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 TOME Naeetie eek EO Ie 1) 
 
 AUTHOR OF ‘‘ART RAMBLES IN SHETLAND” 
 
 TAKEN FROM 
 
 WITH 
 156 PKETCHES 
 NATURE AND DRAWN ON WOOD BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 ENGRAVED BY DALZIEL BROTHERS 
 
 eR GE 
 
 LONDON AND NEW YORK 
 
 Res ed bee bee, LP Cre EPA NE Type Sy eC et Sy 
 1878 
 
 Nyy 
 al 
 
LOCH SEAFORTH, LEWIS. 
 
 Brees i er PAWS Od ah 
 
 HE Author has hope that he who reads this volume 
 
 will have a share of the pleasure which fell to his 
 
 own lot while he visited the scenes he has endeavoured to 
 
 describe and illustrate. He desires that his pictorial pages 
 
 may aid those whose time is spent in earnest labour, amid 
 
 the disturbing influences of city life, to live over again the 
 
 health-giving days spent in our mountain land, and is wish- 
 
 ful that his Rambles may prove an agreeable book com- 
 panion to all who make its acquaintance. 
 
 He has not entered the fields of archeology, history, 
 or science. As author and artist he has enrolled himself a 
 graduate in Dame Nature’s school. 
 
 The pictures were taken from our Highland and Island 
 land and sea-scape, and drawn on the wood from his original 
 sketches by his own hand. He gladly acknowledges his 
 indebtedness to Messrs. DauzreL Broruers for their faithful 
 and appreciative rendering of his drawings. 
 
 2t Broughton Place, Edinburgh. 
 August, 1877. 
 
 B « 
 
 DS ey 
 
BURNSIDE, NEAR EDINBURGH. 
 
t CORRIE, DUNDONALD. 
 " 
 : (AGEN TLR VN eS: 
 : 
 : hater 
 : CHAPTER PAGE 
 I.—THE FIRTH OF FORTH : : , A ; 1 
 IIl.—TROSACHSWARDS, vid STIRLING ; ; ; : Salar e 
 _ IIl.L—LOCHS KATRINE AND LOMOND : , : 5 33 
 IV.—A TRIP TO ARRAN’S ISLE ‘ ; : : » $52 
 4 V.—AMONG THE ISLES . ; , 66 
 VI.—GLENCOE AND THE GREAT GLEN 4 ; : 5 exe) 
 VII.—LOCHS MAREE AND TORRIDON , : : F gi 
 VIIIL—DAYS SPENT IN THE ISLE OF SKYE ; ; : eon 
 IX.—LEWIS I15 
 X.—THE NORTH-EAST COAST OF SCOTLAND . : : M2132 
 XIL.—ABERDEEN, AND HOME v@ BALMORAL AND THE BRAES OF MAR 145 
 XII.—-EDINBURGH AND ITS SURROUNDINGS , ; : a.1S5 
 APPENDIX F 165 
 2 ; 
 , BRIDGE AT ABERFOYLE. 
 
ea 
 
ae 
 
 SUTHERLAND MOUNTAINS. 
 PDS a0 FO Ray ele haves 
 oS 
 
 Opposite page Opposite page 
 THE PORT OF LEITH........ Slopes heat Scioutenamn nese 2 LOCH MAREE .,,,., coecanae bi ctcic eae Srerays eparesees IRC ys) 
 STIRLING CASTLE, FROM RAPLOCH ...........55 18 RAVINE, LOCH MAREE-SIDE  ..........0.00+00+ oSime euraine =o 98 
 BRAES OF DOUNE ... 24 LOCH COIRUISG ........1.0.... Armee eee Dias Soeteoeeenees Tet LOS 
 BEN LEDI AND LENNIE WATER 28 INSLDH) CULRAING We: sss: -acse cesar eee Pace eres _ 1t2 
 BREAD-WIFE’S COTTAGE, BRIG O’ TURK 32 CUIRAING, FROM STAFFIN BAY ....ccscsscsseccsccsvsnares rae LEA 
 THE TROSACHS ... ay ev WINTER SCENE, SKYE .......... aE ees errr member 2 116 
 LOCH KATRINE, FROM SILVER STRAND 38 CLIFF SCENE NEAR GRESS, LEWIS 120 
 AGIA VERIVIER @ Cos hesccesessriscssvovcousk 42 GARRYNAHINE, LEWIS .........065 122 
 LOCH ACHRAY.... 44 CALLANISH, STONES, LEWIS... 124 
 Gres EME OOMRCINI I) Dee eeagie rsive sp aernactgese'n'leccuacasatealecsces onan 48 BEEHIVE COTTAGE, LEWIS ......... . 126 
 VIEW FROM THE TOP OF GOAT FELL ceameads eet BUDE OR IE WIS. modeensses casas ner etee 128 
 DUNGMARENAGE CASTLE .cipcicccscsserserlescesse eer ctecten | ie! LOCH MADDY, NORTH UIST. -ssc.,ewssecsee Sn aaeeupeeenate es «9 £30 
 SAMOA cas et oa dacs an swse2s > suas ccew esr Bos tegcdingemapeostecenety aed 72 LOCH OUSIE, NEAR DINGWALL ..........060+ Raga oaee es seas, EGA 
 ARUNDEL AAA Yip UTRICE GG scsisenu snes oaaeiaesa>asexaeras setae 74 OLDEMAN (OR GWICK G5; sssteeresneredsssnthianeteeee eueicens 140 
 HATUONEAR WLOBERMORY,, MULL i.2....0cterccsoscosccsnecnes 78 ABERDEEN HARBOUR igcers cadeeeyereeeres sascodetadoc nernced L40 
 GLENCOE |....2.0005 Eee debiiscaenee ee sesacevnde tes Donnie sees te 82 BALMORAL ..... setae dette s Resch Dhaest ddd-eteoseon 150 
 SILVER BIRCHES, INVERGARRY ...........+5 Roseeneckensadene 84 BRAES (OF MARU Toacmtassonssscoucatseusas seen eh meat acirs ieeees SER 
 GNETHEIOARRY\INVERGARRY c.ccsscecsssssateedscese on0sts 86 BRIDGE OF CALL Vigesssaseussnetes ste ceat uate eens Te EE: . 154 
 BOCHIOICH. CALEDONIAN CANAL). ..0..vece--c0sceeerisonces 88 CURRIE BURN, NEAR EDINBURGH............- pivedeacarscee) DOO, 
 CULLODEN @,..20.22- Sab tesbcoc RS UEEDEE CROROPECETIOCEL TS ace e Ec go VIEW FROM WEST PRINCES ST. GARDENS, EDINBURGH 162 
 
 Ieee RiP ROE S S97 Die Sais ge MNS 
 
 Page 
 LOCH‘SEAFORTH, LEWIS ..........00-00+ ..... lead of Preface 
 Bone Tes DUNDONALD. G: sajsscanexsdavecessose Head of Contents 
 BRIDGE AT) ABERFOYLE. ....060 ssscsesconeoes- Foot of Contents 
 
 ... Lead of List of Views 
 
 SUTHERLAND MOUNTAINS .,,.. 
 THE BASS KOCK ......... 
 
 NEWHAVEN . 2 
 INCHKEITH ....... 8 
 SWEETIE STALL ......... “ Io 
 EXCURSIONISTS RETURNING  .......cc.ccccccsecocccvcscrcscee 12 
 WILD ROSE 13 
 PALE GER IN IS Asp ociv anes soeain'seis.cWenrs oneSesusestecvaaesarseusiere wird 
 
 Page 
 
 DUM VAD Sip atce tr agiay eons a cetera eaten ee Cee 17 
 18 
 
 ABBEY CRAIG 19 
 TEENIE .... 22 
 SWEEP’S WAINS .. 25 
 ELLEN LAMB ..... 26 
 DOUNE CASTLE ..........- ieiesees ed Sa rates 27 
 VENACHAR, FROM ABOVE CALLANDER ..i.cececseeeeseee 29 
 DUNCRAGGAN HUT........ Lak aet Soke cwuneiraces aschevbessecee™ Oe 
 CALLANDER BRIDGWstostecconeniel eee ee Ae Ee Ee 
 
 Lo@H KATRINE,LOOKING TOWARDS STRONACHLACHAR 33 
 
\ . 
 Letterpress Illustrations. 
 
 Page Page 
 THE HILL: ROAD, GUEN RINDAS 2. .,.j0r reise mntaieats 35 ON THE CONON, NEAR DINGWALL ........ Lok swts See ee gr 
 ELLEN’S ISLE) Tic) caeetenetees arenes ee ae 37 FROM CONON BRIDGE ..........-- sdadtin ag teen: asters Saat 92 
 A PEEP AT LOCH KATRINE HEAD” fete ee eesees 38 BEN ALLIGAN, LOCH TORRIDON ........ sdine tastes erapsiges 94 
 CORRIE AT THE BACK OF BEN VENUE. w........0c0cee00 39 COTTAGE, LOCH TORRIDON....... Eads, daatescucte Sak enariats 95 
 EVENING SKETCH OF LOCH ACHRAY ......cececeseeees eat IN| GLEN ‘TORRIDON, ROSS-SHIREL . sscsc. .cesshpaceansaseoes 96 
 VIEW FROM THE INN WINDOW, ABERFOYLE ......... 43 AMONG THE DUNDONALD MOUNTAINS .......eeeeeeres 100 
 LOCH “ARD wvctsanessoncebs Causes cease FORCE rece ee tec 44 OPPOSITE SHE. CUIRAING® (fy.secscucesaxectsvetsige ee ecoe IOI 
 ABOVE SLOCH CARD! Siccupussersvaatttetyasncturemiscse ete senate me 45 |. PORTREE BAY, ISLE OF SKYE ........ ach salen Waa tonees pkOs 
 AT THE BACK OF BEN LOMOND .cccccecceeeeeeecesseeeeeee 46 COTTAGHS: STORMY HILL, SKYE: ...sh-10corestead wearers 104 
 LOCH ARELETs ccnccvaccansnt havens ene te deat: rept cgs tava mete 47 STORR ROCK, ISLE OF SKYE ..... deveketingdahs versa seeeeeers 106 
 LOCH) LOMOND SG. seesceaenesctaeeieece Jie awcataettop Seen ieee cea 47 GLAMAIG WATER, ISLE OF SKYE..... dade iogecdoeeentach es + 107 
 THE COBBLER AND? HIS: WIPE) -c.ts.csecastoseste rae eae 48 SCOOR-NAN-GILLEAN, ISLE OF SKYE ...s..eeeeeee exiaeene 1 ZOO 
 COBBLER IN (MIST Gs. .caccnceseeas wha dia eueticoatececponapeiaiets 49 OUT-STACK AND THE KILT ROCK, STAFFIN BAY, SKYE 113 
 COBBLER WIN MIS Ba s.ceseate teetee en = Sets De OOeeR Avateemnienes tated 49 STAFSIN: BAY, SK VE soc. csctesssesds varervcesscpacwacrssccneaots 114 
 SHE MORE GLEN, LOCH LOMOND-SIDE,...c...ee.sc0see000+ 51 STORNOWAY CASTLE........ Saeeeesnccecetenisssetospeanedtsseee II5 
 CLIFFS, WEST COAST OF ARRAN ..........+: 52 CAVE NEARUGRESS) LEWIS snes scsncchassacaeration ase I19 
 THE BOAT-BOUSE, BRODICK, ARRAN 54 MAINLAND MOUNTAINS, FROM ISLE OF LEWIS 121 
 GLEN ROSA MOUNTAINS, FROM BRODICK BAY, ISLE DRUID CIRCLE, NEAR GARRYNAHINE ..,. 122 
 
 OF L ARRAN, ,.ciieciesastvsamoenastwgustan saan ctes teases irene 56 CLIFFS, BUTT OF LEWIS ......... is 
 
 HOLY: ISLE 2 oz, 57 BUTT OF LEWIS LIGHTHOUSE 
 DAYDAWN, BRODICK BAY.. 230s eee ee eae 61 THE SHFANTMSLHS! hu geeceseee 
 COTTAGE AT LOCH RANZA, ARRAN .......ccceccescsseceees 63 ULLAPOOL, MOUNTAINS). \...c00cccccansows 
 LOCH RANZA CASTLE, ISLE OF ARRAN ......cecceceusees 64 LOCH MADDY, NORTH UIST, HEBRIDES ............ eee ee 
 SAILOR’S GRAVE, WEST OF ARRAN ..c...cceeseoe ceseeee Os WICK. BAY5.2.5, sasammadan mapetasse eemtsadtenesmaetousrs Ges nace l S2 
 MONA) eenipegtcevasaataceacesses saakiee vents depsetddast Aneta steed OO BEN WYVIS, FROM NEAR DINGWALL ...........cecseeee «. 134 
 ROTHESAY: BAY. - citgsecsa'ys nce sess -ac eevee terested eemetee seed 67 HOME OF THE TINKERS, WICK.......... RS ASR Sowiieies, TZ 
 COTTAGE ABOVE CRINAN (CANAL = ...c..asssctessecoueet 20) 68 NOSS HEAD ..... Peisneaetee eee Saasosena ssemnclaeats a aetae eee arnt AL 
 CRINAN« CANAL Uke ssstees-antesabe ateereee aeons vast tt upeeeneane 69 SINCLAIR BAY..... dcastdides sn acraers Oto ieee Sere, Prey eS 
 BUADDA 2A peces eeeincoscesaetessseavete sins aateae tesa eee ten ae S71 ARCH ON THE THURSO. COAST ........0..006 Kersaneeence eee LAS 
 LUNGAD star. cle aleacesseawanitin Shinnc einen edacinse eantialy Sincere Ae i CLIFFS TO THE WEST OF DUNNET HEAD..,.........006 143 
 DUTCHMAN'S CAP ...,...... eoeeacene asap cacaacteccsmueeeeeacaeee 71 THE CLETT STACK, NEAR THURSO..... sobs craigs wanes 144 
 STAR RA va. oxaecetsceivascrdescibs tteea tins stele cebiea te ase eee eae » 52 THE GREEN MARKET, ABERDEEN..........0000cecee00es es E45 
 OBAN  SOUND® ic. Jocs<s-sccsaseeeos cry concud (cs te nes sane 72 WRECK OF THE ‘‘DUNCHATTAN,” ABERDEEN BAY.. 147 
 CROAG, ISLE) OF MULL. x. sseccenesaeb cot cenassdscatentecek ste 73 OLD ABERDEEN) a ceecectesateerer ee scavemictes ooane coer 148 
 ISLE COP) COLE seenctacarteees Jas digavie seen es ebee eee 74 BALGOWNIE BRIG, NEAR ABERDEEN  ........:.cesceeesees 149 
 AOSANDY BAY, TIRBE sec sas <spscasesceascdeasiannee ceaeneen 75 ON THE DEE, FROM BALLATERS...ceccscorescnesnee-eceues +. 150 
 DRUID STONE, TIREZ ...... 6s Seis tineideawinciusashan dae Uepeeaetes 76 CAIRN-NA-QUHEEN, BALMORAL ,,.......00.0008 Be et eaeees pene 
 FISHER’S HUT, TIREE) Gene ones ee 77 NEARING ‘GLEN (SHEE. 2o.cescaigecetseonstvnqeueter Lagertetansee 153 
 TIREE FARMHOUSE... 77 GLENCSHES 2s. tess aeatersieeeetcenbe ate eek enone act Sass Pane ee 154 
 MULL, LOOKING SOUTH 78 ST. ANTHONY'S CHAPEL, EDINBURGH.........0c000ees0ee 155 
 AROS! (CASTLE, ISLE, OF) WUL Tew eae ye, cee teense see eee eae 79 CALTON HILL: FROM ROSEBANK ..icccosceccosscseces eer'e nt 57, 
 DUNOLLY CASTLE, OBAN... 80 A QUIET NOOK NEAR EDINBURGH ........csceseveeeeneees 158 
 MOUNTAINS vOF LORNE, Mi csu:a:csassecnceeeee ce eee 8r COTTAGE NEAR EDINBURGH, WITH PENTLAND HILLS 
 CORRIE AT GEENCOE. aira.ceens ae 82 DN THE DIST AN CH, scorsecestaceeastae onoweshedaag es = B50 
 WELL OF SEVEN HEADS ..........40c0000. 87. | PEEP OF EDINBURGH FROM THE NORTH-EAST 161 
 CALE DONIAN (CANAL. oo sstcsseveauaasaraacenent 88 A LITLTE BIT OF THE OLD TOWN OF EDINBURGH. 163 
 INVERNESS COTTAGES ..,....... 89 THE TAY ABOVE DUNDEE .. .._Head of Appendix 
 INVERGARRY CASTLE, LOCH OICH................ 90 NEAR BLAIRGOWRIE ......... weoves ff O08 Of ” 
 
THE BASS ROCK. 
 
 ART RAMBLES IN THE HIGHLANDS AND 
 ISCANDSaOPe SC © ier Nin 
 
 CHAP DER. 
 
 On the morning of Saturday, the 15th day of July, 1876, I drove to the 
 West Pier ot Leith, hoping to find the Stirling steamboat there. Her place 
 was vacant, and I learnt that she had sailed an hour and a half before, and 
 that the next, the one o’clock boat, could only reach Alloa that night because 
 of the tide. I had misunderstood the company’s time-bill, and was a week too 
 soon for the sailing I had read of in the advertisement. The morning was fine, 
 and all persons and places wore a glad aspect: sunshine lit up the cloudlets, 
 
 1 
 
 ‘ 
 
At Newhaven. 
 
 shimmered on the wavelets, sparkled on the windows of the house-lined shore, 
 and transformed even the “reek” of our famed “ Auld Reekie” into a feature 
 of beauty. Haze veiled the extreme distance, Granton basked in warm sun- 
 light, and the fishing village of Newhaven, with its houses, its pier, its boats, 
 and its rocks, was pleasant to look upon, while the seaward and the sunward 
 view was all aglow with exquisitely delicate passages of colour and tracings of 
 form, revealing in dreamy mystery the shores of Fife and the island of Inch- 
 keith. 
 
 I was ready for my ramble, having on my back a knapsack well charged 
 with stores for the soul, the mind, the brush, and the body, and carrying with 
 me a large sketching umbrella, a camp-stool, a waterproof case to hold a folio 
 
 for drawings, four- 
 teen inches by ten 
 
 inches in size, and 
 
 a small courier bag 
 
 for the colour-box, 
 
 a water-flask. I 
 
 need scarcely tell 
 any fellow-pilgrim 
 who, thus laden, 
 has tried a walking 
 tour in the High- 
 lands, that my 
 ee helps hindered me, 
 
 and that after the 
 
 first ramble I was glad to diminish my pack, retaining only the knapsack 
 
 (minus many items), such materials for sketching as my pockets could hold, 
 and in place of the umbrella ‘ Goliath,” a small friend which served also as a 
 staff. 
 
 To utilize the waitirg hours, I sought out a quiet nook on an undershelf of 
 the pier, and took a jotting, in colour, of Newhaven. For a time I enjoyed a 
 measure of seclusion; but towards noon there were many pleasure sailings 
 afloat, steamers came alongside, my guzet nook became a scene of bustle and 
 confusion, and made sketching no easy task. Many dozens of bottles of soda- 
 water and ginger-beer and other stores were shipped ; bells rang loud and long, 
 
 9 
 
 “& 
 
 a brush-case, and ~ 
 
 ian 
 
THE PORT OF LEITH. 
 
The Woods of Aberdour. 
 
 excursionists of every age hastened on board, a gangway was pulled ashore, 
 the hawser fell with a plash into the water, and the Aberdour party had started. 
 In half an hour they reached the Fife shore, and landing on the new pier, each 
 gathered to his own company and sought pleasure after his own liking. Some 
 joined the bathers at the “silver beach ;” yachters looked out for the “ Mary 
 Jane,” the “ Bertha,” or the “Star,” and were soon cruising at will over the 
 waters ; many took to the small boats and steered towards Inchcolm,* listened 
 to the boatman’s tale about “ Mortimer’s Deep,” where a company of monks 
 drowned the sailors who attempted to convey for interment in a barge the 
 remains of Mortimer, between the island and Aberdour; they explored the 
 ruins of the abbey founded by Alexander I., and were refreshed by a drink of 
 good new milk they got at the shepherd’s house ; others visited the picturesque 
 ruins of old Aberdour Castle. A few drouthy customers spent the afternoon 
 in the inn parlour; but the greater number climbed the brae that leads to the 
 woods at the east of the town, and when in the woods had rather a jubilant 
 time of it. ‘In the woods of Aberdour” vividly recalls picnicing parties 
 gathered under the overarching boughs of stately beech, the waters of the Firth 
 beyond, the melody of birds, rustling leafage, glints of sunlight falling on the 
 green sward, the merry laughter and the frisky playfulness of children, the 
 joyous sportive repartee of young men and maidens, and the glow of happiness 
 that, like the genial warmth and the bright tints of an Indian summer, gladdens 
 the older people. They forget about the grey hairs and the failing strength, 
 and are almost persuaded that the winter of age has left them, and that the 
 summer of youth has come back again. 
 
 Let us return to Leith Pier, where we find another boat advertised to visit 
 (weather permitting) the Bass Rock. 
 
 “Dread rock ! thy life is two eternities,— 
 The last in air, the former in the deep ; 
 First with the whales—last with the eagie skies: 
 
 Drowned wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep! 
 Another cannot bow thy giant size!” 
 
 I remember seeing the Bass to great advantage one evening as I sailed past 
 in asteamship going to London. Dark rain-clouds lowered overhead, and gave 
 an inky blackness to the sea, whose waves lashed themselves into foam at the 
 
 * Appendix. Note A. 
 
 ° 
 vw 
 
The Bass Rock. 
 
 ~— 
 
 base of the cliffs, noise-some myriads of sea-birds were on the wing ; they filled 
 the air, and in loud ecstacy drowned the voice of the wind with their wild 
 screaming. 
 
 “The air was dirkit with the fowlis, 
 That cam with yammeris and with yowlis, 
 With shrykking, screeking, skrymming, scowlis, 
 And meikle noyis and showtes.” 
 
 It seemed a gloomy rock, a cheerless isle, a melancholy home, a dreary 
 prison-house for those faithful men who were exiled for years there, and for 
 the most part confined to the dark, lonesome, and unwholesome dungeons, the 
 ruins of which are still to be seen. The isle looks doubly dark when we thus 
 link it with the miserable men who have used it as a place where they might 
 in deeds toward their fellows make manifest the evil of their own hearts. 
 Hugh Miller has given from one of his early diaries a few jottings he noted 
 down as he first viewed the island. ‘‘We are bearing up the Firth in gallant 
 style, within two miles of the shore, and shall in a few hours, if the breeze fail 
 not, be within sight of Edinburgh. Yonder is the Bass, rising like an immense 
 tower out of the sea. Times have changed since the excellent of the earth 
 were condemned by the unjust and the dissolute to wear out life on that solitary 
 rock, My eyes fill as I gaze on it! The persecutors have gone to their place: 
 the last vial has long since been poured out on the heads of the infatuated race 
 who, in their short-sighted policy, would fain have rendered men faithful to their 
 princes by making them untrue to their God. But the noble constancy of the 
 persecuted, the high fortitude of the martyr, still live ; there is a halo encircling 
 the brow of that rugged rock; and from many a solitary grave, and many a 
 lonely battle-field, there come voices and thunderings like those which issued 
 of old from within the cloud, that tell us how this world, with all its little 
 interests, must pass away, but that for those who fight the good fight and keep 
 the faith, there abideth a rest that is eternal.” 
 
 I cannot refrain from quoting what he further adds as he unfolds to us the 
 
 sermon of the Bass: “It is not uninstructive to remark, from facts and feelings 
 such as these 
 
 and the instances on record are very great,—how much more 
 permanently gvod connects itself with matter, in the associations of the human 
 mind, than evz?7. The wickedness of the wicked cannot so enfeoff itself, if one 
 may so speak, in even their contrivances of most diabolical design,—screws, and 
 boots, and thumbkins, dolorous dungeons, and scaffolds hung with the insignia 
 4 
 
Solan Geese. 
 
 of disgrace,—but that the virtues of their victims seize hold upon them, and so 
 entirely appropriate them in the recollection of future generations, that the 
 claim of the original possessors is lost. What a striking comment on the sacred 
 text, ‘The memory of the just is blessed; but the name of the wicked shall 
 rot’! It seems to throw a gleam of light, too, athwart a deeply mysterious 
 subject. It was a greatly worse time than the present in this country, when the 
 dungeons of yonder rock were crowded with the country’s most conscientious 
 men. And yet how intense the interest with which we look back upon these 
 times, and on the rock itself, as a sort of stepping-stone by which to ascend to 
 their scenes of ready sacrifice, firm endurance, and high resolve ; and how very 
 poor would not the national history become, were all its records of resembling 
 purport and character to be blotted out! ‘The evil of the past has served but 
 to enhance the good. May there not be a time coming when the just made 
 perfect shall look back upon ail ill, moral and physical, with a similar feeling ? 
 when the tree of the knowledge of good and ezz7 shall grow once more beside 
 the tree of life in the Paradise of God, but when its fruit, rendered wholesome 
 by the transmutative power, shall be the subject of no punitive prohibition ; 
 and when the world which we inhabit, wrapped round with holiest associations, 
 as once the dungeon-house and scaffold of a Divine Sufferer, shall be regarded 
 -—disreputable as we may now deem its annals—with reverence and respect, as 
 the uss of the universe, and its history be deemed perhaps the most precious 
 record in the archives of heaven?” 
 
 In favourable weather a day may be well spent visiting the island by a small 
 boat, which may be had of the keeper of the Bass at his house, Canty Bay near 
 Berwick, and “The Bass Rock”*—the book from which I quote the above 
 remarks of Hugh Miller, and those which follow in a different strain—will be 
 an agreeable companion. 
 
 We are quaintly told—“ the most ancient inhabitants of this island (the Bass) . 
 in all probability were the solan geese.” Mr. Darwin has doubtless found extra- 
 ordinary instances of rapid evolution in the remarks of early writers concerning 
 their development. Ina History of Scotland by Hector Boece, published in 
 1526, translated by Holinshed, we have a very particular account of “soland 
 geese,” and, read in the light of his after-remarks, it is not strange that he should 
 pave the way for the reception of his teaching with these words: “Certes! © 
 
 * Appendix. Note B. 
 5 
 
Evolution with a wzttness ! 
 
 there is nothing in this rocke that is not full of admiration and woonder !” 
 Maintaining that the procreation of the solan geese is not made upon trees, but 
 is engendered by the sea, he tells us: 
 
 ‘All trées cast into that element in processe of time become wormeaten, and 
 in the holes thereof are the said wormes to be found, though verie little and 
 small (in comparison to that they be afterward) to be perceiued at the first. In 
 the beginning these worms doo shew their heads and féet, and last of all their 
 plumes & wings. Finallie when they are come to the just measure and quan- 
 titie of géese, they flie in the aire as other foules doo. 
 
 “This was notablie prooued in the yeare of Grace 1490, in sight of many 
 people, beside the castell of Peslego, whether the bodie of a great trée was 
 brought by working of the sea. This trée being taken, it was carried to the 
 lord of the soile, who soone after caused it to be slit in sunder with a saw: 
 which being doone, it is incredible to see what a multitude of wormes came out 
 of their holes. Of these also some apeered as if they had béene but new 
 shapen: divers had head, foot, and wings, but no feathers, the rest were formed 
 into perfect foules. At last when the people had gazed thereon by the space 
 of an whole daie, they carried it to Saint Andrewes church beside Tire, where 
 the said blocke remains still tobe seene. Within two yeeres after there hapned 
 such another trée to come into the Firth of Tay beside Dundée, wormeaten 
 and full of yoong géese after the same manner: the third was séen in the hauen 
 of Leith beside Edinburgh: and also within a few yéeres, in like sort, a ship 
 named the Cristopher, after she had lien thrée yéeres at anchor in one of these 
 Iles, was broght to Leith, where bicause hir timber was found to be rotten, she 
 was taken in sunder, and in hir kéele were found infinite holes, as 1f they had 
 been eaten with wormes, or bored with a wimble, and each one of them filled 
 with such creatures as I have said before. 
 
 _ “Heéere if any man will alledge that the Cristopher was builded of such timber 
 onelie as grew in these Iles, and that all roots and trees there growing are of 
 such nature as in their corruption doo turne into these foules, I will disprooue 
 his assertion by one notable example showed before mine eles. Maister Alex- 
 ander Galloway, parson of Kinkell, was with vs in these Iles, and giuing his 
 mind with attentiue diligence to search out a full resolution with vs of these 
 obscure and hidden matters, it hapned on a time that he took vp a branch of 
 Alga, called in Scotish, seatangle, which hanged full of muskle shels from the 
 root euen to the verie top. Being also desirous to sée what was in them, he 
 
 6 
 
The Start. 
 
 grew to be more astonished than before: for when he opened one or two of 
 them, he saw no fish, but a foule perfectlie shapen, fullie answering to the 
 capacitie of the shell. E 
 
 ‘“Finallie, knowing that I was verie inquisitiue of these and the like rare 
 nouelties, he came hastilie with the said hearbe & shewed it vnto me, who found 
 no lesse by experience than I before reported. By tliese and many other 
 reasons & examples I cannot beleeue that these Claiks (or Barnacls as I call 
 them) are producted either by the qualities of the trées or the roots thereof, but 
 onelie by the nature of the sea, which is the verie cause and productrix of so 
 manie wonderfull creatures. Furthermore, bicause the rude & ignorant people 
 saw oftentimes the fruits that fell from trées, which stood neuer in the sea, con- 
 uerted within short time into géese, they beléeued that these géese grew vpon 
 trées, hanging by their nebs as apples and other fruit doo by their stalks, but 
 their opinion is vtterlie to be reiected. For so soone as these apples or fruit 
 fall from the trée into the sea, they grow first to be wormeaten, and in processe 
 of time to be conuerted into géese.” 
 
 Referring my reader to further gleanings concerning this interesting rock to 
 the Appendix,* I proceed to tell my own story. A few minutes before one 
 o'clock I formed a unit of the crowd that filled fore and aft decks and the bridge 
 of the “Lord Mar.” I unshouldered the knapsack, and placed “Goliath” in 
 a safe corner. Representatives from the workshop, the counter, the desk, the 
 school, and the drawing-room hastened on board—some only to have a sail, 
 and return with the boat in the afternoon—others to join “the family ” at sea- 
 side quarters ; lag-behinds arrived in breathless haste ; another and yet another 
 bell was rung; the captain was patient, and stayed some time after the sailing 
 hour. After the last runner jumped on board, we steamed slowly between the 
 long wooden piers out into the Firth, and I took a look back at the point from 
 which, sixty-five years before, my grandfather waved farewell to my father, then 
 a very young midshipman, starting for India on his first voyage. We soon left 
 in our wake the martello tower erected in war-times to protect the town, and 
 Inchkeith,t once used as a place of exile for those stricken with plague. In the 
 reign of James IV. two infants, under the care of a dumb woman, had this 
 strange home assigned them: thus isolated, it was hoped their mode of speech 
 would discover to the men of letters of that day the origin of language or the 
 
 * Appendix. Notes B and C. +t Appendix. Note D. 
 
 “J 
 
The Firth of Forth. 
 
 original language. It is reported that when the infants were of age, they spoke 
 good Hebrew. 
 
 We have a blue sky and sunshine overhead, and the peaceful sea reflects alike 
 the ethereal blue and the solar brightness. Does the holiday tourist, who sails 
 so sweetly over the gentle waves, imagine that our proud Firth is always tame? 
 —always reflecting sunshine and blue sky ?—always lulling to slumber or en- 
 ‘chanting with faéry pictures of pearly hues those who pay her court ?—ever 
 seeking the homage of fine-weather land-lubber seamen? I have gazed for 
 hours—ay, days—on her in her sweet slumberings, in her Sabbaths, in her 
 
 ——<—<——SSa SSS = - 
 
 INCHKEITH, 
 
 meditative moods, and when the freshening throbbings of her life were exqui- 
 sitely hushed and tender; but I have also seen her roused, and in mad fury 
 come with her million of foam-crested billows, and charge with the noise of 
 thunder the shore she is wont to lave so calmly. Those whose windows over- 
 look her bed know well how the spirit of the storm inspires her; and some- 
 times, too, she nurses in her bosom the spirit of the tempest, and 1s heedless 
 alike of the infant’s cry and the mother’s tears: she heeds not the promise her 
 stillness and her beauty gave to the trustful fishermen at sundown, as they 
 spread their sails and were wafted eastwards. In the darkness of such a mid- 
 night the wind wails mournfully, and sends an icy chill through the hearts of 
 the awe-stricken toilers of the deep, and each surging thud on the doomed 
 boat sounds as a knell of woe. Death is there !—’mid the seething waters, the 
 8 
 
Cramond. 
 
 moaning and the sighing of the winds—the straining, the filling, and the sinking 
 of the bark, and the clinging, the praying, and the anguish of the fated men 
 —he calmly claims his own: 
 
 ** All heavily rolled the surges, and swept o’er the fated ship, 
 While bosoms grew cold and si'ent, and mute was each pallid lip; 
 One cry of despair and anguish rose high o’er the roaring wave, 
 Then all was quenched by the ocean, and hid in a yawning grave, 
 Only one wail. Ah! God heard it, then all was over and still, 
 And the sea and the breezes thundered: it was the Almighty’s will.” 
 —Jessig M. Saxsy. 
 
 The “Lord Mar” paddled her way westward right merrily, leaving in her 
 wake a trail of cream-toned foam, while to the right and left of us we had a 
 variety of coast views and bits of seascape, enlivened with busy shipping. 
 Newhaven again attracted the eye, and brought to mind “child pictures” of 
 rare beauty, and many glimpses of the home-life of that hardy race; the place 
 and the people is as an unworked quarry of subjects for the brush, guided by 
 an appreciating eye and a poetic soul, from which only a few surface chippings 
 and one or two larger lumps have as yet been taken. I scanned anew our old 
 crouching lion (Arthur’s Seat), and the Calton Hill with its monumental 
 deckings. The castle graced well its queenly throne of time-stained rock ; 
 and as the eye wandered over fair Edina, my mind revelled in associations 
 soul-stirring and sacred. 
 
 Granton passed, we had a peep at Cramond, a humble seaboard village, 
 divided from the richly wooded grounds of Dalmeny by the Almond, a stream 
 whose course abounds in features of a picturesque character: steep banks, a 
 rocky bed, rich tracery of woods and weeds, old mills, weather-tinted bridges 
 of antique build, rustic cottages, and still, still pools. In winter or summer 
 this stream-scooped glen merits a visit. A good wetting and a thorough mud- 
 bespattering is not too high a price to pay for a treat so refreshing ; though an 
 English artist whom I led hither on a December day, when the frost of the 
 morning gave place to showers of rain and sleet, was so fully alive to the dis- 
 comforts by the way as to lose heart, and altogether failed to appreciate the 
 varied and beautiful scenes we passed; however, he had the satisfaction of 
 administering to me a pithy scolding on our way home for my ignorance re- 
 garding the characteristics of such trees as the “the Zoaks, the Zashes, and the 
 helms.” I attended the parish church of Cramond one Sabbath many. years 
 ago, when Queen ‘Victoria and her royal consort, the late Prince Albert, came 
 
 9 2 
 
Bo'ness. 
 
 to worship there, and have a vivid recollection of the peaceful joy in their faces 
 that seemed to echo back the gladness of the sun’s rays, which lighted on them 
 as they sat in the front gallery of the quaint kirk, and I doubt not that Sabbath 
 will remain a red letter day in the memories of the homely farmers and the 
 villagers of that country-side. 
 
 While we sailed up the Firth, I lived over again many hours and days plea- 
 santly rambled away on shore in bygone seasons, while my fellow-passengers 
 were either conversing or listening to Jacobite airs and songs of ‘ Scotland’s 
 hills,” and ‘‘Scotland’s vales,” and “Scotland’s bonny lassies,” sung with em- 
 phatic expression by our compagnon de voyage, a fiddler not unlike Neil Gow,* 
 the famed violinist and composer, as we know him from his portrait painted 
 by Sir Henry Raeburn. 
 
 To make up for so many digressions, permit my pen to jump at one leap 
 from Cramond to Bo’ness (Borrowstowness). There a large flat-bottomed boat 
 waited on the passing call of our ship. Bo’ness looked so invitingly old-fashioned, 
 that I was drawn to it, and jumped into the shore-bound boat in company 
 with a grey-clad baker returning from a pie-selling expedition with a pie-box of 
 prodigious size. One of our boat- 
 men was “ jolly fou,” and turned a 
 ridiculous backward somersault as he 
 was preparing to handle an oar. The 
 square, amply turretted, and many 
 quaint-windowed town house, with its 
 exalted clock-tower, kept guard over 
 the harbour, whose stony arms shel- 
 tered a number of ships of various 
 
 nationalities. Railway goods trucks 
 
 lined the piers ; many canvas-covered 
 stalls, for the sale of sweeties, ginger- 
 bread, fruits, and toys; a height-and- 
 SWEETIE STALL. weight stand, a strength-testing ap- 
 
 paratus, a shooting range, and like 
 
 attractions gave a fair-day look to the town : little children wandered from stall 
 to stall, all eyes and ears, but trade was very flat. It was the last of the annual 
 
 _* Appendix. Note E. 
 10 
 
Boness Well. 
 
 three days of holiday, and in the morning excursion boats sailed with the 
 majority of the Borrowstownessians to Leith, that they might spend the day 
 feeding the Edinburgh lions. I was glad to see a house of ancient build, with 
 lettered on its upper flat—TEmMPpERANCE Hotei. The accommodation was 
 limited, but as I was the only patron that day, it proved sufficient—though I 
 was warned, “If two gents come the way—and we’re half expecting them by 
 the evening train—ye ’ll need to seek a bed somewhere else.” In this homely 
 home I might in a short time have graduated as a well-primed temperance 
 lecturer, there was so much of the literature of that school on the side-table ; 
 and the public well, on which the front window looked out, spoke volumes on 
 Mr. J. B. Gough’s favourite text—“ Water zs best :” the “ Herald of Health” 
 
 advises— 
 
 “Use the plainest food, 
 Drink the pure cold water; 
 You will then keep well, 
 Or, at least, you oughter.” 
 
 The Bo'ness well-water was in great demand; women brought stoups, chil- 
 dren pitchers and jugs, well-tanned lads came from their ships with strong pails 
 of Dutchland make. We have a saying in Scotland, the last verse of which has 
 done not a little to drive many housewives to the washing-tubs early in the 
 
 week ; it affirms that, 
 “They that wash on Friday, 
 Ha’e gey meikle need; 
 They that wash on Saturday, 
 Are dirty daws indeed.” 
 
 Might not a similar rhyme be helpful to insure a regular supply of water in 
 some homes? I believe a pretty accurate estimate of a people could be gained 
 from noticing their comings and goings at the well, and jottings in pen 
 and pencil noted there would be something unique in portraiture. Sir David 
 Wilkie used every such opportunity in his earnest study of human nature; the 
 famed caricaturist ‘‘Geekie” was still more bold, and had often to fly from his 
 enraged and unwilling patients; and at least one of his most telling sketches 
 was taken from a stair-window, as the wrathful. subject waited outside to pre- 
 vent his escape and to give him a good thrashing. 
 
 The main street had many windings, and ups and downs. It had evidently 
 been built without a plan, each builder seeking a good foundation and the 
 otherwise most convenient spot for his own particular interests. Some of the 
 
 Vit 22 
 
Boness Fexcurstonists. 
 
 shops were meagrely lighted: one had for illumination the faint rays ofa farthing 
 candle. 
 
 At sundown the steamers brought back the excursionists: their wives, mothers, 
 and little ones waited them on the piers and greeted them with cheers. The 
 musical band led the procession to the town house, opposite which they stood, 
 played the National Anthem, and separated. A man came to me with a 
 mournful tale: his wife had locked him out of his very own house and home 
 all Friday night for getting “ fou,” and he was left to lie on the cold stones out- 
 side; this night he eagerly courted a like fate by drinking all he could beg or 
 borrow. 
 
 The shops closed, the fair merchants dismantled their stalls, the “ Barley 
 Bree” songs were silenced in the inn when Forbes Mackenzie’s dread hour of 
 eleven struck, and soon a midnight stillness reigned, and in Blanket Bay I slept 
 cozily and soundly. 
 
 EXCURSIONISTS RETURNING, 
 
 12 
 
WILD ROSE. 
 
 CHAPTER “If, 
 
 ** With silent awe I hail the sacred morn, 
 That slowly wakes while all the fields are still ; 
 A soothing calm on eyery breeze is borne, 
 A graver murmur gurgles from the rill, 
 And echo answers softer from the hill, 
 And softer sings the linnet from the thorn; 
 ‘The skylark warbles in a tone less shrill. 
 
 ** Hail, light serene! hail, sacred Sabbath morn ! 
 The rooks float silently in airy droves ; 
 The sun a placid yellow lustre throws ; 
 The gales, that lately sighed along the groves, 
 Have hushed their downy wings in dead repose ; 
 The hovering rack of clouds forgets to move ;— 
 So smiled the day when the first morn arose.” 
 
 ’ —LEYDEN. 
 
 AND so smiled the day when, after a refreshing sleep, I arose and looked out 
 on the town that yesterday held holiday. A Sabbath stillness and a Sabbath 
 sun alike attuned my heart to praise the Giver of countless blessings. \ My 
 landlord told me he was in the habit of walking to Linlithgow to worship—a 
 distance of fully four miles—and had done so with those members of his family 
 able for this exercise for about twenty years. He was an elder of a Congrega- 
 tional church there: that body have no place of meeting in Bo’ness, even in 
 Linlithgow it is but weak, and he esteemed it right to keep to the cause while 
 the cause held together. There was a good ring about the man, and he 
 cordially agreed to let me accompany him. | 
 
 The sun’s rays were meltingly strong, and I was grateful to have a share of 
 my friend’s umbrella (Goliath might have made an unseemly sensation, had 
 I taken Aim out for a Sabbath airing) to ward them off. We had communion 
 
 13 
 
A Sabbath Walk. 
 
 ROAD SCENE, 
 
 one with another by the way, walking slowly, and now and again we halted to 
 drink in a breath of fresh air, and to admire as much of the shores of Forth 
 and its calm waters as the misty veil chose to reveal: the nearer land was 
 beauteously decked with the fresh tints of fields fast ripening, and the varied 
 emerald tones of the green or root crops; the grasses by the roadside and the 
 wayside wild flowers were in their midsummer glory. 
 “* And with childlike, credulous affection, 
 We beheld their tender buds expand, 
 
 Emblems of our own great resurrection— 
 Emblems of the bright and better land.” 
 
 The hedges were in full leafage, the trees clothed with luxurious verdure : 
 now and again we passed collier villages, which consisted of long rows of one- 
 14 
 
Linkthgow. 
 
 storied houses built ew masse, and quite devoid of beauty. The older villages 
 were roofed with tile, those of more recent date with slate, and not far distant 
 we could see the stalks and above-ground works connected with the mines. 
 
 On reaching the small chapel, I found those who were gathered few in 
 number, but they seemed to know the joy of living and loving as brethren. 
 The preacher, with his silver locks and well-knit figure, might have made a 
 good Covenanter. He spoke with emphasis, as from a firm conviction that it 
 was truth, tried and precious truth, he uttered. Many years of his ministerial 
 life were spent in a lonesome part of the main isle of the Shetland group, and 
 now at eventide he tended an attached though “little flock.” After the 
 sermon, the cup was taken and bread broken, and I was welcomed to a place 
 at the sacred table, where we partook of the symbols of our Saviour’s broken 
 body and shed blood. There was an interval after this service and before the 
 second sermon, and in the vestry we had a repast of wine biscuits, clear spring- 
 water, and the sweetest of new milk. 
 
 My friend took me for a short stroll by the ruins of Linlithgow Palace, and 
 as we sat on the grass, having lungs and mind alike refreshed and renewed, we 
 looked over the far-stretching landscape of hill and mead and wood, and down 
 upon the rippling ever-changeful lake. We lay near the deep shades that were 
 cast on the sloping hill by the massive age-marked walls of the royal pile. 
 Reeds grew on the margin and waved gracefully before the zephyr breeze. 
 Willows that bent their pliant boughs over the water, spoke to us of sad scenes 
 enacted in more troublous times, and swans glided to and fro with royal 
 dignity and elegance of motion. I am told two rival families of them have 
 sway on the lake, each holding tenaciously to and fighting desperately for his 
 fishing-ground and seat of empire. Woe to the poor swan who, unprotected 
 by his fellows, is unguarded enough to cross the border! 
 
 A smart walk home, a tea-dinner, a few hours in company with congenial 
 book companions, a little restful prayerful musing, and the day had closed. 
 
 “Ts there a time when moments flow 
 More lovelily than all beside? 
 It is, of all the times below, 
 A Sabbath eve in summer-tide. 
 
 Yet will there dawn at last a day, 
 A sun that never sets shall rise ; 
 Night will not veil the ceaseless ray, — 
 
 The heavenly Sabbath never dies !” 
 —EDMISTON. 
 
 15 
 
Air-Baths. 
 
 With Monday morning I resumed care of my knapsack, and had quite a race 
 to catch the boat that left the pier-head for the steamer. On board the “ Lord 
 Mar” again, we were soon cutting our way westward and Stirling-ward, where 
 there lay, still under the mist-clouds, the lovely Vale of Forth and the moun- 
 tains that enshrine it; a fresh thrill of life came on the sea-borne breeze, and 
 gave hope that all would be enjoyed to the full. Reader, do you know the 
 exhilarating influence of such an air-bath ?—at the time when the ocean has 
 exchanged the restless heavings of a troubled sleep for the joyous throbbings 
 of sunlit life; when the shore and far-stretching land has thrown from all its 
 vales and hills and deep ravines the sable night-cloak, and glancing upwards, 
 smiles beneath moist wreaths of snowy white? Surely, it is a joy to breathe, 
 as the sea-breeze woos the mountain land and ten thousand wavelets kiss the 
 shore ; when, too, the hills shed dazzling joy-tears, and send them seaward by 
 runlet, stream, and flowing river, till their lives are blended into one life of 
 perfect harmony and mutual ministration! It is truly delicious in a midsummer 
 morning to be on board a yacht, cruising among our western or northern isles. 
 The air searches through your tweeds, and seems, as it showers over you the 
 truest elixir of health, to say, “A glad good morning /” to every pore of your 
 body. Dr. Benjamin Franklin had great faith in air as a tonic, and prescribes 
 an azy-bath,* which I give in my Appendix; he believes himself to have received 
 benefit from adopting it. I know of a talented minister of the Established 
 Church, lately located in Shetland, who believed in ofen-air baths ; he roamed 
 at large in his birthday costume on the grassy tops of the cliffs that girded his 
 parish, to the great bewilderment of his new parishioners. 
 
 We passed on our right Culross—of old a place of monastic power, but also 
 famed for “girdles.” Its people long enjoyed the exclusive right of making 
 iron girdles for firing scones and oaten cakes in the days when home-baked 
 bread was the food of the country. On the left we saw Grangemouth—a port 
 busy with the transhipment of goods from sailing and steamships to the trans- 
 port barges of the Forth and Clyde Canal. After leaving Kincardine on 
 the north shore, we were soon alongside of Alloa landing-stage or wharf—not 
 the place whose name sounds so similarly of which Burns speaks in “Tam 
 O’Shanter” : 
 
 “She prophesied that, late or soon, Or catched wi’ warlocks in the mirk, 
 Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon, By Alloway’s auld haunted kirk,”— 
 
 * Appendix. Note F. 
 16 
 
Dumyat. 
 
 but the Alloa of yarn and ale repute. Would that the ale was as tame as the 
 yarn, as full of comfort and as free from vice; that it carried fewer of the heart- 
 aches, headaches, empty stomachs, and other sadder ills in its wake! Much 
 of the yarn makes snug homes, laughing wives, and rosy bairns—much of the 
 ale leaves “ drunkards’ wains,” a dark present and a still darker future. 
 
 At Alloa we changed many of our passengers and much of our cargo. The 
 sail up the river brought to the eye new landscape objects: outspreading trees, 
 tall reeds, and rank weeds; fields, haystacks, and farm homesteads. The grass 
 
 DUMYAT. 
 
 looked its greenest and had a fresh sheen of sunlight sparkling on its sunward 
 side ; sapling willows waved.and bended and shook playfully their leaves over 
 the running water; the Ochil range raised its mountain wall, and Dumyat 
 seemed a stern king, despite the glowing sunlight that coursed over his rugged 
 features, as it chased and counterchased the deep cloud-shades ; but though 
 stern, he is paternal, and shields the plain from many an adverse blast, and 
 also nurtures by pulling to him the big rain-clouds, and scattering their liquid 
 treasure on his own bare head, and on all within the bounds of his protectorate. 
 Every winding of Forth opened out new combinations of river-course, and tree, 
 and wooded hill. We had many fine peeps of Abbey Craig and Stirling Castle, 
 17 3 
 
The River Forth. 
 
 and a few minutes before landing, we sailed close to the ruins of the ancient 
 
 abbey of Cambuskenneth, founded by David I. in 1147. 
 
 Robert Ferguson, 
 
 one of our native poets of true genius—of whose gifts and short sad life Burns* 
 
 writes—has written sweetly of Forth in his ode, “The Rivers of Scotland”: 
 “*O’er Scotia’s parched land the Naiads flew, And oft unbind their tresses green, 
 From towering hills explored her sheltered vale;, To bathe them in the fluid tide. 
 Caused Forth in wild meanders please the view, Then to the shady grottoes would retire, 
 And lift her waters to the zephyr’s gales. And sweetly echo to the warbling choir :— 
 Where the glad swain surveys his fertile fields, 
 And reaps the plenty which his harvest yields— Or to the rushing waters tune their shells, 
 To call up Echo from the woods, 
 Here did these lovely nymphs, unseen, Or from the rocks or crystal floods, 
 Oft wander by the river’s side, Or from surrounding banks, or hills, or dells.” 
 
 Not being altogether a stranger to Stirling, I lost no time seeking a home, 
 but made direct for the hotel where I was wont to stay; and, fortified by a 
 
 THE RIVER FORTH. 
 
 lunch, I took the 
 road that leads to 
 Causeway Head, to 
 renew acquaintance 
 with my old familiar 
 friend, Abbey Craig, 
 now doubly endear: 
 ed through having 
 on its summit a mas- 
 sive stone and lime 
 memorial of Sir. 
 William Wallace. 
 
 I must not venture 
 to speak now of that 
 hero, lest I be car- 
 ried away by my 
 
 theme ; and though we are rather fond in Scotland of being called by our 
 maiden patronymic, we are right well pleased with the late years of our married 
 life, and have reason for thankfulness that as God made our island one home, 
 we are likewise one people, with our hearts and our honour alike one. Yet I 
 have deemed it of interest to place in my Appendix a rough harsh daub t of 
 
 * Appendix. Note G. + Appendix. Note H. 
 
 18 
 
||! IN 
 
 iy i 
 
 if 
 Nl 
 
 Hil i 
 
 l 
 \\ 
 I 
 
 i} " a 
 
 Nt I mn Ny AN 
 
 \ | il | i ANE i 
 
 ANN 
 
 STIRLING CASTLE, FROM RAPLOCH. 
 
Abbey Craig: 
 
 Sir William by no friendly pen, and an exquisitely finished delineation of the 
 whole man,* in which if our hero had a wart, like the great Oliver Cromwell, 
 the same is carefully kept out of the picture, or the face turned in a direction 
 that would hide its unseemliness. I got into a field near to the railway em- 
 bankment and overlooking one of the windings of Forth, and there sketched 
 the Craig, the monument, the meadow-land, the river, and the trees that over- 
 hang part of its banks. Very many juvenile excursionists crowded. the road 
 between Stirling and Causeway Head. Abbey Craig is easy of ascent, and I 
 enjoyed again the view from that vantage-point, being enabled by the winding 
 steps that lead to the top of the 
 monument to rise fully two hundred 
 feet higher than on my last visit. 
 The fertile Vale of Forth lay at our 
 feet, bearing on its beauteous plain 
 well-watered fields, rich with wheat, 
 
 oats, barley, meadow- grass, beans, 
 and green crops. The farm home- 
 steads were comfortable and well 
 
 stored; hinds’ houses came in plea- 
 santly among the hedgerows. ‘The 
 strangely tortuous windings of Forth 
 reflected the light of the sky as the 
 sun darted stray beams through fast- 
 gathering clouds. At the foot ofa 
 richly wooded hill nestles Bridge of 
 Allan, composed of two elongated 
 clusters of handsome villas; beyond 
 
 was more wooded country, and farther 
 
 ABBEY CRAIG, 
 
 still hill and mountain-top fade into 
 the clouds. Looking towards Dum- 
 yat, under the shadow of that outpost of the Ochil range, is the charming 
 estate of Airthrey, its semicircular castle, finely arranged woods, and its wind- 
 ing lake, which when the ice bears has been the scene of well-fought curling 
 matches and pleasant skating rounds. Glad day for the Loggie schoolboy 
 
 “Appendix. Note I. 
 re) 
 
Schoolboy Days. 
 
 when he is told “‘Airthrey Pond is bearing; the grounds are open, a match is 
 to be played ;” and “ Boys, you can go and spend the day on the ice!” The 
 sliding and snowballing is all the sweeter that he is invited to a share of the reek- 
 ing hot potatoes and beef served to the gentry on the ice to keep hunger away. 
 
 The eastward view is also of interest, but I turn my eyes to the few cottage 
 homes that compose the village of Causeway Head, and single out the one on 
 the brae-head where I was boarded for three months when twelve years old. 
 Will my reader bear with me while I recall a few impressions of those days? 
 I will give them simply as they come, without adornment or arrangement. 
 
 A cottage home fronting the road that leads along the base of the Ochils, 
 whose back windows looked into a garden of apple-trees, berry-bushes, flowers 
 and vegetables, out over a few thatched roofs; a well, where I am told I was 
 nearly drowned for misdemeanour by an angry nurse when I was an infant in 
 arms; over-the village smithy and the inn, and beyond the fields, and tree 
 rows, and hedges of a section of Fortha’s Vale to the castle-crowned rock of 
 Stirling, and its ancient town climbing up like a beleaguering army the slope 
 of the hill. A kind-hearted mother with a braid Scotch Lowland tongue; a 
 hard-working strong-minded daughter ; a studious son of independent spirit ; 
 a father ageing and failing in strength. He had charge of Abbey Craig, lopped 
 the hedges, pruned the treelets, repaired the walks and the stone dykes, and 
 kept a sharp look-out for poachers: he was generally seen with his hedge- 
 lopping weapon; it somewhat resembled a bayonet mounted on a stout stick. 
 If the lads and old folks that came over Gillies’ Hill at the critical time in the 
 Battle of Bannockburn were armed afcer the same fashion, Edward’s force 
 might with some reason have feared them. . 
 
 I was sent to Loggie School with the young villagers, and soon made good 
 progress in the art of smoking dacky out of a cutly pipe. Our teacher was a 
 genial man: before an inspector’s visit we were taught to bawl loud out. We 
 worked now and again in his garden in the play-hour, and were rewarded with 
 presents of fruit ; he also, to stimulate us in our arithmetic studies, gave apple 
 prizes: a good share fell to my lot, and this brought me many threatening 
 messages scribbled on odd slips of paper from the older lads, warning me if I 
 would not pay d/ack maz?, all would be taken from me when the school scaded. 
 This led me to the defensive measure of sharing the spoil with my own 
 particular friends inside school. Every Sabbath morning found me lying on 
 the top of Abbey Craig, gazing admiringly seaward, towards Stirling, or away 
 
 20 
 
Sterling. 
 
 to the mountain and lake land of the west. I loved alike the grey and the 
 sunny morn. Would that from those dreamy days of boyhood I had increas- 
 ingly paid court to our native landscape, and sought to have my soul drink 
 deeper of its heaven-born charms! 
 
 An hour before noon the old folks took me to the auld kirk of Loggie, away 
 in a shady lane, near to the ivy-tangled ruins of a very ancient place of worship. 
 I cannot tell you one word of any of the sermons I then heard; but, despite 
 the twenty-one years that intervene between this and then, I could give evidence 
 before a law court that the minister was a good-natured comfortable-looking 
 man, and had a beautiful daughter, with rosy cheeks and sunny smile. How 
 is this latter imprinted so firmly? Was it a passion kindred to that which drew 
 me to Abbey Craig, or the dawnings of emotions still more tender? In the 
 absence of any definite evidence, it may be allowable to assume that the former 
 is the correct solution, and that artists have a special licence to admire beauty. 
 A certain other recollection is retained with considerable vividness: big girls 
 used to chase small boys, and sometimes succeed in catching them, and then 
 subject them to a good many rounds of hearty kisses. Does this page meet 
 the eye of any who mourn having been guilty in girlish days of such sad _per- 
 secution of little boys? Look not so seriously at the matter: to the lads the 
 retrospect will not be a very sad one; and some of the young rascals are so 
 very artful as to say, and even struggle, “no,” when they would rather “yes.” 
 
 A walk home in the gloamin’ by a path that crossed the Forth at a ford having 
 a line of bulky stepping-stones leading between the banks, a talk with hotel 
 companions, and a restful slumber, blend into the link that joins the looking 
 from the top of Abbey Craig and Tuesday morning’s walk. 
 
 Those who wish to know about Bannockburn, the royal occupations of 
 Stirling Castle, and many deeply interesting historical incidents wherewith it is 
 associated, I commend to consult Black’s “ Picturesque Guide to Scotland ”— 
 the pedestrian’s copy is most convenient. The park, whither I chanced to stray, 
 was enlivened by a regiment of Highland soldiers, dressed in tartan trousers and 
 white jackets, and we were cheered with the inspiriting strains of the bagpipes, 
 played right royally by stalwart lads in drazw claes (handsomely dressed) ; they 
 had kilt and ample plaid, and long streamers of ribbon flowing from the pipes. 
 The green stone trap of the rock cliff whereon the castle is built, the hill-sidé, 
 large boulders, clinging ivy, and full-leafed trees were fresh in colour; for a 
 drizzling rain, which had lasted all morning, was just clearing away. A stroll 
 
 21 
 
A Shetlander. 
 
 by the braes brought me to a steep ridge of earth, and, scrambling down the 
 ridge, was rewarded not only by scratchings of bramble-thorn, but by the seeing 
 of posies of wild flowers in places where no artist could have placed them with 
 equal effect. We had a profusion of heather-bell and the common hip rose, 
 and many tiny plants I know well by sight, though not by name. | 
 
 At the brae-foot was the little village of Raploch, which boasted an inn, but, 
 like too many of our wayside inns, its whole trade was in the sale of drinks ; 
 and the writer, though a dona fide traveller, could not persuade the hostess 
 even to make acup of tea. But a humble cottage having in the window a few, 
 groceries, and a ticket with ‘‘Ginger-beer Sold” on it, proved a place of refresh- 
 ment; and while the cheerful housewife made ready a meal, I got a spot from 
 which to sketch “ Stirling Castle from the Raploch.” In the cottage, with little 
 Teenie, a dear wee lassie, looking very hard at me, who fain would speak and 
 come to me, but was too bashful, as most 
 of the Scotch bairns are, and the good- 
 wife busy with her seam, the cup of tea, 
 home-baked bread, and country cheese, 
 all nicely set out, proved a pleasing re- 
 past. She would not be persuaded to 
 take more than sixpence as payment. 
 On parting, her attention was directed 
 to a little yellow flower in my hand; and 
 her interest was very manifest in her 
 brightening expression, when I told her 
 I had often admired this same little 
 flower among the Shetland moors: she 
 
 was a Shetlander. Her firm refusal to 
 receive more than she esteemed a just 
 charge brought back to mind the words - 
 of a daughter of Thule, as she com- 
 
 TEENIE. 
 
 mended to me a boatman to ferry me over from Bressay to the Isle of Noss 
 —-“He’s a Shetlander, and nane o’ thae Scotch bodies.” It is refreshing. in 
 days when gain seems to rank so high in the estimation of the multitude to 
 meet with those who have a noble spirit, and who only prize the earnings that 
 come into the pocket with the full approval of conscience. I believe the poor- 
 tax has had a most baneful influence in sucking out of many in our country 
 
 29, 
 
 < 
 
Old Andrew. 
 
 the independence of nature we are wont to esteem our birthright, and shutting 
 the hearts of givers into the cold hard groove of a miserable statute allowance. 
 
 After a climb up the sloping tree-shaded side of the castle hill, the cemetery 
 was reached, and prominent among memorials of the dead were statues of 
 John Knox, Alexander Henderson, and Andrew Melville, the Reformers, and 
 of the martyr, James Renwick ; also a very lovely piece of sculpture in marble 
 in memory of the “ Virgin Martyrs,” one of whom departed to be with Jesus, 
 as the tide of Solway sped her heavenward flight. The statue is in memory of 
 Margaret Wilson: it shows herself, a maiden of eighteen years, and her little 
 sister, thirteen years of age (and alike condemned, but whose life was purchased 
 by the father, for one hundred pounds sterling, his all), reading the Word of 
 God. A little lamb is lying at their feet, and an angel with a flower in hand 
 bends over them as if just about to deliver a message. These girls were guilty 
 of going to hear the Word of God preached; and the aged woman, Margaret 
 Maclauchlin—martyred along with Margaret Wilson 
 act of worshipping God with her family. 
 
 had been caught in the 
 
 Old Andrew, the keeper of the grounds, was true to his charge, and noted 
 eagerly the movements of three young men who had just inquired of a passer- 
 by concerning the paths. 
 
 “ Three prigs,” spurted out Andrew, handing me his snuff-box by way of in- 
 troduction. “I ken them! I was watching them: fine they ken a’ the roads. 
 I ken folk what kin they are wi’ watchin’ them. I’m the seacond auldest man 
 in Stirlin’, an’ as supple as ony; I could rin wi’ the supplest o’ the young anes. 
 I’m aichty-seeven ’ears,” winking and tossing his head knowingly at intervals. 
 “T°ve been saxty ’ears in Stirlin’.” 
 
 I opened my note-book and pointed toa jotting I had taken of a tombstone, 
 with the following inscription : 
 
 1809. 
 ALEX®: E. MEFFEN, 
 CHIEF CONSTABLE, STIRLINGSHIRE. 
 
 OUR. LIFE.1IS.BUT.A.WINTER. DAY. 
 SOME. ONLY. BREAKFAST. AND. AWAY. 
 OTHERS. TO. DINNER. STAY. 
 AND.ARE. FULL. FED: 
 
 THE, OLDEST. MAN. BUT.SUPS: 
 AND.GOES.TO. BED: 
 
 LARGE .IS.HIS.DEPT: 
 
 THAT .LINGERS. OUT. THE. DAY. 
 HE. THAT. GOES . SOONEST 
 HAS. THE.LEAST. TO. PAY: 
 
 23 
 
The Road to Doune. 
 
 He was very wroth. 
 
 “‘Meffen? No! Miller’s the name. The stane was selt by’e Kirk Session. 
 Meffen bocht it, scrappet oot Miller, and putt his ain name on.” 
 
 And from the testimony of the stone itself, it was evident a part of iv had 
 been lowered to get rid of some previous cuttings. 
 
 Lines very similar to the above, one century earlier in date, are in Croyland 
 Church, where it is stated— 
 
 BENEATH THIS PLACE IN 6 FOOT IN LENGTH AGAINST Y® CLARKS PEW 
 LYETH THE BODY OF, 
 MR. A BM. BUA :BY: 
 Atso y® sopy or MARY uis Wip. 
 SHE DYED Y® 21st May, 1705. 
 ALso 2 CHILDREN OF ye SAID ABM. AND Mary, WHICH DYED IN THEIR ENFANTRY, 
 
 Man’s life is like untoe a winter’s daye, 
 Some brake their faste and so depart a 
 Others sta dinner—then depart full fed. 
 The longest age but supps and goes to bed. 
 O reader, then behold and see 
 As we are now so must ye be. 
 
 1706. 
 
 Miller versus Meffen disposed of, Andrew changed his theme. 
 
 “T’m a wonderfu’ man! I ken what naither Wabster, Jamieson, or Johnson 
 ken. I ken words wi’ a’ their lear they ha nae in their dictioners;” and he 
 gave me many words I could make little of. 
 
 A mysterious-looking man with careworn face, long black hair, and clothes 
 that had seen much service, came up to Andrew to read to him his latest poems, 
 “Departed Royal Grandeur of Stirling,” and ‘‘The Misfortunes of a Tramp, 
 who sought board and lodging, his only wealth a one-shilling piece.” 
 
 After shaking hands with old Andrew, a smart walk by the venerable church 
 of Gray Friars, down the steep streets of this town, busy with militiamen and 
 their friends, brought the day’s ramble to a close. The next found me at ten 
 in the morning on the top of the Bridge of Allan tramway car, my destination 
 Callander. The walk between Bridge of Allan and Doune was filled with 
 pleasure nourished by bright sunshine, balmy air, and healthful exercise. The 
 shelter of the oak-trees was grateful, and by the roadside the wild flowers and 
 the ferns and grasses looked their loveliest, and revelled in the sunny beams 
 and the balmy breeze that wafted their fragrance over the fields; by the hedges 
 were many sweet-smelling bushes of the briar rose and the common hip rose, 
 some white, some exquisitely shaded with pink: out in the open air in the 
 
 24 
 
——— 
 
 SA 
 —— 
 
 eee 
 seta 
 
 \\ 
 i ON 
 ni N { 
 
 Mi 
 
 =~ 
 
 aes 
 
 TE pnts 
 
 AZ, 
 1 Ns 
 
 We 
 
 BRAES OF DOUNE, 
 
A Travelling Sweep. 
 
 sunshine, relieved against the green of its own branches, this wild hip rose has 
 few equals for beauty of colour. Near to Doune, not far from a fine avenue 
 of beech-trees, among the roadside grasses, lay a family group, the father black 
 with soot, the mother and three 
 very young children huddled 
 close beside her: these were 
 sleeping ; other three children 
 were wide awake, and came to 
 ask a penny from me to buy 
 some bread. I pointed to two 
 large white scones lying on the 
 ground. 
 
 “We darna touch them till 
 faither waakens,” I was told; 
 and so they gained their point. 
 
 He was a travelling sweep, 
 and most likely had done a 
 good morning’s work at one of 
 
 the farms near by. A quarter ee 
 
 of an hour after, as I looked 
 
 out of the parlour of an inn, I saw my young friends mixing an effervescing 
 drink, and dividing to each a share at the public well, and got the accompany- 
 ing jotting of them while the youngest hopeful was with all his little strength 
 trying to work the pump-handle. 
 
 While sketching Doune Castle, other children bore me company; a pair of 
 very little ones made themselves quite at home, and while the pencil was busy 
 with the noble ruin, the wee bodies prattled, and I had to answer a great many 
 questions. A lot of bigger girls came on the scene, and were most eager to be 
 sketched, and had any number of tales to tell of artists who had painted - 
 Doune girls, and “selt them for a great heap 0’ money :” one bright-eyed lass, 
 Ellen Lamb, sat on steadily; I took a little sketch of her—the others were 
 ' very full of nonsense. The sun was shining, and brightened the time-stained 
 walls a little: now and again a woman came out of a tasteful modern cottage, 
 gay with flowers and creepers, and having cottage windows, with the castle 
 keys to show visitors the interior of the castle. The view of Doune Castle 
 most generally chosen for pictorial representation is that which displays to the 
 
 25 4 
 
' Callander. 
 
 greatest advantage its commanding and graceful position on the left bank of 
 the Teith, at the influx of Ardoch Water. It is a massive pile, square, with 
 walls ten feet in thickness, and a tower at the north-east corner eighty feet 
 
 ELLEN LAMB, 
 
 high, and under this ancient stronghold are dreary dungeons of the most 
 dismal character. 
 
 Sufficiently tired to enjoy a rest, I inquired as to the whereabouts of the 
 railway station, and the first train carried me speedily to Callander, in company 
 with some young men whose exteriors were got up, regardless of expense, in 
 full Highland costume, while their heads were dizzy and their conversation 
 foolish through too thorough a priming with a spirit of artificial distillation. 
 Their fine-bred dogs merited the highest commendation for gentlemanly bear- 
 ing, and I doubt not their masters, away from the drink, would be agreeable 
 company. At Callander there is accommodation for the many: there are the 
 famed “ Dreadnought” and “ McGregor’s” Hotels, and almost every house in 
 the village has apartments for lodgers. After a tea-dinner I left the village, 
 and took a path that would have led me to Bracklinn Falls had I not become 
 so enamoured of and absorbed with bits of hill-side under the mellowing twi- 
 light, that I had wandered very far up the path by the mountain-side, into the 
 glen, before I remembered to look for the little side-path that leads into the 
 hollow where that famed fall has its rocky bower. There were few to disturb 
 the seclusion of this glen,—only a shepherd lad and his collie, a matron and 
 
 26 
 
Braes of Doune. 
 
 nn 
 
 DOUNE CASTLE, 
 
 her two children, and a middle-aged couple who trod the ground as if each step 
 were sacred to them: mayhap in childhood they had wandered over these same 
 braes together, pulling the heather-bell and chasing the butterflies. The scene 
 was replete with associations, and it was no hard task to people anew each 
 knoll with men of. mighty prowess, and revel in the creations of Ossian. The 
 sketch, “‘ Braes of Doune, near Callander,” gives but a faint idea of the scene. 
 Let imagination intensify it a thousandfold if you would enter into full sym- 
 pathy with those who inhabit its few lonesome hamlets during the winter snows 
 and the autumn floods, now and again listening to the fierceness of the howl- 
 ing storm, and looking out with waesome hearts on what seems a very chaos 
 of utter desolation. I saw it in a placid mood; the slowly deepening shades 
 fell sweetly over the scene, and every receding distance, every streamlet, and 
 each rocky crag and patch of fern or heath, was a tributary runlet to the river 
 of joyous emotions that gladdened me. ‘Then there was the deep glade where 
 the waters gathered from the mountain leagues of the mighty Benvoirlich and 
 Uam-Var wend their way almost voiceless to Bracklinn, there, in among, and 
 over the rocks, to leap wild leaps and speak in weirdest tones. ‘Turning home- 
 27 
 
Ben Led. 
 
 wards, away from the darkening shades and veiling mists that mantled the 
 inner reaches of the glen, we had a view of Venachar, a lake of silver sheen set 
 amid purply hills circling round in sweet accord, with gentle flow of line and 
 melting shades, as distance into distance blended, while overhead the ciouds 
 of ever-darkening grey seemed sailing into night. The near hill-side was full 
 of fresh colour, robed in a beauteous variety of heath and fern and lichen- 
 tinted rock and moss and grass. And soon Callander’s one street was the path 
 trod, and, like tired nature, I too sought rest. 
 
 A breath of the morning air, inhaled by a rural leafy road to the east of the 
 village, proved an excellent tonic, and was followed by a leisurely forenoon 
 walk to the Trosachs. I could not leave Callander without stopping by the 
 roadside to sketch in colour the old bridge that crosses the Forth, and when 
 thus engaged I saw very many of the fair birds of passage who come to bask in 
 the sunshine. The gay clothes some wore had almost made me add, “and 
 gather honey all the day from every opening flower.” Doubtless, in ninety- 
 nine cases out of a hundred, they go back to the city healthier and happier. 
 I saw several brethren of the brush: one had quite a large picture painting in 
 the thoroughfare ; it consisted principally of wild flowers, among which were 
 a group of queen of the meadow and a fine cluster of bluebells amid a network 
 of meadow vetching. The pedestrian is again constrained to linger when he 
 reaches the bridge over the Lennie Water, and let the eye wander up the 
 stream, among the ample leafage of the trees, and away upward among the 
 shelving heights of Ben Ledi, called in Gaelic the “ Hill of the Deity,” where, 
 we are told, that up to a late period the beltane mysteries were gone through. 
 These heathen rites, connected with the worship of Bel or Baal, if often per- 
 formed on such heights, would give our forefathers many a stiff climb and 
 many a gorgeous view. Whether the hour of worship was day-dawn or even- 
 tide, curious would be the scene as the cattle and sheep were driven through 
 the fire on the summit of Ben Ledi, to shield them from the trows and other 
 mischievous spirits; and it is sad to contemplate that perhaps in the same 
 spot, at a still earlier date, the favour of Sol may have been sought by human 
 sacrifice. 
 
 The glen through which the Lennie and Loch Lubnaig flow merits a visit 
 and may be traversed by rail. The Callander and Loch Katrine tourist coaches 
 passed at full speed, leaving in their rear a cloud of finely-powdered dust: this 
 dust rises from the road on very slight provocation, and soon converts him who 
 
 28 
 
2 
 
 Ay 
 a) Vy 
 
 = 
 Ss = = 
 = = = = So : Z 2 eer Z: 
 a = 2 _ : : : 
 
 “Jeo 
 
 VY FPL E, 
 
 ie 
 
 BEN LEDI AND LENNIE WATER. 
 
A Pedlar in Clover. 
 
 is dressed in dark cloth into the semblance of a dusty miller. Young men sped 
 their engine-like course, “doing the Trosachs.” They were too busy to admire 
 the scenery, intent on one object—the accomplishment of a certain mileage 
 within a given time. Others were picnicing by a rocky stream, where a few 
 treelets gave them partial shelter from the sun’s rays. 
 
 VENACHAR, FROM ABOVE CALLANDER. 
 
 I hope my readers are fond of tramps, and like to listen to their stories, for 
 I have that weakness largely developed. As I neared Venachar I met an old 
 pedlar carrying two baskets: he had one hanging on each arm, and a ragman’s 
 sack over his nght shoulder. His wares comprised buttons, pins, dolls, tapes, 
 thread, rattles, whistles, and the like. He was mourning the degeneracy of 
 nineteenth century ways, and thought it a very hard case that himself had not 
 been invited to mount the mail coach that had just galloped past him. His 
 last had been a fortunate night in regard to housing, though he had to walk 
 four miles in search thereof, for a bed of new hay had been spread for him by 
 two kind-hearted lassies. He said—and I suppose it was literally true—‘“TI 
 was in cover last night.” He seldom fared so well; as, for instance, when 
 visiting Callander two nights before, his utmost eloquence could not persuade 
 
 29 
 
A Pedlar's Gricvance. 
 
 any one within three miles of that place to give him a corner to lie down in: 
 this caused him to wander farther, seeking a resting-place. The first might he 
 lay outside in a farm-yard, burying himself as well as he could in a haystack ; 
 the second he spent ina barn with roéfens (rats), and it proved a night of fight- 
 ing: he believes that but for his stick he would have fared badly ; as it was, 
 the noiseless thieves (the rottens) ate through his strong hempen store-bag, 
 and considerably reduced the bulk of his larder. The farmer got no blessing 
 for grudging the ratcatcher his fee. 
 
 This pedlar hailed from Cellardykes in Fife; spends the winter months in 
 the big cities, and in the spring season begins his annual Highland tour, tra- 
 velling over the same ground year after year, knowing every farm and cottage, 
 and the door where there was a likelihood of his transacting a little business. 
 He echoed forth the complaints that had run through the land many days in 
 regard to dull trade, and now circumstances were further against him, for the 
 cottagers were all out in the fields busy with haymaking, and he found it diffi- 
 cult to come to terms with the faithful collie dogs often left in charge of the 
 homestead. Once upon a time he thought his life would be a more joyous 
 one if he had a partner; so he came to terms with a man somewhat younger 
 than himself, and agreed to share with him such bed and board as fell to his 
 lot, on condition that his partner became burden-bearer ; but this partner was 
 thought to have acted most unreasonably in that, while the senior member of 
 the firm had a gill of whiskey one cold day, the junior asked the publican to 
 boil the kettle, that he might have tea at half-past eleven in the forenoon, 
 instead of waiting an hour later, which was the regular breakfast-time with 
 them. After this supposed flagrant misdemeanour on the part of the junior, 
 the partnership was dissolved—I would fain hope, not to his loss. 
 
 ‘From this picture of real life let us retrace our steps back to Coilantogle 
 Ford, the scene to which, in the “‘ Lady of the Lake,” Sir Walter Scott de- 
 scribes Roderick Dhu as guiding James Fitz-James in safety, before the hand- 
 to-hand conflict in which the former received his death-wound. The tourist 
 who would enjoy aright these scenes should not be contented with the meagre 
 quotations in the guide books, or only read in the poem the little bit referring 
 toa particular scene, but drink in the whole poem; thus every spot will suggest 
 associations that will greatly enliven the landscape, and often give him.a key 
 to understand the people. The walk part of the way was by Venachar-side, 
 and shortly thereafter a rustic cottage was in sight: it is the subject of the 
 
 30 
 
The Bread-wife's. 
 
 engraving, the “ Bread-wife’s Cottage, Brig o’ Turk,” known by this name in the 
 district because the goodwife who lives in it sells bread. Her cottage is a very 
 general place of call for gentlefolks and the common people. Any one coming 
 home or going away spends some time with the breadwife. Walking tourists 
 have a drink of milk there, and a seat, either out or inside, as they incline. All 
 the countryside seem well acquainted with the shrewd Scotchwoman, who 
 graces her arm-chair as well as any queen her throne. I was almost forgetting 
 
 ANAM 
 WKN 
 
 th 
 ot 
 
 " WW Oy ili 
 
 gt 
 
 DUNCRAGGAN HUT. 
 
 to mention that the cottage and the lady alike can boast a visit on one or 
 more occasions from Royalty, when the Queen spent a season at Invertrosachs 
 Lodge. Artists, too, visit here, and, if civil and she takes to them, they are 
 permitted to sketch the cottage, on condition that herself be not painted. It 
 is wonderfully compact, and the space is made the most of. The spare room 
 forms a very small snuggery for one artist in the summer season, and is seldom 
 without a tenant. The kitchen end is divided into two by a wooden partition: 
 one part serves as kitchen, parlour, drawing-room, dining-room, smoking-room, 
 and also the sleeping-place of the boatman, who for the last sixteen years has 
 lodged there; the inner division I did not see into—it seemed very small, but 
 31 
 
Duncraggan L[Tuts. 
 
 we may safely reckon it will have two box-beds in it, one for the old lady and 
 the big blooming lass, maid-of-all-work, indoor and outdoor—good at making 
 kale, baking scones, milking the kye, churning the butter, and kindred accom- 
 plishments—the other for any friend passing that way. 
 
 But it is time I hied me home to my own lodging at Duncraggan Huts, and 
 also time to close this chapter; so adieu to the Bread-wife’s Cottage meantime. 
 
 CALLANDER BRIDGE, 
 
 32 
 
BREAD-WIFE’S COTTAGE, BRIG 0’ TURK. 
 
1 A ML A 
 
 eo 
 
 LOCH KATRINE, LOOKING TOWARDS STRONACHLACHAR. 
 
 CHAPTER §III. 
 
 A WALK TO LOCH KATRINE. 
 
 On Tuesday, July 25th, I rose at half-past five—and I am sorry to own this 
 is rather an unusual proceeding on my part—and took a look-out over the 
 landscape as seen from the window of the particular Duncraggan Hut where I 
 was located. New-clipped sheep were coming over the distant hills, and in the 
 grey of the morning they seemed of a snowy white; there had been a little 
 frost during the night, “and would be more the year,” my landlady added— 
 meaning that we might look for it often after the first. The duck family were 
 astir, flapping their wings and stretching their necks towards Ben Venue, as if 
 wistful to learn from him what prospects of muddy pools they might entertain. 
 There was a slight breeze stealing through the leafage and catching the sur- 
 face of Achray. ‘“Cock-a-leerie ” let his voice be heard—“ Cock-a-leerie-law !” 
 echoed from the captain’s farmyard ; a third and a fourth repeated the call, then 
 the first again, till the roll-call echoed far and near. Ifthe calls were martial, 
 not less so was the bearing of Cock-a-Leerie, Esq. the First, as he led forth from 
 the fir woods a number of his wives: his look was fierce, his coat was gay, and 
 his strut was princely. The cattle were out having a morning feed of grass ; 
 the shop of the district was luxurious through masses of rich colour—fine con- 
 volvulus flowers and a variety of rose blossoms. A bye-path by a small fir wood 
 led to the Trosachs road, and Glen Finlas lay full in view, with the cottages 
 
 33 5 
 
Glen Fintas. 
 
 that skirt the hill-side at the opening of the glen. An old man, a pensioner, 
 who was herding, gave me a very graphic description of his going, in his 
 soldier days, from Edinburgh Castle to Holyrood Palace by the underground 
 channel that is known to exist between the two places ; he described the stench 
 as very killing, and wondered he got out alive: the reward he got was ten 
 shillings and sixpence. But the man was getting doitet, which caused me to 
 take with a measure of reserve his account of the journey he describes. 
 
 The sun darted a few rays through the clouds; a little blue smoke curled 
 upwards from the houses. The commonty, or pasture-ground common to all, 
 was of a rough character, diversified by large granite boulders, juniper and 
 brambleberry-bushes, bracken, and in the marshes green rashes. ‘The little 
 patches of cultivated ground bare a variety of crops—oats, hay, and potatoes ; 
 the roofing of the huts and houses comprised slate, tile, and different kinds and 
 ages of thatch. The wind had a watery wail: telegraph-poles told that even 
 this rural retreat is brought very nigh to the great centres of life. A plot of 
 meadow was marvellous for variety of colour: the yellow vetching and an end- 
 less list of other wild flowers, amid beautiful grasses, gave some faint idea of 
 what the prairie-land of Western British America is, where the wild flowers cover 
 vast tracts of country, grow to a great height, and are extremely rich in colour. 
 The humming of bees out honey-gathering was heard, and the barking of 
 guardian sheep dogs and terriers as they chased from their respective territory 
 the cattle which crossed the march; small birds were hopping and fluttering 
 about—I saw one robin redbreast ; a company of gentlemen’s servants were 
 out airing the horses; a few wild pigeons flew from place to place. The sun 
 was again veiled, and left an all-over grey effect in the sky. 
 
 How peaceful was Glen Finlas as viewed from the stone bridge that spans 
 the stream! A richly wooded knoll hid the sterner features of the rocky 
 mountain-side, whose precipices walled its western bank; the near trees were 
 in full leaf. The birds had waked to their melodious twittering ; still pools 
 reflected the oak-boughs ; the stony bed was seen along the margin, and was 
 lined by many a shrub and stalwart weed. The distant hills, like modest maids, 
 refused to unveil their features, but they rather peered through the misty cloud- 
 veil; and often, as you fondly expected to have one good look, the veil seemed 
 only to grow denser, and to be folded more tightly around their moistened 
 cheeks. 
 
 A yamekeeper emerged from the woods at the mouth of the glen, and bore 
 
 34: 
 
“SHIVSONL AHL 
 
The Trosachs. 
 
 THE HILL ROAD, GLEN FINLAS. 
 
 me company till he reached his kennel at Loch Achray Lodge. On the brink 
 of that lake we saw a duck giving three ducklings of tender years a swimming 
 exercise. The road lay ’mid pleasing scenes: the heath was in the heyday 
 of its bloom, and on entering the rocky defile known as the Trosachs, each 
 step brought to the eye an ample feast—silver-toned rock masses, with veinings 
 and marlings of various shades; precipices crowned with the crimson heather- 
 bell, whose gorgeous clusters gave a festal look to those rock summits. In 
 restful contrast to these gay colourings was the far-stretching generally-prevail- 
 ing sheen of shy light on the leafage of the silver birch and the bracken. 
 Finer peeps of the Trosachs are gained by leaving the carriage road, and 
 mounting the knolls so abundant there. You can only do so, however, by 
 steering your way through a thicket of ferns nearly six feet high. The peeps 
 among the silver birches are very refreshing: we marvel not that John Mac- 
 whirter finds in such a subject a congenial theme and poetic picture, with ample 
 scope for patient earnest study. Tree-painting is a branch of art which, as a 
 rule, the Scotch school is singularly defective‘in. Deep-toned velvety lichens 
 A 35 ia 
 
The Approach to Loch Katrine. 
 
 mark alike the rocky precipice, the moss- grown boulder, and the birchen 
 stems. Rocks fallen from the heights were deep bedded in the soil; trees 
 slain in the gales lay shrouded in shrouds of more gorgeous tinting than that 
 of mortal man, who is buried deeper; there were dark recesses, where the 
 sun seldom penetrates by a direct ray, and in those shades were posies of 
 tender ferns, verdant tree-sproutings, and pale weak grass; delicate flowerets, 
 rich-toned moss in darkest purple and brown setting; tall rushes growing in 
 stagnant pools of water; heights of rock rising aloft, and tier above tier of 
 trees—mass above mass, leafage, rock, and heather: through such a channel 
 Katrine is reached. 
 
 How different is the road we tread so comfortably, compared with the deep 
 morass and dense thicket, where the ferns so completely covered over the 
 spaces between the rocks and treacherous holes, that the traveller was in con- 
 stant danger of sharing the fate of James’s gallant grey, when— 
 
 ““Close on the hounds the hunter came, 
 To cheer them on the vanished game ; 
 But, stumbling in the rugged dell, 
 The gallant horse exhausted fell. 
 ‘The impatient rider strove in vain 
 To rouse him with the spur and rein— 
 For the good steed, his labours o’er, 
 Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more.” 
 
 Sir Walter Scott gives us an exquisite word-picture of the approach to the 
 lake at sunset : 
 
 * 
 “The western waves of ebbing day 
 
 Roll’d o’er the glen their level way ; 
 Each purple peak, each flinty spire, 
 Was bathed in floods of living fire ; 
 But not a setting beam could glow 
 Within the dark ravines below, 
 Where twined the path, in shadow hid, 
 Round many a rocky pyramid, 
 Shooting abruptly from the dell 
 Its thunder-splintered pinnacle ; 
 Round many an insulated mass 
 
 ‘The native bulwarks of the pass. 
 * * * * * * * * 
 
 **Boon nature scatter’d free and wild, 
 Each plant or flower, the mountain’s child. 
 Here eglantine embalm’d the air, 
 Hawthorn and hazel mingled there: 
 The primrose pale, and violet flower, 
 Found in each cliff a narrow bower ; 
 Foxglove and nightshade, side by side— 
 Emblems of punishment and pride, 
 Group’d their dark hues with every stain 
 The weather-beaten crags retain. 
 With boughs that quaked at every breath, 
 Grey birch and aspen wept beneath ; 
 
 Nor were these mighty bulwarks bare, Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 
 
 Nor lacked they many a banner fair ; Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 
 
 For, from their shiver’d brows display’d, And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 
 
 Far o’er the unfathomable glade, His shattered trunk, and frequent flung 
 
 All twinkling with the dewdrop’s sheen, Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high 
 
 The brier-rose fell in streamers green, | His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. 
 
 And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, 
 Waved in the west wind’s summer sighs. Where glist’ning streamers waved and danced, 
 
 i 
 
 aia i ele 
 
 —_ 
 
Loch Katrine. 
 
 The wanderer’s eye could barely view 
 The summer heaven’s delicious blue ; 
 
 So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 
 The scenery of a fairy dream. 
 
 “Onward, amid the copse ’gan peep 
 A narrow inlet, still and deep— 
 Affording scarce such breadth of brim 
 As served the wild duck’s brood to swim 
 Lost for a space, through thickets veering, 
 But broader when again appearing ; 
 Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 
 Could on the dark-blue mirror trace ; 
 And farther as the hunter stray’d, 
 Still broader sweep its channels made. 
 The shaggy mounds no longer stood, 
 Emerging from entangled wood, 
 But, wave-encircled, seemed to float, 
 Like castle girded with its moat ; 
 Yet broader floods extending still 
 Divide them from their parent hill, 
 Till each, retiring, claims to be 
 An islet in an inland sea. 
 
 ELLEN’S ISLE, 
 
 “And now, to issue from the glen, 
 
 No pathway meets the wanderer’s ken, 
 Unless he climb with footing nice R 
 A far-projecting precipice. 
 
 The broom’s tough roots his ladder made, 
 The hazel saplings lent their aid ; 
 
 And thus an airy point he won, 
 
 Where, gleaming with the setting sun, 
 One burnish’d sheet of living gold, 
 
 Loch Katrine lay beneath him roll’d ; 
 
 In all her length far winding lay, 
 
 With promontory, creek, and bay ; 
 
 And islands that, empurpled bright, 
 Floated amid the livelier light; 
 
 And mountains, that like giants stand, 
 To sentinel enchanted land. 
 
 High on the south huge Ben Venue 
 Down on the lake in masses threw 
 
 Crags, knolls and mounds, confusedly hurl’d, 
 
 The fragments of an earlier world ; 
 
 A wildering forest feather’d o’er 
 
 His ruin’d sides and summit hoar ; 
 While on the north, through middle air, 
 Ben An heaved high his forehead bare.” 
 
 I must now lead my reader back to my own matter-of-fact jog-trot, and tell 
 about the thatch-protected pier at the head of Katrine, from which passengers 
 embark on board the steamer that sails to Stronachiachar, where also small boats 
 
 37 
 
The Silver Strand. 
 
 are hired for visiting Ellen’s Isle, and other parts of the lake. The rocky walls 
 glittered with tints from Nature’s full palette of colour: a rich tracery of 
 leafage filled the vales between the rugged knolls, and the water was so 
 guarded from the winds, it 
 reflected on its bosom each 
 rock, each birchen bough, 
 each tiny fern. A _bridle- 
 path skirts the northern 
 shore, and leads by moun- 
 
 tain streams, after the poet’s 
 fondest fancy and the 
 painter’s happiest dreams. 
 Away by the lake margin— 
 over towering heights, under 
 the birchen boughs, under 
 the oak shades—we revel in 
 a repetition of such scenes, 
 save that no two are alike, 
 and the silver strand is 
 reached. To “Let Glasgow 
 
 oy 
 
 flourish,” the silver strand 
 has been wellnigh sub- 
 merged ; only enough of it 
 
 remains to enable the tra- 
 
 veller to discover the place 
 
 so named. The water-level 
 
 was raised considerably, and 
 
 many skeletonized birches 
 
 A PEEP AT LOCH KATRINE HEAD, 
 
 stood in weird lonesome- 
 
 ness in the lake, in striking 
 contrast to their gladsome friends, who waved their silvery leaves so sportively : 
 above them, rejoicing that the interests of Glasgow have not required their 
 drowning. A few tourists were having some fun on the remains of the strand: 
 
 there was little romance about the party; it was hard to imagine the man who ; 
 tucked up his trousers and bathed his feet in the cool waters, and splashed it BY 
 over his friends good-naturedly with the said feet, a Roderick Dhu, a Malcolm. c 
 : \ wd 
 
 38 . yy 
 
 Tye 
 
SS 
 
 VE 
 
 Z 
 
 Pre 
 
 Vy Yi 
 
 LOCH KATRINE, FROM SILVER STRAND. 
 
A Lady of the Lake. 
 
 or a James Fitz-James ; and as difficult to clothe the gentle ones of the company 
 in poetic garb. 
 
 Leaving the silver strand, the rocky knolls, the leafy glades, the bold pro- 
 montories that skirt the mountain base, I reached the point from which Mac- 
 culloch is said to have painted his famous picture of Loch Katrine—a picture 
 which, for exquisite delineation of a mountain-side reflected in smooth water, 
 has seldom been equalled; and farther still, the Lomond-seeking side of the 
 lake opens out. Seated on a shelving rock immediately above the path that 
 
 CORRIE AT THE BACK OF BEN VENUE, 
 
 winds far up the mountain-side, I sat to drink it in, and give it a place in the 
 sketch-book ; and thus entranced, a lady rode past on a fine bay steed: she 
 was very lovely, and gave the finishing-touch of exquisiteness to the whole 
 scene. May she beautify many a landscape, and be a very sunbeam of joyful- 
 ness wherever she goes, and bloom hereafter in the upper garden! I often 
 breathe a benediction as the possessor of a sweet face passes me; it is one 
 means of repaying the debt I owe such for having wafted to me a thrill of joy 
 
 Later in the afternoon, as the rain long threatening began to fall, I sat on a 
 promontory between the lake and the path, while I sketched intently one of the 
 corries behind Ben Venue. I heard a loud shout behind me, and before I 
 had more than time to turn round, a broad strongly-built man, dressed in 
 homespun tweeds and a light straw hat, held out his fat hand to me, and 
 grasped me warmly by the hand. His beard was unkempt, and his eyes of 
 piercing black had a startled look. He at once proceeded to deliver to me, in 
 
 39 
 
Roving Ronald. 
 
 stentorian voice, with many strange gesticulations and tremendous emphasis, a 
 sermon. I listened patiently, wondering not a little. The sermon done, he 
 became calmer, and told me he was intimate with Queen Victoria—was “just 
 like one of themselves.” . 
 
 “The Queen,” he said, told him, “‘‘ Never you want a home while I have 
 one !’—an’ ay, but she’s keen for me to ha’e her dochter Beatrice. I’m awfw’ 
 sich! I’ve a property aboot as big as Scotland, in America. The Queen’s ta 
 see after it forme. She said, ‘If anybody wrongs you, just you tell me—I’ll 
 sort them!’ The Prince o’ Wales, I ken him fine !—him and me’s awfw’ inti- 
 mate. The Queen’s a fine woman, an’ so keen I sud tak’ the lassie—I dinna 
 think I will, though; there are sa mony lassies a’ after me !—maybe it’s my 
 money they’re after. I, dinna ken what to dae with them a’! Only the day I 
 was wi’ a wheen.o’ them, an’ they mad’ sicken a wark wi’ me! I see them, the 
 dear young leddies, rinnin’ doon the hill! They maun be comin’ after me! 
 Hoy! hey! hurraye !—they see it’s me !—ay, but they’re fond o’ me!” 
 
 He often asked me tag come and see them. After the sketch was finished I 
 rose—my new friend gave a Herculean shout, and I saw the dear young leddies 
 he had been raving about having a bathe in Loch Katrine, in a sequestered 
 nook, where a white pebbly beach gave them good footing. I disappeared in 
 all haste, and hied this roving Ronald to follow me. By the way he gave me 
 ofttimes the same tale—the Queen’s fondness for him, his untold acres, how 
 he meant to distribute his wealth once it was in his hand. Another theme was 
 deeply graven on his mind: it was an injury some one had done him. 
 
 “Would I had the rascal—the proud conceited fool !—at Loch Katrine. I 
 wouldna hurt a hair o’ his head, but I wad frichten him—ay, wad I. I wad 
 ho’d him like a vice, and douk him in the water. I’m stronger nor he is. I 
 wad grip him just like a cat does a mouse, an’ shake him till he’d beg my 
 pardon. He wad look sheepish—ay, wad he. Fine he’d ken wha was the 
 best man then. Maybe he’ll come the way, and then I’ll pounce on him; 
 but, mind, I’ll no hurt him—no, no a hair o’ his head.” 
 
 He took me in hand as his particular charge, and pleaded long and hard 
 with me to leave off sketching “ Ellen’s Isle.” 
 
 “Ye’ll get yersel’ a’ drooket; ye’re share to be the warse o’t. Oh, come 
 away, man, come away! I like yer company real weel, an’ I wonna gang 
 without ye.” 
 
 Every person we met he had a word with; he hallooed to the captain of the 
 
 A) 
 
 ——————— 
 
Roving Ronald at the Bread-wife's. 
 
 steamboat; was teased about the lassies by the boatmen; pleaded with tears 
 in his eyes with some young men to give up drinking whiskey ; ‘advised a gen- 
 tleman whom he suspected to be a sheep farmer, “Oh, man, be kind to yer 
 men—be awfu’ kind to them, and the Lord will bless ye.” The rain fell 
 heavily, and we both were getting pretty well soaked, notwithstanding the 
 shelter my umbrella gave us. Just at Loch Achray he left me, that he might 
 call at the manse, and I was left free to get the accompanying sketch of “‘ Loch 
 Achray in Rainy Weather” (the ‘‘ Evening Sketch of Achray” was taken at an- 
 
 EVENING SKETCH OF LOCH ACHRAY, 
 
 other time). I was grateful to get buck to Duncraggan Huts. My companion, 
 Roving Ronald, landed at the bread-wife’s at a later hour, and so alarmed her 
 English artist lodger by his excited recitals of sermons he had heard preached 
 by the Rev. Thomas Binnie, and such pieces as “ Lord Ullin’s Daughter,” that 
 he was unable to settle to his work for a couple of days after. He told me he 
 had never witnessed such excited declamation, and the sound of Ronald’s 
 voice gave him fear lest the roof of the dwelling might be brought down on the 
 top of them. If the reader chance to meet this rover, speak kindly to him— 
 he will do his utmost to serve you, despite his strongly-marked peculiarities. 
 The cottagers of these mountain-girt glens esteem him a welcome guest. 
 
 I would gladly, had space permitted, have related to the reader many other 
 rambles within a circle of miles round Duncraggan; have introduced him to 
 the artists who flock thither in the later summer and the early autumn months; 
 
 AL 6 
 
Over the Fills. 
 
 and have led him up the rocky water-worn bed of Finlas, to explore its weird 
 dens, fit home for spirit bands—and lonesome spirits too—who are supposed 
 to sigh among the leaves, and chant celestial strains to the ceaseless cadence 
 of the rushing stream. <A few extra notes* gleaned in this neighbourhood will 
 be found in the Appendix. We now bend our steps over the hills to Aberfoyle. 
 
 The morning of the day when that walk was undertaken was very wet; at 
 noon prospects brightened, blue sky was unveiled, the silver lining of the grey 
 cloud-mantle had a dazzling lustre and spread its ample folds over the whole 
 vale, and hasted my departure. I bade farewell to my landlady and the faith- 
 ful watch collie, “old dog Royal,” to a few of the neighbours, and a lady and 
 her sick son, whom she had brought thither in the hope that he might regain 
 health, and made for “ Brig o’ Turk.” On the other side of Achray I left the 
 haymakers at their healthful work, and sought the faint tracings of a path 
 through the meadow-land. In lovely freshness the varied landscape glowed, 
 as I reached two thatched cottages set in loveliest green, and met a man who 
 had enjoyed the summers and weathered the winters of threescore years and 
 ten. Tull two months before he had ever been a hale hearty man, able to 
 work a good day’s work; now he was quite infirm: he had been seized with 
 faintings and shiverings immediately after taking a large draught of cold water 
 onawarm day. He was endeavouring to herd. If our city bairns had seen one 
 of the group left under his charge—a sportive calf at lively airy frolics—they 
 would have judged that he was a very great-grandchild of the cow who jumped 
 over the moon. The old man gave me some practical hints as to how not to 
 lose my way in going over the hill path. It led by a steep-flowing burn over 
 the shoulder of a hill, and each step climbed gave a new vantage-point from 
 which to behold the glories that opened out on every side. One view I have 
 drawn on the wood ; but it would need colour, and also the bracing mountain 
 air, to enable my reader to enjoy aright the scene. The silvery waters of Loch 
 Katrine glint between the leaf and heath-clad buttresses of solid rock that 
 guard the entrance of the Trosachs Pass. A very sea of heath and fern and 
 birchen boughs, waving in the breeze and shimmering in the sunlight, moist 
 and glittering, spread ridge on ridge over the vale and up the steep hill-slopes, 
 with a tremulous motion like to the ripplings of ocean. The path led into 
 the seclusion of a mountain fastness, a dell of loveliest hues, from which was 
 
 * Appendix. Note J. 
 42 
 
“MHAIN AVMHDV 
 
Aberfoyle. 
 
 seen the treelet-lined and rock-embedded Drunkie Loch, over a fine tract of 
 mountain-land, by a rocky stream, down to Aberfoyle, whose hostelry was a 
 very welcome feature in the landscape, and a pleasing quietude wherein to 
 spend the Sabbath. Bailie Nicol Jarvie is the patron saint of the district ; his 
 arms, the red-hot poker wherewith he asserted the dignity of his bailieship ; 
 the inn is called by his name; you see him in the tea-cups, in the saucers, on 
 the plates, and in the basin where you wash your face he is seen; and before 
 
 mine host bids you adieu you fold him into your pocket with your hotel bill ; 
 
 VIEW FROM THE INN WINDOW, ABERFOYLE. 
 
 while outside of the inn, attached by iron fastenings to an old tree, is the 
 famous weapon wielded by the worthy bailie (at any rate, we are told so) ; pos- 
 sibly a century hence it may find its way into a museum of antiquarian relics, 
 and be pointed to as the sword used by the Clan Macpherson before the 
 Flood; for, be it known to English friends, that this clan claim to have sailed 
 through the Deluge in their own boat, altogether independent of the ark, and 
 tell us further that Adam was a real Macpherson and spoke the best of Gaelic. 
 
 Space will not permit our introducing to you our host and the hostages that 
 were staying under his homely rooftree, or to picture the varied scenes that 
 clustered round the Clachan. I will the rather have you start towards Loch 
 Lomond, and note a few of the wayside features. We have fora little distance 
 the windings of the Forth on our left, and the dark steep brow of a Ben I 
 incline to call Ben Dhu from its blackness—a liberty allowable when we find’ 
 
 43 62 
 
Wayside Fottinges. 
 
 the stream under its shadow named Avon Dhu, onthe left. The fields are laden 
 with an ample crop of potatoes and hay; the cottages are weather-stained, and 
 the large windows some can boast show how the south country is weaning our 
 highlanders from their darksome rooms. Gardens by the roadside were clothed 
 with wild flowers and weeds, among which an occasional garden rose shone in 
 singular beauty. A mill lead proved a very mine of rare gems in the way of 
 flowerets, mossy stone, tangled root, and calm reflections. i 
 
 The morning was grey: the distance was bedded in silver light; a gentle 
 
 breeze kept off the shower, and also protected partially from the unpleasant 
 
 LOCH ARD. 
 
 assaults of pertinacious flies. The road wound its course upwards slightly, and 
 left the river some fifty feet below ; rowan-trees o’erspread the near side. Nor 
 was there lack of sound: the breeze among the leafage, and the waters cours- 
 ing over the mossy stones, supplied a sweet cadence ; a family of rooks cawed 
 hoarsely ; and a little child, who was meeting a real or fancied Bubblyjock, 
 cried piteously ; while the cackle of the roosters told of “ new-laid eggs.” The 
 hill beyond the river was crowned with a graceful group of Scotch firs; the old 
 mill was a wreck: a cart passed, having a family and a large trunk in it, show- 
 ing how thoroughly we were out of the coach and the tram route. A little lass 
 with flaxen hair was out on an errand, and looked like the country—with her 
 bare feet, shepherd’s tartan dress, green jacket, and brown straw hat. Cottages 
 cling to the mountain-side like limpets to the sea-laved rock, and are wedded 
 Ad 
 
  — 
 
 a ee ee ee 
 
 Oo 
 
 a 
 
LOCH ACHRAY, 
 
Loch Ard. 
 
 to it by the grass and the clinging tendrils that half envelope them. I noted 
 _ one with variegated thatch, dark grey-stone; a patch of bright green turf filled 
 what had originally been a window, a dog-rose bush bedecked it with many a 
 crimson blossom and delicate bud; the hedging round was full of flowers; a 
 rowan-tree waved above the few gooseberry-bushes and the many cabbages in 
 the garden; and behind, in dark cloud-shades, was stern Craigmore. Loch 
 Ard opened to our view, the shower cleared off, and we had an evanescent 
 glimpse of Ben Lomond. An artificial road skirts the near side of Ard; the 
 cliffs slant upwards from the lake, and wherever there is soil, the oak and silver 
 birch grow profusely—bracken and heather-bell fringe the rocks. A fishing 
 party drove past, and in waterproof attire made for a small boat at a loch- 
 side jetty, and were 
 soon skimming 
 
 over the waters, 
 and disappeared 
 
 up the narrows—a 
 
 channel where, I 
 
 am told, the scen- 
 
 ery 1S gorgeous in 
 
 the extreme: far as 
 
 the eye can trace 
 the lake is girt with 
 
 treelets, a series of 
 heath-clad hills 
 rise beyond, and ABOVE LOCH ARD. 
 
 farther on the slop- 
 
 ing heights that lead to the crowning glory of the landscape—Ben Lomond. 
 
 After pursuing my walk some miles farther, I halted under an alder-tree about 
 noon. A freshening breeze had carried the rain-clouds aloft; a field of oats 
 waved its delicate crop behind my retreat; the murmur of a rapid stream was 
 heard near by, and blended its tones with those of the-rustling trees. The 
 opposite hill-side was bleak; above the tree-clad margin. of the lake withered- 
 looking grasses showed that the soil lacked depth; the sheep were very white, 
 haying been recently clipped. On the mountain-side of the opposite shore is a 
 little cataract, whose thread of white water marks with a silvery line a deep 
 rocky fissure. 
 
 AS 
 
The Back of Ben Lomond. 
 
 Three o’clock in the afternoon found me sketching a corrie, whose name I 
 have forgotten and cannot find in the map, at the back of Ben Lomond; but 
 it is enough for the reader to know that the mountain that figures so pro- 
 minently in it is the same as forms the peak of Lomond. The ether was in- 
 tensely blue, the clouds were white as the riven snow ; warm grey clouds were 
 drifting from westward, and mantled in deep shades of gloom the corrie, or 
 
 AT THE BACK OF BEN LOMOND, 
 
 cast deep tones over the near mountain-side, giving greater force and bright- 
 ness to its sunlit slopes. 
 
 Loch Chon was the next scene of rugged character. Its features were not 
 unlike those we have already described ; and we hasten on by Arklet’s Lake 
 towards Inversnaid, to get a glimpse of Loch Lomond. The walk proved most 
 enjoyable, and the famed fall was seen to considerable advantage ; the hotel 
 is close by the fall, and by keeping your bed-room window slightly open, you 
 may be hushed to slumber by its gentle lullaby. The moon rose early in the 
 evening, and as the sunlight faded, the gentler light cast soft rays over the 
 loch, and long I lingered peering at the mighty mountains upon the other 
 
 46 
 
Loch Lomond. 
 
 shore and up the rippling waters. It was difficult to go inside, for I forgot 
 the tiredness of the body in the refreshment of mind thus enjoyed. 
 
 An early boat 
 sailed westward, and 
 I landed at Tar- 
 bet, and sought a 
 homely lodging, 
 thinking to settle 
 down for some time; 
 but rain — rain — 
 
 rain was the song 
 
 of morning, noon, 
 and night, and I 
 saw very little of the 
 pride of Scottish 
 lakes other than its po mdae a 
 weeping, and learnt 
 
 . to sympathize with those enthusiastic amateurs who rush to spend their one 
 
 LOCH LOMOND. 
 
 fortnight of holidays in our Scottish highlands, and find St. Swithin at the head 
 of affairs, 
 
 I took a walk through the pass that leads to Arrocher, hoping to get a good 
 47 
 
The Cobbler and his Wife. 
 
 view of the Cobbler, thinking I might be as fortunate as the late Alexander 
 Smith, who witnessed the worthy Cobbler and his like-featured wife when 
 they had a downright tiff. I found them both in the dumps, greeting sair, 
 and the accompanying sketches give all I was enabled to see of them; and 
 it was difficult work to get even so much, for it rained heavily and the wind 
 
 THE COBBLER AND HIS WIFE. AFTER THE SKETCH BY MY FRIEND. 
 
 was very boisterous. An enthusiastic artist friend was more successful: he 
 visited the Cobbler on a gala day, when their Majesties held a /ezvée. He 
 has kindly allowed me to copy his sketch for my “ Rambles ;” but it proved 
 avery dear sketch to him. He got up and down safely enough; but the after 
 result almost cost him his life, and shows that extreme caution is needed in 
 climbing our Scottish mountains, to avoid sitting for any length of time in the 
 piercing cold of those heights after being greatly heated by the stiff climb: far 
 43 
 
“dNOWOT HOOT 
 
- 
 
 Smith's cvtsit to the Cobbler. 
 
 better crawl up if it 
 be desirable to stay 
 any length of time 
 on the top. Let 
 me quote for you 
 Smith’s description 
 from his ‘Summer 
 in Skye”: 
 
 “Up betimes next 
 morning, you are on 
 the beautiful road 
 which runs between 
 
 ~Tarbet and Arro- 
 char, and _ begin, 
 through broken, 
 white up-streaming 
 mists, to make ac- 
 quaintance with the 
 ‘Cobbler,’and some 
 other peaks of that 
 rolling country to 
 which Celtic face- 
 tiousness has given 
 the name of the 
 “Duke of -Argyle’s 
 Bowling- Green.’ 
 Escaping from the 
 birches that line the 
 road, and descend- 
 ing on Arrochar and 
 Loch Long, you can 
 leisurely inspect the 
 proportions of the 
 mountain Crispin. 
 He is a gruesome 
 carle, and inhospit- 
 
 COBBLER IN MIST. 
 
 COBBLER IN MIST. 
 
 49 ” 
 
The Cobbler and his Wife. 
 
 able to strangers. He does not wish to be intruded upon,—is a very hermit, in 
 fact ; for when, after wild waste of breath and cuticle, a daring mortal climbs 
 up to him, anxious to be introduced, behold he has slipped his cable and is no- 
 where to be seen. And it does not improve the temper of the climber, that, 
 when down again, and casting up his eyes, he discovers the rocky figure sitting 
 in his accustomed place. The Cobbler’s Wife sits a little way off,—an ancient 
 dame, to the full as withered in her appearance as her husband, and as difficult 
 of access. They dwell in tolerable amity, the twain ; but when they do quarrel 
 it is something tremendous! The whole county knows when a tiff is in pro- 
 gress. The sky darkens above them. The Cobbler frowns black as midnight. 
 His wife sits sulking in the mist. His wife’s conduct aggravates the Cobbler, 
 who is naturally of a peppery temper, and he gives vent to a discontented 
 growl. Nothing loth, and to the full as irascible as her spouse, his wife spits 
 back fire upon him. The row begins. They flash at one another in the 
 savagest manner, scolding all the while in the grandest Billingsgate. Every- 
 thing listens to them for twenty miles round. At last the wife gives in, and 
 falls to downright weeping, the crusty old fellow sending a shot into her at 
 intervals. She cries, and he grumbles, into the night. Peace seems to have 
 been restored somehow when everybody is asleep; for next morning the Cob- 
 bler has renewed his youth. He shines in the sun like a very bridegroom— 
 not a frown on the old countenance of him; and his wife opposite, the tears 
 hardly dried upon her face yet, smiles upon him through her prettiest head- 
 dress of mist; and for the next six weeks they enjoy as bright, unclouded 
 weather as husband and wife can expect in a world where everything is im- 
 perfect.” 
 
 My Loch Lomond sketches reveal the prevailing weather during my visit to 
 her borders. I ever longed to have one day of sunshine, though mixed with 
 shower; but at length my patience became exhausted, and I shouldered my 
 knapsack, and was soon on board the Balloch-bound steamboat, while the 
 wind blew fiercely, and it rained heavily at intervals; it was most refreshing, 
 although altogether unworkable, and nearly succeeded in unrobing some of the 
 passengers. I concluded from the steady admiring gaze of a tall old gentle- 
 man that he must needs be an artist, and witha like ease he knew me to be an 
 aspirant in pursuit of the same art; and we stood together drinking in the 
 effects of the storm-clouds that chased and counter-chased each other over the 
 lake, as we sailed under the shades of the mighty Ben, or were piloting our 
 
 50 
 
Loch Lomond. 
 
 way among the islets of varied character—almost all of them bearing “ Inch” 
 as a prefatory syllable. The surface of the lake was lashed white with the 
 raging wind, and drenched us now and again with the tossings of its spray. 
 Balloch Pier reached, the railway station was sought, and a few hours steam- 
 power landed me in Auld Reekie, to rest a couple of days at home before 
 making for the shores of Clyde. 
 
 SHE MORE GLEN, LOCH LOMOND-SIDE. 
 
CLIFFS, WEST COAST OF ARRAN, 
 
 CHAPTER WTIY. 
 
 A nicut of restless tossing, snatchings of brief seasons of sleep, and fitful 
 wakings, preceded the morning of my departure for the West Coast. I heard 
 the clock strike each successive hour, and I fear my mother fared no better, for 
 she had promised to wake her (in ordinary circumstances) sleepy-headed son. 
 At grey of dawn my place in Blanket Bay was vacant; the Rambler had left 
 his moorings, and was scudding under full sail, with knapsack and umbrella, for 
 the Caledonian Station at the west end of Princes Street. Nor had he to wait 
 long there for the train running in connection with the sailing of the “Iona” 
 steamship from Greenock. 
 
 The morning was one of the greyest of the grey, and soon the promise of 
 
 52 
 
 ' 
 ‘ 
 | 
 . 
 | 
 . 
 : 
 
Greenock and the Clyde. 
 
 much rain was bountifully fulfilled, and our outlook, as our train sped past the 
 town, the village, the moor, and the farm, was all mantled in the dense folds 
 of the big rain-clouds. Greenock does not seem a very inviting place for the 
 pleasure-seeker at any time; in rainy weather its attractions are not heightened. 
 It is ever associated in my mind with a scene I witnessed there many years ago. 
 It was the evening of a fortnightly pay Friday, and the working people, who 
 had spent a per-centage of their earnings in the public houses, were gathered 
 en masse in front of the railway ticket office, to purchase tickets for the “ stand- 
 up Carriages” (carriages in which there were no seats), to convey them to 
 Glasgow ; they hooted, yelled, swore, crushed, and fought like fiends, and the 
 depraved look engraved on many faces made one shudder. When we see sin 
 unmasked now and again, and reigning even for a few minutes unrestrained, we 
 get a faint idea of its extreme hatefulness and loathsomeness. Surely the way 
 of transgressors is hard, and stands out in striking contrast to the ways of the 
 Lord, which are experienced by those who walk therein to be pleasant and 
 peaceful. 
 
 I do not doubt for one moment that, in addition to the merit of its position 
 in the commercial world, Greenock has, within easy access, many lovely nooks 
 of interest to lovers of nature. The view looking out on the river is often a 
 scene of singular beauty. I have spent an hour on a sunny summer morn asa 
 fleet of noble and some humbler ships were basking in the genial rays, a blue- 
 sky-reflecting river was enwreathed by mellow-tinted mists: in the stillness of 
 that morn they lay waiting the waking of a favourable breeze. The Clyde is a 
 theme I am unable in the limits of the present Rambles to enlarge on; at a not 
 distant date I may explore the river and the Firth alike, and portray the salient 
 features of the western metropolis. Meantime, the Arran-bound steamboat 
 came alongside the wharf, and we sailed under the rain-shower out of the river 
 into the Firth, seeing nothing of the landscape that lay on either shore, save 
 when we called at one of the fashionable watering-places to land and embark 
 passengers. Our company looked far from cheerful, yet below decks would 
 have proved the greater of two evils, and so the majority remained above. 
 
 As we neared Arran the clouds became denser, and in turn cast deep 
 shadows over the Firth and the Arran coast, or were lit up with a glow of 
 intensely bright sunlight; while the glory of Arran, its mountain-peaks, were 
 lost amid the clouds that enshrouded them. On landing I sought for the 
 cottage occupied by the Duke of Hamilton’s piper, in which some friends had 
 
 03 
 
Martha's Boat-house. 
 
 found most comfortable quarters the season before. I found it pre-occupied 
 by a little company of artists, either professional or amateur, who made use of 
 the rainy day by camping in the coach-house to sketch from its shelter a fine 
 group of trees, with some good foreground rock and bracken, all within a stone- 
 throw of the cottage. The piper’s little girl was mounted on horseback, and 
 dispatched to Brodick in quest of a lodging, and returned with the news that 
 there was a spare room at the “Boat-house.” The Boat-house became my 
 
 THE BOAT-HOUSE, BRODICK, ARRAN. 
 
 roosting-place while under the shadow of the mighty mountain of the wind, 
 “Goat Fell.” The lady of the house loved to be called by her Christian name, 
 Martha, and she was not without traits in her character we are prone to asso- 
 ciate with the name. She was careful and troubled about many things. In the 
 summer season her troubles were born of her prosperity. Like the woman famed 
 in the bairns’ rhyme, “who lived in a shoe, and had so many children she did 
 not know what to do,” Martha in her Boat-house kept so many lodgers—the 
 cooking of meals, making of beds, and washing of linen for such a host made 
 her often remark, “I have so much wark, I dinna know what to do first aang 
 then she had a husband to work for. ‘“There’s poor Archie, he canna dae a 
 han’s turn for himsel’, and I’ve to earn every bite o’ bread he eats.” 
 
 Yet Martha was a woman of courage, and she succeeded nobly in satisfying 
 her hungry lodgers with wholesome fare, and spreading for them sheets a 
 prince might fold around him ; and though the body was often weak, the spirit 
 was lively, and soon found a way whereby to mount with ease over any 
 
 54 
 
Martha’s Troubles and Pensioners. 
 
 difficulty that might arise in the government of her household or the enter- 
 tainment of her hospices. Her castle was quite unique in regard to construc- 
 tion, and the site was a novel one. It was built so very near the sea that it 
 had narrowly escaped being carried away in high tides, and doubtless would 
 have been altogether afloat but for its having a foundation of some two feet 
 and a half of stone. On one occasion the tide had risen so far before they 
 were roused to a sense of their danger that escape was impossible, and it 
 was a period of intense suspense inside while the waters were rising higher 
 above the stool, the chair, the bed, above the table-top. She had a darling 
 grandchild staying with her: to quell his fears she solaced him with some 
 whiskey, kept in the house for medicine, and the poor lad was soon quite drunk, 
 When Martha felt worn out, and had taken a little medicine, she would tell us 
 all about her darling boy and his sad end, and never without asking that she 
 might be forgiven for hating the man she believed had caused his death. 
 
 “‘My darlin’ boy, he went to sea, and the ship was wrecked, and he, my 
 darlin’ boy, went down wi’ the ship, and the last words he said were, ‘ Murder! 
 murder! grandmother! grandmother!’ When the ship sprang a leak they 
 took to the boats, and after they were all in the captain sent Angus back to 
 his cabin for the cash-box, and after the boy threw it to him, he cut the rope, 
 the ship gave a lurch, and my boy went down with the ship, shouting out, 
 ‘Murder! murder! grandmother! grandmother!’ And God forgi’e me for 
 wishing the captain ill, the murderer !” 
 
 Such was her tale, and doubtless it had some foundation. The lad had 
 been brought up by her as her own, and had cheered many lonesome hours 
 in her seaward-looking cabin. He was drowned at sea; but I fear conjecture 
 _and a frenzied imagination had not a little to do with creating and giving 
 vividness to the particulars that rendered the memory of his fate sosad. Dear 
 old Martha had much of the milk of human kindness about her; she had 
 pensioners who shared with her such things as she had: one was a lame robin 
 redbreast, who came and sat on a bush opposite the door till he was fed ; 
 another was a pigeon whose cot was quite a mile away: she too looked fora 
 meal on every visit, and after gathering her crop-full, would wing her flight 
 over the fields and houses home to her cot. From the sketch my reader will 
 discover why this sea-cot was called the Boat-house: an upturned boat forms 
 the roof, and under this roof is the but and the ben, the kitchen and the 
 parlour, each boasting its own snug box-bed. ‘The kitchen had one small win- 
 
 55 
 
The Surroundings of the Boat-house. 
 
 dow, the parlour two, one looking out over Brodick Bay, the other inland ; joined 
 to this main building were various outhouses, each having.a door, a window, a 
 box-bed, a small deal table, a candlestick, and a wash-basin of its own: these 
 were let for the most part to single gentlemen, though now and again she had 
 also lady lodgers. The surroundings were full of interest: in the foreground 
 we had Martha’s pig-store, where she kept a varied assortment of china and 
 earthenware ; it also was roofed by the remains of an old pleasure boat ; 
 
 GLEN RUSA MOUNTAINS, FROM BRODICK BAY, ISLE OF ARKAN. 
 
 Martha’s cabbage garden and potato plot, and Martha’s hen-house, where the 
 roosters were alike honoured by having a boat-house of their own. A bank 
 of sand separated between the sea and an inner expanse of shore, in which the 
 bed of Rossie Burn was pillowed among undulating slopes clad with a 
 profusion of sea-grasses; at full tide it seemed like a fresh-water lake, at ebb 
 tide but a marshy waste, only the stream meandering along its time-worn 
 groove. . 
 
 To the left was the village of Brodick, its hotel, its pier, its many boats and 
 
 rock-girt shore, and the hill that divides Brodick from Lamlash Bay and Holy 
 56 
 
Brodick Bay. 
 
 Isle. The whole bay is girded with hills, and the serrated peaks at eventide 
 acquire a semblance of increased height; and reflected in the bay, Goat Fell 
 and Glen Rosa mountains draw the eye to linger long at their rugged grandeur 
 —lovers walk softly and admire, while you listen to the plash of the shore- 
 gliding boats, and the song or the hymn that is breathed in the air by sweet 
 voices, I trust attuned by hearts in sympathy with the songs of gladness. I 
 listened with joy to the airs of many of the hymns endeared to so many in our 
 land since Mr. Sankey visited our shores. , 
 
 Brodick is a good tourist centre for exploring the island, and is in daily com- 
 munication with the mainland by different steamboats. I will have a short 
 ramble to Lamlash and another to the top of Goat Fell with my reader, and 
 a more leisurely walk round the northern half of Arran before I leave it. The 
 day set apart for Lamlash trip was rather an unfortunate one, and brought 
 vividly to mind the 
 misfortunes that be- 
 fell my respected 
 drawing-master, who 
 
 came to paint the 
 Arran hills, but was 
 
 day after day,through 
 stress of weather, 
 confined to the sub- 
 ject of the picture 
 
 HOLY ISLE, 
 
 that figured on the 
 
 walls of the Royal 
 
 Scottish Academy in the following February, entitled, “ My Lodgings in Arran,” 
 for it rained constantly and heavily. I chose the road nearest the coast, and 
 had many refreshing bits of dripping leafage and cliff and rural cottage retreat 
 by the way ; and after the hill was rounded, I got a very shadowy view of Lam- 
 lash Bay and Holy Isle. The latter did not suffer much from being so com- 
 pletely swathed in the cloudy spell ; but the rather loomed great in size, and 
 gave imagination licence to fill in details of majestic proportions. The potato- 
 diggers were as wet as if they had been bathed in the bay with their clothes on. 
 It was fair-day, and, despite the weather, the muddy road was thronged by 
 eager folks from the rural districts, who were witnessing the competition for 
 prizes, being adjudged to the horses that looked in the best condition, and who 
 
 57 8 
 
Lamlash Fatr. 
 
 when running and trotting did not belie their looks; others were among the 
 sheep-pens, and many fine specimens were ticketed with either a prize card or 
 “honourable mention.” The sole competitors in the swine department was a 
 big lanky sow and her large family of young porkers. The mother was adjudged 
 the first prize, the litter the second. The cattle had their stance a little distance 
 away, and had been judged earlier in the day. The inns were redolent of 
 whiskey and whiskey songs ; many carts and gigs were wailing on the roadside, 
 and in an hour or two Lamlash would be as quiet as is its wont, and the visitor 
 of the season could enjoy his walk with his cousins, undisturbed by runaway 
 animals and the gaze of the sons of the soil. I nearly omitted to mention that 
 two young men passed through the streets, bearing in triumph between them, 
 hanging on a rod, the body of an adder, about two feet long and one inch in 
 circumference. 
 
 The map discovered to me an inland road to Brodick. It proved a very 
 rural path among silver birches and rocky braes, and the walking was literally 
 in a water-course the whole way, and it was as comfortable to be walking in two 
 or three inches of water as in one, so I abandoned myself to a straightforward 
 walk, and it was quite enjoyable: the whole of the sylvan scenery was glittering 
 in gorgeous freshness of colour, and in among the brackens, the brambles, the 
 birches, the firs, the grasses, rocks, and broken soil, were a continual feast of 
 such bits as feed with joy the artistic eye, but challenge his power to imitate, 
 and so to translate that he who looks upon the painting may breathe in sympathy 
 with the scene in nature. 
 
 In Fullerton’s “ Gazetteer of Scotland,” Goat Fell is briefly described thus : 
 “ A magnificent mountain, 2,865 feet high, on the north-east seaboard of the 
 island of Arran. It contains many superb close scenes among its shoulders 
 and skirts, forms a sublime feature in the scenery of the Firth of Clyde, and 
 commands from its summit perfectly thrilling views both of the rugged moun- 
 tain masses in its immediate vicinity, and of vast part of the west of Scotland, 
 away to the farther side of the Insh Channel.” Nor does the gazetteer over- 
 state the merits of Goat Fell. After gazing admiringly at his stately proportion 
 from the Boat-house, and being satisfied that he had around him a sufficient 
 power of wind to clear himself from the clouds so prone to cling to him, I per- 
 suaded two divinity students, fellow-lodgers in Martha’s hotel, to visit the top 
 of the mountain with me. We took it quite leisurely, though we did stray far 
 from the regular path, and as a penalty had quite a protracted season of wading 
 
 58 
 
VIEW FROM THE TOP OF GOAT FELL. 
 
Ascent of Goat fell. 
 
 over marshy ground and rough heather, in considerable ambiguity as to the 
 direction of the beaten path; but we were in no doubt as to the position of the 
 point we had to reach, and kept our eyes steadily towards a mark on the moun- 
 tain-side we had observed carefully from Brodick as the beginning of the ascent 
 proper. The first fellow-mountaineer we met was the Duke’s horse, who pre- 
 ferred leaving the man-servant to have for once in his life the privilege of 
 carrying the master’s saddle. The pony seemed as if not altogether a stranger 
 to the appreciation of humour, he looked around so knowingly at the varied 
 plans Dugald adopted to get within reach. Turn-about is fair play, and Dugald 
 was thoroughly welcome to try how the saddle fitted his own back, and the 
 ioble Duke to carry himself to the castle. The clambering over the great 
 boulders was good exercise. We halted a few minutes under the shelving 
 rocks below the summit, and partook of the cooling stream that trickled from 
 a hidden spring; and truly, when we reached the top, and looked beyond the 
 huge boulders around us on the solemn rocky walls, the jagged peaks, and 
 darksome vales, we were constrained to utter expressions of wonder and 
 admiration! There is a strange fascination about such a scene: its utter 
 desolateness enlists your sympathy, and frees you from all ordinary channels 
 of thought. You desire for the time that man would hush his feeble voice, and 
 listen to the breathings of a life that dwells among the clouds, and renews its 
 youth after those who, season after season, have climbed the steep, have gazed 
 awhile, and from thence returned to the plain. are buried beneath the sod. 
 
 I will not attempt to describe the scene, but I courteously invite each reader 
 who visits Arran and enjoys good health to make the ascent very leisurely, so 
 as to be able, without danger of getting a sudden chill, to have a long long look 
 from the top, of the corries, and the streams that dwell in solemn grandeur 
 around Goat Fell: it will be graven on your mind for ever. The descent is 
 rapidly accomplished ; the first part requires some caution, but when the ridge 
 of rocks is passed, you will find it a hard task to restrain a bounding progress, 
 enlivened by hop, step, and leap, according to the bit of ground you are clear- 
 ing; and your slumber will be all the sweeter after the little bit of climbing 
 and the race down the hill. 
 
 At the Boat-house again another ramble simmering. I unfolded to Martha 
 my design of starting at dead of night for a walk round the north of the island. 
 This she protested against very strongly, on the ground that she had known 
 many missed and some murdered who essayed to travel round that way in the 
 
 59 
 
Nocturnal Visitors. 
 
 night; not that she thought such dark deeds as robbery would be perpetrated 
 by any of the islanders, “But you see, sir, the island is very near the sea, 
 and all sorts of men are sailing round about, an’ when they ’ve spent all their 
 own earnings on drink, it’s hard to know what they ll no’ do to try and get 
 more.” 
 
 So I was persuaded, and planned a start at dawn. The preceding night I 
 saw the sunset in glowing red behind the range of mountain-peaks ere they 
 were crowned with misty wreaths; ever-deepening shades stole over the bay, 
 the river was darkened, the smoke from the houses died away, the window 
 lights were out, few voices broke the stillness of the night; the boaters had 
 left their oars ashore, and grounded the boats above high-water-mark on the 
 beach ; a waning moon rose above a mist-cloud and spread gentle rays over 
 land and sea; a ship lay bedded in the soft mud of the river-bed, and was 
 reflected in a still pool; the plash of the oars of a shore-bound boat was heard, 
 and merry voices sounded clearly amid the prevailing stillness. All seemed 
 asleep under the Boat-house roof :-.in my chamber the candle was burning, the 
 air was chilly; about two hours had to elapse before day-dawn, and I thought 
 I might as well spend them among the blankets. When the twilight began to 
 streak the eastern sky, I was up again, and fortified myself against the walk by 
 a repast of bread and butter and clear spring-water. This morning I found 
 one of the giant snails, who pertinaciously laid siege to my cabin, with his head 
 and horns buried in the roll of fresh butter in my larder; he was fully eight 
 inches long; doubtless in the French market he would have found favour. I 
 did not kill him, but gave him a place on the other side of the railing. These 
 snails had a provoking way of paying nocturnal visits, and wandered between 
 the wooden walls and the loosely fixed paper that decked the walls, making a 
 noise that deceived me into the belief that they were just about to leave the 
 wall for the bed-clothes, and that the next notice I might have of their move- 
 ments might be a cold clammy touch from one of them. Other friends I had, 
 viz., a family of mice, that delighted themselves performing running feats and 
 pedestrian excursions, that might have gained them fame in certain circles if 
 they had been men instead of mice ; and a sagacious hen in the broad daylight 
 was ambitious to leave a new-laid egg in the corner of the hole in the wall I 
 designated my cupboard. 
 
 I regret much that I did not at the time jot down a brief word description of 
 the glory of the dawn as witnessed when I came to the front of the Boat-house 
 
 60 
 
Daydawi. 
 
 and saw the bay.* The ocean was aglow with reflected light shimmering on the 
 surface of gladsome wavelets, while within the sandbank the water, with a mirror- 
 like perfection, reflected the varied mellow shades of the sun-illumined azure, 
 the phantom clouds tipped with ruddy light, and the varied features of the sur- 
 rounding landscape. The morn was redolent of peaceful life: one or two ships 
 spread sail to catch the first waftings of wind; the mists still clung round the 
 
 DAYDAWN, BRODICK BAY. 
 
 brow of Goat Fell, and lingered among the corries and glens, as I followed the 
 path that skirts the margin of the bay and the rver-bank; close by a Druid stone 
 that stands by the roadside under the shelter of a stately tree; by the tall fir 
 woods into whose sylvan shades the eye loves to wander; on through a wicket- 
 gate by a rustic bridge over the river, into the depths of a recess of singular 
 solitariness, where various trees environ a motionless river, whose waters stag- 
 nate and bring forth a death-like network or long green streamers : a film covers 
 much of the surface of the water; trees and shrubs alike show signs of decay, 
 
 and the clinging ivy spreads far his tracery of tendrils and legions of polished 
 leaves. 
 
 * Appendix. Note K, 
 61 
 
Suurise. 
 
 The main road regained, a few minutes’ walking had cleared the shade cast 
 by a fir wood on the right, and the road led under the massive wood-embowered 
 pile of Brodick Castle, as it raised its head in regal dignity above the tallest of 
 the sylvan monarchs; and seaward, the rugged coast was dappled with rough 
 soil, huge rocks, grassy mounds, and an array of whins that had almost out- 
 grown their kind, and claimed no longer to be left among the bushes, but to be 
 termed a forest of whin trees. I saw the sun rise above the cloud-bank that 
 girded the eastern horizon, and robed in glowing brilliance, his myriad rays shot 
 their quickening beauty-clothing darts o’er the whole scene ; while a thousand 
 wavelets reflected the brightness of his rising, as each responsive to his glad 
 greeting leaped with a morning bouyancy to hail him king of a new day! and 
 sweetly the cooler tones of the meridian canopy of blue, and the more solid 
 shades from the Arran mountains and the many-tinted shore, blended with the 
 prevailing shimmer of sunlight. 
 
 The road had no very striking features, yet it abounded in fresh bits of fore- 
 ground, fallen rocks, trees, brushwood ; now and again a little streamlet or a 
 leaping waterfall. The distant mountain-land was still under the cloud-shades ; 
 the rabbits were playing bo-peep all along the way, and many birdies lent their 
 cheery notes to swell the harmony all nature enjoyed. Muildon Hill rose in 
 shelving heights, a little shipping-place was near to a large stone quarry, and a 
 very huge boulder on the roadside is known as the “ Rocking Stane.” At this 
 point two quarrymen passed. I expressed doubt about any human arm being 
 able to move such a giant stone; whereupon one approached the boulder, took 
 a hold of it, and I saw it rock. He said any delicate lady, if she only knew 
 where to grip it and the direction to push in, could move it as well as he. 
 
 At Corrie Inn the ostlers were the only visible representatives, and the doors 
 were still closed; but at the village a number of the natives were astir, and 
 came to a little stone pier where a boat’s crew were exchanging for the coin of 
 the realm the sparkling treasure netted in the night season, and many of the 
 lodgers would have the freshest of fresh herrings waiting them for breakfast. I 
 saw not the stern grandeur of the mountains that rise so steep above Corrie, 
 and crossed in turn Corrie Burn and Cat’s Burn—content to leave for another 
 visit the beholding of the inner glens ; neither did I see the beauties of Sannox ; 
 and I left the eastern shore, and for the time being the music of the wavelets, 
 to enter a weirdsome glen of some eight miles long, that lay tween the east and 
 the west coasts. 
 
Loch Ranza. 
 
 I thought to have introduced here a Highland traditionary tale* with a moral, 
 from Mrs. Grant’s most interesting essays on “The Superstitions of the High- 
 landers ;” while the scene is in such perfect harmony, space prevents me, but 
 you will find it in the Appendix. The glen of yore had been peopled by ae aa 
 island homes, whose sites were traceable ; now it was a silent glen: the voices 
 were hushed, the homes were levelled, and only the barking of a sheep-dog and 
 the yelling of some one who, I doubt not, bore a human form—though cer- 
 tainly he had a most inhuman voice ; the strange wild gesticulations may have 
 been terms of endearment in Gaelic, but it seemed more like the echo of the 
 dark expatriating power that had driven from their homesteads the sons and 
 the daughters of the soil. 
 
 Loch Ranza opened to us a complete change of scene : there were houses, 
 a church, an inn, and 
 even the old castle 
 was allowed to retain 
 its site, and guide the 
 fishers in their home- 
 
 ward course. The 
 fishing-boats had 
 landed the catch of 
 the night, and were 
 spreading their nets 
 on the tall masts 
 erected for drying COTTAGE AT LOCH RANZA, ARRAN. 
 
 them over; a bridge 
 spanned the mountain stream that bounded towards the bay in wild leaps; and 
 all the glen, with its mountain girdling its steep precipices, its grass slopes, was 
 veiled in mystery—only the nearer shoulders of the hill revealed their naked 
 rock, and the outflow of the rushing stream told of the heights we could not see. 
 My fifteen miles’ walk had whetted my appetite, and therefore I looked with 
 no angry gaze on Ranza Inn, and, despite the large company of tourists air- 
 ing themselves outside, I made inquiries for breakfast, and was told it would 
 not be ready for an hour (it was now nine o’clock). This hour I spent in 
 sketching Ranza Castle. When the breakfast-bell rang I was going to make. my 
 
 * Appendix. Note L. 
 63 
 
Died at Sea. 
 
 way into the commercial room, but was told all the seats were pre-engaged ; and 
 had there been another inn within some twelve miles in the direction of my 
 proposed walk, I think I would have gone right for it; but prudence is the 
 better part of valour, and so I asked if they would kindly make haste, as I 
 could not afford to wait—that I would rather breakfast in the bar-room than be 
 detained any longer. This had the desired effect, and I was enabled to con- 
 tinue my walk. 
 
 LOCH RANZA CASTLE, ISLE OF ARRAN, 
 
 By this time the families staying there for summer quarters were out for a 
 forenoon walk: mothers, nurses, playful youngsters—some with towels for the 
 bathing, others with picnic baskets, making for the cliffs or the shore. A lone 
 grave, the resting-place of one who had died at sea, lay at a point of land under 
 the shelter of a rugged knoll: the grassy mound was decked with a cross of 
 white stones, and at either end an unhewn rock was placed to mark the spot as 
 sacred ; and on the taller stone was a square patch whereon the remains of an 
 inscription that bore a roughly-drawn cross and an anchor, and the fact J. M‘L. 
 
 died at sea—all else defaced. All along the coast the cliffs were variegated and- 
 
 clothed with luxurious herbage: there were upper and under cliffs—perpen- 
 
 dicular, angular, overhanging, sloping, and broken cliff; some with caves or 
 
 with deep dark fissures, and others with rocky outpost stacks; while there was 
 
 generally a copious crowning of leafy boughs, and many parts mantled in ivy. 
 64 
 
 —=S as, 
 
The West Coast of Arran. 
 
 Early in the day these westward-looking cliffs were in shadow, and a grateful 
 shade it proved, for the sun’s rays were exceedingly powerful. Sandy bays 
 invited the bather to plunge in the clear cool waters; boating parties found 
 no breeze to fill the sail, and rowed lazily around the coast. A solitary fern- 
 gatherer was filling his basket with specimens. A wooden mansion was quite 
 an inviting residence: it consisted of the saloon of a large ship that must 
 have been wrecked in the neighbourhood. ‘There was a square kirk, and two 
 neglected burying-grounds, where the memorial stones were in most cases 
 overtopped by a rank growth of fern and weed. When the sun rose in its 
 meridian power the heat became oppressive, and I was glad to take a path that 
 led through the centre of the island back to Brodick, content to leave the 
 accomplishment of a circuit of the island for another occasion. When I 
 reached the Boat-house towards evening, I had walked thirty-five miles, and 
 had given a place in the sketch-book to eight subjects. 
 
 I must now close the chapter on Arran, deeply conscious that the greater 
 part remains untold, for within itself the island contains almost every feature 
 of Scottish landscape, and a faithful account of Arran would unfold to the 
 reader scenes witnessed of a like character over the length and breadth of 
 North Britain. | 
 
CHAPT Tiwi. 
 
 FAREWELL to Martha and her quaint home; farewell to Archie, as he stood 
 looking into the shades of the mist-filled Glen Cloy, and breathed aloud a 
 prayer that showed he was not so dead to thought as he seemed: his prayer 
 was, ‘‘ Lord, prepare my soul for death !”—again farewell: may your prayer be 
 abundantly answered! Farewell to each glen, each peak, each corrie, and 
 every spot where Nature has spread the rich carpeting of her mosses and 
 flowers. . 
 
 How lovely all looked as the steamer sped towards the shores of Bute! 
 Holy Isle towered above the misty vapour that clung round Arran’s isle; and 
 the ever-varying outline of the mountains, as one corrie was opened to view 
 and another closed, was relieved against the blue sky, which gave prominence 
 to the serrated peaks ; all minor details were Jost in a mysterious veil of haze, 
 The sail was only too short, and after rounding Toward Point, we steamed 
 slowly into Rothesay Bay, whose shipping and surroundings brought to us 
 manifold reminders of city life: it was a strong contrast to the quiet of the 
 Arran hills towering heavenward above the encircling wreaths of mist. All 
 
 66 
 
Rothesay. 
 
 spoke here of man’s work—his enterprise, his pleasure ; stately hotels vied with 
 one another, handsome shops displayed in their windows all the luxuries one 
 might expect in the great cities of the realm. There was considerable shipping 
 traffic; many wheeled vehicles mingled with the throng of foot passengers. 
 
 ROTHESAY BAY. 
 
 There were untold numbers of pleasure boats: some skimming over the bay, 
 while others were closely berthed within the harbour, waiting the evening 
 hour, when they would be in great demand. There was a museum on the 
 southern shore, and the coast was lined by terraces of comfortable villas ; a 
 banu-stand occupied a prominent place on a new promenade, and at dusk 
 a large crowd thronged round to listen to the music ministered to them by a 
 ccmpany of musicians, what some call in Scotland a “brass band.” Near to 
 the landing-pier were some of the older houses of the town, and by climbing 
 a steep street, the old castle may be leisurely inspected, and it quite merits 
 a visit. 
 
 The island abounds in pleasing scenes, and a season may be well spent there 
 by those who desire to live near city comforts. The “Iona”—D. Hutchison 
 and Company’s famed steamboat—calls each morning on her way to Ardrishaig 
 vid the Kyles of Bute and Loch Fyne. Desiring to reach some of the isles 
 that le out from Oban, I embarked on board the “Iona,” and became part 
 
 67 9—2 
 
The Kyles of Bute. 
 
 Set leeeeoeeees a 
 
 of the densely-packed crowd of pleasure-seekers: the majority came for the 
 sail, and would return with the ship in the afternoon to Glasgow or Greenock. 
 A very agreeable schoolmaster from Ayrshire made my acquaintance, and we 
 enjoyed the unfolding of the scenery of the Kyles as we looked up Lochs 
 Striven and Ridden, and the army of hills that guarded either side of our 
 course. The pencil could not go fast enough over the paper, so quickly 
 changed the scenes. I enjoy sailing through the Kyles best in stormy weather 
 —not ina steady down-pour of rain, when a monotone of cold grey is every- 
 where predominant, or in a gale of wind with a cloudless sky, which tells alone 
 on the heaving waters ; but when blast succeeds blast, and swathing mists and 
 pelting showers career at large over the water and the land—now looking on 
 deep indigo shades and the whirling spray carried far o’er the rocky cliff, and 
 again seeing a glow of sunlight burst through and dazzle for a brief minute 
 every feature of the scene, till all is once more enshrouded in the dense foldings 
 of the wind-driven clouds. 
 
 As we near the island of Inchmarnock and round Ardlamont Point, and 
 enter Loch Fyne, we have another view of the Arran peaks; we skirt part of 
 Kintyre and Knapdale, and entering Loch Gilphead a few minutes thereafter, 
 we have left the “Iona” and the multitude of our compagnons de voyage, and 
 are either perplexed about our luggage or walking up a short brae to get a place 
 on board a very tiny steamboat that waits our arrival. The goods are sent on 
 
 by large waggons, and 
 meet us at Loch Crinan ; 
 while the “Cygnet” or 
 the “ Plover” puffs along 
 right merrily, and we sit 
 down to have a quiet 
 look at the bonnie bits 
 
 of scenery that are every- 
 where meeting us. Just 
 
 COTTAGE ABOVE CRINAN CANAL, 
 
 on the hill-side above the 
 
 starting-point is a little cottage—one of the large family of rural homes that 
 
 adorn the Highland hills. The young kilted boys and tartan-dressed girls 
 
 used to run a long distance on the canal bank in healthful rivalry, and were 
 
 oftentimes rewarded by having money thrown to them. — There are fewer 
 
 runners now: whether the halfpence have not flowed so freely from the 
 68 
 
 a ee 
 
Crinan Canal. 
 
 pockets of the tourists, or the youthful population has decreased, I cannot tell. 
 A larger number of bigger girls and women were in waiting at one of the locks, 
 where the passengers are politely informed they may walk for a mile; they had 
 large pitchers and small jugs, and we are all favoured with pressing invitations 
 to have ‘‘szvcet milk.” Sometimes a more matronly dame may preside at a table 
 whereon is a large basin of curds, jugs of cream, a number of strong dessert- 
 plates and horn spoons, and a goodly array of oaten cakes ; so you may thus 
 have curds and cream in the land of brown heath-~and if lovely scenery lends 
 a zest to wholesome fare, you should not fail to patronize this vendor of good 
 things. 
 
 CRINAN CANAL. 
 
 The little sketch of Crinan Canal shows the halting-place where passengers 
 wait to re-embark on board the canal boat. 
 
 Looking towards Loch Crinan, which loch we speedily reach and are again 
 at sea making for Oban, we crossed the north entrance to the Sound of Jura, 
 and sailed near to the Gulf of Corrivreckan, whose wild tumultuous tossings 
 are dreaded by seamen. Tradition states that here the mermaids were wont to 
 entrap luckless oarsmen, and a Gaelic legend affirms that a certain laird of 
 Colonsay was carried away by a mermaid, and in her dark sea-cave confined for 
 some years; he tired of his sweet partner, and persuaded her to convey him 
 to the shores of Colonsay, and, once on shore, he returned not again to his 
 
 69 
 
Corrivreckan. 
 
 disconsolate dweller in the ocean cave, and doubtless the sentiment was deep 
 engraven on his mind— 
 
 “As you pass through Jura’s sound, 
 Bend your course by Scarba’s shore ; 
 
 Shun, oh shun, the gulf profound, 
 Where Corrivreckan’s surges roar !” 
 
 The sound of this seething tumult of cross currents of ocean are heard afar. 
 Thomas Campbell the poet tells us: “On the shores of Argyll-shire I have 
 often listened with great delight to the sound of this vortex at the distance of 
 many leagues. When the weather is calm, and the adjacent sea scarcely heard 
 on these picturesque shores, its sound, which is like the sound of innumerable 
 chariots, creates a magnificent and fine effect.” It is supposed to be named 
 after a Danish prince, Breachkan, who braved its dangers by anchoring in the 
 midst of it. The prize he was promised was the hand of a fair princess of the 
 isles. Breachkan and his good ship went down, and tradition might have 
 added that this brave prince was buried in great style by the merry mermaids 
 at the bottom of the deep blue sea. : 
 
 We sail between Scarba and Luing, Lunga and other little islets: these are 
 called the Slate Islands. Those who take a look at a geological map will see that 
 at the northernmost of these small isles the slate district, which occupies a large 
 section of Central Scotland, terminates there, and is girded by extensive masses 
 of trap rock. The Easdale Slate Quarries have for upwards of two centuries 
 been a source of wealth and means of employment to quite a number of men, 
 —men who are also known for their courage in danger and skill as boatmen, 
 having frequently gone to the help of distressed vessels when they seemed 
 rushing to meet certain doom against the crags and rocks of that wild coast. 
 
 After a little rough tossing from our exposure to the open ocean, we sail 
 under the shelter of Kerrera, and look upon its rugged cliffs. Alexander II. 
 died in this island when preparing to take the Western Islands fromthe 
 rule of the Norsemen. Kerrera is as a guardian angel to Oban, and within 
 its shelter the fleet of boats and pleasure yachts anchor safely. ‘When the 
 steamboat touches the pier, you are met by a throng of canvassers from the 
 hotels and private lodging-house keepers, and not a few of the holiday resi- 
 dents, who look out eagerly, in the hope of mayhap meeting friend or acquaint- 
 ance or notable traveller. A bonnie wee lassie volunteered to lead me to a very 
 nice lodging. The respeeted dame who kept it was of the right stamp,—a 
 
 70 
 
[ 4 
 
 DUNSTAFFNAGE CASTLE, 
 
np eee aE Tae 
 2 an 
 Pied ive Ss 
 
 og 
 
Oban. 
 
 true kind-hearted woman, who looked upon lodgers as members of the family 
 for the time being, who were to be made comfortable and not overcharged. 
 There was another spare room, and I bethought me of my schoolmaster friend, 
 and he most gladly left the lodging in which he was about to settle, away at 
 the back of an inland cliff,—a most dismal place of abode, and the very last 
 place to be chosen for the particular man who was about to bury himself in its 
 seclusion, for his very life was wrapped 
 up in seeing and being seen, speaking 
 and being spoken to. Had he stayed 
 a few nights under that dark cliff, his 
 ponderous imagination might either 
 have given him wings to fly above it, or 
 have made him dream he was buried, : am 
 
 house and all, under its weight. He 
 
 could, by coming with me, listen to-each announcement made by the town 
 bellman, and see all the passengers that landed or embarked at the steamboat 
 pier. His power of making friends was 
 most marked. One day he was in the 
 bosom confidence of a member of the 
 secret police force from London, and 
 came home, the hairs on his head re- 
 fusing to be smoothed down while he 
 meditated on the terrible recitals of 
 London vice and crime to which he had 
 been listening. Again, he was deep in abstruse problems propounded to him 
 by an enthusiastic scientist; and another day the lady who kept the keys of 
 Dunstaffnage Castle led him to profound 
 historical research regarding the won- 
 derful Coronation Stone once in Dun- 
 staffnage, now in Westminster Abbey. 
 We walked together to get the view of ~ 
 the castle and its encircling wreath of 
 mountains, engraved for these Rambles, 
 and together we strolled past the fashionable throngs of tourists in front of the 
 great hotels, and clambered over a steep stone dyke to get a peep of Dunolly 
 Castle without subjecting ourselves to the penalties and pains promised to 
 
 71 
 
 = ———SS : 
 DUTCHMAN'S CaP. 
 
Staffa and Sona. 
 
 trespassers above high-water-mark. While I sat sketching, he made acquaint- 
 ance with some bathers, and inspected that big plum pudding rock known as 
 the Dog Stone, where Fingal tied by sea-tangle of Fingalian proportions his 
 fierce hunting dogs, while he made a fire of a dozen or two large trees and 
 prepared a feast. ' 
 A steamer leaves Oban on certain days for Staffa and Iona: it goes by the 
 Sound of Mull round 
 the north of that is- 
 land, and returns by 
 the south. To lovers 
 of the sea it is a great 
 treat, and affords 
 
 scope for varied 
 tastes. The route 
 has been described 
 to death, and there 
 STAFFA. have been so many 
 accounts of the lead- 
 
 ing objects, I am inclined to be silent till I reach some spots where fewer 
 pens have essayed to give to the world their portraiture, allowing the sketches 
 engraved to leave my mite of tribute alike to the noble natural architecture of 
 the Isle of Caves and the art treasures in the Isle of Ionic Crosses. 
 
 OBAN SOUND. 
 
 Many are looking forward with pleasure to a work that will embody the 
 loving and unwearied researches of Mr. James Drummond, a member of the 
 Scottish Academy, who has made Iona a special object of study for years, 
 Many artists are now drawn to it, and find that it has other attractions than 
 
 72 
 
 ~~ 
 
 4 
 if 
 q 
 
YAHOO ON 800 
 
 STAFFA. 
 
Isle of Mull. 
 
 the records of the burial of kings: they love to paint the children who come 
 to meet the tourist with wave-worn pebbles from the sacred isle, and also the 
 scenery of Mull, and the many lochs that indent that isle of bold headlands 
 and rugged mountain masses, as they are seen from Iona. 
 
 With iy reader’s permission I will take a step—not a very practical one 
 in real travel,—from the Oban-bound steamer to the “St. Clair,” a Glasgow 
 
 CROAG, ISLE OF MULL 
 
 trader, that calls at many ports with merchandise and does a lively trade in 
 the transport of cattle. Before she reached the precincts of Iona she made 
 the round of the Sound of Mull, called at Tobermory, where she was unne- 
 cessarily detained by some shippers not having a lot of sheep waiting; she 
 sailed up Loch Sunart, got on board part of a flock of sheep at Salen Pier, 
 landed them at Croag in Mull; and now we made for the Isle of Coll,—the 
 **Sandy Coll” Sir Walter speaks of. We got an accession to our passengers 
 there, and this rendered our company as much as our cabin could accommodate 
 with seat-room at meal-hours. We had a bachelor party on board, who were 
 out for a little merrymaking: an island marriage ball had wooed them from 
 73 16 
 
Drunk Celts. 
 
 ~~. 
 
 the desk of the counting-house, and having had a taste of the free air of these 
 parts, and being good fellows well met, a few more days of healthful roving 
 gave a gleeful appendix to the gaieties of the wedding. There was, as a 
 matter of course, a clever punster and an old joker, and no end of remini- 
 scences with a strong spicing of the comic element in them. The steward was 
 not left to mourn that his bottles found no custom: there was treating and 
 return treating, and one humble Highlander who could sing Gaelic songs was 
 
 ISLE OF COLL, 
 
 made the sink into which was poured the spirits bought by sundry odd pence ; 
 and, to the satisfaction of those who deem it a noble accomplishment the fill- 
 ing a man drunk, this Celt was brought into that pitiable condition, and mani- 
 fested the power of the spirits over his brain in rather a curious way,—he was 
 for kissing all round; which brings to my mind an incident that happened 
 while I stayed in a Highland inn. I had retired for the night and was about 
 to sleep, when a tremendous hammering at the door made some stir. I heard 
 the landlord’s voice, in its loudest key, in alternate threatenings in Gaelic and 
 English ; at last the door was opened, and there was a great change in the 
 tones of the voice outside and the voice inside. Mine host told me next morning 
 it was a drunk man who would not leave the house when the girl told him; he 
 put him out and barred the door; the man thought he had offended the land- 
 lord, and laid siege to the door with fists and stick till allowed in to kiss him, 
 which love-token endearingly bestowed upon mine host, he staggered home- 
 ward with peace in his mind. We had in addition to this party,—a doctor 
 
 74 
 
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 SCARANISH BAY, TIREE, 
 
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Trvree. 
 
 coming to visit his mother, who lived in Coll; a young Englishman with a 
 fishing-rod, who had left a medical practice for a few days, to whip the burns 
 of Coll and breathe the fine air; a minister’s wife; a retired minister and his 
 wife, both in delicate health; the Fiscal of Tobermory, who had a farm in 
 Tiree ; the Chief Constable and Sheriff Clerk from Mull, who came to investi- 
 gate a case of suspected cattle poisoning; and a young Glasgow teacher, who 
 came to be the guest of the Fiscal aforementioned. 
 
 It was Saturday evening as we neared the low-lying reaches of sandy shore 
 
 A SANDY BAY, TIREE. 
 
 and the outlying rocks of Tiree, and the sun was setting peacefully as our 
 steamer came alongside of the stone pier at Scaranish Harbour, and we saw 
 a sand-environed bay with some veteran sloops fixed in the sand—no more 
 to mount o’er the waves of ocean, and spread ample sails to the breeze of 
 heaven—left there, I am told, because it would not be deemed lucky to break 
 them up. A flag-staff was fixed on a sand-hill; some of the homes were within 
 the circuit of the bay ; a store-house was near the pier, and a large bare-look- 
 ing stone building, with slated roof and large windows, at the other side, was 
 pointed out as the Temperance Hotel—the only hotel in the island, and but 
 seldom patronized ; so those who want spirits find in the steamboat a house 
 “licensed to retail spirits, porter, and all,” and drouthy customers have thus a 
 75 Or, 
 
Sabbath tn Tiree. 
 
 special interest in the steamboat sailings. I got a room in the inn, and despite 
 the windiness of the house and the army of earwigs that peopled it, I was 
 very snug: a friend who has been there in winter gives amusing particulars 
 regarding the draughts that are vocal as well as felt in this palace of the 
 winds ; he found it ne- 
 cessary to nail up his 
 bed-room windows with 
 many plies of blanket, 
 and thus to allow day 
 and night to glide un- 
 noted past, for all was 
 dark—yet were not the 
 breathings of the winds 
 hushed ! 
 
 Sabbath !—a true 
 Sabbath, a restful day, 
 when all nature sweetly 
 unfolded her beauty ; 
 while man, unless 
 blinded, must admzre, 
 and if he has been 
 taught to worship, each 
 
 look at nature would a 
 
 note of praise call forth, 
 and pave the way for 
 prayer. There was so 
 much of loveliness in 
 
 every scene, my mind 
 DEOL O San was surfeited with joys : 
 
 how the far-spreading 
 
 bay, with its expanse of white shell-sand, was girded by a sea which placidly 
 reflected the blue of heaven; and how the seaweeds left their markings in 
 curious lines just where the last outgoing wavelet left them; the grassy knolls 
 girding the hollow of the bay, and the rock promontories, whose darker tones 
 gave force to the silver lining of the breaking wavelet. The group of cattle long- 
 ing for the cool waters had left the sand-filled grass and the sultry moor, and 
 
 76 
 
Tiree Ffouses. 
 
 stood among the smooth waters of ebb tide, and had their varied coats of russet 
 
 and black and grey reflected in the mirror of wet sand. A few church-goers 
 
 FISHER’S HUT. 
 
 took the near path over the sand, walking barefooted till they would reach the 
 other margin ; and then the Tiree cottages * all looked trig and clean, displaying 
 
 TIREE FARMHOUSE, 
 
 in the broad limewashed window-sills pebbles and beautiful shells brought from 
 the shore, and now and again flowers. 
 
 * Appendix. Note M. 
 
 Td, 
 
A Tiree Place of Burral. 
 
 The teacher from Glasgow preached in a school-house in English, and his 
 simple testimony concerning the position of believers in Christ, as he opened 
 it out from the Scriptures, was refreshing, and was most heartily appreciated 
 by the islanders, who unfortunately did not form a very large congregation, 
 for the bulk of the people are Gaelic speakers. In Tiree there was a work of 
 revival about three years ago, and credible witnesses gave accounts of many 
 
 marked cases of conversion. 
 
 MULL, LOOKING SOUTH, 
 
 It was my happiness to spend the afternoon with the Fiscal, his family, and 
 his guest ; and it did one good to note the intense pleasure our friend himself 
 reaped from sharing with us the gifts that loaded his own table. In company 
 we drove to a burying-ground at the back of the island, and saw an ancient 
 place of sepulture where there is a little chapel of unknown antiquity, and 
 human bones exposed to the elements: they are bleached beautifully white ; 
 some were as of infants, others seemed of giant size. Surely, the forefathers of 
 these islanders had been mighty men! 
 
 Monday was spent among the people, sketching one of the bays, the fisher- 
 man’s sea-side hut, the farmer’s house, a Druid stone that is the only repre- 
 sentative of what had been a Druid circle—the base of the others remain in the 
 ground. ‘There are still very many families in Tiree who pay no rent, and 
 
 78 
 
FALL NEAR TOBERMORY, MULL. 
 
Flospitality in Trree. 
 
 these have a settlement of their own, called “‘ The Moss,” where some very 
 poor creatures dwell, and must have but a miserable livelihood. I was led 
 thither by the Fiscal, who knows them well and is kind to them. The people 
 of ‘Tiree were very kind, and I had to take tea with a family who had good 
 English, and invited me to come right away and remain their guest while I 
 stayed on the island. Other cottagers the teacher from Glasgow visited gave 
 him a proof of their kindness; they presented him with a large basin of milk : 
 he took a drink of it, and would have left the remainder, but they signalled 
 to him to drink it all, and the old man stood opposite the door to prevent his 
 getting away till he was obliged, in answer to Gaelic gesticulations, to drink all 
 the milk that was in the basin. 
 
 The sail back had a lack of incident. We arrived at Tobermory at mid- 
 night, and had some difficulty in waking the hotel folks, but at last succeeded ; 
 
 and next day Messrs. D. Hutchison and Co.’s. steamer conveyed us back to 
 Oban. 
 
 AROS CASTLE, ISLE OF MULL, 
 
 79 
 
DUNOLLY CASTLE, OBAN. 
 
 CHAT LE Rv 
 
 Osan Pier is again the starting-point from which the “Clydesdale,” the 
 “ Clansman,” or another of Hutchison and Company’s well-equipped steam- 
 boats start to bear the traveller out of Kerrera Sound, past Dunolly, past 
 Dunstaffnage, across the opening of Loch Etive, round Lochnell Head, within 
 sight of the Lady Rock, Duart Castle, and the mountains of Mull; having on 
 the right the mountainland of Lorn, whose ever-changing forms fill the mind 
 with admiring wonder; on our left the Isle of Lismore and the coast and _far- 
 stretching hills of Morven. As the mellowing light of afternoon is deepening 
 into the shadows that the evening hour casts over hill and valley, and the loch 
 that borders the steep rocky cliffs, we enter Loch Leven and witness a scene 
 of singular impressiveness. The mountains tower into the warm glow of ether 
 in their deep purple mantlings; the trees have garbs of strong rich green; 
 clouds in the hollows ’tween the hills, out of the range of the rays from the 
 bedded sun, take a delicate cool reflected light from the calm space they look 
 up into; all is reflected in the smooth waters of Loch Leven, and you land, 
 thinking if you could fix for ever upon the scene the hues, the peacefulness it 
 wears, you might bring crowds to drink in its beauty, and return the better 
 
 80 
 
Ballachulish. 
 
 ————- 
 
 men for having looked on the picture. An omnibus awaited us, and we 
 got ourselves and our luggage stowed therein or thereon; but a place in the 
 hotel omnibus does nct guarantee that you will find a corner in the house. 
 An eager throng approach a lady who in great style bids you begone, for her 
 hotel is full, while the ostler outside advises you to try again. ‘She is only a 
 woman, you know, sir, and a little nervous, Say youll sleep on a sofa or a 
 table, and you’ll be all right. You see, she is a little put about when so many 
 come all of a heap.” One old gentleman took the advice, pleaded his cause 
 with the head maid, and got a place. I preferred to cross the ferry to the 
 
 MOUNTAINS OF LORNE, 
 
 hotel on the other side, and found there was a spare bed though not a spare 
 room. My room-mate happening to be a policeman, I was at a loss whether 
 to look upon it as a special honour or a special precaution, mine host putting 
 into my room a representative of the force. At table we had a pleasant 
 party, and were in a good mood to converse freely on many subjects, while 
 our waiter, a thorough cockney, who murdered and created the letter % with 
 ease, Claimed acquaintance with some students and an Episcopal clergyman, 
 in that he also was a fellow, though in another capacity, of Oxford. Many 
 engaged in collegiate service during the session come to the Highland hotels, 
 to reap a second harvest during the tourist season. 
 
 Next morning, in company with a student who was endeavouring to read up 
 and learn off portions of his favourite authors during his holiday, I started 
 
 81 11 
 
Glencoe. 
 
 o 
 
 for Glencoe; and as we walked by the way, he recited in-a very respectable 
 manner Shelley’s “Cloud” and Macaulay’s description of Glencoe, and other 
 snatches. We did not see the glen to the greatest advantage: the weather 
 was too fine. I give a little sketch of one of the corries filled with a big mist- 
 cloud. The large view of the glen was taken in the broad part of the glen just 
 before it turns eastward and narrows. I hope yet to visit this glen in winter, 
 in the snowy. garb it wore when it was the scene of such a sad and treacherous 
 
 CORRIE AT GLENCOE. 
 
 massacre as we are ashamed should find a place in the records of our mountain 
 land; but glad are we that the voice all over the country has ever been loud 
 and clear, from the day of its perpetration till this hour, in branding it as the 
 deed of one whose heart was set on fire of hell, and that it stands almost alone 
 in our country’s records. I met a man in the glen who seemed to know every 
 spot, and gave me the Gaelic names of all the corries. He described to me the 
 glen in a storm—the darkness that mantles it, the springing into life of untold 
 hosts of runlets, the careering in mad fury of the burns as they break through 
 and tower above the channel wherein they are wont to flow; the showers, the 
 82 
 
AIM 
 t 
 
 \ 
 ( } Hi 
 
 GLENCOE, 
 
= 
 
 ofS 
 ae 
 
 » 
 
 ee - 
 
 "Beat aoe ae oa 
 
The Eve of the Massacre. 
 
 careering of the clouds, the thunderings and the lightning-flashings, and the 
 artillery of the winds, as the air-gusts meet the peaks and explode in the hollows 
 of the darksome corries. He pointed out to me the “ Thief’s Corrie”—a dismal 
 place only accessible at one point—that point the apex of a rocky and almost 
 perpendicular water-course ; he said one man could hold the pass against five 
 hundred, and I inclined to agree with him. Now, this place had inside grazing 
 for several hundred head of cattle, so that the dwellers in Glencoe could harry 
 a goodly herd and keep them safely there. A number of Gaelic-shouting 
 plaided Highlanders, with sticks and dogs, might drive them up the steep hill, 
 and then roll a large stone to prevent their escape. Professor Blackie, whose 
 unwearied and enthusiastic efforts on behalf of endowing a Celtic Chair in the 
 Edinburgh University have endeared him to all true Celts, visited the scene 
 frequently, and has penned a jioem in which he pictures the peaceful unsus- 
 pecting joyousness of the Macdonalds, as they entertained the traitorous guests 
 on the night before the slaughter. I will quote his first Canto: 
 
 “©The snow is white on the Pap of Glencoe, 
 And all is bleak and dreary, 
 But gladness reigns in the vale below, 
 And all is blithe and cheery, 
 Where the old Macdonald, stout and true, 
 Sits in the hall which his fathers knew, 
 Sits, with the sword which his fathers drew 
 On the old wall glancing clearly, 
 Where the dry logs blaze from the huge old hearth, 
 And the old wine flows that fans the mirth 
 Of the friends that love him dearly. 
 
 “ Heavily, heavily lies the snow 
 On the old grey ash and the old blue pine, 
 And the cold winds drearily, drearily blow 
 Down the glen with a moan and a whine ; 
 But little reck they how the storm may bray, 
 Or the linn may roar in the glen, 
 Where the bright cups flow, and the light jests play, 
 Where Macdonald is master of men, 
 Where Macdonald is king of the feast to-night, 
 And sways the hour with a landlord’s right, 
 And broadens his smile, and opens his breast, 
 As a host may do to a welcome guest ; 
 And many a stirring tale he told 
 Of battle, and war, and chase, 
 And heroes that sleep beneath the mould, 
 The pride of his lordly race ; 
 And many a headlong venture grim, 
 With the hounds that track the deer, 
 By the rifted chasm’s hanging rim, 
 And the red-scarred mountain sheer. 
 
 83 11—2 
 
The Flermit of Glencoe. 
 
 And many a song did the harper sing 
 Of Ossian, blind and hoary, 
 That made the old oak rafter ring 
 With the pulse of Celtic story ; 
 And the piper blew a gamesome reel, 
 That the young blood hotly stirred, 
 And they beat the ground with lightsome heel 
 Till the midnight bell was heard. 
 And then to rest they laid them down, 
 And soon the strong sleep bound them, 
 While the winds without kept whistling rout, 
 And the thick snows drifted round them.” 
 
 Those who would like to read the whole poem will find it in the August 
 number of “Good Words” for 1868. Allow me to quote but one thought 
 more : 
 
 ““And on the hills a curse doth lie, 
 That will not die with years ; 
 And oft-times ’neath a scowling sky, 
 Through the black rent, where the torrent grim 
 Leaps ‘neath the huge crag’s frowning rim, 
 The wind comes down with a moan and a sigh ; 
 And a voice, like the voice of a wail and a cry, 
 The lonely traveller hears— 
 A voice, like the voice of Albyn weeping 
 For the sorrow and the shame 
 That stained the British soldier’s name, 
 When kingship was in butchers’ keeping, 
 And power was honour’s foe ; 
 Weeping for scutcheons rudely torn, 
 And worth disowned and glory shorn, 
 And for the valiant-hearted men 
 That once were mighty in the glen 
 Of lonely bleak Glencoe.” 
 
 I walked the glen many miles, and looked back on the few trees, lying far in 
 the hollow, that grow near the place where the massacre is said to have begun ; 
 while on either side were deep rock-lined, tree and fern-fringed chasms, leading 
 into seclusions and bleak mountain summits, one could spend long hours ex- 
 ploring. I then returned to the little inn where I had ordered dinner to be 
 ready at an hour early enough to allow me to walk back to Ballachulish in 
 time for the calling of the steamboat on its Fort William route. The landlady 
 was going out to see the workers among her hay some miles down the glen; 
 her man-servant (the Hermit of Glencoe) drove, and she asked if I would come 
 with them as far as they went. The Hermit lives in a small slated cot, with a 
 very tiny cottage window in it, in one of the loneliest corners of the glen. He 
 is about the inn all day, speaks broken English, and in acknowledgment of 
 
 8&4 
 
ly 
 ins 
 
 ih 
 a 
 
 SS oN 
 Ns NY) 
 
 SILVER BIRCHES, INVERGARRY, 
 
= Pad 7? PD are /* 
 ts 
 i eo oe he 
 
 z 
 
 7 
 
Caledonian Canal. 
 
 any kindness will show the suppleness of his old bones by standing on his head 
 for a little time. 
 
 The mouth of the Coe valley is unlike the bare and dismal glen, for it 
 boasts many sylvan monarchs; and a fertile strath through which the waters, 
 having left their wild dancing when they bade adieu to the rocky bed farther 
 up, now flow peacefully. The extensive slate quarries, and the long rows of 
 cottages occupied by those who work there, are a strongly-marked feature in 
 the day’s walk ; while many of the walls are entirely composed of slates fixed 
 
 ‘into the ground and placed upright: in the churchyard many of the tomb- 
 stones were slate slabs, with painted inscriptions. 
 
 As I walked along the road that skirts the southern shore of Loch Leven, 
 I met two fair ones, a Minna and a Brenda, walking leisurely, having as com- 
 panion a jackdaw. He hopped close to my foot, and waited till I presented 
 him with a bun all to himself, and he had hard work nibbling it and taking it 
 along with him to his home. Most of the cottagers in the neighbourhood keep 
 one or more of these quaint pets. 
 
 At a late hour we were landed at Fort William, and slept under the shadow 
 of Ben Nevis, and early next morning we were on our way to Bannavie to join 
 the Caledonian Canal steamboat, and saw in passing the picturesque ruins of 
 Inverlochy Castle, and all along Loch Lochy had good views of mountains, 
 and mist-clouds sweeping down their rugged sides, and noted the work of 
 the winter storms in the great gashes torn by the torrents, and the masses of 
 débris that had been quarried and broken small in those fiercer moods. One 
 feat we witnessed at one of the locks was the command the shepherd has over 
 his dogs, and the dogs over the sheep: the man stood by the ship’s side; the 
 sheep were scattered over the opposite hill. We noted one dog particularly as 
 he stood looking for the eye and hand and listening for the voice of his 
 master: no sooner was an order given than the dog vigorously obeyed, and 
 then stood stock-still waiting another direction; the sheep were thus driven 
 over the bridge and on board the ship in a very short space of time. I left 
 the canal at Laggan Locks, and was on soil with which I was well acquainted, 
 and soon surprised my good friends who stay in a charmingly wooded nook of 
 Glengarry, and had ample amusement wandering among the hills on either side 
 of the river. There were fine silver birch-trees on one part of the property, 
 and, by making my home at a sheep farm among the hills for a short time, I 
 became acquainted with some very wild bits of scenery, particularly the rugged 
 
 85 
 
Laddie Burn and Loch Hourn. i 
 
 banks of the Laddie Burn. I have sat for days painting there close by the 
 stream, but at times the placid murmur was drowned in the strong rushings of 
 the mountain torrents that came with a deafening noise over the rocky ledge, 
 and in dark brown water and cream-coloured foam o’erflowed the banks and 
 carried on its bosom the loose trees and branches that its force, or the fury 
 of other storms, had uprooted. These spates came suddenly, and as quickly 
 died away, seldom lasting in full power more than an hour and a half. Up 
 Laddie Burn, near to its mountainous source, were many wild rocky spots and 
 fine specimens of weather-tinting, and blasted Scotch firs whose figures took 
 fantastic forms: towards evening these trees looked their best, and when the 
 first frost bound the earth, and the first snow lay on the background hills, they 
 had a winsomeness that caused me to endure the pinching cold to give them 
 a place in my portfolio: unfortunately I have not one left, or a specimen 
 would have found a place in these pages.. Another trip worth taking is to 
 Loch Hourn, one of the most impressive of the grand chain of sea-lochs on 
 the west coast. I walked there, v7@ Loch Garry and Glen Quoich, a distance 
 of between thirty and forty miles, through scenes of engaging interest by moor 
 and rocky hill, and enjoyed days at Loch Hourn Head, filled with exploits 
 among the rocky shelvings and rugged burns, and rambles away for many, many 
 miles along the very rustic path that skirts the hills. If any landscape painter 
 is desirous of a new field that will unfold to him the finer features of Highland 
 landscape, allow me to commend to him Loch Hourn. 
 
 Loch Oich on the Caledonian Canai has considerable beauty. The sketch 
 of it I have in the engraving gives the view of it as seen looking south-west 
 from the hill-side on the south bank: when I sat there, many flocks of sheep 
 driven past on their way to the Muir of Ord market, gave a lively look to the 
 scene. Among the trees on the opposite shore are the castles, the old and 
 the new, of Invergarry. JI noted with much interest the number of well- 
 planned lovely cottage homes the proprietor is providing for his tenantry ; 
 little by little, so many every year, the transformation is going on, and they are 
 encouraged by prizes and other tokens of favour to cultivate flowers and fruits 
 and vegetables; but in some cases the tenants had become so fond of the 
 old crumbling walls and the thatch, that they would not accept a new house 
 with smooth walls, fine large windows, and slated roofs, all built with consider- 
 able regard for their picturesque aspect ; they would rather have the old home. 
 I doubt not in a few years the old homes will have disappeared from the glen. 
 
 86 
 
Tiff 
 
 ON THE GARRY, INVERGARRY. 
 
' 
 
 Pa 
 
 ca as wi %* 
 S) Sees Ran SO Se oO! ly 
 
Fort Augustus and Loch- Ness. 
 
 Though glad the people should have more comfort, I must own to have so 
 great a love for the old biggings that I will miss them, and would incline to 
 indulge in a little tearful sympathy with the old folks, who are wedded to their 
 thatched cots despite the redolence of peat-reek. | 
 
 “The Well of the Seven Heads” is by the side of the road leading from 
 Laggan to Invergarry, close to Loch Oich. I have sketched the sculptured 
 heads that adorn the summit of the monument, raised 
 in memory of summary vengeance executed by a chief 
 of Glengarry on the murderers of the Keppoch family : 
 after the heads were severed from the body, they were 
 washed in the well that flows beneath. By walking 
 round the southern shore of Loch Oich, many fine bits 
 of tree and shrub-clad and rock-strewn and rock-crested 
 
 hill-side are met, and some very pleasing peeps of the 
 water and the opposite rich sylvan slopes, and the stern 
 
 WELIJ. OF SEVEN HEADS, 
 
 bare corries above. ~ 
 
 On reaching Fort Augustus, when the steamer is being lowered in the locks 
 towards the loch, tourists have time to look about them. It will soon be known 
 as a centre of Roman Catholic influence, for a large monastic institution is in 
 course of erection on the site of the old fort. It looked dismal enough when 
 I saw it, as if given right over to darkness. It seemed altogether deserted: no 
 martial coat was seen, no sentry on guard, and many of the ancient walls were 
 being pulled down. A strong east wind crested the wavelets on the dark 
 bosom of Loch Ness, rain-clouds gave to each hill a sombre tone ; some rocky 
 crags and woodland had deeper and richer hues; while the foreground of 
 heather in full bloom, a corn-field, and potato and turnip rigs, gave other 
 colourings. On board again, the glories of Loch Ness open out to view as the 
 clouds are wafted higher in the region of air; a halt is made at Foyers, where 
 we land, pay toll, and follow the path under leafy shades, and look awhile on 
 the under-fall of Foyers as it rushes with deafening sound, spreading a shower 
 of spray over the gorgeously clothed rock environments. You look up to the 
 fount of this great flood, and see many sweet sprays of flower and shrub and 
 grass fringing the basin, from which it leaps down into the rocky river-bed, 
 where its waters circle and eddy and flow, mourning in white rage their fall 
 from the liberty of their joyous mountain life, and hasten to bury their sorrow 
 in the embrace of the lake that woos them with a gladsome sunlit smile. 
 
 87 
 
Lnverness. 
 
 The loch is followed by another part of the canal, and here the canal must 
 have been an expensive work, for the banks have required much labour to 
 build; below. we see the broad River Ness, and stately pines which have 
 weathered many a rude blast ; and when we reach the landing-place, hotel 
 omnibuses and cabs are ready to receive us and carry us where we choose. 
 There are many good hotels in Inverness, and also good, private lodgings. 
 
 CALEDONIAN CANAL, 
 
 It has annually a very gay season during the days of the Highland games, when 
 balls are held, for at that time from far and near there is a gathering of the 
 clans: the games were instituted with that purpose, and have continued to 
 draw together year by year Highland chieftains and men of note, and ladies 
 of rank, accomplishments, and beauty. Many notable marriages have been 
 arranged at these meetings. 
 
 Inverness has also had of late years its annual Christian convention. I arrived 
 there during the last day of it, and heard Dr. Bernardo pleading eloquently on 
 behalf of the children he labours so unweariedly to rescue from the streets of 
 our great cities, and also saw a gathering of the colporteurs gathered from the 
 north and west, to get a word of encouragement in their laborious work of 
 carrying pure literature into the homes of those who in numbers of instances 
 live beyond the reach of the minister and the bookseller. The meetings were 
 considered successful, and doubtless those who came to take part in them 
 would get a double benefit from the fine air and the healthful scenes around 
 that beautifully situated city. Long I have lingered by the banks of Ness, 
 looking on the town clinging to and rising above its banks; often have I gone 
 to the castle hill to trace the windings of the stream, which was ever smiling 
 
 88 
 
i i 
 AM li 
 ut 
 lp, ul 
 I 
 
 Nii 
 
 HN 
 
 Wy] 
 
 | 
 WH] 
 
 | 
 
 | 
 
 \ AA 
 Hi | ) ifn 
 
 | Hi | LEW fi | i 
 ly I Hi Hy oy ih hi 
 1 ae AA 
 
 T.OCH OICH, CALEDONIAN CANAL, 
 
The Islands. 
 
 back or reflecting the sadder tones of the sky, and to gaze on the distant land 
 of mountain and plain; and I have also spent many hours in rapt admiration 
 of the sylvan pictures that render the walk through the islands on the Ness a 
 walk of walks: it yielded a joy as deep as that I received from the walks on 
 Goat Island, within hearing and seeing of the rapid-flowing waters of Niagara. 
 The rivers are widely different. The Ness is shallow and peaceful, and the 
 murmur of its flowing falls plaintively on the ear, in sympathy with the song 
 of the birds, and the 
 summer tintings of the 
 
 trees, and the musings 
 
 of those who seem to 
 
 love each turning in | 
 the paths; while the 
 waters of the rapids 
 of Niagara make the 
 onlooker hold back 
 his breath, and keep 
 
 back as far as possible 
 from the wild leaping 
 of the swift-rushing 
 waters. 
 
 In passing through Inverness, do not grudge to halt a night to visit the 
 islands: if the night is moonlit, revisit the scene, and see it under the mellow 
 beams. Another place within easy reach is Culloden Moor; the railway will 
 take you within a few miles. You will have a real country walk and a fine 
 view of Moray Firth and Loch Beauly by the way, and mayhap a little seven- 
 year-old will lead you through curious windings among a forest of the future. 
 I saw among the corn one of the finest subjects a figure painter who loves 
 home bits could desire: a veritable Ruth, as described by Thomas Hood : 
 
 IN VERNESS COTTAGES. 
 
 ** She stood breast-high amid the corn, “Round her eyes her tresses fell,— 
 Clasped by the golden light of morn, Which were blackest none could tell, 
 Like the sweetheart of the sun, But long lashes veiled a light 
 Who many a glowing kiss had won. That had else been all too bright. 
 
 “On her cheek an autumn flush “And her hat with shady brim, 
 Deeply ripened—such a blush Made her tressy forehead dim ; 
 
 In the midst of brown was born, Thus she stood amid the stooks, 
 Like red poppies grown with corn Praising God with sweetest looks.” 
 
 89 12 
 
Culloden Moor. 
 
 The field still retains its sad interest, and the pile of stones gathered recently 
 to prepare for raising a suitable memorial have already got the grey lichens 
 and the tintings which nature gives, and it looks as if raised over the graves of 
 the slain. The moor is very bleak, and a circular patch is dyked off with turf 
 and hemmed in by a wood of young firs. ‘Towards evening, as the shades 
 deepened and the ground darkened, and the impenetrable mystery of the fir 
 woods was intensified, the scene spoke more powerfully of the battle which 
 left many of our kilted heroes on the field cold and stiff. We will let the 
 shade deepen into night, and under the curtain of night leave the scene and 
 its sadness, while we seek to have glimpses of other places made sacred to 
 us by other associations. 
 
 INVERGARRY CASTLE, LOCH OICH, 
 
 90 
 
 a 7. 
 
CULLODEN. 
 
ON THE CONON, NEAR DINGWALL, 
 
 CHAP IER’ VIF- 
 
 On our way from Inverness to the west. we went out of the train at the 
 Muir of Ord, of cattle-market fame. It was the day for the sale of sheep, and 
 we saw many little lots under the guardianship of shepherds and collie dogs ; 
 eager buyers were going from group to group, judging their respective merits— 
 now taking a hold of a sheep to feel his weight, and noting the quality of his 
 fleece. The market was principally composed of lambs of varied breed and 
 from many diverse parts of the country. Showers were frequent. I was not 
 in a position to judge regarding the character of the market in any particular, 
 
 9L Wa 
 
The Conon. 
 
 but was quite satisfied that in skilful hands it afforded scope for a good telling 
 picture. 
 
 I came out again at Conon Station, having a desire to see some of the little 
 bits on the river. The river abounds in such bits as the subject of the engrav- 
 ing, and has many finer; but the painter who would desire to do justice to this 
 theme would do well to ask permission to visit the grounds from the pro- 
 prietress, and thus privileged, go deliberately day after day earnestly to study 
 his subject. There are fine trees and lovely bendings of the river; some of 
 the trees are themselves subjects worthy of being painted. 
 
 Another little sketch I give my reader is the view taken from the stone 
 bridge over the 
 Conon, looking to- 
 wards its outflow into 
 Cromarty Firth. A 
 fine walk is had by 
 following the river- 
 bank, full of choice 
 foreground bits and 
 nooks of wild flowers 
 and _ brushwood. 
 When I was there, 
 groups of fine cattle 
 were grazing on the 
 
 FROM CONON BRIDGE, 
 
 rich grass, that made 
 me covet the power 
 of the animal painter. You may, too, chance to meet a young naturalist, who, 
 like the now famous Banffshire shoemaker, is pursuing the “beasties” he loves 
 so dearly, which love often cost “ Edwards” a high price. Any reader who 
 may not have read the story of his life by Smiles I cordially recommend to 
 make the acquaintance of this enthusiastic student of all the fauna within his 
 reach, and I have confidence the perusal of the “ Life of a Scotch Naturalist ” 
 will be esteemed by you no mean treat. 
 
 I find in my sketch chart for this chapter Lochs Pails and Maree as the 
 next points of call. Magnificent subjects they are; but how are they reached ? 
 Fortunately, or unfortunately, that is easy work now: the iron horse speeds 
 you along, past some very deep cuttings in the rock, as, after leaving Ding- 
 92 
 
Auchnasheen to Kinlochewe. 
 
 wall, you steam under the shades of Knockfarrel, which has on its summit a 
 very fine vitrified fort ; past Strathpeffer Wells, Castle Leod, Lochs Garve and 
 Luichart, through Strath Bran, till you reach Auchnasheen, where you change 
 steam for horse-power, and get a little exercise in patience, waiting in the 
 drizzling rain till the horses are rested, re-yoked, and ready for starting. One 
 Highlander was in a fix regarding his dog: he would not pay the fare for his 
 collie; the official threatened to take him—the dog—as a hostage; Dugald 
 warned him Prince would “grip him” if he dared. The poor dog seemed 
 to know all about it, for in fear and trembling he waited behind his master, 
 hanging his tail most ignobly. It ended in the fare being paid with a very 
 bad grace. Our mail gig party consisted of the Highlander who owned the 
 dog, a woman with a very large bundle, a young man just home from his 
 studies at a school in Germany, going to join a family party at Gairloch, and 
 two men I would judge to be shepherds, possibly coming from Muir of Ord 
 after selling their sheep. Our driver got the mail bags stowed away, and made 
 his horses strike out in good style. We had ample occupation watching the 
 play of the clouds over the sides of the hills, and the bits of rugged moor and 
 moss and flowing stream that enlivened the way; but at a turning within some 
 three miles of the inn of Kinlochewe, as we were about to pass the east-going 
 mail gig with its complement of travellers, our driver jerked the horses into 
 a ditch, which upset our machine and broke one of the springs. Fortunately 
 nobody was hurt. After the horses were released from the machine and the 
 ditch, we walked leisurely to the inn, only regretting that the clouds hung so 
 heavily over Loch Maree that it was completely obscured. A horse and cart 
 were dispatched for the luggage, and another machine completed the iourney 
 to Gairloch. 
 
 I waited at Kinlochewe. After dinner I wandered towards Maree, and was 
 favoured with a partial uplifting of the clouds, so that I saw the mountains dip 
 their stony feet in the wind-rippled lake, and saw one or two of the nearer fir- 
 crowned knolls looking their loveliest because relieved against bright breakings 
 in the cloud. The sketch in the engraving was taken that evening. 
 
 Next morning I joined two English clergymen early at the breakfast-table, 
 and agreed to join them in hiring to Loch Torridon. The gig held the four 
 comfortably, and we had a feast for our eyes all the way. I cannot express to 
 you the charm that hangs about a mountain like Ben Each as the mists swathe 
 its rocky sides; they rise, they fall, they whirl, they soar as on wings of light, 
 
 93 
 
Glen Torridon. 
 
 they cast shadows, they give grand mystery, and anon reveal some hidden dell, 
 some great bare precipice, or perhaps display a glowing patch of verdure. 
 Now you have castles grim towering to heaven; again, a storm-beat wall of cliff, 
 the mist surgings beneath imitating the motions of the waves of ocean; now 
 you seem to get a peep of fairyland, and think you see the dwellers in a city 
 of light: again, the veil seems as if hiding a very abode of woes, dark places 
 of gloom. I expect 
 each one will takefrom 
 these misty illusions, 
 creations congenial to 
 his own mind. I do 
 not envy those who 
 only see in them the 
 
 messengers of evil 
 tidings, forebodings of 
 rain, and who think 
 the landscape is de- 
 void of loveliness be- 
 cause the sun does not 
 
 shine—because there 
 
 is not an Italian sky 
 overhead, and that the 
 open car or gig he 
 travels in is not a Pull- 
 
 BEN ALLIGAN, LOCH TORRIDON. man car. We had not 
 
 only the glories of the 
 
 mist-workings on the sides of Bens Each and Leagach on our right; we had 
 Ben Latr, which was now and again seen with the deep cloud-shades falling 
 over his rocky summit and his tree-lined base. We saw in its sequestered wild- 
 ness, and girded by stately pines, Loch Clair, and viewed the untamed stream 
 that in turn feeds and then flows from it. Ata point about a mile above Loch 
 Torridon we parted company : the lad drove back to Kinlochewe ; the ministers 
 took the foot-track that leads over the hill to Shieldaig, —to stay at the inn there 
 overnight, and pursue their journey southward and homeward next morning. I 
 
 waited, to have the remaining part of the day sketching. The weather was not 
 
 very propitious, but I had ample reason for thankfulness. I had for,a season a 
 OA 
 
Loch Torridon. 
 
 sight of Ben Alligan, and am enabled to give my readers a look of that re- 
 spected Ben: Ben among mountains seems synonymous to a baronetcy or 
 higher honour given to human Bens, whose brain-power overtops that of their 
 rivals. Torridon was altogether different from what I expected. I had heard 
 it spoken of as the grandest of our salt-water lochs. It seemed a peaceful 
 loch, with flat arms of land going out into the ocean, without any marks of 
 
 COTTAGE, LOCH TORRIDON, 
 
 the rugged or the grand; but then the only view I can speak of is the out- 
 look. Had I been on one of those basements, how grandly might not the 
 Bens, whose features so enamoured us in the glen, have frowned! The more 
 vividly I call back the character of these mountains, I am the more willing to 
 credit the statement that Torridon merits a foremost place among our Scottish 
 sea-lochs. I am able to let you see a specimen of a Torridon cottage: if you 
 saw it in the rich colourings that made it glitter, you would admire it more. 
 A table was spread for me by a poor lame girl who lived close under the 
 mountain-side: she kept house while her father and mother and brother were 
 out at field work. Her brother was the only person I could get to speak 
 
 95 ‘ 
 
Kinlochewe. 
 
 English to me. As I was getting hungry, and the inn marked in the map 
 was some miles away, I asked the lad could he tell me of a cottage where 
 I might have a cup of tea. In about twenty minutes thereafter he came to 
 lead me to his own home, where all was spread out in very nice style, although 
 the cottage was a very small one and almost devoid of furniture or material 
 wealth. j 
 
 When the rain began to drizzle more persistently, and the day was nearing 
 its close, I deemed it wise to make for home; but twice I was constrained to 
 halt by the way,—once to sketch a rocky gully in the face of Ben Leagach, 
 and again to sketch 
 Glen Torridon to- 
 wards darkening. It 
 
 was very dark when I 
 
 reached the inn, and 
 
 I was glad to be in- 
 doors, beside a gentle- 
 
 man who was using 
 his holiday from an 
 important city ap- 
 pointment in filling 
 his basket with good 
 trout and salmon, and 
 
 IN GLEN TORRIDON, ROSS-SHIRE. 
 
 his portfolio with fresh 
 views of Loch Maree. 
 
 Morning scattered again the few guests at the inn. The gentleman who 
 fished and painted left for his city home, while I pursued my journey Lewis- 
 ward. We breakfasted at an early hour. At eight I was on my way, having 
 entrusted my knapsack to Annie the maid, to be sure and have it placed in 
 the mail gig to meet me at Gairloch. The scene from the heathy knoll 
 where I stood was, though grey, exquisitely fresh. Nature seemed meditating 
 whether or not to unveil the glories of the mist-draped glens. We saw the 
 carpeting of the low country, and the many objects that diversified its surface ; 
 the smoke from the shooting-lodge, the inn, the smithy, the merchants’ houses, 
 and the crofters’ thatched huts, rose in circling wreaths to meet the clouds; 
 a gentle spray of mist fell here and there, the sun-struggled with the cloudy 
 spirit to unveil the mountain ranges, the small birds chirped around me, the 
 
 96 
 
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 LOCH MAREE, 
 
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 ee 
 
Natures Pictures. 
 
 crows uttered their kaw, kaw, kaw! the water-wagtail blithely verified the 
 justice of his retaining that name; while I stood jotting a few notes in pencil, 
 the midges, fierce cannibals! came to break their fast on my cheeks; many 
 sparrows found their morning meal on the roadway ; a peat-bog displayed very 
 rich sparkling colour; the bog is full of tree-roots, roots of no mean propor- 
 tion: would that pictures had been painted and preserved of the glory of 
 these glens in the days when those sylvan monarchs weathered the blast! The 
 heather was fading, but some fresh bits still bloomed, and the light lavender ot 
 the blossom, and the delicate green of the leaves, the many-tinted lichens and 
 mosses, lent increased richness of tone to the deep purple and brown of the 
 uneven bog, further brightened by the sky light reflected in the many water- 
 pools. There were rough heathy knolls, rustic peat-stacks ; a roadway with a 
 border varied by rushes, moss, clover, buttercups, and some sturdy plants of 
 ragweed. A girl passed in travelling attire, warmly clad, a bundle on her 
 back carried ina shawl tied over her chest, a fine display of the bonnet-makers 
 flowering omher head, and armed with an umbrella of respectable proportions. 
 Glen Torridon was at rest in the misty shade. The river that flows through it was 
 hid by a rise on the near hill-side; but I could see the water-courses on the 
 massive mountain wall on the other side that flow into it; these wind grace- 
 fully and discover an infinite variety of combinations of rocky form. Their 
 sources are under the clouds; the cloudlets dip into them sportively. Who 
 could catalogue the colours or trace their bound on one part of the mountain? 
 it would be as easy to count the sands of ocean strand, or tell the numbers of 
 the stars. I stood looking a long while, trying to define the bounds of par- 
 ticular tints: it was impossible ; the broad masses I might, the niceties were far 
 too subtle. ‘The original has had many millions of delicate and strong touches 
 ere it received the glory it has reached. We know not all it came through 
 in the days of its upheaval,—the sculpturing the glaciers wrought,—the 
 eventful storms in its history each deep scar commemorates. Nor do we 
 know much of those who may, in the days when its history became associated 
 with human deeds, have lived, and fought, and worshipped under his shades ; 
 but we may trace the markings of Time’s brush as he dipsit in sunshine or pelt- 
 ing shower and weltering mists, in rushing winds and roaring cataract, or gives 
 the brush to stern King Frost to coat with fleecy snow and fix his colour by his 
 biting frosts. There is a patch of cultivated ground. in the vale, where cottage 
 homes, with their thatched roofs and whitewashed walls, stand, amid yellow corn, 
 97 15 
 
Tey) Maree. 
 
 green crop, and meadow-grass, in marked contrast to the rich velvety colours 
 of the mountain setting. The ridge of hill to the mght of Loch Maree as you 
 look from the south has a bold outline of rock; a torrent has cut into its ° 
 solid massive side, and worn for itself a bed in its bosom, while a huge 
 shoulder hides from view its deepest gorge; the hilly buttresses have richest 
 tinting of deep green, olive, brown, purple, indigo hues, pearly greys and warm 
 yellows; the water-courses are marked with purple, save where recent floods 
 have laid bare a sandy soil; perpendicular and overhanging precipices are 
 near the head of the loch ; many of the cliffs are crowned with heather, and 
 the steep slopes relieved by a rich growth of ferns, flourishing most when they 
 enjoy a southern exposure. 
 
 I have a few notes jotted down on the spot: § believe they will be more 
 suggestive to the reader if I give them as I find them in the note-book. I 
 passed two wee lasses, a kilted seven-year-old boy, and an old man, with a 
 strong staff, faded coat, careworn face, and weather-worn hat. A rocky defile, 
 a quiet glen, with feathery larches ; the pass between Ben.Sleoch and Fin Ben 
 a little battalion of silver birches, as if climbing up; firs guard the pass; 
 plentiful supply of stony dérzs ready for ammunition. The heather was deep 
 purple, the débrzs a purple grey, and the hollow inside the pass still wre a 
 delicate green, while the multitude of the bracken clan were clothed in orange 
 and buff. A hill is seen behind; on the near side a wondrous range of cliffs 
 boldly looked out over a forest of firs ; falls trickled down their weather-darkened 
 sides ; the dense mist-clouds met them only in. fitful intervals, revealing a little 
 of their sternness. The firs are of noble rank, and proudly claim their place 
 as monarchs of the lake; while the birches are contented to claim less exalted 
 places, and give grace and beauty to the ranks as their glancing silver-coated 
 armour shines, and their gay plumage, green and golden, waves in the breeze. 
 A lower line of hills lay between the cliffs and Lake Maree: faded leaves form 
 a fringe to its borders. Sleoch remained with his head buried in the clouds. 
 The silver birches seemed to have characters as varied as the figures of the 
 men we meet: I noted very many with a foreground and background quite 
 distinct, each a complete picture.—But I must not weary my reader with an 
 endless catalogue of items. As we advanced we found more open country, and 
 got a more extended view of the truly marvellous cliff mountains, hid from our 
 view before by the trees we were among; we come to the wild Grudie Burn— 
 pine-trees waved in fantastic lines their arms over the rock-embedded waters, 
 
 98 
 
Y MT 
 ZA 
 ZANTE 
 
 RAVINE, LOCH MAREE-SIDE, 
 
1: Oaeres 
 
 wpe’ 
 
 a4 |! 
 
 . 
 
ae: 
 
 Povsoning a Shepherd. 
 
 as if listening to their songs, gathered amid the desolation reigning among 
 the peaks. As I looked at it, I got a peep of Ben Sleoch peering through the 
 big cloud mantle. Loch Maree in its glory I had not seen; it is said to look 
 its loveliest when the sun shines, with a blue sky and white clouds, and its 
 islands are set like emeralds on a sea of amethyst shade, when Sleoch is smiling 
 and the lesser mountains are decked in bright tints. I got into the mail gig at 
 Talladale, where a fine new hotel is built, and enjoyed much the drive to Gair- 
 loch. “The evening was very peaceful, and I was not inclined to ramble any 
 farther. I looked out on the sunset and the after effects while the light lasted 
 from Gairloch Hotel; and purpose, while I am supposed to be waiting the 
 arrival of the steamboat for Lewis in the smoking-room (which is also the 
 reading-room of the house), to glean for you a reminiscence or two of a short 
 stay at Dundonald, a place about twenty miles from Gairloch as the crow 
 flies. 
 
 I have a vivid recollection of filling our horse fou. In going there we had 
 the loan of a friend’s horse; he seemed very tired. We heard whiskey would 
 recruit him, but found to our cost that whiskey goes to a horse’s brain much 
 in the same way as toa man’s. At a very critical part of the way he began to 
 reel, and instead of his carrying us, we had to get out and hold him up, as 
 people do who have to oxter a drunk friend home. Another vivid reminiscence 
 relates to a shepherd, who imagined we had poisoned him. I had not in those 
 days looked at the real aspects of the drink question—had not seen the re- 
 sponsbility that rests on each one to be guiltless in regard to that which is 
 sapping our country of some of its brightest intellects, and killing numbers of 
 her sons possessed of generous impulsive natures. And so, a brother artist and 
 myself, starting for a painting campaign, had in our store a bottle of High- 
 land whiskey, labelled by my friend, who was a Highlander, as a precautionary 
 measure—“ Turpentine.” This bottle was the feeder of the pocket-flask, and 
 the cup we used was sometimes used for real turpentine in cleaning brushes 
 or like work. When wandering over the hills we met a shepherd, exchanged 
 courtesies, and offered him a glass. He drank it gladly, asking no questions. 
 The factor, who was with us, asked him, in Gaelic, if he knew what he had 
 taken. He told him it was turpentine. The shepherd grew pale and left us 
 at once, and tried to rid his stomach of the dread stuff, and thereafter went 
 home to his bed, expecting to die. We called at the cottage at night, and found 
 he was very ill, and it was not till the factor assured him he was joking, and 
 
 99 ii 
 
Dundonald. 
 
 that he had swallowed none other than the best of whiskey, that he rose from 
 bed, and Donald was himself again. 
 
 Dundonald is at Little Loch Broom, between mighty mountains, close by a 
 very fine burn. I have given one or two little bits—one a corrie, the other a 
 peep among the mountains, taken in a day of fierce blasts, when we crossed 
 the hill to Loch-na-Shallag, and stayed in a shooting-box till the sportsmen 
 came, and we shifted camp to a shepherd’s cottage, and shared the one sleep- 
 ing-room with our entertainers, and were fed in true Highland style—milk and 
 potatoes, tea, home-baked bread and eggs, and now and again venison. The 
 evening hour, when we were gathered round the fire of peat fuel, and the 
 collie dogs were of our company, was full of interest. We saw the first snows 
 fall before we left, and that gave a new charm to the very stern mountains that 
 hedged in the glen. 
 
 On the day of my starting for the south there was a funeral of one of the 
 old Dundonald worthies, and from far and near the Highlanders came in their 
 ample plaids and Scotch bonnets, most of them clothed in home-made clothes 
 of deep indigo dye. Overshadowed by very solemn mountain corries, and 
 under the ample branches of the trees by the banks of the river, they sadly 
 gathered, and then slowly carried the old friend along the path by the river- 
 side, to bury him in one of the. most lonesome spots near the head of the loch. 
 
 I will drop the thread of my narrative here: you may take it up again at 
 Chapter IX., for that which treats of Skye comprises recollections of rambles 
 within the last few years. 
 
 AMONG THE DUNLONALD MOUNTAINS, 
 100 
 
it Mil ‘ 
 2 
 
 C 
 
 OPPOSITE THE CUIRAING. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 I pesirE to allow Mr. Alexander Nicholson, a son and a lover of Skye, the 
 Isle of Mist, to introduce this famed isle to the reader by quoting to them his 
 Edinburgh summer song, entitled “The Isle of Skye”: 
 
 The beautiful isles of Greece 
 Full many a bard has sung: 
 The isles I love best lie far in the west, 
 Where men speak the Gaelic tongue. 
 Ithaca, Cyprus, and Rhodes, 
 Are names to the muses dear; 
 3ut sweeter still doth Icolmkill 
 Fall on a Scotsman’s ear. 
 
 Let them sing of the sunny South, 
 Where the blue 2gean smiles ; 
 But give to me the Scottish sea 
 That breaks round the Western Isles ! 
 Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome, 
 I would see them before I die! 
 But I'd rather not see any one of the three, 
 Than be exiled for ever from Skye. 
 
 101 
 
 What are the wonders there, 
 Stranger, dost ask of me? 
 
 What is there not, I reply like a Scot, 
 For him who hath eyes to see? 
 
 But if you're a delicate man, 
 And of wetting your skin are shy, 
 
 I’d have you know, before you go, 
 You had better not think of Skye! 
 
 Lovest thou mountains great, 
 Peaks to the clouds that soar, 
 Corrie and fell where eagles dwell, 
 And cataracts dash evermore? 
 Lovest thou green grassy glades, 
 By the sunshine sweetly kist, 
 Murmuring waves, and echoing caves? 
 Then go to the Isle of Mist! 
 
The Isle of Skye. 
 
 The Matterhorn’s good for a fall, 
 If climbing you have no skill in, 
 
 But a place as good to make ravens’ food, 
 You can find upon Scoor-nan-Gillean. 
 
 And there will you see at Strathaird, 
 That grotto of glittering spar, 
 
 With its limpid pool; where mermaids cool 
 Their brows when they travel from far. 
 
 There frowns the dark Coiruisk, 
 Which made the great wizard wonder— 
 Even Voltaire might have worshipped there, 
 Methinks, in the time of thunder ! 
 There towers the wild Cuiraing, 
 With its battlements grim and high; 
 And the mighty Storr, with its pinnacles hoar, 
 Standing against the sky. 
 
 Sail round the cliffy west, 
 And, rising out of the main, 
 
 You there shall see the Maidens three 
 Like choosers of the slain: 
 
 And go where you may, 
 With a new and deep surprise, 
 
 The Coolin blue will fill your view, 
 And fix your gazing eyes. 
 
 Pleasant it is to be here 
 
 Were I a sovereign prince, 
 Or professor at large in vacation, 
 I’d build me a tower in the Isle of Skye, 
 At the expense of the nation; 
 And there, like a sea-king, I’d reign, 
 But with a more gentle rule— 
 I’d harry no cattle nor slay any man, 
 But I'd drive all the children to school ! 
 
 There, in the bright summer days, 
 Stretched on the sward I would be, 
 
 And gaze to the west on Blaven’s crest, 
 Towering above the sea: 
 
 And I’d watch the billowing mist 
 Rolling down his mighty side, 
 
 While up from the shore would come evermore 
 The music of the tide. 
 
 And when the sun sinks to his rest, 
 ’*Mid glory of orange and red, 
 
 There will flash the light of a thousand spears 
 On Blaven’s cloudy head ; 
 
 And each turreted ridge of black 
 Is lit with a flame of gold, 
 
 As they hang on high, ’twixt earth and sky, 
 A wondrous sight to behold ! 
 
 With friends in company, 
 But I would fly to the Isle of Skye 
 To-morrow, if I were free ! 
 Dunedin is queenly and fair— 
 None feels it more than I— 
 
 But in the prime of the summer-time, 
 Give me the Isle of Skye! 
 
 Those who are well acquainted with this charming isle of the sea will have 
 full sympathy with him who, ’mid the bustle of city life, thus sings in praise of 
 his native isle. There is a wondrous fascination about this isle, not only for 
 sons of the soil, but for those born in scenes we are wont to esteem more 
 lovely. The Coolin Mountains have a mighty power in drawing forth emotions 
 of admiration and awe, and the appreciation of John Macwhirter’s pictures of 
 ‘‘Coiruisk,” in all its stern sublimity, by all classes of people, discovers a much 
 more general appreciation of the grander aspects of nature than we would 
 credit the ordinary picture-loving public to possess. It was seeing his picture 
 of ** Mountain Silence” made me long to see the darksome mountain-girt lake 
 in its weird lonesomeness with an intense longing. 
 
 I will suppose my reader has landed at Portree Bay, and, having secured 
 
 102 
 
Portree. 
 
 comfortable quarters in one of the hotels or private lodgings, is ready to bear 
 me company in having a look at some of the more interesting scenes. 
 Portree, or Port Righ—“ the King’s Port”—is not without attractions. I 
 have spent months very happily there; but my enjoyment of the place was 
 considerably enhanced by the geniality of the worthy postmaster and family 
 with whom I stayed, and the pleasing intercourse I enjoyed with some Skye 
 friends. It is the 
 centre from which ae 
 
 we may most con- 
 
 veniently start for 
 the Coolins, the Cui- 
 raing, the Storr, or 
 Prince Charlie’s 
 Cave; and itself is 
 
 charmingly set in a 
 cliffy, tree-clad nook, 
 sheltered by a huge 
 promontory that 
 stretches its protect- 
 ing arm far into the PORTREE BAY, ISLE OF SKYE. 
 
 sea, and looks asif it 
 
 fain would clasp in its stony embrace the other shore. The bay has an inner 
 and an outer bed, divided by a rocky knoll covered with varied trees, under 
 whose leafage and rock walls are sweet secluded paths where lovers may whisper 
 and poets create. This knoll is crowned by an open tower of a very humble 
 kind, from which a fine view of the Coolins to the south and the Storr Rock to 
 the north may be had. ‘The inner bay at full tide has all the appearance of a 
 deep arm of the sea; but at ebb its bed lies for miles exposed, and the natives 
 are wont to wade from shore to shore, to save the long circuitous route described 
 by the carriage road on the side of the hill; the outer basin is deep, and gives 
 anchorage to some shipping. The town stands on the top of a cliff, but the 
 water-side has also some ten or twelve houses lining its edge. At eventide the 
 harbour is robed ina garb of glory; the water is hushed to a lake-like stillness, 
 and reflects the cliff and its crowning of human dwellings and the trees that 
 fringe their base and rob them of their baldness. The cliff to the north has 
 
 fir-trees, one or two of which come in fine relief against the exquisite tones of 
 103 
 
Stormy Fell. 
 
 the pale twilight ; the clouds, mayhap, carried in circling wreaths by a western 
 breeze, whose powerful rushings are powerless to disturb the calm that reigns 
 in the sheltered bay, which reflects alike the shimmer of twilight, the fleeting 
 cloudlets, the dim lights from the houses, the branches of the trees, and the 
 rock-embowered setting of the royal port; while safely the steamer, the yacht, 
 or the small boat floats in quiet restfulness, casting into the still waters a reflex 
 image, in which each jot and tittle is faithfully reproduced. 
 
 iti 
 Mh inc if 
 
 a 
 
 il 
 
 | i 
 
 | it i 
 ai fh Hi os 
 " : 
 
 COTTAGES, STORMY HILL, SKYE. 
 
 In moonlight it is not less lovely, and some can tell of a moonlight trip from 
 the bay to Prince Charles’s Cave, of wandering by the cliffs in the mellow light, 
 and seeing the cave with the aid of strong torches: such trips are exceedingly 
 enjoyable. 
 
 There is a road on the brae-head, Portree, where you can see a number of 
 very primitive cottages: it is known as “Stormy Hill.” Certain it is, in stormy 
 weather, from any point of the compass you will have a blow on Stormy Hill, 
 and it does further seem as if it were tenanted by those who in the voyage of 
 life have weathered storms quite as real, —long sickness, pinching poverty, 
 and mayhap, in some cases, that very terrible malady when it becomes 
 chronic, a disinclination to regular work ; and their present lot is one of storms, 
 —few comforts and short allowance even of the needs of life within doors, and 
 the wintry blasts without; and failing health and increasing age give small 
 prospect of much more of the sunshine or fewer of the blasts on this side of 
 
 104 
 
Disciples of Fesus. 
 
 the dark River Jordan. As they are for the most part Gaelic-speaking folk, it 
 is difficult to learn from themselves much of their true circumstances; but 
 there are friends in Portree who would gladly assist any who would like to be 
 helpful to the dwellers on Stormy Hill. You would marvel to know that even 
 in that locality Sectarianism has raised its voice. I am told there are two 
 sisters who dwell under one roof, and cannot speak to one another, for the one 
 is a Free Churcher and the other is a Baptist; and that one gave to the other 
 cause of great offence, having put cream in the tea of the other when such kind 
 office was not desired. 1 mention the case of the Free Church and the Bap- 
 tist adherent because, although it is a very extreme case, it unfolds to us what 
 exists to a large extent in the Highlands of Scotland,—-a strong sectarian 
 rivalry. 
 
 I could lead you to a widow’s one room in Portree where a very different 
 spirit is breathed, viz., the love that thinketh no ill, and embraces by earnest 
 entreaties at a throne of grace friend and foe; one of those who are living 
 epistles of Jesus Christ, known and read of all who do not wilfully blind their 
 eyes; having nothing, yet rejoicing in having all things; able with Paul to re- 
 joice in tribulation ; knowing how to abound and how to suffer need. I spent 
 many pleasant hours with this invalid disciple of Jesus, and am persuaded that 
 such testimony of the power of Christ to sustain His trusting ones in clr- 
 cumstances of trial is more weighty in convincing doubters and strengthening 
 weak believers than elaborate volumes of abstruse theology. There used to be 
 a young man with a weak mind, who lived in one of the humble cottages that 
 skirted the inner portion of Portree Bay: he was known as John the Preacher, 
 and was remarkable for the sunny joyfulness of expression that lit up his spark- 
 ling small dark eyes. He often got a barrel out of one of the shops, and 
 taking his stand at a corner of the street, spoke long though not very connec- 
 tedly, yet his words were full of Scripture truth. The children loved John, and 
 few could do other than return a smile in answer to his, which was ever like a 
 perennial summer; and when one suit of clothes was worn done, it was a joy 
 to everybody to see John rigged out anew from head to foot. Some were 
 fond of teasing him, and tried to make him lose his temper ;. but that proved 
 fruitless labour. Sometimes he took preaching tours, and for this purpose he 
 visited the mainland. I am told his body was found by the roadside in a snow- 
 storm while he was on one of these tours. We have good reason to hope that 
 he is with the Lord, and is able to echo forth our Saviour’s words: “I thank 
 
 105 14 
 
Norman the Colporteur. 
 
 thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because Thou hast hid these things 
 from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.” ‘Then there 
 is Norman the Colporteur, whose brawny hand would grip you like a vice while 
 he shakes your arm up and down, smiles, gives your hand another hearty 
 shaking, and then smiles again in token of the gladness of his heart at meeting 
 afreend. And surely, when one considers the weary miles Hector has to carry 
 his pack of books, it is but a small good service to render him to give hima 
 little of that much more portable article, silver, in exchange for one or two of 
 the excellent assortment of books supplied to him by the Tract Society, whose 
 servant he is. 
 
 STORR ROCK, ISLE OF SKYE, 
 
 There are pleasing walks near Portree. One leads you to a lovely burn 
 called Scorriebreak, away round the coast by the Black Rock, and round the 
 cliffs where Prince Charlie’s Cave is; but I advise my reader not to try to find 
 that cave alone. I tried that, and, not succeeding, did not like to be beaten, 
 but a second effort proved as fruitless as the first, though it cost much clam- 
 bering up cliff and down cliff. The easiest way is in calm weather to take a 
 boat, and thereafter get the boatmen to row you to the point on the shore near 
 Storr; though I must sound a note of warning: a very stiff climb awaits you 
 in seeking to reach the Storr by that route. I went along the cliffs and had a 
 very gay time, being so happy as to have for companions and guides some of 
 the fair islanders, whose youthful enthusiasm enabled them to bound over the 
 heather and rock like the sportive lambs we met, and whose love for the little 
 
 106 
 
 =e 
 
Storr Rock. 
 
 objects of beauty by the way discovered to me treasures among the rock and 
 moor I might have passed by unheeded. Add to this that my young friends 
 had a native love of superstitious tales, and through a knowledge of Gaelic 
 had hearts that beat in sympathy with all the families who lived within a 
 great circuit of miles; and it is not easy to imagine a visit to the famed Storr 
 
 GLAMAIG WATER, ISLE OF SKYE. 
 
 Mountain under more favourable auspices. One particular more: we had a 
 basket with us amply stored with the choicest of farm produce by the kind 
 forethought of a mother’s heart, and we religiously restrained our appetites till 
 on the summit of Storr Mountain: with the glowing expanse of sea and moun-: 
 tain range and island, and the magnificent array of cloud landscape that floated 
 far and near, it was a treat worth travelling far to enjoy. ‘The path is not for 
 those who would travel with kid boots: it is often over rugged rocks and by 
 marshy pools: go prepared for these, and all is well. 
 
 107 14—2 
 
Midees. 
 
 The visit to Coiruisg I purpose describing is not in company with light- 
 hearted joyous Skye young ladies, but with a preacher of the Gospel—a doctor 
 of divinity deputed by the United Presbyterian Synod to officiate for a few 
 weeks in the little church they have in a'snug position on the wooded hill that 
 overlooks and guards Portree Bay. We left the town towards dusk, while the 
 mellow shades of evening gave a degree of poetic grandeur even to the minor 
 features of the mountain-side we skirted and the seaward-looking bay, and gave 
 to the ancient town and the Storr beyond, as both were calmly reflected in the 
 water, a visionary semblance that might have aided him whose mind was well 
 stored with legendary lore in creating an enchanted land, where spirit bands 
 might hold their revels and work their wonders. 
 
 Our way led us out of sight of the bay, and we were within hearing, and 
 also could trace, the rocky stream that coursed seaward from the mighty moun- 
 tains that form the Coolin range. I endeavoured to paint a picture of this 
 scene, but again and again legions of midges drove me from the spot: I got 
 a phial of essence supposed to keep them away, but alas! in vain. I have 
 yet to learn an effectual protective against the midge. I believe tobacco-smoke 
 is the most effectual, but to one not a smoker it would require to be a case of 
 hiring another to the office of smoking away the midges—a work many would 
 gladly undertake, for tobacco is looked on in the Highlands as a very great 
 good, almost as essential as the whiskey. As we neared Sligachan the moon 
 was shedding her mild beams over Glamaig and the other Bens. and gave great 
 height to their massive forms. We rested quietly and most comfortably in 
 Slgachan Inn, than which I cannot imagine a better retreat in the early 
 summer or late autumn, either before or after the great throng, who, coming 
 from north and south to it in the height of the tourist season, make it a place 
 of stir. Its proximity to the crags of the mighty Scoor-nan-Gillean, or “Crag of 
 the Young Men,” and to the stream that is fed by the waters that gather on 
 its massive ramparts, are a great attraction. 
 
 We rose betimes next morning and wandered up a small rocky burn. A 
 collie dog came to bear us company, and we were as if old friends. My friend 
 could not resist the temptation presented by a lovely rock-lined pool in the 
 burn. The sun shone with cheering ray, the heather was blooming. Ina 
 minute my friend was unrobed ; but no sooner was this accomplished than, as 
 if at a given signal, myriads of midges having all the vigour of youth covered 
 him from head to foot, and he wildly rushed into the pool to be free from his 
 
 108 
 
LOCH COIRUISG. 
 
Among the Coolins. 
 
 tormentors: he had travelled over many parts of the world, but declared never 
 was he so tortured before; on coming out of the water the struggle was 
 renewed in terrible earnest. 
 
 After breakfast we left the inn and got on the track, which, with care, need 
 not be lost sight of in good weather, except in haze or severe rain, when there is 
 danger at one or two places, where a ceaseless flow of moisture over a rich soil 
 keeps the grass so green and the ground so soft, no path is traceable now and 
 
 "i — 
 
 4 | oom cae 
 | 
 
 SCOOR-NAN-GILLEAN, ISLE OF SKYE, 
 
 again. It is truly a sublime glen: you can scarcely allow the eye to leave for a 
 minute the mighty mountain walls on either side (for some new scar, or crag, or 
 corrie, or leaping cataract is ever being discovered), and their charming varie- 
 gation of shade and tint among the mosses, rock, and grass, or among the heath 
 and the heather-bell. When you come opposite the still dark shades that dwell 
 in Heart o’ Corrie, you linger and look and look, and it is difficult to keep 
 from going into its solemn shadés awhile, to breathe but one short prayer ’mid 
 such stillness and grandeur, and to see the inner corrie the map tells you 
 hides further in. On the westward side of Heart o’ Corrie a path is traced 
 winding up the hill; it is reached by fording the burn that flows through the 
 glen. This is the path generally chosen by visitors going to Coiruisg, and 
 once the hill-top is reached, the guides are quite contented to allow the visitor 
 to see a small corner of lake. Those who know better will not rest contented 
 with such a meagre peep of a lake so singularly grand, but will round the hill 
 109 
 
Loch Scavarg. 
 
 rather more than another mile to the west, and when the dark lake is full in 
 view, sit down to drink a long look from that favourable point of view. On this 
 occasion we kept the path that led to Camasunary, as I was acquainted with 
 the farmer there, and had fear lest my friend might be over-fatigued if he 
 attempted the return journey the same day. Under the shades of Blaven* we 
 waiked, and when the waters of the Atlantic met our view, we scanned the 
 landscape eagerly for a human dwelling; nor did we do so in vain, for the 
 homely farmhouse and steading lay snugly surrounded by some patches of 
 cultivated ground. On reaching the house we learnt with sorrow that one lay 
 a corpse within, waiting burial on the morrow. It was asad house, but this 
 did not prevent our host exercising towards us the truest Highland hospitality, 
 and my friend, who was a man of large-hearted sympathy and knew the alone 
 balm for wounded spirits, came a messenger of glad tidings timely sent. The 
 deceased was one of the maid-servants of the house, and had only been a day 
 or two unwell when it ended in death; her sister in service was much grieved, 
 as also was the master of the house. Her mother was there and other friends, 
 but did not know any English. All came in to worship, and many of the 
 mourners would doubtless have each word translated faithfully to them after- 
 wards. 
 
 As there was a necessity for our being back to Portree on the morrow, owing 
 toaunited prayer meeting advertised for that night, if we were to see Coiruisg 
 it had need to be that evening, and a boat’s crew were placed at our service. 
 My friend must first have a bathe in Loch Scavaig; lovelier beach could not 
 be found in the sunny south by the shore of the Mediterranean: it was of pure 
 sand, and extended from rock mountain to rock mountain, and along this 
 smooth sand-bed the rippling waters flowed sweetly ; the only practical difficulty 
 was that there was no depth of water, and the only course open to the bather 
 was to lie down and allow the water to flow over him. 
 
 Although the afternoon had much of a calm beauty about it, we were advised 
 to lose no time if we would see Coiruisg. We got into the little boat, and a 
 short row shut out from view the little corner where Camasunary has its most 
 majestic mountain environment, and we were gliding close under rocky cliffs 
 at the base of giant Trodhu, a towering guardian of the lake, whither we were 
 bound : clouds, from whence we could not tell, were pouring down through each 
 
 ~ * Appendix. Note N. 
 110 
 
Loch Cotrursg. 
 
 rugged pass, and we were soon in a scene of mystery—seeing little of the stern 
 features of Mount Trodhu, or the shelving heights of Garsven, on whose massive 
 basement piles are conspicuous glacier markings. Our Gaelic oarsmen knew 
 every spot in the coast we kept on our right, and landed us at a jutting rock to 
 find our way to Coiruisg, in the hope that the clouds might lift a little and the 
 rain moderate, for by this time a wetting small rain was falling. The lad was 
 deputed to guide us, while the man remained to watch the boat and doubtless 
 enjoy a smoke. We were in wonderland !—a place of rocky mounds and crags 
 and beetling cliffs: a stone-strewn waste, carpeted with tufts of heath and grass, 
 and having little streamlets wandering over hill and down vale ; a steep rushing 
 stream, fed from the waters of Coiruisg, rushed towards Scavaig. After wait- 
 ing awhile, looking into the dark curtain of grey ever-deepening rain-cloud, that 
 hid from our view alike the mountain and lake, we rejoiced to discover still 
 darker patches of colour, caused by the sterile rock being left unmasked ; and 
 for a brief season the cloud rose heavenward, as a veil might be lifted from a 
 lovely face: we got one glimpse of the dark inland lake and the little islets on 
 its bosom—one look of the stern rock ramparts that gird it, and a look at 
 the peaked monarchs beyond, who ever reign in their own domain, untrod by 
 the foot of man. The original sketch for the picture engraved was taken on 
 another occasion. 
 
 The next morning was one of earnest rain, and our host was urgent in en- 
 treaty that we should not leave in such a day, and I will not soon forget the 
 expression of sadness that was marked on the servant-girl’s face as she saw us 
 determined to leave, and make for the eastward path. My friend was mounted 
 on the trusty steed of our kind entertainer, whose only regret was he could not 
 mount me on another. As we left the glen we saw figures wrapped in plaids 
 coming over the hill that divides Camasunary from Loch Slapin: they were 
 gathering for the funeral which would soon proceed by boats toa little burying- 
 _ ground a few miles away. 
 
 We had not gone far before we had a better understanding of our friends’ 
 earnest entreaty that we would not endeavour to reach Sligachan in such 
 weather, for streamlets we had passed by almost unnoticed the day before were 
 now swollen, and rushing in turbid fury over their rocky beds, and from the 
 mountain-side thousands of minor runlets of cream-toned foam were fed by the 
 clouds, which hung above the jagged peaks that cleft them, and caused them 
 to disgorge their liquid treasure. An engagement to be present and conduct a 
 
 ala, 
 
Glen Sligachan in a Storm. 
 
 meeting in the Portree school-house, entered into by my friend, induced us to 
 persevere, notwithstanding the fierceness of the blasts we had to face. 
 
 The first serious crossing we had was between Blaven and Marscow, where 
 the water came down in great force: the pony wouid not face it; I did not see 
 the danger, and went stalking in. For a time it was comparatively shallow, and 
 only care was needed; but there was rather more than a yard of deep water, 
 and it was a marvel I was not carried away. ‘This difficulty over, another 
 awaited us, with the farther danger that every minute spent increased the diffi- 
 culty of re-crossing the stream just forded, for the fast-falling torrent was ever 
 swelling its flood. On every side the roar of the cataract filled the air, and 
 the swirling swaiths of mist were borne on the rushing blasts in fitful wreath- 
 ings; new streamlets were born of the clouds, the existing ones gained strength. 
 We came to the rocky bed we had crossed with such ease the day before—now — 
 it was impassable: it would be a freak of madness that would induce any one 
 to venture into such a seething mass of rushing water with no discoverable 
 foothold. I foolishly thought if we traced the stream upwards, we would be 
 able to cross, thinking that as the minor streams that fed it were cut off, it would 
 have less body of water; but, though we travelled a long way, very much 
 against the inclination of the steed, it made no perceptible difference in the 
 volume of water, and what it lost in width it seemed to gain in depth. Farther 
 we could not go, for a steep cliff-like wall rose from its edge. We retraced our 
 steps, and rein was allowed to the horse: it guided us to where the stream was 
 at its broadest—just where it flows intoa small lake. It crossed, and I followed 
 with difficulty, for I had to fight every step, and my friend was meantime under 
 the power of an almost hysterical excitement, thinking every moment to see me 
 carried off my feet and sucked under the powerful flood. I was as wet as wet 
 could be, and at Sligachan Inn we were refreshed with some soup, and, much 
 against my own convictions, I was persuaded to drive into Portree in my wet 
 clothes. It was a dangerous thing to do; I resorted to my usual expedient of 
 having a good bath immediately on landing at the home of the friends I was 
 staying with, and was none the worse; while the Rev. Doctor conducted the 
 meeting in the school-house. 
 
 Before closing the chapter on the Isle of Skye, I must gather into a nutshell 
 of space a few reminiscences connected with Staffin Bay, close under the Cuira- 
 ing cliffs, where I spent many happy days in the homely inn, kept by one who 
 is a most hospitable entertainer and moderate charger of those who come to 
 
 112 
 
INSIDE CUIRAING. 
 
The Cutraing. 
 
 reside under his roof. In company with an English artist, I climbed up the 
 steep hill-side for many successive weeks to paint the Needle Rock, that stands 
 like a mighty sentinel to guard the pass to the inner meeting-place, where 
 crowned heads of stern aspect hold converse with the elements, and note afar 
 what passes o’er the moorland plain and o’er the ocean leagues, likewise the 
 doings of the legions of the mountain brotherhood that gird like a mighty army 
 the west of loved Scotland. 
 
 OUT-STACK AND THE KILT ROCK, STAFFIN BAY, SKYE. 
 
 It is not a desirable place to paint pictures in, inside the Cuiraing: the 
 silence and the grandeur awes you; and the sheep above where we stood had 
 an uncomfortable habit of loosening with their feet stones that came with an 
 ominous crash near to us, and some shepherd lads, much less excusable, thought 
 it good fun to threaten to, and likewise to perform, throwing stones near us. I 
 will not suppose them guilty of a direct intention of striking us, particularly if 
 they had any idea of the danger of such a proceeding, for the cliff rose much 
 more than a hundred feet above us, and even a very small stone would have 
 fatal effect by striking the head. We had tourist visitors of every age and 
 
 113 15 
 
Along the Cliffs, Isle of Skye. 
 
 family, and some quaint scenes were witnessed on the upgoing—many of the 
 native children (and one who in a few years after might be called an old man) 
 found it a profitable, and I doubt not, too, a pleasurable work, leading the 
 tourists to the top. We noted how shrewdly the man was found paying atten- 
 tion to the member of the party who looked most likely to be the paymaster. 
 
 The drawing gives the view of the Table Rock and the stacks round about 
 it; but while that is the sight most notable in the neighbourhood, it is by no 
 means the alone object of interest. The cliffs all round this cliff mountain 
 abound in features singularly impressive and unique in character. Opposite 
 the Cuiraing on the south of the road is a range of cliffs of almost equal in- 
 terest; while the sea-coast displays many fine basaltic columns and strange out- 
 standing stacks and curious combinations of cliff, and hill, and shore. There 
 is one remarkable scene where the stream that flows from a little mountain 
 tarn leaps over a cliff some hundreds of feet down into the sea, or in back- 
 water on to the great boulders that are found round the coast. <A visitor might 
 spend a long time in this neighbourhood: it is full of the most pleasing 
 memories to me ;* but I may not mention them now, and have reluctantly to 
 close Chapter VIII. 
 
 STAFFIN BAY. 
 
 * Appendix. Note O. 
 114 
 
HH 
 | 
 
 FROM STAFFIN BAY. 
 
 CUIRAING, 
 
| 
 
 nl 
 
 STORNOWAY CASTLE, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 As I would commend “The Pirate” by Sir Walter Scott as the most valuable 
 book descriptive of Shetland scenery, in like manner, if I wished to gratify a 
 friend with truthful telling word-sketches of the Isle of Lewis, I would put in 
 his hand Black’s novel, “A Princess of Thule.” The author has drunk deeply 
 of the poetry that permeates that strangely fascinating island, and has given to 
 the world pictures that fix themselves as firmly in the minds of those who love 
 the bleaker aspects of nature as do some of the most famous creations of 
 our greatest landscape painters; and I have hope that thousands will be led 
 through his descriptions to brave the discomfort of the swelling Minch, and 
 become eye-witnesses of the scenes themselves. 
 
 I left my reader at the close of Chapter VII. seated in the smoking-room of 
 Gairloch Hotel, while I lived over again in his company a few days spent at 
 Dundonald. It came tothe midnight hour; Boots pledged his word he would 
 watch for the steamboat, which even then was much past its advertised time— 
 a circumstance caused by the sheep-lifting, and traffic of that kind required for 
 the large autumn markets. I lay down on the sofa, and about two was roused 
 from a dreamy state. All seemed very dark till quite outside, when stars were 
 visible ; a bell rang, a light was shining at a distance; two strong bull’s-eye 
 lanterns showed the approach of the ’bus from the stable up to the hotel door, 
 and through the darkness we drove in a covered carriage—a route that seemed 
 very circuitous, and to have breakneck turns in it. At the pier I waited the 
 transport boats, seen in dim shadowy form coming from the steamboat that lay 
 out in the bay, and listened to the plash of the oars. They had much goods for 
 Gairloch, and not a little to take on board. Once on board, I took a look 
 
 115 15—2 
 
Lewitsward. 
 
 below, where many men folk were as comfortably spread on the saloon sofas as 
 circumstances would permit, and finding a vacant space sufficiently large to 
 stretch my full complement of feet and inches on, I tried to fall asleep before 
 we got into rough water; but with the first movement of the screw, I was on 
 my feet and on deck, having a view of the hills round Gairloch as they slept in 
 the mist of night ere the faint streaks of dawn disturbed their repose. Each 
 gentle breath was exquisitely hushed in these still hours as the light began to 
 glimmer over the arch of heaven, ’mid the cloud-wreaths, over the mountains, 
 
 and on the wide expanse of ocean—ahead, astern, and on either side of us, 
 
 as we sped towards Lewis. 
 
 As we receded from the mainland we ever sighted new mountain ranges : 
 we saw them growing fainter and dipping out oi our sight; to the southward 
 the Skye hills lent a charm, and the Isle of Lewis loomed bigger and broader, 
 till we steamed alongside of the pier and were landed ’mid the curing of a fine 
 catch of herring taken during the night. The boats were sparkling with the 
 glitter of the “caller ou,” as our fishwives call them; and busily the men were 
 throwing them out from among the nets into the creels, while the shore was lined 
 by brawny-armed women clothed in waterproof aprons, who with marvellous 
 rapidity were gutting the fish, and packing them in barrels with abundance of 
 salt between each layer. As a whole the season had not brought a successful 
 fishing, which, sad to relate, would condemn to bachelorhood for another year 
 many Lewismen who waited a successful season to enable them to begin life 
 in partnership with a fisher lass. Shortly thereafter I read in one of the local 
 papers: “The recent failure in the herring fishery has had a very depressing 
 effect on the matrimonial market at nearly all the fishing stations. The de- 
 crease on the marriages in the three months ending 30th September is very 
 considerable. In the island of Lewis, with upwards of 25,000 inhabitants, 
 there were only two marriages.” An unsuccessful fishing is a most discouraging 
 event to the dwellers in these remote western isles: hundreds leave every year 
 for the east coast ; when fortunate, they will be able to bring home with them, 
 after cleariag all expenses for board, etc., more than enough to pay the rent 
 of their crofts; but in a bad year they may come away in debt to the curer. 
 
 My first thought on reaching the town was to discover a brother brush. I 
 had no knowledge of his whereabouts, but the first person I met gave me the 
 desired information; for in an¥island like Lewis, having one main door of 
 entrance and exit to the outer world, every one is known, and your movements 
 
 116 
 
Hit ' | i 
 
 HHH Hii 
 
 MUN \| | 
 i 
 
 | HH | 
 
 SCENF, SKYE. 
 
 WINTER 
 
A Malcontent. 
 
 seem as if conveyed by telegraph from place to place, to become familiar to 
 every one; and not unfrequently you may be surprised to learn particulars 
 regarding your own history and doings yourself were ignorant of, which springs 
 from that marvellous mixing of histories so beautifully developed in some 
 
 minds. I remember meeting a very marked instance of this,—an aged lady 
 phrenologist, who would read half a dozen heads or more at a time, and de- 
 clared that each was photographed on her own brain as soon as read; a few 
 days after she would dictate the chart to an amanuensis, and then any one who 
 listened to the oral reading, and compared the particulars stated then with 
 those on the written chart, could discover the wondrous mixing. I may give 
 my readers gratuitously the professional practical prescription given to each 
 patient ; it was: ‘‘ Be sure to ventilate the nerve centres ;” which, being inter- 
 preted, means, Take lots of exercise. My friend was in the Lewis Hotel, 
 sleeping soundly, having only just returned from a trip ina sloop to the Shiant 
 Islands, where he had found much material to occupy pencil and brush ; he 
 had also some pleasing water-colour drawings of Lewis in his portfolio. These 
 sketches by this young artist, Mr. Aleck F. Sutherland, have much freshness 
 and power, and a true appreciation of the poetry of our western island scenery. 
 
 The very woful face of a fellow-passenger by the steamer, and now hotel 
 companion, and his sad tale, brought to my mind the fact that it was raining, 
 and that the landscape looked somewhat bleak. He was a schoolmaster, who 
 came to make personal application for a situation. He had not taken kindly 
 to the rocking Father Neptune gave us when crossing the Minch. Stornoway 
 was unlike the city he hailed from: it rained, he heard a number of people 
 speaking Gaelic, and that was the last straw. He longed for the sailing of the 
 steamer to take him from a place where he thought only misery awaited a man 
 of his intelligence and education. All our entreaties endeavouring to make 
 him reconsider his decision avere unavailing, and Stornoway was saved from 
 having a resident malcontent,—one who. would not enliven his surroundings 
 when circumstances seemed unpropitious. It is sad to think some will rush 
 from the most charming spois on earth because they chance to land ona rainy 
 day. The loss is all their own. 
 
 The most noteworthy feature about Stornoway is the castle and grounds of 
 Sir James Mathieson. It is a palatial residence, and occupies a worthy site, 
 like the magnificent piles of masonry built in our forefathers’ days, to guard 
 the people’s homes; this stronghold raises its proud walls and towers, and 
 
 117 
 
A Morning Walk, Isle of Lewts. 
 
 commands alike the bay and every house that lines the shore. There are no 
 remarkable buildings in the town; there are banks, churches, very many 
 general merchants, and a few bakers, butchers, curing yards, ship-building 
 yards and suchlike, while in the harbour there is some shipping life. 
 
 I had the good fortune to have a lodging that overlooked the castle and the 
 bay, and as I sat with the window open towards sunset the view was inexpres- 
 sibly fine. The bay was well sheltered, and reflected the shelving hill and its 
 coat of many-coloured leaves and strangely tinted rocks, and rich carpeting of 
 heather and velvety grass; over this mirror the winds breathed gentle sighs, 
 while as darkness increased the shades on the hill-side deepened in tone, and 
 then the ever-varying form and hue of cloud and cloudlet, and of the vast 
 ilimitable space o’er which our atmosphere casts her film that gathers to it 
 the rays of light, and beam by beam releases them, thus letting us fall gently 
 into the arms of night. 
 
 It is time to leave the capital and have a walk; let us rise betimes. My 
 respected landladies, who are the double-distilled quintessence of considerate- 
 ness and island hospitality, would think all good would leave their abodes if a 
 dweller beneath their roof left fasting, so, in spite of all my entreaties to the 
 contrary, a cup of tea was prepared to forestall my start; and as I walked by 
 the river-side and reached a road that skirts a number of very massive peat- 
 stacks, and displays on the landward side an interminable host of peat-pits, the 
 geniality of the sunshine was felt, and I would gladly have slackened my pace 
 were it not that by so doing my good friends at Gress (some eight miles from 
 Stornoway, where I was due at eight o’clock, if I remember rightly), might 
 have waited breakfast for me. The road was very pleasant, and nice peeps were 
 opened out along the shore, those scenes peculiar to this and neighbouring 
 isles ; long flat stretches of heath and sand, and lines of cliff; and in the 
 pearliest hues the mountains of the north-west of Scotland graced their glowing 
 setting of sunlit cloud and sun-reflecting sea, while the ether was embalmed in 
 shades that partook of many emerald rays. Many thatched cottages were built 
 on the brow of a hill overlooking the sea; and a large potato-field, divided into 
 elongated sections, gave ample scope for many Lewis families to prove that union 
 is strength, for they were busily engaged lifting the crop: each family group 
 was complete in itself; those who had the most children got most quickly 
 over the ground: many hands make light work, and young backs bend easily. 
 I was pleased to see so many hearty workers thus earnestly labouring early in 
 
 18 
 
 ee ees 
 
 ry 
 
 ae ee 
 
Pleasant Company. 
 
 the day. It was a golden day to them; for dry weather is the only safe 
 weather for potato-lifting. The costumes were for the most part composed of 
 homespun cloth of native dye, though now and again gay neckerchiefs—the 
 manufacture of the south country—gave liveliness to the head; while now 
 and again a bright-coloured shawl was pinned across the shoulders of the 
 women. An old churchyard passed, Gress Farm and lodge were only a few 
 yards farther, and I was welcomed to a place as one of the snug family break- 
 fast party; and an hour after, with light step and mind as free, in company 
 with a gentleman of most congenial tastes, and two bright sunny-hearted young 
 
 ra 
 
 CAVE NEAR GRESS, LEWIS. 
 
 ladies, lovers of Lewis,—its people, its rocky coasts, and the seas that lave 
 them, lovers of all the moorland flowers,—we were quite in the spirit of the 
 morning ; and bounded over heath and rock, over hill and vale, barely con- 
 scious of the sloughs when marshy ground met us, and able to walk with 
 ease very near the edges of the cliff, that we might just have a look at the sea- 
 gulls floating about. I will not venture to describe my fair companions; I 
 will the rather endorse all Mr. Black has written about their charms; and if 
 any are sceptical, I must tell them you cannot have been in Lewis, or must 
 have failed to meet a real Sheilla. Our first halting-place was one of those 
 remarkable dykes that extend for many miles; I am told the counterpart or 
 connection of this one is to be met with on the mainland. The sketch shows 
 119 
 
Tustde a Cave. 
 
 the massive wall in its seaward exposure, and the deep chasm wrought by the 
 sea washing away little by little the softer conglomerated rock of which the 
 surrounding cliff is composed ; the waves in their ceaseless lashings broke with 
 a solemn plash against the dyke. The next scene we visited was the interior 
 of a cave, a curious spot, fully exposed to the rushing waves: the tide was 
 back, and we were thus able to explore it by picking our steps carefully; inside 
 was a beach of pebbly shingle, and what seemed a large boulder providentially 
 placed for the wearied rambler in the best position to command the outlook 
 of the cave; but he was warned “Do not sit upon that treacherous heap;” in 
 truth, it was none other than the rotten carcase of a cow, and to have touched 
 it with a stick might have expelled us from the cave in much haste. Even 
 when allowed to rest under the protecting glazing of film, the air was somewhat 
 tainted ; it was thought a desirable thing to have it out of the cave, but like the 
 matter of belling the cat, who would undertake such a piece of work ? we were 
 not inclined to become martyrs in such a cause, and the spectre may haunt 
 the cave still. The cave interior displayed a great glitter of colour, and the 
 warm sunlight shining on the masses of red rock outside told strongly against 
 the cool blue of the sky and sea, and the deep, deep tones inside the cave. 
 My friend found many hermit crabs and some lovely anemones; each calm 
 pool was a field for scientific research, and would repay hours of patient ex-’ 
 ploration: he brought in his pocket quite a number of treasures. The walk 
 home in the afternoon was enlivened by many sights, and not the least pleasur- 
 able was the appearance of our lady friends again. They left us after we 
 pursued our ramble farther than the dyke, and now came to meet us. The 
 hours that intervened while we dined and talked I must hurry over, and also 
 the drive home in the darkness of midnight, in company with another guest 
 who came out to Gress to dine. 
 
 Our next walk necessitated early rising, and it was well we rose betimes, 
 for the morning glory was overcast by breakfast-time, and by noon the whole 
 scene was under the power of cloudland, having her liquid treasures bountifully 
 showered o’er every height and hollow. The morning was very choice—so 
 fresh, so calm! a clear atmosphere displayed distant objects to advantage. 
 The moorland miles brought few fellow-pilgrims across my path ; those I did 
 meet were most amply clothed in woollen garb, and our courtesies interchanged, 
 while duly appreciated, were as in an unknown tongue; for I did not under- 
 stand their Gaelic, nor did they my English. The hills of Harris formed a 
 
 120 
 
AN 
 Lh 
 AW 
 BW 
 \\ 
 
 AK} 
 NN 
 {AN 
 
 WAY \ 
 AWA 
 AN 
 NAAN 
 
 CLIFF SCENE, NEAR GRESS, LEWIS. 
 
Garrynahine. 
 
 mountain chain whose peaks seemed to possess an altitude far in advance of 
 their true height; inland lakes, and at one part of the road about half-way 
 across the moor, a few cottage homes, and their patches of cultivated ground, 
 enlivened the landscape. 
 
 I was glad to reach Garrynahine Inn, and after the fourteen miles of a walk 
 was not unthankful to test the merits of a roasted wild duck for breakfast. 
 Thereafter I looked out of all the windows of the snug hostelry, and not finding 
 a satisfactory view, for it now rained in earnest, and it was vain to hope to be 
 
 MAINLAND MOUNTAINS, FROM ISLE OF LEWIS, 
 
 able to sketch out of doors, I noticed a new house a short distance from the 
 ‘inn (it was being prepared for a doctor); was entrusted with the keys, and 
 from one of the front windows looked out on the rainy scene depicted in the 
 sketch of “ Garrynahine, Isle of Lewis.” It rained in downright earnest, and 
 the noise of rain and wind on the roof, windows, and doors of the empty house 
 gave the place an eerie feeling. Towards the time of sun-setting the torrents 
 became intermittent; bright gleams of light broke through the clouds; the 
 grey veil lifted, and discovered a landscape with fresh hill-sides all dripping 
 and glowing—lakes, stream, river, homestead ; and weird stone witnesses that 
 pointed to an unknown past, speaking of departed heroes whose names and 
 deeds are alike lost to us. May we ask in Ossianic terms: Were they taken 
 “from the stream amidst the song of bards”? Who raised the mould around 
 each, and bid them speak to’other years? ‘‘Oozy daughter of streams, that 
 121 16 
 
Druid Circles. 
 
 now art reared on high—speak to the feeble, O stone! after Selma’s race 
 have failed! Prone from the stormy night, the traveller shall lay him by thy 
 side ; thy whistling moss shall sound in his dreams; the years that are past 
 shall return. - Battles rise before him, blue-shielded kings descend to war; the 
 darkened moon looks from heaven on the troubled field. He shall burst with 
 morning from dreams, and see the tombs of warriors round !” 
 
 I could not restrain myself from hastening to view one of those Druid 
 circles, of which there are so many in the Isle of Lewis; that given in the 
 
 DRUID CIRCLE, NEAR GARRYNAHINE, 
 
 small vignette is the first one I reached. It stood on a mossy hill, and was 
 environed by an expanse of peat soil and many stacks of the dark-coloured fuel; 
 and in reaching it, many most forbidding sloughs had to be rounded and 
 jumped over. Other circles were within sight, the most notable being the famed 
 Druid temple known as Callanish ; and my imagination, I must own, was dis- 
 covering Druid circles or single Druid stones wherever grey rocks were seen 
 rising above or bedded in the dark moor. 
 
 When I got back to the inn, my host, a very young lady, and a respectable 
 collie dog, kept me company. I am always afraid to overstate the age of 
 ladies ; I may safely venture the remark that this one had not seen more than 
 five summers. The landlord took me out to see a catch of salmon which his 
 three rods, let out to gentlemen staying under his roof, had brought in—I 
 think fifty-six pounds was the weight of the lot. I notice in the “ Sportsman’s 
 
 122 
 
LEWIS. 
 
 GARRYNAHINE, 
 
Callanish. 
 
 Guide” the Blackwater —the river for which the innkeeper lets a licence to 
 fish — is the second best for salmon in the Island of Lewis, and certainly 
 it is a most healthful spot for any with a love for piscatorial pursuits to 
 reside at. 
 
 Sabbath was a peaceful day; there was no church within reach, and it was 
 very pleasant to have the loved Book of books out on the hill-side, lying 
 where one could have a look now and again at some very charming leaves in 
 the sister work, the book of nature. On Monday morning the glass made a 
 determined stand at stormy; the landlord, preparing fora drive to Stornoway, 
 buckled on his strongest and fullest waterproof equipment. I left ew route for 
 Barvas, a walk of some twenty miles. The first part of the way skirted part 
 of Loch Roag and led to the stones of Callanish. By this time the clouds 
 were unbending and big drops fell; the winds were sounding with a watery 
 wail. The stones stood in their weirdest garb, catching deep shadows and 
 faint gleams of evanescent light ; the wind prevented my umbrella being of any 
 service, but fortunately the wind came with a decided bias from east to west, 
 so I got close to a massive stone that formed one of a double line in the 
 longest limb of the cruciform setting, and kept very close to it, and made up 
 my mind to have all the rain-drops come on myself, and by that means I 
 partially protected the sketch and the moist colour-box. Many groups of 
 native cattle were driven past by men, women, and bairns, who were so 
 rolled up in homespun and waterproof, the nose and eyes were all you could 
 see of them, and a stick wagged to and fro to speed the progress of the 
 stirks. It would amply repay a painter to erect a hut from which he could 
 paint these stones in such weather. I could have spent days admiring the 
 weirdsome group, but had to hasten on; and the day’s walk, while one of the 
 most delightful I ever enjoyed, if I presented a catalogue of the elements that 
 were mixed in that exhilarating cup, I fear many of my readers would say, if 
 I offered to share it with them, what a Scotch lad said when presented with 
 a glass of wine or whiskey on condition that he would drink the health of 
 each member of the company, “If you please, sir, I’m no’ dry.” I had a 
 most thorough soaking through and through, of hat and boots and body- 
 casing—a continuous pelting of the rain on my face and head. I passed 
 rocky burns, weltering pools, dripping cliffs, fields half flooded, the road con- 
 
 verted into a running stream. ~ Rain it did from big to bigger drops, from fast 
 to faster fall, till every low place was flooded, the road was reeking with yellow 
 123 16——2 
 
Much Rain. 
 
 vapour, whilst in the ditches on either side the water took a deep peat-colour. 
 The burns rushed their waters into cream-toned foam, and the little streamlets 
 sent their white gushings through the greensward. The whole hill-side was 
 looking as gleeful as a brood of ducks, and every tint received new charm of 
 colour. The rocks, the streams, the mossy pools, the beehive cottage, the 
 quaint patches of soil in the oddest of corners selected by these hardy dwellers 
 in this place of rocks, were sparkling with gorgeous tints. The people might 
 have been mummified Druids; in some cases at a little distance I mistook 
 them for Druid stones, so completely was the human form hid in the wool 
 that now clothed them, but in other storms had shielded their sheep. The 
 huts occupied places among the rocks, and afforded great variety ; some had 
 to be reached by stepping-stones, for a morass separated their hillock from the 
 parent hill. Bold promontories discovered groups of homesteads: above a 
 village of such I saw a tower similar to that of Mousa in Shetland; it seemed 
 of larger dimensions; inland lakes lined with grey stones and a few dwarfed 
 grasses had on islets what might or might not be ruins of other Pictish build- 
 ings. These islets had each a line of piled stones leading to the islet. The 
 inland hill views lay beyond long-spreading carpetings of moss and peat; and 
 it would seem one of the hardest undertakings for city-bred pedestrians to find 
 their way through such a soil. I have heard such a trip described by a Free 
 Church minister whose boyish days were spent in a district of the Lewis of like 
 character, viz., the Parish of Lochs; the place where the old woman died last 
 year at the age of one hundred and fifteen years—at the time of her death the 
 oldest woman in Scotland. Sir James Alexander wrote a paper giving a few 
 particulars regarding this venerable islander, who was born before the Duke 
 of Wellington, Napoleon, or Sir Walter Scott: his paper was read before a 
 meeting of the Anthropological Department of the British Association last 
 year at Glasgow. Her work was herding cattle on the moor grazings, carrying 
 home peats, delving the land, house-work, and milking the kye. She was 
 never married, and was in receipt of parochial relief from the time of the 
 passing of the Poor Law Act, receiving this because of old age and blindness. 
 Her food was of the simplest kind—home-made soup or broth, oatmeal and 
 barleymeal porridge, fish, and potatoes; while it is significantly stated she took 
 no stimulants, though a Highlander, but latterly was fond of a cup of tea. 
 About an hour before I reached Barvas, as the shadows of evening were 
 gathering, the rain ceased, the clouds partially lifted, and some bright bits of 
 124. 
 
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 sky were seen above and reflected on the Atlantic waves in their hushed 
 heavings. When I reached the inn my clothes were still very wet, and the 
 landlord, though he was a man considerably taller than myself, most kindly 
 placed a complete rig-out of his clothes at my disposal: I sat with much com- 
 fort in them, and spent a very happy evening with the good folks of Barvas 
 Temperance Hotel. Next morning, after joining the family at worship, I 
 turned my steps still farther north, having a desire to reach the most northerly 
 point of the island. The landscapes differed from those of the last day’s 
 walk, and were seen in another mood; the rain-clouds floated high, the road 
 lay over rocky ridges, the homesteads had an amplitude of stone wall fencing 
 them in, possibly to shield them from the blasts that sweep from the Atlantic 
 over these exposed seaboard cliffs; and they were built more compactly 
 together, like the strongholds of a brotherhood in holy alliance with each other 
 to withstand all assaults. These districts were not very fruitful in peat, and 
 they would have to carry them from a distance of many miles; in some cases 
 a pavement of large stones led from the main road to the door of the dwelling. 
 This was, I think, because the soil all round was so softened and converted 
 into cloggy mud by the habit of keeping the cattle within the gates in ‘bad 
 weather, when their high stone dykes served as a bield for the protection of 
 the cattle. In the forenoon many groups of men and women passed me. 
 I could not make out where they were going, and made several inquiries 
 without getting any answers save in Gaelic; it might as well have been 
 Hindostani. I thought they might be going to pay their rents, for I was told 
 it was about the settling-time. At last some passed me with books; I stopped 
 them, and found the books to be Bibles: it was all clear now, they were going 
 to a week-day preaching, and shortly after, as the road wound down a glen 
 over a burn, I met the Free Church minister on his way to the place of meet- 
 ing. He was on horseback. ‘There was a difficulty ahead; there is no inn or 
 hotel at the Ness. I accosted a man by the way 
 
 a man who once upon a 
 time had aspired to become a teacher: he wore long hair, and his features 
 were not without refinement, while his manner of speech was courteous, and 
 he was well informed on most points; but he seemed reduced to living on the 
 hardier sons of toil, who earned by diligence the bread they eat, and his 
 coat seemed by a marvellous arrangement to be developed into one huge 
 pocket. I might overstate its capacity if I said it would hold a sheep, but 
 I think I am within the bounds of fact when I say it could hold a good big 
 
 125 
 
Callicot Bay. 
 
 lamb. This receptacle was well stored. He told me the habit of travellers 
 was to lodge with the merchants, and that they were quite accustomed to 
 this arrangement. So I determined to try the merchants, and failing them, 
 the lighthouse - keepers. I was most fortunate: the first merchant was a 
 humane man, with a humane wife, and though the accommodation was far 
 other than what they would have liked to offer, because their spare bed-room 
 
 CLIFFS, BUTT OF LEWIS. 
 
 was already occupied by a Free Church probationer officiating in the neigh- 
 bourhood,—they offered me such as they had in a cordial spirit, and we were 
 soon good friends. I got some refreshment and walked to Callicot Bay to 
 have a peep at the sea, and met many of the fishermen, who had a knowledge | 
 of English, and were determined to put it out to usury, for I was hailed and 
 catechized about most of the ‘themes of the day, with not-a few thrusts 
 endeavouring to know my particular line of business and errand to their 
 corner of the world. The bay was rugged, mysterious, and breathed a mourn- 
 ful life. The waves broke sadly on the far-off reefs, and came with solemn 
 126 
 
LEWIS, 
 
 BEEHIVE COTTAGE, 
 
Sketching a Beehive Cottage. 
 
 almost fearsome thuds on the rocky coast near which I sat. I left the bay 
 and wandered over the cliffs at the Butt, looking into the dark gios and down 
 on the breaking waves, and along the many-tinted cliff walls on whose broad 
 pages sun and moon, the spray of ocean and the showers of rain, the birds 
 of the air and the germ of the lichen, are drawing pictures and engraving 
 histories man may not read. 
 
 Next day was a day of ceaseless rain. I did not bring with me from Stor- 
 noway any facilities for working outside in the rain. The only satisfactory view 
 I could command from my home for the time was one of the Lewis houses ; to 
 get it right I would have to raise the skylight and look out under it. I pro- 
 tected my head with a gay silk handkerchief, which rather attracted the children, 
 for they could not see the sketch I was busy with, and were at a loss to under- 
 stand why a man should remain so many hours bobbing his head up and down 
 in such uncomfortable weather. I am glad the day kept me to this sketch, for 
 it is a good specimen of the Lewis beehive cottage; the distance beyond, seen 
 over the top of the straw-thatched roof, shows an expanse of ground divided 
 into sections, where many workers were busily engaged gathering the potato 
 crop, and either carted home or carried in creels; and while the men and 
 women, girls and boys, are either lifting, gathering, or carrying, a number of 
 noisy pigs did the gleaners’ work, and turned up with the snout the clods that 
 had been spared by the graip, and had quite a feasting-time: I saw among 
 them many well-favoured porkers. ‘The soil is very sandy, but they enrich it 
 by ample covering of seaweed manure brought from the strand. Let the reader 
 observe carefully the roof of the dwelling shown in the sketch, and search 
 diligently for a chimney, or even a smoke-hole: he will find neither, for the 
 straw which forms the roof is in process of preparation to be used as manure ; 
 and when thatching-time comes, the inner lining—well saturated with odorife- 
 rous peat-reek—will be transferred to the dung-heap; the outer thatch will 
 have its season of reeking under ample layers of new straw placed outside, 
 and well strapped down with straw or heather ropes, weighted with stones to 
 weather the blasts. In wet weather the roof is seen reeking all over, and until 
 acquainted with the reason, you are in fear lest a general conflagration will 
 burst forth. It is curious to see a whole village send into the air filmy clouds 
 of blue smoke. 
 
 The following morning was favourable, and I was wishful to make a double 
 use of it to sketch the rocks at the Butt and the lighthouse, and before darken- 
 
 127 
 
Back to Stornoway. 
 
 BUTT OF LEWIS LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 ing to retrace my steps back to Barvas,—both of which 
 
 were comfortably 
 accomplished. 
 
 I may not discourse longer on this part of the Isle of Lewis, but ask my 
 reader to join me at Stornoway,* where I embarked on board the Glasgow 
 steamer, which is advertised to call at Loch Maddy on its southward passage. 
 My brother artist was with me: we witnessed very affecting partings of brothers 
 and sisters and loved daughters, leaving their island home and father and 
 
 * Appendix. Note P. 
 128 
 
 pf 
 
BUTT OF LEWIS. 
 
The Shiant Isles. 
 
 mother, to sail for India’s distant land. ‘There are often such scenes, and 
 among the common people the audible manifestation of grief is not restrained, 
 but breaks forth in mournful plaintive wailings. As long as the friends were 
 in sight, there were wavings of handkerchiefs, and, even after, the eyes were 
 fixed on the spot where they were. 
 
 In turn we saw the Ullapool Mountains, and those of Sutherland; and soon, 
 we were noting the varying form of the group of isles known as the Shiants. 
 
 THE SHIANT ISLES. 
 
 My friend pointed out one or two spots where there are fine basaltic columns, 
 and also the remains of a wreck: a coal brig had gone to pieces, and in a day 
 or two the pieces of coal were strewn in heaps along the beach, rounded like 
 marbles. We also enjoyed looking on the configuration of rocky hill and in- 
 tersecting loch and island outpost, that lay along the Lewis and Harris coast ; 
 while, on our left, as we entered the Little Minch, the heads, the points, the 
 cliffs, the lochs, and the mountains of Skye were delicately revealed amid tints 
 of ultramarine and pearly hues. We saw the many islets that rest in Harris 
 Sound, and steamed past a headland of North Uist, and were landed at Loch 
 Maddy. 
 
 Towards evening we walked out to view the land: all seemed very bleak, 
 
 120 Lei, 
 
Loch Maddy. 
 
 yet singularly lovely. I marvel not that those who live in such isles are 
 unwilling to leave them for sunnier homes. The whole land, despite its still- 
 ness, seems full of voices that woo the soul, and whose whisperings are the 
 more telling because the outer world may not waft you one echo from the 
 ceaseless fever of her artificial life. The mountains, as they creep under the 
 mantling of the grey cloud-folds, seem to weep the tears of a quenchless grief 
 for those who sleep in the shades of far-off lands, but who once trod their 
 summits with the light foot of the cragsman, or guided the frail coble with 
 
 ULLAPOOL MOUNTAINS. 
 
 consummate skill to the plaintive melody of Gaelic or Norse song: round 
 every rocky bay did not each grey rock, each mossy pool, each sandy bay, each 
 fleecy cloud and rippling wave, have a tale to tell? They had; but what they 
 told we may not here unfold. 
 
 By the day-dawn that awaked us from our slumbers we saw that rainy 
 weather might be expected ; so, in waterproof attire, we sought the moorland 
 road, and wandered in a south-westerly direction ; but one scene was very like 
 to another: the bleak moorland, the moistened hills, the deathlike stillness of 
 the inland freshwater lakes—their darksome girding of heathy bog, and the 
 hushed life of the arms of the sea that wind a tortuous course round every 
 high land of the isle. We tried a sketch and visited one or two of the cottage 
 homes, and a very unique school-house, where the bairns were bare-headed, 
 and for the most part bare-legged: the clothes they had were the cut-down, 
 
 130 
 
LOCH MADDY, NORTH UIST. 
 
Back to Stornoway. 
 
 well-worn homespun tweed garments of their sires ; they gathered round a 
 peat fire in the centre. The cottagers were of the most primitive kind, and 
 most courteous, feasting us with copious draughts of new milk. 
 
 The north-going steamboat carried us back to Stornoway to wait the sailing 
 of the “ Ondine,” the Ullapool packet, in which we will make the passage over 
 to the mainland in our readers’ company. 
 
 LOCH MADDY, NORTH UIST, HEBRIDES, 
 
 131 17—2 
 
WICK BAY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Tuis chapter opens by drawing the curtain down over the scenes described 
 in that which preceded it. My last evening in Lewis was spent with a genial 
 spirit who lived in a snug cottage within the castle grounds. My friend was 
 one of large sympathies and cultivated tastes, having a love for art, and himself 
 an amateur, whose productions keep that a secret, for they have all the masterly 
 handling and delicate appreciation of drawing and colour the works of able 
 professional artists display; and in his cozy parlour, beside the blazing fire, 
 with his affectionate terrier Jolly and the two cats, who accompany him in his 
 walks through the woods, speaking of pictures and painters, men and books, 
 scenes and peoples, we had a good time. I enjoyed going over some of his 
 sketch-books, and was interested in several pastel portraits he had worked: 
 one of George Macdonald the writer, another an “In Memoriam” sketch of a 
 little grandchild, who was away from the sorrows of earth to be with Him who 
 said, “Suffer the children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such 
 is the kingdom of heaven.” : 
 
 I bid good bye in time to have a last season with my kind landladies at 
 family worship, and they woke me betimes in the morning, while it was still 
 dark, for it was now among the last days of October. The warning bell rung 
 
 122 
 
 ; 
 
Crossing the Minch. 
 
 on board the steamboat told me their time was ahead of mine. I hastened to 
 embark. A sailor put the knapsack in a corner of the saloon beside the luggage 
 of the only other cabin passengér we carried. There was discontent audible 
 among the ruling powers in regard to goods some one desired to-put on board. 
 We had for cargo many barrels of salt from the Stornoway Salt Store, which 
 supplies many ports on the mainland. ‘To the advertised minute the steamer 
 kept. For a time it was hard to reconcile the Stornoway people to this punc- 
 tuality, and more than one passenger had to be taught that it is not the duty 
 of the captain to wait for lag-behinds, by being left on the island till the next 
 sailing. The turning of our head safely accomplished, we steamed slowly past 
 Goat Island, seeing the gleam from the lighthouse at intervals as it shone amid 
 the darkness. A few ships’ lights were rocking about as the swell from without 
 told on the waters of the bay ; and soon we were outside, buffeting and o’er- 
 topping the unseen waves: dark they seemed, and dark overhead was the star- 
 less sky ; all we could see from the bridge was what our mast-light shone on ; 
 the brightest light fell on our own deck, and the barrels of salt firmly roped 
 to the ship’s side. Our bow ploughed into the waves, sending the white foam 
 to the right and to the left of her onward course ; the wind whistled through 
 the rigging. With a dancing motion we bounded over the waves or charged 
 them, and were drenched in a shower of spray after the shock. The man on 
 the outlook being in danger near the bow, was ordered abaft. Slowly the 
 grey light did herald the dayspring, and the waves and the white crests that 
 crown their soarings became traceable. The light increased, and a faint gleam 
 of ruddy hue ahead streaked the horizon, and discovered to us the mainland 
 mountains calmly slumbering in a bed of mist: gently the roseate light stole 
 over their heads, as if unwilling to disturb the sleepers in the spellbound land. 
 There is no steward on board, and the keen sea-air has a tendency to give one 
 an appetite. My fellow-traveller was made aware of this before he left Lewis, 
 and had quite an ample store and every requisite from Stornoway Castle: he 
 got a sailor to make tea, and invited me to havea share,—an invitation I 
 gladly accepted. As we sailed into Loch Broom, the sun shone on the 
 numberless rocky isles and islets we passed, and we had a fine panorama of 
 mountains inland and to the north and the south. 
 
 I found a very large budget of letters awaiting me at Ullapool, and secured 
 a seat on the mail gig. The drive was propitious and led us past many scenes 
 similar to those described in the other Rambles. A few hours after we reached 
 
 133 
 
Dingwall. 
 
 the railway station of Garve, I was in my old quarters overlooking the peaceful 
 windings of the river at Inverness, where a few days were pleasantly spent be- 
 fore starting northward to visit a portion of the cliffs that form the sea-resisting 
 walls of Caithness. 
 
 At Dingwall the lover of nature may spend pleasant days by following any 
 of the roads that lead from the town, while the town itself is of interest, and on 
 a market day presents a quaint scene, and will introduce to you many High- 
 
 BEN WYVIS, FROM NEAR DINGWALL, 
 
 land characters whose histories you may be fortunate enough to get if you are 
 acquainted with any shrewd Dingwallian. Dingwall is quite a garden, and as 
 you walk by its hedgerows and look on the rich crops that wave in the fields, 
 or at the goodly army of stacks that fill the farmyard and shelter under the 
 ample leafage of the stately trees, you can scarcely realize that you are within 
 an afternoon’s walk of the summit of the mighty Ben Wyvis, whose massive 
 shoulders form the background of landscapes seen from very many directions. 
 The little sketch I have of him was taken from a point on the railway embank- 
 ment near to the Dingwall Station, and it shows a portion of rich meadow and 
 some fields whereon the last stooks wait a dry day ere they can be safely built 
 134. 
 
Mt} 
 
 ml 
 
 i) 
 Hh 
 i) 
 
 LOCH OUSIE, NEAR DINGWALL. 
 
The Black Rock. 
 
 into stacks. The trees that fringe so many of the farms are seen, and Ben 
 Wyvis is among the clouds, while in the foreground a little drain is filled with 
 water. All this bit of ground, I would judge, has been taken from the sea 
 within late years. 
 
 Loch Ousie is worthy of being visited. I have given a sketch of it after an 
 oil picture I painted some years ago, and I have fragrant recollections of the 
 glow of colour that increased the beauty of the lake. Another spot you should 
 certainly visit is the Black Rock on the Aultgrande Water, associated as it is 
 with one of Hugh Miller’s legendary tales: it will suggest fancies to most 
 minds. To induce my readers to visit it, I will quote a description of it from 
 the Statistical Account, in which we are told this “river runs through a chasm 
 called the Craig Grande or Ugly Rock. This isa deep chasm or abyss formed 
 by two opposite precipices that rise perpendicularly to a great height, through 
 which the Aultgrande runs for the space of two miles. It begins at the 
 distance of four miles from the sea, by a bold projection into the channel of 
 the river, which diminishes in breadth by at least one-half. The river con- 
 tinues to run with rapidity for about three-quarters of a mile, when it is con- 
 fined by a sudden jutting-out of the rock. Here the side-view from the summit 
 is very striking. The course of the stream being thus impeded, it whirls and 
 foams and beats with violence against the opposite rock, till, collecting strength, 
 it shoots up perpendicularly with great fury, and, forcing its way, darts with 
 the swiftness of an arrow through the winding passage on the other side. 
 After passing this obstruction, it becomes in many places invisible, owing 
 partly to the increasing depth and narrowness of the chasm, and partly to the 
 view being intercepted by the numerous branches of trees which grow on each 
 side of the precipice. About a quarter of a mile farther down, the country 
 people have thrown a slight bridge, composed of trunks of trees covered with 
 turf, over the rock, where the chasm is about sixteen feet broad. Here the 
 observer, if he can look down on the gulf below without any uneasy sensa- 
 tions, will be gratified with a view equally awful and astonishing. ‘The wild- 
 ness of the steep and rugged rocks—the gloomy horrors of the cliffs and 
 caverns, where the genial rays of the sun never yet penetrated—the waterfalls, 
 which are heard pouring down in different places of the precipices with sounds 
 various in proportion to their distances—the hoarse and hollow murmuring of 
 the river, which runs at a depth of near one hundred and thirty feet below the 
 surface of the earth—the fine groves of pines which majestically climb the 
 
 135 
 
By Rail to Wrek. 
 
 sides of a beautiful eminence that rises immediately from the brink of the 
 chasm,”—if you would enjoy all this very fully, go when the first frosts of 
 autumn have changed the hues of part of the leafage, seek the overflow of 
 this river, clamber by the aid of overhanging trees and jutting rocks till you 
 reach a rocky stand-point, and you will have such glorious colourings in the 
 lichen-tinted rocks, the deep shades in the dark recess, the hues of the tree- 
 stems, the leafage of the trees, the grass, fern, and ivy tendril, that enrich the 
 broken near bank—the treelet and the rock plants of the cliff wall on the 
 other side of the stream—all will be reflected in a still mirror, whose depth we 
 would not incline to sound, or even to disturb its stillness by throwing into it 
 one small pebble. ‘This is only one of the many places we have in Scotland, 
 where you may witness strange meanderings of sullen stream ’tween darksome 
 and o’erarching cliffs. 
 
 But it is time to rejoin the train that goes by the margin of the Firth of 
 Cromarty. Those familiar with Hugh Miller’s writing will incline to dwell on 
 many spots, and allow those with whom that most engaging writer associated 
 them to live again. At the town of Tain we reach Dornoch Firth, and keep it 
 on our right for many miles. We now glide through a hill and river girding, 
 and the map discovers to us what must be a magnificent walk along the road 
 overlooking Lochs Shin, More, and some minor lakes to the west coast at Loch 
 Laxford. Again the line of rails turns eastward till we reach Loch Fleet, after 
 which we keep to the seaboard above the cliffs, and pass many dreary moors, 
 bare bleak hills, and now and again wooded dells. The train that leaves 
 Inverness in the morning does not reach Wick till a late hour in the evening : 
 the hotel folk know this, and are quite prepared to keep open house till after 
 the arrival of the train. The last time I travelled from Wick to Dingwall was 
 when the railway only reached as far north as Golspie; the other portion of 
 the road was an overnight stage-coach journey; and to accommodate some 
 ladies I took a seat on the top: it was a clear cold night, and the air was keen 
 indeed. We may well endorse the saying regarding him who had so much to 
 do with road-making in the Highlands and islands; “if you had seen these 
 roads before they were made you would have blessed brave General Wade,” 
 and wish prosperity to the Highland Railway Company. I found my way 
 to a temperance hotel advertised in the guide-book, and found it a homely 
 house. The morning light showed it had a pleasant outlook over Wick Bay, 
 and the long lines of boats lying high and dry, waiting another season; the 
 
 136 
 
breakwater that has baffled all skill to complete—nobly the battle has been 
 fought, and ever and again it has seemed as if Father Neptune was unable to 
 undo the work accomplished by the patient labour and mechanical aid brought 
 to bear on this undertaking: some morn, or noon, or night, like Samson 
 before the true source of his strength was discovered, he arises as heretofore, 
 and he shakes himself, and in a few tossings he has undone the work of 
 months, and a little while after smiles as peacefully in the sunlight as if he had 
 no other mood than that of tranquillity, and was a man of peace, a veritable 
 Quaker. 
 
 There was a friend I was asked to call for. I will take my reader with me, 
 for it will introduce him to one of our folks, I judge a good specimen of a 
 class still found in the land—one of those who, unseen and unheard, are 
 meekly bearing the will of our Father in heaven. She is a widow who for 
 many years has lived alone. Her little room was the picture of tidiness. She 
 gave me one of those welcomes that are better than wine. For thirteen years 
 she has been almost an invalid, yet can praise the Lord for His great goodness. 
 One heart-sore is not yet healed: her dear boy is at sea and careless; but she 
 has a Christian daughter who is a great comfort, although hundreds of miles 
 away. When a girl she (the mother) lived with an uncle who was a godly 
 man; he had once a week a little gathering in his house for prayer, and the 
 stories these godly men told after their little season of devotion were still fresh 
 in her memory and brightened her lonelier hours. This is a strong contrast to 
 the experience of a young man I met in Dundee—his father was a minister in 
 the north of Scotland; the stories he heard when a young boy at’ his father’s 
 table, told over the toddy by the ministers who came to assist his father at the 
 communion season, he blamed as that which made him look upon the Christian 
 religion as a sham altogether. x 
 
 When she was married her uncle had lain three days on his death-bed, and 
 her husband and she spent some time at the bed-side, getting parting counsel, 
 and what he then said to them seems to have been as from the voice of a 
 prophet, read in the light of the way she has been led since. We read a little 
 portion of the Word together, and had a short season of prayer, after which I 
 left. 
 
 My landlord, who held office as policeman, with a special charge concerning 
 the fishing interests, guided me to a cave in the face of a perpendicular wall of 
 rock, at an angle where it takes a bend ‘outward, and is not seen till you come 
 
 137 18 
 
Inside a Wick Cave. 
 
 down to a ledge of outlying rocks. You have carefully to pick your steps 
 in entering over the sloping shoulders and detached pieces that lead into it. 
 Sometimes the tide makes it unreachable; one woman is supposed to have 
 
 HOME OF THE TINKERS, WICK. 
 
 been carried away by a wave on a dark winter night as she sought the entrance. 
 
 All the signs of human occupancy we saw as we approached was a small red 
 
 petticoat hung over a stone to dry ; but, on going farther in, we saw two little 
 
 girls, of very tender years, cowering beside a few embers of live peat: their 
 
 round gipsy faces were wonderfully clean, and they looked very inquiringly at 
 
 us. A rock-pigeon flew out, a robin redbreast was hopping about, and a rat 
 138 
 
Dwellers tn the Cave. 
 
 seemed quite at home, peeping out behind the small stones. A little straw was 
 spread near the north wall of the cave; a large flat stone served for a table, 
 and held sundry broken tins and cups. An iron was fixed in the overarching 
 side of the cave, from which a slim crook of many pieces of metal was hung, 
 to be used for holding a tin pail over the fire: it would boil quicker and be 
 lighter to carry than a kettle. The roof was well begrimed with smoke. At 
 night any food would be hung attached to the crook, out of the rats’ reach. 
 The cave extended far in, and had heap on heap of broken stone slabs, whilst 
 there was an inner recess which one of the little ones called the “lock-up.” I 
 asked what they would do with pennies we gave them; she said, “ Buy a piece.” 
 She told my landlord, “‘ Ye’re a pelice, I ken by yer claes ;” and, pointing to 
 me, “‘He’s a gentleman wi’ a book in his pocket, and when he comes into coves 
 he takes it oot and writes.” I had seen the mother and father during one of 
 the fierce showers of hail making their way to the town, with bright new-made 
 tins,—he ready to do a bit of mending, she with her youngest child in the 
 skirt of her dress, on her back; and to make way against the pelting hail, she 
 alternately turned her back, going backward, and again sideward. I saw her 
 later in the day going right into the houses, without warning the people: she 
 lifted the latch, and either walked or looked right in. In the cave we could 
 trace the fireplaces used by some four different parties,—one very near the 
 mouth, one farther in, one near the right, and another near the left wall. 
 They (the cave-dwellers) come to this cave as a lord does to his castle. This 
 day, the wind being off the land, the cave was quite snug. When there is a 
 storm that prevents its being habitable, they decamp to one on the other side 
 of the bay, with an opposite exposure. 
 
 The two little ones seemed quite happy, and heeded not the fierce breaking 
 of the waves outside, as they dashed on the rocks and left long wreaths of 
 white foam ; these had no terror for them while they were out of their reach ; 
 nor did the dripping water that came from large overhanging masses of rock, 
 that seemed in danger of falling not far away from them, cause them anxiety ; 
 nor did the dismal recess at the far end of the cave or the darksome roof awe 
 them. As pleased were they sitting on the bare earth beside the dying embers 
 of peat, the rats playing near, within hearing of the ceaseless breaking of the 
 waves, pleased as two young princesses might be, clad in purple, fed with royal 
 dainties, diverted with gorgeous toys, and yet from their earliest infancy their 
 lot is one of suffering. 
 
 139 18—2 
 
The Old Man of Wick. 
 
 I asked; “ Are you not wearying till. mother comes in with some dinner ?” 
 
 ““No, we never gets food so early as this.” She said they got brose in the 
 morning, and bread and tea and flesh at night. ‘An’ we buys our flesh.” 
 
 All sleep huddled together in one corner. 
 
 ‘““Do you ever feed robin redbreast ? ” 
 
 “No, he’s no wirs” (ours). 
 
 “Or the sea-gulls ? ” 
 
 “No; what gude do they do ta us?” 
 
 As we left this cave we got a “thank ye kindly” from the spokesman of the 
 two, and we walked a little farther along the cliffs to the scene depicted in the 
 subject, ‘Old Man of Wick.” We saw some tremendous masses of rock piled 
 one above another ; and it made us marvel less that the Wick Breakwater fares 
 so badly when such stones had been dislodged from the cliff itself by the sea, 
 and carried far out of the place where they had been. ‘The square stronghold 
 known as the “ Old Man of Wick,” is built on the neck of a bold promontory, 
 which juts out into the sea, while on either side are narrow cliff-girded gios, or 
 gullies, into which the ocean rolls his huge billows or his more restful flowings. 
 A severe blast of sleet made us make for the shelter of the Old Man, and we 
 saw he had very thick walls—I would judge upwards of eight feet, and the 
 jutting cliff out from the castle we found to have many distinct indications of 
 some sort of buildings, now all overlaid with grass-grown sod: doubtless these 
 were the homes of those who, in times when might alone was right, were only 
 safe on the approach of an enemy when under the protection of the massive 
 stronghold beneath whose shadow they lay. My guide pointed out to mea 
 ledge very faintly defined on the opposite cliff, where, he said, clansmen kept 
 sentry in early times,.to guard the gorge; for while the cliffs on either side were 
 perpendicular, and could not be scaled by the most skilful cragsman, at the 
 end of the gorge is a smooth beach and an earthen grassy brae, by which easy 
 ascent could be had. 
 
 It was too late to witness the fishing life, which is the leading interest 
 attaching to Wick, but when on the Orkney passage, I have sailed through the 
 fleet of herring-boats, and it is a fine sight. The Aberdeen and Shetland mail 
 steamers call at Wick Bay, weather permitting ; this clause has a deep meaning 
 in it, as many can witness who have seen how the waves break on that shore at 
 times. After sketching the steamboat, as she lay in the bay unlading her cargo, 
 from the bridge over the water that divides Pulteneytown from the old town of 
 
 140 
 
OLD MAN OF WICK. 
 
Noss Ftead. 
 
 Wick, I got into one of the boats leaving the pier, and was landed on board the 
 “St. Nicholas,” thinking it would be more pleasant to visit Thurso by sailing 
 round the coast than to go by rail. A telegram was received just before we 
 put on steam that a heavy sea was running in the Pentland Firth, and that it 
 might not be possible to reach the shelter of Scrabster. The clouds were 
 lowering, and we saw, outside of the shelter of the land, that the waves were 
 
 —— 
 ——— 
 
 NOSS HEAD, 
 
 tipped with a crest of foam. The bold promontory of Noss Head stood in 
 stern majesty, a wall as of adamant. Castles Sinclair and Ackergill lay on the 
 south of Keiss or Sinclair Bay. I made futile efforts to sketch the Castle of 
 Ackergill by the aid of the captain’s field-glass. It is such a place as one can 
 imagine haunted by the spirits of the deep, into which it looks so sadly, and 
 one can picture the neighbouring laird or nearest kinsman keeping guard 
 against such occupation in the absence of its rightful lord,* as is so graphically 
 portrayed in the essays I have mentioned before on the “ Superstitions of the 
 Highlands.” As that book is not likely to be in the possession of my readers, 
 I have quoted what Mrs. Grant says on this head in the Appendix. 
 
 * Appendix. Note Q. 
 141 
 
Stormy Weather tn the Pentland Firth. 
 
 We sailed through the cheerless bay, the clouds deepened overhead, the | 
 waters darkened beneath, the sandy shore separating ’tween the breaking sea~ 
 foam and the trailing storm-clouds that o’ershadowed and enshrouded the 
 bleak hills. Again a cliffy wall lined the coast, and we saw but dimly the 
 stacks and the head of Duncansby, and the inn raised on the site of John 
 o’ Groat’s House. Our bow was pointing westward, seas met us with a heavy 
 
 SINCLAIK BAY, 
 
 thud, and we were glad to be for a little while shielded from their fury by 
 Stromas’ Isle. But again we had to face the Pentland Firth, a seething caul- 
 dron of enraged waters ; we dared not go into such a vortex, for the clouds 
 came with a veil as of night, and when the thick showers fell we did not see 
 three yards ahead, and these waves were gaining new power. Our captain, 
 who was no stranger to these tides and the storms which increased their wild 
 tossings, did not run his ship into the midst thereof, but deeming prudence 
 better than valour, he made for Long Hope, a shelter the Orkneys afford, and 
 we rode at-anchor within hearing of the storm outside, and seeing the fierce 
 scudding of the wind-driven clouds over the moon-lit sky. 
 
 At an early hour next morning the sea had abated somewhat, and though 
 the wind blew a fresh breeze, the sky was clear, so we ploughed through the 
 
 142 
 
Along the Cloffs. 
 
 Pentland, and reached Scrabster Pier just as the rain was preparing to give us 
 another benefit. I walked to the town, 
 left my knapsack, and started in full 
 
 waterproof armament for the coast that 
 lies round Holborn Head. It was 
 strange walking, and many curious 
 
 places were seen in their wildest garb : 
 arches under which the sea broke in 
 sheets of green and white—outstanding 
 stacks where in certain months myriads 
 of sea-birds have their home. The 
 one I have sketched is called the Clett: 
 the waves broke around it and flowed 
 between the cliffs and its base, with 
 circling masses of water filled with air- 
 bells held under the surface from the 
 time when the wave sucked them in. 
 Many yards inland theye were strange 
 holes that went some four hundred feet 
 
 down, till the sea-water prevented the 
 eye reaching any farther, and numerous 
 caves diversified the 
 coast. All the while 
 the rain and the wind 
 
 were robing the scene 
 in the freshest of 
 
 colour, and whetting 
 
 my appreciation of 
 its glories. 
 
 Thurso my readers 
 
 will have heard much 
 
 about, at the time 
 when his Royal High- 
 
 ness visited it to open 
 
 the Exhibition there 
 
 in the autumn of 1876. I saw that Exhibition, and did find it a great treat to 
 143 
 
 CLIFFS TO THE WEST OF DUNNET HEAD. 
 
Thurso Fahibition. 
 
 see so far north some of the choice gems of painting from South Kensington. 
 Many other contributions were of interest; but it was strange to look on this 
 to see on the same walls so many poor efforts at painting 
 
 picture and on that 
 alongside of chef-d’awuvres of artistic power. 
 
 Concerts were being held in the building. The fruit of the little enlivening 
 the quaint old northern town has got through the Exhibition may be seen by- 
 and-bye. It was certainly unique, such an Exhibition, so near the northern 
 shore and the Pentland waves. We will leave the waves to sing a plaintive 
 closing requiem over the Exhibition that was held, and hope Thurso may enjoy ~ 
 much true prosperity. 
 
 THE CLETT STACK, NEAR THURSO. 
 
 Tt 
 
tee 
 
 THE GREEN MARKET, ABERDEEN, 
 
 . 
 
 CHAPTER XE 
 
 ABERDEEN Station was a welcome sight to me after fifteen hours in a railway 
 carriage, and welcome too was the face of a-genial friend, who was waiting my 
 arrival to convey me to his bachelor’s quarters, where we had a royal time. It 
 this friend gives his talent full play, we may expect one of these days to see in 
 print humorous “ Etchings of Aberdeen Worthies,” by a limb of the law. 
 
 He introduced me to a few Aberdonians, and I found that though they live 
 in a granite city and are called hard names, there is underneath the shell of 
 extreme business keenness a wholesome kernel of good feeling. In regard to 
 their sharpness in money matters, a story is told of a Jew who went to try his 
 fortune in that city. He returned south to his brethren, who interrogated him 
 
 145 19 
 
Aberdeen Markets. 
 
 about his want of success, asking how it was that there was not room for even 
 one Jew to live in so wealthy a place. “Ah,” said Abraham, “the truth is, 
 they be all Jews in Aberdeen.” And some learn young: you may meet them 
 in the street. A countryman heard a lad crying “Matches, three boxes a 
 penny.” Having invested a penny, he found the boxes only half full: told 
 the urchin of the roguery, he got the further comfort, ‘Hutz, man, ye need 
 na’ mind, for theyll no licht.” 
 
 The markets held in Aberdeen are on an extensive scale, and are dissimilar 
 to any I have seen in other parts of the country. There is one held in Castle 
 Street, one in the Market House, and a third at the back thereof, having an 
 old well as a centre: this last is called the Green Market, and is the subject 
 of the sketch; that under cover is for dairy produce, and it was a very great 
 treat to go through this market, and see the women sitting in long rows, com- 
 fortably dressed, and having a copious display of spotless white in caps and 
 shawls, and the butter and eggs and fowls all so well—so temptingly laid out. 
 Here also flowers were on sale, and many shops have permanent stances, and 
 sell souvenirs, &c.; here also, and in the gallery above, the butchers have their 
 benches ; while underneath are the fish-shops, 
 
 among them one kept by “the 
 Bonny Fishwife.” I had a look at her face, and while owning the justice of 
 her appellation, I know in her younger days she must have been very much 
 _ bonnier (more lovely). 
 
 The market with the old cross in Castle Street for a centre has various 
 attractions. ‘‘What is not here to be purchased?” is the question you incline 
 to ask. Many of the merchants, you would judge, have all their stock 
 carried thither, and the country people, instead of treading the hard pave- 
 ments of the streets for hours, can get all they desire at this weekly fair in a 
 short space of time. Here you find the confectioner and the fruiterer, the 
 new and old shoe-stall, displays of new clothes, screens hung with left-off 
 garments; here is the grocer, the cheesemonger, the vendor of small wares, 
 picture sellers, tool merchants, coopers and tinkers, also dealers in furniture, 
 and now and again noisy men selling universal medicines and other wonders, 
 and also the Birmingham salesman, with his caravan of goods to be given away 
 by Dutch auction at nominal prices. A walk by the shore is also of interest, 
 for the waves come with great force, and wrecks are frequent. I give a sketch 
 of one I saw when there, and though at the time I visited the scene the 
 storm had abated, the waves were no puny creatures without force,—they came 
 
 146 
 
nega 
 
 ABERDEEN HARBOUR. 
 
Wreck. im Aberdeen Bay. 
 
 with power and broke on the beach with a thud. The wrecked schooner 
 “Dunchattan” was on her way for Inverness; stress of weather caused the 
 master to make for Aberdeen Harbour; he mistook the lights, and finding his 
 ship abreast of the north pier, there was only left to him the option of running 
 
 WRECK OF THE “ DUNCHATTAN,” ABERDEEN BAY, 
 
 against the pier or on the beach; he chose the safer alternative, and ran ashore 
 opposite the lifeboat-house. After striking three or four times heavily, she 
 grounded about one hundred and fifty yards from the beach. ‘The tide was 
 almost full. Speedily the fishermen of Footdee manned the lifeboat and 
 rowed through the breakers to the rescue. Of the crew of four, three were 
 taken safely on board; the fourth fell between the lifeboat and the ship, a 
 wave having carried the boat from under him at the moment when he made 
 the leap: through his having taken a rope with him, he got into the vessel 
 again till the lifeboat got alongside and rescued him. Barely ten minutes 
 elapsed from the striking of the vessel till the time when the crew were landed. 
 
 ) 
 
 147 1 
 
In a Twopenny Show. 
 
 I was curious to have a peep at the shows that come to Aberdeen to provide 
 amusement for the people. .Down near the harbour is a corner where there is 
 a stance allowed them. I was well pleased with the tone: I do not think I 
 heard one word or saw aught that might not with perfect propriety be enacted 
 in any drawing-room of the kingdom. I am, happily, ignorant, so far as being 
 an eye-witness, of the tone of low music halls, of which such dark pictures are 
 given to us; and it is a joy to me to bear record that, even among what we are 
 accustomed to look upon as the lower stratum of society, there is an apprecia- 
 
 OLD ABERDEEN. 
 
 tion of exhibitions of what the gentleman who performed called “natural 
 science ” and “magical feats,” apart altogether from that pandering to baser 
 tastes, which is too often done in theatrical exhibitions. Another pleasant 
 incident is the confidence with which the Jittle boy or girl is sent round with 
 the hat after performing, and the general chinking of coppers that are cordially 
 dropped therein. In this case, Puss, the performing cat, a regular giant of 
 the feline race, was rather indisposed 
 
 had caught a heavy cold, and was 
 excused from exhibiting his skill; but we had fire-eating, magical multiplica- 
 tion of articles out of a hat, mesmerism, and the like. 
 Old Aberdeen, unlike Old Edinburgh, is a distance away from New. The 
 148 
 
Balgownte. 
 
 drawing of it engraved shows it in a November day, as the snows were coating 
 here and there the fields and hills beyond. It is interesting to walk to it, and 
 be shown through the old cathedral of St. Machar, also to walk by the Brig of 
 Don or Balgownie. Byron had seen it when a boy, and retained a vivid im- 
 pression of it: he thus refers to it. ‘‘ The Brig of Don, near the auld town of 
 Aberdeen, with its one arch and its deep black salmon stream below, is in my 
 
 BALGOWNIE BRIG, NEAR ABERDEEN, 
 
 memory as yesterday. I still remember, though perhaps I may misquote, the 
 awful proverb which made me cross to read it, and yet lean over it with 
 childish delight, being an only son, at least by the mother’s side. The saying, 
 as recollected by me, was this, but I have never heard nor seen it since I was 
 
 nine years of age: 
 ‘ Brig of Balgownie, black’s your wa’, 
 Wi’ a wife’s ae son, and a mare’s ae foal, 
 Doon ye shall fa’ !’” 
 
 Time was also spent pleasantly walking through the streets of New Aberdeen, 
 among the shipping, over the bleak-looking fields, whose sterility has by dint 
 of persevering labour been made to yield good harvests. It was a wonder to 
 look at some of the dykes formed of stones taken from the fields ; they were 
 high and some six or seven feet in thickness. There is also a charm about 
 the coast, along the cliffs, within sight, hearing, and breathing of the ocean 
 and her joyous sea-breezes, and away by the fishing stations, where the savoury 
 Aberdeen Finnon haddocks are smoked. A friend took me through a number 
 149 
 
From Aberdeen to Ballater. 
 
 of the Sabbath-schools: for management and hearty work they seemed to have 
 reached a high point; one seemed to have a thousand scholars of different 
 ages, all in perfect discipline. It is a favour to get admission to the school, 
 the superintendent often having to keep scholars waiting for some time till he 
 has a vacant place. They were all cheerful and happy, and not like the 
 morose creatures some people would picture their being in the land where 
 the milk the bairns get to drink is the Shorter Catechism. 
 
 The time in Aberdeen was spent so pleasantly, it flew fast, and only the call 
 of work tore me away from the Granite City and my friend’s bachelor hall. 
 
 ON THE DEE, FROM BALLATER. 
 
 The route I chose for the home-coming was z7@ Balmoral. The journey is by 
 rail as far as Ballater; the line for a great part of the way keeps within hail of 
 the River Dee, and leads through a considerable variety of wild Highland 
 moor and wood and mountain-land, by village and many castellated mansions 
 embowered amid trees, now almost leafless, for we were now fully launched 
 into the middle of bleak November. Snow-showers were frequent ; there had 
 been one mantling in snowy garb of mountain and valley, one blocking of the 
 line of rail; we were able to trace the places where the drift had been gathered 
 to the greatest depth: it lay unmelted in the corners of the fields, while up 
 among the hills a frosting of new-fallen snow displayed powerfully the form of 
 each knoll and slope, and rendered intensely green the dark Scotch firs. The 
 sky ’tween various moods was hovering; the grey predominated, but the gay 
 150 
 
BALMORAL, 
 
Balmoral. 
 
 would not be altogether hid. The blue peeped through, and the silver lining 
 was here and there telling that the sunward side of the grey clouds was all 
 aglow with light. We saw, too, over the whole landscape, the result of a 
 northern and a southern exposure: the one displayed dark earth or withered 
 grass, the other snow-lading, for the storm had come from the chilly north. 
 
 Ballater, on the afternoon of Monday, 13th November, looked dreary enough. 
 The hotels were deserted, the lodging-houses forsaken, the windows cased in 
 brown paper till another spring, the river inky in colour, the dark brow of 
 Craig-en-Darroch (the Rock of Oaks) reigned a very grim rock, with weather- 
 worn features, but who in summer-time sends down on the village he protects 
 floods of genial heat which his height enables him to catch as he looks on the 
 sun; and I saw little token of the great healing powers of the Wells of Pan- 
 nanich, for nobody was traceable in the grounds. 
 
 After a night in the temperance hotel, a walk the following morning in the 
 rain brought me in sight of the Scottish home of our much and justly-esteemed 
 Queen. Her Majesty was still in her Highland retreat, and our hearts beat in 
 fullest sympathy with her who loves so devotedly her mountain-girded palace ; 
 nor is it hard to unravel the taste that prefers communing with a few select 
 friends, and sacred never-to-be-forgotten memories, to the ceaseless routine of 
 official life. The whole district, despite the bleakness of November days, was 
 replete with pictures I may not endeavour to convey in words. My reader 
 who loves such scenes has hundreds of them in his own mind: they live there 
 intensely real, and yet if you try to put them on paper, the charm seems gone. 
 How can we communicate the thrill of joy that goes direct to the heart at the 
 sight of a shadow passing over a hill-side and sailing over a sullen stream, or 
 that which comes to us as glints of sunlight are playing sportively into distance 
 and foreground, or breathe to another the exhilarating influence of mountain 
 air? The Cairn-na-Quheen, or “Cairn of Remembrance,” on the north bank 
 of Dee—the gathering-spot where our forefathers met after being summoned 
 by the bearer of the fiery cross, as it was borne in haste by breathless runner 
 from strath to strath, and from hamlet to hamlet, is close by the river, and 
 commands a considerable extent of country. 
 
 The weather was too grey and cloudy to enable me to see the farthest hills, 
 and the mountain-land remains for future exploration, and also the dark Loch- 
 na-Gar, of which Byron so tellingly writes in his lines, contrasting gayer land- 
 scapes with the rugged grandeur and more congenial moods of that solemn 
 
 151 
 
Praemar. 
 
 mountain. A thorough wetting gave increased thankfulness for the comforts 
 of the “Invercauld Arms,” the little inn within two miles of Balmoral; and 
 towards evening of the next day, after the rain ceased, I thought it wise to be 
 
 CAIRN-NA-QUHEEN, BALMORAL. 
 
 on the move, and walked to Braemar. It was all under a very mysterious 
 influence—the woods, the hills, the river, and the mountains beyond, and so 
 also was the village. On the way the royal party passed, and I saw Her 
 Majesty, as if in a pensive semi-slumber reclining in the open carriage, going 
 homeward. . 
 The walk from Braemar village through the Braes of Mar to Glen Shee, 
 152 
 
it qi) 
 
 In 
 iil 
 sitet 
 
 BRAES OF MAR. 
 
z : Glen Shee. 
 
 was one of surpassing interest. The whole vale was filled with clouds of mist, 
 whose risings and fallings and transparent veilings gave a weird atmosphere 
 to the whole. For hours the clouds were manceuvring, and the uninitiated 
 traveller could easily be led to linger till nightfall among their revellings ; not 
 so the dwellers within some miles of this hill road. These clouds were about 
 to give the mountain leagues a copious benefit, and I had a good share 
 
 NEARING GLEN SHEE, 
 
 before the “ Invercauld Arms” at Glen Shee provided a welcome shelter. 
 How much we have in these days to be thankful for when travelling, if we 
 compare our circumstances with those of tourists a quarter or half a century 
 ago! Please read the very humorous note I have quoted in the Appendix from 
 Macculloch’s tour.” 
 
 And now just one sentence to describe my journey from Glen Shee to 
 Edinburgh. A rainy morning and a very rainy day enabled me to get a good 
 wetting, to see many gorgeous bits of colouring, to sketch Bridge of Cally 
 
 * Appendix. Note R. 
 
 1538 20 
 
Flastening FTonve. 
 
 when the river was in full spate, and to sympathize with a poor drooket pack- 
 man, who was bound for the inner reaches of the glen, to sell small wares and 
 national songs ; and it hastened me home, spending a night in the fair city of 
 Perth, and a couple of days in bonnie Dundee—both of which places I must 
 leave meantime, and hasten across the Tay, by rail through Fife, and over the 
 Firth in the ferry-boat, and say good night till we meet on a summer morning 
 in my study in the classic city of Edina. 
 
 GLEN SHEE. 
 
 154. 
 
 Lin ae a, 
 
 - 
 
SIS as 
 nN 
 Meme 
 Le 
 
 : il hei ns 
 
 NT 
 rea o iit fi 
 jy Nhu. ! ! 
 eet a ih 
 
 mt 
 
 CALLY. 
 
 BRIDGE OF 
 
ST. ANTHONY'S CHAPEL, EDINBURGH. 
 
 CHAP TR Cr 2 
 
 I HAVE described so much grey and rainy weather in the preceding chapters, 
 I will endeavour to give my reader a Ramble in which not a rain-shower is 
 allowed to intrude,.though, with our climate, it may prove rather a hard task. 
 
 As I write, I look out on a sultry scene from the cool bower afforded me in 
 my snug study in the artist quarter of our city. Nota fleck of cloud breaks 
 the blue canopy under which the landscape reposes. ‘The stone walls, grey 
 slated roofs, yellow-and-white-blinded windows, and the chimney-stalks of the 
 houses opposite, having pots with coats, figures, and positions much like 
 
 + 155 20—2 
 
Summer Days. 
 
 those of an awkward squad of militia recruits at drill. All are basking in the 
 sun’s strong rays. In a back plot of ground a group of children are out 
 playing with a ball, and greatly enjoying to sit down on a new garden-seat 
 “father” has bought for them: rigged out in new straw hats, they are happy 
 that the long long succession of cold damp days, which made fires and winter 
 clothes the companions of May and even early June, have said good bye; glad 
 the trees have at length a coating of green leafage sufficiently dense to throw 
 a shadow on the grass under which they may shelter at noon ; glad the flowers 
 are at length blossoming so copiously that they may cull one or two, and that 
 over the high walls a butterfly or a bee may come every now and again to 
 visit them. Over the tops of these houses is a dreamy landscape, with a 
 blending of cathedral, church, street, terrace, villa, and humble cottage, farm, 
 nursery garden, and the still place of tombs ; many a tree-row, wood-embowered 
 mansion, and white-walled home with red-tiled roof, repose amid the aerial 
 tints. ‘The Firth of Forth lies beyond, and farther still the sandy shores, 
 the hills, the plains, the fishing villages and the seaport towns of the kingdom 
 of Fife. Seaward, the eastern mists seal the view, barely letting us see the 
 white wall that crowns Inchkeith or its lighthouse tower. Westward were 
 beauteous blendings of the most delicate tintings, but all pale in tone. As you 
 continue to peer into it, the masses take shape and unfold fine tracings of form ; 
 but the glorious land beyond, the mountain-land that rises above the vale of 
 Forth, and has its home amid the lakes, which sometimes at eventide is unfolded 
 in regal splendour, when it has seemed as if the sun had chosen himself a 
 palace there, and had lain him down to rest, while these mountains kept guard 
 around him,—all this land was curtained off, to be seen only by those who 
 made a pilgrimage thither. 
 
 Yesterday I thought to have a ramble, and to enjoy some of the fine bits that 
 surround our classic city; but, alas! it was a day when the chief luxury of the 
 country was escaping from the town, and liberty to breathe the free air of 
 heaven. From early morning till midnight we had an Italian sky, minus the 
 clearness: we had the cloudlessness ; but the smoke of the city and the warm 
 haze that clung to the scene kept all the charming distances, which so greatly 
 enhance pictures of Edinburgh and its surroundings, vague as the shadows 
 of a dream or as if washed out under a layer of milk. In the city, wise people 
 chose the shady side of the streets and wore straw hats. A friend accom- 
 panied me on a leisurely walk to Penicuick. What did we see in our walk 
 
 : 166 « 
 
 : - . — 
 
A Country Walk. 
 
 thither? My friend was ever hoping I was taking notes, for he did not see 
 much noteworthy, but I have yet to see the mile of Scottish soil that is 
 devoid of beauty or interest. We had the new southern suburb of Grange, 
 a camp of villas, and the Crags at the back of Arthur's Seat, prominent among 
 them Samson’s Ribs, whose columnar rib-like structure the late Dr. Guthrie 
 used to view admiringly when he rose betimes to prepare the sermons he 
 preached with so much eloquence from the pulpit of Free St. John’s. We 
 
 CALTON HILL FROM ROSEBANK, 
 
 saw the Braid Hills faintly smiling through the haze. The woods long having 
 their glory undisplayed were now decked with regal robes; the hedgerows 
 were all rejoicing in mantles of emerald, and buddings of hawthorn blossom 
 gave additional lustre; and in the meadow-land near a little water-course 
 sparkling in the sunlight the blue sky lent a cool sheen to each upturned 
 blade and leaf; while the buttercups and the daisies embroidered with modest 
 blossoms nature’s carpeting. Some horses out of harness rolled thémselves 
 over and over among the clover; the ducks made for the stream ; the cot- 
 tagers were in the shadow of their homes, the children bareheaded; the 
 village carter wended his way for the city with a very miscellaneous store. 
 A travelling show was also city-bound, and the men seemed to be in their 
 own land, so warmly shone the sun while they sat in front of the caravan that 
 was their moving home: the last waggon contained the stock-in-trade for 
 erecting the theatre of amusements. At a farm we saw a company of six 
 
 157 
 
Penicutck. 
 
 shepherds shearing the sheep; the sheep presented a striking contrast before 
 and after clipping, for sheep who live near the city get a goodly share of 
 smoke, and often have coats that among Highland-bred sheep would give 
 them a reverend appearance: when clipped, they left the shearers’ hands like 
 new-fallen snow-flakes, while staid dames carried the begrimed fleece to have 
 it sewed into bags and weighed. The road-men were at the tedious work of 
 breaking their cubic measurement of road metal. One or two gigs and a 
 private carriage out-distanced the few foot passengers who were strolling by 
 the wayside. 
 
 .A QUIET NOOK NEAR EDINBURGH. 
 
 It is needless to enumerate the houses, the shops, the quarries, the kirks, and 
 the fields we passed, or to give the names of the roadside wild flowers, though 
 we continuously met some new feature that would have repaid a careful descrip- 
 tion. We were thankful to get a quiet resting-place out of the sunshine in 
 a Penicuick temperance refreshmentroom, where the purveyor is general 
 merchant, baker, dealer in toys, bookseller, reading-room keeper, and librarian, 
 —a man who has taken a leaf from the Canadian books, and has on the walls 
 and wooden palings of the country-side for miles round, “ OatT-CAKES ARE 
 MADE DatLy By JAMES BLACK, PENICUICK.” 
 
 After refreshment we asked our way for the hills (the Pentlands), and by 
 rugged path ’tween fields and over the grass, by rippling burn and bare hill-side, 
 and young fir-trees and whins, we wandered, not careful to keep to the beaten 
 
 158 
 
 — 
 
 ——————E———— 
 
Over the Pentland Hills. 
 
 track. On reaching’ the Compensation Ponds, I found it hard to restrain my 
 companion from breaking through all bounds, and having a swim in the 
 reservoir which supplies Edinburgh’s thousands with water. We saw a little 
 side pool, where hundreds of small minnows were basking in the sunshine: 
 they were about an inch and a half long; others, about double the size, were 
 sailing up and down with much liveliness and grace. We threw some bread 
 to them, but it had no attracting power; one or two took a bite, but it made 
 no fight and general feast as we anticipated. The road over the hill was tame, 
 
 and lacking in those grand features we looked for, and which I recollect 
 
 COTTAGE NEAR EDINBURGH, WITH THE PENTLAND HILLS.IN THE DISTANCE, 
 
 seeing-on my last visit. ‘The haze was one reason ; the other was, my last was 
 a boyish visit, when I climbed three of the highest points of the Pentlands, 
 and roamed altogether independent of road or mountain-track. I thought 
 now to revisit the shepherd’s cottage where, on a summer morning at six 
 o’clock, we arrived, after having walked some nine or ten miles. Our 
 mission was to bring the bees to let them feed on the heather for some 
 weeks. It was a morning of mornings, and our companion,—a very worthy 
 man, a blacksmith, one of the most independent and humblest of men, a 
 lover of all that is beautiful, fond of poetry, and who frequently wrote homely 
 sparkling verses. I lodged for some time with him, and enjoyed his company 
 much. I was ever pointing out some new glory in the sky. He said so 
 characteristically to me, “ Ay, John, man, but ye hae an awfw wark wi’ thae 
 159 
 
The Sights of Edinburgh. 
 
 clouds. I hope ye’ll dwell abune them one day.” He is a man who makes 
 little profession of religion, and in a meeting has extreme reluctance to let his 
 voice be heard; but if there is a sick one within many miles, he will make 
 for that home after his day of hard work, and minister to them; and every 
 Sabbath he has the bairns round about gathered into his kitchen, to tell them 
 in his own simple manner the story of the Cross of Christ. We found the 
 shepherd’s cottage all closed,—not a voice or an echo,—and we turned from 
 it with a little sadness, as I had hoped to renew acquaintance with the good 
 friends who dwelt there. He and his mother have gone to have a farm of 
 their own ; the shepherd who is to take his place had not yet come to occupy. 
 As we looked towards the place where Edina’s castellated rock and stately 
 streets have their location, we could see only the mists from the Firth of Forth, 
 as the sun from its westward-gliding course warmed them, while the whole of 
 the fertile vale was mellowed into a land of dreamy shadows. 
 
 At Currie we again halted, and from our retreat we looked out on the Water 
 of Leith, whose banks are there very rugged, and gaily clothed with leafage 
 and wild flowers, while her bed has many rocks. It was about midnight, and 
 the moon’s pale rays were beaming as we walked homeward by the banks of 
 the canal, and enjoyed the cool atmosphere and the placid pictures on every 
 side of us. 
 
 We must not think to ramble round Edinburgh farther, but rather give a 
 few general jottings, commending the reader who is a stranger to the city to 
 the guides, who will be delighted to lead him through all the sights, and these 
 are very many. They include the Palace of Holyrood, the Regalia at the 
 Castle, the National Gallery, Antiquarian and Industrial Museums, the dif- 
 ferent monuments from which extensive sights are commanded, and the special 
 attractions that vary with the season and the fashion. Also the pleasing ex- 
 cursions that may be enjoyed in summer by rail and steamboat, tramway car 
 or hired carriage, to our seaboard villages, or inland beauteously-wooded and 
 stream-enlivened retreats. Wherever one wanders, the general view of Edin- 
 burgh—the vantage it holds from its position as a city set upon hills overlooking 
 a wide stretch of country, a winding river, and a beauteous Firth—will draw 
 out one’s heartiest admiration. From Arthur’s Seat, the Crags, the Calton Hill, 
 the Castle, or Corstorphine Hills, the beautiful position of Edina is seen. While 
 walking along Princes Street the grand old rock and the giant houses to the 
 east of it are seen to great advantage: the veteran piles of stone and lime are 
 
 160 
 
Princes Street. 
 
 becoming fewer, and newer buildings fill their place. Lovers of old Edinburgh, 
 who knew it fifty years ago, what would they think if they could have one walk 
 along the Princes Street of that day, and could look on the Old Town as it 
 then was, and a walk along the Princes Street of 1877? ‘The changes have 
 come little by little, but most surely the old marks have been disappearing, 
 and we know not what wondrous changes the schoolboy of this year may see 
 if he live for half a century. Princes Street has now many handsome hotels 
 and shops: those retaining their old architecture are by force of contrast 
 
 PEEP OF EDINBURGH FROM THE NORTH-EAST. 
 
 rendered poor and bald, and will soon have to give place. George Street 
 has fewer buildings that have altered their frontage; but Leith Walk has quite 
 changed its character, and is now the link that binds in one strong bond the 
 seaport town to its queenly city. Within my own memory a large part of it 
 was without houses, and there were long rows of quaint one-storied dwellings 
 occupied by small shopkeepers, bird-sellers, showmen, menders of shoes, and 
 makers of sweetmeats. This locality was known as “the miserable row.” 
 The nursery gardens had a large space allocated to them ; now there are 
 streets of tall houses fronting and branching into the Walk ; and viewed from 
 the Calton Hill, it is evident that Edinburgh and Leith are one. Westward 
 and southward the city is environed with villa-lined roads and new churches. 
 Tram-lines and cars enable the business men to go out and in with ease. 
 
 For many years we have been told of dull bad trade; yet the houses 
 
 161 21 
 
Royal Scottish Academy. 
 
 multiply, and those who lived in £10 houses rise to occupy those with a rent 
 of £20; and so on, till you find thousands of householders living in hand- 
 some self-contained houses, with gardens in front, who some years back were 
 dwellers in what Scotch folk call a flat. The chief art attraction we have is 
 our annual Royal Scottish Academy Exhibition of paintings, open from the 
 middle of February to the end of April. The works by native resident artists 
 display valuable qualities—an appreciation of nature and a love of colour. 
 Comparatively few come to tackle important subjects, or take a high place as 
 draughtsmen, though we have some men who are strong in this also ; and the 
 walls are enriched year by year by specimens from the studios of thee London 
 Scottish artists—those who have left Edina for the great national centre, but 
 whose hearts are still in a great measure in the Highlands. Every Exhibition 
 has choice bits from the English and foreign schools. Many of our great 
 lights have ceased to shine, and we miss them. How students rejoiced to 
 gather round the glowing colour in John Philips’ works, and to admire the 
 poetry, so truly Scottish, that breathed in the pictures of our late President, 
 Sir George Harvey! while lovers of mountain. and lake were refreshed to 
 look on Maccullock’s mirror-like reflections of these scenes. Nor will we soon 
 forget the works of Dyce, Sir John Watson Gordon, and Graham Gilbert or 
 David Roberts. We have here, as in other parts, two schools or styles,— 
 colourists, and subject painters or designers ; and for some time the student is 
 apt to make shipwreck between the two, particularly if he meets with indiscreet 
 advocates of either, I believe Mr. Sam Bough’s advice to a young student is 
 excellent: ‘Learn to draw ; your eye for colour is good, but little use till you 
 learn to draw ; you’ll never make saut to yer kail till ye learn to draw.” A 
 new Exhibition is now opened at the west end of the city in connection with 
 an institution called the Albert Institute. We are encouraged to hope it will 
 stimulate the younger artists to produce better pictures, and encourage the sale 
 of good work. We have scope for more national art: all our Highlands and 
 
 islands are teeming with histories and traditions, manners and customs, and © 
 
 scenes worthy of the life-labours of our most gifted sons, yet few care to ven- 
 
 ture into this field. It needs a born Highlander to understand aright our 
 
 Scottish Highlanders, and to gather from them all the lore they know, so as 
 
 to give to us pictures that will live in after ages. The Covenanting pictures by 
 
 Sir George Harvey are a very near realization of that which I refer to. His 
 
 heart breathed alike in sympathy with the men and their land. He entered 
 162 
 
 — 
 
my 
 
 Ht 
 
 VIEW ‘FROM WEST PRINCES STREET GARDENS, EDINBURGH. 
 
Sir George Harvey. 
 
 into the very soul of the subjects he painted, like an actor who lives the part 
 he plays. He became a part of, or had his soul in, such pictures as “ Leaving 
 of Manse” and “ Battle of Drumclog,” and also in the landscapes of his later 
 years, which wooed our hearts to increase of love and admiration of our native 
 country—its quiet glades as well as its rugged mountains or stern rock coast. 
 I would that these Illustrated Rambles in ever so faint a degree may call 
 forth in other minds and hearts sympathies like to those awakened in me by 
 the works of this great master of painting, then the labour will not have been 
 
 in vain. 
 
 ] 
 i 
 
 | ii 
 
 ‘nic 
 
 A LITTLE BIT OF THE OLD TOWN OF EDINBURGH. 
 
 te 
 
 165 21—z 
 
i e 
 
 iS 
 a 
 
_ t 
 2 . 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
THE TAY ABOVE DUNDEE. 
 
 Pelee Dente De LoXe 
 
 Note A. INCHCOLM. 
 
 The ancient name of the island was A’mona, which in Celtic means ‘the 
 Island of the Druids,” so that it would appear that, before the introduction of 
 Christianity, the Druids had a place of worship here. After Christianity had 
 been introduced the island seems to have been taken possession of by some 
 of the followers of St. Columba, who here erected a small chapel dedicated to 
 that saint; and from that circumstance the present name of the island is 
 derived. About the year 1123 Alexander I., in consequence of having found . 
 refuge here from a terrible tempest while he was crossing the Firth, and in 
 fulfilment of a vow made by him at the crisis of his peril, founded on the 
 island and richly endowed a monastery for Augustinian canons-regular, dedi- 
 cating it to St. Columba. Allan de Mortimer, Lord of Aberdour, gave to the 
 monks the moiety of the lands of his town of Aberdour for a burying-place to 
 himself and his posterity in their church. 
 
 -—The Imperial Gazetteer of Scotland. Fullarton & Co., Edinburgh. 
 167 
 
Appendix. 
 
 Nore Bo? Dae BASSeROcK.~ 
 
 This work 1s the joint production of various authors. It contains ‘‘The 
 Civil and Ecclesiastical History of the Bass,” by the Rev. Thomas M‘Crie; 
 “The Geology of the Bass,” by Hugh Miller; ‘“‘The Martyrs of the Bass,” by 
 the Rev. James Anderson; “The Zoology of the Bass,” by John Fleming, 
 D.D., F.R.S.E., Professor of Natural Science in the New College, Edinburgh ; 
 “The Botany of the Bass,” by John Hutton Balfour, M.D., F.R.S.E., Professor 
 of Botany in the University of Edinburgh. 
 
 Note C. ‘“ THE MARTYRS OF THE BAss.” 
 
 The Rey. Mr. Anderson in the above work gives a list of thirty-nine men, 
 principally preachers of the Gospel, who were confined in the dungeons of the 
 Bass for adherence to Presbyterian principles at the time when Charles II. 
 had, by getting his Parliament to pass an Act giving to him supreme power in 
 Church matters, established Prelacy. He also gives us the biographies of 
 many of their number. The following is the epitaph on the tombstone erected 
 in North Berwick Churchyard to John Blackadder, one of the most prominent 
 of the Bass martyrs : 
 
 “Blest John, for Jesus’ sake, in Patmos bound, 
 His prison Bethei, Patmos, Pisgah found ; 
 So the bless’d John, on yonder rock confined,— 
 His body suffer’d, but no chains could bind 
 His heaven-aspiring soul: while day by day, 
 As from Mount Pisgah’s top he did survey 
 The promised land, and view’d the crown by faith 
 Laid up for those who faithful are to death. 
 Grace formed him in the Christian Hero’s mould,— 
 Meek in his own concerns—in’s Master’s bold; 
 Passions to Reason chained, Prudence did lead— 
 Zeal warm’d his breast, and Reason cool’d his head. 
 Five years on the lone rock, yet sweet abode, 
 He Enoch-like enjoyed, and walk’d with God; 
 Till by long living on this heavenly food, 
 His soul by love grew up too great, too good 
 To be confined to jail, or flesh and blood. 
 Death broke his fetters off, then swift he fled 
 From sin and sorrow; and by angels led, 
 Enter’d the mansions of eternal joy ;— 
 Blest soul, thy warfare’s done, praise, love, enjoy. 
 His dust here rests till Jesus come again,— 
 Even so, blest Jesus, come,—come, Lord. Amen.” 
 
 168 
 
Appendix. 
 
 Note D.~ INCHKEITH. 
 
 In the early autumn of 1497 Edinburgh was visited by plague, and Inch- 
 keith was used as the hospital. The following is an extract from an order 
 from the Privy Council to the magistrates of Edinburgh, dated September, 
 1497, directing “that all manner of persons within the freedom of this burgh 
 who are infected of the contagious plague called the grangore, devoid, rid, and 
 pass furth of this town, and compeer on the sands of Leith at ten hours before 
 noon, and there shall have and find boats ready in the harbour, ordered them 
 by the officers. of this burgh, ready furnished with victuals, to have them to 
 the Inch (Inchkeith), and there to remain quhill God provide for their 
 
 ’ and further, that all who were infected with the plague and did not 
 
 health ;’ 
 proceed to the Inch should be ‘“‘brynt on the cheeke with the marking-irne, 
 that they may be kennit in time.to cum.” 
 
 —MaltTLanv’s Listory of Edinburgh. 
 
 Note E. NEIL Gow. 
 
 A famed native musician. Born 1727, died 1807. ‘A short, stout-built, 
 honest Highland figure, with his greyish hair shed on his honest social brow ; 
 an interesting face, marking strong sense, kind open-heartedness, mixed with 
 unmistrusting simplicity.” —RosertT Burns. 
 
 Note F. Arr-BaTu. 
 
 Lixtract of Letter from Dr. Benjamin Franklin to M. Duboursg. 
 
 **London, July 28, 1768. 
 “T oreatly approve the epithet which you give in your letter of the 8th of 
 June to the new method of treating small-pox, which you call the /onic or 
 bracing method. I will take occasion from it to mention a practice to which 
 I have accustomed myself. You know the cold bath has long been in vogue 
 here as a tonic, but the shock of the cold water has always appeared to me, 
 generally speaking, as too violent, and I have found it much more agreeable 
 to my constitution to bathe in another element—I mean cold air. With this 
 169 22, 
 
A ppen AIX. 
 
 view I rise early almost every morning, and sit in my chamber without any 
 clothes whatever half an hour or an hour, according to the season, either 
 reading or writing. This practice is not in the least painful, but, on the 
 contrary, agreeable; and if I return to bed afterwards before I dress myself, 
 as sometimes happens, I make a supplement to my night’s rest of one or two 
 hours of the most pleasing sleep that can be imagined. I find no ill con- 
 sequences whatever resulting from it; and that at least it does not injure my 
 health, if it does not, in fact, contribute much to its preservation. I shall 
 therefore call it for the future a bracing or tonic bath.” 
 
 Note G. RosbertT BURNS ON ROBERT FERGUSON. 
 
 “*My elder brother in misfortune, 
 By far my elder brother in the muses, 
 
 “T}l-fated genius! heaven-taught Ferguson ! 
 What heart that feels and will not yield a tear, 
 To think life’s sun did set ere well begun 
 To shed its influence on thy bright career? - 
 Oh! why should truest worth and genius pine 
 Beneath the iron grasp of want and woe, 
 While titled knaves and idiot greatness shine 
 In all the splendour fortune can bestow?” 
 
 —From Lvographical Memoir of Ferguson. W. & R. Chambers. 
 
 Note H. Sir WILLIAM WALLACE (DARK SKETCH). 
 
 “At the same time there was in Scotland a certain young man (juzenzis ), 
 William le Walles by name, an archer, who sought his food with his bow and 
 quiver, born and brought up in the very dregs of the population, even among 
 outlaws.” — Wallace Papers; p. 8. 
 
 “There was a certain public robber, William Valays by name, who had 
 often been outlawed, finding himself a vagabond, he gathered together.” 
 
 — Wallace Papers, p. 33. 
 
 Note I. Sir WiLt1AM WaLLACE (PORTRAIT IN BRIGHT Noonpay 
 SUNLIGHT), 
 
 “Tn that same year the illustrious soldier William Wallace, the hammer 
 and whip of Englishmen, son of a noble knight of the same name, lifted up 
 170 
 
Appendix. 
 
 his head; and when he saw how his people were trodden down, and the 
 possessions of the Scots given into the hand of the enemy, his heart was 
 grieved, and he was exceeding sorrowful. The same had his stature tall, his 
 body bigger than common men, his face gentle, his expression joyful,. his 
 shoulders broad, his bones great, his belly shapely, his sides clean sloping, his 
 look comely, but his eyes piercing; his thighs were broad and his arms and 
 legs sinewy, his hands very hard, and in all his limbs he was very strong and 
 well knit together. Moreover, the Most High, who had marked his ever- 
 - changing expression with a kind of gracious brightness, gave him also an 
 heavenly gift of grace in word and deed, so that to see him was enough to 
 make the hearts of all Scotchmen who were true love him and incline toward 
 him. No wonder! In gifts he was most bountiful, in judgment most upright, 
 to the sorrowing most tender, in advising most wise, in suffering. most patient, 
 in speech most deep. His greatest abhorrence was for falsehood and lying, 
 his uttermost loathing for treason; and therefore was the Lord with him, 
 through whom he was a man whose every work prospered in his hand. 
 
 “He venerated the Church, he respected the clergy, he supported the poor 
 widows, he poured kindness upon little children and orphans, he relieved the 
 oppressed, he warred against thieves and robbers, and executed justice and 
 severe punishment on them without reward. God, in whose sight his righteous 
 works were exceedingly well pleasing, ordered all his works for him. He 
 almost at.the beginning of his warfare slew, in the town of Lanark, the Sheriff 
 
 of Lanark, an Englishman,” &c. 
 —Forpun. From Wallace Papers, p. 103. 
 
 NoTE J. Bric o’ Turk. 
 
 This to the artist is one of the most advantageous places wherein to find a 
 quiet lodging during the summer months. Its proximity to Loch Katrine and 
 the Trosachs, the rich variety of Glen Finlas, and the fine foreground bits 
 that abound everywhere, combined with the truly picturesque homes of the 
 people, make it a place to be desired. I reached it on my first visit at a late 
 hour on a dark night, and had difficulty in finding the cottage where a brother 
 artist told me to go. When I did reach it I found the good woman of the 
 house about to retire with her large family of small children. She promised 
 
 171 22-—2 
 
Appendix. 
 
 me a bed in an outhouse, but said I might go in and see the gentleman who 
 had rented the house where she lives in the winter months. I went, and as 
 artist brothers we became good friends. He let me see all his pictures, and 
 we had art news and views along with our coffee. His son slept with himself, 
 and vacated his bed for me. Next morning after breakfast the father read a 
 small portion of God’s Word, and engaged shortly in prayer with his family. 
 Thereafter they—the father, the son, and the daughter—went each to paint 
 from nature the subjects they had on the easel, and I got a lodging on the 
 other side of Finlas Water, and found the glen was well stocked with knights 
 of the brush. In the evening I visited the stout old lady known over Scotland 
 as Big Kate Ferguson, and heard her sing, or rather squeak, ‘‘ My Nannie’s 
 awa’.” She had staying with her a very small slim woman, and the contrast 
 was indeed striking. 
 
 Note K. Bropick Bay. 
 
 James Wilson, in his “ Voyage round the Coasts of Scotland and the Isles,” * 
 describes crab-catching in the early morning at Brodick Bay. 
 
 ‘We remember during a former visit being witness to what was to us a 
 novel mode of catching crabs. We happened to be astir ina small boat in 
 Brodick Bay about three o’clock one beautiful summer morning, Our chief 
 object was to watch the soft uprising of those ‘fleecy folds, voluminous and 
 vast,’ which during early morning hours brood over the yet sombre valleys at 
 the base of Goat Fell, and to watch the rosy tints as they descended from peak 
 
 to peak, while 
 ‘Fair Aurora lifted up her head, 
 All blushing rose from old St. Mona’s bed.’ 
 
 But we soon perceived two men ina small craft who seemed quite unconscious 
 that 
 
 “The flaming chariot of the world’s great eye’ 
 
 was now almost upon them. Their little boat hung motionless on the wave- 
 less mirror of the bay in about ten feet depth of water; and after for a minute 
 or thereby holding their faces close upon the surface, they seemed suddenly to 
 pull a long pole out of the water with something adhering to its extremity. 
 We soon found that they were taking advantage of the glassy stillness of the 
 water to overlook the early walk of crabs. They no sooner saw these crusty 
 
 172 
 
Appendix. 
 
 crustaceans on the subaqueous sand, than they poked them behind with their 
 long staves. The crabs turned round to revenge the indignity, and, like 
 Russian gen-d’armes, seized upon the unsuspecting poles. These latter were 
 slightly shaken by the fishermen as if in pain or terror; the angry creatures 
 clung all the closer, and were then rapidly hoisted into the boat.” 
 
 , 
 
 Note L. Srory rrom Mrs. GRANT’s “ ESSAYS ON THE SUPERSTITIONS 
 Yor TH HiIGHLANDERS.” 
 
 **A woman in very humble life hearing that a person whom she was accus- 
 tomed to regard as a superior was inconsolable for the loss of a favourite child, 
 and neglected her duties and friends to abandon herself to unavailing sorrow, 
 she (the poor woman) pressed boldly in to give her a lesson of resignation, in 
 gratitude, as she said, for some kindness she had owed her. 
 
 “The lesson was very forcible, though simple; and what may appear very 
 extraordinary when it is considered that this comforter could not read, many 
 Scriptural arguments were quoted. This, however, is not unusual. 
 
 “In the process of her discourse she illustrated her argument, as those 
 people never fail to do, with tales of apparitions, of which two may serve as a 
 specimen. 
 
 “The first, of a man to whose name and pedigree her hearer was no stranger, 
 and who had lived about fifty years before in Glen Banchar. Now, Glen 
 Banchar of all places of human habitation is the most dreary and detached, 
 and in winter the most stormy and inaccessible. 
 
 “There was, however, much summer grazing about it; and its remoteness 
 and the rocky barriers with which nature had surrounded it saved from all 
 encroachment the few daring tenants who risked their lives by wintering there. 
 They grew wealthy in cattle; and as none but themselves understood the art 
 of managing them during the stormy season in that recess, their rent was never 
 heightened, and they lived in their own way in great plenty and comfort. 
 
 “One peasant in particular, whose wealth, wisdom, and beneficence gave 
 him great sway in this elevated hamlet, was fortunate in all respects but one. 
 
 “He had three very fine children, who all in succession died after having 
 been weaned, though before they gave every promise of health and firmness, 
 Both parents were much afflicted, but the father’s grief was’ clamorous and 
 
 173 
 
Appendix. 
 
 unmanly. They resolved that the next should be suckled for two years, hoping 
 by this to avoid the repetition of sucha misfortune. They did so, and the 
 child by living longer only took a firmer hold of their affections, and furnished 
 more materials for sorrowful recollection. At the close of the second year he . 
 followed his brothers, and there were no bounds to the affliction of the parents. 
 
 “There are, however, in the economy of Highland life certain duties and 
 courtesies which are indispensable, and for the omission of which nothing can 
 apologize. 
 
 “One of these is to call in all their friends and feast them at the time of 
 the greatest family distress. 
 
 “The death of the child happened late in spring, when sheep were abroad 
 in the more inhabited straths, but from the blasts in that high and stormy 
 region were still confined to the cot. 
 
 “On a dismal snowy evening, the man, unable to stifle his anguish, went 
 out, lamenting aloud, for a lamb to treat his friends with at the late-wake. At 
 the door of the cot, however, he found a stranger standing before the entrance. 
 
 ‘“‘He was astonished on such a night to meet a person so far from any 
 frequented place. The stranger was plainly attired, but had a countenance 
 expressive of singular mildness and benevolence; and, addressing him in a 
 sweet, impressive voice, asked him what he did there amidst the tempest. 
 He was filled with awe, which he could not account for, and said that he 
 came for a lamb. ‘What kind of lamb do you mean to take?’ said the 
 stranger. ‘The very best I can find,’ he replied, ‘as it is to entertain my 
 friends; and I hope you will share of it.’ ‘Do your sheep make any resist- 
 ance when you take away the lamb, or any disturbance afterwards?’ ‘ Never,’ 
 was the answer. ‘ How differently am I treated,’ said the traveller, ‘when I 
 come to visit my sheepfold! I take, as I am well entitled to do, the best 
 lamb to myself, and my ears are filled with the clamour of discontent by- these 
 ungrateful sheep, whom I have fed, watched, and protected.’ 
 
 ‘“‘He looked up in amaze, but the vision was fled. He went, however, for 
 the lamb, and brought it home with alacrity. He did more. It was the 
 custom of these times—a custom, indeed, which was not extinct till after 1745 
 —for people to dance at late-wakes. It was a mournful kind of movement, 
 but still it was dancing. 
 
 “The nearest relation of the deceased often began the ceremony weeping, 
 but did, however, begin it, to give the example of fortitude and resignation. 
 
 174 
 
Appendix. 
 
 “This man on other occasions had been quite unequal to the performance 
 of this duty, but at this time he immediately, on coming in, ordered music to 
 begin, and danced the solitary measure appropriate to such occasions. 
 
 “The reader must have very little sagacity or knowledge of the purport and 
 consequences of visions who requires to be told that many sons were born, 
 lived, and prospered afterwards in this reformed family.” 
 
 Note M. Tiree COTTAGES. 
 
 The Tiree fishermen occupy a hut of small dimensions. So also do the poor 
 people who reside at the moss, or settlement for those who pay no rent; while 
 the crofters, who have some land under cultivation, have a better house to live 
 in, and the necessary complement of outhouses, generally built in a row, as 
 shown in the engraving of the farmer’s house. These houses have walls of 
 great thickness (between six and seven feet) ; have an inner and an outer wall, 
 and a layer of sand between the two. The rafters supporting the roof rest on 
 the inner building. The outer protrudes beyond the thatch, is flat on the top, 
 grows on its ample surface a goodly store of grass and weeds, and it is not at 
 all unusual to see the sheep grazing there. 
 
 The straw-thatched roofs are well weighted with stones, to save them from 
 being blown off by the fierce storms that sweep over the island. The well-to- 
 do crofters have most comfortable homes, and substantial articles of furniture, 
 and places for storing meal and other produce of the farm. The windows in 
 many cases were large; and the whitewash and the flowers and sea-shell 
 decking gave them a cheerful look. Some have their walls all boarded. This 
 makes them look better, but I am inclined to think the other is healthier in the 
 case of all the smaller houses. 
 
 = Note N.. BEN BLAVEN. 
 
 “OQ Blaven, rocky Blaven ! 
 How I long to be with you again, 
 To see lashed gulf and gully 
 Smoke white in the windy rain— 
 
 175 
 
Appendix. 
 
 To see in the scarlet sunrise 
 
 ‘The mist-wreaths perish with heat, 
 
 The wet rock slide with a trickling gleam 
 
 Right down to the cataract’s feet ; 
 
 While towards the crimson islands 
 
 Where the sea-birds flutter and skirl, 
 
 A cormorant flaps o’er a steep ocean floor 
 
 Of tremulous mother-of-pearl. 
 
 The silent dews that heaven distils 
 
 At midnight on the lonely hills; 
 
 The shower that all the mountain dims, 
 
 On which the lordly rainbow swims ; 
 
 The torrents from the thunder gloom 
 
 Let loose as by the stroke of doom; 
 
 The whirling waterspout, that cracks 
 
 Into a hundred cataracts, 
 
 Are swallowed by the thirsty ground, 
 
 And day and night without a sound, 
 
 Through banks of marl and belts of ores, 
 
 They filter through its million pores, 
 
 Losing each foul and turbid stain ; 
 
 And fed by many a trickling vein, 
 
 The well through silent days and years 
 
 Fills slowly, like an eye with tears.” 
 —ALEXANDER SMITH. 
 
 Note O. THE GAELIC SCHOOL-HOUSE, ISLE OF SKYE. 
 
 Boisterous weather frequently imprisoned me in my lonely lodging at Sten- 
 scholl Inn, Staffin Bay. The view from the parlour window was bleak enough 
 in stormy weather. It looks southward to the “Storr Rock,” and includes 
 seven miles of moss and moor, about twoscore of crofters’ thatched huts, the 
 English school-house, the auld kirk, and the minister’s manse. 
 
 Having heard that there was a Gaelic school in the neighbourhood, I chose 
 a day when the weather prevented “climbing to the Cuiraing” or “boating in 
 the bay” to visit it. On pacing the mile of cart-road between the inn and 
 this school, some of the native cottages are seen, and I often saw a lunatic—a 
 man of middle height, about thirty years of age, with bare head and bosom 
 and bare legs, a garb of claret-coloured homespun tweed of indescribable cut. 
 This day he seemed to vie with the ducks in the enjoyment of the drenching 
 rain. Drooket Skye wives and maidens I met going to and coming from the 
 “mill with the last of the corn or barley from the stack. The sheep had left 
 the moorland common, and, in company with ponies and cattle, sheltered 
 from the fierceness of the blast at the gable-ends and side-walls of the build- 
 
 176 
 
Appendix. 
 
 ings. The Cuiraing was mantled in clouds, much as it was that day when, 
 despite the rain, we cooked our chops for dinner at its base, and were witness 
 of the wrath of a shepherd who, with many oaths, drove our pony and its 
 attendant foal away, giving first a fierce volley at our dragoman, a youth of 
 some sixteen years, and next at the innocent mare; and all this after he had 
 granted permission to us toe let the pony graze at the foot of the hill while we 
 sketched at the top. 
 
 The streamlets from Cuiraing were full and foaming; the burn near the 
 Gaelic school-house had overflowed its banks, and inside the building we saw 
 one of the quaintest gatherings of kilted lads and sweet wee Skye girls, not 
 over-warmly clad, some of the more delicate shivering with cold; and one or 
 two, for lack of other, with clothes greatly bigger than themselves. In a circle 
 they gathered round the fire. It is not one of the most pleasing occupations 
 listening to a Gaelic lesson, though in this case the master’s mouth was itself a 
 study as he threw out the sounds for the little ones to imitate. In honour of 
 a stranger visiting the school he bade them cheer and clap their hands. They 
 were good at that. Not so at the after exercise, viz., a singing lesson. The 
 master had neither a musical ear nor a musical voice, and he made sad, sad 
 work of “There is a happy land far, far away.” The school-house singing 
 would not awake the most joyful anticipations of the bliss promised in the 
 
 line, 
 “There we shall sweetly sing.” 
 
 I am told he is a good Gaelic teacher, and he was a good man, whose 
 character was everywhere esteemed, but underpaid. ‘These schools are fast 
 disappearing and giving place to better. The labourer is worthy of his hire ; 
 and those who devote their lives to this most arduous work have need to be 
 maintained comfortably. 
 
 Note P. SACRAMENTAL GATHERING AT STORNOWAY. 
 
 “On Sunday evening, the community of Stornoway was shocked by hearing 
 that a man and woman had been run over by a horse and cart, and the woman 
 killed. The report proved to be too true. Sunday being the half-yearly com- 
 munion in connection with the Free Church, there was a large gathering of 
 people from all parts of the island, and even from the mainland. Fully five 
 
 177 28 
 
Appendix. 
 
 thousand persons met in an enclosed park on the outskirts of the town, the 
 services being chiefly conducted by Dr. Kennedy of Dingwall. The proceed- 
 ings lasted from eleven o’clock until after six P.M. No less than seven tables 
 were served, and there were nearly eight hundred communicants. At the 
 close, when the multitude dispersed, the roads were densely crowded—more 
 especially the road leading past the Sandwick Manse, about a mile from 
 Stornoway. There.were several horses and carts conveying persons home ; 
 and one of these, driven by Donald Mackenzie, a lad of thirteen, son of a 
 fisherman from Knock, started at a gallop. The cart struck a seaman, named 
 John Macdonald, from Sandwick Hill, and knocked: him down, passing over 
 his legs. A few yards beyond, the horse knocked down an old woman, and 
 one of the wheels passed over her head. ‘The horse was then stopped by the 
 people on the road. The poor woman expired in a few seconds, the wheel 
 having passed over the head behind the ear. She was ascertained to be the 
 wife of Alex. Mackay,.a crofter from Garbost, and about sixty years of age. 
 The lad who drove the horse and cart has since been apprehended. It is 
 alleged by some that he was galloping to get past another horse and cart, 
 and by others that he had lost control of the horse, which was easily frightened. 
 Great sympathy is felt for theehusband and family of the deceased, who are 
 very respectable persons.” 
 
 The above paragraph appeared in the “ Inverness Courier” on August 31st, 
 1876. These open-air communion services are common in the Western 
 Highlands. I witnessed one on not so large a scale at Portree. The sight 
 was a very solemn one; we Southrons are apt to say too solemn: we will not 
 judge. If it is godly sorrow for sin, and sympathy with Him who died for us, 
 saddens them, it is well; if it is hard thoughts of God, or a too exclusive 
 dwelling upon the greatness and the power of Him who reigneth in heaven, 
 and a shutting out of the glorious light of His love, it is to be regretted. I 
 have attended very many Highland religious meetings, some in Gaelic, a 
 language I do not understand. ‘There is a tone of extreme sadness seems to 
 run through all, and in meeting with individual Christians, who had spent 
 much of their time under native teaching, the same element was very strongly 
 developed. It may be that modern teaching in the south gives too little 
 attention to deep inwrought convictions concerning the exceeding sinfulness 
 of sin; but on the other hand there is need in the Highlands for McCheney’s 
 advice—for one look at self take ten at Christ. 
 
 178 
 
Appendix. 
 
 I was at Stornoway when the lad was tried for his reckless: driving. The 
 evidence had all to be translated by an interpreter, and the oath administered 
 in alike manner. It was most touching to see the old man whose wife had 
 been killed giving evidence, and many of the men of the district. I have 
 seldom seen a finer set of fishermen, so fine-looking, so well dressed, and 
 intelligent. The case was tried before the Sheriff by jury, and the verdict was, 
 I think, three months’ imprisonment. 
 
 NoTE Q. WATCHING THE CASTLE IN THE ABSENCE OF THE CHIEF. 
 
 “Tt was a custom derived from remote antiquity that when the chief went 
 from home his castle was watched every night by some of his adherents, who 
 took that duty by turns. 
 
 “This practice no doubt originated in necessity, when the danger of a 
 sudden attack by night was in some measure obviated. by such a precaution. 
 
 “But in later and more peaceable times it became a mere form, a com- 
 pliment paid to the dignity of the absent chieftain, of whose consequence all 
 the clan participated. One gentleman only came, bringing an attendant or 
 two with him as a necessary precaution. ‘The scene of the vigil was always 
 the great room of the castle, which, being large, empty of substantial beings, 
 and replenished with family pictures, was sufficiently dreary through a long 
 February night such as I am speaking of. ‘On such a night’ came a gentle- 
 man of no small note.to perform the wonted vigil. This was to be literally 
 such, for to sleep would be indecorous in the highest degree. He entered 
 before midnight this stately apartment, attended by his servant, a mere youth, 
 who had never-seen a large room or a large picture in his life, and of con- 
 sequence must have thought the shades of the brave and the beautiful, who 
 seemed, fixed in motionless gaze, to behold him from all sides, very awful. 
 
 “ His master, not feeling inclined to conversation, indulged a solitary musing 
 near the fire. The young man sat down in the recess of a window at a respectful 
 distance. ; 
 
 “When two persons watched together in this manner there was a kind of 
 implied compact that one should keep the other awake. There was a good 
 reason for this, for if one slept, the other was virtually left in the power of the 
 
 179 23—2 
 
Appendix. 
 
 spirits of darkness. The master, after watching till near morning, was oyer- 
 powered with sleep. The servant, full of wonder and speculation, was kept 
 awake by the novelty of the scene around him. He perceived, however, that 
 his master slumbered, and, feeling.a sudden chill, attempted to rise and 
 awaken him. He was suddenly arrested by astonishment, when the great 
 folding doors were instantly thrown open, and two footmen in the family livery 
 came in bearing lights. They were followed by some of the family who had 
 been dead for years, and whose, wan and ghastly visages ‘looked not like 
 inhabitants of the earth.’ Their dress and behaviour, however, exactly re- 
 sembled that of their fellow-mortals in the same condition of life. Pope tells 
 us of female sylphs or gnomes who, ‘though they play no more, o’erlook the 
 cards.’ . 
 
 “These phantoms went further. The card-tables were placed, and they 
 actually sat down to play. ‘They conversed, too, a great deal; but though 
 this intruder on their amusements saw their lips moving and their gestures 
 varying, he never heard the sound of their voices. 
 
 “His terror was much augmented by recognizing in one of the footmen a 
 kinsman of his own, who in his lifetime had served in the castle in that 
 capacity. ‘The dusky grey of the dawn now began to appear. The shadowy 
 troop rather hastily returned the way they came. In passing, however, one 
 turned towards the watcher and breathed upon him. It was a cold breath 
 that seemed to freeze the blood in his veins. ‘The cock crew and his master 
 awakened. ‘The poor visionary begged to be carried home, being unable to 
 move. His request was immediately complied with. He called his friends — 
 about him and narrated all that had happened to him, adding that the hand 
 of death was upon him, and nothing could save him. He died in three days 
 after of a fever and delirium. 
 
 “The lady from whom I had the recital is still alive, and remembers the 
 circumstances of the man’s death, her father’s attending his funeral, and coming 
 home full of the-story. 
 
 “Now, that this poor man in such a situation should dream awake is not at 
 all surprising. Dreams of this regular kind so often denote a foregone con- 
 clusion, that it may be matter of wonder how the materials of such a one could 
 be supplied to a youth, who was so entire a stranger to the form of life he saw 
 thus represented. : 
 
 “ But the curiosity and intelligence of these people is inconceivable. There 
 
 180 
 
Appendix. 
 was not a house in the strath but what was in some way connected with the 
 attendants of the great family, and all were anxious to know particulars of the 
 domestic life of their beloved chief, such as those attendants were qualified to 
 describe. ‘This youth no doubt had heard often of the evening card parties at 
 the castle, which he would in fancy associate with the family pictures, and with 
 some help from memory, and more from fear, furnish out the fatal vision.” 
 
 — Superstitions of the Highlanders, Vol. Ts Tee; 
 
 Note R. Dr. Maccuttocu’s ACCOUNT OF A HIGHLAND INN STABLE. 
 
 “ But if, after describing Mrs. Maclarty’s kitchen, and after breakfasting, 
 dining, and sleeping at her hotel, I were not to lead you into the stable of a 
 Highland inn of this class, I should be unfair to the fair sex ; as it must be sup- 
 posed that this department, however indirectly, is under the management of 
 Mrs. Maclarty, not of the lady. If you should succeed in reaching it, it must 
 be through a pool of mud and water, and other indescribables ; and it will be 
 fortunate if there are some stepping-stones for yourself, more fortunate if your 
 horse does not slip on them, and souse you with the perfumes of this moat. 
 If he is a tall horse, not understanding architecture, he will knock his head 
 against the doorway ; and if you have the misfortune to carry a portmanteau, 
 as may happen to a single gentleman, he will stick in the passage and pull off 
 the straps, which there is no saddler to mend. When you get in you find two 
 or three holes in.the wall for the sake of ventilation, so that, on Mr. Coleman’s 
 system, he cannot catch cold. If you do not keep an eye on him, you will 
 shortly find him swilling water out of a bucket, or in the nearest river; and 
 the next morning he is foundered, and so are you. When he does want water, 
 as there is seldom a pail, he is dragged out by the mane to this river, and if 
 he breaks his knees among the rocks and stones, he is used to it, or else his 
 fraternity is, which is the same thing. It is reckoned polite here to suffer the 
 mud to dry on his legs, and to pick or examine his feet would be troublesome. 
 If the thatch is water-tight, so much the better. A hay-loft is a luxury; and 
 as there is no stable lantern, the hay hangs down among the loose boards upon 
 the candle; but being damp, there is no danger. The boy goes up to stir it 
 about, and you are covered with dust and chaff; so is the horse; and as he is 
 
 18L 
 
Appendix. 
 
 not wiped down, and there is no horse-cloth, that helps to keep him warm. 
 Since the Scottish Reformers pulled down the stalls in their churches, they 
 have probably thought them’ unnecessary in their stables; but a few saddles, 
 and pikes, and poles, and wheelbarrows, and _horse-collars, with a stray pig, a 
 hen and chickens, and a calf, serve at the same time to wedge him up, and to 
 prevent him from being dull. It is not likely that you will object to the 
 company of half a dozen sharp-horned stirks and stots; but what then? If 
 you think it prudent to tie him up, under these circumstances, or because the 
 house is filled with Highland ponies, jostling, and squabbling, and kicking in 
 every direction, there is no halter. You may use your bridle, which he will 
 break ; or if you insist on a halter, a rope will be found before to-morrow, and 
 made fast round his throat with a slip-knot, so that it is not unlikely you will 
 find him hanged the next morning. If there is a manger, probably the corn 
 is put into it; but it is either full of holes, so that the oats run through, or so 
 high that he cannot reach them. If there is a rack, the hay is thrown on the 
 ground, which is a great saving, because he will spoil half of it, and that will 
 serve for his bed. 
 
 “That, with his own produce, is the only bed he will get; but being added 
 to the former beds of former horses, it serves to keep him moist and cool. You 
 begin by giving him hay, but it is made of musty rushes and other matters: he 
 refuses to eat it, expecting corn; but if you begin with corn, as that is musty 
 too, he waits for the hay. It is probable that he will determine which is worst 
 when he is hungry enough. A Highlander ostler of this family is a great enemy 
 to delicacy ; therefore begin this journey by bronzing your stirrups and _ bridle, 
 and it will save remonstrance. When you are about to depart in the morning, 
 you must not be in haste, because your horse is neither fed nor watered, nor is 
 likely to be until you do it yourself. If he is a grey horse, you will find that 
 he has turned green; and as he will turn greener every day, since a currycomb 
 was never heard of in Mrs. Maclarty’s stables, the prudent thing is to paint him 
 green before you begin. A wisp of straw might have been substituted, you will 
 think, for the currycomb ; but the knave trusts that the next shower will do as 
 well. The mane, of course, is matted by the fairies—for how else could it 
 become so inextricable, that the fingers of the bare-headed kilted callan will 
 not make it lie in any direction—even in the wrong one? If he possesses the 
 luxury of a comb of either kind, it is probable he will use the one to straighten 
 his own locks, and the other to claw his own hide. When your saddle and 
 
 182 
 
Appendix. 
 
 bridle are to be put on, you will find that they have been lying in the dirt all 
 night, as there is no peg to hang them on; and in a well-regulated stable it is 
 held matter of policy to keep some wild colt or filly loose, who walks about in 
 the night, trying to purloin the hay and corn of his neighbours, having none of 
 his own, so that, if you sleep near it, you are regaled with quarrelling, and 
 kicking, and stamping all night. But it is time to lock the stable door—yet 
 not till you have paid the breechless lout as much for doing nothing as, in 
 London, would have polished horse, bit, and stirrups to the lustre of the 
 planet Venus, and twice as much for musty husks and mouldy rushes as would 
 have procured all the luxuries of Mark Lane and the Haymarket.” 
 
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