{bhon an leabhar Folk Tales and Fairy Lore in Gaelic and English, cruinnichte bhon beul-aithris le Urra. James MacDougall (1910)}TÀCHARAN CEANN an t-SÀILEIN
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There was living in Kintalen a woman who had a male-child with neither the growth nor the bloom of other children his age. From morning to evening he would not cease one minute from crying, and he would eat far more food than was natural for the like of him.
It was harvest, and there was not a person on the farm who could draw a sickle but was out on the reaping field, except the mother of the child. She, too would have been out were it not for fear that the nasty screaming thing would break his heart crying, if she should leave him in charge of any other person.
It happened that there was at the time a tailor in the house, making clothes. The tailor was a shrewd, observant man, and he was but a short time within until he became suspicious of the lad in the cradle.
"You," he said to the woman, "may go to the reaping, and I will take care of the child."
The woman went away. But she had barely taken her feet over the threshold when the withered object she had left behind began shrieking and crying loudly and sorely. The tailor listened to him a good while, keeping his eye on him, till he was sure that he was nothing but a changeling. He now lost patience with him, and cried in a sharp, angry voice : "Stop that music, lad, or I'll put thee on the fire."
The crying ceased for a while, but afterwards it began a second time. "Art thou at it again, piper of the one tune?" said the tailor. "Let me hear that music any more from thee, and I will kill thee with the dirk."
When the fairy beheld the frown on the tailor's countenance and the dirk in his hand, he took such a fright that he kept quiet a good while. The tailor was a cheerful man, and to keep from wearying he began to hum a tun. In the middle of the music the ugly elf raised a loud howl. But, if he did, he was not allowed to go on with his warble but a very short time. The tailor leaped off his work-table, went, dirk in hand, over to the cradle, and said to the fairy : "We have enough of that music, take the right great bagpipes and give us one good tune on them, or else I'll put the dirk in thee."
The fairy sat up in the cradle, took the pipes which he had somewhere about him, and struck up the sweetest music the tailor had ever heard. The reapers heard it on the field, and instantly dropped their sickles and stood listening to the fairy music. At length they left the field, and ran in the direction whence the music came. But before they reached the house the tune had ceased; and they knew not who played it or whence it came.
When the reapers returned home in the evening, and the tailor got the mistress of the house alone, he told her everything that happened while she was at the reaping, and that her child was nothing but a changeling. He then told her to go with him to the Ardsheal side of the bay, and to throw him out in the Loch. She did as was told her, and as soon as the nasty little elf touched the water he became a big grey-haired old man, and swam to the other side of the bay. When he got his foot on dry land, he cried to her that if he had known beforehand what she was going to do he would never think of doing such a thing again.
She returned home and found her own child at the door before her, hale and sound.
There was living in Kintalen a woman who had a male-child with neither the growth nor the bloom of other children his age. From morning to evening he would not cease one minute from crying, and he would eat far more food than was natural for the like of him.
It was harvest, and there was not a person on the farm who could draw a sickle but was out on the reaping field, except the mother of the child. She, too would have been out were it not for fear that the nasty screaming thing would break his heart crying, if she should leave him in charge of any other person.
It happened that there was at the time a tailor in the house, making clothes. The tailor was a shrewd, observant man, and he was but a short time within until he became suspicious of the lad in the cradle.
"You," he said to the woman, "may go to the reaping, and I will take care of the child."
The woman went away. But she had barely taken her feet over the threshold when the withered object she had left behind began shrieking and crying loudly and sorely. The tailor listened to him a good while, keeping his eye on him, till he was sure that he was nothing but a changeling. He now lost patience with him, and cried in a sharp, angry voice : "Stop that music, lad, or I'll put thee on the fire."
The crying ceased for a while, but afterwards it began a second time. "Art thou at it again, piper of the one tune?" said the tailor. "Let me hear that music any more from thee, and I will kill thee with the dirk."
When the fairy beheld the frown on the tailor's countenance and the dirk in his hand, he took such a fright that he kept quiet a good while. The tailor was a cheerful man, and to keep from wearying he began to hum a tun. In the middle of the music the ugly elf raised a loud howl. But, if he did, he was not allowed to go on with his warble but a very short time. The tailor leaped off his work-table, went, dirk in hand, over to the cradle, and said to the fairy : "We have enough of that music, take the right great bagpipes and give us one good tune on them, or else I'll put the dirk in thee."
The fairy sat up in the cradle, took the pipes which he had somewhere about him, and struck up the sweetest music the tailor had ever heard. The reapers heard it on the field, and instantly dropped their sickles and stood listening to the fairy music. At length they left the field, and ran in the direction whence the music came. But before they reached the house the tune had ceased; and they knew not who played it or whence it came.
When the reapers returned home in the evening, and the tailor got the mistress of the house alone, he told her everything that happened while she was at the reaping, and that her child was nothing but a changeling. He then told her to go with him to the Ardsheal side of the bay, and to throw him out in the Loch. She did as was told her, and as soon as the nasty little elf touched the water he became a big grey-haired old man, and swam to the other side of the bay. When he got his foot on dry land, he cried to her that if he had known beforehand what she was going to do he would never think of doing such a thing again.
She returned home and found her own child at the door before her, hale and sound.
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