad a chumas rium.”

_Righg._--“Tha agamsa gìomanach donn a chumas riut ’s a dheanadh loth pheallagach dhiot aig dorus an tighe, etc.”

* * * * *

_King._--“Deeda-a-deedacha-deesa, Desert Glede, whence have you walked from now?”

_Kite._--“Try whether you have a brown-haired youth to match me.”

_King._--“I have a brown-haired youth that will match you and make a matted colt of you at the door of the house, etc.”

Another game popular on these occasions was one of forfeits, known as the “Parson’s mare has gone amissing,” (_Làir a’ pharsonaich air chall_). Every boy and girl in the company has a false name, given for the occasion, such as “Old Cow’s Tail” (_Earball Seana Mhairt_); “Rooster on the House-top” (_Coileach air Tigh_), etc. The king, or overseer, commencing the game says,

“The parson’s mare has gone amissing,
And it is a great shame that it should be so;
Try who stole her.”

Làir a’ pharsonaich air chall,
’S mòr an nàire dh’ i bhi ann;
Feuch cò ghoid i.

Looking round the circle, he fixes upon some one, and mentions him by the assumed name. He fixes, for instance, on the one to whom the name of “Old Cow’s Tail” was given, and the person mentioned or denoted was bound at once to answer, saying

“It’s a lie from you”
(’S breugach dhuit e)

to which the answer is,

“Who then is it?”
(Feuch cò eile e?).

The person accused at once passes it on by mentioning some one else, such as the “Rooster on the House top,” and the same query and answer, “Who then is it?”, etc., is passed on. The first one who fails in giving a ready reply has to submit to give a forfeit which the ruler keeps in security till all have been exacted; then some one bends down and rests his head upon the king’s knee, when the forfeits are held upon his head and he is made to award the punishment of redeeming them. He does not see whose forfeit it is, and the penalty imposed is sometimes very ludicrous and impossible. One, for instance, has to sit on the fire till his stomach boils (_Suidhe air an teine gus am bi a ghoile air ghoil_); another is to go out to the hillock in front of the village and bawl out three times,

“This is the one who did the mischief
And who will do it to-night yet.”

(’S mise an duine a rinn an t-olc
’S nì mi ’n nochd fhathast e).

This game requires great readiness and retentiveness of mind. The attention being kept continually on the strain in case one’s own assumed name be called out, and a readiness to pass the accusation on to another.

The game of “Hide and Seek” was practised in the Highlands in many forms. Probably the earliest and simplest is that of young children playing round their mother, while she was engaged in baking bread. It was the custom in olden times to gather the meal or remains of dough left over after the oatcakes of bread were made, and duly work it into a cake by itself, called the _Bonnach Beag_, or “Little Cake,” also known as _Siantachan a’ Chlàir_, “The Charmer of the Board,” which was supposed to be of mysterious value in keeping want away from the house. This little cake was given to the children, and when butter was ready or accessible, was thickly covered and given to the little fry, making a very welcome and grateful treat. Sometimes when the butter was very thickly spread, and perhaps with the thumb as the readiest and most convenient substitute for a knife, the housewife said, “Here take that; it is better than a hoard of cloth” (Gabh sin; ’s fhearr e na mìr liath ’an clùd). Hence the expression that was used to denote that the preparations were not quite over:

“Cha ’n ’eil am bonnach beag bruich fhathast.”
(The little cake is not ready yet).

Not infrequently the little things hid their heads under their mother’s apron, thinking, like the ostrich of the desert that if their heads were hidden, none of the rest of them would be seen. When children played the game in the open air, the stackyard was commonly resorted to, and the one who was fixed upon as the Blind Man, while the rest were hiding themselves had to call out three times,

“Opera-opera-bo-baideag”

adding at the third time,

“Dalladh agus bodharadh agus dìth na dà chluais air an fhear nach cuala sud.”

(Blindness and deafness and the loss of both ears be the lot of the one who will not hear that).

The Blind-man then caught hold of one of the stacks, and went round, guided by his hands, giving occasional kicks in case any one should be hiding himself near the ground.

APPENDIX.

I.--FINLAY GUIVNAC.

(Page 44).

_Guibhnich_, or _Duimhnich_, were the Campbells. In a song in dispraise of the clan occurs,

“Bheir mi ’n sgrìob so air na Guibhnich
Air son cuimhneachadh o nuadh.

(I will make this line on the Campbell clan,
To remind them anew);

and in another similar song,

“Sgrios a’ chorrain air a’ choinnlein
Air na bheil beò do na Guibhnich.”

(The destruction of the reaping-hook on a grain of corn
On the living race of the Campbell clan).

In Stewart’s Collection, p. 320, is found,

“Dean mo ghearan gu cuimhneach
Ris na Duimhnidh ghlan uasal.”

(Be mindful to lay my complaint
Before the pure-minded noble Campbells).

II.--PORT-NAN-LONG.

(Page 52).

_Port-nan-long_ is said to have got its name from the following circumstance:--About the year 500 A.D., the few inhabitants then living in Tiree were in the township and neighbourhood of Sorabi, where there was a chapel, and which lies on the south-east side of the island, and is separated by the stream of the same name running past the burying-ground into the bay, from the township of Balinoe (_Baile-nodha_). The island having been previously desolated by pirates and cattle-raiders, and a rumour being heard at this time that a band of these had again returned among the islands to renew their depredations, a watch was kept, and the factor of the community, who appears to have been their only protector and counsellor, went daily to look seawards for the appearance of the enemy, lest the small and feeble band might be surprised before they could make their escape or reach a hiding-place. One day then he saw ships coming from the south-east, and he went in and sent word to his neighbours. When he looked again, the ships were nearer and were a large fleet. The next look he gave he saw that they were close at hand, near the land. He then called the people round him, and told them how he could see that their enemies, who were near, were too powerful to be resisted; that as he himself and those with him were defenceless, and unable to escape, their only hope of deliverance from their terrible danger was in the power of Almighty God, whose aid he would ask, and kneeling on the ground with his friends and neighbours around him, he said, “O Lord, as all power is in thy hand, help us against these enemies who are coming on us (to destroy us)”; (_A Thighearna, o ’n a’s ann ad làimh a tha gach cumhachd, cuidich leinn o na naimhdean sin a tha ’tighinn oirnn!_). He had scarcely uttered the last word when a violent storm came from the south-east, and the ships of the enemy came ashore, one heaped above another (_air muin a’ chéile_). Sixteen of them were completely destroyed. One person even was not left to tell their fate; and from that time the place has been called _Port-nan-long_, (the Creek of Boats).

III.--A TRADITION OF MORAR.

MAC VIC AILEIN OF MORAR (_Mòr-thìr_) was out in a shealing with his men, on a summer morning, and saw a young woman following cows, with her petticoats gathered to keep them dry, as the dew was heavy on the ground (_a còtaichean truiste, le truimead an driùchd, g’ an cumail tioram_). He said, “Would not that be a handsome young woman if her two legs were not so slender (_mur biodh caoilead a dà choise_).” She answered in his hearing, “Often a slender-shanked cow has a large udder[31] (_is minig a bha ùth mhòr aig bò chaol-chasach_).” He asked her to be brought where he was; she was his own dairymaid. She went away to Ireland, and named her son Murdoch after his foster-father (_oide_), whom she afterwards married. He was known as Little Murdoch MacRonald (_Murcha beag Mac Raonuill_). As he grew older his mother would be telling him about a brother he had in Alban (_an Albainn_) who was a strong and powerful man, and the lad, being a good wrestler, thought he would like to go and see him, to try a bout of wrestling (_car-gleachd_) with him, to find which of them was the strongest man, and watched for an opportunity to get to Alban. As there was frequent communication then between Ireland and the Western Highlands he had not long to wait till he saw a boat in which it was likely he would be taken. He went to the harbour and on reaching the boat, without knowing that it belonged to his brother, asked the first person he met, who was _Mac vic Ailein_ himself, if he would get ferried across to Scotland (_dh’ iarr e ’n t-aiseag_). _Mac vic Ailein_ said that he would take him with them. When they went away the day became stormy (_shéid an latha_), and no one who went to steer but was lifted from the helm,[32] _Mac vic Ailein_ being thrown aside as well as the others. When _Murcha beag Mac Raonuill_ saw that the strongest man among them could not stand at the helm, he asked to be allowed to try it. “You would get that,” _Mac vic Ailein_ said, “if you were like a man who was able to do it, but when it is beyond our strength (_’nuair a dh’ fhairtlich i oirnn fhéin_), you need not make the attempt.” “At any rate,” he said “I will give it a trial”: and it did not make him alter his position (_cha do chuir i thar a bhuinn e_) till they reached land. As he was the best seaman _Mac vic Ailein_ would not part with him. He took him to his house and entertained him as a guest. They entered into conversation and began to give news to each other (_chaidh iad gu seanachas agus gu naigheachdan_) till little Murdoch told him he was his brother and that it was for the express purpose (_a dh’ aon obair_) of seeing him he had come from Ireland, and that he would not return till they tried a bout of wrestling, since _Mac vic Ailein_ was so renowned for his prowess, and he would find out what strength he possessed before he left. The heroes rose and began to wrestle, but in a short time _Mac vic Ailein_ was thrown (_Dh’ éirich na suinn, ach ann an tiota bha Mac ’ic Ailein ’s a dhruim ri talamh_). “I am pleased to have taken the trouble of coming from Ireland (_toilichte as mo shaothair_),” Murdoch said. Next day at dinner they had beef on the table, and little Murdoch said, “Let us try which of us can break the shank bone[33] (_a’ chama-dhubh_) with the hand closed.” “I am willing,” _Mac vic Ailein_ said. “Well, try it, then,” Murdoch said. _Mac vic Ailein_ tried as hard as his strength would permit, and it defied him (_dh’ fhairtlich i air_). Murdoch broke it at the first blow. _Mac vic Ailein_ then said, “You will not return to Ireland any more; you will stay with me, and we will divide the estate between us.” Murdoch replied, “I am well to do as it is (_glé mhath dheth mar thà_), my mother and stepfather have sufficient worldly means (_gu leòir de ’n t-saoghal_), and I will not stay away from them though you were to give me the whole estate,” and wishing _Mac vic Ailein_ enjoyment and prosperity, he bade him farewell and returned to Ireland, and friendly communication was kept up between them ever afterwards during their lives.

IV.--CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN J. F. CAMPBELL OF ISLAY AND J. G. CAMPBELL.

Among the treasures regarding folk-lore that I have been able to collect are a few letters of the late J. F. Campbell of Islay to the Rev. J. G. Campbell, late Minister of Tiree. They deal with various questions and traditions.

_Inter alia_ is a discussion concerning the word sàil versus sìol Dhiarmaid. I give the letters as written.

A. CAMPBELL.

SÀIL OR SÌOL DHIARMAID.

The late Campbell of Islay to the late J. G. Campbell.

TRAVELLERS’ CLUB,
Feb. 27, 1871.

MY DEAR SIR,

I’ll get you the books you name and send them soon. With regard to sàil there was once an actor who amused an audience by putting his head under his cloak and squealing like a pig. A countryman rose and said that he would squeal better next day. So a match was made and tried. The audience applauded the actor and hissed the countryman. But he produced a pig from under his cloak. I know what the man meant who signed Sàil Dhiarmaid. The man who spoke no other language pointed to the place in his foot which he meant by Sàil, so I learned the lesson, and anybody who will try may learn a good deal about Gaelic in the same fashion.

If a man starts with the conviction that knowledge is to the unknown as a drop in the ocean--he will get on.

I have MacNicol, and know his remark about Ossian’s leg.

I have now got the only copy that ever was written, so far as I know, and I shall be glad to get more. But we must all take what we can get. As far as fixing the king or the country and the date, that is perfectly hopeless. I have about 16 versions of one story in Gaelic, and no two have the same name. I suppose that there must be sixty versions of it known in other languages, and no two are alike. The oldest I know is scattered in ejaculations and separate lines through the Rigveda Sanhitâ, which is a collection of hymns in Sanscrit, and the oldest things known. St. George and the Dragon is a form of the story. Perseus and Andromeda is another. In Gaelic it is generally _Mac an Iasgair_, or _Iain Mac_ somebody, or _Fionn Mac a’ Bhradain_, a something to do with a mermaid or a dragon, the herding of cows and the slaying of giants. The stories to which I referred were told me by John Ardfenaig as facts (the Duke of Argyll’s factor in the Ross of Mull). A man built a boat. Another, to spite him, said that the death of a man was in that boat--no one would go to sea in it, and at last the boat was sold by the builder to an unbeliever in ghosts and dreams. The other was how the turnips were protected in Tiree. If you know these you have got far, but if not you have a good deal to learn in Tiree.

I wish you success anyhow,
Yours truly,
J. F. CAMPBELL.

NIDDRY LODGE, KENSINGTON,
March 28, 1871.

MY DEAR SIR,

I have been too busy about festivities and work to be able to get the book which I promised to seek for you. I got your letter of the 20th, yesterday, and I am much obliged by your promise to put some one to write for me. If he writes from dictation will you kindly _beg him to follow the words spoken_ without regard to his own opinion, or to what they ought to be. I speak English, but when I come to read Chaucer I find words that I am not used to. So it is when men who speak Gaelic begin to write old stories. Our argument is an illustration. You speak Gaelic and you believe that Sàil means heel and nothing else. You told me that Sàil Dhiarmaid ought to be Sìol.

Now I speak Gaelic, but I profess to be a scholar, not a teacher. I happen to know that the man who signed Sàil Dhiarmaid, which was printed _Sàil_ didn’t mean _Sìol_. I have the following quotation,--

“_Eisdibh beag ma ’s àill leibh laoidh_

* * * * *

_Chaidh am bior nimh’ bu mhòr cràdh
An Sàil an laoich nach tlàth ’s an trod--
’S e ri sior chall na fala
Le lot a’ bhior air a bhonn._”

In this old lay as sung in the outer isles these would mean the spot which an old Mull man pointed to as sàil.[34]

If you are sceptical I hold to my creed of the people. But creed or no creed I want to get the tradition as it exists and I would not give a snuff for “cooked” tradition.

Tuesday, Oct. 10, 1871.
CONAN HOUSE, DINGWALL.

MY DEAR SIR,

I promised yesterday at Portree to send you my version of the fairy song, and asked you to return yours. You must remember that I never tried to write it from Gaelic, and that I never tried to write it from rapid dictation till last month. Correct my spelling, but mind that I took the _sounds_ from ear, so preserve all that you can without reference to dictionary words. Don’t be hard upon a clansman who is doing his best.

Believe me,
Yours very truly,
J. F. CAMPBELL.

From John Cameron, a man about 60, who lives in the south end of Barra, about three miles from Castlebay. He can sing and recite, 1.--The Maiden (written by J. F. C.); 2.--The Death of Diarmaid; 3.--The Death of Osgar; 4.--The Battle of Manus (written by J. F. C.); 5.--The story of the Death of Garry; 6.--The Black Dog; 7.--The story of ditto. 8.--The Smithy and story; 9.--The _Muireartach_; 10.--Dàn an Deirg; 11.--The Fairy Song (as written here by J. F. C.); 12.--How Coireal was slain; 13.--Fionn’s questions; 14.--A small story written; and sundry other songs, lays, and stories, which he will get written if I wish it. This is one of about a dozen of men whom I have met of late who can sing and recite Ossianic ballads, of which some are not in any book or old manuscript that I know. I have another version of this song, written about ten years ago--by MacLean,[35] I think. See Vol. IV. Popular Tales, Lists somewhere. It is now in London.

THE FAIRY SONG.

The tune is very wild and like a pibroch. I could not learn it in the time.

_This is the story as told in Gaelic._

There was a time, at first, when before children were christened they used to be taken by the fairies. A child was born and it was in a woman’s lap. A fairy came to the _Bean-ghlùn_ and she said to the midwife, “_’S trom do leanabh_.” “_’S trom gach torrach_,” said the other. “_’S aotrom do leanabh_,” said the fairy. “_’S aotrom gach soghalach_,” said the midwife, “_’S glas do leanabh_,” said the fairy. “_’S glas am fiar ’s fàsaidh e_,” said the other; and so she came day by day with words and with singing of verses to try if she could “word” him away with her--“_am briatharachadh i leatha è_.” But the mother always had her answer ready. There was a lad recovering from a fever in the house and he heard all these words, and learned them, and he put the song together afterwards: after the child was christened the fairy came back no more.

This is the song. I have tried to divide the words so as to represent the rhythm of the tune, but I am not sure that I have succeeded.--J. F. C.

I have given a rough copy to Miss MacLeod of MacLeod at Dunvegan, and I should like to have _this_ or _a copy_ back if it is not troublesome. My first manuscript is not easy to read, and I have worked this from it.

Fairy:--“’S e mo leanabh mìleanach
Seachd Maìleanach
Seachd Dhuanach,
Gual na lag; ’s lag na luineach
Nach d’ fhàs “nacach.”

[Reciter don’t understand gnathach, common.]

Mother:--Se mo leanabh ruiteach (colour ruddy)
Reamhar molteach
Miuthear mo luachair
Ohog ri mnathan
M’ eòin ’us m’ uighean
On thug thu muine leat
’Us maire leat
’Us mo chrodh lùigh
’Us mo lochraidh leat.

Mother:--Bha thu fo ’m chrios an uire
’S tha thu ’m bliadhna
Gu cruinn buanach
Air mo guailain
Feadh a bhaile.

Fairy:--Thug go gu gŏrach (fat, Reciter)
Mnath ’n òg a bhaile
Lan _shaochail_[36] uimach
Thug go gu gŏrach
Le ’n ciabhan dhonna
Le ’n ciabhan troma

[He said at first somewhere, “Le ’n ciochan corrach”? place.]

Thug go gu gŏrach
’S le ’n suilean donna

Mother:--Se sin Leoid
Na lorg ’s na luireach
Se Lochlan bu duchas dhuit
O fire fire nì mi uimad
Cireadh do chinn
Ni mi uimad.

Fairy:--Fire fire nì mi uimad
Cha tu an uan beag
Ni mi uimad
Crodh ’us caorich
Ni mi uimad.

Mother:--Fire fire ni mi uimad
Breachan chaola
Ni mi uimad
Fire fire ni mi uimad
A bhog mhiladh (? fileadh. Oh soft soldier, soft mine own)
O bhòg ’s leam thu
O bhog mhilidh bhog
Mo bhrù a rug
O bhog mhilidh bhog
Mo chioch a thug
O bhog mhilidh bhog
Mo gluin a thog
O bhog mhilidh
Bho ’s leam thu.

Fairy:--B’ fheàrr leam gu faic mi do bhuaille
Gu àrd àrd an iomal sleibhe
Còta geal cateanach[37] uaine
Mu do ghuailain ghil ’us léine.

Nurse:--B’ fhearr leam gu faichean do sheisearach
Fir na deance (?) a cuit shil
Gu rò do cheol air feadh do thalla (land or hall)
Leann bhi ga gabhail le fìon
Bhog mhilidh bhog
’S leam thu.

And so she says a verse each day, and if that would not do, she came the next and made another, and the little lad made out the song which he sat and heard. When the child was baptized she went away and never came back again.

* * * * *

N.B.--I have set the verses to each character as best I could, not knowing much about it except the last two, these the reciter placed.

NOTES:

_The Fairy Song_ in the MS. is most difficult to read. It was written phonetically, and is now in some places indistinct. The following transliteration and translation by Mr. Duncan Mac Isaac, of Oban, show a probable reading, and this may be enough, in view of the spell-words of the fairy, whose mystic diction appears to have been of a conservative quality, and to have affected the responses of the infant’s mother.--[A. C.]

Fairy--’S e mo leanabh mì-loinneach
Seac maoileanach
Seac ghuanach,
Guailne lag, ’s lag ’n a lùireach
Nach d’ ùisinnicheadh.

Mother:--’S e mo leanabh ruiteach
Reamhar moltach
M’ iubhar mo luachair
A thog ri mnathan
M’ eòin is m’ uighean
O ’n thug thu m’ ùine leat
Is m’ aire leat
Is mo chrodh-laoigh
Is mo laochraidh leat.

Mother:--Bha thu fo ’m chrios an uiridh
’S tha thu ’m bliadhna
Gu cruinn buanach
Air mo ghualainn
Feadh a’ bhaile.

Fairy:--Thuth gò gugurach
Mnathan òg a’ bhaile
Làn shòghail uidheamach
Thuth gò gugurach
Le ’n ciabhan donna
Le ’n ciabhan troma
Thug go gugurach
Le ’n cìochan corrach
’S le ’n sùilean donna.

Mother:--’S e sin Leòid
’N a lorg ’s ’n a lùireach
’S Lochlann bu dùthchas dhuit
O fire fire nì mi umad
Cìreadh do chinn
Nì mi umad.

Fairy:--Fire fire nì mi umad
Cha tu an t-uan beag
Nì mi umad.
Crodh is caoraich
Nì mi umad.

Mother:--Fire fire nì mi umad
Breacain chaola
Nì mi umad
Fire fire nì mi umad
A bhog mhìlidh
O bhog ’s leam thu
O bhog mhìlidh bhog
Mo bhrù a rug
O bhog mhìlidh bhog
Mo chìoch a thug
O bhog mhìlidh bhog
Mo ghlùin a thog
O bhog mhìlidh
Bho ’s leam thu.

Fairy:--B’ fheàrr leam gu faic mi do bhuaile
Gu àrd àrd ’an iomall sléibhe
Còta geal caiteineach uaine
Mu do ghualainn ghil is léine.

Mother:--B’ fheàrr leam gu faicinn do sheisreach
Fir na deannaige a’ cur sìl
Gu robh do cheòl air feadh do thalla
Leann ’bhi ’g a ghabhail le fìon
Bhog mhìlidh bhog
’S leam thu.

Fairy:--He is my ungraceful child,
Withered, bald, and light-headed,
Weak-shouldered, and weak in his equipments,
That have not been put to use.

Mother:--He is my ruddy child, plump and praiseworthy;
My yew-tree, my rush, raised to women;
My bird and my eggs, since thou hast taken my time with thee,
My watchful care, my calved-cows, and my heroes with thee;
Last year thou wast under my girdle,
Thou art this year neatly gathered
Continually upon my shoulder
Through the town.

Fairy:--Hooh go googurach,
Young women of the town, fond of delicacies and dresses,
Hooh go googurach,
With their brown ringlets, with their heavy tresses,
With their abrupt breasts, with their brown eyes.

Mother:--That is a Mac Leod by heredity
In his coat of mail;
Thy nativity is Scandinavian;
O pother, pother, the combing of thy head,
I’ll do that about thee.

Fairy:--Pother, pother, I’ll do about thee;
Thou art not the little lamb
I’ll make about thee,
Cattle and sheep I’ll make about thee.

Mother:--Pother, pother, I’ll do about thee,
Narrow plaids I’ll make about thee,
O pother I’ll make about thee, thou soft warrior,
O tender one, thou art mine, thou soft soldier,
The fruit of my womb, thou soft, tender warrior,
My breast that took, thou soft champion,
Reared upon my knees, thou tender champion,
Since thou art mine.

Fairy:--I’d prefer to see thy cattle-fold
High, high on the shoulder of the mountain,
A white coat, ruffled green,
About thy white shoulders, and a shirt.

Mother:--I’d prefer to see thy team of horses,
And the men of the handfuls sowing seed,
And that thy music would be through thy hall
Accompanied by ale and wine;
Thou tender champion,
Thou art mine.

The late Campbell of Islay in the following letter, extracts of which will be given, alludes to Mr. Campbell’s intention of publishing at no distant date.

NIDDRY LODGE, Jan., 16, 1871.

I thank you for your letter of the 10th which reached me on Saturday, on my return to Tiree.

I shall be very glad to assist a namesake and a Highland minister who is engaged in literary work, in which I take a special interest myself. I now repeat my message, and ask you to place my name on the list of subscribers, if you have one. I shall be very glad to read your book. I am not publishing more Gaelic tales, but I am collecting, and I may some day publish a selection or an abstract or something from a great mass which I have got together. If you have anything to spare from your gatherings perhaps the best plan would be to employ some good scribe, etc. etc. etc. If you have any intention of publishing I beg that you will not think of sending me your gatherings. But anything sent will be carefully preserved.

Superstitions are very interesting, but I should fear that the people will not confide their superstitions to the minister. Amongst other matters which are noteworthy are superstitious practices about fowls.

These prevail in Scotland, and are identical with sacrifices by the blacks amongst whom Speke and Grant travelled--so Grant told me. Anything to do with serpents has special interest because of the extent of ancient serpent worship, for which see Ferguson’s great book on Tree and Serpent Worship in India and elsewhere. The connection between tree and well worship in India and in Scotland generally, and generally in the old world, is well worth investigation; also anything that is like the Vedic forms of religion, at which you can get by reading Wilson’s Translation of the Rigveda Sanhitâ, and the works of Max Muller. Anything belonging specially to the sea is interesting. The Aryans are supposed to have been natives of Central Asia, to whom the sea must have been a great mystery.

Now it is a fact that all the Aryan nations have curious beliefs and ceremonies and practices about going to sea, _e.g._--you must not whistle at sea; you must not name a mouse _Luds_ in Argyll but _Biast tighe_; you must not say the shore names for _fine_ or _low_ when at sea, but use sea terms; all that is curious and very hard to get at. Even to me they will not confess their creed in the supernatural. I have a great lot of stuff that might be useful to you, and I shall be glad to serve you, because there is a certain narrow-minded spirit abroad to which reference is made in the paper which I send herewith. It is highly probable that I may be out in the west in spring or summer.

Yours very truly,
J. F. CAMPBELL.

The following letter refers to the longest and most complex tale orally preserved in the Highlands, ‘The Leeching of Kian’s Leg.’ The version which Islay mentions is still unprinted. It is preserved with a portion of his MSS. in the Advocate’s Library at Edinburgh, and a summary of its contents has been published by me in _Folk-Lore_, Vol. I., p. 369. Mr. Campbell’s fragmentary version was printed and translated by him, ‘Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Inverness, 1888.’ Another fragmentary version, collected by the Rev. D. MacInnes, will be found in Vol. II. of this series. The oldest known MS. version, alluded to in this letter, has been edited and translated by Mr. Standish Hayes O’Grady in _Silva Gadelica_, from a 15th century MS. A re-telling of the story, based upon all the versions, will be found in Mr. Jacob’s _More Celtic Fairy Tales_.--A. N.

May, 4, 71. NIDDRY LODGE,
KENSINGTON.

MY DEAR SIR,

I sent you a _Times_ review of Clerk’s Ossian the other day to amuse you; also a paper with an account of fighting in Paris, where I was at Easter.

I got your letter and parcel of May 1, last night, and I have just read the story. It is extremely well written, and the language is vernacular and perfectly genuine: as I have now got 20 volumes, and half another, I am able to judge. Yours is a version of the story of which I sent you the abstract. If ever I publish the story I see that I must fuse versions, and select from the majority of various readings, under the name of “The Leching of Khene is legg.” The story is mentioned in the Catalogue of the Earl of Kildare’s library amongst the Irish Books, A.D. 1526 (Harleian MSS., 3756, Brit. Museum). I gave this information to Kildare, who has been hunting high and low to find out what was meant, they could not tell him in Ireland. I met him at Lorne’s marriage and lent him my copy, 142 pages from oral recitation. Now you send me 19 more pages, and 3 of another version, 22. Between us we have already recovered something of a story 345 years old at least.

Therefore Tradition is respectable; a comparison of versions gives a fair measure of the power of popular memory, so that written Gaelic folk-lore is a kind of measure for other and older written traditions. But as all that is old in history was tradition at first, the study is worth trouble as I judge. The more we can get written the better pleased I shall be. I am exceedingly obliged to you, and hope to thank you in person some of these days.

I am,
Yours truly,
J. F. CAMPBELL.

NOTES:

[31] In the oldest known version of the Exile of the Son of Usnech (preserved in the 12th century MS., the Book of Leinster) when Noisi sees Deirdre for the first time, he exclaims, ‘’Tis a fair heifer passing by me.’ She answers, ‘Where the bulls are there must needs be fine heifers.’ This is one of the passages relied upon by Prof. Zimmer in support of his contention that old Irish literature is so extremely ‘naturalistic’ in its treatment of sexual matters that we must needs suppose the Aryan Celts were polluted by a rude and more archaic population. I confess I see nothing in either the earlier or the present passage but the simplicity of a race living, 2000 years ago, as it still in part does, very close to nature, and accustomed to frank speaking about natural matters. The whole of this tradition is simply the fitting into a local frame of incidents which are commonplaces in the folk-tales.--A. N.