Blair Collection > Celtic magazine > Volume 5

THE CELTIC SIDE OF BUENS. 347
and bidding fareweU to the hospitalities of the north during one of his
tours through the Highlands — of which more anon : —
When death's dark stream I ferry o'er,
A time that surely shall come ;
In Heaven itself I'll ask no more
Than just a Highland welcome.
And we may add the following morceau found in a memorandum book
belonging to Burns, and called the Highlander's Prayer at Sheriffmuir : —
*' Lord, be thou with us ; but if thou be not with us, be not against us ;
tut leave it heticeen the red coats and us." J. C.
DOI^ALD THE FIDDLE E.
Centuries ago, when the good old town of Inverness was yet in its
infancy, there lived in one of its meanest streets a well-known character
called Donald the Fiddler. He was a tanner by trade, and might have
earned good wages, for at that time tanning was one of the principal in-
dustries of the town ; but Donald was a lazy fellow who much preferred
to roam about playing his fiddle than working at his useful though not
odorous calling. He was a married man, and stood not a little in awe
of the sharp tongue of bis bustling, shrewish wife.
It happened one morning that when Donald woke from his heavy
sleep, induced by the strong potations of the previous evening, he found
his wife abeady up and out, not, if the truth be told, an altogether un-
precedented occurrence.
Not feeling very much inclined for work, and his wife not being pre-
sent to drive him to it, Donald determined to take his fiddle and enjoy a
ramble into the country. He remembered hearing that there was to be
a marriage at Petty, where he and his fiddle would be sure of a welcome.
He had managed with many a yawn and stretch to get into his clothes^
and was just slinking out of the door when, as ill-luck would have it, he
met his wife full face. One glance at Donald and his fiddle was enough for
her. Putting down the basket of clothes she had been washing in the
river, she approached her good-for-nothing spouse with arms a-kimbo and
treated him to a " bit of her mind."
At a few yards distance from their house was the fosse or ditch which
ran round the burgh, and which was the receptacle of so much refuse
from the numerous tanpits and malt-kilns that it was commonly called
the " fou," or foul pool. It was protected by a paling, but through the
negligence of the proper authorities, this defence was often broken and
dilapidated. Thus it happened, that as Donald slowly retreated before
the menaces of his enraged wife, he reached an unprotected part of the
fosse, and just at this moment the virago having worked herself up to a
pitch, raised her by no means slender arm and aimed a blow at her hus-
band, to avoid which Donald made a quick backward step, lost his
balance, and before he knew where he was had lUUeu head over heels into