Fògradh, Fàisneachd, Filidheachd Read online

  Dh’fhàg mi an Abhainn Dubh air Diciadain agus shiubhail mi air an deigh mu chòig mile deug air an loch ris an abrar am Bras d’Or. Bha e reòta aig an àm so o cheann gu ceann agus bha e tuaiream trì fichead mìle air fad agus fichead mìle air leud. Ràinig mi Malagawatch an là sin agus air an là màireach shearmonaich mi anns an Eaglais. Ged a bha an latha goiniteil fuar, a’ ghaoth a’ sèideadh o ’n iar-thuath, dàrna leth nan uinneag briste, agus gun srad theine san tigh, gidheadh ghiùlain an sluagh am fuachd agus dh’ èisd iad le foighidinn gus a’ chrìoch. An dèidh sin chaidh mi nunn gu ruig àite ris an abrar na Caoil Bheaga agus shearmonaich mi ann an Eaglais Caolas Phàdruig air Dihaoine, agus air Disathairne chaidh mi air m’ adhart gu ruig Uaichocomah a chum gum bithinn an sin air Shàbaid.

  Air an 21mh là de’n Mhàrt shearmonaich mi ann an Eaglais an àite d’ an goirear Cùl nan Innseanach do dhòmhladas mòr sluaigh, a chruinnich às gach taobh mun cuairt. Dh’ èisd an sluagh ris an fhocal le geur aire, agus shuidh iad gu socrach gus an do chriochnaicheadh an t-adhradh. Bha tart orra air son èisdeachd an t-soisgeil aig an àm ud agus bha cumhachd na diadhachd ri fhaicinn ’nam measg. Faodar aithneachadh gun robh an soisgeul air a shearmonachadh an so anns na làithibh a chaidh seachad agus gun do mhothaich an sluagh a chumhachd beothachaidh ann an tomhas èiginn. Chaidh obair agus saothair ghràidh Mhr. Phàdruig MhicIlleathain a bheannachadh gu mòr do’n t-sluagh. Gus an latha ’n diugh chithear na comharran cuimhne gràis a chuir e suas anns gach oisinn de’n tìr. Agus faodar lorg chos an Teachdaire Nèamhaidh fhaicinn am measg nan coilltean agus nan creag, air feadh nan doireachan agus nan gleann ann an Uaichocomah. “Cia sgiamhach cosan na muinntir sin a ta searmonachadh soisgeil na sìthe.”

  Tha Uaichocomah gu fìrinneach na bhall bòidheach lurach mar innis (oasis) fhàsaich anns an dìthreabh. Tha aogas nàdarra an àite maiseach agus fiadhaidh; ach nì a ta mòran na’s feàrr bha Spiorad an Tighearna ag oibreachadh am measg an t-sluaigh agus thug e caochladh air tuar modhannail na tire o bhi na fàsaich tioram neo-thorrach gu bhi na machair thorraich tharbhaich. Aig an àm ud bha Uaichocomah agus na h-àitean mun cuairt da air an dìobradh mar chaoraich gun bhuachaille. ’Nuair a bha mise ’nam measg bha fiughair aig an t-sluagh ri Mr. Pàdruig MacIllEathain, nì a chuir mòr aoibhneas orrasan a chuala e roimhe a’ searmonachadh. Bha mi cianail a’ dealachadh ris an t-sluagh, is gann a dhùraiginn am fàgail, ’s ann air èiginn a spìon mi mi fèin air falbh uatha, oir bha mi sona fhad ’s a dh’fhuirich mi ’nam measg. Ach o’n a chuir mi romham dol do Chanada Uachdarach b’ èiginn domh falbh.

  Air Diluain, an 22mh là de’n mhìos, dh’fhàg mi Uaichocomah agus thàinig mi air m’ adhart gu ruig Abhainn Dennis far an do leig mi dà oidhche tharam maille ri Mr. Dòmhnall Camshron, fear de mhuinntir Lochabar de theaghlach nan Cluainean taobh Loch-lòchaidh. Nochd e fèin agus a theaghlach caoimhneas nach bu ghann domh a rèir gnàth fiùghantachd nan seann Ghàidheal. Air Diciadain ghabh mi mo thuras o thigh Dhòmhnaill Chamshroin agus chum mi romham gus an d’ràinig mi Caolas Chanso air feasgar Dihaoine. Thachair orm aig an àite so Mr. Alasdair Mac an t-Saoir, mo charaid fear-searmonachaidh an t-soisgeil, air a thuras gu Uaichocomah. Chaidh esan air adhart dìreach roimhe agus chaidh mise nunn air aiseag a’ chaolais air bàta agus phìll mi gu Pictou far an d’rinn mi ullachadh air son falbh do Chanada.

  (20 and 27 May 1893)

  Trip to Upper Canada, Now Called Ontario - 1847

  When summer began I got ready to leave Pictou, after living there for a year. On the 8th day of May I went aboard a ship that belonged to Carmichael of New Glasgow and was going up to Québec. When we left the port of Pictou we sailed northwest between Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia. We passed the west side of the island and came to open waters in the sea of St. Lawrence opposite Miramichi.

  We decided not to stop as we passed Gaspé until we reached close to the Big River on the 18th of May. On the evening of that day we brought aboard a French skipper to be our pilot to Québec. About ten o’clock in the evening we all went to sleep except the French pilot and the helmsman. Eventually the French pilot himself went to bed and left the helmsman and another man on deck. They allowed the ship to stray from its course and about midnight it went aground at Matane, two hundred miles northeast of Québec.

  All those who were asleep were suddenly wakened. They woke from their slumber with fear, and got up quickly and full of panic. I was roused from my sleep by the noise made when the ship hit the rock, my heart palpitated in my body, and I jumped immediately out of bed; I stood in a daze for a while and put on my clothes. The sailors went to the boats to lower them. I went out to the upper deck of the ship and jumped into the small boat, taking with me everything that I could carry in my hand. They lowered the boat, and when she was close to the water they cut the ropes that were holding her and we dropped on to the surface of the sea. There were three others with me in the little boat. The sailors and the captain went into the big lifeboat, taking with them everything they could carry from the ship.

  We left the ship and stayed all night on the surface of the deep waters, rowing out from the land until dawn broke and the morning light showed us where we could safely go ashore.

  On the morning of Wednesday the 19th we turned the boats toward the shore. When we were close to land we made a valiant effort to get out of the boat as fast as we could. The boisterous surging billows were rolling on top of each other and thrashing on the shoreline. The water could be seen rising in grey circles, as the sand swirled on the shore in the raging waves. The large, fierce, surging breakers were rising so high on the shore that it was too dangerous to go on land. One big wave came in over the stern of the boat, poured down over our heads like a cataract, half-filled the boat with water, and soaked me and my companions to the skin. When the keel of the boat hit solid ground one of the soldiers jumped quickly into the water and pulled her to shore with a strong rope. We all left the boat and stood on the sand on the shore.

  It was about three in the morning when we stood on dry land. The daylight was bright enough for us to notice a small hut above us and we went there to kindle a fire that would dry us. We found ourselves thrown ashore among the French of Lower Canada. The Frenchman who lived in the hut got up and let us in. He put some fuel on the fire so that we could warm ourselves, and he showed us great kindness. He directed us to the house of another Frenchman who spoke English well, since he himself had no English. When we reached that house they put on a big wood fire so that we could dry ourselves and the clothes that the big wave had soaked. In this way the people showed us great hospitality, as was shown to the Apostle Paul when he went ashore on the island of Melita. We all got ashore safely, and there was no loss except that of the ship, for the Lord was gracious to us and delivered us from the danger.

  When the sailors had dried themselves they went out to see the ship, which was lying almost dry on the shore after the tide had ebbed. They brought back all they could manage. Among other things they brought two chests of mine, containing my clothes, but they left on the ship three chests or boxes containing my books, and they refused to go back to fetch them. I was very indignant about that, since we were staying in this place for a couple of days. Then we boarded a damaged ship, full of wood, that was going to Québec to be repaired, but I left behind a young fellow called Alasdair Ross, of Sutherland extraction. He undertook to stay where the wrecked ship was, so that he could take my books when he got a chance to board another ship going to Québec.

  The ship that we were on was open at the keel, for the keel-board had been damaged when she went ashore in the storm, but she was full of wood and therefore floated like a raft. We reached Québec on the 28th day of May, after a journey lasting more than a week. I stayed in Québec until Monday the 31st and then boarded a steamship called “John Munn” that was going to Montréal.

  I reached that town on the morning of Tuesday the first day of June and I continued on my way, without stopping, in a steamboat going to Byto
wn, a town on the bank of the big Ottawa River, near the waterfall called the Great Chudiere. This town is now called Ottawa, the capital city of Canada, where the country’s Parliament meets and the Prime Minister stays. At that time it was only a small backwoods town with a population of about eight thousand. We reached the town on Wednesday morning, but I stayed there for a week until someone came to take me to Beckwith, my destination. After a week Alasdair MacEwen came with a carriage to fetch me and I carried on to Beckwith. On the 29th day of June the young fellow Alasdair Ross came with my books. He had stayed at Matane until he got a ship that took him up to Québec. I paid him eighteen dollars for his trouble and I was very grateful to him since he had saved my books, for one could not buy them for a hundred dollars.

  (20 agus 27 Cèitean 1893/)

  Turus do Chanada Uachdarach, Ris an Abrar a nis Ontario - 1847

  Nuair a thàinig toiseach an t-samhraidh rinn mi deas airson Pictou fhàgail, an dèidh dhomh fuireach ann fad bliadhna. Air an 8mh là de Mhàigh chaidh mi air bòrd luinge le Mac-Gille-Mhicheil ann an Glascho Nomha, a bha dol an àird gu Quebec. Nuair a dh’fhàg sinn port Phictou sheòl sinn ris an iar-thuath eadar Eilean Prionnsa Eideard agus Albainn Nodha. Chaidh sinn seachad air ceann siar an eilein agus thàinig sinn a dh’ionnsaidh farsainneachd fairge ann am Muir Labhrainn mu choinneamh Miramichi.

  Chuir sinn romhainn gun stad a’ dol seachad air Gaspé gus an d’ràinig sinn faisg air beul na h-Aibhne Mòire air an 18mh de Mhàigh. Air feasgar an là sin thug sinn air bòrd sgiobair Frangach a chum an t-iùl a dhèanamh dhuinn gu Quebec. Mu dheich uairean feasgar chaidh sinn uile chadal ach an sgiobair Frangach agus an stiùradair. Mu dheireadh thall chaidh an sgiobair Frangach fhèin a chadal agus dh’fhàg e an stiùradair agus fear eile air an cois. Leig iadsan an long bharr a cùrsa, agus mu mheadhan-oidhche bhuail i air grunnd a’ chladaich aig Matane, dà chiad mile an ear-thuath air Quebec.

  Dhùisgeadh gu h-obann gach duine a bha ’na chadal. Mhosgail iad às an suain le eagal, agus dh’èirich iad ann an cabhaig làn uamhainn. Dhùisg mise às mo chadal leis an sgailc a thug an long air a’ chreig, chlisg mo chridhe ann am chom, agus leum mi gu grad às an leabaidh; sheas mi ann am boile rè seal, agus chuir mi umam m’ aodach. Thug na seòladairean làmh air na bàtaichean a chum an leigeil sìos, chaidh mi mach air clàr-uachdar na luinge agus leum mi a stigh anns a’ bhàta bheag, a’ toirt leam na b’urrainn mi ghiùlan ann am làimh. Leig iad sìos am bàta, agus nuair a bha i am fagus do’n uisge gheàrr iad na cùird ris an robh i an crochadh, agus thuit sinn air uachdar na fairge. Bha triùir eile anns a’ bhàta bheag maille rium. Chaidh na seòladairean agus an caiptean anns a’ bhàta mhòr, a’ toirt leotha a h-uile nì a b’urrainn dhaibh às an luing.

  Dh’fhàg sinn an long agus dh’fhuirich sinn fad na h-oidhche air uachdar nan uisgeachan domhainn, ag iomradh a mach bho’n chladach gus an d’thàinig briseadh na fàire, agus an d’fhoillsich solas na maidne dhuinn far an cuireamaid gu tìr ann an tèarainteachd.

  Air madainn Diciadain an 19mh thionndaidh sinn na bàtaichean ris a’ chladach. Nuair a bha sinn fagus do thìr thug sinn oidhirp thapaidh air faotainn a mach cho luath ’s a b’urrainn duinn. Bha na sumainean gailbheach, atmhor, a’ roladh air a chèile muin air mhuin, agus a’ slachdainn na tràgha. Chìteadh an t-uisge ag èirigh suas ’na chuibhleachan glasa, agus a’ ghainneamh a’ ruidhleadh air a’ chladach le onfhadh nan tonn. Bha na bòchd-thonnan mòra, garbh, ag èiridh cho àrd ris a’ chladach as gun robh e ro chunnartach a dhol gu tìr. Agus thàinig aon tonn mòr a staigh air deireadh a’ bhàta, thaom e thar mullach ar cinn mar steall aonaich, lion e am bàta gus a leth le uisge, agus fhliuch e mise agus na bha maille rium gu ruig an craiceann. Nuair a bhuail druim a’ bhàta air a’ ghrunnd leum fear de na seòladairibh a mach gu h-ealamh anns an uisge, agus tharrainn e i gu tìr le còrd làidir. Chaidh sinn uile mach às a’ bhàta agus sheas sinn air a’ ghainmhich air tràigh na fairge.

  Bha e mu thrì uairean ’s a’ mhadainn nuair a sheas sinn air an tràigh, agus bha an latha air fàs soilleir gu leòr ionnas gun d’thug sinn an aire do bhothan beag os ar cionn a chum an deachaidh sinn gu teine fhadadh los ar tiormachadh. Fhuair sinn sinn-fèin air ar tilgeil air tìr am measg nam Frangach ann an Canada Iochdarach. Dh’èirich am Frangach a bha còmhnaidh ’s a’ bhothan agus leig e a stigh sinn; chuir e beagan connaidh air an teine chum gun garamaid sinn fèin, agus nochd e caoimhneas nach bu bheag dhuinn. Sheòl e sinn a dh’ionnsaidh taigh Frangaich eile a labhradh Beurla gu math oir cha robh Beurla aige fhèin, agus nuair a ràinig sinn an taigh sin chuir iad air teine mòr fiodha a chum gun tiormaicheamaid sinn fèin agus ar n-aodach a fhliuch an tonn mòr. Mar so nochd an sluagh caoimhneas duinn, mar a nochd iad do’n Abstol Pòl nuair a chaidh e air tìr air Eilean Mhelita. Fhuair sinn uile tèarainte gu tìr, agus cha robh call sam bith ann ach a mhàin call na luinge, oir bha an Tighearna gràsmhor dhuinn, agus shaor e sinn às a’ chunnart.

  Nuair a thiormaich na seòladairean iad fèin, chaidh iad a mach a dh’fhaicinn na luinge, a bha ’na laighe air a’ chladach, ach beag tioram, nuair a thràigh a’ mhuir, agus thug iad gu tìr gach nì a b’urrainn daibh; am measg nithean eile thug iad gu tìr dà chiste leam-sa, anns an robh mo chuid aodaich, ach dh’fhàg iad air bòrd na luinge trì bocsaichan, no trì cisteachan anns an robh mo leabhraichean, agus dhiùlt iad dol air an ais gus an toirt air tìr. Bha mi ro dhiombach air son sin, ged a bha sinn là no dhà a’ feitheamh aig an àite. Chaidh sinn an sin air bòrd luinge briste, làn fiodha, a bha dol an àird gu Quebec gu bhi air a càradh, ach dh’ fhàg mise gille òg d’am b’ainm Alasdair Ros de mhuinntir Chataibh, a ghabh os làimh fuireach aig an luing, a chum gun tugadh e leis mo leabhraichean nuair a gheibheadh e cothrom air long sam bith eile a’ dol gu Quebec.

  Bha an long air an robh sinn a’ dol an àird fosgailte air a druim, oir bhriseadh an t-slat droma no an t-sail-dhroma dhith nuair a chaidh i air a’ chladach leis an stoirm ach bha i làn fiodha agus mar sin shnàmhadh i mar gum bu ràth a bhiodh ann. Ràinig sinn Quebec air an 28mh là de Mhàigh oir bha sinn còrr agus seachdain air ar turas. Dh’fhuirich mise ann an Quebec gu Diluain an 31mh là; agus an sin chaidh mi air bòrd bàta-toite, no smùid-long d’am b’ainm “Iain Munna” (John Munn), a bha dol gu Montreal.

  Ràinig mi am baile sin air madainn Dimàirt a’ cheud là de Iune, agus ghabh mi dìreach air m’ aghaidh gun stad le bàta smùid a bha dol gu By-town, baile a bha air bruaich na h-Aibhne Mòire, Ottawa, làimh ris an Eas, d’am b’ainm an Coire Mòr (Great Chudiere). Theirear Ottawa ris a’ bhaile so a nise, ceann-bhaile Ard-thighearnais Chanada, far am bheil an Ard Phàrlamaid a’ coinneachadh agus an t-Ard Riaghladair a’ fuireach. Cha robh ann ach baile beag cùil aig an àm ud, anns an robh mu ochd mìle sluaigh a’ gabhail còmhnaidh. Ràinig sinn am baile air madainn Diciadain, ach dh’fhan mise seachdain anns a’ bhaile a’ feitheamh gus an tigeadh cuideigin gu m’iarraidh à Beckwith an t-àite gus an robh mi a’ dol. An ceann seachdain thàinig Alastair MacEoghain le inneal giùlain gus mo thoirt leis, agus mar sin chaidh mi air m’adhart gu Beckwith. Air an 29mh là de mhios Iune, thàinig an gille òg, Alasdair Ros, leis na leabhraichean agam; dh’fhuirich e aig Matane gus an d’fhuair e long a thug an àird e gu Quebec. Phàigh mi dha ochd dolair dhiag air son a dhragh agus air chùl sin bha mi ro thaingeil da a chionn gun do shàbhail e mo leabhraichean, oir cha cheannaicheadh ciad dolair na bha ann diubh.

  (3 September 1892)

  The Potato Bugs, or the Striped Beetle

  These horrible little insects have become abundant in the country and they are destroying the potatoes, doing great damage to the fields where they are planted. It is said that they originated in that district called Colorado and that they have been moving eastward from there at a distance of eighty miles per year; and it would indeed be a cause for joy if they kept going further east until they go out into the big Atlantic Ocean where they would all be drowned. Nobody would miss them or be sad that they are gone. All the farmers would rejoice if they he
ard that they had sunk in the sea.

  Because of their source of origin they are known as the red Colorado Beetles, and the name is appropriate because when they are larvae they are brown in colour, very like the lice on sheep and lambs. It is when they are at this stage that they damage the potatoes by eating the green leaves. After a certain time they get scaly and streaky wings with yellow and dark grey alternating stripes. They then produce thousands of eggs which come alive in the heat of the sun and grow to become the red larvae which eat the potato leaves. In addition to the scaly wings the red beetles have smooth wings that are as thin and soft as silk, and since each beetle has two pairs of wings like this they fly from place to place. But it would be preferable if a destructive device could be found to eliminate them.

  (3 September 1892)

  Uamhagan a’ Bhuntàta, no na Daolagan Striamach

  Tha na meanbh-bhiastagan gràineil so air fàs lìonmhor anns an dùthaich agus tha iad a’ milleadh a’ bhuntàta, a’ dèanamh mòr chall air na raointibh anns am bheil iad air an cur. Tha e air a ràdh gun do thàrmaich iad so an toiseach anns an tìr sin ris an abrar “Ciul-Ruada” (Colorado), agus bho’n àite sin gum bheil iad air bhi triall an ear aig ruith ceithir fichead mile sa bhliadhna, agus gu dearbh bu taitneach an nì e nan gabhadh iad air an aghaidh rompa a’ sìor dhol an ear gus an rachadh iad a mach air a’ chuan mhòr Atlasach, far am biodh iad uile air am bàthadh. Cha bhiodh duine sam bith ’gan ionndrainn no brònach às an dèidh. Ach is ann a dhèanadh na tuathanaich uile gàirdeachas nan cluinneadh iad gun deachaidh iad fodha sa mhuir.