TALES ILLUSTRATIVE OF FAIRY SUPERSTITION.
LURAN.
This is a tale, diffused in different forms, over the whole West
Highlands. Versions of it have been heard from Skye, Ardnamurchan,
Lochaber, Craignish, Mull, Tiree, differing but slightly from each
other.
The Charmed Hill (_Beinn Shianta_), from its height, greenness, or
pointed summit, forms a conspicuous object on the Ardnamurchan coast,
at the north entrance of the Sound of Mull. On ‘the shoulder’ of this
hill, were two hamlets, Sgìnid and Corryvulin, the lands attached
to which, now forming part of a large sheep farm, were at one time
occupied in common by three tenants, one of whom was named Luran Black
(_Luran Mac-ille-dhui_). One particular season a cow of Luran’s was
found unaccountably dead each morning. Suspicion fell on the tenants
of the Culver (_an cuilibheir_), a green knoll in Corryvulin, having
the reputation of being tenanted by the Fairies. Luran resolved
to watch his cattle for a night, and ascertain the cause of his
mysterious losses. Before long he saw the Culver opening, and a host
of little people pouring out. They surrounded a grey cow (_mart glas_)
belonging to him and drove it into the knoll. Not one busied himself
in doing this more than Luran himself; he was, according to the Gaelic
expression, ‘as one and as two’ (_mar a h-aon ’s mar a dhà_) in his
exertions. The cow was killed and skinned. An old Elf, a tailor sitting
in the upper part of the brugh, with a needle in the right lappel of
his coat, was forcibly caught hold of, stuffed into the cow’s hide,
and sewn up. He was then taken to the door and rolled down the slope.
Festivities commenced, and whoever might be on the floor dancing,
Luran was sure to be. He was ‘as one and as two’ at the dance, as he
had been at driving the cow. A number of gorgeous cups and dishes were
put on the table, and Luran, resolving to make up for the loss of the
grey cow, watched his opportunity and made off with one of the cups
(_còrn_). The Fairies observed him and started in pursuit. He heard one
of them remark:
“Not swift would be Luran
If it were not the hardness of his bread.”[14]
His pursuers were likely to overtake him, when a friendly voice called
out:
“Luran, Luran Black,
Betake thee to the black stones of the shore.”[15]
Below high water mark, no Fairy, ghost, or demon can come, and, acting
on the friendly advice, Luran reached the shore, and keeping below
tide mark made his way home in safety. He heard the outcries of the
person who had called out to him (probably a former acquaintance who
had been taken by ‘the people’) being belaboured by the Fairies for
his ill-timed officiousness. Next morning, the grey cow was found
lying dead with its feet in the air, at the foot of the Culver, and
Luran said that a needle would be found in its right shoulder. On this
proving to be the case, he allowed none of the flesh to be eaten, and
threw it out of the house.
One of the fields, tilled in common by Luran and two neighbours, was
every year, when ripe, reaped by the Fairies in one night, and the
benefit of the crop disappeared. An old man was consulted, and he
undertook to watch the crop. He saw the shïen of Corryvulin open, and
a troop of people coming out. There was an old man at their head, who
put the company in order, some to shear, some to bind the sheaves, and
some to make stooks. On the word of command being given, the field was
reaped in a wonderfully short time. The watcher, calling aloud, counted
the reapers. The Fairies never troubled the field again.
Their persecution of Luran did not, however, cease. While on his way to
Inveraray Castle, with his Fairy cup, he was lifted mysteriously with
his treasure out of the boat, in which he was taking his passage, and
was never seen or heard of after.
According to another Ardnamurchan version, Luran was a butler boy in
Mingarry Castle. One night he entered a Fairy dwelling, and found the
company within feasting and making merry. A shining cup, called _an
cupa cearrarach_, was produced, and whatever liquor the person having
it in his hand wished for and named, came up within it. Whenever a
dainty appeared on the table, Luran was asked, “Did you ever see the
like of that in Mingarry Castle?” At last, the butler boy wished the
cup to be full of water, and throwing its contents on the lights, and
extinguishing them, ran away with it in his hand. The Fairies gave
chase. Some one among them called out to Luran to make for the shore.
He reached the friendly shelter, and made his way below high-water mark
to the castle, which he entered by a stair leading to the sea. The cup
remained long in Mingarry Castle, but was at last lost in a boat that
sank at Mail Point (_Rutha Mhàil_).
A Tiree version of the tale says that Luran entered an open Fairy
dwelling (_brugh_), where he found the inmates asleep, and a large
cauldron, or copper, standing on the floor. He took up the kettle, and
made off with it. When going out at the door, the cauldron struck one
of the door-posts, and made a ringing noise. The Fairies, sixteen men
in number, started out of sleep, and gave chase. As they pressed on
Luran, one of them (probably a friend who had at one time been ‘taken’)
called out, “Luran, Luran, make for the black stones of the shore.” He
did so, and made his escape. It was then the Fairies remarked: “Luran
would be swift if it were not the hardness of his bread. If Luran had
warm milk and soft barley bread, not one among the sixteen of us could
catch him.”
According to the Lochaber story, the Fairies stole a white cow from a
farmer, and every night took it back again to pasture on his corn. He
chased them with his dog Luran, but they threw bread behind them, which
the dog loitered to devour, so that it never overtook the white cow.
The Fairies were heard saying among themselves, “Swift would be Luran
if it were not the hardness of his bread. If Luran got bread singed
and twice turned, it would catch the white cow.” The field where this
occurred is known as the Field of the White Cow (_acha na bò bàin_),
above Brackletter, in Lochaber.
According to a Skye version, the Fairies came to take with them the
benefit (_toradh_) of the farmer’s land, but his dog Luran drove them
away. One night they were overheard saying, “Swift would be Luran if it
were not the hardness of his bread. If thin porridge were Luran’s food,
deer would not overtake Luran.” Next day thin porridge, or ‘crowdie,’
was given to Luran, and it ate too much, and could not run at all. The
Fairies got away, laughing heartily at the success of their trick.
In Craignish, Argyllshire, Luran was a dog, old, and unable to devour
quickly the bread thrown it by the Fairies. There are, no doubt, many
other versions of the story current, but these are sufficient to show
the want of uniformity in popular tales of this kind.
THE CUP OF THE MACLEODS OF RAASA.
In Raasa, a man, named Hugh, entered a Fairy dwelling where there was
feasting going on. The Fairies welcomed him heartily, and pledged his
health. “Here’s to you, Hugh,” “I drink to you, Hugh” (_cleoch ort,
Eoghain_), was to be heard on every side. He was offered drink in
a fine glittering cup. When he got the cup in his hands he ran off
with it. The Fairies let loose one of their dogs after him. He made
his escape, and heard the Fairies calling back the dog by its name
of “Farvann” (_Farbhann! Farbhann!_). The cup long remained in the
possession of the Macleods of Raasa.
THE FAIRIES ON FINLAY’S SANDBANK.
The sandbank of this name (_Bac Fhionnlaidh_) on the farm of
Ballevulin, in Tiree, was at one time a noted Fairy residence, but has
since been blown level with the ground. It caused surprise to many that
no traces of the Fairies were found in it. Its Fairy tenants were at
one time in the habit of sending every evening to the house of a smith
in the neighbourhood for the loan of a kettle (_iasad coire_). The
smith, when giving it, always said:
“A smith’s due is coals,
And to send cold iron out;
A cauldron’s due is a bone,
And to come safe back.”[16]
Under the power of this rhyme the cauldron was restored safely before
morning. One evening the smith was from home, and his wife, when the
Fairies came for the usual loan, never thought of saying the rhyme.
In consequence the cauldron was not returned. On finding this out the
smith scolded savagely, and his wife, irritated by his reproaches,
rushed away for the kettle. She found the brugh open, went in, and (as
is recommended in such cases), without saying a word, snatched up the
cauldron and made off with it. When going out at the door she heard one
of the Fairies calling out:
“Thou dumb sharp one, thou dumb sharp,
That came from the land of the dead,
And drove the cauldron from the brugh—
Undo the Knot, and lose the Rough.”[17]
She succeeded in getting home before the Rough, the Fairy dog,
overtook her, and the Fairies never again came for the loan of the
kettle.
This story is given, in a slightly different form, by Mr. Campbell, in
his _Tales of the West Highlands_ (Vol. ii., p. 44), and the scene is
laid in Sanntrai, an island near Barra. The above version was heard in
Tiree by the writer, several years before he saw Mr. Campbell’s book.
There is no reason to suppose the story belongs originally either to
Tiree or Barra. It is but an illustration of the tendency of popular
tales to localize themselves where they are told.
PENNYGOWN FAIRIES.
A green mound, near the village of Pennygown (_Peigh’nn-a-ghobhann_),
in the Parish of Salen, Mull, was at one time occupied by a benevolent
company of Fairies. People had only to leave at night on the hillock
the materials for any work they wanted done, as wool to be spun,
thread for weaving, etc., telling what was wanted, and before morning
the work was finished. One night a wag left the wood of a fishing-net
buoy, a short, thick piece of wood, with a request to have it made
into a ship’s mast. The Fairies were heard toiling all night, and
singing, “Short life and ill-luck attend the man who asked us to make
a long ship’s big mast from the wood of a fishing-net buoy.”[18] In
the morning the work was not done, and these Fairies never after did
anything for any one.
BEN LOMOND FAIRIES.
A company of Fairies lived near the Green Loch (_Lochan Uaine_), on
Ben Lomond. Whatever was left overnight near the loch—cloth, wool,
or thread—was dyed by them of any desired colour before morning. A
specimen of the desired colour had to be left at the same time. A
person left a quantity of undyed thread, and a piece of black and
white twisted thread along with it, to show that he wanted part of the
hank black and part white. The Fairies thought the pattern was to be
followed, and the work done at one and the same dyeing. Not being able
to do this, they never dyed any more.
CALLUM CLARK AND HIS SORE LEG.
Some six generations ago there lived at Port Vista (_Port Bhissta_),
in Tiree, a dark, fierce man, known as Big Malcolm Clark (_Callum mòr
mac-a-Chleirich_). He was a very strong man, and in his brutal violence
produced the death of several people. Tradition also says of him that
he killed a water-horse, and fought a Banshi with a horse-rib at the
long hollow, covered in winter with water, called the _Léig_. In this
encounter his own little finger was broken. When sharpening knives, old
women in Tiree said, “Friday in Clark’s town” (_Di-haoine am baile
mhic-a-Chleirich_), with the object of making him and his the objects
of Fairy wrath. One evening, as he was driving a tether-pin into a
hillock, a head was popped up out of the ground, and told him to take
some other place for securing his beast, as he was letting the rain
into ‘their’ dwelling. Some time after this he had a painfully sore leg
(_bha i gu dòruinneach doirbh_). He went to the shï-en, where the head
had appeared, and, finding it open, entered in search of a cure for his
leg. The Fairies told him to put ‘earth on the earth’ (_Cuir an talamh
air an talamh_). He applied every kind of earth he could think of to
the leg, but without effect. At the end of three months he went again
to the hillock, and when entering put steel (_cruaidh_) in the door.
He was told to go out, but he would not, nor would he withdraw the
steel till told the proper remedy. At last he was told to apply the red
clay of a small loch in the neighbourhood (_criadh ruadh Lochan ni’h
fhonhairle_). He did so, and the leg was cured.
THE YOUNG MAN IN THE FAIRY KNOLL.
Two young men, coming home after nightfall on Hallowe’en, each with a
jar of whisky on his back, heard music by the roadside, and, seeing
a dwelling open and illuminated, and dancing and merriment going on
within, entered. One of them joined the dancers, without as much as
waiting to lay down the burden he was carrying. The other, suspecting
the place and company, stuck a needle in the door as he entered, and
got away when he liked. That day twelvemonths he came back for his
companion, and found him still dancing with the jar of whisky on his
back. Though more than half-dead with fatigue, the enchanted dancer
begged to be allowed to finish the reel. When brought to the open-air
he was only skin and bone.
This tale is localized in the Ferintosh district, and at the Slope of
Big Stones (_Leathad nan Clacha mòra_) in Harris. In Argyllshire people
say it happened in the north. In the Ferintosh story only one of the
young men entered the brugh, and the door immediately closed. The other
lay under suspicion of having murdered his companion, but, by advice
of an old man, went to the same place on the same night the following
year, and by putting steel in the door of the Fairy dwelling, which he
found open, recovered his companion. In the Harris story, the young men
were a bridegroom and his brother-in-law, bringing home whisky for the
marriage.
Two young men in Iona were coming in the evening from fishing on the
rocks. On their way, when passing, they found the shï-en of that island
open, and entered. One of them joined the dancers, without waiting
to lay down the string of fish he had in his hand. The other stuck a
fish-hook in the door, and when he wished made his escape. He came
back for his companion that day twelvemonths, and found him still
dancing with the string of fish in his hand. On taking him to the open
air the fish dropped from the string, rotten.
Donald, who at one time carried on foot the mails from Tobermory,
in Mull, to Grass Point Ferry (_Ru-an-fhiarain_), where the mail
service crosses to the mainland, was a good deal given to drink, and
consequently to loitering by the way. He once lay down to have a quiet
sleep near a Fairy-haunted rock above Drimfin. He saw the rock open,
and a flood of light pouring out at the door. A little man came to him
and said in English, “Come in to the ball, Donald,” but Donald fled,
and never stopped till he reached the houses at Tobermory, two miles
off. He said he heard the whizz and rustling of the Fairies after
him the whole way. The incident caused a good deal of talk in the
neighbourhood, and Donald and his fright were made the subject of some
doggerel verse, in which the Fairy invitation is thus given:
“Rise, rise, rise, Donald,
Rise, Donald, was the call,
Rise up now, Donald,
Come in, Donald, to the ball.”
It is well known that Highland Fairies, who speak English, are the most
dangerous of any.
A young man was sent for the loan of a sieve, and, mistaking his way,
entered a brugh, which was that evening open. He found there two women
grinding at a handmill, two women baking, and a mixed party dancing on
the floor. He was invited to sit down, “Farquhar MacNeill, be seated”
(_Fhearchair ’ie Neill, bi ’d shuidhe_). He thought he would first
have a reel with the dancers. He forgot all about the sieve, and lost
all desire to leave the company he was in. One night he accompanied
the band among whom he had fallen on one of its expeditions, and after
careering through the skies, stuck in the roof of a house. Looking down
the chimney (_fàr-leus_), he saw a woman dandling a child, and, struck
with the sight, exclaimed, “God bless you” (_Dia gu d’bheannachadh_).
Whenever he pronounced the Holy Name he was disenchanted, and tumbled
down the chimney! On coming to himself he went in search of his
relatives. No one could tell him anything about them. At last he saw,
thatching a house, an old man, so grey and thin he took him for a patch
of mist resting on the house-top. He went and made inquiries of him.
The old man knew nothing of the parties asked for, but said perhaps
his father did. Amazed, the young man asked him if his father was
alive, and on being told he was, and where to find him, entered the
house. He there found a very venerable man sitting in a chair by the
fire, twisting a straw-rope for the thatching of the house (_snìomh
sìomain_). This man also, on being questioned, said he knew nothing
of the people, but perhaps his father did. The father referred to was
lying in bed, a little shrunken man, and he in like manner referred to
his father. This remote ancestor, being too weak to stand, was found in
a purse (_sporran_) suspended at the end of the bed. On being taken out
and questioned, the wizened creature said, “I did not know the people
myself, but I often heard my father speaking of them.” On hearing this
the young man crumbled in pieces, and fell down a bundle of bones
(_cual chnàmh_).
The incident of the very aged people forms part of some versions of
the story, “How the Great Description (a man’s name) was put to Death”
(_Mar a chaidh an Tuairisgeul mòr a chur gu bàs_). Another form is
that a stranger came to a house, and at the door found an old man
crying, because his father had thrashed him. He went in, and asking the
father why he had thrashed his aged son, was told it was because the
grandfather had been there the day before, and the fellow had not the
manners to put his hand in his bonnet to him!
BLACK WILLIAM THE PIPER.
William M‘Kenzie was weaver to the Laird of Barcaldine. He and a friend
were going home with two gallons of whisky in jars strapped on their
backs. They saw a hillock open and illuminated, and entered. William’s
companion stuck a knife in the door when entering. They found inside
an old man playing the bagpipes, and a company of dancers on the floor.
William danced one reel, and then another, till his companion got tired
waiting, and left. When, after several days, M‘Kenzie did not turn up,
the other was accused of having murdered him, and was advised, if his
story was true, to get spades and dig into the hillock for his missing
friend. A year’s delay was given, and when the hillock was entered
M‘Kenzie was found still dancing on the floor. After this adventure he
became the chief weaver in the district; he did more work in a shorter
time than any other. At the first throw of the shuttle he said, “I and
another one are here” (_mise ’s fear eile so!_). He also began to make
pipes, but though a better weaver and piper than he had been before,
he never prospered. He became known as “Black William of the Pipes”
(_Uilleam du na pìoba_).
It is said in Sutherlandshire that a weaver, getting a shuttle from the
Fairies, can go through three times as much work as another man. (Cf.
Tale of M‘Crimmon, p. 139.)
THE HARRIS WOMAN AND HER BAKING.
A woman in Harris was passing _Creag Mhanuis_, a rock having on its
face the appearance of a door, which she saw opening, and a woman
dressed in green standing before it, who called to her to come in
to see a sick person. The woman was very unwilling to go, but was
compelled, and went in without taking any precaution. She found herself
among a large company, for whom she was immediately to begin baking
bread, and was told that when the quantity of meal, not very large,
given her was entirely used, she would be allowed to go away. She began
to bake, and made all possible haste to finish the work, but the more
she strove the less appearance there was of the labour being finished,
and her courage failed when day after day passed, leaving her where
she began. At last, after a long time, the whole company left for the
outer world, leaving her, as she thought, alone. When the last tramp of
their footsteps could no longer be heard, she was startled by hearing a
groan. On looking through an opening which she found in the side of the
dwelling, she saw a bed-ridden old man, who, on seeing her head in the
opening, said, “What sent you here?” “I did not come by my own will,”
she replied. “I was made to come to attend to a sick person.” He then
asked what work was given her to do. She told him, and how the baking
was never likely to be finished. He said she must begin again, and that
she was not to put the dusting meal (_an fhallaid_) at any time back
among the baking. She did as he told her, when she found her stock
of meal soon exhausted, and she got out and away before the others
returned, much to their discomfiture.
A woman in Skye was taken to see a sick person in a _dùn_, and after
attending to her patient, she saw a number of women in green dresses
coming in and getting a loan of meal. They took the meal from a skin
bag (_balgan_), which seemed as if it would never be exhausted. The
woman asked to be sent home, and was promised to be allowed to go,
on baking the meal left in the bag, and spinning a tuft of wool on a
distaff handed to her. She baked away, but could not exhaust the meal
bag; and spun, but seemed never nearer the end of her task. A woman
came in, and advised her to “put the remnant of the meal she baked
into the little bag, and to spin the tuft upon the distaff as the
sheep bites the hillock”[19]—_i.e._, to draw the wool in small tufts,
like sheep bites, from the distaff. On doing this, the task was soon
finished, the Fairies saying, “A blessing rest on you, but a curse on
the mouth that taught you.”[20] On coming out, the woman found she had
been in the _dùn_ for seven years.
LIFTED BY THE FAIRIES.
Black Donald of the Multitude (_Dòmhnull du an t-sluaigh_), as he was
ever afterwards known, was ploughing on the farm of Baile-pheutrais,
in the island of Tiree, when a heavy shower came on from the west. In
these days it required at least two persons to work a plough, one to
hold it, and one to lead the horses. Donald’s companion took shelter to
the lee of the team. When the shower passed, Donald himself was nowhere
to be found, nor was he seen again till evening. He then came from
an easterly direction, with his coat on his arm. He said the Fairies
had taken him in an Eddy wind to the islands to the north—Coll, Skye,
etc. In proof of this, he told that a person (naming him) was dead in
Coll, and people would be across next day for whiskey for the funeral
to Kennovay, a village on the other side of Bally-pheutrais, where
smuggling was carried on at the time. This turned out to be the case.
Donald said he had done no harm while away, except that the Fairies
had made him throw an arrow at, and kill, a speckled cow in Skye. When
crossing the sea he was in great terror lest he should fall.
_Nial Scrob_ (Neil the Scrub), a native of Uist, was on certain days
lifted by the Fairies and taken to Tiree, and other islands of the
Hebrides, at least so he said himself. Once he came to Saälun, a
village near the north-east end of Tiree, and at the fourth house in
the village was made to throw the Fairy arrow. There is an old saying—
“Shut the north window,
And quickly close the window to the south;
And shut the window facing west,
Evil never came from the east.”[21]
And the west window was this night left open. The arrow came through
the open window, and struck on the shoulder a handsome, strong,
healthy woman of the name of M‘Lean, who sat singing cheerfully at her
work. Her hand fell powerless by her side, and before morning she was
dead. Neil afterwards told that he was the party whom the Fairies had
compelled to do the mischief. In this, and similar stories, it must
be understood that, according to popular belief, the woman was taken
away by the Fairies, and may still be among them; only her semblance
remained and was buried.
About twenty years ago a cooper, employed on board a ship, was landed
at Martin’s Isle (_Eilein Mhàrtiunn_), near Coigeach, in Ross-shire, to
cut brooms. He traversed the islet, and then somehow fell asleep. He
felt as if something were pushing him, and, on awakening, found himself
in the island of Rona, ten miles off. He cut the brooms, and a shower
of rain coming on, again fell asleep. On awaking he found himself back
in Martin’s Isle. He could only, it is argued, have been transported
back and forward by the Fairies.
A seer gifted with the second sight (_taibhseis_), resident at Bousd,
in the east end of Coll, was frequently lifted by Fairies, that staid
in a hillock in his neighbourhood. On one occasion they took him to the
sea-girt rock, called _Eileirig_, and after diverting themselves with
him for an hour or two took him home again. So he said himself.
A man who went to fish on Saturday afternoon at a rock in Kinnavara
hill (_Beinn Chinn-a-Bharra_), the extreme _west_ point of Tiree,
did not make his appearance at home until six o’clock the following
morning. He said that after leaving the rock the evening before, he
remembered nothing but passing a number of beaches. The white beaches
of Tiree, from the surrounding land being a dead level, are at night
the most noticeable features in the scenery. On coming to his senses,
he found himself on the top of the Dùn at Caolis in the extreme _east_
end of the island, twelve miles from his starting point.
A few years ago, a man in Lismore, travelling at night with a web
of cloth on his shoulder, lost his way, walked on all night without
knowing where he was going, and in the morning was found among rocks,
where he could never have made his way alone. He could give no account
of himself, and his wanderings were universally ascribed to the Fairies.
Red Donald of the Fairies (_Dòmhnull ruadh nan sìthehean_), as he was
called (and the name stuck to him all his life), used when a boy to see
the Fairies. Being herd at the Spital (_an Spideal_) above Dalnacardoch
in Perthshire, he was taken by them to his father’s house at Ardlàraich
in Rannoch, a distance of a dozen miles, through the night. In the
morning he was found sitting at the fireside, and as the door was
barred, he must have been let in by the chimney.
An old man in Achabeg, Morvern, went one night on a gossiping visit
(_céilidh_) to a neighbour’s house. It was winter time, and a river
near the place was in flood, which, in the case of a mountain torrent,
means that it was impassable. The old man did not return home that
night, and next morning was found near the shï-en of _Luran na
leaghadh_ in Sasory, some distance across the river. He could give no
account of how he got there, only that when on his way home a storm
came about him, and on coming to himself he was where they had found
him.
When Dr. M‘Laurin was tenant of Invererragan, near Connal Ferry in
Benderloch, at the end of last century, “_Calum Clever_,” who derived
his name from his skill in singing tunes and expedition in travelling
(gifts given him by the Fairies), stayed with him whole nights. The
doctor sent him to Fort William with a letter, telling him to procure
the assistance of “his own people” and be back with an immediate
answer. Calum asked as much time as one game at shinty (_aon taghal air
a bhall_) would take, and was back in the evening before the game was
finished. He never could have travelled the distance without Fairy aid.
FAIRIES COMING TO HOUSES.
Ewen, son of Allister Og, was shepherd in the Dell of Banks (_Coira
Bhaeaidh_), at the south end of Loch Ericht (_Loch Eireachd_), and
stayed alone in a bothy far away from other houses. In the evenings he
put the porridge for his supper out to cool on the top of the double
wall (_anainn_) of the hut. On successive evenings he found it pitted
and pecked all round on the margin, as if by little birds or heavy
rain-drops. He watched, and saw little people coming and pecking at
his porridge. He made little dishes and spoons of wood, and left them
beside his own dish. The Fairies, understanding his meaning, took to
using these, and let the big dish alone. At last they became quite
familiar with Ewen, entered the hut, and stayed whole evenings with
him. One evening a woman came with them. There was no dish for her,
and she sat on the other side of the house, saying never a word, but
grinning and making faces at the shepherd whenever he looked her way.
Ewen at last asked her, “Are you always like that, my lively maid?”[22]
Owing to the absurdity of the question, or Ewen’s failure to understand
that the grinning was a hint for food, the Fairies never came again.
The Elves came to a house at night, and finding it closed, called upon
‘Feet-water’ (_uisge nan cas_) _i.e._, water in which the feet had been
washed, to come and open the door. The water answered from somewhere
near, that it could not, as it had been poured out. They called on the
Band of the Spinning Wheel to open the door, but it answered it could
not, as it had been thrown off the wheel. They called upon Little
Cake, but it could not move, as there was a hole through it and a live
coal on the top of it. They called upon the ‘raking’ coal (_smàladh an
teine_), but the fire had been secured in a proper manner, to keep it
alive all night. This is a tale not localized anywhere, but universally
known.
A man observed a band of people dressed in green coming toward the
house, and recognising them to be Fairies, ran in great terror, shut
and barred the door, and hid himself below the bed. The Fairies,
however, came through the keyhole, and danced on the floor, singing.
The song extended to several verses, to the effect that no kind of
house could keep out the Fairies, not a turf house (_tigh phloc_), nor
a stone house (_tigh cloiche_), etc.
The Fairies staying in Dunruilg came to assist a farmer in the vicinity
in weaving and preparing cloth, and, after finishing the work in a
wonderfully short space of time, called for more work. To get rid of
his officious assistants, the farmer called outside the door that
Dunruilg was on fire.[23] The Fairies immediately rushed out in great
haste, and never came back. Of this story several versions are given in
the _Tales of the West Highlands_ (ii. 52-4). In some form or other it
is extensively known, and in every locality the scene is laid in its
own neighbourhood. In Mull the Fairy residence is said to have been the
bold headland in the south-west of the island known as _Tun Bhuirg_.
Some say the Elves were brought to the house by two old women, who were
tired spinning, and incautiously said they wished all the people in
Tòn Bhuirg were there to assist. According to others, the Elves were
in the habit of coming to Tàpull House in the Ross of Mull, and their
excessive zeal made them very unwelcome. In Skye the event is said to
have occurred at Dùn Bhuirbh. There are two places of the name, one in
Lyndale, and one in _Beinn-an-ùine_, near _Druimuighe_, above Portree.
The rhyme they had when they came to Tapull is known as “The rhyme of
the goodman of Tapull’s servants” (_Rann gillean fir Thàbuill_).
“Let me comb, card, tease, spin,
Get a weaving loom quick,
Water for fulling on the fire,
Work, work, work.”[24]
The cry they raised when going away, in the Skye version, runs:
“Dunsuirv on fire,
Without dog or man,
My balls of thread
And my bags of meal.”[25]
A man, on the farm of Kennovay in Tiree, saw the Fairies about twelve
o’clock at night enter the house, glide round the room, and go out
again. They said and did nothing.
THE LOWLAND FAIRIES.
The ‘people’ had several dwellings near the village of Largs[26] (_Na
Leargun Gallta_, the slopes-near-the-sea of the strangers), on the
coast of Ayrshire (see Introduction to Campbell’s _Tales of the West
Highlands_).
Knock Hill was full of _elves_, and the site of the old Tron Tree, now
the centre of the village, was a favourite haunt. A sow, belonging to
the man who cut down the Tron Tree, was found dead in the byre next
morning. A hawker, with a basket of crockery, was met near the Noddle
Burn by a Fairy woman. She asked him for a bowl she pointed out in his
basket, but he refused to give it. On coming to the top of a brae near
the village, his basket tumbled, and all his dishes ran on edge to
the foot of the incline. None were broken but the one which had been
refused to the Fairy. It was found in fragments. The same day, however,
the hawker found a treasure that made up for his loss. That, said the
person from whom the story was heard, was the custom of the Fairies;
they never took anything without making up for it some other way.
On market-days they went about stealing here and there a little of the
wool or yarn exposed for sale. A present of shoes and stockings made
them give great assistance at out-door work. A man was taken by them
to a pump near the Haylee Toll, where he danced all night with them. A
headless man was one of the company.
They often came to people’s houses at night, and were heard washing
their children. If they found no water in the house, they washed them
in _kit_, or sowen water. They were fond of spinning and weaving, and,
if chid or thwarted, cut the weaver’s webs at night. They one night
dropped a child’s cap, a very pretty article, in a weaver’s house, to
which they had come to get the child washed. They, however, took it
away the following night.
In another instance, a band of four was heard crossing over the
bedclothes, two women going first and laughing, and two men following
and expressing their wonder if the women were far before them.
A man cut a slip from an ash-tree growing near a Fairy dwelling. On his
way home in the evening he stumbled and fell. He heard the Fairies give
a laugh at his mishap. Through the night he was hoisted away, and could
tell nothing of what happened till in the morning he found himself in
the byre, astride on a cow, and holding on by its horns.
These are genuine popular tales of the South of Scotland, which the
writer fell in with in Largs. He heard them from a servant girl, a
native of the place. They are quoted as illustrations of the vitality
of the creed. They are not stories of the Highlands, but are quite
analogous. The student of such mythologies will recognize in them a
semblance to the Fairy tales of the North of Ireland.
FAIRIES STEALING WOMEN AND CHILDREN.
The _machair_ (or links) adjoining the hill of Kennavarra, the extreme
south-west point of Tiree, is after sunset one of the most solitary
and weird places conceivable. The hill on its northern side, facing
the Skerryvore lighthouse, twelve miles off, consists of precipices,
descending sheer down for upwards of a hundred feet, with frightful
chasms, where countless sea-birds make their nests, and at the base
of which the Atlantic rolls with an incessant noise, which becomes
deafening in bad weather. The hill juts into the sea, and the coast,
from each side of its inner end, trends away in beaches, which, like
all the beaches in the island, have, after nightfall, from their
whiteness and loneliness, a strange and ghostly look. On the landward
side, the level country stretches in a low dark line towards the
horizon; little is to be seen and the stillness is unbroken, save by
the sound of the surf rolling on the beach and thundering in the chasms
of the hill. It is not, therefore, wonderful that these links should be
haunted by the Fairies, or the timid wayfarer there meet the big black
Elfin dog prowling among the sand-banks, hear its unearthly baying in
the stormy night-wind, and in the uncertain light and the squattering
of wildfowl, hear in wintry pools the Banshi washing the garments of
those soon to die.
Some seventy or eighty years ago the herdsman who had charge of the
cattle on this pasture, went to a marriage in the neighbouring village
of Balephuill (mud-town), leaving his mother and a young child alone
in the house. The night was wild and stormy; there was heavy rain, and
every pool and stream was more than ordinarily swollen. His mother sat
waiting his return, and two women, whom she knew to be Fairies, came to
steal the child. They stood between the outer and inner doors and were
so tall their heads appeared above the partition beam. One was taller
than the other. They were accompanied by a dog, and stood one on each
side, having a hold of an ear and scratching it. Some say there was a
crowd of ‘little people’ behind to assist in taking the child away.
For security the woman placed it between herself and the fire, but her
precautions were not quite successful. From that night the child was
slightly fatuous, ‘a half idiot’ (_leth oinseach_). The old woman, it
is said, had the second sight.
A shepherd, living with his wife in a bothy far away among the hills
of Mull, had an addition to his family. He was obliged to go for
assistance to the nearest houses, and his wife asked him, before
leaving her and her babe alone, to place the table beside the bed, and
a portion of the various kinds of food in the house on it, and also to
put the smoothing-iron below the front of the bed and the reaping-hook
(_buanaiche_) in the window. Soon after he had left the wife heard a
suppressed muttering on the floor and a voice urging some one to go up
and steal the child. The other answered that butter from the cow that
ate the pearlwort (_mòthan_) was on the table, that iron was below the
bed, and the ‘reaper’ in the window, how could he get the child away?
As the reward of his wife’s providence and good sense the shepherd
found herself and child safe on his return.
A man in Morvern, known by the nickname of the ‘Marquis’ (_a
mor’aire_), left a band of women watching his wife and infant child.
On returning at night, he found the fire gone out, and the women fast
asleep. By the time he had rekindled the fire he saw a Banshi entering
and making for the bed where his wife and child were. He took a faggot
from the fire and threw it at her. A flame gleamed about his eyes and
he saw the Fairy woman no more. His wife declared that she felt at the
time like one in a nightmare (_trom-a-lidhe_); she heard voices calling
upon her to go out, and felt an irresistible inclination to obey.
A woman from Rahoy (_Ra-thuaith_) on Loch Sunartside was taken with
her babe to Ben Iadain (_Beinn Iadain_), a lofty hill in the parish
of Morvern, rising to a height of above 2000 feet, and at one time of
great note as an abode of the Fairies. Her husband had laid himself
down for a few minutes’ rest in the front of the bed, and fallen
asleep. When he awoke his wife and child were gone. They were taken,
the woman afterwards told, to the ‘Black Door’ (_a chòmhla dhu_), as
the spot forming the Fairy entrance into the interior of the mountain
is called. On entering, they found a large company of men, women, and
children. A fair-haired boy among them came and warned the woman not to
eat any food the Fairies might offer, but to hide it in her clothes. He
said they had got his own mother to eat this food, and in consequence
he could not now get her away. Finding the food offered her was
slighted, the head Fairy sent off a party to bring a certain man’s cow.
They came back saying they could not touch the cow as its right knee
was resting on the plant _bruchorcan_ (dirk grass). They were sent for
another cow, but they came back saying they could not touch it either,
as the dairymaid, after milking it, had struck it with the shackle
or cow-spancel (_burach_). That same night the woman appeared to her
husband in his dreams, telling him where she was, and that by going for
her and taking the black silk handkerchief she wore on her marriage
day, with three knots tied upon it, he might recover her. He tied the
knots, took the handkerchief and a friend with him, entered the hill at
the Black Door, and recovered his wife and child. The white-headed boy
accompanied them for some distance from the Black Door, but returned to
the hill, and is there still in all probability.
Another wife was taken from the neighbourhood of Castle _Lionnaig_,
near Loch Aline (_Loch Aluinn_, the pretty loch), in the same parish,
to the same hill. She was placed in the lap of a gigantic hag, who told
her it was useless to attempt escaping; her arms would close round her
“As the ivy to the rock,
And as the honeysuckle to the tree;
As the flesh round the bone,
And as the bone round the marrow.”[27]
The woman answered that she wished it was an armful of dirt the Fairy
held. In saying so, she made use of a very coarse, unseemly word, and,
as no such language is tolerated among the Fairies, the big woman
called to take the vile wretch away, and leave her in the hollow in
which she had been found, (_an lag san d’ fhuaradh i_) which was done.
A man in Balemartin, on the south side of Tiree (_air an leige deas_),
whose wife had died in childbed, was sitting one night soon after with
a bunch of keys in his hands. He saw his wife passing and repassing
him several times. The following night she came to him in his dreams,
and reproached him for not having thrown the bunch of keys at her, or
between her and the door, to keep the Fairies from taking her back with
them. He asked her to come another night, but she said she could not,
as the company she was with was removing that night to another brugh
far away.
Another, somewhere on the mainland of Argyllshire, suspecting his wife
had been stolen by Fairies, hauled her by the legs from bed, through
the fire, and out at the door. She there became a log of wood, and
serves as the threshold of a barn in the place to this day.
A woman, taken by the Fairies, was seen by a man, who looked in at the
door of a brugh, spinning and singing at her work.
A wife, taken in childbed, came to her husband in his sleep, and told
him that, by drawing a furrow thrice round a certain hillock sunwise
(_deiseal_) with the plough, he might recover her. He consulted his
neighbours, and in the end it was deemed as well not to attend to a
dream of one’s sleep (_bruadar cadail_). He consequently did not draw
the furrow, and never recovered his wife.
A child was taken by the Fairies from Killichrenan
(_Cill-a-Chreunain_), near Loch Awe, to the shï-en in Nant Wood
(_Coill’ an Eannd_). It was got back by the father drawing a furrow
round the hillock with the plough. He had not gone far when he heard a
cry behind him, and on looking back found his child lying in the furrow.
A trampling as of a troop of horses came round a house, in which a
woman lay in childbed, and she and the child were taken away. At the
end of seven years her sister came upon an open Fairy hillock, and
thoughtlessly entered. She saw there her lost sister, with a child in
her arms, and was warned by her, in the lullaby song to the child, to
slip away out again.
“Little sister, little loving sister,
Rememberest thou the night of the horses?
Seven years since I was taken,
And one like me was never seen.
Ialai horro, horro,
Ialai horro hì.”[28]
READY WIT REPULSES THE FAIRIES.
A Fairy woman came to take away a child, and said to its mother, “Grey
is your child.” “Grey is the grass, and it grows,” was the ready
answer. “Heavy is your child,” said the Banshi. “Heavy is each fruitful
thing,” the mother replied. “Light is your child,” said the Banshi.
“Light is each happy worldly one,” said the mother, bursting into
singing and saying—
“Grey is the foliage, grey the flowers,
And grey the axe that has a handle,
And nought comes through the earth,
But has some greyness in its nature.”[29]
On finding herself outwitted the Banshi left.
A boy, a mere child, was left alone for a few minutes, in the islet of
Soa, near Tiree. The mother was making kelp there at the time, and in
her absence the Fairies came and gave the child’s legs such a twist
that it was lame (_liùgach_) ever after.
KINDNESS TO A NEGLECTED CHILD.
The Elves sometimes took care of neglected children. The herd who
tendered the Baile-phuill cattle on Heynist Hill sat down one day on
a green eminence (_cnoc_) in the hill, which had the reputation of
being tenanted by the Fairies. His son, a young child, was along with
him. He fell asleep, and when he awoke the child was away. He roused
himself, and vowed aloud, that unless his boy was restored he would not
leave a stone or clod of the hillock together. A voice from underground
answered that the child was safe at home with its mother, and they (the
‘people’) had taken it lest it should come to harm with the cold.
THE BRIDEGROOM’S BURIAL.
A young woman in Islay was promised in marriage to a rich neighbour,
and the marriage day was fixed. She had a sweetheart who, on hearing
this, said to a brother older than himself that if he had means to keep
a wedding feast he would run away with the bride. His brother promised
him all he had, being thirty-five gallons of whisky. On getting this,
the young man took the bride away, and gave a nuptial feast himself
that lasted a month. At the end of that time, when he was taking a walk
with his wife, an eddy wind was seen coming. As it passed the young man
was seized with sickness, which in a short time ended in his death.
Before his death his wife said to him, “If the dead have feeling, I
ordain that you be not a night absent from your bed.”[30] The night
after the funeral he came back, to the consternation of his wife. He
told her not to be alarmed, that he was still sound and healthy (_slàn
fallain_), that he had only been taken in the eddy by the Lady of the
Green Island (_Baintighearna ’n Eilein Uaiue_), and that by throwing a
dirk at the eddy wind, when next she encountered it, she would get him
back again. The wife threw a dirk at the next eddy wind she saw, and
her husband dropped at her feet. He told he had been with the light
people (_sluagh eutrom_), and in the tomb in which they supposed him
buried would be found only a log of alder wood (_maide fearna_). His
wife’s relatives were sent for, and they came, thinking the young widow
had lost her wits through grief. The grave was opened, and an alder
stick found in the coffin instead of the body proved the husband’s
account of his disappearance.
THE CROWING OF THE BLACK COCK.
A woman in Islay (the story was heard in Tiree) was taken by the
Fairies, leaving an infant who was baptised by the name of Julia
(_Sìle_). To appearance the mother died and was buried. Every night,
however, she came back, and was heard singing to her child. Her husband
watched one night and caught her. She told that by going to a hillock,
which she named, on a certain night he might recover her. He went,
taking with him, according to her instructions, a black cock born in
the busy time of year (_coileach du màrt_)[31] and a piece of steel
(_cruaidh_). He found the door of the brugh open, put steel in one of
the posts, entered, having the cock in his arms, and hid himself in
a corner. Towards morning the cock crew. The head or principal Fairy
caused a search to be made, and ‘Big Martin without clemency or mercy’
(_Martuinn Mòr gun iochd gun tròcair_) was found in the brugh. On
withdrawing the steel he was allowed to go home, and his wife along
with him.
THROWING THE ARROW.
A weaver at the Bridge of Awe (_Drochaid Atha_) was left a widower with
three or four children. He laboured at his trade all day, and when the
evening came, being a hard-working, industrious man, did odd jobs about
the house to maintain his helpless family. One clear moonlight, when
thatching his house with fern (_ranach_), he heard the rushing sound of
a high wind, and a multitude of little people settled on the housetop
and on the ground, like a flock of black starlings. He was told he
must go along with them to Glen Cannel in Mull, where they were going
for a woman. He refused to go unless he got whatever was foraged on
the expedition to himself. On arriving at Glen Cannel, the arrow was
given him to throw. Pretending to aim at the woman he threw it through
the window and killed a pet lamb. The animal at once came out through
the window, but he was told this would not do, he must throw again. He
did so, and the woman was taken away and a log of alder wood (_stoc
fearna_) was left in her place. The weaver claimed his agreement,
and the Fairies left the woman with him at the Bridge of Awe, saying
they would never again make the same paction with any man. She lived
happily with him and he had three children by her. A beggar came the
way and staid with him that night. The whole evening the beggar stared
at the wife in a manner that made his host at last ask him what he
meant. He said he had at one time been a farmer in Glen Cannel in
Mull, comfortable and well-to-do, but his wife having died, he had
since fallen into poverty, till he was now a beggar, and that the
weaver’s wife could be no other than the wife he had lost. Explanations
were entered into, and the beggar got his choice of the wife or the
children. He chose the former,[32] and again became prosperous in the
world.
THE WOMAN STOLEN FROM FRANCE.
“MacCallum of the Humming Noise” (_Mac Challum a Chrònain_), who
resided in Glen Etive subsequent to the ‘45, was the last to observe
the habits of the Fairies and ancient hunters. He ate three days’
allowance of food before setting out on his hunting expeditions, and
when he got hungry merely tightened his belt another hole. The Indians
of Labrador are said to do the same at the present day. These hunters
can go for nine days without food, merely tightening their belts
as they get thin. In MacCallum’s time, a woman was for seven years
observed among the deer of Ben Cruachan, as swift of foot and action
as the herd with which she consorted. A gathering was made to catch
her. The herd was surrounded by men and dogs, and on her being caught,
she was taken to Balinoe, where MacCallum resided. There were rings on
her fingers, from which it was ascertained that she came from France.
Inquiries were made, and she was sent home by a ship from Greenock. She
had been taken away in childbed doubtless by the Fairies. This story
was believed by the person from whom it was heard. He had heard it from
good authority, he said.
CHANGELINGS.
A young lad was sent for the loan of a corn sieve to a neighbour’s
house. He was a changeling, and in the house to which he went there was
another like himself. He found no one in but his fellow-elf. A woman,
in a closet close by, overheard the conversation of the two. The first
asked for the sieve, and the other replied, “Ask it in an honest way
(that is, in Fairy language) seeing I am alone.”[33] The first then
said (and his words have as much sense in English as in Gaelic):
“The muggle maggle
Wants the loan of the black luggle laggle,
To take the maggle from the grain.”[34]
The words are a ludicrous imitation of the sound made by the fan in
winnowing corn, and several versions of them exist.
A child, in Skye, ate such a quantity of food, people suspected it
could not be ‘canny.’ A man of skill was sent for, and on his saying a
rhyme over it, the changeling became an old man.
A changeling in Hianish (some say Sanndaig), Tiree, was driven away by
a man of skill who came, and, standing in the door, said:
“Red pig, red pig,
Red one-eared pig,
That Fin killed with the son of Luin,
And took on his back to Druim-derg.”[35]
Drim-derg, or the Red Ridge, is a common in the neighbourhood of
Hianish. Fin’s sword, ‘the son of Luin,’ was of such superior metal
that it cut through six feet of whatever substance was struck by it,
and an inch beyond. Its peculiar virtue was “never to leave a remnant
from its blow.” When the changeling heard the bare mention of it, with
the aversion of his race to steel, he jumped, like a fish out of the
water (_thug e iasg-leum as_), rushed out of the house and was never
seen again. The real child was found outside the house.
A woman was told by her neighbours that her child, which was not
thriving, was a changeling, and that she ought to throw it in the
river. The imp, frightened by the counsel, advised the contrary in an
expression, which is now proverbial, “Whether it be fat or lean, every
man should rear a calf for himself” (_Air dha bhi reamhar na caol, is
mairg nach beathaicheadh laogh dha fhéin_).
TAKING AWAY COWS AND SHEEP.
A farmer had two good cows that were seized one spring with some
unaccountable malady. They ate any amount of food given them, but
neither grew fat nor yielded milk. They lay on their sides and could
not be made to rise. An old man in the neighbourhood advised that they
should be hauled up the hill, and rolled down its steepest and longest
incline. The brutes, he said, were not the farmer’s cows at all, but
two old men (_bodaich_) the Fairies had substituted for them. The
farmer acted on this advice, and at the bottom of the descent, down
which the cows were sent rolling, nothing was found, neither cow nor
man, either dead or alive.
There are old people still living in Iona who remember a man driving a
nail into a bull that had fallen over a rock, to keep away the Fairies.
A man in Ruaig, Tiree, possessed of the second sight, saw a wether
sheep (_molt_) belonging to himself whirled through the sky, and was so
satisfied the Fairies had taken it in their eddy wind, that he did not,
when the animal was killed, eat any of its mutton.
DWELLINGS.
An old man kept a green hillock, near his house, on which he frequently
reclined in summer, very clean, sweeping away any filth or cow or horse
droppings he might find on it. One evening, as he sat on the hillock,
a little man, a stranger to him, came and thanked him for his care of
the hillock, and added, that if at any time the village cattle should
leave their enclosure during the night, he and his friends would show
their gratitude by keeping them from the old man’s crops. The village
in these days was in common, ridge about, and the Fairy promise, being
tested, was found good.
Of hills having the reputation of being tenanted by Fairies may
be mentioned Schiehallion (_Sith-chaillionn_), in Perthshire, and
Ben-y-ghloe (_Beinn a Ghlotha_); and in Argyllshire, _Sìthein na
Rapaich_, ‘the Fairy dwelling of tempestuous weather,’ in Morvern
and Dunniquoich (_Dùn Cuaich_, the Bowl-shaped hill) Dùn-deacainn
and Shien-sloy (_sìthein sluaigh_, the multitude’s residence), near
Inverary. The three latter hills are in sight of each other, and the
preference of the Fairies for the last is mentioned in a popular rhyme:
Dùn-deacainn is Dùn-cuaich
Sìthein sluaigh is Airde-slios;
Nam faighinnsa mo roghainn de ’n triùir
B’e mo rùn a bhi san t-slios.
At the head of Glen-Erochty (_Gleann-Eireochd-aidh_, the Shapely
glen), in Athol, in Perthshire, there is a mound known as _Càrn na
Sleabhach_, which at one time was of much repute as a Fairy haunt.
Alasdair Challum, a poor harmless person, who went about the country
making divinations for his entertainers by means of a small four-sided
spinning top (_dòduman_), was asked by a widow where her late
husband now was. Alasdair spun round his teetotum and, examining it
attentively, said, “He is a baggage horse to the Fairies in Slevach
Cairn, with a twisted willow withe in his mouth.”[36]
A native of the Island of Coll went to pull some wild-briar plants
(_fearra-dhris_). He tried to pull one growing in the face of a rock.
The first tug he gave he heard some one calling to him from the inside
of the rock, and he ran away without ever looking behind. To this day
he says no one need try to persuade him there are no Fairies, for he
heard them himself.
A shepherd at Lochaweside, coming home with a wedder sheep on his back,
saw an open cave in the face of a rock where he had never noticed a
cave before. He laid down his burden, and stepping over to the entrance
of the cave, stuck his knife into a fissure of the rock forming a side
of the entrance. He then leisurely looked in, and saw the cave full of
guns and arms and chests studded with brass nails, but no appearance of
tenants. Happening to turn his head for a moment to look at the sheep,
and seeing it about to move off, he allowed the knife to move from its
place. On looking again at the rock, he only saw water trickling from
the fissure from which the knife had been withdrawn.
A person who had a green knoll in front of his house and was in the
habit of throwing out dirty water at the door, was told by the Fairies
to remove the door to the other side of the house, as the water was
spoiling their furniture and utensils. He did this, and he and the
Fairies lived on good terms ever after.
In the evening a man was tethering his horse on a grassy mound. A
head appeared out of the ground, and told him to drive his tether pin
somewhere else, as he was letting the rain into their house, and had
nearly killed one of the inmates by driving the peg into his ear.
Beinn Feall is one of the most prominent hills in the Island of Coll.
It is highly esteemed for the excellence of its pasture, and was of old
much frequented by the Fairies. A fisherman going to his occupation
at night saw it covered with green silk, spread out to dry, and heard
all night the sound of a quern at work in the interior. On another
occasion, similar sounds were heard in the same hill, and voices
singing:
“Though good the haven we left,
Seven times better the haven we found.”[37]
A man who avoided tethering horse or cow on a Fairy hillock near his
house, or in any way breaking the green sward that covered it, was
rewarded by the Fairies driving his horse and cow to the lee of the
hillock in stormy nights.
FAIRY ASSISTANCE.
A man in Flodigarry, an islet near Skye, expressed a wish his corn were
reaped, though it should be by Fairy assistance. The Fairies came and
reaped the field in two nights. They were seen at work, seven score and
fifteen, or other large number. After reaping the field they called for
more work, and the man set them to empty the sea.
One of the chiefs of Dowart was hurried with his harvest, and likely
to lose his crop for want of shearers. He sent word through all Mull
for assistance. A little old man came and offered himself. He asked as
wages only the full of a straw-rope he had with him of corn when the
work was over. M‘Lean formed no high opinion of the little man, but
as the work was urgent and the remuneration trifling, he engaged his
services. He placed him along with another old man and an old woman on
a ridge by themselves, and told them never to heed though they should
be behind the rest, to take matters easy and not fatigue themselves.
The little man, however, soon made his assistants leave the way, and
set them to make sheaf-bands. He finished shearing that ridge before
the rest of the shearers were half-way with theirs, and no fault could
be found with the manner in which the work was done. M‘Lean would not
part with the little reaper till the end of harvest. Fuller payment
was offered for his excellent services, but he refused to take more
than had been bargained for. He began putting the corn in the rope, and
put in all that was in the field, then all that was in the stackyard,
and finally all that was in the barn. He said this would do just now,
tightened the rope, and lifted the burden on his back. He was setting
off with it, when M‘Lean, in despair, cried out, “Tuesday I ploughed,
Tuesday I sowed, Tuesday I reaped; Thou who did’st ordain the three
Tuesdays, suffer not all that is in the rope to leave me.” “The hand of
your father and grandfather be upon you!” said the little man, “it is
well that you spoke.”[38]
Another version of the tale was current in Morvern. A servant,
engaged in spring by a man who lived at _Aodienn Mòr_ (‘Big Face’) in
Liddesdale, when told to begin ploughing, merely thrust a walking-stick
into the ground, and, holding it to his nose, said the earth was not
yet ready (_cha robh an talamh air dàir fathast_). This went on till
the neighbours were more than half-finished with their spring work. His
master then peremptorily ordered the work to be done. By next morning
the whole Big Face was ploughed, sown, and harrowed. The shearing of
the crop was done in the same mysterious and expeditious manner. The
servant had the Association-craft, which secured the assistance of the
Fairies. When getting his wages he was like to take away the whole
crop, and was got rid of as in the previous version.
An old man in Còrnaig, Tiree, went to sow his croft, or piece of land.
He was scarce of seed oats, but putting the little he had in a circular
dish made of plaited straw, called _plàdar_, suspended from his
shoulder by a strap (_iris_), commenced operations. His son followed,
harrowing the seed. The old man went on sowing long after the son
expected the seed corn was exhausted. He made some remark expressive of
his wonder, and the old man said, “Evil befall you, why did you speak?
I might have finished the field if you had held your tongue, but now I
cannot go further,” and he stopped. The piece sown would properly take
four times as much seed as had been used.
A man in the Ross of Mull, about to sow his land, filled a sheet with
seed oats, and commenced. He went on sowing, but the sheet remained
full. At last a neighbour took notice of the strange phenomenon, and
said, “The face of your evil and iniquity be upon you, is the sheet
never to be empty?” When this was said a little brown bird leapt out
of the sheet, and the supply of corn ceased. The bird was called _Torc
Sona_, _i.e._ ‘Happy Hog,’ and when any of the man’s descendants fall
in with any luck they are asked if the _Torc Sona_ still follows the
family.
A man in the Braes of Portree, in Skye, with a large but weak family,
had his spring and harvest work done by the Fairies. No one could tell
how it was done, but somehow it was finished as soon as that of any of
his neighbours. All his family, however, grew up ‘peculiar in their
minds.’
THE BATTLE OF TRAI-GRUINARD.
On 5th August, 1598, one of the bloodiest battles in the annals of
clan feuds was fought at the head of Loch Gruinard, in Islay, between
Sir Lachlan Mor M‘Lean, of Dowart, and Sir James Macdonald, of Islay,
for possession of lands forfeited by the latter’s uncle, of which the
former had received a grant. Of the M‘Leans, Sir Lachlan and 80 of his
near kinsmen and 200 clansmen were killed; and of the Macdonalds, 30
were killed, and 60 wounded.[39] According to tradition, a trifling
looking little man came to Sir Lachlan, and offered his services for
the battle. The chief, who was himself of giant frame and strength,
answered contemptuously, he did not care which side the little man
might be on. The Elf then offered himself to Macdonald, who said he
would be glad of the assistance of a hundred like him. All day Sir
Lachlan, who was clothed from head to foot in armour of steel, was
followed by the little man, and on his once lifting the vizor of his
helmet an arrow struck him in the forehead at the division of the hair,
and came out at the back of his head. It proved to be one of those
arrows known as Elf-bolts. Macdonald was sorry for the death of his
rival, and after the battle made enquiry as to who had killed him.
“It was I” said the little man, “who killed your enemy; and unless
I had done so he would have killed you.” “What is your name?” asked
Macdonald. “I am called” he said, “_Du-sìth_” (_i.e._ Black Elf),[40]
“and you were better to have me with you than against you.”
DUINE SÌTH, MAN OF PEACE.
A wright in the island of Mull, on his way home in the evening from
work, got enveloped in a mist. He heard some one coming towards him
whistling. He entered into talk with the stranger, and was told, a
legacy would be left him, and would continue in the line of his direct
descendants to the third generation. His grandson is unmarried, and
well advanced in years; to the credit of the whistler’s prophecy.
Davie, a south country ploughman, or grieve, was brought to Tiree,
about the beginning of the present century, by the then Chamberlain
or ‘Baillie’ of the Island. Ploughing one day on Crossapol farm, he
saw before him in the furrow a very little man. Not understanding that
the diminutive creature was a Fairy, Davie cried out in broken Gaelic,
“What little man are you? Get out of that.”
A former gardener in Tìr Mhine (Meal Land) in Glenorchy, a good deal
given to drinking, was crossing Loch Awe one night in a boat alone. He
saw a little man sitting in the stern of the boat, and spoke to him
several times but received no answer. He at last struck at the little
man, and himself tumbled overboard. Now, asked the old woman, who told
this story, what could the little man be, but a _brughadair_ (_i.e._
one that came from the Fairy dwelling, an Elf)? To the reader the case
will appear one of simple hallucination produced by ardent spirits, but
it is of interest as shewing the interpretation put upon it under a
belief in the Fairies.
BEAN SHITH, ELLE WOMAN, OR WOMAN OF PEACE.
While supper was being prepared in a farmer’s house in Morvern, a very
little woman, a stranger to the inmates, entered. She was invited to
share the supper with the family, but would take none of the food of
which the meal consisted, or of any other the inmates had to offer. She
said her people lived on the tops of heather, and in the loch called
_Lochan Fasta Litheag_. There does not seem to be any loch of the name
in Morvern. The name is difficult to translate, but indicates a lakelet
covered with weeds or green scum. The little woman left the house as
she came, and fear kept every one from following her, or questioning
her further.
A woman at Kinloch Teagus (_Ceann Loch Téacais_), in the same parish,
was sitting on a summer day in front of the house, preparing green dye,
by boiling heather tops and alum together. This preparation is called
_ailmeid_. A young woman, whom she had never seen before, came to her,
and asked for something to eat. The stranger was dressed in green,
and wore a cap bearing the appearance of the king’s hood of a sheep
(_currachd an righ caorach_). The housewife said the family were at the
shielings with the cattle, and there was no food in the house; there
was not even a drink of milk. The visitor then asked to be allowed to
make brose of the dye, and received permission to do what she liked
with it. She was asked where she stayed, and she said, “in this same
neighbourhood.” She drank off the compost, rushed away, throwing three
somersaults, and disappeared.