Tatties from Chuckie-stanes
Mammies and daddies and grandmothers used to tell these wonderful tales of Christmas around the camp-fires to their children, to give them comfort. Some of the stories were sad, every one was good. It was just the parents showing you that having a lot of things at Christmas wasn’t really necessary. Having a belief and the understanding of Christmas was far better.
ONCE upon a time there was a poor lady that lived beside the forest. She had an awful lot of children, an sometimes it was pretty hard fir her because she didna have a husband. She scraped an scratched as much as she could, she used tae take in washin and sewin and things fir tae keep the children alive – she had aboot seven or eight o’ them, all wee steps an stairs, ye know!
An it cam roon about Christmas time. She had nothing tae give them, not a thing in the house, but she had nae idea whar tae get anything. They start’t asking fir something tae eat. So tae keep them quiet she start’t tellin them stories, but the stories wisnae fillin their stomachs. They said, ‘Mammy, we want somethin tae eat, boil us some potates!’
So tae brighten their hearts up a wee bit, she goes out tae the front o’ the house. There used tae be a wee brook runnin past the house many years ago, an durin the summer when times wis better wi her she’d gathered all the bonnie wee white stanes, we call em ‘chuckie-stanes’, an pit them round her garden path. So she took her pot an filled it full o’ stanes, put water on em, shaken some salt on em an put them on the fire. It was one o’ thon old-fashion’t fires wi the big old-fashion’t arm that comes oot the side – she hung the pot on.
All her kids gather’t round. ‘What are ye doin, Mammy?’ says the little one.
She says, ‘Youse asked fir potates an I’m going tae boil ye some. I hope youse enjoy them because they’ll take a long while tae boil’ – thinkin in her own mind, ‘be the time thae “potates” wis supposed tae be boiled the hunger would leave them and they would all faa asleep.’
But she didnae know … who had restit on the wind-aesole but a woodland fairy! It had landit an heard what wis goin on. An the fairy felt very sad – the mother wi all the children should have nothing but everybody else in the village had plenty – specially comin nearer Christmas. So the fairy cast a spell on the pot.
The pot begun tae boil and the children wis saying, ‘Mammy, lift the pot off now, lift the pot off an see – the potates is boiled!’ Mammy liftit it off, poured the water off; it was only stones she had put in the pot. All the wee children gather’t round. But when she lifted the lid off there wis the most beautiful potates ye ever saw in yir life, dry as anything, jist burstin up like flowers!
An the lady was surprised – she felt that God … ‘At least,’ she says, ‘I’ve got potates – but hoo in the world?’ She says tae hersel, ‘It must ha’ been a fairy.’ So she liftit all the potates oot an pit them on a nice plate on the table. She gave them all round tae all the bairns, and there were nothing left fir hersel. So she looked in the bottomo’ the pot. All the wee scrapins o’ tatties that wis left – she took a spoon an says tae hersel, ‘This’ll have tae be enough fir me.’ She scraped the bottom an put them on a plate, but when she turned up the spoon it was full o’ gold sovereigns! An she scraped the pot clean till she had a full plate o’ gold sovereigns. She stood an scratched her head, ‘I wonder,’ she says, ‘whar that could come fae? Because they were nae in the pot when I put them stones in fir the bairns tae boil. Some lucky fairy must ha’ been thinkin o’ me the night when she done that fir me.’
So she washed all the potates off the gold sovereigns, took the money an told the oldest one, ‘You look after the wee ones ti I come back, an I’ll no be long.’ She run doon tae the village, intae the shops and she bought everything she could think of: decorations fir the house, yon big Christmas bells, oranges an apples, all the fruit, nuts an everything, presents fir every one o’ them, ti she wis loaded an couldnae carry no more. An she still had gold sovereigns left cause the fairy had gien her plenty. She gev her children the best Christmas they ever had in their life; they were happy blowin on things an puttin paper hats on their heads. They didnae know it wis a wee woodland fairy that had given them that lovely Christmas, and that’s the last o’ ma wee story.
The Dog and the Manger
The travelling folk are religious in their own way. Mostly their religion comes from all the animals; animals can teach you because they know and are intelligent towards things that humans never regard or respect. The donkey or ‘cuddy’ is sacred to the Scottish travellers, they’ll not ill-treat this animal, overload or be bad to it in any way … This is the story, so sit down and listen! Then you’ll be able to tell it to your children when you grow up.
THE old collie dog was tired as he lay beside his master on the hillside that lovely moonlit night. His master was a shepherd who watched the sheep all night through to take care of them, because in these days long long ago there were many wolves and foxes. The shepherd had two young dogs he’d reared up and kept along with the old collie, but he loved and respected his old collie most because he’d had it for many many years. So they sat on the hillside and the moon rose higher; it was beautiful and the stars were shining.
The shepherd turned round and said to the collie, ‘Old fellow, you must be tired. You ran a lot this morning, more than you should have, and you know you’re getting old now. I’m sure there’s no use the four of us sitting here. Why don’t you go home and go in the byre, sleep among the hay for the night? It’ll make you fresh for tomorrow. Me and your young offspring here will take care of the sheep.’
The old collie sat up, his tongue hanging out, and he looked at his master. He wondered why his master didn’t want him. He understood the language all right, but some things his master said he didn’t really understand. When the master said ‘go home old friend’ he knew the meaning perfectly. He thought to himself, ‘My master doesn’t need me this night so I’ll go home.’ He really was tired.
So the old dog trotted back to the small steadings and the farm where he lived. He curled up in the byre among the hay and straw that had been placed in the stalls. And his old friend the donkey came in from the cold; he was a free agent who wandered around the farm to his heart’s content. And the collie couldn’t remember when he’d ever seen the place without the donkey. The donkey walked into one of the stalls and started chewing on the hay or straw or whatever was left out. The collie curled up to go to sleep. He heard his friend the donkey chewing, chewing, chewing, on and on and on.
Then a little later he heard voices coming through the doorway. He wondered, ‘Is that my master coming home?’ And he looked out. It was still dark, but the moon was shining clear, he thought to himself, ‘It can’t be my master, it’s not his time yet. He always comes home by daylight when the sheep’ll be safe, because no predators or any kind of wild animal will disturb them during the day.’ So he was wide awake and sitting in the stall one down from the donkey, when lo and behold who should walk to the stall beside him but a woman! A young beautiful woman and a man with a beard. The collie had never seen these people before and he wondered who they were. He said to himself, ‘They must be strangers seeking their lodging for the night.’
So the dog curled back, he never said a yelp, never said a bark. He watched them; the man took his wife by the hand and led her into the empty stall that had little straw in it. And there was a manger above them for holding the hay for feeding the cattle but there were no cattle in the byre this night. The dog sat and he listened, he heard the man talking and he knew well what they were saying.
The man said, ‘This is where we’ll stay, we shall find shelter here for the night.’ He looked around, ‘It’s only a dog and a donkey and I’m sure they won’t disturb us.’ He said, ‘Are you all right, my dear?’
‘Well,’ she says, ‘I don’t feel very well.’
And the man rakes up the hay, he places it, makes a little bed. He says, ‘I’m sure … will it happen tonight?’
; She says, ‘I think it’ll happen in moments.’
The collie dog he’s sitting there. The donkey stops chewing his hay and all is quiet. And then lo and behold the man says, ‘Are you needing any help?’
‘No,’ she says, ‘I’ll manage myself. Just you stand there at the stall entrance and see that I have a little privacy for a few moments.’
And the man stands there … he walks back and forward. And the dog lies, he never says a word but he hears everything that is going on. Lo and behold the next thing the dog hears is the crying of a little baby … a little baby cried.
And the dog said, ‘This woman, this being, this human being must be giving birth to a baby right here beside us in the stall! I have never seen this before.’ And he crawled slowly round a wee bit closer, he keeked round the stall. Lo and behold the woman was holding up the most beautiful little baby that you ever saw! It had long dark golden hair. It was wet. And the husband ran in.
He pulled off his covering of cloth, his cloak, he told her, ‘Use this!’ And his wife wrapped the baby in it.
She said, ‘He’s a wonderful child.’
Then the husband said, ‘We need some place to put him for a wee while.’
And she said, ‘Put some straw in the manger just above where I lie, and put him there for a few moments.’
The husband shook the straw along the manger and he took this little baby wrapped in his own cloth, he stood naked to the waist, and he put him up in the manger. And the old collie dog, he was keeking round the stall, he saw the most beautiful thing he ever saw in his life: he saw a star shining through the window. The star seemed to come closer and closer and closer – till it shone right above the window. The dog had never seen this before and he wondered why such a star had come so close … his thoughts were on his master in the hillside. He wondered if his master would be disturbed by this same shining star. But then his thoughts changed, he heard the man and the woman talking.
He said, ‘Look, we must stay here for the night. But we must find better shelter for our child tomorrow. I’m sure he will be all right, though, nothing’s going to happen to him. He’s a lovely child.’
The old dog sat and listened to all they said. And the child never said one word. Finally the talking stopped and the dog fell asleep. But he wakened early in the morning when he heard a disturbance next to the stall where he lay. This was the man and his wife getting up and taking the child from the manger where he lay during the night.
And the man says, ‘I must go to the village to find some help for you. There must be someone there who’ll give you help.’
She says, ‘I feel well, husband, I feel fine, lovely.’
He says, ‘I know you feel lovely but I must find some help for you and the child.’
She says, ‘Husband, it’s a long way to the village. We passed it through and they wouldn’t give us any shelter and that’s why we ended up here.’
He says, ‘We’ll go back with the baby, and when they see the baby they’ll probably give us shelter.’
‘But,’ she says, ‘husband, I’m too weak, I can’t walk.’
‘Oh,’ he says, ‘don’t worry, my dear, don’t worry. You’ll no need to walk. There’s a little donkey here and I’m sure the farmer won’t mind if I borrow it for a few hours to take you to the village.’ So the man walked in and took a rope, a halter from the wall. He put it on the donkey’s head, but no saddle or bridle or anything. He lifted his wife up and placed her on the donkey’s back. He went to the manger and picked out the wee child, put him in her arms.
And the old collie’s sitting watching this. He wonders and he wonders, wonders … if his master knew about this … what a story he could tell if only he could speak to him! Then daylight came and the man with the beard, with not a stitch on his body because his cloak was wrapped round the Baby, walked out the doorway leading the donkey with the woman and the child. And he walked away. The collie had never seen anything like this before in his life. He wondered, ‘Would he ever see his old friend the donkey again?’ But he loved that little child and he wished he had seen him closer. He crawled up in the straw and fell asleep.
The next thing he heard was a whistle – his master was back from the hills with the two young dogs. He came before them with a large tray of food and he put the dogs in the byre. Then the shepherd walked to his little cottage beside the farmhouse to have his own breakfast. But the old dog didn’t feel like eating. He didn’t feel like anything. He just wanted one thing in his life that he’d never had – to look at the baby because he had never seen his face. After the young dogs had fed themselves, they curled up and went to sleep, and the old collie dog went to sleep.
How long he slept he doesn’t know, but the next thing he hears is ‘hoof hoof’ beats on the floor. In comes the old donkey, just by himself. And instead of going to his own stall, he walks into the stall where the old dog lay. The old collie looks up, says, ‘Hello, old friend, you’re back.’
And the donkey speaks to the dog, ‘Yes, I’m back. I had such a wonderful experience. I walked to the village and I carried this beautiful young woman and her child. But,’ he says, ‘I feel queer and funny now.’
‘And did you see the baby?’ says the collie dog.
‘Yes,’ says the donkey, ‘I saw the baby, the most beautiful baby in this world.’
And the old collie says, ‘I wish I had seen the baby.’
‘You will,’ says the donkey, ‘some day you will see him. He will come again. He will come again and everyone will understand. But not talking about him or talking about you,’ says the donkey, ‘do you see something strange about me?’
‘No,’ says the collie, ‘I don’t see anything strange about you. You’re just a donkey to me and I’m just a dog to you.’
‘Look again,’ says the donkey. ‘Look once more. See if there’s something about me that you’ve never seen before.’
And the collie looks and says, ‘You’ve four legs like me and you’ve got a tail, you’ve got a head and ears like what I’ve got. You’ve got a mane and hair – just like me.’
‘No,’ says the donkey, ‘there’s something else you must see. And I hope in the future many people will see it, for when they see it they’ll probably understand!’
‘Understand what?’ says the collie dog. ‘Tell me what you mean!’
‘Look on my shoulders,’ says the donkey, ‘and tell me what you see.’
The collie stood up, he put his front paws up against the wall and he looked. The donkey wasn’t very high. He looked on the donkey’s back, and lo and behold for the first time in his life – across the donkey’s shoulders was the cross in black. ‘What is that?’ said the collie who had never seen this before.
‘That,’ said the donkey, ‘is the mark of the child who was born this night. It was given to me and will remain with me for eternity, until some day he comes and shows his face to everyone.’
‘Then maybe I’ll see him,’ said the dog, ‘maybe I will see him again?’
‘You’ll see him,’ said the donkey, you’ll see him again; maybe not in this world, but maybe in another one when we leave this place.’ And that is the end of my story.
I Love You More Than Salt
This is a most popular story with children, especially in my school sessions. I remember my sisters were very fond of this one. Old Willie Williamson, my father’s cousin, told this story to us when we went for sticks for him, in the summer when he visited us in Argyll.
MANY years ago there once lived a king and his queen and they had three beautiful daughters. The king and queen loved these daughters from their heart, but lo and behold the queen took sick, very very sick. She pined away and she died. The king was so upset to lose his beautiful queen, and his daughters were very sad to lose their mother.
But the king drew his daughters together, he told them, ‘Look, children, your mother has gone to another world an some day I hope we’ll meet her again. But the main thing is you must be happy an take
it for grantit ye have me to take care of you. And some day when I’m gone one of youse will be queen of all this country.’
So years passed by and the three little princesses grew up. The king enjoyed his hunting and his shooting, he enjoyed everything; he was a good king, his people, subjects of the country, loved him. But one particular night the king thought to himself, ‘I’m getting older as the years pass by an I don’t have a son to come after me to be king. One o’ my daughters will surely make a good queen. But who? Which one would be the best? I know they are carin an they’re lovin, they’re very nice. But I’ll have tae put them to the test – see which one is fit to be queen tae rule after me.’
So the king being a busy king attending to all his subjects and things in his country, he didn’t have a lot of time to spend with his princesses. He saw them from day to day and dined with them and talked to them, but he had never had a serious discussion with them. So one evening he told his couriers and all the people in the palace he wanted to be left alone because he was going to spend this evening with his daughters. After their meal he called the three princesses together, and they came and sat round beside him.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘young ladies, I want tae talk to youse. You know that it’s been a long while since your mother died. And I’ve tried my best, everyone around the palace has tried their best, to bring you up an teach you, make you what we want you to be – young princesses of this kingdom. I’ve not really had a serious talk to youse before, but tonight I want to find out which of youse will be queen after I’m gone!’
The King and the Lamp Page 5