A strong man named Dugald Campbell was one night, about the end of last century, watching the cattle on the farm of Baile-phuill, in the west of Tiree. A little red cow came among the herd and was attacked by the other cows. It fled and they followed. Dugald also set off in pursuit. Sometimes the little red cow seemed near, sometimes far away. At last it entered the face of a rock, and one of the other cows followed and was never again seen. The whole herd would have followed had not Dugald intercepted them. A poor person’s cow, in Skye, was by some act of oppression taken from him. That night the Fairies brought him another cow, remarkable only in having green water weeds upon it. This cow throve. Some four generations ago cows came ashore on Nisibost beach, on the farm of Loscantire (_Losg-an-tìr_), in Harris. The people got between them and the shore, with such weapons as they could get, and kept them from returning to the sea again. Even handfuls of sand thrown between the cows and the shore kept them back. These sea-cows were in all respects like ordinary highland cattle but were supposed to live under the sea on the sea-weed called _meillich_. They were called Fairy cows (_Cro sìth_), and the superiority of the Loscantire cattle was said to have originated from them. It is more probable the superiority of the stock was the origin of the Fairy cattle. Cows of the same kind were also said to have come ashore in Bernera, in Uist, and at MacNicol’s Big Rock (_Creag mhòr mhic Neacail_), on the farm of Scorrybreck, in Skye. In the latter place they were kept from returning by tossing earth between them and the sea. Earth from a burying-ground was thought to be the most effective in such cases. On the evening of the day on which the cows came ashore a voice was heard from the sea calling them by name. From the rhyme in which this was done we learn the cows were of different colours, one black, another brown, brindled, red, white-faced, etc.: Sisgein, Brisgein, Meangan, Meodhran, Bo dhu, bo dhonn Bo chrom riabhach Sliochd na h-aona bhà maoile ruaidhe, Nach d’ fhàg buaile riasnh na h-aonar; Bo chionnan Thonn, È bhlàrag. THE THIRSTY PLOUGHMAN. A ploughman while engaged at his work heard, or fancied he heard, a sound of churning, and said he wished his thirst “was on the dairymaid.” In a short time after a woman appeared and offered him a drink of buttermilk. Her green dress and sudden appearance made him refuse the offer, and she said that next year he would not need the drink. When the twelve months were nearly out the man died.[46] THE FAIRY CHURNING.