An cuala sibh riamh mu’n tigh aig I——r
’S ann air tha’n deanamh tha ciallach ceart,
’S iomadh bliadhna o’n chaidh a dheanamh,
Ach ’s mor as fhiach e ged tha e sean;
Se duine ciallach chuir ceanna-crioch air,
’S gur mor am pianadh a fhuair a phears,
Le clachan mora ga’n cuir an ordugh,
’S Sament do choinntich ga’n cumail ceart.
Tha dorus mor air ma choinneamh ’n-otraich,
’Us cloidhean oir air ga chumail glaist,
Tha uinneag chinn air ma choinneamh ’n teintean,
’Us screen side oirre ’dh-fhodar glas;
Tha’n ceann a bhan deth o bheul an fhalais
A deanamh baithach air son a chruidh
’S gur cubhraidh am faladh a thig gu laidir
O leid na batha ’sa ghamhuinn duibh.
Tha catha’s culaist ga dheanamh dubailt,
’S gur mor an urnais tha anns an tigh,
Tha seidhir-ghairdean do dharach laidir,
’Us siaman ban air ga chumail ceart,
Tha lota lair ann, do ghrebhail cathair,
’S cha chaith’s cha chnamh e gu brath n’ am feasd,
Tha carpad mor air do luath na moine,
’S upstairs ceo ann le cion na vent.
Tha sparan suithe o thaobh gu taobh ann,
’Us ceangail luibte gan cumail ceart,
Tha tuthain chaltuinn o cheann gu ceann deth,
’Us maide slabhraidh’s gur mor a neart,
Tha lathais laidir o bheul an fhail air,
Gu ruig am falas sgur mor am fad,
Tha ropan siamain ’us pailteas lion air
’S mar eil e dionach cha ’n eil mi ceart.
On one occasion, on a dark and stormy winter’s night, the lightning
flashing through the heavens, the thunder clap loud and long, the wind
blowing furiously, and heavy dark ominous clouds gathering in
the north-west, the circle had already gathered, and almost every seat
was occupied. It was the evening of the day of one of the local cattle
markets. Three men came in, two of them well-known drovers or cattle
buyers who had visited the house on previous occasions, the other a
gentleman who had, some time previously, arrived and taken up his
quarters in the district. No one knew who he was, where he came from,
or what his name was. There were all sorts of rumours floating amongst
the inhabitants regarding him; that he had committed some crime, and
escaped from justice; that he was a gentleman of high estate, who had
fallen in love with a lowly maiden and run away to spite his family
for objecting to the alliance; and various other surmises. He was
discovered to be a gentleman and a scholar, and particularly frank
and free in his conversation with the people about everything except
his own history and antecedents, and was a walking encyclopædia of
all kinds of legendary lore connected with the southern parts of the
country. His appearance caused quite a flutter among the assembled
rustics. He was, however, heartily welcomed by the old bard and members
of the circle, and was offered a seat a little to the left of the oak
arm chair. It was soon found that he was a perfect master of Gaelic
as well as English. It was also found on further acquaintance, during
many subsequent visits, that he never told a story or legend without a
preliminary introduction of his own, told in such a manner as to add
immensely to the interest of the tale. Being called upon, he told the
“Spell of Cadboll.”
These remarks are taken from the introduction to the Highland Ceilidh
in the “Celtic Magazine,” at which the following Tales, the reader must
assume, have been told by the various characters who frequented the
Ceilidh house.