Imagens da página
PDF
ePub

na eacarsi," ars' Iain, "ach eacarsi an fheidh, far am faic mise namhaid cuiridh mi peilear troimh 'chorp." That is, "Tut! tut! John, you must mind your exercise." "The devil, exercise or exercise," replied John, "but the exercise of the stag. Wherever I see an enemy I will put a bullet through his body"-a characteristic specimen of the discipline of Ian Buidhe Mor.

Some time after this episode a French bravado sent a challenge to the Fraser Highlanders, in which he offered to fight the best swordsman among them. "Do you think he is in earnest," inquired John. "So much so," replied his friends, "that the Regiment will be bound in honour to make up a purse of gold for him if his challenge is not accepted." "He will take no gold from us," said John, "for I will meet him tomorrow morning." The meeting took place in presence of a large number of witnesses. The combatants stood facing each other. The Frenchman first made some grand move to show his agility and command over his weapon, but in the twinkling of an eye John was within arm's length of his antagonist, "striking him at the third button," as he himself used to say. The foolish Frenchman, with all his fencing skill, fell down dead, uttering a hideous yell. "May be it is counting his gold he is," said John-who was carried home in triumph on the shoulders of his comrades. All the officers and men congratulated him on his skill with the sword, and asked him how he managed to kill the Frenchman? "When we stood on the ground looking at each other," said John, "the fool thought he would frighten me!-Ghearr e figear m' anmhaoin air mo bheul-thaobh--he cut the figure of strife before me. I sprang over and struck him at the third button, and he fell dead as a herring."

The next Strathglass man in this distinguished Regiment whom I shall mention is Alexander Macdonell from Invercannich, known by the patronymic of Alastair Dubh. His courage and daring seem to have been the admiration of the whole Regiment. By the united testimony of his countrymen who served in the Fraser Highlanders and afterwards returned to Strathglass, it was recorded in the district that Alastair Dubh was one of a camp of British soldiers occupying some outlying post in Canada, where some of the contents of the military stores under their charge were disappearing in a mysterious way; and the officers, determined to detect and punish the culprit, ordered the soldiers to watch the stores every night in turn until the thief was discovered. Strange to say the first sentinel placed on this duty never returned. Sentry after sentry took his turn and place, not one of whom were again seen. One night the duty fell to the lot of some faint-hearted man, who, firmly believing that he would never return, was much disconcerted. Alastair Dubh, as compassionate as he was brave, pitied the poor man, and bade him cheer up, asking him at the same time what he would be disposed to give him if he would mount guard that night in his place. "Everything I have in the world" was the reply. Alastair did not ask for more than the loan of his bonnet, his topcoat, and his gun for that night only, all of which were readily placed at his disposal. Alastair began his preparations for the night watch by crossing some pieces of wood, on which he placed his neighbour's topcoat and bonnet. He proceeded to examine the gun, and loaded it with two bullets. He then primed and loaded his own gun with a similar charge, remarking that such was his favourite shot when deer

stalking in Strathglass. Alastair mounted guard at the appointed time, took his two guns along with him, one bayonet, and the dummy in topcoat and bonnet. He stuck the dummy in the snow within some fifty or sixty yards of the sentry-box in which he stood. Ordering the man he relieved to retire, he expressed an opinion that the contents of his two muskets would give a warm reception to the first two thieves who approached the stores, and that the bayonet would probably satisfy the curiosity of a few more of them. During the night he noticed a huge object, under cover of a thick shower of snow, coming towards the stores by a circuitous route, apparently with the view of getting behind the dummy. In this the monster succeeded, and getting within a few paces of it he tiger-like sprang upon it, when both fell on the snow. The strange object was soon on his legs, but no sooner was he up than a couple of bullets from Alastair brought him again to the ground. After a minute's moaning and rolling on the snow, he managed to get up and attempted to reach the sentry-box, but Macdonell fired at him a second time, sending two more bullets through his body. This brought the monster again to the ground, this time to leave it no more.

By this time the whole garrison beat to arms and soon crowded round the body of a gigantic Red Indian. A strong party was sent on the track made in the snow, in his approach, by the wild savage; they thus managed to trace and reach his cave, which was found guarded by a fierce red Indian squaw and a young man, both of whom prepared to give battle. The woman was killed in the struggle which ensued to capture them. The soldiers ransacked the cave, and found every cask of rum, box of sugar, and other article that had been stolen from the camp, either wholly or partially consumed, in the cave. Horrible to relate they also found the heads of every one of their missing comrades in the dreadful place, Just as if exhibited like trophies, each head was suspended by the queue, or pigtail, then worn by the British soldier, from a peg round the inside of this charnel house. The young Indian was bound hand and foot, brought to the camp, and placed on board the first vessel that sailed for Britain. This specimen of the wild Canadian native was so fierce and unmanageable that the sailors found it necessary to chain him to the mainmast of the vessel-a restraint so uncongenial to one used to such a free and easy life, that he died on board, when he was consigned to the deep.

But how, it may be asked, was the brave Alexander Macdonell rewarded for having brought the murderer of his comrades to such a condign and well-deserved punishment? The truth must be told, however unpalateable. Indeed, in this case, it is even more; it is disgraceful. He received no reward whatever. It was adding insult to injury to tell him that, as he was not a scholar, according to the usual acceptation of that term, his country could do nothing for him! So much was the heroic Alastair hurt on learning this that he soon afterwards died of grief, or, as his comrades used to say, "Sgain a chridhe leis an taire." Let me only add that I often heard old men saying that they were intimately acquainted with him; that he was, though unusually strong and powerful, until roused by his ideas of duty, exceedingly quiet; and that in all these respects he left not his equal in Strathglass.

(To be Continued.)

A GAELIC HYMN.

By ALEXANDER CAMPBELL (Alastair Buidhe Mac Iamhair), the Gairloch Bard.

'S ion'adh leam an nadur

Tha air tarmachdainn 's na sloigh,
Tha 'cur cloinne 'n aghaidh 'm parantan,
Is iomadh lannail phost.

Tha mòran air an sàrachdainn
'Nan traillean aig an fheoil;
'Se 'n deigh th' ac' air an ardan
A dh' fhagas iad 'n am broin.

Ach 's mor am bròn ri smuanachadh
Gun chaill an sluagh an còir,

A ni tha iad a buachailleachachd
Nach dean e buanachd dhoibh.

Nuair thig oidhche 'n uamhais oirn,

'S a bheir sinn suas an deo,

Gum b' fhearr dhuinn caoin an t' Slanuighear,

No na dh' fhagas sinn do stòr.

'S mor an ceo 's an dorchadas,

A thug air falbh ar cail,

Is sinn ag iarraidh beartais,

Far an d' fhairtlich e air cach.

Ar n-inntinn air a h' eigneachdainn,
Ge d' tha ar ceilidh gearr;

Bu mho againn na chaithe' sinn,
Na breitheanas is bàs.

'S nuair thig am bàs cha tillear e,
Cha 'n ionnan e 's gach tòir,
Cha 'n fhuirich e ri deisealas,
'S cha ghabh e leth-sgeul bròin.

Is mar a faigh sinn uidheam
Gu na slighe bi sinn fann;

Cha chuir an saoghal enodach oirnn,
No h-uile stor a th' ann.

An Ti a chaidh an urras oirnn,
'S a dh' fhuiling ris a chrann,
Mar dean E-fein ar teasairginn,
Cha bhi ar seasaidh ann.

Cha b' eagal dhuinn á teasairginn
Na seasadh sinn ri aithn',
Na 'n gabhadh sinn mar dhileab e
O's cionn gach ni, 's gach tàin,

Ach 's tur a mheall an saoghal oirnn,
'S an gaol a thug sinn dà;

Ged gheibheadh sinn na dh' iarradh sinn,
Cha riaraich e nar càil;

Oir tha nar càil do-riaraichte,
'S ar miann ga thoir air falbh,
Tha ar creidimh failingeach,
'S tha Namhaid air nar lorg.
Ghoid e ar cuid talantan,
Nuair thar e sud, san dorch;
An aite dhuinn 'bhi 'g aideachadh,
'S ann 'ghabh sinn aigneadh borb.
Cha dean bùirb ar sabhaladh,
Nuair thig am bàs mu'n cuairt;
Luchd mor-chuis agus ardain,
Theid an caradh anns an uaigh.

Cha 'n aith'near luchd a bheartais innte
Seach an t'aircleach truagh,

Ag cadal anns' a smuirich,

Far nach duisgear gu la-luain,

Mas th' ann a theaghlach Adhamh thu,

'S gur aill leat a bhi beo,

Faigh airmeachd gu da thearnadh,

O gach namhaid th' ort an toir.

Cuir creideamh mar sgiath didein ort,
'S na sin ach ris a chòir,

'S mar 'bi thu air an fhirinn

Theid do dhiteadh latha 'mhòid.

Tha latha 'mhoid sin uamhasach,

Do 'n t' sluagh as miosa càil;
Tha sinne 'faotainn tuaraisgeul,
Gur h-uamhasach an gair.

Bi'idh feadhainn eile luath-ghaireach,
Gun bhròn, gun ghruaim, gu bràth,
Toir cliu do'n Ti thug fuasgladh dhoibh,
S do 'n Uan th' air a dheas laimh.

BIOGRAPHIES OF LIVING HIGHLANDERS.-We understand that a series of Sketches of contemporary Highlanders is to appear in the Biograph, a monthly magazine, published in London, entirely devoted to "Men of our own Time," An interesting Biography of Mr Donald Macdougall, late Royal Tartan Warehouse, appears in the June number; and we are informed that one of the Rev. Alex. Stewart, F.S.A. Scot., ("Nether-Lochaber "), will appear in the issue for July, from the same pen. Others will follow.

A HIGHLAND LEGEND.

THERE was once upon a time a very cautious and prudent matron residing in a hamlet among the Highland hills. She had an only son whom she adored-which is a species of idolatry that mothers with only sons are given to. This son had fallen in love with a young girl in a neighbouring glen, and resolved to marry her. The mother was not very well pleased at this resolution on the part of her son, for she thought, as he was sufficient for her happiness, that she ought to have been sufficient for his. We have said, however, that she was a prudent woman, and so she resolved, rather than part with her son, to take his wife into her house also. The young people were married, the wife took up her abode in her mother-in-law's home, and the old lady resolved to test her new daughter-in-law's power to keep a secret before she would give her any of her confidences. The power of keeping a secret was always considered in the Highlands to be one of the cardinal virtues, and to this day the Southron is spoken of with contempt as one who wears his heart upon his sleeve for daws to peck at. "Ceilidh an Gall an rud nach eil fios aig air"; "The Lowlander will conceal what he does not know," being a frequent saying among the people. It is always more or less a painful arrangement to make a young wife live under the eyes and beneath the same roof as her mother-in-law. They may both be excellent women, but they are not in a position to appreciate each other, however sensible they are; the " women that own" a man are naturally rivals, and, therefore, there must be jealousy between them, more or less.

The Ruth and Naomi bond seldom exists out of the Bible, and there even it was formed in very exceptional circumstances, Testing the young wife in different ways seems to have been a frequent habit in these olden times. A skein of tangled yarn was given her to wind when she first came home, and if she lost her temper over it, so as to snap a single thread, she would not be trusted with any duty requiring delicate care or patience. In this instance it was the power of the young wife to keep a secret that was to be tested, and it was done as follows:

[ocr errors]

The elder lady one day, with an air of great importance and secrecy, took the young one aside and said she was going to tell her some awful secret, and that she must swear she would never reveal it to a human being, not even to her husband. The poor creature, flattered with such marks of confidence, and having her curiosity aroused, promised faithfully. Remember," said the old lady, "it is to the hearthstone I am telling it." "It is indeed," said the daughter-in-law, "for the hearthstone will repeat it before I will." Then, said the elder one, I will tell you what happened to me when I expected to have a child once. I was brought to bed of a cat, no one living knows it, and I would die rather than any one else would know it but yourself. The young woman was astonished at the terrible nature of the secret, but vowed that it would be faithfully kept, and that no human ear would ever hear the story from her. The poor creature was quite in earnest about keeping the secret, but alas for human weakness; it became a burden so heavy that she could not bear it,

« AnteriorContinuar »