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PREFATORY NOTE.
PREFATORY NOTE.
The contents of this volume made their first appearance in the shape of a series of papers from “Nether Lochaber” in the Inverness Courier , a well-known Northern Journal, long and ably conducted by the late Dr. Robert Carruthers . They are now presented to the public in book form, in the hope that they may meet with a friendly welcome from a still larger constituency than gave them kindly greeting in their original shape, as from fortnight to fortnight they appeared. At one time it was the Auth
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Beannachadh Bàird.
Beannachadh Bàird.
Mìle fàilte dhuit le ’d bhrèid, Fad’ a rè gu’n robh thu slàn, Moran laithean dhuit as sìth, Le d’ mhaitheas as le d’ nì ’bhith fàs. A chulaidh cheiteas a chaidh suas. ’S tric a thairin buaidh air mnaoi— Bithse gu suilceach, ceiteach, O thionnseain thu fhein ’san treubh. An tùs do choiruith ’s tu òg, An tùs gach lò iarr Righ nan Dùl; Cha’n’ eagal nach dean e gu ceart Gach dearbh-bheachd a bhios ’nad rùn, Bithsa fialuidh—ach bith glic. Bith misneachail—ach bith stolt. Na bith brith’nach, ’s na bit
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A Bard’s Blessing.
A Bard’s Blessing.
Comely and kerchief’d , blooming, fresh and fair, All hail and welcome! joy and peace be thine; Of happiness and health a bounteous share Be shower’d upon thee from the hand divine. Wearing the matron’s coif, thou seem’st to be Even lovelier now than erst, when fancy-free, Thou in thy beauty’s strength did’st steal my heart from me. Though young in years thou ‘rt now a wedded wife; O seek His guidance who can guide aright. With aid from Him, the rugged path of life May still be trod with pleasur
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CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER II.
It is astonishing how difficult of thorough eradication are certain superstitions, if once established amongst a people. Once let the popular mind become inoculated with error in this shape, and although times may change and the manners of the people may alter, though a new tongue even shall have succeeded the language in which the error was imbibed, and knowledge have spread and civilisation have steadily progressed, yet there the superstition still lurks, frightened it may be at the outward li
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The Bewitched Bachelor Unbewitched.
The Bewitched Bachelor Unbewitched.
He went to his mother (she dwelt in the cot Amid the hazels down by the linn: Full well the wild birds loved that spot, And taught its echoes their merry din)— He went to his mother, that Bachelor gruff: He was mild with her, though with others rough. “Mother,” quoth he, “I have not now One-half the butter or cheese, I trow, That loaded my dairy shelves when you Had charge of my household and dairy too: Tell me mother, what shall I do? I vow and declare that some fairy or witch Is robbing me sti
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The St. Kilda Maid’s Song.
The St. Kilda Maid’s Song.
Over the rocks, steadily, steadily; Down to the clefts with a shout and a shove, O; Warily tend the rope, shifting it readily, Eagerly, actively, watch from above, O. Brave, O brave, my lover true, he’s worth a maiden’s love: ( And the sea below is still as deep as the sky is high above! ) Sweet ’tis to sleep on a well feathered pillow, Sweet from the embers the fulmar’s red egg, O; Bounteous our store from the rock and the billow; Fish and birds in good store, we need never to beg, O; Brave, O
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CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER V.
“Cha bhi crèutair fo chupan nan spèur ’N sin nach tiunndaidh ri’n speuràd ’s ri’n dreach, ’S gun toir Phoebus le buadhan a bhlàis Anam-fas daibh a’s caileachdan ceart, Ni iad ais-eiridh choitcheann on uaigh Far na mhiotaich am fuachd iad a steach, ’S their iad— guileag-doro-hidola-hann Dh-fhalbh an geamhra’s tha’n samhradh air teachd !” The lines of Du Bartas have little meaning in themselves, and are untranslatable, being simply an attempt on the poet’s part, in some odd moment of hilarity and
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CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VI.
And very well hit off, you will confess; an arrow shot from an Ulysses’ bow at the puling whimperers of a namby-pamby sentimentalism that they miscalled poetry; but if we dared for the nonce to take these lines in a more serious and literal sense than their author intended, we should say that in such hot and parching weather as we have recently had, and are still having, there is more “bliss” in a good draught of “Allsopp” or “Bass” than is dreamt of in the philosophy of the sentimentalists, and
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CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VII.
We have no idea who this poetical L. Mackinnon is or was, but it is pretty evident, we think, that both he and the British Linen Company’s Bank note had very excellent opinions of themselves. It was Lady Louisa Stewart, if we rightly recollect, who sent Sir Walter Scott a copy of the following lines, which she discovered on the back of a battered bank note which had come into her possession. It will be observed that they are in all respects immeasurably superior to Mr. L. Mackinnon’s:— “Farewell
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CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER VIII.
To sheltered dale and down are driven, Where yet some faded herbage pines And yet a watery sunbeam shines: In meek despondency they eye The wither’d sward and wintry sky, And far beneath their summer hill Stray sadly by Glenkinnon’s rill: The shepherd shifts his mantle’s fold, And wraps him closer from the cold; His dogs no merry circles wheel, But, shivering, follow at his heel; A cowering glance they often cast, As deeper moans the gathering blast. “My imps, though hardy, bold, and wild, As be
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CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER IX.
Birds—Contest between a Heron and an Eel. With the exception of a slight drizzle on Saturday the last ten days have been wonderfully fine for the season [February 1870]. Seldom, indeed, have we been so near realising the “ethereal mildness” of Thomson’s “Spring” so early in the year. And, in sooth, it was high time that some such pleasant change in the weather should take place, for no living wight can remember anything so incessant and persistent as were the rain and the storm of the previous s
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CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER X.
“Lo, Philomela from the umbrageous wood, In strains melodious mourns her tender brood, Snatch’d from the nest by some rude ploughman’s hand, On some lone bough the warbler takes her stand; The live-long night she mourns the cruel wrong, And hill and dale resound the plaintive song.” And hear our own matchless “ploughman bard,” in one of his sweetest lyrics, The Posie :— “The hawthorn I will pu’, wi’ its locks o’ siller grey, Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o’ day, But the songster’s
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CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XI.
Of British quadrupeds—perhaps of all existing quadrupeds—the pluckiest, and, according to its size and weight, by far the strongest, is the common weasel ( Mustela vulgaris ). The other day a man in our neighbourhood brought us a common brown hare, large and in excellent condition, that had been hunted and killed by a weasel in a very extraordinary manner. In the evening the man was going up a green glade on the wooded hill-side in search of his cows, when he heard what he took to be the screami
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CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XII.
We are glad to observe that the “Demoiselle” or Numidian crane recently shot at Deerness has been preserved, and is to fall into careful keeping. Its feeding on oats, however, is very extraordinary, and only to be accounted for by the supposition that its natural food was so scarce, in a locality so unlike its own sunny clime, that it was fain to fill its crop with the readiest possible edible that presented itself. The snowy owl , a specimen of which is stated to have been recently shot in Suth
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CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIII.
Herrings— Chimæra Monstrosa —Cure for Ringworm—Cold Tea Leaves for inflamed and blood-shot Eyes—An old Incantation for the cure of Sore Eyes—A curious Dirk Sheath—A Tannery of Human Skins. However unproductive the herring fishing season may be quoad herrings, and this has so far been the worst of a series of bad seasons [September 1870], it rarely fails to provide more or less grist for our mill in the shape of some rarity in marine life worth chronicling. A very ugly and repulsive-looking fish,
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CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XIV.
In English, literally— (Take of) St. Columba’s wort and dandelion, (Of) mint and a perfect plant of marsh trefoil, (Take of) milk from the udder of a quey (That is heavy with calf, but that has not actually calved), Boil, and spread the mixture on a cloth; Put it to your eyes at noon-tide, In the name of Father, Son, and the Spirit of Grace, And in the name of (John) the Apostle of Love, and your eyes shall be well Before the next rising of the moon, before the turning of next flood-tide. We wer
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CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XV.
In the same poem—the Pastoral Ballad —occurs this exquisite verse:— “When forced the fair nymph to forego, What anguish I felt at my heart! Yet I thought—but it might not be so— ’Twas with pain she saw me depart. She gazed as I slowly withdrew; My path I could hardly discern: So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return.” But alas, and woe the while! William Shenstone of the Leasowes, with his many tuneful contemporaries, are forgotten, or at least unread, by the present gener
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CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVI.
“The night comes on, we eager to pursue The combat still, and they ashamed to leave Till the last streaks of dying day withdrew, And doubtful moonlight did our rage deceive. “In th’ English fleet each ship resounds with joy, And loud applause of their great leader’s fame; In fiery dreams the Dutch they still destroy, And, slumbering, smile at the imagin’d flame. “Not so the Holland fleet, who, tired and done, Stretch’d on their decks, like weary oxen lie; Faint sweats all down their mighty membe
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CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVII.
Which our countryman Theodore Martin thus renders— “Look out, my Thaliarchus, round! Soracte’s crest is white with snow, The drooping branches sweep the ground, And, fast in icy fetters bound, The streams have ceased to flow.” The snow-clad Soracte itself could not wear a colder or wintrier aspect than does our own Ben Nevis at this moment. We have, in truth, had a great deal of sleet and snow and rattling hail showers of late, with bitterly cold winds and frost enough to induce one to don his w
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A Lullaby.
A Lullaby.
“Hush thee, my baby-boy, hush thee to sleep, Soft in my bosom laid, why should’st thou weep; Hush thee, my pretty babe, why should’st thou fear, Well can thy father wield broadsword and spear. “Lullaby, lullaby, hush thee to rest, Snug in my arms as a bird in its nest; Sweet be thy slumbers, boy, dreaming the while A dream that shall dimple thy cheek with a smile. “Helpless and weak as thou ’rt now on my knee, My eaglet shall yet spread his wings and be free— Free on the mountain side, free in t
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CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XIX.
And you remember Macbeth , and cannot fail to catch the allusion— “The raven himself is hoarse, That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements.” During his tour in the Highlands with Dr. Johnson, Boswell writes a highly characteristic letter to David Garrick, and, describing their visit to Macbeth’s Castle, says—“The situation of the old castle corresponds exactly to Shakspeare’s description. While we were there to-day, it happened oddly that a raven perched upon one of the chimne
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The Otter and Fox.
The Otter and Fox.
We’ll dine together and have our crack; Believe me, dear otter, that over one’s food The face of a friend is always good.” The otter tumbled into the stream Where the floating foam was white as cream; He sought and searched in each cranny and hole, But not a fish could he find in the pool. “Well,” quoth the otter, “I’ll hasten back To my cousin the fox, and we’ll have our crack Over the salmon I left above; One fish will go far that is eaten in love; ’Tis large, and fat, and full of roe, And, fa
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CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXI.
Not very easily turned into English, but this is something like it— “If my gudeman were cross and dour, I’d dip him in the burn, O! If my gudeman were cross and sour, I’d dip him in the burn, O; I’d dip the dear o’er head and ears until he’d grane and girn, O, And till he promised better things, he’d get the tother turn, O.” While stripping, it struck us that we were quite as wet on the occasion in question, as if for our sins we had undergone all the “dipping” threatened by the gudewife in the
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CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXII.
March—The Story of a Spanish Dollar—The Spanish Armada—The “Florida”— Faire-Chlaidh , or Watching of the Graveyard—Molehill Earth for Flowers. A fall of snow on Monday, followed by keen frost during three consecutive nights, rendered the past week [March 1871], as to mere cold at least, the most wintry of the season; but with a bright sun circling at mid-March altitude, the frost had no time to penetrate the soil to any depth, and spring work has been steadily pushed on, with hardly any retardat
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CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
We were the other day accidentally brought into contact with a curious superstition, which, although not peculiar to this district, but common, we believe, over all the Highlands, was yet quite new to us. We were sailing past the beautiful island of St. Mungo, in Loch Leven, the burial-place for many centuries of the people of Nether Lochaber and Glencoe, when the following conversation took place between ourselves and an old man who managed the sails while we steered. It was all in Gaelic, of c
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CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Thunderstorm—Potato Field in Bloom—The Hazel Tree—Hazel Nuts—Potato Shaws for Cattle—Ferns for Bedding Cattle— Marmion —Scott. With an occasional fine day [August 1871], the past fortnight must, we fear, be characterised as having been upon the whole wet— very wet, a stranger would say—and not a little stormy withal. We had a tremendous thunderstorm early on Sunday morning, with the most magnificent display of forked lightning that we have ever seen, while the very earth seemed to quake and trem
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CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXV.
Then couch’d him down beside the hind, And quaked among the mountain fern, To hear that sound so dull and stern .” Than the whole of the trial and doom of poor Constance, who “loved not wisely but too well,” in the second canto of Marmion , even Scott never wrote anything more solemn or terrible. Harvest—Scythe and Sickle v. Reaping Machines—Potatoes—Garibaldi and Potatoes at Caprera—Fishing— Platessa Gemmatus , or Diamond Plaice—Mushrooms—The Poetry of Fairy Rings—Harvest-Home. With such fine w
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CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVI.
The popular belief in the origin of these bright green circles, that they were caused by fairy feet in many a midnight merry-go-round, is frequently alluded to in the poetry alike of Celt and Saxon. Thus a fairy song of the time of Charles the First begins— “We dance on hills above the wind, And leave our footsteps there behind, Which shall to after ages last, When all our dancing days are past.” The reader will probably remember Queen Mab’s very quaint and beautiful song in Percy’s Reliques of
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The Milkmaid and her Fairy Lover.
The Milkmaid and her Fairy Lover.
Gaily the milkmaid came tripping along; The echoes so loved her, they joined in her song; The hare and the wild-roe that browsed in the glade, The bird on the bough swinging high over-head— They saw and they heard, but they feared not—they KNEW the milkmaid. Abundant her tresses, bright golden their hue; And soft as a dove’s was her eye in its blue; Elastic her footstep, and lightsome and free As a fawn’s when in gladness it skips o’er the lea— Of the old and the young the delight, and the pride
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CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The Vernal Equinox—Beauty of Loch Leven—Astronomical Notes—How an old Woman supposed to possess the Evil Eye escaped a cruel death. The vernal equinox has come and gone, unaccompanied this year [April 1872], as it was unheralded and unannounced, by anything like the storms that from the earliest times have been observed to be attendant on the sun’s crossing the equator. It is by no means certain, however, that these storms may not even now be a-brewing, to make themselves yet felt in all their f
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CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Whate’er the beauties others boast, This spot of ground delights me most. Or, as we prefer putting it in our own case— Of brighter skies and sunnier climes let others boast and jabber, Give me the sunny, southern shores of mountain-girt Lochaber! Or yet again, if you will have it still more literally in Gaelic— ’S anns’ leam na spot eil’ fo ’a ghréin, M’ oisinneag bheag, ghrianach féin. During the present clear, cold spring nights the starry heavens are very beautiful. Jupiter, just below Castor
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CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXX.
Ne dubita miles tutos haurire liquores; Noxia serpentum est admisto sanguine pestis; Morsu virus habent et fatum dente minantur; Pocula morte carent. Dixit dubuumque venenum Hausit.” Which has been elegantly rendered into English as follows:— “And now with fiercer heat the desert glows, And mid-day sun-darts aggravate their woes; When, lo! a spring amid the sandy plain Shows its clear mouth to cheer the fainting train; But round the guarded brink in thick array, Dire aspics roll’d their congrega
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CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXI.
Lines, by the way, that would form a most happy and appropriate inscription for any really fine trophy of this kind. Calling upon the Misses Macdonald of Achtriachtan the other day at Fort-William, we were shown some very fine old silver-plate, having a history of its own, to the recital of which we listened with no small interest. After the battle of Culloden, a party of “red-coat” soldiers entered Lochaber, and employed themselves in pillaging and plundering in all directions. Hearing that vis
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CHAPTER XXXII.
CHAPTER XXXII.
The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide Amang the bearded bear, I turn’d the weeder-clips aside, And spared the symbol dear : No nation, no station, My envy e’er could raise; A Scot still, but blot still, I knew nae higher praise. ” —( Epistle to the Guidwife of Wauchope House. ) The true Carduus Scotticus is not fond of cultivated land, but is a tremendous fellow when he gets hold of a waste outlying corner to himself, sometimes attaining a height of four or five, or even six feet, with a stem a
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Rann Leigheas Galar Cruidh.
Rann Leigheas Galar Cruidh.
Crìosd’ ’us Ostail ’us Eoin An triuir sin is binne gloir A dh-èirich a dheanada na h-òra, Roimh dhorus na Cathrach, No air glún deas De Mhic. Air na mnathan múr-shuileach, Air na feara geur shuileach, ’Sair na saighdean sitheadach; Dithis a lasachadh alt agus ga ’na adhachadh Agus triuir a chuireas mi ’an urra rin sin, An t-Athair, ’sar Mac ’san Sprorad Naomh, Ceithir ghalara fichead ’an aoraibh duine ’s beathaich, Dia ga sgriobanh, Dia ga sguabadh, As t-fhail, as t-fheoil, ’sad ’chnàimh ’sad ’s
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A Healing Incantation for Diseases in Cattle.
A Healing Incantation for Diseases in Cattle.
Christ and His Apostle and John, These three of most excellent glory, That ascended to make supplication Through the gateway of the city, Fast by the right knee of God’s own Son. As regards evil-eyed women; As regards blighting-eyed men; As regards swift-speeding elf-arrows; Two to strengthen and renovate the joints, And three to back (these two) as sureties— The Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost. To four-and-twenty diseases are the reins of man and beast (subject); God utterly extirpate, sweep aw
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CHAPTER XXXIV.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Ewen Maclachlan, commonly styled “of Aberdeen,” because he taught the Grammar School there, and there died, but who was, in truth, a Lochaber man—nay, a Nether Lochaber man, born and bred, and whose ashes rest in Killevaodain of Ardgour, without, we are ashamed to confess it, “One gray stone to mark his grave;” he, born at Tarrachalltuinn—the Height of Hazel Trees—in our parish, knew something of hazel nuts, and thus happily describes them in their season:— ’S glan fàile nan cno gaganach, Air ar
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CHAPTER XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
There are doubtless many odd and curious ways of earning even an honest livelihood in this world, but the oddest, and to us, while uninitiated, the most puzzling we have met with for a long time, was the following:—On a fine day lately, we took our boat to the mouth of the Coe, and were leisurely proceeding up the far-famed glen, when we saw, a little before us, a diminutive but still active old man, whom, from his peculiar style of dress, we had no difficulty in recognising as a peripatetic ven
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Altachadh Leapa’.
Altachadh Leapa’.
Laidhidh mise ’nochd Le Moire’s le ’Mac, Le mathair mo Righ, ’Ni mo dhion ’o dhroch-bheairt, Cha laidh mise leis an olc, ’S cha laidh an t’olc leam; Ach laidhidh mi le Dia, ’S laidhidh Dia ma’ rium. Lamh dheas Dhe fo’m cheann, Crois nan naoi aingeal leam. ’O mhullach mo chinn Gu craican mo bhonn. Guidheam Peadair, guidheam Pòl, Guidheam Moir-Oigh’ ’sa Mac. Guidheam an da ostal deug, Gun mise ’dhol eug le’n cead. ’Dhia ’sa Mhoire na gloire. ’S a Mhic na oighe cubhraidh Cumabh mise o na piantan do
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A Blessing to be said at Bedtime.
A Blessing to be said at Bedtime.
This night I will lay me down to sleep In the companionship of the Virgin and her Son, Even with the mother of my King, Who protects me from all evil. I will not lie down to sleep with evil, Nor shall evil lie down to sleep with me; But I shall sleep with God. And with me shall God lie down. His good right arm be under my head; The cross of the Nine Angels be about me, From the top of my head Even to the soles of my feet. I supplicate Peter, I supplicate Paul, I supplicate Mary the Virgin and he
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Rann Buachailleachd.
Rann Buachailleachd.
Siubhal beinne, siubhal coille, Sinbhal gu rèidh fada, farsuinn, Banachag Phadruig ma ’n casan, ’S gu faic mise slàn a rithisd sith. An seun a chuir Moire mu ’buar, Moch ’us anmoch ’sa tigh’n bhuaidh’, Ga’n gleidheadh o pholl, o eabar. O fheithe, o adh’rcean a cheile, O liana’ na Craige-Ruaidhe, ’S o Luaths na Féinne. Banachag Phadruig ma’r casan, Gu’m bu slàn a thig sibh dhachaidh. O liana’ na Craige-Ruaidhe, ’S o Luaths na Féinne. Banachag Phadruig ma’r casan, Gu’m bu slàn a thig sibh dhachaid
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A Rhyme to be said in driving Cattle to Pasture.
A Rhyme to be said in driving Cattle to Pasture.
Wandering o’er uplands, wandering through woods, Hither and far away wander ye still, St. Patrick’s own milkmaid attend your steps Till safe I see you return to me again. The charm that Mary made to her cattle, Early and late, going and coming from pasture, Still keep you safe from quagmire and marsh, From pitfalls and from each other’s horns, From the sudden swelling (of the torrent about) the Red Rock And from Luath of the Fingalians. St. Patrick’s milkmaid attend your feet, Safe and scaithles
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Light and Shade.
Light and Shade.
Dark and dreary is the world to me, No sun, no moon, no star; Vainly I struggle on my midnight sea, No beacon gleams afar; A wilderness of winter, frost and snow, Sad and alone I hang my head in woe. ’Tis vain to strive against the will of fate (No sun, no moon, no star); Where I had looked for love, I found but hate (No beacon gleams afar); I gave my heart, my all, to one who cares Now nought for me—no one my sorrow shares. Cares not my love though I were dead and gone (No sun, no moon, no star
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Maori Song.—(Translation.)
Maori Song.—(Translation.)
The stranger, with his face so ugly and pale, Has come from far over the sea. He loves us, he says; but a Maori maid Will not listen to his love. The mountains and vales of our own land Are pleasant to see and live among. And the sun at his setting is very red— Red with love to the Maori; angry at the stranger. My father lived here long ago; He lived here, and here also lived the paraipa (a kind of bird). The paraipa is not here, and my father is dead: Woe is me, I wander among strangers. Mounta
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CHAPTER XXXIX.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
But, swerving from the knight’s career, Just as they met, Bruce shunn’d the spear. Onward the baffled warrior bore His course—but soon his course was o’er! High in his stirrups stood the King, And gave his battle-axe the swing. Right on De Boune, the whiles he pass’d, Fell that stern dint—the first—the last! Such strength upon the blow was put, The helmet crush’d like hazel nut; The axe shaft, with its brazen clasp, Was shiver’d to the gauntlet grasp. Springs from the blow the startled horse, Dr
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CHAPTER XL.
CHAPTER XL.
“First the heel and then the toe, That’s the way the polka goes; First the toe and then the heel, That’s the way to dance a reel; Quick about and then away, Lightly dance the glad Strathspey. Jump a jump, and jump it big, That’s the way to dance a jig; Slowly, smiling as in France, Follow through the country dance. And we’ll meet Johnny Cope in the morning.” And we’ll meet Johnny Cope in the morning.” It was very amusing. Where he picked up the uncouth rhyme we do not know, and it was bootless t
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CHAPTER XLI.
CHAPTER XLI.
Wounds from Stags’ Antlers exceedingly dangerous—The old Fingalian Ballads—Number of Dogs kept for the Chase—Dr. Smith’s “Ancient Lays” of modern manufacture—The Spotted Crake ( Crex Prozana ) at Inverness—Its Habits. It is not generally known, we believe, that a wound from a stag’s antlers, however slight—the merest scratch or abrasion of the skin, if only blood is drawn—is exceedingly dangerous. A short time ago [December 1874], on ascending from the cabin of a steamer, we went forward in orde
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CHAPTER XLII.
CHAPTER XLII.
On which passage we would first of all remark that pigeons are not berry eaters, and even if they were, they would not carry them to their young in such wise as the poet clearly implies. A pigeon itself eats the food meant for its young, and only after undergoing a certain process of maceration and digestion in the parent’s crop, is it again regurgitated in form suitable for the young. In genuine Gaelic poetry, the natural history is in a very remarkable manner almost invariably correct. Here it
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CHAPTER XLIII.
CHAPTER XLIII.
A “Blessed Thaw” after a Severe Frost—Longevity in Lochaber—A ready “Saline draught—A probatum est Recipe for Catarrh and Colds—Egg-shell Superstition—Curious old Gaelic Poem. How intense was the recent frost [January 1875], and how hyperborean all our surroundings, may be judged of from the fact that on coming out of church yesterday, one of our people, a greyheaded, pious old man, spoke of the happy change to open weather and “westlan’ breezes” very solemnly as “the blessed thaw”— an t’aiteamh
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Conaltradh nan Ian—(Fragment).
Conaltradh nan Ian—(Fragment).
’An tusa sin a’d mheall air stop Nuair a bhi’s do cheod-cheann trom? Am bi do theanga ’ghnath fo ghlais ’S tu gun luaidh air reach na ùi, ’S tu cho duinte ri cloich bhric ’Bhi’s air meall a chnaip gun bhri.” “Bu treis dhaibh mar so a còmhstri, Gearradh, ’bearradh glòir a cheile, Ach gus an d’leum a nois an glas-eun; ’S rinn esan gach cùis a rèiteach, ’S crog a phiaid air a ceann ’S dh-fhag e i gu fuar, fann, ’N sin bh’èirich firèun nan gléus A shinbhlas an spèur ga luath.” [ Cætera desunt. ] Thi
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CHAPTER XLV.
CHAPTER XLV.
An old Fingalian Hero—His keenness of Sight and sharpness of Ear— Foresters and Keepers—Foxhunters—Donald MacDonald—His Dogs—Sandy MacArthur the Mole-catcher. The hero of one of our most popular old Fingalian tales is described as very marvellously gifted. In order to secure the hand of a beautiful Scandinavian princess, whose locks are as the beams of the setting sun, about the time the summer sea is flecked and barred with gold, and with whom he has long been in love, he has to undertake the m
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CHAPTER XLVI.
CHAPTER XLVI.
A few days ago the Ardgour fox-hunter, Donald Macdonald by name, a Moidart man, and an excellent specimen of his class, called upon us with his quarterly budget of news from glen and upland, from hill and scaur, and den and corrie; and a wonderful season in his particular line he vows it has been. Since the middle of April last he has killed and bagged no fewer than fifty-one foxes all told, besides a number, both young and old, that were worried to the death by his terriers in the deepest reces
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CHAPTER XLVII.
CHAPTER XLVII.
Crops—Potato Slug—Fern Slug—Brackens: How thoroughly to extirpate them—The Merlin—Falcon and Tringa. We have had a full fortnight of magnificent summer weather [August 1875], a bright sun over-head from morning till night, with brisk breezes, a leanachd na gréine , following the sun; that is, beginning in the morning at east, and gradually wearing round pari passû with the solar march, till at sunset it is north-west, and so on round and round the compass day after day, a phenomenon usually atte
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CHAPTER XLVIII.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
The Hedgehog an Egg and Bird Eater?—Bird-catching—“Old Cowie”—Mackenzie— Lanius Excubitor —The Butcher-Bird or Shrike—Tea drinking and Sobriety. Audi alteram partem is a sensible maxim, so reasonable in itself, and mild and deprecatory of tone, that it rarely fails to commend itself to our sense of right and candour; for if we would arrive at a right conclusion on any matter in dispute, we must learn to listen without prejudice to both sides of a question. We can only hold our own convictions wi
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CHAPTER XLIX.
CHAPTER XLIX.
We have noticed, by the way, that all bird-catchers—all at least with whom we have had any acquaintance—are prodigious tea-drinkers, not sipping the grateful beverage from cups, observe, but literally drinking it in bowls’-full. They have assured us that they find it the best thing they can take, not merely as a refresher, but as a long sustaining element in their dietary throughout their many wanderings by flood and field. And like all large tea-drinkers, bird-catchers are a very sober class of
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CHAPTER L.
CHAPTER L.
On this passage there is an interesting note very apropos to our subject:—“Among other omens to which faithful credit is given among the Scottish peasantry is what is called the ‘dead-bell,’ explained by my friend James Hogg to be that tinkling in the ears which the country people regard as the secret intelligence of some friend’s decease.” He tells a story to the purpose in the “Mountain Bard,” p. 26— “O lady, ’tis dark, an’ I heard the dead-bell, An’ I darena gae younder for gowd nor fee.” “By
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CHAPTER LI.
CHAPTER LI.
Mackenzie the bird-catcher, facile princeps the king and head of his order, called upon us to-day, and made us a present of the bonniest little redpole we ever set eyes upon. Its colouring is exquisitely beautiful, differing from the usual plumage of the species in having several little snow-white spots irregularly sprinkled over the coverts of either wing, and its neck and breast of a mingled shade of pink and crimson of exceeding richness, that makes it far and away the handsomest bird of the
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CHAPTER LII.
CHAPTER LII.
Heat in Mid-August—Early Planting and Sowing—Over-ripening of Crops—Medusæ—Stinging Jelly-Fish—The amount of solid matter in Jelly-Fish. The unprecedented heat of mid-August lasted with us here precisely a fortnight [September 1876]. Beginning on the 10th, it continued with little intermission or mitigation till the 24th, when the wind suddenly chopped round to the south-west, our rainy quarter; the sky assumed the threatening aspect, an ugly interminglement of black and dark grey, with which we
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CHAPTER LIII.
CHAPTER LIII.
Approach of Winter—Contentedness of the People—Poets and Wild-Bird Song—Differences in the Colouring and Markings of Birds’ Eggs—Late Nest-Building—Anecdote of Provost Robertson of Dingwall, Mr. Gladstone’s Grandfather. The meteorological vaticinations of our weather-wise octogenarian neighbours have met with abundant and speedy verification in the storms and heavy rains of the past ten days [October 1876]. For the month of October, however, the weather continues wonderfully mild; even with wind
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CHAPTER LIV.
CHAPTER LIV.
On this occasion, too, a pair of blackbirds began a nest de novo , either despising the labours of mere repairing, or having no old nest, perhaps, to repair. The blackbirds, however, wiser than the sparrows, left off before a third—the lower flat, so to speak—of their building was finished; as if they had duly thought it all over again, and had wisely concluded that it was better to wait till spring, it being manifestly too late to finish a nest and attempt to rear a brood any more this season.
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CHAPTER LV.
CHAPTER LV.
To housewives in rural districts we offer a “wrinkle” that may be found of use at the present season, when most vegetable gardens may be ransacked in vain for delicacies that shall be common enough at a later period. While rambling through the district a few days ago, we chanced to drop in upon a widow lady and daughter, who occupy a nice little cottage. They were going to sit down to an early dinner, and although we were not very hungry, and could have fasted till a later hour, not merely witho
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CHAPTER LVI.
CHAPTER LVI.
We are much obliged to our friendly correspondent. The quotation proves that the Lowland Scotch as well as the Highlanders have a difficulty with the lisping sound of th , preferring the simpler and more natural sound of d . A gentleman from Badenoch greatly amused us the other day by his account of a certain superstitious observance on the part of a “wise woman” in his neighbourhood. The gentleman’s wife was sitting with her baby, only a few weeks old, in her lap. It was of course a marvel of a
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CHAPTER LVII.
CHAPTER LVII.
Showers in Harvest Time—Magnificent Sunset—Night sometimes seeming not to descend but to ascend —Death of M. Leverrier—The Discovery of Neptune—Pigeon cooing at Midnight—The Owl at Noon—Cage-Birds singing at Night. The weather continues wonderfully fine for the season [October 1877], and with the exception of the potato-lifting, all our harvest labours are at length concluded. The ingathering has upon the whole been highly satisfactory, far more so than any one could have had the courage to pred
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CHAPTER LVIII.
CHAPTER LVIII.
France has recently lost one of her greatest men by the death of M. Leverrier, her distinguished astronomer, the most distinguished astronomer, it is not too much to say, of the present century. Many, indeed, achieved greater triumphs with the telescope, for with the telescope Leverrier did comparatively little; it was as a mathematical astronomer that he was unrivalled. He came first prominently into notice while still a young man, with his cometary investigations, and his researches into the m
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CHAPTER LIX.
CHAPTER LIX.
But we must stop; for hark! an itinerant fiddler has this moment struck up “Bob of Fettercairn” just in front of our study window. He plays admirably too, lovingly caressing the polished base of his instrument—his bread-winner, poor fellow—with his wan and withered cheek, and wielding a powerful, yet light and delicate, bow-hand; and we must go and have a crack with him. Nor must you sneer at us for so doing, gracious reader. The arrival even of a peripatetic, out-at-elbows fiddler is an event o
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CHAPTER LX.
CHAPTER LX.
Overland from Balluchulish to Oban on a ‘Pet Day’ in February—Story of Clach Ruric —Castle Stalker: an Old Stronghold of the Stewarts of Appin—James IV.—Charles II.—Magpies—Dun-Mac-Uisneachan. With all their tendency, in their every reference to the past, to become laudatores temporis acti , the sturdy upholders of the superiority of all that was , in comparison with anything and everything that is , our weather-wise octogenarian friends here are all agreed that so summer-like a February [1878]
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CHAPTER LXI.
CHAPTER LXI.
“One’s joy, Two’s grief, Three a wedding, Four death. ” In the old sgeulachd the Gaelic rhyme is of similar import— “Chunnaic mi pioghaid a’s dh-éirich leam; Chunnaic mi dhà ’sgum b’iargain iad; Chunnaic mi tri a’s b’aighearach mi; Ach ceithir ri’m linn chan iarrainn iad.” In our own case, on that particular occasion, the superstition could not have been more completely falsified by the event, for, maugre the magpies, our trip to Oban was in its every circumstance as agreeable and pleasant as it
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CHAPTER LXII.
CHAPTER LXII.
Fully to appreciate Cunningham’s objection, it is proper that we quote the song in full; but before doing so, it may be observed that it is founded on an older version, of which the best lines are retained, as is the case with not a few of Burns’ finest love-songs. Writing to George Thomson in the summer of 1793, the poet says— “Do you know the following beautiful little fragment in Witherspoon’s Collection of Scots Songs ?— “ ‘Oh, gin my love were yon red rose, That grows upon the castle wa.’ ”
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CHAPTER LXIII.
CHAPTER LXIII.
Neatly packed in a couple of lucifer match-boxes ingeniously conjoined, the bird reached us, and the locale of its being shot or captured we can only approximately indicate by the fact that the package bore the post-mark “Garve.” There was no difficulty in at once recognising the bird as the snow-fleck or snow bunting, the Emberiza nivalis of Linnæus, a common enough bird in early winter over the whole of Scotland. Although it has been known to breed in Scotland, a few being found all the year r
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Abbreviations
Abbreviations
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