The Changeling.
A couple of Strathspey lads who dealt in whiskey that never paid duty, which they used to purchase in Glenlivat, and sell at Badenoch and Fort William, were one night laying in stock at Glenlivat when they heard the child in the cradle give a piercing cry, just as if it had been shot. The mother, of course, blessed it, and the Strathspey lads took no further notice, and soon after set out with their goods. They had not gone far when they found a fine healthy child lying all alone on the road-side, which they soon recognised as that of their friend. They saw at once how the thing was. The fairies had taken away the real child and left a stock, but, owing to the pious ejaculation of the mother, they had been forced to drop it. As the urgency of their business did not permit them to return, they took the child with them, and kept it till the next time they had occasion to visit Glenlivat. On their arrival they said nothing about the child, which they kept concealed. In the course of conversation, the mother took occasion to remark that the disease which had attacked the child the last time they were there had never left it, and she had now little hopes of its recovery. As if to confirm her statement, it continued uttering most piteous cries. To end the matter at once, the lads produced the real child healthy and hearty, and told how they had found it. An exchange was at once effected, and they forthwith proceeded to dispose of their new charge. For this purpose they got an old creel to put him in and some straw to light under it. Seeing the serious turn matters were likely to take, he resolved not to await the trial, but flew up the smoke-hole, and when at the top he cried out that things would have gone very differently with them had it not been for the arrival of their guests.
The Wounded Seal.
There once dwelt on the northern coast, not far from Taigh Jan Crot Callow (John o' Groat's House), a man who gained his living by fishing. He was particularly devoted to the killing of the seals, in which he had great success. One evening just as he had returned home from his usual occupation, he was called upon by a man on horseback who was an utter stranger to him, but who said that he was come on the part of a person who wished to make a large purchase of seal-skins from him, and wanted to see him for that purpose that very evening. He therefore desired him to get up behind him and come away without any delay. Urged by the hope of profit he consented, and away they went with such speed that the wind which was in their backs seemed to be in their faces. At length they reached the verge of a stupendous precipice overhanging the sea, where his guide bade him alight, as they were now at the end of their journey. "But where," says he, "is the person you spoke of?" "You'll see him presently," said the guide, and, catching hold of him, he plunged with him into the sea. They went down and down, till at last they came to a door which led into a range of apartments inhabited by seals, and the man to his amazement now saw that he himself was become one of these animals. They seemed all in low spirits, but they spoke kindly to him, and assured him of his safety. His guide now produced a huge gully or joctaleg, at sight of which, thinking his life was to be taken away, he began to cry for mercy. "Did you ever see this knife before?" said the guide. He looked at it and saw it was his own, which he had that very day stuck into a seal who had made his escape with it sticking in him. He did not, therefore, attempt to deny that it had been his property. "Well," said the guide, "that seal was my father. He now lies dangerously ill, and as it is only you that can cure him, I have brought you hither." He then led him into an inner room, where the old seal lay suffering grievously from a cut in his hind quarters. He was then desired to lay his hand on the wound, at which it instantly healed, and the patient arose hale and sound. All now was joy and festivity in the abode of the seals, and the guide, turning to the seal-hunter, said, "I will now take you back to your family, but you must first take a solemn oath never again to kill a seal as long as you live." Hard as the condition was, he cheerfully accepted it. His guide then laid hold on him, and they rose up, up, till they reached the surface of the sea, and landed at the cliff. He breathed on him and they resumed the human form. They then mounted the horse and sped away like lightning till they reached the fisherman's house. At parting his companion left with him such a present as made him think light of giving over his seal-hunting.
The Brownies.
Two Brownies, man and woman, were attached to the ancient family of Tullochgorm, in Strathspey. The former was named Brownie-Clod, from a habit he had of flinging clods at passers-by; the latter was called Maug Vuluchd (i.e., Hairy Mag), on account of her great quantity of hair. She was a capital housekeeper, and used invisibly to lay out the table in the neatest and handiest manner. Whatever was called for came as if floating through the air. She kept a very strict hand over the maids, with whom she was no great favourite, as she reported their neglect of duty to their mistress. Brownie-Clod was not so pawky, and he was constantly overreached by the servants, with whom he used to make contracts. He, however, was too able for them on one occasion. He had agreed with two of them to do their whole winter's threshing for them, on condition of getting in return an old coat and a Kilmarnock hood to which he had taken a fancy. He wrought away manfully, and they had nothing to do but lie at their ease on the straw and look on. But before the term was expired they laid the coat and hood for him in the barn. The moment Brownie laid his eyes upon them he struck work, using the words prefixed to this section of our volume.
Martyn describes the Brownie of the Western Isles as a tall man, and he tells a story of his invisibly directing a person, at Sir Norman M'Leod's, who was playing at draughts, where to place his men.