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366 Gaelic Society of Inverness.
fact that the old economy, and by consequence the old language
which it cherished, are, for good or for evil, passing away. Probably
for good and evil ; but let us hope that here also the evil
will be overcome by the good. It would be interesting to trace
the effect of the Reformation upon our Gaelic diction. The Catholics
have preserved, among other words, aifrionn, a loan from the
Latin, to designate the mass. I played my first games at shinty
in Glak-nan-aifriomt^ in a purely Gaelic speaking parish where
probably not a single individual knows the meaning of the woi'd.
Cain in early times meant law. The old Irish laws were called
Chin Pcitmic, and we have still the saying, J.' chain a hha nig
Pdrnig air Eirinn, which is explained to mean the body of laws
which the Saint gave to his adopted country. The word afterwards
came to mean a charge upon land. It was often applied to a
portion of the rent paid in kind ; and kain hens is a well-known
term in Lowland Scotch. Cain means now in some districts
a iax, in others a fine. In my native parish the word is restricted
to the blacksmith's dues, which are paid in kind. So
in South Argyle ioinneamh is the miller's share of the meal
for grinding it ; and hunndaist — literally pouiuIa.ge — is applied
by Rob Donn to designate the weaver's portion. The
growing of flax and the manufacture of linen have dissappeared in
Colonsay within my own recollection. The simidean is on the way
to the museum, but the seiceil can again be turned to practical
use in giving the final dressing to tlie tangled heads of candidates
for Parliament. The spinning of wool is decreasing, and the
weaving and dressing of woollen cloth is being rapidly transferred
to the mills. Here is an interesting section of our lyric poetry
the waulking songs—being hushed for ever, and the whole vocabulary
of a native industry in process of translation to the region
of metaphor— the calanas of the good-wife, with her cuiyeal and
fearsaid, her clreadh and tlamadh and cladadh, her eacliau and
crois, crann-deilhli : and the weaver with his heairt and slinn and
coiinhead and spell and iteachun and fudhagan and goyan-treiscin
and diuth and inneach and eige, and a hundred more of useful articles
and good Gaelic words. That most fascinating phase of Highland
rural life—the airidh—which lias produced so many beautiful lyrics,
and especially those of the joyous and merry class, of which Gaelic
possesses too few, is to most of us only a memory, if even so much.
About the end of last century the airidh formed an essential part
of the rural economy of the tenantry in the heart of Inverness-
shire. Mrs Grant of Laggan describes it, and was equally captivated
by the poetry and the profits of the shieliiv^s. This phase
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