[21] Lochmaree is in the west of Ross-shire. It lies S.E. and N.W., and has 24 islets throughout its length of about 18 miles. Its breadth is from one to two miles, and its depth prevents its water from freezing.
GARLATHA.
A TRADITION OF HARRIS.
At one time it is said the outermost of the western isles formed three separate and independent possessions; the northern part of the Long Island (an t-eilean fada),[22] Lewis (Leòdhais), was held by one Cenmal (Ceannamhaol [baldhead]), who was a king, while the southern portion, Harris (na h-Earra), was owned by a prince; and another king, one named Keligan [thin one], possessed Uist, which is further south. In this way Lewis and Uist had each a king, while there was only a prince in Harris. This prince, who was famed for his courage and bravery, was held in great esteem by those on his land for the good advice (na comhairlean dealbhach) they readily got from him and the benefits he conferred on them. He discouraged bickerings and jealousy (farmad) among his subordinates and neighbours, and spread among them a knowledge of many useful arts. He encouraged manual labour as well as manly exercise and the recitation of poems, romance, etc. His wife, Garlatha, was not less namely for her goodness to those around her, among whom she promoted thrifty and industrious habits, and taught the use and methods of preparing different kinds of roots, grain and plants, for food and healing, and to be kind and tender to the weak and infirm, and to live good lives. In this way the people on their land were contented with their condition and sought no change. Garlatha died, it is said, about 800 A.D.—a long time ago, but whatever it was, she went away, (and it was not to be helped), leaving an infant daughter who was named after her mother, Garlatha. As the girl grew up it was seen that she inherited her mother’s good gifts, and the people were equally well pleased with her. In time she began to be spoken about and heard of, and was sought in marriage by numerous suitors. The king who ruled in Lewis was eager in pursuit of her (’an tòir oirre), and crossed over to see her. The ruler (fear-riaghlaidh) of Uist came on the same errand. One day then her father said to her, “Daughter, I wish to see you married, before the end of my life comes, to a good man, and I am looking to see which of those men who come to see you is the most suitable, and I see that it will suit you best to take him who is in Lewis.” His daughter preferred the one who owned Uist, but by her father’s advice word was sent to the possessor of Lewis to come and that he would get her. He came, and being well pleased with his reception every arrangement was made, and they were married. Afterwards the bride said to a maid, “You will go in to the entertainment (fleadh) and among the company: I am going to hide myself.” This was done, and the company sat at the feast without the bride, for whose coming a long delay was made. When it was seen that she would not return, the question of what had become of her or where she was, was asked of every one, but no one knew. The maid was asked, but she had not any knowledge or tale (fios no sgeul) to tell of where the lost one was to be found. The time was passing (bha ’n ùineachd ’ruith) and search was made outside for her, but she was not found. Then they looked for her from place to place, where it was possible to find her, but without success. The night passed, leaving the feast untouched and the guests cheerless. Next day the search was renewed along the shores and among the hills, and in every direction from day to day, till there was not a spot between Barra Head and the Butt of Lewis where a bird could sleep, that was not searched, but there was no trace of her (cha d’ fhuaireadh riamh i, cha d’ fhuaireadh idir i). The father continued to wander about, searching in vain, for many years after all hope of finding her was dead, till at last he was seen to turn every leaf he met with the staff in his hand, and even to look under ragweed (buaghallan). He died, and she was not found. The place, Harris, was then 200 years without any one to own it (thug an t-àite sin dà cheud bliadhna gun duine ann). MacLeod (fear Mac Leòid) then took possession of the country and began to build new houses; the old dwellings had become uninhabitable (air dol fàs); the roof had fallen in (thuit an ceann ’n am broinn). When clearing out one of these an old chest was found, and on lifting it the lower part remained on the ground, with the skeleton of a woman resting in it, each bone according to its place (cnàimh a réir cnàimh), and by its side the wedding-ring, as new as it was on the day it was put on her finger, with the name “Garlatha” engraved on it, and from that the story came.
NOTES:
[22] The Long Island includes the whole of the land between the Butt of Lewis and Barra Head.
STORIES ABOUT THE FAIRIES.
THE TRADITION OF A HOUSEWIFE AND HER FAIRY VISITOR.
The incidents of this tradition are said to have happened in Lewis, but the readiness with which similar stories are appropriated and localised makes it improbable that the circumstances occurred in any special locality. In this instance the person from whom the story was heard being a native of Lewis will account for the incidents of the story having been said to have taken place in that Island. The story is as follows:—
The wife of a tenant farmer, who lived with his family in an extremely remote and hilly rough district, was frequently left alone in the house, as she had no daughters, while her husband and sons were away at the labour of the farm, or fishing. It happened one day after they had left, that the housewife having finished her housework, sat as usual at the spinning-wheel to spin thread for cloth (clò) for their clothing. She had not long begun her labour, when, happening to look towards the door, she saw a little woman of reddish appearance coming in at the door with a dog before and one after her. “Woman,” she said, “you are spinning.” “I am,” the housewife answered. “Will you give me a drink of water?” she said. “Take it yourself,” the housewife said. “The water is good, where is the well?” she asked. “It is down,” said the one who was in, “in the opening of the hollow of the glen (aig dorus ’an lag a’ ghlinne).” The fay woman (a’ bhean-shìth) then asked the housewife to lend her a small cauldron, and the other woman believing her to be sister-in-law or some other relative she did not know of the wife of her nearest neighbour, who lived far distant from them and was married to an Ardnamurchan woman, said to her, “There is a table there with several utensils (caigionn choireachan) on its shelf; take with you any of them that will answer.” When she brought it, she asked for the suspender (bùlas) and lid. The moment she got them she fitted them in and told the dogs that were with her to take that with them. The dogs immediately caught the three-legged pot and took it with them. When her husband came home the housewife said, “I think there is a stranger with our neighbours,” and told him about her visitor. “Perhaps,” her husband said, “she is the sister-in-law; it was time some one came to see the wife, for none of her friends have been since she came here.” “I never saw the sort of dogs she had, ever here,” his wife said, and described to him the dogs and how they were different altogether from sheep-dogs. “Our neighbours have only one dog and it is a sheep-dog,” he said. This day passed and another and the third, but the cauldron was not returned. The housewife then sent one of her sons to ask the neighbours to return the loan. These said that they did not get a loan of anything, as they did not require it, having more cauldrons and kettles than was required by themselves, and that no strangers had come or were with them. The housewife was at her wit’s end and did not know in the world or time to come (uile bheatha na dìlinn) what to think about the matter. On the fifth day, however, the self-same one returned with the cauldron. “I am sure,” she said, “that you were missing the cauldron.” “I was,” the housewife replied, “not from any need I had of it at the time, but because I did not know who the one was that took it away.” “I am sure you did not know who took it,” said the one that came in, “but I knew you too well; many a day you sang songs above my house (’s iomadh latha ’sheinn thu luinneag air mullach an tigh agam).” “Will you sit?” said the one who was spinning. “I will sit and tell my story if you are sure that no one will come in while I am here.” As was customary in those days the byre adjoined the dwelling-house, whatever kind of wall (sgàth-balla) separated them, and one of the cows that had calved and was in the byre, made a disturbance (straighlich). The next look the woman took she was alone. On her husband’s return, she said, “You may not leave me here alone; one of the children must be left with me or I will be where you are;” and she told him about the second time her strange visitor came and how suddenly she had disappeared. The goodman then went for advice to one, the minister, who he knew was able to give him good counsel. On telling about the undesirable visitor his wife had, the advice he got was that he was to pull down his house as quickly as possible, and to put it at the other end of the land; “and when you will pull down your house, every particle (h-uile pioc) of the thatch that covers it is to be burnt within the rafters on which nine cogfuls of sea-water or charmed (naoi cuachan sàile no uisge coisrigte) is to be poured.” The goodman returned home with this advice. When his wife heard it she said that she must get women to help her to finish the cloth she was working at, and it was agreed to give her the help she required. On account of the dampness of the houses the method of keeping the thread and wool dry was by hanging them up to the rafters. Next morning the goodwife missed a pile of wool from its place, but believing that it was her son, who often played pranks on her, who had removed it, she said nothing regarding its disappearance. Next day, however, she was astonished at seeing her late strange visitor with another and a taller one coming in. “I am sure,” said the little redhued one, “you were missing the bag of wool We took it with us to help you, and there it is brought home made into thread, and your own thread that we took with us for a pattern (leth-bhreac); and any time you have thread to spin, we are ready to help you.” The goodwife was overcome with fear and could not utter a word to them. They went away, and she never saw themselves or their shadow (an dubh no’n dath) ever afterwards. The house was taken down and another was built where they chose it to be, but after some time an old man saw five of the fairy company leaving the well at the foot of the glen, each carrying a vessel full of water, and the place where he saw them going in and lost sight of them, was afterwards quarried, and the stone taken from it was employed to build a church that stands at the present day. An opening that was met with, in the quarry, where human bones were found, was supposed to be the place where the fairy band entered their dwelling.