FEAR A’GHEADAIN CLÒIMHE
Bha fear air astar uaireigin mu thuath, a réir coslais, mu
Shiorramachd Inbirnis. Bha e a’ coiseachd là, ‘us chunnaic e fear a’buain
sgrath leis an làr -chaipe. Thainig e far an robh an duine. Thubhairt e ris, "Oh,
nach sean sibhse, ‘dhuine, ris an abair sin." Thubhairt an duine ris, "Oh,
nam faiceadh tu m’athair, is e a’s sine na mise." "D’athair
ars’ an duine, "am bheil d’athair beò ‘s an t-saoghal fhathasd?"
"Oh, tha" ars’ esan. "Càite am bheil d’athair" ars’
esan, "am b’urrainn mi ‘fhaicinn?" "Uh, is urrainn"
ars’ esan, "tha e a’tarruing dhathigh nan sgrath." Dh’innis e an
rathad a ghabhadh e ach am faiceadh e ‘arthair. Thàinig e far an robh e. Thubhairt e
ris, "Nach sean sibhse, ‘dhuine, ris an obair sin." "Uh, ars’
esan, "nam faiceadh tu m’athair, is e a ‘s sine na mise." "Oh, am
bheil d’athair’s an t-saoghal fhatasd?" "Uh, tha", ars’
esan. "C’aite am bheil e" ars’ esan, " an urrainn mi
‘fhaicinn?" "Uh, is urrainn," ars’ esan, "tha e
a’tilgeadh nan sgrath air an tigh." Ràinig e am fear a bha ‘tilgeadh nan
sgrath. "Oh, nach sean sibhse, ‘dhuine, ris an obair sin," ars’ esan.
"Uh, nam faiceadh tu m’athair," ars’ esan, "tha e mòran na
‘s sine na mise." Am bheil d’athair agam r’a fhaicinn?" "Uh,
tha," ars’ esan,"rach timchoil, ‘us chi thu e a’cur nan
sgrath." Thainig e ‘us chunnaic e am fear a bha ‘cur nan sgrath. "Oh,
a dhuine" ars’ esan, "is mòr an aois a dh’fheumas sibse a bhi."
"Oh," ras’ esan, "nam faiceadh tu m’athair." "An
urrainn mi d’athair fhaicinn?" ars’ esan, "C’àite am bheil
e?" "Mata" ars’ an duine, is òlach tapaidh coltach thu, tha mi
‘creidsinn gu’m faod mi m’athair a shealltuinn duit. "Tha e,"
ars’ esan, "stigh ann an geadan clòimhe an ceann eile an tighe." Chaidh e
stigh leis’g a fhaicinn. Bha na h-uile gin diùbhsan ro mhòr, nach ‘eil an
leithid a nid r’a fhaotainn. "Tha duine beag an so," ars esan,
‘athair, "air am bheil coslas òlaich thapaidh, Albannach, ‘us toil aige
‘ur faicinn." Bruidhinn e ris, ‘us thubbairt e, "Co as a thàinig thu?
Thoir dhomh do làmh, ‘Albannach." Thug a mhac làmh air seann choltair croinn a
bha ‘na luidhe làimh riu. Shnaim e aodach uime. "Thoir dha sin," ars’
esan ris an Albannach, "‘us na toir dha do làmh." Rug an seann duine air
a’ choltair, ‘us a’ cheann eile aig an duine eile ‘na làimh. An àite
an coltair a bhi leathann, rinn e cruinn e, ‘us dh’fhàg e làrach nan cuig meur
ann, mar gu’m bitheadh uibe taois ann. "Nach cruadalach an làmh a th’agad,
‘Albannaich," ars’ esan, "Nam bitheadh do chridhe cho cruadalach,
tapaidh, dh’iarrainnse rud ort nach d’iarr mi’air fear roimhe."
"Ciod e sin, a dhuine?" ars’ esan, "ma tha ni ann a’s ussainn
mise ‘dheannamh, ni mi e." "Bheirinnse dhuit" ars’ esan,
"fideag a tha an so, agus fiosr aichidh tu far am bheil Tòm na h-iùbhraich, laimh
ri Inbhirnis, agus an uair a theid thu ann, chì thu creag bheag, ghlas, air an dara taobh
dheth. An uair a’theid thu a dh’ionnsuidh na creige, chi thu mu mheudachd
dorius, ‘us air cumadh dorius bhige air a’chreig. Buail sròn do choise air trì
uairean, ‘us air an uair mu dheireadh fosgailidh e. Dh’fhalbh e, ‘us
ràinig e ‘us fhuair e an dorus. Thubhairt an seann duine ris, "An uair a
dh’fhosgaileas tu an dorus, sirmidh tu an fhìdeag, bheir thu tri seirmean oirre
‘us air an t-seirm mu dheireadh," ars’ esan, "eiridh leat na bhitheas
stigh, ‘us ma bhitheas tu cho tapaidh ‘us gun dean thu sin, is fheairrd thu
fhéin e ‘us do mhac, ‘us d’ogha, ‘us d’iar-ogha. Thug e
a’cheud sheirm air an fhìeag. Sheall e’us stad e. Shìn na coin a bha’n an
luidhe làthair ris na daoinibh an cosan.’us charaich na daoine uile. Thug e an ath
sheirm oirre. Dh’éirich na daoine air an uilnibh ‘us dh’éirich na coin
‘n an suidhe. Thionndaidh am fear ris an dorus, ‘us ghabh e eagal. Tharruing e
an dorus ‘n a dhéigh. Ghlaodh iadsan uile gu léir, "Is miosa
‘dh’fhàg na fhuair, is miosa ‘dh’fhàg na fhuair."
Dh’fhalbh e ‘n a ruith. Thàinig e gu lochan uisge, a bha an sin, ‘us thilg
e an fhìdeag anns an lochan. Dhealaich mise riu.
THE MAN IN THE TUFT OF WOOL
There was a man once on a journey in the north, according
to all appearance in the sheriffdom of Inverness. He was travelling one day, and he saw a
man casting divots with the flaughter-spade. He came to where the man was. He said to him,
"Oh, you are very old to be employed in such work." The man said to him,
"Oh, if you saw my father, he is much older than I am." "Your father",
said the man, "is your father alive in the world still ?" "Oh, yes",
said he. "Where is your father?" said he, "could I see him?" "Oh,
yes," said he, "he is leading home the divots." He told him what way he
should take in order to see his father. He came where he was. He said to him," You
are old to be engaged in such work." "Oh," said he, "if you saw my
father, he is older than I." "Oh, is your father still in the world?"
"Oh, yes", said he . "Where is your father?" said he; "can I see
him!" "Oh, yes," said he, "he is reaching the divots at the
house." He came to the man who was reaching the divots. "Oh, you are old,"
said he," to be employed in such work". "Oh, if you saw my father,"
said he, " he is much older than I." "Is your father to be seen?",
said he. "Oh yes, go round the house and you will see him laying the divots on the
roof." He came and he saw the man who was laying the divots on the roof. "Oh
man," said he, "you must be a great age." "Oh, if you saw my
father." "Oh can I see your father; where is he?" "Well", said
the man, "you look like a clever fellow; I daresay I may show you my father."
"He is," said he, " inside in a tuft of wool in the further end of the
house." He went in with him to show him to him. Every one of these men was very big,
so much so that their like is not to be found now. "There is a little man here,"
said he to his father, "who looks like a clever fellow, a Scotchman, and he is
wishful to see you." He spoke to him, and said, "Where did you come from? Give
me your hand, Scotchman." His son laid hold of the old coulter of a plough that lay
there. He knotted a cloth around it. "Give him that," said he to the
Scotchman," and don’t give him your hand." The old man laid hold of the
coulter, while the man held the other end in his hand. Instead of the coulter being broad,
he made it round, and left the mark of his five fingers in it as if it were a lump of
leaven. "you have a brave hand, Scotchman," said he, " If your heart were
as brave and clever, I would ask something of you that I never asked of another."
"What is that, man?", said he; "if there is anything I can do, I shall do
it." "I would give you", said he , "a whistle that I have here, and
you will find out where Tomnahurich is near Inverness, and when you find it you will see a
little grey rock on one side of it. When you go to the rock you will see about the size of
a door, and the shape of a little door in the rock. Strike the point of your foot three
times, and at the third time it will open." He went away, and he reached and found
the door. "When you open the door," the old man said, " you will sound the
whistle; you will sound it thrice. At the third sounding all that are within will rise
along with you; and if you be clever enough to do that, you, and your son, and your
grandson, and your great-grandson, will be the better of it." He gave the first sound
on the whistle. He looked, and he stopped. The dogs that lay near the men stretched their
legs, and all the men moved. He gave the second sound. The men rose on their elbows, and
the dogs sat up. The man turned to the door, and became frightened. He drew the door after
him. They all cried out,"Left us worse than he found us; left us worse than he found
us." He went away running. He came to a little fresh water loch that was there, and
he threw the whistle into the loch. I left them.