cha ’n ’eil cothrom air sin a dheanamh aig an àm. Theagamh gu foghainn na thubhairt mi a chum na slighe chomharr-achadh a mach air am bheil seadh nan sgeulachdan so r’ a fhaotainn; ’s e sin ri ràdh, gur e gluasad chuspairean nàduir a tha air a riochdachadh annta, ’s nach e deanadas duine no beathaich. Mar sin tuigidh sinn ciod is ciall do na h-euchdan do-chreidsinn a tha gaisgich an sgeòil a’ cur an gniomh. Tuigidh sinn gur e ’n reothadh am Famhair mor a chuireas drochaid thar na h-aibhne ann an aon oidhche; gur i ghaoth-tuath an Curaidh feargach a spion a’ chraobh ghiubhais á bun, ’s a thilg i bhàrr bearradh na creige; ’s gur i ghrian a’ Chlach-mhuilinn a tha Sisyphus, gach aon là a’ rolladh o bhonn gu mullach na beinne, ’s nach luaithe ruigeadh i am mullach na tha i rolladh le leathad air an taobh eile; agus mar sin ’s an sgeul a tha f’ar comhair, gur e Cùrsa na gréine agus Deanadas na h-aimsire ré ràidhean a’ Gheamhraidh agus an Earraich a tha air an riochdachadh le Treun-laoich an sgeòil.
SOME STORIES OF HEISKEIR
To the south-west of the island of North Uist lies a small island called Heiskeir, or Monach Isle, i.e. the Isle of the Monks, by which name it is known in the Admiralty Chart to distinguish it from a group of rocks in the neighbourhood called Hashkeir. Heiskeir is low-lying, and is composed principally of sand exposed to the turbulency of the wild Atlantic, and little to be coveted for a habitation except by seals, sea-birds, or any such monsters as the one about to be described. Inhabited, however, it is. It has so been from time immemorial. Five or six families of small tenants have always lived there (and formerly double or treble that number) in the enjoyment of plenty, comfort, and ease, who would be very sorry to exchange their ‘ocean home’ for any other place. Solitary they never find it, even in winter when they are shut out almost exclusively from the world.
