By "Nether-Lochaber."

Folk-Lore—a word of recent importation from the German—is a big word, and Highland Folk-Lore is a big subject, so big and comprehensive that not one Magazine article, but a many-chaptered series of Magazine articles would be necessary ere one could aver that he had done his "text" anything like justice. On the present occasion, therefore, we do not pretend to enter into the heart of a subject so extensive and many-sided: we shall content ourselves with a little scouting and skirmishing, so to speak, along the borders of a territory which it is possible we may ask the readers at some future time to explore along with us more at large. A few of the many proverbs, wisdom words, and moral and prudential sentences in daily use shall, in clerical phrase, meantime form "the subject-matter of our discourse." Nor must the reader think that the subject is in any wise infra dignitate, unworthy, that is, or undignified. Of the world-renowned Seven Wise Men of Greece, five at least attained to all their eminence and fame no otherwise than because they were the cunning framers of maxims and proverbs that rightly interpreted were calculated to advance and consolidate the moral and material welfare of the nation around them. Of the remaining two, it is true that one was an eminent politician and legislator, and the other a natural philosopher of the first order; but it is questionable if either of them would have been considered entitled to their prominent place in the Grecian Pleiades of Wise Men had they not been proverb-makers and utterers of brief but pregnant "wisdom-words" as well. Even Solomon, the wisest of men, was less celebrated as a botanist and naturalist, though he spake of trees, from the cedar that is in Lebanon, even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall; and of beasts, and of fowls, and of creeping things, and of fishes—less celebrated even as a lyrist, though his songs were a thousand and five, than for his proverbs and moral maxims of which the record takes care to tell us he spake no less than "three thousand." So much then for the dignity of our subject: what engaged the attention of Solomon and the Seven Sages of Greece cannot surely be unworthy some small share of our regard.

"Six and half-a-dozen" is an English phrase, implying either that two things are exactly the same, or so very much alike as to be practically the same. The old Gael was not much of an arithmetician, he rarely meddled with numbers, and therefore no precisely similar phrase is to be found in his language; but he could express the same idea in his own way, and so pithily and emphatically that his version of the proverbial axiom is, perhaps, as good as is to be found in any other language whatever. The Gael's equivalent for "six and half-a-dozen" is, "Bo mhaol odhar, agus bo odhar, mhaol"—(A cow that is doddled and dun, and a cow that is dun and doddled)—a phrase drawn, as are many of his most striking proverbs and prudential maxims, and very naturally too, from his pastoral surroundings. We recollect an admirable and very ludicrous application of this saying in a story once told us by the late Dr Norman Macleod of Glasgow, "old" Norman that is, not the Barony Doctor, but his father:—When a boy in Morven, of which parish his father was minister, there was a well-known character in that part of the country called "Eoghann Gorach Chraigan Uibhir," Daft Ewen of Craig-an-Ure in Mull, a born "natural," who, although a veritable "fool," had yet in him much of the quiet, keen-edged satire and roguery which is not unfrequently found in the better ranks of such "silly ones." Ewen regularly perambulated Mull and Morven, with an occasional raid into the neighbouring districts of Sunart and Ardnamurchan. He had sense enough to be able to carry the current news of the day from district to district, and on this account was always a welcome guest in every farm-house and hamlet on his beat; and as he sung a capital song, and was remarkable for much harmless drollery and "dafting," he was, it is needless to say, a great favourite everywhere. He took a great interest in ecclesiastical affairs, and always attended the church when the state of his wardrobe and other circumstances permitted. On one occasion Ewen was passing through Morven, and knowing that the annual communion time was approaching, he called upon the minister and begged to know who his assistants on that particular occasion were to be. He was going to pay a visit, he said, to all the glens and outlying hamlets in the parish, and as the people were sure to ask him the important question, he wished to have the proper answer direct from the minister himself. "Tha raghadh 'us taghadh nam ministeiran, Eoghainn; An Doiteir A. B. a Inneraora, agus an Doiteir C. D. a Muille." (The pick and choice of ministers Ewen said the minister, Doctor A. B. from Inverary, and Doctor C. D. from Mull). "Whe-e-we!" in a contemptuously prolonged low whistle replied Ewen. "An ann mar so a tha; Bo mhaol, odhar, agus bo odhar, mhaol!" (And is it even so; are these to be your assistants? A cow that is doddled and dun, and a cow that is dun and doddled!) Than which nothing could more emphatically convey Ewen's very small opinion of the "assistants" mentioned. They were much of a muchness; six and half-a-dozen; a cow doddled and dun, and a cow dun and doddled! The Gael was a keen observer of natural phenomena, and some of his best sayings were founded on the knowledge thus acquired. Meteorological "wisdom-words" for instance, are quite common. "Mar chloich a ruith le gleann, tha feasgar fann foghairidh" is an admirable example. (As is the headlong rush of a stone, atumbling down the glen, so hurried and of short duration is an autumnal afternoon.) The philosophy of the saying is that you are to begin your work betimes in the season of autumn; at early dawn if possible, and not to stop at all for dinner, seeing that once the day has passed its prime, the hour of sunset approaches with giant strides, and there is little or no twilight to help you if you have been foolish enough to dawdle your time in the hours of sunset proper. "'S fas a chÙil as nach goirear" is another pregnant adage. (Desert, indeed, is the corner whence no voice of bird is heard.) Some people are very quiet, almost dumb indeed, but on the occurrence of some event, or on the back of some remark of yours, they speak, and speak so clearly and well that you are surprised, and quote the saying that it is a solitary and silent glade indeed whence no voice is heard. "Am fear a bhios na thamh, saoilidh e gur i lamh fhein as fhearr air an stiÙir" is a common saying of much meaning and wide application. (He that is idle [a mere spectator] thinks that he could steer the boat better than the man actually in charge.) And we all know how apt we are to meddle, and generally unwisely, with the proper labours of others. Nothing, for instance, is more annoying and dangerous even than to put forth your hand by way of helping a driver in managing his horses, or to interfere with the tiller of a boat at which a perfectly competent man is already seated. We have known the saying just quoted scores of times suffice to stop the unwise and gratuitous intermeddling of such as were disposed to interfere with what did not properly belong to them. "Bidh fear an aon mhairt aig uairean gun bhainne" is a frequent saying, and implies more than is at first sight apparent. (The man with only one cow will be at times without milk.) The import of the saying is something more than a mere statement of fact. You have only one cow, and you are certain to be at times without milk. Get by your industry and perseverance two cows or three, and then you are pretty sure to have more or less milk all the year round.

We have thus briefly touched the hem, so to speak, of a very interesting subject—a subject that in the Highlands of Scotland, at least, has never yet received a tittle of the attention it deserves. And let no one be afraid to meddle with it to any extent he pleases, for we promise him that he will meet with nothing in any way to shock his delicacy or offend his taste, no matter how fine so ever of edge and exquisite; and in this respect, at all events, the good old Gael is superior to that of any other people of whom we have any knowledge. We may, perhaps, deal more at large with the subject in a future number. Meantime, we may state that we are of the same opinion as the Editor of the Inverness Courier; there is abundance of room for the Celtic Magazine if it continues to be well conducted, without, in the least degree, encroaching upon the territories of any other periodicals interested in Celtic affairs.

Nether-Lochaber, November 1875.