500
AN GAOḊAL.
Mr. Lyons of Philadelphia suggests the idea of
giving the Gaelic Alphabet, with the sounds of the
letters, in each issue of the Gael because, he says,
that any Irish-speaking person can read Irish as
soon as he can give the proper sounds of the let¬
ters. This is a fact: Irish-speaking persons who
join the Philo Celtic Society are able to read the
language tolerably well in six months, and it is a
shame for an Irishman to admit that he would
not devote that short space to it. Mr. Lyons has
sent a table of the sounds, but as we have the fol¬
lowing in block form we shall use it for the pres¬
ent.
THE GAELIC ALPHABET.
Irish.
Roman.
Sound
Irish.
Roman.
Sound.
a
a
aw
m
m
emm
b
b
bay
n
n
enn
c
c
kay
o
o
oh
d
d
dhay
p
p
pay
e
e
ay
r
r
arr
f
f
eff
s
s
ess
g
g
gay
t
t
thay
i
i
ee
u
u
oo
l
l
ell
Sound of the Vowels — long. —
á sounds like
a in war, as
bárr, top.
é " "
e " ere, "
céir, wax.
í " "
ee " eel, "
mín, fine.
ó " "
o " old, "
ór, gold.
ú " "
u " rule, "
úr, fresh.
Short. —
a " "
a in what,
as, gar, near.
e " "
e " bet,,
" beḃ, died.
i " "
i " ill;
" mil, honey
o " "
o " got,
" lot, wound.
u " "
u " put,
" rud, thing.
Ḃ and ṁ sound like w when followed
or preceded by a, o, u, as, a ḃárd, his
bard, pronounced a wardh; a ṁart,
his beef or ox, pronounced a warth;
and like w when preceded by e, i, as,
a ḃean, his wife, pronounced, a van, a
ṁian, his desire, pronounced. a vee-un
Ḋ and ġ sound like y at the beginning
of a word; they are almost silent in
the middle and perfectly so at the end
of words. Ċ sounds like ch; ṗ, Iike f,
ṡ and ṫ, like h; and ḟ is silent.
Let the Irish speaker pronounce the word,
saoġal, the physical world, omitting
the sound of the aspirate ġ, and he will
produce a nearly correct sound, thus,
sao-al; and so with nearly all the oth¬
er aspirates. Aiṫḃeoḋuiġ, to reanimate,
"a-vo-y,” which is nearly its perfect
sound; beannuiġṫe, blessed, beann-i-e,
etc.
SIGNS OF RAIN.
The following signs of rain were given by Dr.
Jenner, in 1810 to a lady, in reply to her inquiry
whether it would rain to-morrow.
The hollow winds begin to blow,
The clouds look black, the grass is low,
The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep,
And spiders from their cabwebs creep;
Last night the sun went pale to bed,
The moon in halves hid her head,
The boding shepherd heaves a sigh,
For see, a rainbow spans the sky;
The walls are damp, the ditches smell,
Closed is the pink-eyed pimpernel;
The squalid toads at dusk were seen,
Slowly crawling o'er the green,
Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry.
The distant hills are looking nigh ;
Hark! how the chairs and tables crack,
Old Betty's joints are on the rack :
And see you rooks, how odd their flight,
They imitate the gliding kite
Or seem precipitate to fall
As if they felt the piercing ball.
How restless are the snorting swine,
The busy flies disturb the kine;
Low o’er the grass the swallow wings ;
The cricket, too, how loud she sings !
Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws,
Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws:
'Twill surely rain. I see with sorrow,
Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.
In any of our readers knows the
song of which this is a part, please
send It:
Is fada mé guairdeal air ṫuairisg mná
tiġe,
Aċ a tuairisg níor ḟuair mé a m-baile
no i d-tír
No go ḃ-facaiḋ mé uaim í, air ṫaoḃ
cnoic 'na suiḋe,
'Sa gruag 'na trí dualtaiḃ d'a scuab-
aḋ le gaoiṫ."
in line 4 of the 2nd verse of “Oh
Blame not the Bard," in last number,
the c of cosaint should not be aspira¬
ted, reference being made to Ireland,
a feminine noun.
We expect those who do not pay
their subscriptions in advance to pay
$1 at the end of the term.
Send Sixty Cents for the Gaoḋal.
See page 506
