in the poetry and proverbs of the Gael than any other hawk, caused doubtless by its being distinguished from all others by its beautiful forked tail, which seems to have drawn attention at a very early age, as Pliny mentions that the invention of the rudder arose from the observation men made of the various motions of that part when the kite was steering through the air. The kite used to be a great torment to the thrifty Highland housewives, as he was very fond of making a swoop on the barnyard and carrying off a fat fowl as often as he got the chance, to which bad habit the following old Gaelic proverbs refer:— B'e sin faire 'chlamhain air na cearcan; One of Duncan Ban Macintyre's most humerous songs refers to a practical joke by a certain Patrick on a farm in Glenorchy, who one night about dark saw a very fine favourite cock go to roost on the top of the house, and then went in and told some young fellows that it was a large kite that was roosting on the housetop. One of them at once got out an old rusty gun and shot the poor cock. This untoward incident inspired Duncan Ban's muse to write the "Marbhrann Coilich." COMMON BUZZARD. Latin-Buteo Vulgaris. Gaelic-Gearr-chlamhan, Clamhan, Bleideir. Welsh-Bod teircaill. Any one who studies the Gaelic names of birds, as well as of plants, &c., must be struck with the very appropriate and descriptive names given them by our early ancestors, and with the knowledge of the nature and habits of the birds they must have had at the early date when those names would be given, as will be seen, not only in the names themselves, but in our ancient poetry and proverbs as well. The Gaelic name for the Buzzard-" Am Bleideir❞—is very appropriate, as it is a very lazy, cowardly bird: all writers on birds blame him for that. One says- "The Buzzard just as frequently seems to wait until its prey comes to it, as trouble itself to go far in search of it." An old Gaelic proverb says "Cha'n ann gun fhios c'arson a nian clamhan fead," alluding to the buzzard's habit of whistling when hunting for his prey, which, of course, is as seldom as possible. And as he is a carrion-eating hawk, and will devour all sorts of rubbish, he did not get credit for bringing up his family in a cleanly way, for does not another old proverb say "Cha d'thainig ian glan riamh a nead a' chlamhain -ap plied to people from whom very much good is not to be expected, owing to the stock from which they are sprung. ROUGH-LEGGED BUZZARD. Latin-Buteo lagopus. Gaelic-Bleideir-tonach, Bleideir-molach. The name of Bleideir-tonach, by which this bird is always known in Athole, is very descriptive, as his very rough feathered legs, which give him his English name, make him look rather heavy and clumsy behind. To any bulky, clumsy, bungling fellow the old forcible Athole phrase is applied “ Nach e am Bleideir-tonach e." In the New Statistical Account of Dunkeld mention is made of the great number of Rough-legged Buzzards that appeared in that parish during the winter of 1840. HONEY BUZZARD. Latin-Peruis apivorus. Gaelic--Bleideir-riabhach, ClamhanWelsh-Bod-y-mel. riabhach, Para-riabhach. The last Gaelic name, "Grey Peter," is that by which this bird is known in Glenlyon. MARSH HARRIER. Latin-Circus rufus. Gaelic-Clamhan-loin, Puthaig. Welsh— Bod y gwerni. HEN HARRIER. Latin-Circus cyaneus. Gaelic--Breid-air-toin, Eun fionn (male) Clamhan-fionn, Clamhan-luch. Welsh-Barcud glas. The last Gaelic name, signifying mouse-hawk, is the name given to this bird in the Hebrides, as those mischievous little animals form a great part of its food there. land. MONTAGU'S HARRIER. Latin-Circus Montagui. Gaelic-Clamhan-luch. This is known as the mouse-hawk on the mainland of Scot EAGLE OWL. Latin - Bubo maximus. Gaelic-Cumhachag-mhor, Cailleachoidhche-mhor. Welsh-Y Ddyliuan fawr. The Eagle Owl is very rare now. One was shot near the Pass of Killicrankie a few years ago. Latin--Otus vulgaris. aiche. LONG-EARED OWL. Gaelic-Comhachag, Cumhachag-adhar" SHORT-EARED OWL. Latin-Otus Brachyotus. Gaelic-Cumhachag-chluasach. Welsh -Dylluan glustiog. BARN OWL. Latin-Strix flammea. Gaelic - Cumhachag, Cailleach-oidhche, Cailleach-oidhche-bhan, Cumhachag-Bhan. Welsh-Dylluan wen. The hooting of this owl is supposed in the Highlands to foretell rain, hence the old saying "Tha 'chomhachag ri bron, thig tuiltean oirnn"-the owl is mourning; rain is coming. 25TH MARCH 1885. On this date G. H. Campbell, grocer, Church Street, Inverness, and Duncan Macmillan, assistant grocer, High Street, do., were elected ordinary members. The Secretary read a paper by Mrs Mary Mackellar, Bard of the Society, on the Educational Power of Gaelic Poetry. Mrs Mackellar's paper was as follows: : THE EDUCATIONAL POWER OF GAELIC POETRY. When a stranger visits the Highlands for the first time, he must be to some extent forgiven for concluding that the shaggy and rudely-clad natives are ignorant and miserable. He sees a people dwelling too often in smoky huts that are dingy and comfortless, and living on a diet so plain as to seem to the educated palate near akin to starvation. Then he considers their language a jargon that keeps him from any spirit contact with the speaker thereof; and, worse than all, he has probably read the remarks of some travelled Cockney who took a run through some district of the Highlands, and considered himself so well informed as to air his knowledge, or rather his ignorance, of the people and their habits in the pages of some periodical, or in the columns of a newspaper. All who read these come, as as matter of course, in contact with our people with preconceived ideas; and we all know that preconceived ideas set a traveller at a very serious disadvan tage. I, at least, found it so on my first visit to London. I was very much disappointed to find that, though the Royal Augusta wore an imperial crown, and was clothed in purple, she had naked feet that were anything but clean, and the hems of her robes were torn and muddy. I had expected a glorious vision of glittering grandeur, and upon asking myself concerning the foundation of such an expectation, I found it was no deeper than my first nursery rhyme "Give me a pin, to stick in my thumb, To carry my lady to London toon- Perhaps the sneers of the travelled Cockney given in the pages of some newspaper had also affected me, and deepened my impression, that poverty and comfortless homes were evils unheard of in the great centre of civilisation, and that the favoured denizens of that land of light and sunshine saw filth, squalour, and poverty for the first time in our Highland glens. Going to London with such preconceived ideas, I got a shock when I found that the travelled Cockney had been trying to draw an impossible parallel between his own home and the cots of our peasantry. For, verily, our people on strath, glen, or mountain side lead beautiful, poetic lives, when compared with the dwellers in the slums and alleys of London. They may have lowly cots, and have many privations and hardships, but they have also many blessings, and much to give zest to life. They are, verily, like the strong, finely flavoured, brightly blooming heather on the hils; and those dwellers in the slums like the sickly plants they attempt to grow in their windows, without sunshine, and in a poisoned atmosphere. The Highlander has all day long the fresh air of heaven, the fragrance of the flowers, the ozone of the sea, and the pure sunshine-all of them unbought gifts showered freely from the Great Father, who made the country, and whose choicest blessings belong to those of His children who are reared in His own immediate presence and in His temples not made by human hands. These temples have the mountains for their walls, and the blue sky for their dome; and they are carpeted by flowers of a thousand hues, and the voices of the winds are like diapasons called forth from a mighty organ played by His own Almighty hand, and the little birds are choristers singing in unison; and surely such a choir should have a more civilising effect than the penny-gathering organ-grinder of the city, even if he has the addition of a grinning monkey who is a very adept in gymnastics. The southern traveller who stays long enough in our mountain land to learn to know our people will be astonished to find how they have been misrepresented. He will find modest and beautiful maidens, and brave, true-hearted men who would de light with kindly souls and willing hands to serve him in his hour of need. He will find faithfulness among servants, courtesy and politeness among all classes. Not only so, but he will find a people who are educated even in the face of an entire ignorance of the three R's. All ideas of education are not necessarily confined to a knowledge of letters. Good stout old Earl Douglas was a perfect gentleman, I am sure, although he could thank St Dunstan that no son of his save Gawain could e'er pen a line; and so many a gallant Highlander, notwithstanding his ignorance of letters and even of the English language which is considered the high road to all culture, is an educated, well-informed man, full of high and noble thoughts, and having a very mine of knowledge. For this the Highlanders have been greatly indebted to an institution which mistaken though, perhaps, well-meaning, men have wrested from them-the Ceilidh. There the young mind, thirsting to drink from the fountains of knowledge, got it night by night orally, as our students in our Universities get it from their Professors: only these, instead of taking notes on paper, have every word graven on the tablets of the soul. There the youth heard a store of legends that no Arabian Nights could excel; there he heard the proverbs of his country fraught with philosophy and profoundest wisdom. He heard the battles of his country retold there, and learned to think of the hero as the great pattern to be imitated, and of the coward as the most despicable being in creation. To have had anyone of his kith and kin obliged to stand at the church, taking his tongue between his fingers and saying, "Sid am bleidire a theich," would be worse than death. The stories told at the Ceilidh were full of love and romance, but they always had a good moral, and the genius of the language in which they were told was of so lofty a kind that the unlettered could talk it in all its nervous eloquence and intensity, as well as in all its pathos and power, without the artificial aids of grammar or etymological manual. The young people at the Ceilidh drank in their mother tongue as they had drunk their mother's milk pure and unadulterated from their mother's breasts. The young man would go away from the Ceilidh elevated by the knowledge he had acquired there. He knew he was not a stray atom in creation. He had listened to the tales told of his clan, and felt that the halo encircling the brows of the heroes of his race reflected a glory upon him. His heart swelled with pride, and the greatness of the heroes of his race would have to be transmitted by him unclouded to his children. There was thus an obligation laid upon him, and he dared not do anything to bring shame to the |