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Stealing glances of her beauty,
In the mirror of thy wave,

And he grudging thee her kisses,
When her lips in thee she'd lave.

There I sain would see thee, springlet,
Far away from the rude shore,

Where thou pourest thy sweet waters,
In the salt sea evermore.

And not all thy fragrant streamlets,
Flowing through the years to be,

Can this rugged shore make smoother,
Nor make sweet the bitter sea.


WE have to express our obligations, for the following interesting fragment of old local lore, to Mr. Macgillivray, formerly teacher at Culloden, and now resident in Inverness. We have no doubt the decisive action of the Presbytery of Inverness, in demolishing the obnoxious idol, had the same satisfactory results as followed the somewhat similar, but much more extensive, destruction of images at St. Andrews, described by Tennant in his “Papistry Stormed," when— “The sinful people o' the Elie Were spained frae image-worship hailie.”

We should like some of our local antiquarians to throw further light on the interesting circumstance to which the subjoined extracts refer.

At Inverness, 23rd November, 1643. Convened, all the Brethren, That day, report was made to the Presbitrie, that there was in the Parroch of Dunlichitie, ane idolatrous image called St. Finane, keepit in a private house obscurelie, the brethren, Mr. Lachlan Grant, Mr. Patrick Dunbar, and Alexander Thomson, to try, iff possible, to bring in the said image the next Presbitrie day.

At Inverness, 7th December, 1643. Convened, the whole Brethren, Alexander Thomsone presentit the idolatrous image to the Presbitrie, and it was delyverit to the ministers of Inverness, with ordinance that it should be burnt at their Market Corse the next Tuysday, after sermone.

At Inverness, 21st December, 1643. Convened, all the Brethren except Mr. Lachlan Grant,

The ministers of Inverness declairit that, according to the ordinance of the Presbitrie the last day, they caused burne the idolatrous image at the Market Corse, after sermone, upon Tuysday immediatlie following the last Presbitrie day.



THE year of God, 1602, the Lord Kintail, and his kin the Clan Kenzie, fell at variance with the Laird of Glengarry (one of the Clan Donald), who, being unexpert and unskilful in the laws of the realms, the Clan Kenzie intrapped and insnared him within the compass thereof, and charged him, with a number of his men and followers, to compear before the Justice at Edinburgh, they having, in the mean time, slain two of his kinsmen. Glengarry, not knowing or neglecting the charges, came not to Edinburgh at the prefixed day, but went about, at his own hand, to revenge the slaughter of his kinsmen. Thereupon, the Lord of Kintail, by his credit in Council, doth purchase a commission against Glengarry and his countrymen; which, being obtained, Kintail (with the assistance of the next adjoining neighbours, by virtue of his Commission) went into Morar (which appertained to Glengarry), and wasted all that country; then, in his return from Morar, he besieged the Castle of Strome, which, in end, he took, by treason of the Captain unto whom Glangarry had committed the custody thereof. Afterward, the Clan Kenzie did invade Glengarry's eldest son, whom they killed with forty of his followers, not without some slaughter of the Clan Kenzie likewise. In end, after great slaughter on either side, they came to an agreement, wherein Glengarry (for to obtain his peace) was glad to requite and renounce to the Lord of Kintail, the perpetual inheritance of the Strome with the lands adjacent.


In the month of August, 1611, there happened an accident in the Isle of Raasay, which is among the West Isles, where GilleCallum, Laird of Raasay, and Murdoch Mackenzie (son to the Laird of Gairloch), with some others, were slain, upon this occasion. The lands of Gairloch did sometime pertain to the Lairds of Raasay, his predecessors, and when the surname of Clan Kenzie began first to rise and to flourish, one of them did obtain the third part of Gairloch in wadset; and thus once getting footing therein, shortly thereafter doth purchase a pretended right to the whole, which the lawful inheritors did neglect; whereby, in process of time, the Clan Kenzie do challenge the whole, whereof the Laird of Gairloch, his father, obtains the possession, excluding the Laird of Raasay and his kin, the Clan Vic-GilleChallum, whom Gairloch and the Clan Kenzie did pursue with fire and sword, and chased them out of Gairloch. In like manner, the Clan Vic-GilleChallum invaded the Laird of Gairloch and his country with spoils and slaughters. In end, the Laird of Gairloch apprehended John MacAllan, and chased John Tolmach, two principal men of the race of Clan Vic-GilleChallum, and near cousins to the Laird of Raasay, at which skirmish there was slaughter on either side, the year of God, 1610. The Laird of Gairloch, not fully satisfied herewith, he sent his son Murdoch, accompanied with Alexander Bayne (son and heir to Alexander Bayne of Tulloch), and some others, to search and pursue John Tolmach; and, to this effect he did hire a ship (which then, by chance, happened to lie upon that coast) to transport his son Murdoch, with his company, into the Isle of Skye, where he understood John Tolmach to be at that time. But how soon Murdoch, with his company, were embarked, they turned their course another way, and (whether of set purpose, or constrained thereto by contrary winds, I know not) arrived at the Isle of Raasay, running headlong to their own destruction. The Laird of Raasay, perceiving the ship in the harbour, went aboard to buy some wines and other commodities, accompanied with twelve men. How soon Murdoch did see them coming, he, with all his company (least they should be known or seen), went to the lower rooms of the ship, until the other party had gone away. The Laird of Raasay entered the ship, and, having spoken the mariner, he departed with a resolution to return quickly. Murdoch, understanding that they were gone, came out of the lower rooms, and perceiving them come again, he resolved not to conceal himself any longer. The Laird of Raasay desired his brother, Murdoch MacGilleChallum, to follow him into the ship with more company, in another galley, that they might carry to the shore some wine and other provisions which he had resolved to buy from the mariner; so the Laird of Raasay, returning to the ship, and finding Gairloch's son there, beyond his expectation, he adviseth with his men, and thereupon resolveth to take him prisoner, in pledge of his cousin, John MacAllan, whom Gairloch detained in captivity. They began first to quarrel, then to fight in the ship, which continued all the day long. In the end, the Laird of Raasay was slain, and divers of his men; so was Murdoch, the son of Gairloch, and Alexander Bayne killed, with their whole company, three only excepted, who fought so manfully that they killed all those that came into the ship with the Laird of Raasay, and hurt a number of those that were with Murdoch MacGilleChallum in two galleys hotly pursuing them. At last, feeling deadly hurt, and not able to endure any longer, they sailed away with prosperous wind, and died shortly thereafter.

(To be continued.)



Sir, In the Celtic Magazine for the present month I see a Gaelic translation, forwarded to you by “Nether Lochaber,” of the once popular lyric, “Do they miss me at home 2" Your correspondent ascribes the translation to the late Rev. Dr. Macintyre of Kilmonivaig, and, in corroboration of the fact, he supplies the circumstance which is believed to have prompted the translation. I find, however, the same Gaelic version in Vol. II. of the Gael (1873-4), where it is credited to the late Mr. James Munro, author of the well-known Gaelic Grammar. Both gentlemen were highly competent Gaelic scholars, and perfectly able to translate the song into that language, but equally true it is that neither of them would claim as his own what belonged to the other. Unfortunately, however, they are both dead, and it remains with the living to settle the award in this case as best they can. Perhaps “Nether Lochaber" can furnish some additional evidence that the translation is that of Dr. Macintyre. I confess that beyond some linguistic peculiarities favoured by Munro, but which may equally have been accepted by Dr. Macintyre, I have nothing to urge on Munro's behalf in addition to the direct assertion in the Gael that he was the author of the translation.—Yours &c., I. B. O.

13th April, 1880,



“Up, girls, and busk ye vernal flowers are blooming,
Up and make ready Beltain-tide is coming ;
The withe-bound panniers on the old grey mare,
Your mother's hands have packed with eident care,
All that you need is there; up, girls, away !
(And, hark the birds trill forth their song of May),
Time you were off by a good hour and more
The sun is up and south of Ben-an-Or.”

Thus spake the father to his daughters three ;
To Flora fair, and dark-eyed Kate and me;
Ours for the summer months to milk the cows
In sheiling circled round by heathery knowes,
Far up amongst the mountains stern and wild,
At whose feet nestles calm the fair Loch-Eild.

We were three sisters in that sheiling lone;
The busy happy days were all our own,
The calves grew up apace; the cows with coats of silk
Fill'd the hooped cogs with streams of richest milk;
With butter kits and many a kebbuck round
Of choicest cheese, the sheiling walls were crowned.
And morn and eve, our dairy labours done,
We sat and laugh'd and knitted in the sun.

Now and again a shepherd swain would come
With welcome tidings of the folk at home;
But oftenest (bearer of glad tidings still),
Came Ranald Bane, the hunter on the hill;
Chief of the Forest, guardian of the wild,
And all the antler'd race that drink of Eild.
Of an old clan whose honour ne'er knew stain—
Handsome, and brave, and true was Ranald Bane.

When Ranald came, my sister's cheek blush'd high,
(My winsome Kate, girl of the black-brown eye )
Ranald had told his love, as lovers do,
And Kate soon felt that all he told was true.
Love begets love, and when his tale was done,
A whisper told that Kate was all his own.

One evening as we sat beside the burn,
That by the sheiling murmurs its sweet croon,
Seeking Loch-Eild by many a winding turn,

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