and ready to commence ploughing, when the youngest, who was but newly
broken, and a stranger to field work, said, “We will plough this ridge
and then that other ridge and after that the next one, and once we have
commenced we will do every ridge in sight, and once we have fairly
commenced we will not be long in doing the whole field.” The old horse,
who had experience of the work, said, “We will plough this furrow
itself first.”
III.--THE TWO DOGS. There was a big, sleek, honest-looking dog, and a
little yelping cur of “low degree” was always annoying him, and barking
at him. One day he caught the little cur, and gave him a squeeze and
sent it off yelping. When the cur recovered itself it said, “I will not
hurt you or touch you, but I will raise an ill report (_droch-alla_)
about you.” In pursuance of his threat the cur went among his
acquaintances, and such as he himself was. There are many dogs to be
found in every town.
“Both mongrel puppy whelp and hound
And curs of low degree.”
and to such the cur related how the big dog for all his smooth
appearance and apparent good nature was in reality a cruel, deceitful
dog and under all his apparent or seeming good manners, he was ready
to fall upon those weaker than himself, whether they gave him cause
or not, and if he could do it without being observed give them a bad
shaking. He was a dangerous dog and ought to be watched and no wise dog
should put himself in his way.
This calumny made its way, found many believers and at last produced
its natural fruit. The big honest dog found his company avoided and
every body looking upon him with suspicion.
At first the depression, and gloom which haunted him disappeared under
a hearty run, and the patting of its master, but it preyed so much on
him that he came to avoid society, and to be apparently indifferent
to any company. This happens in the experiences of life, and that
causeless and evil reports are most dangerous in their consequences.
Some time afterwards the cur was similarly dealt with by another cur,
who like himself had not very high principles.
THE CAT AND THE MOUSE.
A GAELIC NURSERY RHYME.
The Mouse said from her hiding place,
“What are you about, Grey Cat?”
“Friendship, fellowship and love:
You may come out!”
“Well I know the hooked claw
That is fastened in the sole of your feet
You killed my sister yesterday,
And with difficulty I myself escaped,
You thieving cat, son of the grim grey one,
Where were you yesterday when from home?”
“I went away on my left hand
To hunt for mince-meat in an evil hour;
I was noticed by the goodman of the house,
My eye being shut and my cheek full;
He tightened my throat very hard,
And called out to bring him the cheese-knife,
He cut off one of my ears
And the red root of the ear to the bone.”
Thuirt an Luchag, ’s i ’s an fhròig,
“’Dé th’ air t’ aire, a Chait Ghlais?”
“Càirdeas ’s comunn ’s gaol:
Feudaidh tusa tighinn a mach.”
“Is eòlach mi air an dubhan chrom
’Tha ’n sàs ann am bonn do chas!
Mharbh thu mo phiuthar an dé,
’S ann air éiginn ’fhuair mi-fhéin as.
A chaoitein, mhic Ghrìmeich Ghlais,
C’ àit an robh thu ’n raoir air chuairt?”
“Dh’ fhalbh mi air mo làimh-chlì
’Shealg nan ìsbean ’s an droch uair;
Mhothaich fear-an-tighe dhomh,
Mo shùìl druidte ’s mo phluic làn;
Theannaich e m’ amhach gu cruaidh,
’S ghlaodh e nuas air corc a’ chàis,
Thug e dhiom-sa an leth-chluas
’S am faillein ruadh gu ruig an cnàimh.”
NOTES:
The foregoing rhyme is here given as being a more complete version
than that to be found in vol. II. p. 389 (new edition p. 404) of
“Popular Tales of the West Highlands” by the late J. F. Campbell, of
Islay.
GAMES.
BOY’S GAMES.
In the Highlands of Scotland, as in every other place where there are
children, youthful plays and amusements had their sway, and it is
worthy of attention how these amusements were eminently calculated to
develop and strengthen mind and muscular strength in the young. The
various amusements of Riddles, and the many forms of indoor or house
games are too numerous to describe, and in many instances not worth
while dwelling upon. These games particularly called out the power of
close attention and of ready speech, and were as often played out of
doors as indoors, according to weather.
I.
WRESTLING MATCHES.
When the youth of a village met at a _céilidh_, or indoor gathering,
and a wrestling match was resolved upon, one of them was appointed
a king or master of the ceremonies, and the company was bound to be
obedient to him in everything. In the following game a stout and likely
lad was fixed upon to come in, in the character of a “Desert Glede”
(_Croman Fàsaich_). When he came in, the following speech occurred:
addressing the king, he said:--
_Croman._
“Leigeadh da, leigeadh da, Dia,”
_Righ._
“Co as a thàinig thu, a Chromain Fhàsaich, no ’de an dràsda thug so
thu?”
_Croman._
“Thàinig mi a m’ fhonn ’s a m’ fhearann, ’s a m’ fhàsach fhéin.”
_Righ._
“’Dé chuir fearann ’s fonn ’s fàsach agadsa ’s mise gun fhonn gun
fhearann gun fhàsach.”?
_Croman._
“Mo chruas, ’s mo luathas, ’s mo làidireachd fhéin.”
_Righ._
“Tha òganach geur donn agamsa a leagadh tu, ’s a bhreabadh tu, ’s a
bheireadh sia deug dh’ iallan do dhroma asad, agus iall g’ ad cheangal;
’s a mhi-mhodhaicheadh do bhean ann an clais na h-inne ’s tu fhéin
ceangailte.”
_Croman._
“Cuir a mach so e ma ta.”
* * * * *
_Kite, or Glede._
“Permit, permit, O Deity.”
_King._
“Where have you come from, Kite of the Desert, and what has now brought
you here?”
_Kite._
“I come from my own land and soil and desert.”
_King._
“How have you land and soil and desert, when I have neither land nor
soil nor desert?”
_Kite._
“My own hardiness and swiftness and strength.”
_King._
“I have a smart brown-haired youth, who can throw you down, and kick
you, and take sixteen thongs out of your back, and a thong to tie
you with, and who can throw your wife into the byre gutter while you
yourself are tied.”
_Kite._
“Send him out here then.”
The wrestling then began, and the one who proved victor became “Desert
Glede” for the next encounter, until the whole were run over.
The words were sometimes used in the following form:--
_Righ._--“Dida-a-didacha-dìsa, a Chromain Fhàsaich, co as dràsda a
choisich thu?”
_Croman._--“Feuch ’bheil gìomanach donn agad a chumas rium.”
_Righg._--“Tha agamsa gìomanach donn a chumas riut ’s a dheanadh loth
pheallagach dhiot aig dorus an tighe, etc.”
* * * * *
_King._--“Deeda-a-deedacha-deesa, Desert Glede, whence have you walked
from now?”
_Kite._--“Try whether you have a brown-haired youth to match me.”
_King._--“I have a brown-haired youth that will match you and make a
matted colt of you at the door of the house, etc.”
Another game popular on these occasions was one of forfeits, known
as the “Parson’s mare has gone amissing,” (_Làir a’ pharsonaich air
chall_). Every boy and girl in the company has a false name, given
for the occasion, such as “Old Cow’s Tail” (_Earball Seana Mhairt_);
“Rooster on the House-top” (_Coileach air Tigh_), etc. The king, or
overseer, commencing the game says,
“The parson’s mare has gone amissing,
And it is a great shame that it should be so;
Try who stole her.”
Làir a’ pharsonaich air chall,
’S mòr an nàire dh’ i bhi ann;
Feuch cò ghoid i.
Looking round the circle, he fixes upon some one, and mentions him by
the assumed name. He fixes, for instance, on the one to whom the name
of “Old Cow’s Tail” was given, and the person mentioned or denoted was
bound at once to answer, saying
“It’s a lie from you”
(’S breugach dhuit e)
to which the answer is,
“Who then is it?”
(Feuch cò eile e?).
The person accused at once passes it on by mentioning some one else,
such as the “Rooster on the House top,” and the same query and answer,
“Who then is it?”, etc., is passed on. The first one who fails in
giving a ready reply has to submit to give a forfeit which the ruler
keeps in security till all have been exacted; then some one bends down
and rests his head upon the king’s knee, when the forfeits are held
upon his head and he is made to award the punishment of redeeming
them. He does not see whose forfeit it is, and the penalty imposed is
sometimes very ludicrous and impossible. One, for instance, has to sit
on the fire till his stomach boils (_Suidhe air an teine gus am bi a
ghoile air ghoil_); another is to go out to the hillock in front of the
village and bawl out three times,
“This is the one who did the mischief
And who will do it to-night yet.”
(’S mise an duine a rinn an t-olc
’S nì mi ’n nochd fhathast e).
This game requires great readiness and retentiveness of mind. The
attention being kept continually on the strain in case one’s own
assumed name be called out, and a readiness to pass the accusation on
to another.
The game of “Hide and Seek” was practised in the Highlands in many
forms. Probably the earliest and simplest is that of young children
playing round their mother, while she was engaged in baking bread. It
was the custom in olden times to gather the meal or remains of dough
left over after the oatcakes of bread were made, and duly work it into
a cake by itself, called the _Bonnach Beag_, or “Little Cake,” also
known as _Siantachan a’ Chlàir_, “The Charmer of the Board,” which
was supposed to be of mysterious value in keeping want away from the
house. This little cake was given to the children, and when butter was
ready or accessible, was thickly covered and given to the little fry,
making a very welcome and grateful treat. Sometimes when the butter was
very thickly spread, and perhaps with the thumb as the readiest and
most convenient substitute for a knife, the housewife said, “Here take
that; it is better than a hoard of cloth” (Gabh sin; ’s fhearr e na mìr
liath ’an clùd). Hence the expression that was used to denote that the
preparations were not quite over:
“Cha ’n ’eil am bonnach beag bruich fhathast.”
(The little cake is not ready yet).
Not infrequently the little things hid their heads under their mother’s
apron, thinking, like the ostrich of the desert that if their heads
were hidden, none of the rest of them would be seen. When children
played the game in the open air, the stackyard was commonly resorted
to, and the one who was fixed upon as the Blind Man, while the rest
were hiding themselves had to call out three times,
“Opera-opera-bo-baideag”
adding at the third time,
“Dalladh agus bodharadh agus dìth na dà chluais air an fhear nach cuala
sud.”
(Blindness and deafness and the loss of both ears be the lot of the one
who will not hear that).
The Blind-man then caught hold of one of the stacks, and went round,
guided by his hands, giving occasional kicks in case any one should be
hiding himself near the ground.
APPENDIX.
I.--FINLAY GUIVNAC.
(Page 44).
_Guibhnich_, or _Duimhnich_, were the Campbells. In a song in dispraise
of the clan occurs,
“Bheir mi ’n sgrìob so air na Guibhnich
Air son cuimhneachadh o nuadh.
(I will make this line on the Campbell clan,
To remind them anew);
and in another similar song,
“Sgrios a’ chorrain air a’ choinnlein
Air na bheil beò do na Guibhnich.”
(The destruction of the reaping-hook on a grain of corn
On the living race of the Campbell clan).
In Stewart’s Collection, p. 320, is found,
“Dean mo ghearan gu cuimhneach
Ris na Duimhnidh ghlan uasal.”
(Be mindful to lay my complaint
Before the pure-minded noble Campbells).
II.--PORT-NAN-LONG.
(Page 52).
_Port-nan-long_ is said to have got its name from the following
circumstance:--About the year 500 A.D., the few inhabitants then
living in Tiree were in the township and neighbourhood of Sorabi,
where there was a chapel, and which lies on the south-east side of
the island, and is separated by the stream of the same name running
past the burying-ground into the bay, from the township of Balinoe
(_Baile-nodha_). The island having been previously desolated by
pirates and cattle-raiders, and a rumour being heard at this time that
a band of these had again returned among the islands to renew their
depredations, a watch was kept, and the factor of the community, who
appears to have been their only protector and counsellor, went daily
to look seawards for the appearance of the enemy, lest the small and
feeble band might be surprised before they could make their escape
or reach a hiding-place. One day then he saw ships coming from the
south-east, and he went in and sent word to his neighbours. When he
looked again, the ships were nearer and were a large fleet. The next
look he gave he saw that they were close at hand, near the land. He
then called the people round him, and told them how he could see that
their enemies, who were near, were too powerful to be resisted; that as
he himself and those with him were defenceless, and unable to escape,
their only hope of deliverance from their terrible danger was in the
power of Almighty God, whose aid he would ask, and kneeling on the
ground with his friends and neighbours around him, he said, “O Lord,
as all power is in thy hand, help us against these enemies who are
coming on us (to destroy us)”; (_A Thighearna, o ’n a’s ann ad làimh
a tha gach cumhachd, cuidich leinn o na naimhdean sin a tha ’tighinn
oirnn!_). He had scarcely uttered the last word when a violent storm
came from the south-east, and the ships of the enemy came ashore, one
heaped above another (_air muin a’ chéile_). Sixteen of them were
completely destroyed. One person even was not left to tell their fate;
and from that time the place has been called _Port-nan-long_, (the
Creek of Boats).
III.--A TRADITION OF MORAR.
MAC VIC AILEIN OF MORAR (_Mòr-thìr_) was out in a shealing with his
men, on a summer morning, and saw a young woman following cows, with
her petticoats gathered to keep them dry, as the dew was heavy on the
ground (_a còtaichean truiste, le truimead an driùchd, g’ an cumail
tioram_). He said, “Would not that be a handsome young woman if her
two legs were not so slender (_mur biodh caoilead a dà choise_).” She
answered in his hearing, “Often a slender-shanked cow has a large
udder[31] (_is minig a bha ùth mhòr aig bò chaol-chasach_).” He asked
her to be brought where he was; she was his own dairymaid. She went
away to Ireland, and named her son Murdoch after his foster-father
(_oide_), whom she afterwards married. He was known as Little Murdoch
MacRonald (_Murcha beag Mac Raonuill_). As he grew older his mother
would be telling him about a brother he had in Alban (_an Albainn_)
who was a strong and powerful man, and the lad, being a good wrestler,
thought he would like to go and see him, to try a bout of wrestling
(_car-gleachd_) with him, to find which of them was the strongest man,
and watched for an opportunity to get to Alban. As there was frequent
communication then between Ireland and the Western Highlands he had
not long to wait till he saw a boat in which it was likely he would
be taken. He went to the harbour and on reaching the boat, without
knowing that it belonged to his brother, asked the first person he
met, who was _Mac vic Ailein_ himself, if he would get ferried across
to Scotland (_dh’ iarr e ’n t-aiseag_). _Mac vic Ailein_ said that he
would take him with them. When they went away the day became stormy
(_shéid an latha_), and no one who went to steer but was lifted from
the helm,[32] _Mac vic Ailein_ being thrown aside as well as the
others. When _Murcha beag Mac Raonuill_ saw that the strongest man
among them could not stand at the helm, he asked to be allowed to try
it. “You would get that,” _Mac vic Ailein_ said, “if you were like a
man who was able to do it, but when it is beyond our strength (_’nuair
a dh’ fhairtlich i oirnn fhéin_), you need not make the attempt.” “At
any rate,” he said “I will give it a trial”: and it did not make him
alter his position (_cha do chuir i thar a bhuinn e_) till they reached
land. As he was the best seaman _Mac vic Ailein_ would not part with
him. He took him to his house and entertained him as a guest. They
entered into conversation and began to give news to each other (_chaidh
iad gu seanachas agus gu naigheachdan_) till little Murdoch told him
he was his brother and that it was for the express purpose (_a dh’ aon
obair_) of seeing him he had come from Ireland, and that he would not
return till they tried a bout of wrestling, since _Mac vic Ailein_ was
so renowned for his prowess, and he would find out what strength he
possessed before he left. The heroes rose and began to wrestle, but
in a short time _Mac vic Ailein_ was thrown (_Dh’ éirich na suinn,
ach ann an tiota bha Mac ’ic Ailein ’s a dhruim ri talamh_). “I am
pleased to have taken the trouble of coming from Ireland (_toilichte
as mo shaothair_),” Murdoch said. Next day at dinner they had beef on
the table, and little Murdoch said, “Let us try which of us can break
the shank bone[33] (_a’ chama-dhubh_) with the hand closed.” “I am
willing,” _Mac vic Ailein_ said. “Well, try it, then,” Murdoch said.
_Mac vic Ailein_ tried as hard as his strength would permit, and it
defied him (_dh’ fhairtlich i air_). Murdoch broke it at the first
blow. _Mac vic Ailein_ then said, “You will not return to Ireland any
more; you will stay with me, and we will divide the estate between us.”
Murdoch replied, “I am well to do as it is (_glé mhath dheth mar thà_),
my mother and stepfather have sufficient worldly means (_gu leòir de
’n t-saoghal_), and I will not stay away from them though you were to
give me the whole estate,” and wishing _Mac vic Ailein_ enjoyment and
prosperity, he bade him farewell and returned to Ireland, and friendly
communication was kept up between them ever afterwards during their
lives.
IV.--CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN J. F. CAMPBELL OF ISLAY AND J. G. CAMPBELL.
Among the treasures regarding folk-lore that I have been able to
collect are a few letters of the late J. F. Campbell of Islay to the
Rev. J. G. Campbell, late Minister of Tiree. They deal with various
questions and traditions.
_Inter alia_ is a discussion concerning the word sàil versus sìol
Dhiarmaid. I give the letters as written.
A. CAMPBELL.
SÀIL OR SÌOL DHIARMAID.
The late Campbell of Islay to the late J. G. Campbell.
TRAVELLERS’ CLUB,
Feb. 27, 1871.
MY DEAR SIR,
I’ll get you the books you name and send them soon. With regard to
sàil there was once an actor who amused an audience by putting his
head under his cloak and squealing like a pig. A countryman rose and
said that he would squeal better next day. So a match was made and
tried. The audience applauded the actor and hissed the countryman. But
he produced a pig from under his cloak. I know what the man meant who
signed Sàil Dhiarmaid. The man who spoke no other language pointed to
the place in his foot which he meant by Sàil, so I learned the lesson,
and anybody who will try may learn a good deal about Gaelic in the
same fashion.
[Illustration]
If a man starts with the conviction that knowledge is to the unknown
as a drop in the ocean--he will get on.
I have MacNicol, and know his remark about Ossian’s leg.
I have now got the only copy that ever was written, so far as I know,
and I shall be glad to get more. But we must all take what we can
get. As far as fixing the king or the country and the date, that is
perfectly hopeless. I have about 16 versions of one story in Gaelic,
and no two have the same name. I suppose that there must be sixty
versions of it known in other languages, and no two are alike. The
oldest I know is scattered in ejaculations and separate lines through
the Rigveda Sanhitâ, which is a collection of hymns in Sanscrit, and
the oldest things known. St. George and the Dragon is a form of the
story. Perseus and Andromeda is another. In Gaelic it is generally
_Mac an Iasgair_, or _Iain Mac_ somebody, or _Fionn Mac a’ Bhradain_,
a something to do with a mermaid or a dragon, the herding of cows and
the slaying of giants. The stories to which I referred were told me
by John Ardfenaig as facts (the Duke of Argyll’s factor in the Ross
of Mull). A man built a boat. Another, to spite him, said that the
death of a man was in that boat--no one would go to sea in it, and at
last the boat was sold by the builder to an unbeliever in ghosts and
dreams. The other was how the turnips were protected in Tiree. If you
know these you have got far, but if not you have a good deal to learn
in Tiree.
I wish you success anyhow,
Yours truly,
J. F. CAMPBELL.
NIDDRY LODGE, KENSINGTON,
March 28, 1871.
MY DEAR SIR,
I have been too busy about festivities and work to be able to get the
book which I promised to seek for you. I got your letter of the 20th,
yesterday, and I am much obliged by your promise to put some one to
write for me. If he writes from dictation will you kindly _beg him to
follow the words spoken_ without regard to his own opinion, or to what
they ought to be. I speak English, but when I come to read Chaucer I
find words that I am not used to. So it is when men who speak Gaelic
begin to write old stories. Our argument is an illustration. You speak
Gaelic and you believe that Sàil means heel and nothing else. You told
me that Sàil Dhiarmaid ought to be Sìol.
Now I speak Gaelic, but I profess to be a scholar, not a teacher.
I happen to know that the man who signed Sàil Dhiarmaid, which was
printed _Sàil_ didn’t mean _Sìol_. I have the following quotation,--
“_Eisdibh beag ma ’s àill leibh laoidh_
* * * * *
_Chaidh am bior nimh’ bu mhòr cràdh
An Sàil an laoich nach tlàth ’s an trod--
’S e ri sior chall na fala
Le lot a’ bhior air a bhonn._”
[Illustration]
In this old lay as sung in the outer isles these would mean the spot
which an old Mull man pointed to as sàil.[34]
If you are sceptical I hold to my creed of the people. But creed or no
creed I want to get the tradition as it exists and I would not give a
snuff for “cooked” tradition.
Tuesday, Oct. 10, 1871.
CONAN HOUSE, DINGWALL.
MY DEAR SIR,
I promised yesterday at Portree to send you my version of the fairy
song, and asked you to return yours. You must remember that I never
tried to write it from Gaelic, and that I never tried to write it from
rapid dictation till last month. Correct my spelling, but mind that
I took the _sounds_ from ear, so preserve all that you can without
reference to dictionary words. Don’t be hard upon a clansman who is
doing his best.
Believe me,
Yours very truly,
J. F. CAMPBELL.
From John Cameron, a man about 60, who lives in the south end of
Barra, about three miles from Castlebay. He can sing and recite,
1.--The Maiden (written by J. F. C.); 2.--The Death of Diarmaid;
3.--The Death of Osgar; 4.--The Battle of Manus (written by J. F. C.);
5.--The story of the Death of Garry; 6.--The Black Dog; 7.--The story
of ditto. 8.--The Smithy and story; 9.--The _Muireartach_; 10.--Dàn
an Deirg; 11.--The Fairy Song (as written here by J. F. C.); 12.--How
Coireal was slain; 13.--Fionn’s questions; 14.--A small story written;
and sundry other songs, lays, and stories, which he will get written
if I wish it. This is one of about a dozen of men whom I have met of
late who can sing and recite Ossianic ballads, of which some are not
in any book or old manuscript that I know. I have another version of
this song, written about ten years ago--by MacLean,[35] I think. See
Vol. IV. Popular Tales, Lists somewhere. It is now in London.
THE FAIRY SONG.
The tune is very wild and like a pibroch. I could not learn it in the
time.
_This is the story as told in Gaelic._
There was a time, at first, when before children were christened
they used to be taken by the fairies. A child was born and it was in
a woman’s lap. A fairy came to the _Bean-ghlùn_ and she said to the
midwife, “_’S trom do leanabh_.” “_’S trom gach torrach_,” said the
other. “_’S aotrom do leanabh_,” said the fairy. “_’S aotrom gach
soghalach_,” said the midwife, “_’S glas do leanabh_,” said the fairy.
“_’S glas am fiar ’s fàsaidh e_,” said the other; and so she came day
by day with words and with singing of verses to try if she could “word”
him away with her--“_am briatharachadh i leatha è_.” But the mother
always had her answer ready. There was a lad recovering from a fever in
the house and he heard all these words, and learned them, and he put
the song together afterwards: after the child was christened the fairy
came back no more.
This is the song. I have tried to divide the words so as to represent
the rhythm of the tune, but I am not sure that I have succeeded.--J. F.
C.