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Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends

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Donna:
Hey Stu,
This is great stuff! I appreciate all the time you devote to the Legends, stories, and poems... not to mention the jokes!

Thanks!

Donna

Stirling Thompson:


The Magic Herring

There is an interesting legend told of the device by
which shoals of herring were first induced to come into
Loch Broom. It seems that long ago the lochs round the island of Lewis were invariably, at the herring season, visited by magnificent shoals of fish, while not a tail was ever seen to twinkle in the spacious waters of Loch Broom. Abundance on one side of the Minch, destitution (for no earthly or apparent reason) on the other! After mature consideration, the dwellers by Loch Broom came to the conclusion that the anomaly could only be explained by the malignant operation of the Lews witches.

Query : How best neutralise the spells of these witches? A remedy, both unique and effective, was at length devised. A silver herring was made and given into the hands of a sturdy crew, who set sail with it over the water to Lewis. On arriving there, the men partook of an adequate amount of refreshment, let down the silver fish (attached to a cord) among the jostling shoals in one of the lochs, and then, with the metallic animal trailing in the sea behind them, they turned the prow of the boat in the direction of home.

The ruse was successful beyond all belief: glimmering clouds of phosphorence followed through the seas below in the wake of the boat and its silver lure. Under the stars of night, in all the rapture of excitement and success, the Loch Broom fishers led the droves of herring right up to the farthest reach of their loch. The metallic herring was then allowed to sink to the bottom : there it remains, and so long as it is there, an abundant harvest of the deep will be the portion of the resourceful toilers of these shores. Perhaps I ought to mention that the famous boat which did the feat was painted black on one side and red on the other.

The prosperity of Ullapool is not as high as it was. Can it be that the Lews witches are at their old tricks again? Or has the silver herring been borne, by the wash of retreating surges, out into the Hebridean deep?

Barbara:
Thank you Stu for the jokes, poems, myths and legends.  I do enjoy them.

Barbara

Stirling Thompson:
I had always thought of the Banshee as being Irish but apparently they also inhabited the Highlands...

The Banshee
from "Faerie tales and Folklore of the Scottish Highlands" by Muireall Donald


Perhaps the best known Highland fairy is the banshee. This word is a Gaelic one which means ‘fairy woman’. She is usually seen beside a burn or river washing the bloodstained clothes of those about to die. She is an omen of evil but if anyone who sees her before she sees him gets between her and the water, she may grant him three wishes. She will answer three questions but she asks three questions that must be answered truly. It is said that the Banshee are the ghosts of women who have died in childbirth and must perform their washing task until the natural destined time of their death comes. But the banshees are known for other things besides washing death shrouds.

In a fairy tale called The Banshee and the Kettle, the wraith came every night to the house of a Highland woman who respected the fairies. Each night, the banshee would take away the kettle with its remnant of soup, which hung over the hearth. The good wife did not begrudge the food to the fairies, however she always repeated a charm over the kettle when her family was through eating. The next morning, the kettle would be hanging in its customary place, full of magical meat scraps for the next meal. The farmer husband of the good wife enjoyed this bounty, for it meant his own cattle could grow fat for market day. One day the good wife had to journey to the town. She left instructions for her husband to stir the pot, recite the charm, and to respectfully allow the banshee entrance to the house.

Unlike my husband, this man was not much interested in kitchen affairs. When the banshee came screeching at the door, the farmer ran screaming out the window, forgetting rhyme and reason in his haste to get away from the death head. Offended at his lack of respect, the banshee took the kettle anyway, muttering under her breath at the ill reception he had given her. When his wife returned home, she found her hearth bare and her soup spilled over the stones. She went straightaway to the fairy brogh (hill) nearby and bending over to peer inside the entrance, she found her kettle. She picked it up and started home. But two large black dogs followed her, snapping and growling at her heels. One by one, the good wife took the meat scraps from out the kettle and threw them to the fairy dogs. By the time she returned home, the kettle was empty. Never again did the banshee return and from that day on, the inhospitable farmer was forced to slaughter his own cattle to make soup meat.

 

Donna:
Hey Stu,
I love reading the stories you post!

Donna

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