occasions, the other a
gentleman who had, some time previously, arrived and taken up his
quarters in the district. No one knew who he was, where he came from, or
what his name was. There were all sorts of rumours floating amongst the
inhabitants regarding him; that he had committed some crime, and escaped
from justice; that he was a gentleman of high estate, who had fallen in
love with a lowly maiden and run away to spite his family for objecting
to the alliance; and various other surmises. He was discovered to be a
gentleman and a scholar, and particularly frank and free in his
conversation with the people about everything except his own history and
antecedents, and was a walking encyclopaedia of all kinds of legendary
lore connected with the southern parts of the country. His appearance
caused quite a flutter among the assembled rustics. He was, however,
heartily welcomed by the old bard and members of the circle, and was
offered a seat a little to the left of the oak arm chair. It was soon
found that he was a perfect master of Gaelic as well as English. It was
also found on further acquaintance, during many subsequent visits, that
he never told a story or legend without a preliminary introduction of
his own, told in such a manner as to add immensely to the interest of
the tale.

"_Coinnichidh na daoine ri cheile ach cha choinnich na cnuic_"--(Men
will meet each other, but hills will never meet), said _Ruairidh Mor a
Chnuic_, who, on this occasion, found himself in the Oak Chair. "Very
true," said the next man to the left. "_Cuiridh an teanga snaim nach
t-fhuasgail an fhiacaill_"--(The tongue will tie a knot which the tooth
cannot loosen). "Let some one give us a story." "_Cha robh sgialach nach
robh briagach_"--(He who is a good story-teller is also a good retailer
of lies), says Callum a Ghlinne, or Malcolm of the Glen, an excellent
story-teller when he liked. "I'll give you a riddle though, and perhaps
we may get a _sgeulachd_ from the stranger, the gentleman, on my left,"
"_An rud nach eil 's nach robh, 's nach bi' sin do laimh 'us chi thu
e_"--(What is not, never was, and never will be, stretch forth your hand
and you'll see it). This was soon answered by the younger members--"_Bar
na meur uileadh an aon fhad_"--(The points of the fingers the same
length). It now comes the turn of the romantic stranger, who shall in
these pages be known as "Norman of the Yacht." He was in no way put out,
consented; and immediate