office. But the proverb about dead men's shoes proved true here also. Maclean Valegui was a man of education and intelligence, and had a good deal to do with the management of the North Uist estate. His subordinate, our bard, a namesake and distant relative, presuming on the other's good nature, exercised his wit sometimes at the worthy man's expense. How he expected the demise of the man who stood in the way of his promotion, how he feared that even death could not prevent such a worldly man from visiting the glimpses of the moon, and disturbing Donald in the enjoyment of his newly acquired possessions and position-all this with the anticipation of coming disappointment the necessity of scattering the family among the friends, and of sending his wife to the Pope, where she would add no more to the population, comes out in the song ORAN DO IAIN RUADH VALEGUI. 'S mairg a thachair anns an aite Ach tha mi 'n duil nuair thig am Bailidh 'Nuair gheibh Iain Ruadh Mac Eachain bas, Bi Valegui fo m' spògan; 'S leam an Ruchdi, 's leam a Phairce, 'S leam a machair mar a tha e ; 'S leam a-huile dad a dh'fhag e, 'S gearrachan Ath-leodair. Gur e mise bhios gu h-uallach, Le mo chruachan mora, H-uile h-aon a thig mu'n cuairt, Their "Bhusinn e Bhuain e Dhomhuill !" Cha bhi punndadh cha bhi fangadh ; Cha bhi sion air bith de aimhreit; H-uile duine riamh an Sannda, Tigh 'n a nall 'ga m' chomhradh Ach fear tha riutsa cho gàbhaidh, Ach na faighinn gillean tapaidh, Cheangladh do lamhan 's do chasan, Le buill ghasda chocraich ; Chum 's gu'n aithnichinn thu'n am eirigh, Mar gu'm biodh each 'us di-leum air, 'S theichinn fein do'n mhointich ! Sguiridh mi nis de mo rabhard, Roinnidh mi a' chlann air na cairdean 'S gabhaidh mi fein le mo mhathair, Donald was not always, however, in the humour of running down Camairt. Once, in a way, when his wife seems to have been discontented with the change from the fine fertile fields of her native Dun-Gaineachaidh to the rugged lands about Lochmaddy, he assumes the role of admirer of the " Camairt," and in the following metrical dialogue they support opposite sides of the question: Esan. A Chamairt bhoidheach 'sam bheil mo chomhnuidh, Air son do bhoichead cha bharrachd bosd domh, Ma's fear bhios beo mi cha bhi mi dòlum, 'S bi cuach 'us smeorach a' deanamh ceol domh, 'S mi treabhadh mointich le m' each 's le m' crann. Ise. Ciod am fath dhuit a bhi 'ga' raitinn, As fios aig cach nach e sin a th’ann, Ach aite grannda nach cinnich barr ann, Do chrodh a ranaich 's gun sguap 's an athaidh, 'S mar faigh a bhlarag e ann a Bhalaidh, Esan. Tha mnathan gorach 'us tusa d' oinsich, Tha moran neonachas ann a' d' cheann, Tha muir 'us mointeach gu maith 'ga d' chomhnadh, Tha sobhrach chùbhraidh 'us lili dhu-ghorm, A fas gu dluth air a chreig ud thall; 'S cha'n 'eil 's an duthaich ni 's fearr an cùmhradh Ise. 'S iomadh caochladh a thig air daoine, 'S tha mise smaointeachadh air 's an am; gun Cha 'n falbh mi comhnard gun bhat a' m' laimh ; Esan. Ma ghabh thu 'n t-ardan 's nach fan thu làmh rium, As ruig am Pàpa sin tha thu 'gradh, 'S a dh'aindeoin crabhaidh cha'n fhan thu ann; Bi mi 's mo phaisdean 'nam mhonadh aghmhor, Le bainne 's blathaich 's cais' 'us meang, 'S bheir mi discharge dhuit air do dhearna, In this short poem the bard gives himself the last word in the controversy—it must be confessed a somewhat unusual experience when similar differences arise-but apart from that, it may be doubted whether he acts the apologist for "Camairt" with the same zest and success as he plays the part of critic in the two previous poems. No doubt in the last case his task was more difficult. Another Uist bard, of whose compositions the song that follows alone is extant, was "Nial Ruadh Mor," or Neil Macvicar. He lived at Vallay, in North Uist, and emigrated to Cape Breton upwards of 60 years ago, where he continued to woo the muses. The humour of "Oran nan Cat" leads us to think that his transAtlantic verses must have also been worth preserving, but whether they live in the memory of the generation that followed is indeed more than doubtful. As to "Oran nan Cat," the story was that on the night of a fiddler's wedding, and after the close of the festivities, a number of the neighbouring cats congregated to where the bagpipes had been deposited, to whose strains the merrymakers had tripped the "light fantastic toe," and greedily devoured the sheep-skin bag, so essential a part of the national instrument. We do not know whether, like the fox, they congratulated themselves on the combination of meat and music; but they fought and lacerated one another over the division of the spoil, each endeavouring to get the lion's share. But as they did not go the length of the Kilkenny cats, they were able afterwards to moralise on the situation. When the period of reflection came, they were sadder and wiser cats, and their reminiscences of their destructive convivality seem to have been somewhat mingled. The piper, in the first verse, refers to the tragic fate of the instrument, and thereafter the different cats express their opinions. ORAN NAN CAT. Oidhche banais an fhidhleir 'S dheanainn caismeachd do cheudan: Seisd-Bheir mi o raill òho Agus o raill eile, Bheir mi o raill òho Agus o raill eile. Bheir mi o raill òho Agus o raill eile, Gnr e mis' tha gu tursach, 'S mo chruit-chiuil air mo threigsinn. Thuirt an cat a bha 'n Langais, Thuirt an cat a bha'n Cirean, "'S tim dhomh fein bhi dol dachaigh, Ma's a maith cath nan innean, Tha mi sgith dhe'r cuid sabaid." Thuirt cat mor Bun-na-dige, "Mo chluasan fein air an sracadh : Thuirt an Clot-cheannach duaichni "Eisd a shiongaire lachduinn 'De chuir thusa gu baile, Chur na h-athais sin ormsa? Ma chaill mise na cluasan, Cha b'ann mu'n truailleachd a dh'fhalbh' iad, Ach droch easlaint a bhuail mi 'S thug iad 'uam gus mo theanas iad.” Bheir mi, etc. Thuirt cat Dhomhnuill na Camairt- |