AN GAOḊAL
417
AN MADA-TIĠE & AN MACTÍRE.
Oiḋċe ġealaiġ aṁáin do ṫárla gur
casaḋ Mactíre seang, ucraċ le Mada-
tiġe roṁar, sar ḃeaṫuiġṫe. Tar éis
a g-g ceud ḃeannuġaḋ d'a ċéile, "Cad
fáṫ, mo ċara," ar san Mactíre, "go
m-breaṫnuiġeann tú ċo sgiaṁaċ? naċ
maiṫ a ṫig do ḃiaḋ leat! & táim-se in
seo d' oiḋċe 's de ló i dreimseaċd le
mo ḃeaṫa & air éigin ionann mé ḟéin a
ċongḃáil ó ġorta." "Maiseaḋ," ars
an Mada, "dá m-beiḋṫeá mar mise,
ní'l agad le deunaḋ aċ mar ġnímse."
"Go daiṁin," ar seisean, "a's cad é
sin?" "Ní'l," i d'ḟreagair an Mada,
"aċ aṁáin teaċ an Ṁáiġisdir do ċúṁ¬
daċ & na gaduiġṫe ċongḃáil uaiḋe san
oiḋċe." 'Le lán mo ċroiḋe; óir, i lá¬
ṫair ní'l aċ saoġal dona agam. Is
cráiḋte an obair ḋam an ḃeaṫa ḟiaḋ¬
uiġ seo, le seoc & báisteaċ. Saoilim
gur maiṫ an ṁalairt ḋam díon fasgaiḋ
do ḃeiṫ os mo ċionn & lán boilg de
ḃeaṫa do ḃeiṫ i g-coṁnuiḋe faoi mo
láiṁ." "Go cinte," ars an Mada, &
ní'l faice le deunaḋ agad aċ mise do
leanaṁuint." 'Nois mur ḃiḋeadar ag
bogaḋ le ċéile, do ḋearc an Mactíre
lorg ar ṁuineul an Ṁadaiḋ, & mí-ṡuaiṁ
neaċ 'na leiṫ ní ḟeudfaḋ sé gan fios¬
raḋ cad do ċialluiġ sé. "Uċ! ní'l dad¬
aiḋ," ars an Mada "Aċ, abair," ars
an Mactíre. Uċ! ruidín suaraċ, b'
ḟéidir gur b'é lorg nairc mo ṡláḃraḋ."
"Sláḃraḋ!" gáir an Mactíre le ion¬
gantas: "Ní mian leat a ráḋ naċ d¬
tig leat triall anns gaċ am & ins gaċ
áit is áill leat?" "Ní ṡé sin é go dí¬
reaċ, b'ḟéidir; meastar go ḃ-fuilim
mur deárṫá fiocraċ & mar sin ceang¬
altar suas san ló mé cor uair, aċ
dearḃaim duit go ḃ-fuil cead mo ċinn
san oiḋċe agam, & beaṫuiġeann an
máiġisdir d'a ṁéis féin mé, & tugann
na searḃḟóġantaiḋe a m-beaduiġeaċd
féin ḋam, & tá mé mo ṗeata ċo mór,
& — aċ cad atá ort? ca ḃ-fuil tú dul?
"Uċ! oiḋċe ṁaiṫ leat," ars an Mactí¬
re; "ní mór liom do ḃeaduiġeaċt ort;
aċ daṁ-sa, sgreabóg ṫirm & cead mo
ċoise anaġaiḋ sollaṁuin riġ le slaḃra."
THE HOUSE DOG and the WOLF
[Translation in opposite column]
A lean, hungry Wolf chanced one
moonshiny night to fall in with a
plump, well fed House-Dog After the
first compliments were passed between
them, "How is it, my friend,” said the
Wolf, “that you look so sleek ? How
well your food agrees with you and
here am I striving for my living night
and day, and can hardly save myself
from starving." “Well,” says the Dog,
“if you would fare like me, you have
only to do as I do" "Indeed," said he,
"and what is that?' "Why," replies
the Dog, 'just to guard the master's
house and keep off the thieves at night"
"With all my heart; for at present I
have but a sorry time of it. This wood
land life, with its frosts and rains, is
sharp work for me. To have a warm
roof over my head and a belly full of
victuals alway at hand will, methinks,
be no bad exchange.” “True,” says
the Dog; 'therefore you have nothing
to do but follow me." Now as they
were jogging along together, the Wolf
spied a mark on the Dog’s neck, and
having a strange curiosity, could not
forbear asking what it meant. "Pooh,
nothing at all,” says the Dog. "Nay,
but pray — says the Wolf. "Oh! a
mere trifle, perhaps the collar by which
my chain is fastened —" “Chain!"
cries the Wolf in surprise; “you do
not mean to say that you cannot rove
when and where you please?” Why,
not exactly perhaps; you see l am
looked upon as rather fierce, so they
sometimes tie me up in the day-time
but I assure you I have perfect liberty
at night, and the master feeds me off
his own plate, and the servants give
me their tit-bits, and I am such a fa¬
vorite, and — but what is the matter
where are you going?" "Oh, good
night to you,' says the Wolf; “you are
welcome to your dainties: but for me,
a dry crust with liberty against a king's
luxury with a chain."
