ories frequently relate to
the exploits of the Ossianic heroes, of whose existence they are as much
convinced as ordinary English folk are of the existence and deeds of the
British army in its most recent wars. During the tales "the emotions of
the reciters are occasionally very strongly excited, and so also are
those of the listeners, almost shedding tears at one time, and giving
way to loud laughter at another. A good many of them firmly believe in
all the extravagance of these stories." Another of his collectors, a
self-educated workman in the employ of the Duke of Argyll, writing more
than thirty years ago to him, speaks of what used to take place about
Loch Lomond upwards of fifty years before--that is to say, about the
beginning of the present century. The old people then would pass the
winter evenings telling each other traditional stories. These chiefly
concerned freebooters, and tribal raids and quarrels, and included
descriptions of the manners, dress and weapons of their ancestors and
the hardships they had to endure. The youngsters also would gather, and
amuse themselves with games or the telling of tales of a more romantic
cast. But the chief story-tellers appear to have been the tailors and
shoemakers, who were literally journeymen, going from house to house in
search of work. As they travelled about, they picked up great numbers of
tales, which they repeated; "and as the country people made the telling
of these tales, and listening to hear them, their winter night's
amusement, scarcely any part of them would be lost." In these tales
Gaelic words were often used which had dropped out of ordinary
parlance, giving proof of careful adherence to the ancient forms; and
the writer records that the previous year he had heard a story told
identical with one he had heard forty years before from a different man
thirty miles away; and this story contained old Gaelic words the meaning
of which the teller did not know. A gamekeeper from Ross-shire also
testified to similar customs at his native place: the assemblies of the
young to hear their elders repeat, on winter nights, the tales they had
learned from their fathers before them, and the renown of the travelling
tailor and shoemaker. When a stranger came to the village it was the
signal for a general gathering at the house where he stayed, to listen
to his tales. The goodman of the house usually began with some favourite
tale, and the stranger was expected to do the r