Tha Tea saor gu leoir; cha'n eil sean chailleach sa'n duthaich aig nach 'eil a phoit dhubh aig taobh an teine. Agus tha ioma ni maith eile saor gu leoir mar an ceudna -na'n tigeadh daoine beo a reir an tighinn a stigh; ach se so direach a cheart ni nach dean iad. Tha 'n t-oran ceudna a labhairt gu glic agus a toirt deadh chomhairle anns an rann so: An naire bhochd gun chas gun lamh, Bi' t-fhaicill tra' mun lean i rnit. Ach tha da thaobh air gach ceist. "Tha da thaobh air bean a bhaillidh, 's da thaobh air bata 'n aisig." An deigh a h-uile rud a th'ann, feumaidh sinn a chuimhneachadh gu'n robh bliadhnachan maith aig na tuathanaich roimhe so, agus gun d' rinn moran dhiu fortainn ged nach aidich iad e. Air an aobhar, so, bu choir dhoibh bhi foighidneach. Tha 'n sean-fhocal a'g radh-"far am bi bo bi'dh bean, 's far am bi bean bi'dh buaireadh." Cha'n urrainn a h-uile beannachd a bhi aig neach as eugmhais deuchainnean. Cha'n eil bo no bean agam fhein, agus cha'n urrainn dhomh a radh gu 'bheil mi gu tur as eagmhais buaireadh. Ach tha a 'ghrian shiubhlach ann an gorm bhrat na'n speur, a dearsadh os mo cheann, tha na reultan ciuin an uair na h-oidhche, mar shuilean uile-leirsinnich Dhe a'g amharc a nuas orm le gradh; tha eoin na h-ealtuinn a seinn an ceilleirean binn a'm chluais; agus tha torman an uillt a toirt gairdeachas do'm chridhe. Mar sin, "Ged tha mi gun chrodh gun aighean, gun chrodh laoigh, gun chaoraich agam," tha mi sona gu leoir --"Tha mi taingeil toilichte, ged tha mo sporan gann." Fagaidh sinn a nis na tuathanaich, an spreidh, 'san cloimh, agus beachdaichidh sinn air na croitearan. Tha moran do na h-uachdairean 'nar measg ro chaoimhneil ris an t-seorsa so―agus cha mhor dhiu as urrainn a bhi air an coimeas ri Lochial, a tha sa chathair air an fheasgar so: chan e mhain nach eil e g'am fogradh as an fhearann san d'rugadh agus s'an d'fhuair iad an arach, ach, tha e air innseadh dhomhsa, nach deachaidh na mail a thogail fad mhoran bhliadhnachan. Air a shon so thugamaid cliu dha; tha beannachd nam bochd aige cheana, beannachd na banntraich, agus an dilleachdain. Ach tha iad ann nach eil cho iochdmhor, baigheil, cneasda. An aite bhi deanamh faire thairis air na h-iochdarain chum a'maith a chur air aghaidn, si'n fhaire "faire a chlamhain air na cearcan." Tha iad ann nach eil a smaointeachadh air ni sam bith ach airgiod, seilg agus feineachas-a tha'g amharc air an tuath bhig mar dhrobh dhamh no mhult gu bhi air an iomain agus air am bualadh air aghaidh a dh'ionnsidh na h-Eaglais-bhric. Cha cheil sinn nach robh e na bheannachd do mhoran de na Gaidheil 'b'bhi air an tilgeadh mar so a mach air aghaidh an t-saoghail, or shoirbhich moran diu ann an rioghachdan eile air dhoigh nach b'urrainn dhoibh a dheanadh air a chroit bhochd aig an tigh. Agus chan eil teagamh sam bith nach robh agus nach eil fathast. ann an ioma aite gillean oga a fuireach anns a bhothan agus a tighinn beo air an acair bhochd, a posadh agus a siolachadh an uair a bu choir dhoibh bhi gramail, sgairteil, dichiollach, gan cosnadh ann an aitibh eile. Cha'n aithne dhomh ni is truaighe agus is leibidiche na gille og a lunndaireachd 'sa slaodaireachd mu'n cuirt dorsan athar, aon uair a garadh a chas ris an teine, uair eile na sheasamh le thulchainn ri balla, a lamhann am pocannan a bbrigis gu uillean, agus piob thombaca 'na chraos. M' anam fhein; dh'allain gach mac mathar dhiu so a mach as an dachaidh. Ach se'n doigh sean spiorad anns sa'n deachaidh na croitearan a chur a seilbh, tha cianail graineil, tamailteach. Tha casaid mhor air a deanamh air na h-Eirionnaich aig an am so, airson an ceannairc agus an droch ghiulan. Cha'n urrainn neach sam bith na'r measg an dol air aghaidh a moladh. B'abhaist do dhaoine fochaid a dheanamh air na bagraidhean eagallach a bha na h-Erionnaich roimhe so a deanadh an aghaidh Shasunn agus Albainn ann am briath. ran cosmhuil ris an rann so : Thugaibh thugaibh! Bo! bo! bo! Faicill oirbh an taobh sin thall Nach toir e ceann a thiota dhibh. Ach an Eirinn aig an am so tha gnothuichean craiteach a dol air aghaidh, air nach urrainn duinn amharc le fochaid agus fala-dha. Ach cha'n eil mi cinnteach nach b'fhearrda na Gaidheil beagan tuilleadh na tha aca de naduir an Erionnaich agus gun diultadh iad cho fad sa tha na'n comas, agus gu riaghailteach, cur a suas leis gach ni a thogras iadsan a dheanadh aig am bheil coir air an fhearann. Si mo bharail nach fhada gus an tig an la so mu'n cuairt. Cha'n eil farmad agam ri cridhe an duine sin a thionndaidh muinntir a mach o'n tighean agus o'n dachaidh, gu sonraichte sean daoine, oir s' ann orra-san a's truime thuiteas a bhuille. O, cuimhnichibh nach b'iad clann Lot, nach b'iad buill og a theaghlaich, a dh'amhairc nan deigh, agus a stad 'sa chomhnard, nuair bha Sodom gu bhi air a sgrios. Bi an t-sean bhean, a chath a laithean anns a bhaile mhallaichte, a sheall le suil bhronaich na deigh air an dachaidh a chaidh a mhilleadh. Agus tha so nadurra gu leoir. Tha teaghlach a fagail tir an oige air son duthaich chein. Co dhiubh, saoil thusa, a tha do rireadh muladach, craiteach? Co na cridheachan a tha da rireadh air am fasgadh mar anart le bron? An iad, saoil thu, na mic agus na nigheana oga? O chan iad idir! Tha iadsan ag amharc air aghaidh le aoibhneas agus togradh ri fearann ur, ri tir a gheallaidh. Ach tha cridhe an t-sean duine thruaigh briste bruite. Am bothan bochd; an sruthan seimh; an cnocan uaine air cul an tighe, an fhraoch-bheinn mu'n cuairt air gach taobh; an eaglais san d'rinn e aoradh o' oige; a chill sam bheil athair agus a mhathair ghaolaich a gabhail tamh. O tha e cruaidh a bhi dealachadh riu uile gu brath. Ach tha am bata a feitheamh air an traigh; tha'n long air achdair anns a chaol, tha na siuil bhana cheana sgaoilte ris a ghaoith; tha am an dealaichidh air teachd. Tha an long a nis fo lan shiuil, tha'n soirbheas ga deoghal air falbh : agus air clar na luinge tha esan na sheasamh, ag amharc air beanntan agus air cladaichean a dhuthcha gus am bheil a shuilean, luchdaichte le deuraibh, a call-an-tseallaidh ma dheireadh air fearann a ghraidh. Tha mi a'g radh gur cruaidh an cridhe a chuireadh creutairean bochd mar so mun cuairt. Far a bheil mise a gabhail comhnuidh-Siorramachd Rois-cluinnidh tu na tuathanaich a'gearan nach urrainn iad luchd-oibre air paigheadh-latha fhaotainn mar bu mhaith leo. Ciamur a gheibh nuair nach eil na daoine ann? 'Nuair a chaidh am fogradh o'n dachaidh agus on duthaich? C'ait' an diugh a faighear saighdearan Gaidhealach a lionas suas na reisimeidean Gaidhealach, nuair a thig am a chruadail agus a chomhstri 'sa bhlar? C'ait' am bheil luchd an fheilidh nach geilleadh 'san stri? Tha iad an diugh an' tiribh cein. Beachdaichibh air an fhirinn so. Ann an leth cheud bliadhna chaidh tri fichead mile sa deich saighdear don arm Bhreiteannach as a Ghaidhealtachd. Agus mar a dh'innis a h-aon do chleir a bhaile so dhuinn, an t-Ollamh Macgriogair; chuir an t-Eilean Sgiathanach chum nan cogaidhean anns an do ghabh an rioghachd so pairt fo cheann corr 'us da fhichead bliadhna, se ceud-gu-leth oifigich, agus deich mile saighdear don arm. Cait am faigh thu ni sam bith cosmhuil ri sin air an la diugh? Chan eil a ni comasach idir-eadhon ged a rachadh a' ni sin a dheanadh a rinn bean uasal roimhe so-ceile Dhiuc Ghordain-a thalaidh agus a cho-eignich na fir do'n reisimeid le poig o'beul boidheach uasal fein. Feudaidh sinn a radh "Dh'fhalbh sud uile mar bhruadar, 's mar bhoinne buillsgein air uachdar na'n tonn." Ach si a cheist, Am bheil an rioghachd, luchd-riaghlaidh na rioghachd, a nochdadh mor ghliocais ann a bhi ceadachadh nithe do'n t-seorsa so tachairt agus dol air aghaidh ? "Tha'n sean fhacal a'g radh," 'S ann an deigh laimh a bhitheas an Gaidheal glic. 'Si mo bharail 's a gu bheil so fior mu thiomchioll tuille 'us na Gaidheal. Ann am batail na rioghachd cha robh saighdearan 'san arm cho treun seasmhach, cruadalach ri luchd a bhreacain agus ma dh'fheudte gu'n tig an t-am anns am faic an rioghachd so ni's soilleire na tha i a nis a faicinn, agus gu'n amhairc i air na nithibh agus na laithean a dh'fhalbh le bron agus aithreachas, an uair a bhitheas bron agus aithreachas diomhain agus gu'n sta. Feudaidh a Ghaidhealtachd briathran na' mnatha ri Ian a chleachdadh ris an Rioghachd "'Nuair thig am bothan, le chraos cam, A chlann n'an Gaidheal, seasaibh an guaillibh a cheile! Bithibh dileas do'n duthaich ga'm buin sibh: mairibh deigheil air cainnt 'ur mathar—agus na biodh naire oirbh gur Gaidheil sibh, agus gur Gailig 'ur ceud chainnt. Nair, an dubhairt mi? Dia ga m' chuideacheadh ! Nair a m' dhuthaich! Feudaidh e bhi gu bheil duthaichean ann is blaithe, is tioraile, is beartaiche; ach nam' shuilean-sa cha'n eil tir ann fo'n ghrein cho aluinn, chan eil blath ann cho boidheach ri fluran an fhraoich. Nair a m'chainnt ! Ma ni mi taire oirre, ma dhi-chuimhnicheas mi i, di-chuimhnicheadh mo lanih dheas a seoltachd, agus leanadh mo theangadh ri m' ghial! A chlann na'n Gaidheal, a rithist tha mi ag radh ribh, seasaibh an guaillibh a cheile! Gradhaichibh 'ur duthaich, irraibh maith 'ur luchd-duthcha ! Ruithibh le foighidinn an reis a chuireadh roimhibh. Dean greim daingean air na bheil agad, chum 's nach glac neach air bith do chrun." Buaidh leis Ghaidhealtachd fhad 'sa sheideas, gaoth r'a stucan. A mhuinntir mo ghraidh, slan leibh! An la chi 'sanch fhaic! Mr Maclachlan sat down amid deafening applause. The address was cheered throughout, and was one of the best and most eloquently delivered Gaelic speeches we have ever listened to. The "Reel of Tulloch," and more songs, occupied the second part of the proceedings, the performers being those who acted in the first part-Miss Watt, Miss Macdonald, and Mr Robertson again being loudly applauded and again encored. Miss Macdonald this time sang a Gaelic song, "Och Mar a Tha Mi," very sweetly; while Miss Watt, in "O whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad," was quite up to her usual, and called forth innumerable responses. A special feature of the proceedings was the singing of the following song to a popular old air, composed a few days previously by Mrs Mary Mackellar, on the recent attempt to rob the Highland regiments of their tartan : FLEASGACH AN FHUILT CHRAOBHAICH, CHAIS. A fhleasgaich an fhuilt chraobhaich chais, A fhleasgaich oig an or-fhuilt chais, C' ait' bheil sealladh fo'n ghrein, 'S a phearsa dhireach, chuimir, reidh, Caite 'm facas riamh air faiche, G'an robh 'm breacan dualach! Am bliadhna thainig fios a Lunainn, Na breacain ur g'an d'thug iad gaol, Iad bhi srachdadh bhar nan sar, Le laimh-laidir uaibhrich, Am feile gearr g'an d'thug iad gradh, 'S a bha mar phairt g'am buaidh dhoibh; 'S an uair a chuala sinn an sgeul, Gu'n d'eirich sinn le fuathas; Sgrog gach cuiridh 'bhoineid ghorm, Dh' eirich an Caimbeulach og, TULLOCH, in felicitous terms, proposed a vote of thanks to the Chairman and the performers, who, by their united efforts, had produced such an enjoyable entertainment. The proposal was heartily responded to, and Lochiel, in reply, after complimenting the singers and performers, said that he could not say that he had been much instructed by the Gaelic speech delivered by Mr Maclachlan. That was in consequence of his unfortunate want of acquaintance with the language, a want he greatly lamented. He only understood one word or two-the one being his own name-(laughter)—and the other the word "sporran." Mr Maclachlan's speech showed him one thing, and that was the wonderful power over their audience men had who spoke Gaelic. (Hear, hear, and applause). He had never heard a Gaelic The Gaelic speech delivered before, although he had listened to a Gaelic sermon. language produced a fluency which the English language did not possess. (Applause). Miss Chisholm, Namur Cottage, presided at the pianoforte, with her usual ability, and the whole arrangements were such as to reflect credit on the secretary, Mr Wm. Mackenzie, of the Aberdeen Daily Free Press. On the motion of Dean of Guild MACKENZIE, three hearty cheers were given for Tulloch, and the meeting broke up, every one being pleased with the entertainment. TRADITIONS OF STRATHGLASS. BY COLIN CHISHOLM. X. WHEN a boy, I was coming down from Glencannich with an old man who had the reputation of being one of the best Seanachies in the district. He delighted in impressing on young people the necessity of knowing the history, legends, and songs of the former inhabitants in the district. Crossing Torr-beatha, a rising ground that separates Glencannich from Strathglass, he pointed out a cairn at the north-east end of Blar-an-lochan, which he said was built to the memory of a Strathconan man, killed at that spot. The tradition he related regarding him is that a party of freebooters stole a herd of cattle from Strathconan. As soon as missed, the owners followed hot haste in pursuit. They overtook the thieves, with their "creach," on Torr-beatha. The leader of the Strathconan men, Mac Fhionnla Oig, it appears, was a brave man. He at once challenged the freebooters to turn the cattle or prepare for fight. They choose the latter alternative. Mac Fhionnla Oig engaged their leader, and instantly killed him, when another of the thieves levelled his gun at the victor, and shot him dead on the spot. Thus, in an instant, the leaders of the two parties were both dead on the top of Torr-beatha. The freebooters disappeared in all haste. The men in pursuit sent one of their number home with the sad news of the death of their leader. On the following day more Strathconan men arrived in strong force, and with the assistance of Strathglass and Glenstrathfarar men they carried the body of their dead hero across the high hills of Glencannich, and the still higher hills of Glenstrathfarrar and Glenorrin, to his native Strathconan. My infor mant stated that a sister of Mac Fhionnla Oig came along with the funeral party, and as soon as they raised the bier on their shoulders, she composed and sung the following plaintiff verses :— Oh! mo la deurach dubh, Eh! mo la deurach dubh, Oh! mo la deurach dubh, Mu 'n toir a bha 'n deis a chruidh. Oh! mo la deurach dubh, Eh mo la deurach dubh, Oh! mo la deurach dubh, D' fhag iad m' flear fein a muigh. Oh! mo la deurach dubh, Eh! mo la deurach dubh, Oh! mo la deurach dubh, Oh! mo la deurach dubh, 'S truagh nach be 'n de an diugh Having passed the ridge of Torr-bheatha, and descending the south side of it, we came in sight of the Clachan, or Cill-Bheathain, the burying ground in the upper part of Strathglass. My aged fellow-traveller took off his bonnet, and solemnly recited the pious oli salutation: Dhia beannaich an Clachan, Far am bheil m' ullaidh agus m' araic, Agus m' ailleaganan priseal. Passing Raon-Bhraid, my companion told me that, long ago, a woman went from this farm to the adjoining one of Easter Invercannich for the purpose of borrowing a griddle, wherewith to bake the Christmas bread. The snow was deep on the ground at the time. Although the distance between the two farms is only about half a mile, she felt fatigued, and sat down to rest at a place called Raon-ceann-a-ghlas, after which she resumed her walk, reached Invercannich, got the griddle, and retraced her steps homewards. On coming to the spot where she had halted on the outward journey, she was horrified to observe an infuriated wolf burrowing with all his might in the snow and earth, at the very place where she was so recently sitting. What was she to do? A battle for life was imminent, and there was not a moment to be lost. In this terrible plight the courageous woman determined to use the only weapon within her reach, and, raising the griddle, she, with all her strength, by a well-directed blow from the sharp edge, struck the ferocious animal on the small of the back, broke its bones, and cut the body in two. Some two or three months afterwards the same brave woman became the happy mother of a son, who grew up to be a famous hunter. It is said that a very rough place on the shady side of Glencannich, called Bacaidh-namMadadh, used to be infested with wolves; but the hunter alluded to succeeded in destroying them all. I heard the authorship of the pious salutation alluded to about the clachan attributed to Cailean Mac Alastair, a very old man, who lived long ago at Lietry, Glencannich. I was told that at the funeral of one of his children at Clachan, when the coffin was laid in the earth, he said, "This is the fifteenth coffin I have laid in this grave." He was reported to be the wisest man in the district. Let the reader judge for himself. He married five times, and succeeded in admirably adapting his own to the temper of his five different wives. It is said that an old woman, who nursed one of the Chisholms of Comar when he was a baby, remained in the family until he became a full-grown man. Whether he consulted his nurse on the choice of a wife, I do not know. Anyhow, when he married the lady of his choice, and took her home to Comar, her ladyship did not seem to come up to the nurse's standard of perfection. The old woman believing, however, that she could improve the young lady, was good enough to remain among the domestics for the purpose of carrying her theory into practice. After a few attempts to shape and mould the views and ways of the laird's lady, the old nurse became convinced that she had a will of her own and was determined to act upon it. About a year after the marriage his wife presented the Chisholm with an heiress. To obtain the opinion of the nurse of the new arrival, the infant was handed to her, and this is how the cruel woman saluted it: 'S toigh leam fein do leth a leinibh, Bho do mhullach gu d' bhonn, Ach 's truagh nach robh an leth eile dhiot, Na theine dearg do dharach donn. |