“You stole my smooth golden comb and my rough silver comb.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You killed my bald, rough-skinned lad.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You stole my sword of light.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You killed my mother.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You stole my buck.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “When will you come again?” “When my business brings me.” “If you were over here and I over there, what would you do to follow me?” “I would stop myself up, and I would drink until I dried the river.” The giant stopped himself up, and drunk until he burst. Maol a chliobain married the young son of the farmer. The above is a fair specimen of these tales with which the story-tellers of the Highlands were wont to entertain their listeners, and pass agreeably a long winter evening. The versions of such tales are various, but the general line of the narrative is always the same. Scores of these tales may still be picked up in the West Highlands, although Mr Campbell has sifted them most carefully and skilfully, and given to the public those which are undoubtedly best. The following is a specimen referring to the famous Tom na h-iùbhraich, in the neighbourhood of Inverness. It was taken down by the writer from the recital of an Ardnamurchan man in Edinburgh, and has never been printed before. The resemblance of a portion of it to what is told of Thomas the Rhymer and the Eildon Hills, is too close to escape observation. These tales are valuable as preserving admirable specimens of the idioms of the Gaelic language. NA FIANTAICHEAN. FEAR A’ GHEADAIN CLÒIMHE.