The witches' brooms (1)
				              
    
        Have you ever noticed the clumps of small twigs that are often in the
        foliage of the birch tree? They are like brooms, aren’t they? Thatʼs
        what they are – witches’ brooms. And how did they get there? Well,
        hereʼs how it happened.
    
    
        There were at one time two brothers – Alex and Archie – who were
        crofters in Argyll. Alex was the elder of them. He owned the croft and
        he was the leader. He was paying wages to Archie of sixpence a week
        when he thought it was appropriate.
    
    
        One day Alex and Archie were building a dyke. A travelling man
        appeared. ‘Does this land belong to you?’ he asked.
    
     ‘No,’ replied Alex. ‘Why?’
    
        ‘I’d like to get permission to get a little of that heather,’ said the
        traveller. There was long heather growing on the far side of the dyke.
    
    
        ‘You can pull heather without asking permission,’ said Alex. ‘What will
        you make with it?’
    
     ‘Brooms for selling,’ said the other man.
     ‘What do you get for each broom?’ asked Archie.
     ‘Sixpence usually.’
     ‘And how long does it take to make a broom?’ said Archie.
     ‘Two hours,’ said the travelling man.
    
        ‘Two hours?!’ said Archie. ‘It takes me a week to make sixpence! When
        my brother is in a good mood.’
    
    
        Alex said that the travelling man could take a load of heather with
        him. The traveller leaped over the dyke. He pulled heather until he had
        a shoulder-load. ‘Thanks,’ he said, and he started on the road.
    
    
        Archie followed him. He stopped him. ‘Is it easy to make a broom?’ he
        asked. ‘Easy enough,’ replied the traveller. He explained to him how he
        would make one for himself. Archie thanked him and he returned.
    
     ‘There you go, Archie,’ said his brother. ‘We have work to do.’
    ‘No,’ replied Archie. ‘I’ll no longer work for you. I’m going to make
    brooms.’ Thatʼs how Archie started a new trade as a maker of brooms. And
    I’ll tell you about the birch trees next week.
				             
				            
				              Sguaban nam Bana-bhuidseach (1)
				              
    An do mhothaich sibh riamh do na badain de mhion-mheanglan a tha gu tric
    ann an duilleach na craoibhe-beithe? Tha iad coltach ri sguaban, nach eil?
    ʼS e sin a th’ annta – sguaban bhana-bhuidseach. Agus ciamar a fhuair iad
    ann? Uill, seo mar a thachair e.
    Bha uaireigin dithis bhràithrean – Ailig agus Eairdsidh – a bha nan
    croitearan ann an Earra-Ghàidheal. B’ e Ailig a bu shine dhiubh. ʼS ann
    leis-san a bha a’ chroit agus ʼs ann aigesan a bha ceannas. Bha e a’
    pàigheadh tuarastal do dh’Eairdsidh de bhonn-a-sia san t-seachdain nuair a
    bha e a’ smaoineachadh gun robh e iomchaidh.
    Latha a bha seo, bha Ailig is Eairdsidh a’ togail gàrradh. Nochd
    fear-siubhail. ‘An ann leibh fhèin a tha am fearann seo?’ dh’fhaighnich e.
    ‘Chan ann,’ fhreagair Ailig. ‘Carson?’
    ‘Bu mhath leam cead fhaighinn beagan dhen fhraoch sin fhaighinn,’ thuirt am
    fear-siubhail. Bha fraoch fada a’ fàs air taobh thall a’ ghàrraidh.
    ‘Faodaidh tu fraoch a tharraing gun chead iarraidh,’ thuirt Ailig. ‘Dè nì
    thu leis?’
    ‘Sguaban airson reic,’ thuirt am fear eile.
    ‘Dè gheibh thu air gach sguaib?’ dh’fhaighnich Eairdsidh.
    ‘Gheibh bonn-a-sia mar as trice.’
    ‘Agus dè cho fad ʼs a bheir e dhut sguab a dhèanamh?’ thuirt Eairdsidh.
    ‘Dà uair a thìde,’ ars am fear-siubhail.
    ‘Dà uair a thìde?’ thuirt Eairdsidh. ‘Cosgaidh e seachdain dhomh
    bonn-a-sia a chosnadh! Nuair a tha mo bhràthair ann an sunnd mhath.’
    Thuirt Ailig gum faodadh am fear-siubhail eallach de fhraoch a thoirt leis.
    Leum am fear-siubhail thar a’ ghàrraidh. Tharraing e fraoch gus an robh gad
    aige. ‘Taing dhuibh,’ thuirt e, agus thòisich e air an rathad.
    Lean Eairdsidh air. Chuir e stad air. ‘A bheil e furasta sguab a dhèanamh?’
    dh’fhaighnich e. ‘Furasta gu leòr,’ fhreagair am fear-siubhail. Mhìnich e
    dha ciamar a dhèanadh e tè dha fhèin. Thug Eairdsidh taing dha, agus thill
    e.
    ‘Siuthad a-nis, Eairdsidh,’ thuirt a bhràthair. ‘Tha obair againn ri
    dhèanamh.’
    ‘Chan eil,’ fhreagair Eairdsidh. ‘Cha dèan mi obair dhut tuilleadh. Tha mi
    a’ dol a dhèanamh sguaban.’ ʼS ann mar sin a thòisich Eairdsidh air ceàird
    ùr mar fhear-dèanaimh sguaban. Agus innsidh mi dhuibh mu na craobhan-beithe
    an-ath-sheachdain.