Angus MacLellan, a ploughman from South Uist, describes encountering #Perthshire #Gàidhlig when he worked there c.1889-1893 in an interview translated by John Lorne Campbell:

"There was plenty of Gaelic in Perthshire when I was there. The Gaelic there, indeed, it wasn't good."

"At the end I could understand every word they said, and I could speak their Gaelic just as well as they could. I can still remember their Gaelic, every word they had.

We call the place where we keep our stacks 'an iothlann'. Well, they called it a 'loin'."

"We call men cutting grass with scythes 'spealadairean' and they called them 'fàladairean'. Ploughing (which we call) 'treobhadh', they called 'crann-aireachd'. And carts, 'cairtean', well, that's not correct Gaelic, 'cairtean' isn't the Gaelic at all, but they called them 'cùb'.

"And grass cut for drying, they called 'saoidh'; they called green grass, grass that was growing 'fiar', they called that 'fiar' right enough. There were very few words they had right compared with Argyll-shire or Inverness-shire Gaelic."

"They called a wall 'digean' instead of 'garradh'. Well I think that was only something they got from English (dyke); they called it 'dig'.

I could make more of their Gaelic than they could of mine; they couldn't understand me, they could make very little out of it (...)"

"Until I told it to them again. One day we were at work threshing, and what happened but the feeding bolt of the threshing mill broke. The grieve shouted to me from above - he was feeding the mill and I was down below at the grain -"

"'Go down to the dairy and bring me a 'burral' (brace) and some nails'

I stopped. I didn't know what in the world a 'burral' was. 'Who's got that?' I said.

'Go along', he said, 'Babby will give it to you.' Babby was the dairymaid.

'Is Babby going to lay a "burral"?' I said

"Oh, the Devil take you, you know the Gaelic for it, and you don't understand it."

"I don't understand YOUR Gaelic" I said, "Your Gaelic couldn't be worse if you had learnt it from the crows."

"Well," he said, "do you know what a "brace" is?"

"Oh, aye, aye," I said, "a snìomhaire", for making holes. Oh, if that's what a 'burral' is, I'll get it right enough.

I went off along to the dairy then; I asked for what he himself had asked. Oh, Babby went at once and got me the 'snìomhaire', and handed it to me."

"I came back with it.

'Is that what you're wanting?' I said.

'It is,' he said. 'What do you call it yourself?'

'A snìomhaire', I said.

'A snìomh?'

'Not a snìomh,' I said, 'but a snìomhaire'.

'Oh, I can only let you be.' he said.

"That's how I was getting on there; they were very fine people; big strong men. Before I left they could understand every word I said, and they were very willing to learn my Gaelic, too. They said it was much better than their's."

"I didn't know much English myself when I joined the Militia, but I could understand more than I could speak. It was difficult at first."

"But the time I spent at Rowardennan helped me a lot; I don't think I spoke three words of Gaelic as long as I was there, there wasn't anyone for me to speak to."

The last note there refers to him spending about two years working at Rowardennan by Loch Lomond, Stirlingshire.