Thomas of the Thumb
From Catherine Macfarlane in 1809. John Dewar. THERE was one before now whose name was Tomas
na h òrdaig, and he was no bigger than the thumb of a stalwart man. Tomas went once to take a walk, and there came a coarse shower of hailstones, and Tomas went in under a dock leaf; and there came a great drove of cattle past, and there was a great brindled bull amongst them, and he was eating about the docken, and he ate Tomas of the Thumb. His mother and his father missed him, and they went to seek him. They were going past the brindled bull, and quoth Tomas na h ordaig,
“Ye are there a seeking me,
Through smooth places, and moss places;
And here am [ I a lonely one,
Within the brindled bull.”
Then they killed the brindled bull, and they sought Tomas nah érdaig amongst the paunches and entrails of the bull, but they threw away the great gut in which he was.
There came a carlin the way, and she took the great gut, and as she was going along she went over a bog.
Tomas said something to her, and the old wife threw away the great gut from her in a fright.
There came a fox the way, and he took with him the gut, and Tomas shouted
“Bies taileù! the fox. Bis taileù! the fox.” Then the dogs ran after the fox, and they caught him, and they ate him; and though they ate the gut they did not touch Tomas na h ordaig.
Témas went home, where his mother and _ his father were, and he it was indeed that had the queer story for them.
This varies from the book adventures of our old friend Tom Thumb, who is now supposed to have been the dwarf of King Arthur. The story comes from Glenfalloch, which is not far from Dumbarton, which was, according to family tradition, the birth-place of King Arthur’s son. It was told to Dewar by a girl who took charge of him when a child, and it is known to one other man whom I know. I used to hear the adventures of “Comhaoise Ordaig” (Thumb’s co-temporary), from my piper nurse myself, but I] was so young at the time that I have forgotten all but the name.
The cry of “bis taileu” may still be heard in the mouths of herd laddies addressing their collies, and it may be the same as “tally-ho!” for which a French derivation has been sought and found—“tallis hors.” I would rather imagine King Arthur, and his knights, and his dwarf, shouting an old Celtic hunting cry, and red-coated sportsmen keeping it up till now, than trace it to Norman-French; but in any case, here is something like tally-ho in the mouth of Tom Thumb, and in a glen where tally-ho has never been heard.
From a stone at Inverness.—Sculptured Stones of Scotland, Pl. xxxviii.
The following is a very good gloss upon the language of bulls, The imitation can be made very close by any one who will repeat the Gaelic conversation of the champions, with the intention of imitating the sound of their angry bellowings. These go by the name of “Boor-eech ” in Gaelic, and oo, ee, and r, express the prevailing sounds. I have tried to spell these sounds, but I have small hopes of conveying an idea of them by letters.
Whether this is a story founded on some old battle between tribes, which fought near the “Stone of the Bulls,” or if so, who these may have been, I will not attempt to guess.
There are bulls and bulls’ heads in the armorial bearings of several of the Highland clans; and the nickname of “John Bull” must have had some origin. There is a bull sculptured on an old stone near Inverness, which is figured in “The Sculptured Stones of Scotland,” from which work the drawing above is copied. The story is certainly the invention of some one familiar with bulls, whatever it means.
The Bulls
From John Dewar, November 17, 1860.
THERE came before now a red bull from Sasunn
(England), to put Albainn to shame. He stood on the shoulder of Bein Voorluig, and he bellowed,
“StrooAh n dooaich! StrooaAh n dooaich! The country is pitiable!”
There was a black Gaelic bull on the other side of Loch Loimein (Loch Lomond), opposite the top of Dun Polachrodh (Castlepool Castle), and he bellowed,
“KeeA as a ha oo? KeeA as a ha oo? Whence art thou?”
Quoth the red bull, “A tjeer do navaid. A tjeer do nAvaid. From thy foe’s land.”
Said the black bull, “Cud é héchd an tjeer? Cud é héchd an tjeer? What is thy land’s produce?”
“Kruinachd s Feen. Kruinachd s Feen. Wheat and wine,” said the red bull.
“Hoorin oo n coir do hooil. Hoorin oo n chir do hooil. I’d drive thee backwards,” said the black bull.
“Katche n do roogatoo? Katche n do roogatoo? Where wert thou born?” said the red bull.
“An craw an dooin. An craw an dooin. In the castle fold,” said the black bull.
“Cud boo veeA gooit on vA oo d laogh? Cud boo veeA gooit on vA oo d laogh? What was thy food since thou wert a calf!” said the red bull.
“BAine s bAr fraoich. BAine s bAr fraoich. Milk and heather tops,” said the black bull.
“An aorAchd chrom shaw am bêl do chlêv. An aorAchd chrom shaw am bêl do chlêv. This crooked horn in the front of thy chest,” said the red bull.
“Hoogad mee! han égal do. Hoogad mee! han égal do. Shun me! no fear of me,” said the black bull.
And the black bull went round about the upper end of Loch Lomond, and the two bulls met each other on the upper shoulder of beinn Voorluig, and they set heads to each other, and they struggled.
The black bull drove the red bull backwards as far as a great stone that was there, and they rolled the stone over, and the stone rolled down to a level place that is at the side of the road, about five miles on the upper side of the Lomond Tarbet, and three miles on the lower side of the upper end of the Loch of Lomond.
The black bull put his crooked horn into the front of the chest of the red bull, and he killed him; and “clach nan tarv,” the stone of the bulls, is the name that is on that stone till this day’s day, and that is the greatest stone that is in the three realms.
T. Dubh, ‘ Bainne’s barr fraoich, Bainne,” etc.
This is the original spelling.
The Hoodie Catechising the Young One
THE hoodie fell to at catechising the gorrachan, and
she said to him,—
If thou seest one coming, and a slender stick in his oxter, and a broad end to it, flee—that will be a gun; he will be going to kill thee. If thou seest one coming, and lifting a pebble, it is lifting it to kill thee that he will be—flee. If thou seest one coming fair straight forward, and without anything in his oxter, and without stooping, thou needst not stir, that one will not touch thee.”
“What,” said the croaker, “if the stone be in his pouch?”
“Oh!” said the Hoodie, “I need not be instructing thee any longer.”
The Hoodie and the Fox
THE hoodie and the fox were good at early rising, and
they laid a wager with each other, for which should soonest get up in the morning. The hoodie went into a tree top, and she slept; and the fox staid at the foot of the tree, looking aloft (to see) when the day would come. As soon as he perceived the day he cried, “Sê-n-lAbAn-ê.” It is bright day.
The hoodie had never stirred all the night, and then she awoke with the cry, and she answered, “Sad-o-bé-6, sAd-o-bé-é.” It’s long since it was. Then the fox lost the wager and the hoodie won. Harper.—From a stone at Monifeith.—Chalmers’ Sculptured Stones of Angus.