egg-shells are, or perhaps we should say were, frequently treated after the fashion stated, and for the reason assigned. Some of our readers in the north-west Highlands and Hebrides may perhaps know something more about a very odd and curious superstition to be met with in the latter half of the nineteenth century. For obvious reasons, it is a superstition more likely to be prevalent among islanders and dwellers by the sea-shore than in the more inland parts of the country. The following fragment of a curious old poem we picked up about ten days ago from the recitation of Alexander Maclachlan, shepherd, Dalness. It is unfortunately but a fragment, as we have said, but we give it here in the hope that some of our friends of the Gaelic Society, or of our many readers throughout the Hebrides, may be able to supply more or less of the remainder. Maclachlan heard the entire poem from a Glenetive forester, a very old man, some years ago, but this man is now unfortunately dead, and the reciter could not direct us to any one likely to be able to repeat the poem at length. Perhaps our friend Mr. J. F. Campbell of Islay, so indefatigable and marvellously successful in his search after Celtic song and story, "all of the olden time," may have met with it in a more or less complete form; if so, he would very much oblige us all in the north by giving us a version of it and its history, as far as he knows it. We may state that it does not appear in Leabhar-na-Feinne, which we have searched for it, though unquestionably a production of considerable antiquity. Maclachlan told us that the old forester, in reciting it, called it Conaltradh nan Ian, or The Parliament of Birds. The following were evidently the opening lines of the poem, and likeliest to be remembered by one who only heard it repeated once or twice:-- Conaltradh nan Ian--(Fragment). "Nuair 'bha Gaelig aig na h'eoin, 'Sa 'thuigeadh iad glòir nan dàn, Bu tric an comhradh anns a choill Air iomad pong, ma's fhior na Bàird. Thainig piàid luath na gleadhraich, 'S shuidh i air grod mheur còsach fearna, Ma choinneamh cò'chaig a ghuib chruinn, 'Sa caog-shuil dhonn na ceann mar àirnaig. 'N so dh'èirich a phiaid gu grad, 'S thubhairt i 's i 's tailceadh a bonn, 'An tusa sin a'd mheall air stop Nuair a bhi's do cheod-cheann trom? Am bi do theanga 'ghnath fo ghlais 'S tu gun luaidh air reach na ùi, 'S tu cho duinte ri cloich bhric 'Bhi's air meall a chnaip gun bhri." "Bu treis dhaibh mar so a còmhstri, Gearradh, 'bearradh glòir a cheile, Ach gus an d'leum a nois an glas-eun; 'S rinn esan gach cùis a rèiteach, 'S crog a phiaid air a ceann 'S dh-fhag e i gu fuar, fann, 'N sin bh'èirich firèun nan gléus A shinbhlas an spèur ga luath." [Cætera desunt.]