RUBBING HAIR THE WRONG WAY
The reciter’s grandfather was a Stratherrick man (Loch Ness), and when attending the market there, was approached by another man to sell him a stirk. There was a good deal of bargaining. No agreement was come to, the offerer leaving as if dissatisfied. Before the market closed the stirk fell to the ground and could not be got to rise. F.’s suspicions of course fell upon the rejected offerer. An acquaintance who also was attending the market, and was supposed to have eolas, happened to come about, and seeing F. in distress reassured him: “Cha’n eagal do’n bheachan a laochain.” (“No fears of the beast, my lad.”) He then drew the palm of his hand up the stirk’s back against the hair, repeating words which the reciter, however, had never heard. The stirk got on its feet and was soon brisk and well.