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diff --git a/76787-h/76787-h.htm b/76787-h/76787-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..29d7a6a --- /dev/null +++ b/76787-h/76787-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9551 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Summer in Skye, Volume II, +by Alexander Smith +</title> + +<style> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +.sidenote { left: 0%; + right: 0%; + font-size: 90%; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0%; + width: 15%; + float: left; + clear: left; + padding-left: 1%; + padding-right: 1%; + padding-top: 1%; + padding-bottom: 1%; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + border: solid; + border-width: 1px; + margin-right: 1%; + background: #FAFAD2; + font-variant: normal; } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76787 ***</div> + +<h1> +<br><br> + A SUMMER IN SKYE<br> +</h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> + BY ALEXANDER SMITH<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + AUTHOR OF "A LIFE DRAMA," ETC.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + VOLUME II.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + ALEXANDER STRAHAN, PUBLISHER<br> + 148 STRAND, LONDON<br> + 1865<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> + CONTENTS OF VOL. II.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#chap01">THE LANDLORD'S WALK</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#chap02">ORBOST AND DUNVEGAN</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#chap03">DUNTULM</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#chap04">JOHN PENRUDDOCK</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#chap05">A SMOKING PARLIAMENT</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#chap06">THE EMIGRANTS</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#chap07">HOMEWARDS</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#chap08">GLASGOW</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#chap09">HOME</a> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +A SUMMER IN SKYE. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h3> +<i>THE LANDLORD'S WALK.</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Walking into the interior of Skye is like +walking into antiquity; the present is behind +you, your face is turned toward Ossian. In +the quiet silent wilderness you think of London, +Liverpool, Edinburgh, or whatever great city it may +be given you to live and work in, as of something +of which you were cognisant in a former existence. +Not only do you breathe the air of antiquity; but +everything about you is a veritable antique. The +hut by the road-side, thatched with turfs, smoke +issuing from the roof, is a specimen of one of the +oldest styles of architecture in the world. The +crooked spade with which the crofter turns over +the sour ground carries you away into fable. You +remove a pile of stones on the moor, and you come +to a flagged chamber in which there is a handful +of human bones—whose, no one can tell. Duntulm +and Dunsciach moulder on their crags, but +the song the passing milkmaid sings is older than +they. You come upon old swords that were once +bright and athirst for blood; old brooches that +once clasped plaids; old churchyards with carvings +of unknown knights on the tombs; and old men +who seem to have inherited the years of the eagle +or the crow. These human antiques are, in their +way, more interesting than any other: they are +the most precious objects of <i>virtu</i> of which the +island can boast. And at times, if you can keep +ear and eye open, you stumble on forms of life, +relations of master and servant, which are as old +as the castle on the crag or the cairn of the chief +on the moor. Cash payment is not the "sole +nexus between man and man." In these remote +regions your servants' affection for you is +hereditary as their family name or their family +ornaments; your foster-brother would die willingly for +you; and if your nurse had the writing of your +epitaph, you would be the bravest, strongest, +handsomest man that ever walked in shoe leather +or out of it. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Mr M'Ian's house +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The house of my friend Mr M'Ian is set down +on the shore of one of the great Lochs that intersect +the island; and as it was built in smuggling +times, its windows look straight down the Loch +towards the open sea. Consequently at night, +when lighted up, it served all the purposes of a +lighthouse: and the candle in the porch window, I +am told, has often been anxiously watched by the +rough crew engaged in running a cargo of claret +or brandy from Bordeaux. Right opposite, on the +other side of the Loch, is the great rugged fringe of +the Cuchullin hills; and lying on the dry summer +grass you can see it, under the influence of light +and shade, change almost as the expression of +a human face changes. Behind the house the +ground is rough and broken, every hollow filled, +every knoll plumaged with birches, and between +the leafy islands, during the day, rabbits scud +continually, and in the evening they sit in the +glades and wash their innocent faces. A mile or +two back from the house a glen opens into soft +green meadows, through which a stream flows; and +on these meadows Mr M'Ian, when the weather +permits, cuts and secures his hay. The stream is +quiet enough usually, but after a heavy day's rain, +or when a waterspout has burst up among the +hills, it comes down with a vengeance, carrying +everything before it. On such occasions its roar +may be heard a mile away. +<span class="sidenote"> +View from the bridge. +</span> +About a pistol-shot +from the house the river is crossed by a plank +bridge, and in fine weather it is a great pleasure +to sit down there and look about one. The stream +flows sluggishly over rocks, in the deep places of +a purple or port-wine colour, and lo! behind you, +through the arch, slips a sunbeam, and just beneath +the eye there gleams a sudden chasm of brilliant +amber. The sea is at ebb, and the shore is covered +with stones and dark masses of sea-weed; and the +rocks a hundred yards off—in their hollows they +hold pools of clear sea-water in which you can find +curious and delicately-coloured ocean blooms—are +covered with orange lichens, which contrast +charmingly with the masses of tawny dulse and the +stone-littered shore on the one side, and the +keen blue of the sea on the other. Beyond the +blue of the sea the great hills rise, with a radiant +vapour flowing over their crests. Immediately +to the left a spur of high ground runs out to +the sea edge,—the flat top smooth and green as a +billiard table, the sheep feeding on it white as +billiard balls,—and at the foot of this spur of rock +a number of huts are collected. They are half +lost in an azure veil of smoke, you smell the +peculiar odour of peat reek, you see the nets lying +out on the grass to dry, you hear the voices of +children. Immediately above, and behind the huts +and the spur of high ground, the hill falls back, +the whole breast of it shaggy with birch-wood; +and just at the top you see a clearing and a streak +of white stony road, leading into some other +region as solitary and beautiful as the one in +which you at present are. And while you sit on +the bridge in a state of half-sleepy contentment—a +bee nuzzling in a bell-shaped flower within +reach of your stick, the sea-gulls dancing silent +quadrilles overhead, the white lightning flash of +a rabbit from copse to copse twenty yards off—you +hear a sharp whistle, then a shout, and looking +round there is M'Ian himself standing on a +height, his figure clear against the sky: and +immediately the men tinkering the boat on the shore +drop work and stand and stare, and out of the +smoke that wraps the cottages rushes bonnetless, +Lachlan Dhu, or Donald Roy, scattering a brood +of poultry in his haste, and marvelling much what +has moved his master to such unwonted exertion. +</p> + +<p> +My friend's white house is a solitary one, no +other dwelling of the same kind being within +eight miles of it. In winter, wind and rain beat it +with a special spite; and the thunder of the sea +creeps into your sleeping ears, and your dreams +are of breakers and reefs, and ships going to +pieces, and the cries of drowning men. In +summer, it basks as contentedly on its green knoll; +green grass, with the daisy wagging its head in +the soft wind, runs up to the very door of the +porch. But although solitary enough—so solitary; +that if you are asked to dine with your nearest +neighbour you must mount and ride—there are +many more huts about than those we have seen +nestling on the shore beneath the smooth green +plateau on which sheep are feeding. If you walk +along to the west,—and a rough path it is, for your +course is over broken boulders,—you come on a +little bay with an eagle's nest of a castle perched +on a cliff, and there you will find a school-house +and a half-a-dozen huts, the blue smoke steaming +out of the crannies in the walls and roofs. Dark +pyramids of peat are standing about, sheep and +cows are feeding on the bits of pasture, gulls are +weaving their eternal dances above, and during +the day the school-room is murmuring like a +beehive—only a much less pleasant task than the +making of honey is going on within. +<span class="sidenote"> +The pensioner. +</span> +Behind the +house to the east, hidden by the broken ground +and the masses of birch-wood, is another collection +of huts; and in one of these lives the most +interesting man in the place. He is an old pensioner, +who has seen service in different quarters of the +world; and frequently have I carried him a string +of pigtail, and shared his glass of usquebaugh, and +heard him, as he sat on a stone in the sunshine, +tell tales of barrack life in Jamaica; of woody +wildernesses filled with gorgeous undergrowth, of +parasites that climbed like fluttering tongues of +fire, and of the noisy towns of monkeys and parrots +in the upper branches. I have heard him also +severely critical on the different varieties of rum. +Of every fiery compound he had a catholic +appreciation, but rum was his special favourite—being to +him what a Greek text was to Person, or an old +master to Sir George Beaumont. So that you see, +although Mr M'Ian's house was in a sense solitary, +yet it was not altogether bereaved of the sight and +sense of human habitations. On the farm there +were existing perhaps, women and children +included, some sixty souls; and to these the +relation of the master was peculiar, and perhaps +without a parallel in the island. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Rude courts of justice. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +When, nearly half-a-century ago, Mr M'Ian left +the army and became tacksman, he found cotters +on his farm, and thought their presence as much +a matter of course as that limpets should be found +upon his rocks. They had their huts, for which +they paid no rent; they had their patches of corn +and potato ground, for which they paid no rent. +There they had always been, and there, so far as +Mr M'Ian was concerned, they would remain. He +had his own code of generous old-fashioned ethics, +to which he steadily adhered; and the man who +was hard on the poor, who would dream of driving +them from the places in which they were born, +seemed to him to break the entire round of the +Commandments. Consequently the huts still smoked +on the hem of the shore and among the clumps +of birch-wood. The children who played on the +green when he first became tacksman grew up in +process of time, and married; and on these +occasions he not only sent them something on which +to make merry withal, but he gave them—what +they valued more—his personal presence; and he +made it a point of honour, when the ceremony was +over, to dance the first reel with the bride. When +old men or children were sick, cordials and +medicines were sent from the house; when old man or +child died, Mr M'Ian never failed to attend the +funeral. He was a Justice of the Peace; and when +disputes arose amongst his own cotters, or amongst +the cotters of others—when, for instance, Katy +M'Lure accused Effie M'Kean of stealing potatoes; +when Red Donald raged against Black Peter on +some matter relating to the sale of a dozen lambs; +when Mary, in her anger at the loss of her sweetheart, +accused Betty (to whom said sweetheart had +transferred his allegiance) of the most flagrant +breaches of morality—the contending parties were +sure to come before my friend; and many a rude +court of justice I have seen him hold at the door +of his porch. Arguments were heard <i>pro</i> and <i>con</i>, +witnesses were examined, evidence was duly sifted +and weighed, judgment was made, and the case +dismissed; and I believe these decisions gave in the +long run as much satisfaction as those delivered in +Westminster or the Edinburgh Parliament-House. +Occasionally, too, a single girl or shepherd, with +whose character liberties were being taken, would +be found standing at the porch-door anxious to +make oath that they were innocent of the guilt or +the impropriety laid to their charge. Mr M'Ian +would come out and hear the story, make the party +assert his or her innocence on oath, and deliver a +written certificate to the effect that in his presence, +on such and such a day, so and so had sworn that +certain charges were unfounded, false, and +malicious. Armed with this certificate, the aspersed +girl or shepherd would depart in triumph. He or +she had passed through the ordeal by oath, and +nothing could touch them farther. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Mr M'Ian's cotters. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Mr M'Ian paid rent for the entire farm; but to +him the cotters paid no rent, either for their huts +or for their patches of corn and potato ground. +But the cotters were by no means merely +pensioners—taking, and giving nothing in return. +The most active of the girls were maids of various +degree in Mr M'Ian's house; the cleverest and +strongest of the lads acted as shepherds, &c.; and +these of course received wages. The grown men +amongst the cotters were generally at work in the +south, or engaged in fishing expeditions, during +summer; so that the permanent residents on the +farm were chiefly composed of old men, women, +and children. When required, Mr M'Ian demands +the services of these people just as he would the +services of his household servants, and they comply +quite as readily. If the crows are to be kept out +of the corn, or the cows out of the turnip-field, an +urchin is remorselessly reft away from his games +and companions. If a boat is out of repair, old +Dugald is deputed to the job, and when his task +is completed, he is rewarded with ten minutes' +chat and a glass of spirits up at the house. When +fine weather comes, every man, woman, and child +is ordered to the hay-field, and Mr M'Ian potters +amongst them the whole day, and takes care that +no one shirks his duty. When his corn or barley +is ripe the cotters cut it, and when the harvest +operations are completed, he gives the entire cotter +population a dance and harvest-home. But +between Mr M'Ian and his cotters no money passes; +by a tacit understanding he is to give them house, +corn-ground, potato-ground, and they are to +remunerate him with labour. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Mr M'Ian's old-fashioned speech. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Mr M'Ian, it will be seen, is a conservative, and +hates change; and the social system by which he +is surrounded wears an ancient and patriarchal +aspect to a modern eye. It is a remnant of the +system of clanship. The relation of cotter and +tacksman, which I have described, is a bit of +antiquity quite as interesting as the old castle on the +crag—nay, more interesting, because we value the +old castle mainly in virtue of its representing an +ancient form of life, and here is yet lingering a +fragment of the ancient form of life itself. You +dig up an ancient tool or weapon in a moor, and +place it carefully in a museum: here, as it were, +is the ancient tool or weapon in actual use. No +doubt Mr M'Ian's system has grave defects: it +perpetuates comparative wretchedness on the part of +the cotters, it paralyses personal exertion, it begets +an ignoble contentment; but on the other hand it +sweetens sordid conditions, so far as they can be +sweetened, by kindliness and good services. If Mr +M'Ian's system is bad, he makes the best of it, and +draws as much comfort and satisfaction out of it, +both for himself and for others, as is perhaps possible. +Mr M'Ian's speech was as old-fashioned as he +was himself; ancient matters turned up on his +tongue just as ancient matters turned up on his +farm. You found an old grave or an old implement +on the one, you found an old proverb or an +old scrap of a Gaelic poem on the other. After +staying with him some ten days, I intimated +my intention of paying a visit to my friend the +Landlord—with whom Fellowes was then staying—who +lived some forty miles off in the north-western +portion of the island. The old gentleman +was opposed to rapid decisions and movements, +and asked me to remain with him yet another +week. When he found I was resolute he glanced +at the weather-gleam, and the troops of mists +gathering on Cuchullin, muttering as he did so, +"'Make ready my galley,' said the king, 'I shall +sail for Norway on Wednesday.' 'Will you,' said +the wind, who, flying about, had overheard what +was said, 'you had better ask my leave first.'" +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Landlord. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Between the Landlord and M'Ian there were +many likenesses and divergences. Both were +Skyemen by birth, both had the strongest love for +their native island, both had the management of +human beings, both had shrewd heads, and hearts +of the kindest texture. But at this point the +likenesses ended, and the divergences began. Mr +M'Ian had never been out of the three kingdoms. +The Landlord had spent the best part of his life in +India, was more familiar with huts of ryots, topes +of palms, tanks in which the indigo plant was +steeping, than with the houses of Skye cotters and +the processes of sheep-farming. He knew the +streets of Benares or Delhi better than he knew +the streets of London; and, when he first came +home, Hindostanee would occasionally jostle Gaelic +on his tongue. The Landlord too, was rich, would +have been considered a rich man even in the +southern cities; he was owner of many a mile of +moorland, and the tides of more than one far-winding +Loch rose and rippled on shores that called +him master. In my friend the Landlord there was +a sort of contrariety, a sort of mixture or blending +of opposite elements which was not without its +fascination. He was in some respects a resident +in two worlds. He liked motion; he had a +magnificent scorn of distance: to him the world seemed +comparatively small; and he would start from Skye +to India with as much composure as other men +would take the night train to London. He paid +taxes in India and he paid taxes in Skye. His +name was as powerful in the markets of Calcutta +as it was at the Muir of Ord. He read the +<i>Hurkaru</i> and the <i>Inverness Courier</i>. He had known +the graceful salaam of the East, as he now knew +the touched bonnets of his shepherds. And in +living with him, in talking with him, one was now +reminded of the green western island on which +sheep fed, anon of tropic heats, of pearl and gold, +of mosque and pinnacle glittering above belts +of palm-trees. In his company you were in +imagination travelling backwards and forwards. You +made the overland route twenty times a day. +Now you heard the bagpipe, now the monotonous +beat of the tom-tom and the keen clash of silver +cymbals. You were continually passing backwards +and forwards, as I have said. You were in the +West with your half-glass of bitters in the morning, +you were in the East with the curry at dinner. +Both Mr M'Ian and the Landlord had the +management of human beings, but their methods +of management were totally different. Mr M'Ian +accepted matters as he found them, and originating +nothing, changing nothing, contrived to make life +for himself and others as pleasant as possible. +The Landlord, when he entered on the direction of +his property, exploded every ancient form of usage, +actually <i>ruled</i> his tenants; would permit no factor, +middle-man, or go-between; met them face to face, +and had it out with them. The consequence was +that the poor people were at times sorely +bewildered. They received their orders and carried +them out, with but little sense of the ultimate +purpose of the Landlord—just as the sailor, ignorant of +the principles of navigation, pulls ropes and reefs +sails and does not discover that he gains much +thereby, the same sea-crescent being around him +day by day, but in due time a cloud rises on the +horizon, and he is in port at last. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The waterspout. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +As M'Ian had predicted, I could only move +from his house if the weather granted permission; +and this permission the weather did not seem +disposed to grant. For several days it rained as I +had never seen it rain before; a waterspout, too, +had burst up among the hills, and the stream came +down in mighty flood. There was great hubbub +at the house. Mr M'Ian's hay, which was built in +large stacks in the valley meadows, was in danger, +and the fiery cross was sent through the cotters. +Up to the hay-fields every available man was +despatched with carts and horses, to remove the stacks +to some spot where the waters could not reach +them; while at the bridge nearer the house women +and boys were stationed with long poles, and what +rudely-extemporised implements Celtic ingenuity +could suggest, to intercept and fish out piles and +trusses which the thievish stream was carrying away +with it seaward. These piles and trusses would at +least serve for the bedding of cattle. For three +days the rainy tempest continued; at last, on the +fourth, mist and rain rolled up like a vast curtain +in heaven, and then again were visible the clumps +of birch-wood, and the bright sea and the smoking +hills, and far away on the ocean floor Rum and +Canna, without a speck of cloud on them, sleeping +in the coloured calmness of early afternoon. This +uprising of the elemental curtain was, so far as the +suddenness of the effect was concerned, like the +uprising of the curtain of the pantomime on the +transformation scene—all at once a dingy, sodden +world had become a brilliant one, and all the +newly-revealed colour and brilliancy promised to +be permanent. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The farm of Knock. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Of this happy change in the weather I of course +took immediate advantage. About five o'clock in +the afternoon my dog-cart was brought to the door; +and after a parting cup with Mr M'Ian—who pours a +libation both to his arriving and his departing +guest—I drove away on my journey to remote Portree, +and to the unimagined country that lay beyond +Portree, but which I knew held Dunvegan, Duntulm, +Macleod's Tables, and Quirang. I drove up the +long glen with a pleasant exhilaration of spirit. I +felt grateful to the sun, for he had released me from +rainy captivity. The drive, too, was pretty; the +stream came rolling down in foam, the smell of the +wet birch-trees was in the brilliant air, every +mountain-top was strangely and yet softly distinct; and +looking back, there were the blue Cuchullins +looking after me, as if bidding me farewell! At +last I reached the top of the glen, and emerged +on a high plateau of moorland, in which were dark +inky tarns with big white water-lilies on them; and +skirting across the plateau I dipped down on the +parliamentary road, which, like a broad white belt, +surrounds Skye. Better road to drive on you will +not find in the neighbourhood of London itself! +and just as I was descending, I could not help +pulling up. The whole scene was of the extremest +beauty—exquisitely calm, exquisitely coloured. +On my left was a little lake with a white margin +of water-lilies, a rocky eminence throwing a shadow +half-way across it. Down below, on the sea-shore, +was the farm of Knock, with white outhouses and +pleasant patches of cultivation, the school-house, +and the church, while on a low spit of land the +old castle of the Macdonalds was mouldering. Still +lower down and straight away stretched the sleek +blue Sound of Sleat, with not a sail or streak of +steamer smoke to break its vast expanse, and with +a whole congregation of clouds piled up on the +horizon, soon to wear their evening colours. I +let the sight slowly creep into my study of +imagination, so that I might be able to reproduce it +at pleasure; that done, I drove down to Isle +Oronsay by pleasant sloping stages of descent, with +green hills on right and left, and along the +roadside, like a guard of honour, the purple stalks +of the foxglove. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Mr Fraser's trouts. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The evening sky was growing red above me +when I drove into Isle Oronsay, which consists of +perhaps fifteen houses in all. It sits on the margin +of a pretty bay, in which the cry of the fisher is +continually heard, and into which the <i>Clansman</i> going +to or coming from the south steams twice or thrice +in the week. At a little distance is a lighthouse +with a revolving light.—an idle building during the +day, but when night comes, awakening to full +activity,—sending now a ray to Ardnamurchan, now +piercing with a fiery arrow the darkness of Glenelg. +In Isle Oronsay is a merchant's shop, in which +every conceivable article may be obtained. At +Isle Oronsay the post-runner drops a bag, as he +hies on to Armadale Castle. At Isle Oronsay I +supped with my friend Mr Fraser. From him +I learned that the little village had been, like +M'Ian's house, fiercely scourged by rains. On the +supper-table was a dish of trouts. "Where do you +suppose I procured these?" he asked. "In one of +your burns, I suppose." "No such thing; I found +them in my potato-field." "In your potato-field! +How came that about?" "Why, you see the +stream, swollen by three days' rain, broke over +a potato-field of mine on the hill-side and carried +the potatoes away, and left these plashing in pool +and runnel. The Skye streams have a slight +touch of honesty in them!" I smiled at the +conceit, and expounded to my host the law of +compensation which pervades the universe, of which I +maintained the trouts on the table were a shining +example. Mr Fraser assented; but held that +Nature was a poor valuator—that her knowledge of +the doctrine of equivalents was slightly defective—that +the trouts were well enough, but no reimbursement +for the potatoes that were gone. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning I resumed my journey. The road, +so long as it skirted the sea-shore, was pretty +enough; but the sea-shore it soon left, and entered +a waste of brown monotonous moorland. The +country round about abounds in grouse, and was +the favourite shooting-ground of the late Lord +Macdonald. By the road-side his lordship had +erected a stable and covered the roof with tin; and +so at a distance it flashed as if the Koh-i-noor had +been dropped by accident in that dismal region. +As I went along, the hills above Broadford began +to rise; then I drove down the slope, on which the +market was held—the tents all struck, but the stakes +yet remaining in the ground—and after passing the +six houses, the lime-kiln, the church, and the two +merchants' shops, I pulled up at the inn door, and +sent the horse round to the stable to feed and to +rest an hour. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Island of Scalpa. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +After leaving Broadford the traveller drives +along the margin of the ribbon of salt water which +flows between Skye and the Island of Scalpa. +Up this narrow sound the steamer never passes, +and it is only navigated by the lighter kinds of +sailing craft. Scalpa is a hilly island of some +three or four miles in length, by one and a half in +breadth, is gray-green in colour, and as treeless as +the palm of your hand. It has been the birthplace +of many soldiers. After passing Scalpa the +road ascends; and you notice as you drive along +that during the last hour or so the frequent streams +have changed colour. In the southern portion of +the island they come down as if the hills ran +sherry—here they are pale as shallow sea-water. This +difference of hue arises of course from a difference +of bed. About Broadford they come down through +the mossy moorland, here they run over marble. +Of marble the island is full; and it is not impossible +that the sculptors of the twentieth century will +patronise the quarries of Strath and Kyle rather +than the quarries of Carrara. But wealth is needed +to lay bare these mineral treasures. The fine +qualities of Skye marble will never be obtained +until they are laid open by a golden pickaxe. +</p> + +<p> +Once you have passed Scalpa you approach Lord +Macdonald's deer forest. You have turned the flank +of the Cuchullins now, and are taking them in rear, +and you skirt their bases very closely too. The road +is full of wild ascents and descents, and on your +left, for a couple of miles or so, you are in continual +presence of bouldered hill-side sloping away +upward to some invisible peak, overhanging wall of +wet black precipice, far-off serrated ridge that cuts +the sky like a saw. Occasionally these mountain +forms open up and fall back, and you see the +sterilest valleys running no man knows whither. +Altogether the hills here have a strange weird look. +Each is as closely seamed with lines as the face of +a man of a hundred, and these myriad reticulations +are picked out with a pallid gray-green, as +if through some mineral corrosion. Passing along +you are strangely impressed with the idea that some +vast chemical experiment has been going on for +some thousands of years; that the region is nature's +laboratory, and that down these wrinkled hill-fronts +she had spilt her acids and undreamed-of +combinations. You never think of verdure in +connexion with that net-work of gray-green, but +only of rust, or of some metallic discoloration. +You cannot help fancying that if a sheep fed on +one of those hill-sides it would to a certainty be +poisoned. Altogether the sight is very grand, +very impressive, and very uncomfortable, and it is +with the liveliest satisfaction that, tearing down +one of the long descents, you turn your back on +the mountain monsters, and behold in front the +green Island of Raasay, with its imposing modern +mansion, basking in sunshine. It is like passing +from the world of the gnomes to the world of men. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Lord Macdonald's forest. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +I have driven across Lord Macdonald's deer +forest in sunshine and in rain, and am constrained +to confess that, under the latter atmospherical +condition, the scenery is the more imposing. Some +months ago I drove in the mail-gig from Sligachan +to Broadford. There was a high wind, the sun was +bright, and consequently a great carry and flight +of sunny vapours. All at once, too, every half-hour +or so, the turbulent brightness of wind and cloud +was extinguished by fierce squalls of rain. You +could see the coming rain-storm blown out on the +wind toward you like a sheet of muslin cloth. On +it came racing in its strength and darkness, the +long straight watery lines pelting on road and rock, +churning in marsh and pool. Over the unhappy +mail-gig it rushed, bidding defiance to plaid or +waterproof cape, and wetting every one to the +skin. The mail jogged on as best it could through +the gloom and the fury, and then the sunshine +came again making to glisten, almost too brightly +for the eye, every rain-pool on the road. In +the sunny intervals there was a great race and +hurry of towered vapour, as I said; and when a shining +mass smote one of the hill-sides, or shrouded for +a while one of the more distant serrated crests, the +concussion was so palpable to the eye that the ear +felt defrauded, and silence seemed unnatural. And +when the vast mass passed onward to impinge on +some other mountain barrier, it was singular to +notice by what slow degrees, with what evident +reluctance the laggard skirts combed off. +<span class="sidenote"> +The meek-faced man of fifty. +</span> +All these +effects of rain and windy vapour I remember +vividly, and I suppose that the vividness was partly +due to the lamentable condition of a fellow-traveller. +He was a meek-faced man of fifty. He was +dressed in sables, his swallow-tailed coat was +thread-bare, and withal seemed made for a smaller +man. There was an uncomfortable space between +the wrists of his coat and his black-thread gloves. +He wore a hat, and against the elements had +neither the protection of plaid nor umbrella. No +one knew him, to no one did he explain his +business. To my own notion he was bound for a +funeral at some place beyond Portree. He was +not a clergyman—he might have been a +schoolmaster who had become green-moulded in some +out-of-the-way locality. Of course one or two of +the rainy squalls settled the meek-faced man in the +thread-bare sables. Emerging from one of these +he resembled a draggled rook, and the rain was +pouring from the brim of his pulpy hat as it might +from the eaves of a cottage. A passenger handed +him his spirit-flask, the meek-faced man took a +hearty pull, and returning it, said plaintively, "I'm +but poorly clad, sir, for this God-confounded +climate." I think often of the utterance of the poor +fellow: it was the only thing he said all the way; +and when I think of it, I see again the rain blown +out towards me on the wind like a waving sheet of +muslin cloth, and the rush, the concussion, the +upbreak, and the slow reluctant trailing off from the +hill-side of the sunny cloud. The poor man's +plaintive tone is the anchor which holds these things in +my memory. +</p> + +<p> +The forest is of course treeless. Nor are deer +seen there frequently. Although I have crossed it +frequently, only once did I get a sight of antlers. +Carefully I crept up, sheltering myself behind a +rocky haunch of the hill to where the herd were +lying, and then rushed out upon them with a +halloo. In an instant they were on their feet, +and away went the beautiful creatures, doe and +fawn, a stag with branchy head leading. They +dashed across a torrent, crowned an eminence one +by one and disappeared. Such a sight is witnessed +but seldom; and the traveller passing through the +brown desolation sees usually no sign of life. In +Lord Macdonald's deer forest neither trees nor deer +are visible. +</p> + +<p> +When once you get quit of the forest you +come on a shooting-box, perched on the sea-shore; +then you pass the little village of Sconser; and, +turning the sharp flank of a hill, drive along Loch +Sligachan to Sligachan Inn, about a couple of miles +distant. This inn is a famous halting-place for +tourists. There are good fishing streams about, +I am given to understand, and through Glen +Sligachan you can find your way to Camasunary, +and take the boat from thence to Loch Coruisk, as +we did. It was down this glen that the messenger +was to have brought the tobacco to our peculiar +friend. If you go you may perhaps find his +skeleton scientifically articulated by the carrion +crow and the raven. From the inn door the +ridges of the Cuchullins are seen wildly invading +the sky, and in closer proximity there are other +hills which cannot be called beautiful. Monstrous, +abnormal, chaotic, they resemble the other +hills on the earth's surface, as Hindoo deities +resemble human beings. The mountain, whose +sharp flank you turned after you passed Sconser, +can be inspected leisurely now, and is to my mind +supremely ugly. In summer it is red as copper, +with great ragged patches of verdure upon it, which +look by all the world as if the coppery mass had +<i>rusted</i> green. On these green patches cattle feed +from March to October. You bait at Sligachan,—can +dine on trout which a couple of hours before +were darting hither and thither in the stream, if you +like,—and then drive leisurely along to Portree while +the setting sun is dressing the wilderness in gold +and rose. And all the way the Cuchullins follow +you; the wild irregular outline, which no familiarity +can stale, haunts you at Portree, as it does +in nearly every quarter of Skye. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Portree. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Portree folds two irregular ranges of white +houses, the one range rising steeply above the +other, around a noble bay, the entrance to which is +guarded by rocky precipices. At a little distance +the houses are white as shells, and as in summer +they are all set in the greenness of foliage the +effect is strikingly pretty; and if the sense of +prettiness departs to a considerable extent on a +closer acquaintance, there is yet enough left to +gratify you so long as you remain there, and to +make it a pleasant place to think about when you +are gone. The lower range of houses consists +mainly of warehouses and fish-stores; the upper, of +the main hotel, the two banks, the court-house, +and the shops. A pier runs out into the bay, and +here, when the state of tide permits, comes the +steamer, on its way to or from Stornoway and +unlades. Should the tide be low the steamer +lies to in the bay, and her cargo and passengers +come to shore by means of boats. She usually +arrives at night; and at low tide, the burning +of coloured lights at the mast-heads, the flitting +hither and thither of busy lanterns, the pier boats +coming and going with illumined wakes, and +ghostly fires on the oar-blades, the clatter of chains +and the shock of the crank hoisting the cargo out +of the hold, the general hubbub and storm of Gaelic +shouts and imprecations make the arrival at once +picturesque and impressive. In the bay the yacht +of the tourist is continually lying, and at the hotel +door his dog-cart is continually departing or arriving. +In the hotel parties arrange to visit Quirang +or the Storr, and on the evenings of market-days, +in the large public rooms, farmers and cattle-dealers +sit over tumblers of smoking punch and +discuss noisily the prices and the qualities of stock. +Besides the hotel and the pier, the banks, and the +court-house already mentioned, there are other +objects of interest in the little island town—three +churches, a post-office, a poor-house, and a cloth +manufactory. And it has more than meets the eye—one +of the Jameses landed here on a visitation of +the Isles, Prince Charles was here on his way to +Raasay, Dr Johnson and Boswell were here; and +somewhere on the green hill on which the pretty +church stands, a murderer is buried—the precise +spot of burial is unknown, and so the entire hill +gets the credit that of right belongs only to a +single yard of it. In Portree the tourist seldom +abides long; he passes through it as a fortnight +before he passed through Oban. It does not +seem to the visitor a specially remarkable place, +but everything is relative in this world. It is an +event for the Islesman at Dunvegan or the Point of +Sleat to go to Portree, just as it is an event for a +Yorkshireman to go to London. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Skeabost. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +When you drive out of Portree you are in Macleod's +country, and you discover that the character +of the scenery has changed. Looking back, the +Cuchullins are wild and pale on the horizon, but +everything around is brown, softly-swelling, and +monotonous. The hills are round and low, and +except when an occasional boulder crops out on +their sides like a wart, are smooth as a seal's +back. They are gray-green in colour, and +may be grazed to the top. Expressing once to +a shepherd my admiration of the Cuchullins, +the man replied, while he swept with his arm +the entire range, "There's no feeding there for +twenty wethers!" here, however, there is sufficient +feeding to compensate for any lack of beauty. +About three miles out of Portree you come +upon a solitary-looking school-house by the +wayside, and a few yards farther to a division of +the roads. A finger-post informs you that the road +to the right leads to Uig, that to the left to +Dunvegan. As I am at present bound for Dunvegan, +I skirr along to the left, and after an hour's drive +come in sight of blue Loch Snizort, with Skeabost +sitting whitely on its margin. Far inland +from the broad Minch, like one of those wavering +swords which mediæval painters place in the +hands of archangels, has Snizort come wandering; +and it is the curious mixture of brine and pasture-land, +of mariner life and shepherd life, which gives +its charm to this portion of the island. The +Lochs are narrow, and you almost fancy a +strong-lunged man could shout across. The sea-gull +skims above the feeding sheep, the shepherd can +watch the sail of the sloop, laden with meal, +creeping from point to point. In the spiritual +atmosphere of the country the superstitions of +ocean and moorland mingle like two odours. +Above all places which I have seen in Skye, +Skeabost has a lowland look. There are almost +no turf-huts to be seen in the neighbourhood; the +houses are built of stone and lime, and are tidily +white-washed. The hills are low and smooth; on +the lower slopes corn and wheat are grown; and +from a little distance the greenness of cultivation +looks like a palpable smile—a strange contrast +to the monotonous district through which, +for an hour or so, you have driven. As you pass +the inn, and drive across the bridge, you notice +that there is an island in the stony stream, and +that this island is covered with ruins. The Skyeman +likes to bury his dead in islands, and this one +in the stream at Skeabost is a crowded cemetery. +I forded the stream, and wandered for an hour +amongst the tombs and broken stones. +<span class="sidenote"> +The Island of Graves. +</span> +There are +traces of an ancient chapel on the island, but +tradition does not even make a guess at its builder's +name or the date of its erection. There are old slabs, +lying sideways, with the figures of recumbent men +with swords in their hands, and inscriptions—indecipherable +now—carved on them. There is the grave +of a Skye clergyman who, if his epitaph is to be +trusted, was a burning and a shining light in his +day—a gospel candle irradiating the Hebridean +darkness. I never saw a churchyard so mounded, and so +evidently over-crowded. Here laird, tacksman, and +cotter elbow each other in death. Here no one will +make way for a new-comer, or give the wall to +his neighbour. And standing in the little ruined +island of silence and the dead, with the river +perfectly audible on either side, one could not help +thinking what a picturesque sight a Highland funeral +would be, creeping across the moors with wailing +pipe-music, fording the river, and his bearers making +room for the dead man amongst the older dead as +best they could. And this sight, I am told, may +be seen any week in the year. To this island all +the funerals of the country-side converge. Standing +there, too, one could not help thinking that +this space of silence, girt by river noises, would be +an <i>eerie</i> place by moonlight. The broken chapel, +the carved slabs lying sideways, as if the dead man +beneath had grown restless and turned himself, and +the head-stones jutting out of the mounded soil at +every variety of angle, would appal in the ink of +shadow and the silver of moonbeam. In such +circumstances one would hear something more in +the stream as it ran past than the mere breaking +of water on stones. +</p> + +<p> +After passing the river and the island of graves +you drive down between hedges to Skeabost church, +school, post-office, and manse, and thereafter you +climb the steep hill towards Bernesdale and its +colony of turf-huts; and when you reach the top you +have a noble view of the flat blue Minch, and the +Skye headlands, each precipitous, abrupt, and +reminding you somehow of a horse which has been +suddenly reined back to its haunches. The flowing +lines of those headlands suggest an onward motion, +and then, all at once, they shrink back upon +themselves, as if they feared the roar of breakers and the +smell of the brine. But the grand vision is not of +long duration, for the road descends rapidly towards +Taynlone Inn. In my descent I beheld two +bare-footed and bare-headed girls yoked to a +harrow, and dragging it up and down a small plot +of delved ground. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +A Highland hut. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Sitting in the inn I began to remember me how +frequently I had heard in the south of the destitution +of the Skye people and the discomfort of the +Skye hut. During my wanderings I had the opportunity +of visiting several of these dwellings, and +seeing how matters were transacted within. Frankly +speaking, the Highland hut is not a model edifice. It +is open to wind, and almost always pervious to rain. +An old bottomless herring-firkin stuck in the roof +usually serves for chimney, but the blue peat-reek +disdains that aperture, and steams wilfully through +the door and the crannies in the walls and roof. +The interior is seldom well-lighted—what light +there is proceeding rather from the orange glow of +the peat-fire, on which a large pot is simmering, +than from the narrow pane with its great bottle-green +bull's-eye. The rafters which support the +roof are black and glossy with soot, as you can +notice by sudden flashes of firelight. The sleeping +accommodation is limited, and the beds are composed +of heather or ferns. The floor is the beaten +earth, the furniture is scanty; there is hardly ever +a chair—stools and stones, worn smooth by the +usage of several generations, have to do instead. +One portion of the hut is not unfrequently a byre, +and the breath of the cow is mixed with the odour +of peat-reek, and the baa of the calf mingles with +the wranglings and swift ejaculations of the infant +Highlanders. In such a hut as this there are +sometimes three generations. The mother stands +knitting outside, the children are scrambling on the +floor with the terrier and the poultry, and a ray of +cloudy sunshine from the narrow pane smites the +silver hairs of the grandfather near the fire, who is +mending fishing-nets against the return of his +son-in-law from the south. Am I inclined to lift my +hands in horror at witnessing such a dwelling? +Certainly not. I have only given one side of the +picture. The hut I speak of nestles beneath a +rock, on the top of which dances the ash-tree and +the birch. The emerald mosses on its roof are +softer and richer than the velvets of kings. Twenty +yards down that path you will find a well that +needs no ice in the dog-days. At a little distance, +from rocky shelf to shelf, trips a mountain burn, +with abundance of trout in the brown pools. At +the distance of a mile is the sea, which is not +allowed to ebb and flow in vain; for in the smoke +there is a row of fishes drying; and on the floor +a curly-headed urchin of three years or thereby +is pommeling the terrier with the scarlet claw +of a lobster. Methought, too, when I entered +I saw beside the door a heap of oyster shells. +Within the hut there is good food, if a little scant +at times; without there is air that will call colour +back to the cheek of an invalid, pure water, play, +exercise, work. That the people are healthy, you +may see from their strong frames, brown faces, and +the age to which many attain; that they are happy +and light-hearted, the shouts of laughter that ring +round the peat-fire of an evening may be taken as +sufficient evidence. I protest I cannot become +pathetic over the Highland hut. I have sat in +these turfen dwellings, amid the surgings of blue +smoke, and received hospitable welcome, and found +amongst the inmates good sense, industry, family +affection, contentment, piety, happiness. And +when I have heard philanthropists, with more zeal +than discretion, maintain that these dwellings are +a disgrace to the country in which they are found, +I have thought of districts of great cities which I +have seen,—within the sound of the rich man's +chariot wheels, within hearing of multitudinous +Sabbath bells—of evil scents and sights and +sounds; of windows stuffed with rags; of female +faces that look out on you as out of a sadder +Inferno than that of Dante's; of faces of men +containing the debris of the entire decalogue, faces +which hurt you more than a blow would: of +infants poisoned with gin, of children bred for the +prison and the hulks. Depend upon it there are +worse odours than peat smoke, worse next-door +neighbours than a cow or a brood of poultry; and +although a couple of girls dragging a harrow be +hardly in accordance with our modern notions, yet +we need not forget that there are worse employment +for girls than even that. I do not stand up +for the Highland hut; but in one of these smoky +cabins I would a thousand-fold rather spend my +days than in the Cowgate of Edinburgh, or in one +of the streets that radiate from Seven Dials. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +A Highland village. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +After travelling three or four days, I beheld on +the other side of a long, blue, river-like loch, the +house of the Landlord. From the point at which I +now paused, a boat could have taken me across in +half an hour, but as the road wound round the top +of the Loch, I had yet some eight or ten miles to +drive before my journey was accomplished. Meantime +the Loch was at ebb and the sun was setting. +On the hill-side, on my left as I drove, stretched a +long street of huts covered with smoky wreaths, +and in front of each a strip of cultivated ground +ran down to the road which skirted the shore. +Potatoes grew in one strip or lot, turnips in a +second, corn in a third, and as these crops were in +different stages of advancement, the entire hillside, +from the street of huts downward, resembled one +of those counterpanes which thrifty housewifes +manufacture by sewing together patches of +different patterns. Along the road running at the +back of the huts a cart was passing; on the moory +hill behind, a flock of sheep, driven by men and +dogs, was contracting and expanding itself like +quicksilver. The women were knitting at the hut +doors, the men were at work in the cultivated +patches in front. On all this scene of cheerful +and fortunate industry, on men and women, on +turnips, oats, and potatoes, on cottages set in azure +films of peat-reek, the rosy light was striking—making +a pretty spectacle enough. From the +whole hill-side breathed peace, contentment, +happiness, and a certain sober beauty of usefulness. +Man and nature seemed in perfect agreement and +harmony—man willing to labour, nature to yield +increase. Down to the head of the Loch the road +sloped rapidly, and at the very head a small village +had established itself. It contained an inn, a +school-house, in which divine service was held on +Sundays; a smithy, a merchant's shop—all traders +are called <i>merchants</i> in Skye—and, by the side of +a stream which came brawling down from rocky +steep to steep, stood a corn mill, the big wheel lost +in a watery mist of its own raising, the door and +windows dusty with meal. Behind the village lay a +stretch of black moorland intersected by drains and +trenches, and from the black huts which seemed +to have grown out of the moor, and the spaces +of sickly green here and there, one could see that +the desolate and forbidding region had its +colonists, and that they were valiantly attempting to +wring a sustenance out of it. Who were the +squatters on the black moorland? Had they +accepted their hard conditions as a matter of +choice, or had they been banished there by a +superior power? Did the dweller in those outlying +huts bear the same relation to the villagers, +or the flourishing cotters on the hill-side, that the +gipsy bears to the English peasant, or the red +Indian to the Canadian farmer? I had no one to +inform me at the time; meanwhile the sunset fell +on these remote dwellings, lending them what +beauty and amelioration of colour it could, making +a drain sparkle for a moment, turning a far-off +pool into gold leaf, and rendering, by contrast of +universal warmth and glow, yet more beautiful +the smoke which swathed the houses. Yet after +all the impression made upon one was cheerless +enough. Sunset goes but a little way in obviating +human wretchedness. It fires the cottage window, +but it cannot call to life the corpse within; it can +sparkle on the chain of a prisoner, but with all its +sparkling it does not make the chain one whit the +lighter. Misery is often picturesque, but the +picturesqueness is in the eyes of others, not in her +own. The black moorland and the banished huts +abode in my mind during the remainder of my +drive. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Landlord's house. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Everything about a man is characteristic, more +or less; and in the house of the Landlord I found +that singular mixture of hemispheres which I had +before noticed in his talk and in his way of +looking at times. His house was plain enough +externally, but its furniture was curious and far-brought. +The interior of his porch was adorned with heads +of stags and tusks of elephants. He would show +you Highland relics, and curiosities from sacked +Eastern palaces. He had the tiny porcelain cup +out of which Prince Charles drank tea at +Kingsburgh, and the signet ring which was stripped +from the dead fingers of Tippoo Saib. In his +gun-room were modern breech-loaders and revolvers, +and matchlocks from China and Nepaul. On the +walls were Lochaber axes, claymores, and targets +that might have seen service at Inverlochy, hideous +creases, Afghan daggers, curiously-curved swords, +scabbards thickly crusted with gems. In the +library the last new novel leaned against the +"Institutes of Menu." On the drawing-room table, +beside <i>carte-de-visite</i> books, were ivory card-cases +wrought by the patient Hindoo artificer as finely +as we work our laces, Chinese puzzles that baffled +all European comprehension, and comical squab-faced +deities in silver and bronze. While the Landlord +was absent, I could fancy these strangely-assorted +articles striking one with a sense of +incongruity: but when at home, each seemed a portion +of himself. He was related as closely to the Indian +god as to Prince Charles's cup. The ash and birch +of the Highlands danced before his eyes, the palm +stood in his imagination and memory. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Landlord's pets. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +And then he surrounded himself with all kinds +of pets, and lived with them on the most intimate +terms. When he entered the breakfast-room his +terriers barked and frisked and jumped about him; +his great black hare-hound, Maida, got up from the +rug on which it had been basking and thrust its +sharp nose into his hand; his canaries broke into +emulous music, as if sunshine had come into the +room; the parrot in the porch clambered along the +cage with horny claws, settled itself on its perch, +bobbed its head up and down for a moment, and +was seized with hooping-cough. When he went +out the black hare-hound followed at his heel; the +peacock, strutting on the gravel in the shelter of +the larches, unfurled its starry fan; in the stable +his horses turned round to smell his clothes and +to have their foreheads stroked: melodious thunder +broke from the dog-kennel when he came: and +at his approach his falcons did not withdraw +haughtily, as if in human presence there was +profanation; they listened to his voice, and a gentler +something tamed for a moment the fierce cairngorms +of their eyes. When others came near +they ruffled their plumage and uttered sharp cries +of anger. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Landlord's visitors. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast it was his habit to carry the +parrot out to a long iron garden-seat in front of +the house—where, if sunshine was to be had at all, +you were certain to find it—and placing the cage +beside him, smoke a cheroot. The parrot would +clamber about the cage, suspended head +downwards would take crafty stock of you with an +eye which had perhaps looked out on the world +for a century or so, and then, righting itself, +peremptorily insist that Polly should put on the +kettle, and that the boy should shut up the grog. +On one special morning, while the Landlord was +smoking and the parrot whooping and whistling, +several men, dressed in rough pilot cloth which +had seen much service and known much darning, +came along the walk and respectfully uncovered. +Returning their salutation, the Landlord threw +away the end of his cheroot and went forward to +learn their message. The conversation was in +Gaelic: slow and gradual at first, it quickened +anon, and broke into gusts of altercation; and on +these occasions I noticed that the Landlord would +turn impatiently on his heel, march a pace or two +back to the house, and then, wheeling round, +return to the charge. He argued in the unknown +tongue, gesticulated, was evidently impressing +something on his auditors which they were unwilling +to receive, for at intervals they would look +in one another's faces,—a look plainly implying, +"Did you ever hear the like?" and give utterance +to a murmured chit, <i>chit, chit</i> of dissent and humble +protestation. At last the matter got itself +amicably settled, the deputation—each man making +a short sudden duck before putting on his +bonnet—withdrew, and the Landlord came back to the +parrot, which had, now with one eye, now with +another, been watching the proceeding. He sat +down with a slight air of annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +"These fellows are wanting more meal," he said, +"and one or two are pretty deep in my books +already." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you, then, keep regular accounts with them?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course. I give nothing for nothing. I wish +to do them as much good as I can. They are a +good deal like my old ryots, only the ryot was +more supple and obsequious." +</p> + +<p> +"Where do your friends come from?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"From the village over there," pointing across +the narrow blue loch. "Pretty Polly! Polly!" +</p> + +<p> +The parrot was climbing up and down the cage, +taking hold of the wires with beak and claw as it +did so. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish to know something of your villagers. +The cotters on the hill-side seem comfortable +enough, but I wish to know something of the black +land and the lonely huts behind." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," said he, laughing, "that is my penal +settlement—I'll drive you over to-morrow." He then +got up, tossed a stone into the shrubbery, after +which Maida dashed, thrust his hands into his +breeches' pocket for a moment, and marched into +the house. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Landlord's arrival. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Next morning we drove across to the village, +and pretty enough it looked as we alighted. The +big water-wheel of the mill whirred industrious +music, flour flying about the door and windows. +Two or three people were standing at the merchant's +shop. At the smithy a horse was haltered, +and within were brilliant showers of sparks and +the merry clink of hammers. The sunshine made +pure amber the pools of the tumbling burn, and in +one of these a girl was rinsing linen, the light +touching her hair into a richer colour. Our arrival +at the inn created some little stir. The dusty +miller came out, the smith came to the door +rubbing down his apron with a horny palm, the girl +stood upright by the burn-side shading her eyes +with her hand, one of the men at the merchant's +shop went within to tell the news, the labourers +in the fields round about stopped work to stare. +The machine was no sooner put to rights and the +horses taken round to the stable than the mistress +of the house complained that the roof was leaky, +and she and the Landlord went in to inspect the +same. Left alone for a little, I could observe that, +seeing my friend had arrived, the people were +resolved to make some use of him, and here and +there I noticed them laying down their crooked +spades, and coming down towards the inn. One +old woman, with a white handkerchief tied round +her head, sat down on a stone opposite, and when +the Landlord appeared—the matter of the leaky +roof having been arranged—she rose and dropped +a courtesy. She had a complaint to make, a benefit +to ask, a wrong to be redressed. I could not, of +course, understand a word of the conversation, but +curiously sharp and querulous was her voice, with +a slight suspicion of the whine of the mendicant +in it, and every now and then she would give a +deep sigh, and smooth down her apron with both +her hands. I suspect the old lady gained her +object, for when the Landlord cracked his joke at +parting the most curious sunshine of merriment +came into the withered features, lighting them up +and changing them, and giving one, for a flying +second, some idea of what she must have been +in her middle age, perhaps in her early youth, +when she as well as other girls had a sweetheart. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The penal settlement. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +In turn we visited the merchant's shop, the +smithy, and the mill; then we passed the +schoolhouse—which was one confused murmur, the sharp +voice of the teacher striking through at intervals—and +turning up a narrow road, came upon the +black region and the banished huts. The cultivated +hill-side was shining in sunlight, the cottages +smoking, the people at work in their crofts—everything +looking blithe and pleasant; and under the +bright sky and the happy weather the penal settlement +did not look nearly so forbidding as it had +done when, under the sunset, I had seen it a few +evenings previously. The houses were rude, but +they seemed sufficiently weather-tight. Each was +set down in a little oasis of cultivation, a little +circle in which by labour the sour land had been +coaxed into a smile of green; each small domain +was enclosed by a low turfen wall, and on the +top of one of these a wild goat-looking sheep +was feeding, which, as we approached, jumped +down with an alarmed bleat, and then turned to +gaze on the intruders. The land was sour and +stony, the dwellings framed of the rudest materials, +and the people—for they all came forward to meet +him, and at each turfen wall the Landlord held a +<i>levée</i>—especially the older people, gave one the +idea somehow of worn-out tools. In some obscure +way they reminded one of bent and warped oars, +battered spades, blunted pickaxes. On every +figure was written hard, unremitting toil. Toil had +twisted their frames, seamed and puckered their +leathern faces, made their hands horny, bleached +their grizzled locks. Your fancy had to run back +along years and years of labour before it could +arrive at the original boy or girl. Still they were +cheerful-looking after a sort, contented, and +loquacious withal. The man took off his bonnet, the +woman dropped her courtesy, before pouring into +the Landlord's ear how the wall of the house wanted +mending, how a neighbour's sheep had come into +the corn, had been <i>driven</i> into the corn out of foul +spite and envy it was suspected, how new seed +would be required for next year's sowing, how the +six missing fleeces had been found in the hut of +the old soldier across the river, and all the other +items which made up their world. And the Landlord, +his black hound couched at his feet, would +sit down on a stone, or lean against the turf wall +and listen to the whole of it, and consult as to the +best way to repair the decaying house, and discover +how defendant's sheep came into complainant's +corn, and give judgment, and promise new seed +to old Donald, and walk over to the soldier's and +pluck the heart out of the mystery of the missing +fleeces. And going in and out amongst his people, +his functions were manifold. He was not Landlord +only—he was leech, lawyer, divine. He prescribed +medicine, he set broken bones, and tied up sprained +ankles; he was umpire in a hundred petty quarrels, +and damped out wherever he went every flame of +wrath. Nor, when it was needed, was he without +ghostly counsel. On his land he would permit no +unbaptized child; if Donald was drunk and brawling +at a fair, he would, when the inevitable headache +and nausea were gone, drop in and improve +the occasion, to Donald's much discomfiture and +his many blushes; and with the bed-ridden woman, +or the palsied man, who for years had sat in the +corner of the hut as constantly as a statue sits +within its niche—just where the motty sunbeam +from the pane with its great knob of bottle-green +struck him—he held serious conversations, and +uttered words which come usually from the lips of +a clergyman. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The cottages on the hill-side. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +We then went through the cottages on the cultivated +hill-side, and there another series of <i>levées</i> +were held. One cotter complained that his +neighbour had taken advantage of him in this or the +other matter: another man's good name had been +aspersed by a scandalous tongue, and ample +apology must be made, else the sufferer would bring +the asperser before the sheriff. Norman had +borrowed for a day Neil's plough, had broken the +shaft, and when requested to make reparation, had +refused in terms too opprobrious to be repeated. +The man from Sleat who had a year or two ago +come to reside in these parts, and with whom the +world had gone prosperously, was minded at next +fair to buy another cow—would he therefore be +allowed to rent the croft which lay alongside the +one which he already possessed? To these cotters +the Landlord gave attentive ear, standing beside the +turf dike, leaning against the walls of their houses, +sitting down inside in the peat smoke—the children +gathered together in the farthest corner, and +regarding him with no little awe. And so he came +to know all the affairs of his people—who was in +debt, who was waging a doubtful battle with the +world, who had money in the bank; and going +daily amongst them he was continually engaged +in warning, expostulation, encouragement, rebuke. +Nor was he always sunshine: he was occasionally +lightning too. The tropical tornado, which +unroofs houses and splits trees, was within the +possibilities of his moods as well as the soft wind which +caresses the newly-yeaned lamb. Against greed, +laziness, dishonesty, he flamed like a seven-times +heated furnace. When he found that argument +had no effect on the obstinate or the pig-headed, +he suddenly changed his tactics, and descended +in a shower of <i>chaff</i>, which is to the Gael an +unknown and terrible power, dissolving opposition +as salt dissolves a snail. +</p> + +<p> +The last cotter had been seen, the last <i>levée</i> had +been held, and we then climbed up to the crown +of the hill to visit the traces of an old fortification, +or <i>dün</i>, as the Skye people call it. These ruins, +and they are thickly scattered over the island, are +supposed to be of immense antiquity—so old, that +Ossian may have sung in each to a circle of +Fingalian chiefs. When we reached the <i>dün</i>—a loose +congregation of mighty stones, scattered in a +circular form, with some rude remnants of an entrance +and a covered way—we sat down, and the Landlord +lighted a cheroot. Beneath lay the little village +covered with smoke. Far away to the right, Skye +stretched into ocean, pale headland after headland. +In front, over a black wilderness of moor, rose the +conical forms of Macleod's Tables, and one thought +of the "restless bright Atlantic plain" beyond, the +endless swell and shimmer of watery ridges, the +clouds of sea birds, the sudden glistening upheaval +of a whale and its disappearance, the smoky trail +of a steamer on the horizon, the tacking of +white-sailed craft. On the left, there was nothing but +moory wilderness and hill, with something on a +slope flashing in the sunshine like a diamond. A +falcon palpitating in the intense blue above, the +hare-hound cocked her ears and looked out alertly, +the Landlord with his field-glass counted the sheep +feeding on the hill-side a couple of miles off. +Suddenly he closed the glass, and lay back on the +heather, puffing a column of white smoke into +the air. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose," said I, "your going in and out +amongst your tenants to-day is very much the +kind of thing you used to do in India?" +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly. I know these fellows, every man of +them—and they know me. We get on very well +together. I know everything they do. I know all +their secrets, all their family histories, everything +they wish, and everything they fear. I think I +have done them some good since I came amongst +them." +</p> + +<p> +"But," said I, "I wish you to explain to me +your system of penal servitude, as you call it. In +what respect do the people on the cultivated +hillside differ from the people in the black ground +behind the village?" +</p> + +<p> +"Willingly. But I must premise that the giving +away of money in charity is, in nine cases out +often, tantamount to throwing money into the fire. +It does no good to the bestower: it does absolute +harm to the receiver. You see I have taken +the management of these people into my own +hands. I have built a school-house for them—on +which we will look in and overhaul on our way +down—I have built a shop, as you see, a smithy, +and a mill. I have done everything for them, and +I insist that, when a man becomes my tenant, he +shall pay me rent. If I did not so insist I should +be doing an injury to myself and to him. The +people on the hill-side pay me rent; not a man +Jack of them is at this moment one farthing in +arrears. The people down there in the black land +behind the village, which I am anxious to reclaim, +don't pay rent. They are broken men, broken +sometimes by their own fault and laziness, sometimes +by culpable imprudence, sometimes by stress +of circumstances. When I settle a man there I +build him a house, make him a present of a bit of +land, give him tools, should he require them, and +set him to work. He has the entire control of all +he can produce. He improves my land, and can, +if he is industrious, make a comfortable living. I +won't have a pauper on my place: the very sight +of a pauper sickens me." +</p> + +<p> +"But why do you call the black lands your +penal settlement?" +</p> + +<p> +Here the Landlord laughed. "Because, should +any of the crofters on the hill-side, either from +laziness or misconduct, fall into arrears, I transport +him at once. I punish him by sending him among +the people who pay no rent. It's like taking the +stripes off a sergeant's arm and degrading him to +the ranks; and if there is any spirit in the man he +tries to regain his old position. I wish my people +to respect themselves, and to hold poverty in +horror." +</p> + +<p> +"And do many get back to the hill-side again?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes! and they are all the better for their +temporary banishment. I don't wish residence +there to be permanent in any case. When one of +these fellows gets on, makes a little money, I have +him up here at once among the rent-paying people. +I draw the line at a cow." +</p> + +<p> +"How?" +</p> + +<p> +"When a man by industry or by self-denial has +saved money enough to buy a cow, I consider the +black land is no longer the place for him. He is +able to pay rent, and he must pay it. I brought +an old fellow up here the other week, and very +unwilling he was to come. He had bought himself +a cow, and so I marched him up here at once. I +wish to stir all these fellows up, to put into them a +little honest pride and self-respect." +</p> + +<p> +"And how do they take to your system?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, they grumbled a good deal at first, and +thought their lines were hard; but discovering that +my schemes have been for their benefit, they are +content enough now. In these black lands, you +observe, I not only rear corn and potatoes, I rear +and train men, which is the most valuable crop of +all. But let us be going. I wish you to see my +scholars. I think I have got one or two smart +lads down there." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The school. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +In a short time we reached the school-house, a +plain, substantial-looking building, standing +mid-way between the inn and the banished huts. As +it was arranged that neither schoolmaster nor +scholar should have the slightest idea that they +were to be visited that day, we were enabled to see +the school in its ordinary aspect. When we entered +the master came forward and shook hands with +the Landlord, the boys pulled their red fore-locks, +the girls dropped their best courtesies. Sitting +down on a form I noted the bare walls, a large map +hanging on one side, the stove with a heap of peats +near it, the ink-smeared bench and the row of girls' +heads, black, red, yellow, and brown, surmounting +it, and the boys, barefooted and in tattered kilts, +gathered near the window. The girls regarded us +with a shy, curious gaze, which was not ungraceful; +and in several of the freckled faces there was +the rudiments of beauty, or of comeliness at least. +The eyes of all, boys as well as girls, kept +twinkling over our persons, taking silent note of +everything. I don't think I ever before was +the subject of so much curiosity. One was +pricked all over by quick-glancing eyes as by +pins. We had come to examine the school, +and the ball opened by a display of copy books. +Opening these, we found pages covered with +"<i>Emulation is a generous passion,</i>" "<i>Emancipation +does not make man,</i>" in very fair and legible +handwriting. Expressing our satisfaction, the +schoolmaster bowed low, and the prickling of the +thirty or forty curious eyes became yet more +keen and rapid. The schoolmaster then called +for those who wished to be examined in +geography—very much as a colonel might seek +volunteers for a forlorn hope—and in a trice six +scholars, kilted, of various ages and sizes, but all +shock-headed and ardent, were drawn up in line in +front of the large map. A ruler was placed in the +hand of a little fellow at the end, who, with his +eyes fixed on the schoolmaster and his body +bent forward eagerly, seemed as waiting the +signal to start off in a race. "Number one, +point out river Tagus." Number one charged +the Peninsula with his ruler as ardently as his +great-grandfather in all probability charged the +French at Quebec. "Through what country +does the Tagus flow?" "Portugal." "What is +the name of the capital city?" "Lisbon." Number +one having accomplished his devoir, the ruler +was handed on to number two, who traced the +course of the Danube, and answered several +questions thereanent with considerable intelligence. +Number five was a little fellow; he was asked +to point out Portree, and as the Western Islands +hung too high in the north for him to reach, he +jumped at them. He went into the North Sea the +first time, but on his second attempt he smote +Skye with his ruler very neatly. Numbers three, +four, and six acquitted themselves creditably—number +four boggling a little deal about Constantinople—much +to the vexation of the schoolmaster. +Slates were then produced, and the six geographers—who +were the cream of the school, I daresay—were +prepared for arithmetical action. As I was +examiner, and had no desire to get into deep +waters, the efforts of my kilted friends were, at my +request, confined to the good old rule of simple +addition. The schoolmaster called out ten or +eleven ranks of figures, and then cried add. Six +swishes of the slate-pencil were heard, and then +began the arithmetical tug of war. Each face was +immediately hidden behind a slate, and we could +hear the quick tinkle of pencils. All at once there +was a hurried swish, and the red-head, who had +boggled about Constantinople, flashed round his +slate on me with the summation fairly worked out. +Flash went another slate, then another, till the six +were held out. All the answers corresponded, and +totting up the figures I found them correct. Then +books were procured, and we listened to English +reading. In a loud tone of voice, as if they were +addressing some one on an opposite hill-side, and +with barbarous intonation, the little fellows read +off about a dozen sentences each. Now and again +a big word brought a reader to grief, as a tall fence +brings a steeple-chaser; now and again a reader +went through a word as a hunter goes through a +hedge which he cannot clear—but, on the whole, +they deserved the commendation which they +received. The Landlord expressed his satisfaction, +and mentioned that he had left at the inn two +baskets of gooseberries for the scholars. The +schoolmaster again bowed; and although the eyes +of the scholars were as bright and curious as +before, they had laid their heads together, and +were busily whispering now. +</p> + +<p> +The schools in Skye bear the same relationship +to the other educational establishments of the +country that a turf-hut bears to a stone-and-lime +cottage. These schools are scattered thinly up and +down the Island, and the pupils are unable to +attend steadily on account of the distances they have +to travel, and the minor agricultural avocations in +which they are at intervals engaged. The schoolmaster +is usually a man of no surpassing intelligence +or acquirement; he is wretchedly remunerated, +and his educational aids and appliances, +such as books, maps, &c., are defective. But still +a turf-hut is better than no shelter, and a Skye +school is better than no school at all. The school, +for instance, which we had just visited, was an +authentic light in the darkness. There boys and +girls were taught reading, writing, and ciphering—plain +and homely accomplishments it is true, but +accomplishments that bear the keys of all the doors +that lead to wealth and knowledge. The boy +or girl who can read, write, and cast up accounts +deftly, is not badly equipped for the battle of life; +and although the school which the Landlord has +established is plain and unostentatious in its forms +and modes of instruction, it at least, with tolerable +success, teaches these. For the uses made of them +by the pupils in after life, the pupils are themselves +responsible. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h3> +<i>ORBOST AND DUNVEGAN.</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Punctually at nine next morning there was +a grating of wheels on the gravel, and Malcolm +and his dog-cart were at the door. After a +little delay I took my place on the vehicle and we +drove off. Malcolm was a thick-set, good-humoured, +red haired and whiskered little fellow, who could +be silent for half a day if needed, but who could +speak, and speak to the point, too, when required. +When driving, and especially when the chestnut +mare exhibited any diminution of speed, he kept +up a running fire of ejaculations. "Go on," he +would say, as he shook the reins, for the whip he +mercifully spared, "what are you thinking about?" +"Hoots! chit, chit, chit! I'm ashamed of you!" +"Now then. Hoots!" and these reproaches seemed +to touch the mare's heart, for at every ejaculation +she made a dash forward as if the whip had +touched her. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +View from the dog-cart +</span> +</p> + +<p> +On the way from Grishornish to Dunvegan, +about a couple of miles from the latter place, a road +branches off to the right and runs away downward +through the heathery waste; and about forty yards +onward you come to a bridge spanning a gully, +and into this gully three streams leap and become +one, and then the sole stream flows also to the right +with shallow fall and brawling rapid, the companion +of the descending road. The road up to the +bridge is steep, but it is steeper beyond, and at the +bridge Malcolm jumped down and walked alongside +with the reins in his hands. In the slow +progression your eye naturally follows the road and +the stream; and beyond the flank of a hill sloping +gradually down to the purple gloom of undulating +moorland, you catch a glimpse of a bit of blue sea, +some white broken cliffs that drop down into it; +and, leaning on these cliffs, a great green sunny +strath, with a white dot of a house upon it. The +glimpse of sea, and white cliffs, and stretch of +sunny greenness is pleasant; the hill, which you +have yet to climb, keeps the sun from you, and all +around are low heathery eminences. You stare at +the far-off sunlit greenness, and having satisfied +yourself therewith, begin to examine the ground +above and on either side of the bridge, and find it +possessed of much pastoral richness and variety. +The main portion is covered with heather, but near +you there are clumps of ferns, and further back are +soft banks and platforms of verdure on which kine +might browse and ruminate, and which only require +the gilding of sunshine to make them beautiful. +"What bridge is this?" I asked of Malcolm, who +was still trudging alongside with the reins in his +hand. "The Fairy Bridge"—and then I was told +that the fairy sits at sunset on the green knolls +and platforms of pasture chirming and singing +songs to the cows; and that when a traveller +crosses the bridge, and toils up the hill, she is sure +to accompany him. As this was our own course, +I asked, "Is the fairy often seen now?" "Not +often. It's the old people who know about her. +The shepherds sometimes hear her singing when +they are coming down the hill; and years ago, a +pedlar was found lying across the road up there +dead; and it was thought that the fairy had +walked along with him. But, indeed, I never saw +or heard her myself—only that is what the old +people say." And so in a modern dog-cart you +are slowly passing through one of the haunted +places in Skye! +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The spoiling of the dikes. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +I fancy Malcolm must have seen that this kind +of talk interested me. "Did you ever hear, sir, +about the Battle of the Spoiling of the Dikes down +at Trompon Kirk, yonder?" and he pointed with +his whip to the yellow-green strath which broke +down in cliffs to the sea. +</p> + +<p> +I answered that I never had, and Malcolm's +narrative flowed on at once. +</p> + +<p> +"You see, sir, there was a feud between the +Macdonalds of the Mainland and the Macleods of +Trotternish; and one Sunday, when the Macleods +were in church, the Macdonalds came at full of +tide, unknown to any one, and fastened their +boats to the arched rocks on the shore—for it's +a strange coast down there, full of caves and +natural bridges and arches. Well, after they had +fastened their boats, they surrounded the church, +secured the door, and set it on fire. Every one +was burned that Sunday except one woman, who +squeezed herself through a window—it was so +narrow that she left one of her breasts behind +her—and escaped carrying the news. She raised the +country with her crying and the sight of her +bloody clothes. The people—although it was +Sunday—rose, men and women, and came down +to the burning church, and there the battle began. +The men of Macleod's country fought, and the +women picked up the blunted arrows, sharpened +them on the stones, and then gave them to the +men. The Macdonalds were beaten at last, and +made for their boats. But by this time it was ebb +of tide; and what did they see but the boats in +which they had come, and which they had fastened +to the rocky arches, hanging in the air! Like an +otter, when its retreat to the sea is cut off, the +Macdonalds turned on the men of Macleod's country and +fought till the last of them fell, and in the sheughs +of the sand their blood was running down red into +the sea. At that time the tide came further in than +it does now, and the people had built a turf dike +to keep it back from their crops. Then they took +the bodies of the Macdonalds and laid them down +side by side at the foot of the dike, and tumbled +it over on the top of them. That was the way they +were buried. And after they had tumbled the +dike they were vexed, for they minded then that +the sea might come in and destroy their crops. +That's the reason that the battle is called the +Battle of the Spoiled Dikes." +</p> + +<p> +"The men of Macleod's country would regret the +spoiling of the dikes, as Bruce the battle-axe with +which, on the evening before Bannockburn, and in +the seeing of both armies, he cracked the skull of +the English knight who came charging down upon +him." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Sciur of Eig. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Undiverted by my remark, Malcolm went on, +"Maybe, sir, you have seen the Sciur of Eig as +you came past in the steamer?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and I know the story. The Macdonalds +were cooped up in a cave, and the Macleods +ranged over the island and could find no +trace of them. They then in high dudgeon +returned to their boats, meaning to depart next +morning. There was a heavy fall of snow during +the night, was there not? and just when the +Macleods were about to sail, the figure of a man, who +had come out to see if the invaders were gone, was +discerned on the top of the Sciur, against the sky +line. The Macleods returned, and by the foot-prints +in the snow they tracked the man to his +hiding-place. They then heaped up heath and what +timber they could procure, at the mouth of the +cave, applied fire, and suffocated all who had +therein taken shelter. Is that not it?" +</p> + +<p> +"The Macdonalds first burned the church at +Trompon down there. The bones of the Macdonalds +are lying in the cave to this day, they say. +I should like to see them." +</p> + +<p> +"But don't you think it was a dreadful revenge? +Eig was one of the safe places of the Macdonalds; +and the people in the cave were chiefly old men, +women, and children. Don't you think it was a +very barbarous act, Malcolm?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," said Malcolm; "I am a Macleod +myself." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Macleod's Tables. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +By the time I had heard the story of Lady +Grange, who sleeps in the Trompon churchyard, +we had toiled pretty well up the steep ascent. On +our way we heard no fairy singing to the kine, +nor did any unearthly figure accompany us. +Perhaps the witchery of the setting sun was needed. +By the time we reached the top of the hill the +pyramidical forms of Macleod's Tables were +distinctly visible, and then Malcolm took his seat +beside me in the dog-cart. +</p> + +<p> +Macleod's Tables, two hills as high as Arthur's +Seat, flat at the top as any dining-table in the +country—from which peculiar conformation +indeed they draw their names—and covered deep +into spring by a table-cloth of snow; Macleod's +Maidens, three spires of rock rising sheer out of +the sea, shaped like women, around whose feet +the foamy wreaths are continually forming, fleeting, +and disappearing—what magic in the names of +rocky spire and flat-topped hill to him who bears +the name of Macleod, and who can call them his +own! What is modern wealth—association-less, +without poetry, melting like snow in the hot hand +of a spendthrift—compared to that old inheritance +of land, which is patent to the eye, which +bears your name, around which legends gather,—all +vital to you as your great-grandmother's blue +eyes and fair hair; as your great-grandfather's +hot temper and the corrugation of his forehead +when he frowned! These bold landmarks of +family possession must be regarded with +peculiar interest by the family. They make the +white sheet on which you—a shadow of fifty +years or thereby—are projected by the camera +obscura of fate. The Tables and the Maidens +remain for ever bearing your name, while you—the +individual Macleod—are as transitory as the mist +wreath of the morning which melts on the one, or +the momentary shape of wind-blown foam which +perishes on the base of the other. The value of +these things is spiritual, and cannot be affected by +the click of the auctioneer's hammer, or the running +of the hour-glass sand on the lawyer's table +after the title-deeds have been read and the bids +are being made. Wealth is mighty, but it can no +more buy these things than it can buy love, or +reverence, or piety. Jones may buy the Tables and the +Maidens, but they do not own him; he is for ever +an alien: they wear the ancient name, they dream +the ancient dream. When poverty has stripped +your livery from all your servants, they remain +faithful. When an Airlie is about to die, with +tuck of drum, they say, a ghostly soldier marches +round the castle. Rothschild, with all his +millions, could not buy that drummer's services. +What is the use of buying an estate to-day? It is +never wholly yours; the old owner holds part +possession with you. It is like marrying a widow; +you hold her heart, but you hold it in partnership +with the dead. I should rather be the plainest +English yeoman whose family has been in possession +of a farm since the Heptarchy than be the +richest banker in Europe. The majority of men +are like Arabs, their tents are pitched here to-night +and struck to-morrow. Those families only who +have held lands for centuries can claim an abiding +home. In such families there is a noble sense of +continuity, of the unbroken onflowing of life. The +pictures and the furniture speak of forefather and +foremother. Your ancestor's name is on your books, +and you see the pencil marks which he has placed +against the passages that pleased him. The +necklace your daughter wears heaved on the breast of +the ancestress from whom she draws her smile and +her eyes. The rookery that caws to-night in the +sober sunset cawed in the ears of the representative +of your house some half-dozen generations back—the +very same in every respect, 'tis the individual +rooks only that have changed. The +full-foliaged murmur of the woods shape your name, +and yours only. As for these Macleods— +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The house at Orbost. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"That's Orbost, sir, the house under the hill," +said Malcolm, pointing with his whip, and obviously +tired of the prolonged silence, "and yonder on the +left are the Cuchullins. The sea is down there, +but you cannot see it from this. We'll be there +in half an hour," and exactly in half an hour, with +Macleod's Tables behind us, we passed the garden +and the offices, and alighted on the daisied sward +before the house. +</p> + +<p> +After I had wandered about for an hour I +made up my mind that, had I the choice, I should +rather live at Orbost than at any other house in +Skye. And yet, at Orbost, the house itself is the +only thing that can reasonably be objected to. In +the first place, it is one of those elegant expressionless +houses in the Italian style with which one is +familiar in the suburban districts of large cities, +and as such it is quite out of keeping with the +scenery and the spiritual atmosphere of the island. +It is too modern, and villa like. It is as innocent of +a legend as Pall Mall. It does not believe in ghost +stories. It has a dandified and sceptical look; +and as it has not taken to the island, the island +has not taken to it. Around it trees have +not grown well; they are mere stunted trunks, +bare, hoary, wind-writhen. There is not a lichen +or discoloration on its smoothly-chiselled walls; +not a single chimney or gable has been shrouded +with affectionate ivy. It looks like a house which +has "cut" the locality, and which the locality has +"cut" in return. In the second place, the house is +stupidly situated. It turns a cold shoulder on the +grand broken coast; on the ten miles of sparkling +sea on which the sun is showering millions of silver +coins, ever a new shower as the last one disappears; +on Rum, with a veil of haze on its highest +peak; on the lyrical Cuchullins—for although of +the rigidest granite, they always give one the idea +of passion and tumult; on the wild headlands of +Bracadale, fading one after another, dimmer and +dimmer, into distance;—on all this the house turns +a cold shoulder, and on a meadow on which some +dozen colts are feeding, and on a low strip of +moory hill beyond, from which the cotters draw +their peats, it stares intently with all its doors and +windows. Right about face. Attention! That +done, the most fastidious could object to nothing +at Orbost, on the point of beauty at least. The +faces of the Skye people, continually set like flints +against assaults of wind and rain, are all lined and +puckered about the eyes; and in Skye houses you +naturally wish to see something of the same +weather-beaten look. Orbost, with its smooth +front and unwinking windows, outrages the fitness +of things. +</p> + +<p> +Of the interior no one can complain; for on +entering you are at once surrounded by a proper +antiquity and venerableness. The dining-room is +large and somewhat insufficiently lighted, and on +the walls hang two of Raeburn's half-lengths—the +possession of which are in themselves vouchers of +a family's respectability—and several portraits of +ladies with obsolete waists and head-dresses, and +military gentlemen in the uniform of last century. +The furniture is dark and massy; the mahogany +drawing depth and colour from age and usage; the +carpet has been worn so bare that the pattern has +become nearly obliterated. The room was not tidy, +I was pleased to see. A small table placed near +the window was covered with a litter of papers; +in one corner were guns and fishing-rods, and a +fishing-basket laid near them on the floor; and +the round dusty mirror above the mantelpiece—which +had the curious faculty of reducing your +size, so that in its depth you saw yourself as it +were at a considerable distance—had spills of +paper stuck between its gilded frame and the wall. +From these spills of paper I concluded that the +house was the abode of a bachelor who +occasionally smoked after dinner—which, indeed, was +the case, only the master of the house was from +home at the time of my visit. In the drawing-room, +across the lobby, hooped ladies of Queen +Anne's time might have sat and drunk tea out of +the tiniest china cups. The furniture was elegant, +but it was the elegance of an ancient beau. The +draperies were rich, but they had lost colour, like a +spinster's cheek. In a corner stood a buffet with +specimens of cracked china. Curious Indian +ornaments, and a volume of Clarissa Harlowe, and +another volume of the Poetical Works of Mr Alexander +Pope—the binding faded, the paper dim—lay +on the central table. Had the last reader left them +there? They reminded me of the lute—it may be +seen at this day in Pompeii—which the dancing +girl flung down in an idle moment. In a dusky +corner a piano stood open, but the ivory keys had +grown yellow, and all richness of voice had been +knocked out of them by the fingerings of dead +girls. I touched them, and heard the metallic +complaint of ill-usage, of old age, of utter +loneliness and neglect. I thought of Ossian, and the +flight of the dark-brown years. It was the first +time they had spoken for long. The room, too, +seemed to be pervaded by a scent of withered rose +leaves, but whether this odour lived in the sense +or the imagination, it would be useless to inquire. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The garden at Orbost. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Orbost lies pleasantly to the sun, and in the +garden I could almost fancy Malvolio walking +cross-gartered—so trim it was, so sunnily sedate, so +formal, so ancient-looking. The shadow on the dial +told the age of the day, clipped box-wood ran along +every walk. Trees, crucified to the warm brick walls, +stretched out long arms on which fruit was ripening. +The bee had stuck his head so deeply into a +rose that he could hardly get it out again, and so +with the leaves—as a millionaire with bank-notes—he +impatiently buzzed and fidgeted. And then you +were not without sharp senses of contrast: out of +the sunny warmth and floral odours you lifted +your eyes, and there were Macleod's Tables rising +in an atmosphere of fable; and up in the wind +above you, turning now and again its head in alert +outlook, skimmed a snow-white gull, weary—as +tailors sometimes are with sitting—of dancing on +the surges of the sea. +</p> + +<p> +Orbost stands high above the sea, and if you +wish thoroughly to enjoy yourself you must walk +down the avenue to the stone seat placed on the +road which winds along the brow of the broken +cliffs, and which, by many a curve and bend, +reaches the water level at about a quarter of a +mile's distance, where there is a boat-house, and +boats lying keel uppermost or sideways, and a +stretch of yellow sand on which the tide is flowing, +creamy line after creamy line. From where you sit +the ground breaks down first in a wall of cliff, then +in huge boulders as big as churches, thereafter in +bushy broken ground with huts perched in the +coziest places, each hut swathed in the loveliest +films of blue smoke; and all through this broken +ground there are narrow winding paths along which +a cow is always being gingerly driven, or a wild +Indian-looking girl is bringing water from some cool +spring beneath. Here you can quietly enjoy the +expanse of dazzling sea, a single sail breaking the +restless scintillations; far Rum asleep on the silver +floor; and, caught at a curious angle, the Cuchullin +hills—reminding you of some stranded iceberg, +splintered, riven, many-ridged, which the sun in +all his centuries has been unable to melt. In the +present light they have a curiously hoary look, +and you can notice that in the higher corries there +are long streaks of snow. +<span class="sidenote"> +The glen at Orbost. +</span> +On the right, beyond +the boat-house, a great hill, dappled with brown +and olive like a seal's back, and traversed here and +there by rocky terraces, breaks in precipices down +to the sea line; and between it and the hill on +which you are sitting, and which slopes +upward behind, you see the beginning of a deep +glen, in its softness and greenness suggesting +images of pastoral peace, the bringing home of +rich pails by milkmaids, the lowing of cattle in +sober ruddy sunsets. "What glen is that, +Malcolm?" "Oh, sir, it just belongs to the farm." "Is +there a house in it?" "No, but there's the +ruins of a dozen." "How's that?" "Ye see, the +old Macleods liked to keep their cousins and +second cousins about them; and so Captain +Macleod lived at the mouth of the glen, and Major +Macleod at the top of it, and Colonel Macleod over +the hill yonder. If the last trumpet had been +blown at the end of the French war, no one but a +Macleod would have risen out of the churchyard at +Dunvegan. If you want to see a chief now-a-days, +you must go to London for him. Ay, sir, Dun +Kenneth's prophecy has come to pass—'In the +days of Norman, son of the third Norman, there +will be a noise in the doors of the people, and +wailing in the house of the widow; and Macleod +will not have so many gentlemen of his name as +will row a five-oared boat around the Maidens!' The +prophecy has come to pass, and the Tables +are no longer Macleod's—at least one of them +is not." +</p> + +<p> +After wandering about Orbost we resumed our +seats in the dog-cart, and drove to Dunvegan +Castle. +</p> + +<p> +As we drew near Dunvegan we came down on +one of those sinuous sea-lochs which—hardly +broader than a river—flow far inland, and carry +mysteriousness of sight and sound, the gliding sail, +the sea-bird beating high against the wind, to the +door of the shepherd, who is half a sailor among +his bleating flocks. Across the sea, and almost +within hail of your voice, a farm and outhouses +looked embattled against the sky. Along the +shore, as we drove, were boats and nets, and +here and there little clumps and knots of houses. +People were moving about on the roads intent on +business. We passed a church, a merchant's store, +a post-office; we were plainly approaching some +village of importance; and on the right hand the +chestnuts, larches, and ashes which filled every +hollow, and covered every rolling slope, gave +sufficient indication that we were approaching the +castle. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The garden at Dunvegan. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +In the centre of these woods we turned up a +narrow road to the right along which ran a wall, +and stopped at a narrow postern door. Here +Malcolm rang a bell—the modern convenience +grating somewhat on my preconceived notions of +an approach to the old keep; if he had blown a +horn I daresay I should have felt better +satisfied—and in due time we were admitted by a trim +damsel. The bell was bad, but the brilliant garden +into which we stepped was worse—soft level lawns, +a huge star of geraniums, surrounded at proper +distances by half-moons and crescents of calceolarias +rimmed with lobelias. The garden was circled +by a large wall, against which fruit-trees were +trained. In thinking of Dunvegan my mind had +unconsciously become filled with desolate and +Ossianic images, piled and hoary rocks, the thistle +waving its beard in the wind, flakes of sea spray +flying over all—and behold I rang a bell as if I were +in Regent Street, and by a neat damsel was +admitted into a garden that would have done no +discredit to Kensington! After passing through the +garden we entered upon a space of wild woodland, +containing some fine timber, and romance began to +revive. Malcolm then led me to an outhouse, and +pointed out a carved stone above the doorway, +on which were quartered the arms of the Macleods +and Macdonalds. "Look there," said he, +"Macleod has built the stone into his barn which +should have been above his fire-place in his dining-room." +</p> + +<p> +"I see the bull's head of Macleod and the galley +of Macdonald—were the families in any way connected?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oftener by a bloody dirk than by a gold marriage +ring. But with all their quarrellings they +intermarried more than once. Dunvegan was +originally a stronghold of the Macdonald." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed! and how did the Macleods get possession?" +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The sinking of the barge. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"I'll tell you that," said Malcolm. "Macdonald +of Dunvegan had no son, but his only daughter was +married to Macleod of Harris, and a young chief +was growing up in Macleod's castle. The +Macdonalds, knowing that when the old man was dead, +they would have no one to lead them to battle, +were pondering whom they should elect as chief; +and, at the same time, Macleod's lady was just +as anxiously pondering by what means her son +should sit in Dunvegan. Well, while all this +thinking and scheming was going on secretly in Skye +and Harris, Macdonald, wishing to visit Macleod, +ordered his barge and rowers to be in readiness, +and pushed off. Macleod, hearing that his +father-in-law was coming, went out in his barge to meet +him half-way, and to escort him to his castle with +all honour. Macleod's barge was bigger and +stronger than Macdonald's, and held a greater +number of rowers; and while his men were pulling, +the chief sat in the stern steering, and his wife sat +by his side. When they got into mid-channel a +heavy mist came down, but still the men pulled, +and still Macleod steered. All at once Macleod +found that he was running straight on his father-in-law's +barge, and just when he had his hand on the +helm to change the course and avoid striking, his +wife gripped him hard and whispered in his ear, +'Macleod, Macleod, there's only that barge +betwixt you and Dunvegan.' Macleod took the hint, +steered straight on, struck and sunk Macdonald's +barge in the mist, and sailed for Dunvegan, which +he claimed in the name of his son. That is the +way, as the old people tell, that Macleod came +into possession here." +</p> + +<p> +Then we strolled along the undulating paths, +and at a sudden turn there was the ancient keep +on its rock, a stream brawling down close at hand, +the tide far withdrawn, the long shore heaped with +dulse and tangle, and the sea-mews above the +flag-staff, as the jackdaws fly above the cathedral +towers in England. It was gray as the rock +on which it stood—there were dark tapestries of +ivy on the walls, but at a first glance it was +disappointingly modern-looking. I thought of the +mighty shell of Tantallon looking towards the +Bass, and waving a matted beard of lichens in the +sea wind, and began to draw disadvantageous +comparisons. The feeling was foolishness, and on a +better acquaintance with the building it wore off. +Dunvegan is inhabited, and you cannot have well-aired +sheets, a well-cooked dinner, and the venerableness +of ruin. Comfort and decay are never +companions. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Dunvegan. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Dunvegan reminds one of a fragment of an old +ballad, encumbered with a modern editor's introductory +chapter, historical disquisitions, critical +comments, explanatory and illustrative notes, and +glossarial index. The dozen or so of rude stanzas—a +whole remote passionate world dwelling in +them as in some wizard's mirror—is by far the +most valuable portion of the volume, although, in +point of bulk, it bears no proportion to the +subsidiary matter which has grown around it. +Dunvegan is perhaps the oldest inhabited building in +the country, but the ancient part is of small +extent. One portion of it, it is said, was built in +the ninth century. A tower was added in the +fifteenth, another portion in the sixteenth, and the +remainder by different hands, and at irregular +intervals since then. No inconsiderable portion is +unquestionably modern. The old part of the +castle looks toward the sea, and entrance is +obtained by a steep and narrow archway—up which, +perhaps, came Macleod of Harris after he sunk the +barge of his father-in-law in the misty Minch. In +a crevice in the wall, which forms one side of this +entrance, a well was recently discovered; it had +been built up—no man knows for how long—and +when tasted, the water was found perfectly sweet +and pure. In the old days of strife and broil it +may have cooled many a throat thirsty with siege. +The most modern portion of the building, I should +fancy, is the present frontage, which, as you +approach it by the bridge which solidly fills up the +ravine, is not without a certain grandeur and +nobility of aspect. The rock on which the castle +stands is surrounded on three sides by the sea; +and fine as the old pile looked at ebb of tide, one +could fancy how much its appearance would be +improved with all that far-stretching ugliness of +sand and tangle obliterated, and the rock swathed +with the azure and silence of ocean. To sleep +in a bed-room at Dunvegan in such circumstances, +must be like sleeping in a bed-room in +fairy-land. You might hear a mermaid singing +beneath your window, and looking out into the +moonlight, behold, rising from the glistening +swells, the perilous beauty of her breasts and +hair. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Macleod portraits. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +After viewing the castle from various points, we +boldly advanced across the bridge and rang the +bell. After waiting some little time, we were +admitted by a man who—the family at the time +being from home—seemed the only person in +possession. He was extremely polite, volunteered to +show us all over the place, and regretted that in +the prolonged absence of his master the carpets +and furniture in the "drawing-room" had been +lifted. The familiar English <i>patois</i> sounded strange +in the castle of a Macleod! On his invitation we +entered an unfurnished hall with galleries running +to left and right, and on the wooden balustrades of +one of these galleries the great banner of Macleod +was dispread—a huge white sheet on which the +arms and legend of the house were worked in +crimson. Going up stairs, we passed through +spacious suites of rooms, carpetless, and with the +furniture piled up in the centre and covered with +an awning—through every window obtaining a +glimpse of blue Loch and wild Skye headland. +In most cases in the rooms the family pictures +were left hanging, some fine, others sorry daubs +enough, yet all interesting as suggesting the +unbroken flow of generations. Here was Rory +More, who was knighted in the reign of James +VI. Here was the Macdonald lady, whose marriage +with the Macleod of that day was the occasion of +the arms of the families being united on the +sculptured stone which we saw built above the door of +the barn outside. Here was a haughty-looking +young man of twenty-five, and yonder the same +man at sixty, grim, wrinkled, suspicious-looking—resembling +the earlier portrait only in the pride of +eye and lip. Here were Macleod beauties who +married and became mothers in other houses; +yonder were beauties from other castles who +became mothers here, and grew gray-haired and +died, leaving a reminiscence of their features in the +family for a generation or two. Here was the +wicked Macleod, yonder the spendthrift in whose +hands the family wealth melted, and over there +the brave soldier standing with outstretched arm, +elephants and Indian temples forming an +appropriate background. The rooms were spacious, +every window affording a glorious sea view; but +from their unfurnished and dismantled condition +there arose a sort of Ossianic desolation, which +comfortless as it must have been to a permanent +dweller, did not fail to yield a certain gloomy +pleasure to the imagination of the visitor of an +hour. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Macleod dungeons. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Passing up and down stairs in the more ancient +portion of the castle, the man in possession showed +us the dungeons in which the Macleods immured +their prisoners. I had fancied that these would +have been scooped out of the rock on which the +castle stood. Whether such existed I cannot say; +but by candle-light I peered into more than one +stony closet let into the mighty wall—the entrance +of which the garments of the lady must have swept +every night as she went to bed—where the captured +foemen of the family were confined. Perhaps +the near contiguity of the prisoner, perhaps +the sweeping of garments past the dungeon door, +perhaps the chance-heard groan or clank of +manacle, constituted the exquisite zest and flavour +of revenge. Men keep their dearest treasures near +them; and it might be that the neighbourhood +of the wretch he hated—so near that the sound +of revel could reach him at times—was more +grateful to Macleod than his burial in some +far-away vault, perhaps to be forgotten. Who +knows! It is difficult to creep into the hearts +of those old sea-kings. If I mistake not, one +of the dungeons is at present used as a wine +cellar. So the world and the fashion of it +changes! Where the Macleod of three centuries +ago kept his prisoner, the Macleod of to-day keeps +his claret. From which of its uses the greatest +amount of satisfaction has been derived would be +a curious speculation. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The fairy room. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +By a narrow spiral stair we reached the most +interesting apartment in Dunvegan—the Fairy +Room, in which Sir Walter Scott slept once. This +apartment is situated in the ancient portion of the +building, it overlooks the sea, and its walls are of +enormous thickness. From its condition I should +almost fancy that no one has slept there since Sir +Walter's time. In it, at the period of my visit, +there was neither bedstead nor chair, and it seemed +a general lumber room. The walls were hung +with rusty broadswords, dirks, targes, pistols, +Indian helmets; and tunics of knitted steel were +suspended on frames, but so rotten with age and +neglect that a touch frayed them as if they had +been woven of worsted. There were also curved +scimitars, and curiously-hafted daggers, and two +tattered regimental flags—that no doubt plunged +through battle smoke in the front of charging +lines—and these last I fancied had been brought home +by the soldier whose portrait I had seen in one of +the modern rooms. Moth-eaten volumes were +scattered about amid a chaos of rusty weapons, +cruses, and lamps. In one corner lay a huge +oaken chest with a chain wound round it, but the +lid was barely closed, and through the narrow +aperture a roll of paper protruded docketed in clerkly +and and with faded ink—accounts of —— from +1715 till some time at the close of the century—in +which doubtless some curious items were imbedded. +On everything lay the dust and neglect of years. +The room itself was steeped in a half twilight. +The merriest sunbeam became grave as it slanted +across the corroded weapons in which there was +no answering gleam. Cobwebs floated from the +corners of the walls—the spiders which wove them +having died long ago of sheer age. To my feeling +it would be almost impossible to laugh in the +haunted chamber, and if you did so you would be +startled by a strange echo as if something mocked +you. There was a grave-like odour in the apartment. +You breathed dust and decay. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The fairy flag. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Seated on the wooden trunk round which the +chain was wound, while Malcolm with his hand +thrust in the hilt of a broadsword, was examining +the notches on its blade, I inquired, +</p> + +<p> +"Is there not a magic flag kept at Dunvegan? +The flag was the gift of a fairy, if I remember the +story rightly." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Malcolm, making a cut at an +imaginary foeman, and then hanging the weapon up +on the wall; "but it is kept in a glass case, and +never shown to strangers, at least when the family +is from home." +</p> + +<p> +"How did Macleod come into possession of the +flag, Malcolm?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, the old people say that one of the Macleods +fell in love with a fairy, and used to meet +her on the green hill out there. Macleod promised +to marry her; and one night the fairy gave him a +green flag, telling him that, when either he or one +of his race was in distress, the flag was to be +waved, and relief would be certain. Three times +the flag might be waved; but after the third time +it might be thrown into the fire, for the power +would have gone all out of it. I don't know, +indeed, how it was, but Macleod deserted the fairy +and married a woman." +</p> + +<p> +"Is there anything astonishing in that? Would +you not rather marry a woman than a fairy yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe, if she was a rich one like the woman +Macleod married," said Malcolm with a grin. +"But when the fairy heard of the marriage she +was in a great rage whatever. She cast a spell +over Macleod's country, and all the women brought +forth dead sons, and all the cows brought forth +dead calves. Macleod was in great tribulation. +He would soon have no young men to fight his +battles, and his tenants would soon have no milk +or cheese wherewith to pay their rents. The cry +of his people came to him as he sat in his castle, +and he waved the flag, and next day over the +country there were living sons and living calves. +Another time, in the front of a battle, he was sorely +pressed, and nigh being beaten, but he waved the +flag again, and got the victory, and a great slaying +of his enemies." +</p> + +<p> +"Then the flag has not been waved for the +third and last time?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. At the time of the potato failure, when +the people were starving in their cabins, it was +thought that he should have waved it and stopped +the rot. But the flag stayed in its case. Macleod +can only wave it once now; and I'm sure he's +like a man with his last guinea in his pocket—he +does not like to spend it. But maybe, sir, you +would like to climb up to the flag-staff and see the +view." +</p> + +<p> +We then left the haunted chamber, passed through +the dismantled room in which the portraits hung, +and ascended the narrow spiral stair—the walls of +which, whether from sea damp, or from a +peculiarity of the lime used in building, were covered +with a glistering scurf of salt—and finally emerged +on the battlemented plateau from which the flagstaff +sprang. The huge mast had fallen a month or +two previously, and was now spliced with rope and +propped with billets of wood. A couple of days +before the catastrophe, a young fellow from +Cambridge, Malcolm told me, had climbed to the +top—lucky for the young fellow it did not fall then, +else he and Cambridge had parted company for +ever. From our airy perch the outlook was +wonderfully magnificent. From the breast of the hill +which shut out everything in one direction, there +rolled down on the castle billow on billow of +many-coloured foliage. The garden through which we +had passed an hour before was but a speck of +bright colour. The little toy village sent up its +pillars of smoke. There was the brown stony +beach, the boats, the ranges of nets, the sinuous +snake-like Loch, and the dark far-stretching +promontories asleep on the sleekness of summer sea. +With what loveliness of shining blue the sea flowed +in everywhere, carrying silence and the foreign-looking +bird into inland solitudes, girdling with its +glory the rock on which the chief's castle had stood +for ten centuries, and at the door of the shepherd's +shealing calling on the brown children with the +voices of many wavelets, to come down, and play +with them on crescents of yellow sand! +</p> + +<p> +Driving homeward I inquired, "Does the Laird +live here much?" "No, indeed," said Malcolm; +"he lives mainly in London." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Dunvegan. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +And thereupon I thought how pleasant it must +be for a man to escape from the hollow gusty +castle with its fairy flag which has yet to be waved +once, its dungeons, its haunted chambers, its large +gaunt rooms, with portraits of men and women +from whom he has drawn his blood, its traditions +of revenge and crime—and take up his abode +in some villa at breezy Hampstead, or classic +Twickenham, or even in some half-suburban residence +in the neighbourhood of Regent's Park. The +villa at Hampstead or Twickenham is neat and +trim, and when you enter on residence, you enter +without previous associations. It is probably +not so old as yourself. The walls and rooms are +strange, but you know that you and they will +become pleasantly acquainted by and by. Dark +family faces do not lower upon you out of the +past; the air of the room in which you sit is not +tainted with the smell of blood spilt hundreds of +years ago. You and your dwelling are not the +sole custodiers of dreadful secrets. The shadows +of the fire-light on the twilight walls do not take +shapes that daunt and affright. Your ancestors no +longer tyrannise over you. You escape from the +gloomy past, and live in the light and the voices +of to-day. You are yourself—you are no longer a +link in a blood-crusted chain. You enter upon the +enjoyment of your individuality, as you enter upon +the enjoyment of a newly-inherited estate. In +modern London you drink nepenthe, and Dunvegan +is forgotten. Were I the possessor of a +haunted, worm-eaten castle, around which strange +stories float, I should fly from it as I would from a +guilty conscience, and in the whirl of vivid life lose +all thoughts of my ancestors. I should appeal to +the present to protect me from the past. I should +go into Parliament and study blue-books, and +busy myself with the better regulation of alkali +works, and the drainage of Stoke Pogis. No +ancestor could touch me <i>then</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Donald Gorm. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"It's a strange old place, Dunvegan," said +Malcolm, as we drove down by the Fairy Bridge, +"and many strange things have happened in it. +Did you ever hear, sir, how Macdonald of +Sleat—Donald Gorm, or Blue Donald, as he was +called—stayed a night with Macleod of Dunvegan at a +time when there was feud between them?" +</p> + +<p> +"No: but I shall be glad to hear the story now." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," Malcolm went on, "on a stormy winter +evening, when the walls of Dunvegan were wet +with the rain of the cloud and the spray of the +sea, Macleod, before he sat down to dinner, went +out to have a look at the weather. 'A giant's +night is coming on, my men,' he said when he +came in, 'and if Macdonald of Sleat were at the +foot of my rock seeking a night's shelter, I don't +think I could refuse it.' He then sat down in the +torch-light at the top of the long table, with his +gentlemen around him. When they were half +through with their meal a man came in with the +news that the barge of Macdonald of Sleat—which +had been driven back by stress of weather on its +way to Harris—was at the foot of the rock, and +that Macdonald asked shelter for the night for +himself and his men. 'They are welcome,' said +Macleod; 'tell them to come in.' The man went +away, and in a short time Macdonald, his piper, +and his body guard of twelve, came in wet with +the spray and rain, and weary with rowing. Now on +the table there was a boar's head—which is always +an omen of evil to a Macdonald—and noticing the +dish, Donald Gorm with his men about him sat at +the foot of the long table, beneath the salt, and +away from Macleod and the gentlemen. Seeing +this, Macleod made a place beside himself, and +called out, 'Macdonald of Sleat, come and sit up +here!' 'Thank you,' said Donald Gorm, 'I'll +remain where I am; but remember that wherever +Macdonald of Sleat sits that's the head of the +table.' +<span class="sidenote"> +Donald Gorm's dirk. +</span> +So when dinner was over the gentlemen began +to talk about their exploits in hunting, and their +deeds in battle, and to show each other their dirks. +Macleod showed his, which was very handsome, and +it was passed down the long table from gentleman +to gentleman, each one admiring it and handing it +to the next, till at last it came to Macdonald, who +passed it on, saying nothing. Macleod noticed +this, and called out, 'Why don't you show your dirk, +Donald; I hear it's very fine?' Macdonald then +drew his dirk, and holding it up in his right hand, +called out, 'Here it is, Macleod of Dunvegan, and in +the best hand for pushing it home in the four and +twenty islands of the Hebrides.' Now Macleod +was a strong man, but Macdonald was a stronger, +and so Macleod could not call him a liar; but +thinking he would be mentioned next, he said, +'And where is the next best hand for pushing a +dirk home in the four and twenty islands?' '<i>Here</i>,', +cried Donald Gorm, holding up his dirk in his left +hand, and brandishing it in Macleod's face, who +sat amongst his gentlemen biting his lips with +vexation. So when it came to bed-time, Macleod +told Macdonald that he had prepared a chamber +for him near his own, and that he had placed +fresh heather in a barn for the piper and the body +guard of twelve. Macdonald thanked Macleod, +but remembering the boar's head on the table, +said he would go with his men, and that he preferred +for his couch the fresh heather to the down +of the swan. 'Please yourself, Macdonald of Sleat,' +said Macleod, as he turned on his heel. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Donald Gorm's threat. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"Now it so happened that one of the body guard +of twelve had a sweetheart in the castle, but he +had no opportunity of speaking to her. But once +when she was passing the table with a dish she +put her mouth to the man's ear and whispered, +'Bid your master beware of Macleod. The barn +you sleep in will be red flame at midnight and +ashes before the morning.' The words of the +sweetheart passed the man's ear like a little breeze, +but he kept the colour of his face, and looked as if +he had heard nothing. So when Macdonald and +his men got into the barn where the fresh heather +had been spread for them to sleep on, he told the +words which had been whispered in his ear. Donald +Gorm then saw the trick that was being played, +and led his men quietly out by the back door of +the barn, down to a hollow rock which stood +up against the wind, and there they sheltered +themselves. By midnight the sea was red with the +reflection of the burning barn, and morning broke +on gray ashes and smouldering embers. The +Macleods thought they had killed their enemies; but +fancy their astonishment when Donald Gorm with +his body guard of twelve marched past the castle +down to the foot of the rock, where his barge was +moored, with his piper playing in front—'Macleod, +Macleod, Macleod of Dunvegan, I drove my dirk +into your father's heart, and in payment of last +night's hospitality I'll drive it to the hilt in his +son's yet.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Macleod of Dunvegan must have been a great +rascal," said I; "and I hope he got his deserts." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, indeed," said Malcolm; "but if +Donald Gorm caught him he could hardly miss." He +then added, as if in deprecation of the idea that +any portion of ignominy was attachable to him, "I +am not one of the Dunvegan Macleods; I come +from the Macleods of Raasay." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h3> +<i>DUNTULM.</i> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +A rainy day. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The Landlord's house had been enveloped +for several days in misty rain. It did not +pour straight down, it did not patter on door and +window, it had no action as it has in the +south,—which made it all the more tormenting, for in +action there is always some sort of exhilaration; +in any case you have the notion that it will wear +itself out soon, that "it is too hot work to last +long, Hardy." An immense quantity of moisture +was held in the atmosphere, and it descended in a +soft, silent, imperceptible drizzle. It did not seem +so very bad when you looked out on it from the +window, but if you ventured on the gravel you +were wet to the skin in a trice. White damp +vapours lay low on the hills across the Loch; white +damp vapours lay on the rising grounds where +the sheep fed; white damp vapours hid the tops of +the larches which sheltered the house from the +south-west winds. Heaven was a wet blanket, +and everything felt its influence. During the +whole day Maida lay dreaming on the rug before +the fire. The melancholy parrot moped in its +cage, and at intervals—for the sake of variety +merely—attacked the lump of white sugar between +the wires, or suspended itself, head downwards, +and eyed you askance. The horses stamped and +pawed in their stables. The drenched peacock, +which but a few days before was never weary +displaying his starry tail, read one a lesson on the +instability of human glory. The desolate sea +lapping the weedy piers of Tyre; Napoleon at St +Helena, his innumerable armies, the thunders of +his cannon that made capitals pale, faded away, +perished utterly like a last year's dream, could not +have been more impressive. It sat on the garden +seat, a mere lump of draggled feathers, and as gray +as a hedge-sparrow. The Landlord shut himself up +in his own room, writing letters against the +departure of the Indian mail. We read novels, and +yawned, and made each other miserable with attempts +at conversation—and still the clouds hung +low on hill, and rising ground, and large plantation, +like surcharged sponges; and still the drizzle came +down mercilessly, noiselessly, until the world was +sodden, and was rapidly becoming sponge-like too. +On the fourth day we went upstairs, threw ourselves +on our beds dead beat, and fell asleep, till +we were roused by the gong for dinner. Thrusting +my face hurriedly into a basin of cold water, +tidying dishevelled locks, I got down when the +soup was being taken away, and was a good deal +laughed at. Somehow the spirits of the party +seemed lighter; the despotism of rain did not +weigh so heavily on them; I felt almost sportively +inclined myself; and just at the conclusion of +dessert, when wine had circulated once or twice, +there was a flush of rosy light on the panes. I +went at once to the window, and there was the sun +raying out great lances of splendour, and armies +of fiery mists lifting from the hills and streaming +upwards, glorious as seraph bands, or the +transfigured spirits of martyrdom. The westward-ebbing +loch was sleek gold, the wet trees twinkled, +every puddle was sun-gilt. I looked at the +barometer and saw the mercury rising like hope in a +man's breast when fortune smiles on him. The +curtains were drawn back to let the red light fully +into the room. "I like to see that fiery smoke on +the hills," said the Landlord, "it's always a sign of +fine weather setting in. Now it won't do for you +fellows to lie up here like beached boats doing +nothing. You must be off after tiffin to-morrow. +I'll give you letters of introduction, a dog-cart and +a man, and in a week or so come back and tell me +what you think of Duntulm and Quirang. You +must rough it you know. You mustn't be afraid +of a shower, or of getting your feet wetted in a +bog." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Departure from the Landlord's. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +And so next day after tiffin the Landlord sent us +off into the wilds, as a falconer might toss his hawk +into the air. +</p> + +<p> +The day was fine, the heat was tempered by a +pleasant breeze, great white clouds swam in the +blue void, and every now and again a shower came +racing across our path with a sunbeam at its heel. +We drove past the village, past the huts that +ran along the top of the cultivated hill-side, +dropped down on Skeabost, and the stream with +the island of graves, and in due time reached the +solitary school-house at the junction of the roads. +Turning to the left here, we drove along the east +shore of Loch Snizort, up stages of easy ascent, +and then, some four or five miles on, left the +Parliamentary Road and descended on Kingsburgh. +I pointed out to Fellowes the ruins of +the old house, spoke to him of the Prince, Flora +Macdonald, Dr Johnson, and Boswell. After +sauntering about there for a quarter of an hour, +we walked down to the present house with its +gables draped with ivies, and its pleasant doors +and windows scented with roses and honey-suckles. +To the gentleman who then occupied the farm we +bore a letter from the Landlord, but, on inquiring, +found that he had gone south on business a couple +of days previously. +<span class="sidenote"> +Kingsburgh. +</span> +This gentleman was a bachelor, +the house was tenanted by servants only, and of +course at Kingsburgh we could not remain. This +was a disappointment; and as we walked back to +the dog-cart, I told my companion of a pleasant +ten days I had wasted there three or four summers +since. I spoke to him of the Kingsburgh of that +time—the kindly generous Christian Highland +gentleman; of his open door and frank greeting, +warm and hospitable; of his Christianity, as open +and hospitable as his door; of the plenteous meats +and drinks, and the household pieties which ever +seemed to ask a blessing. I spoke of the pleasant +family, so numerous, so varied; the grandmother, +made prisoner to an easy-chair, yet never +fretful, never morose; who, on the lip of ninety, +wore the smile of twenty-five; who could look +up from her Bible—with which she was familiar +as with the way to her bedroom—to listen to +the news of the moment, and to feel interested +in it; who, with the light of the golden city in her +eyes, could listen and enter into a girl's trouble +about her white frock and her first dance. There +is nothing keeps so well as a good heart; nothing +which time sweetens so to the core. I spoke of +Kingsburgh himself, guileless, chivalrous, hospitable; +of his sisters, one a widow, one a spinster; of +his brave soldier nephew from India; of his pretty +nieces, with their English voices and their English +wild-rose bloom—who loved the heather and the +mist, and the blue Loch with the gulls sweeping +over it, but him most of all; of his sons, deep in the +Gorilla Book, and to whose stories, and the history +of whose adventures and exploits grandmamma's +ears were ever open. I spoke too of the guests that +came and went during my stay—the soldier, the +artist, the mysterious man, who, so far as any of us +knew, had neither name, occupation, nor country, +who was without parents and antecedents—who +was himself alone; of the games of croquet on the +sunny lawn, of the pic-nics and excursions, of the +books read in the cool twilight of the moss-house, +of the smoking parliament held in the stables on +rainy days, of the quiet cigar in the open air +before going to bed. 'Twas the pleasantest fortnight +I ever remember to have spent; and before I had +finished telling my companion all about it we had +taken our seats in the dog-cart, and were pretty +well advanced on the way to Uig. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +On the way to Uig. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Uig is distant from Kingsburgh about five miles; +the road is high above the sea, and as you drive +along you behold the northern headlands of Skye, +the wide blue Minch, and Harris, rising like a +cloud on the horizon; and if the day is fine, +you will enjoy the commerce of sea and sky, +the innumerable tints thrown by the clouds on +the watery mirror, the mat of glittering light +spread beneath the sun, the gray lines of showers +on the distant promontories, the tracks of air +currents on the mobile element between. The +clouds pass from shape to shape—what resembles +a dragon one moment resembles something else +the next; the promontory which was obscure ten +minutes ago is now yellow-green in sunlight; +the watery pavement is tesselated with hues, but +with hues that continually shift and change. In +the vast outlook there is utter silence, but no rest. +What with swimming vapour, passing Proteus-like +from form to form—obscure showers that run—vagrant +impulses of wind—sunbeams that gild +and die in gilding—the vast impressionable mimetic +floor outspread,—the sight you behold when you toil +up the steep road from Kingsburgh to Uig is full +of motion. There is no rest in nature, they say; +and the clouds are changing like opinions and +kingdoms, and the bodies and souls of men. +Matter is a stream that flows, a fire that burns. +By a cunninger chemistry than ours, the atoms +that composed the body of Adam could be +arrested somewhere yet. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The inn at Uig. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Just when you have reached the highest part of +the road you come in view of the Bay of Uig. You +are high above it as you drive or walk along, the +ground is equally high on the other side, and about +the distance of a mile inland, on a great sandy +beach, the tide is rolling in long white lines that +chase each other. On the deep water outside the +tidal lines a yacht is rocking; there is a mansion-house +with a flag-staff on the shore, and at the top +of the bay are several houses, a church, and a +school-house, built of comfortable stone and lime. +When the Minch is angry outside, washing the +headlands with spray, Uig is the refuge which the +fisherman and the coaster seek. When once they +have entered its rocky portals they are safe. The +road now descends towards the shore; there is +an inn midway, low-roofed, dimly-lighted, covered +with thatch—on the whole perhaps the most +unpromising edifice in the neighbourhood. Here we +pulled up. Already we had driven some twenty-five +miles, and as we wished to push on to Duntulm +that evening, we were anxious to procure a fresh +horse. The keen air had whetted our appetites, +and we were eager for dinner, or what substitute +for dinner could be provided. Our driver +unharnessed the horse, and we entered a little +room, spotlessly clean, however, and knocked with +our knuckles on the deal table. When the +red-haired handmaiden entered, we discovered that +the Uig bill of fare consisted of bread and butter, +cheese, whisky, milk, and hard-boiled eggs—and a +very satisfactory bill of fare we considered it too. +There is no such condiment as hunger honourably +earned by exercise in the open air. When the +viands were placed before us we attacked them +manfully. The bread and butter disappeared, the +hard-boiled eggs disappeared, we flinched not +before the slices of goats'-milk cheese; then we made +equal division of the whisky, poured it into bowls +of milk, and drank with relish. While in the +middle of the feast the landlord entered—he wore +the kilt, the only person almost whom I had seen +wearing it in my sojourn in the island—to make +arrangements relative to the fresh horse. He +admitted that he possessed an animal, but as he +possessed a gig and eke a driver, it was his opinion +that the three should go together. To this we +objected, stating that as we already had a vehicle +and a driver, and as they were in no wise tired, +such a change as he suggested would be needless. +We told him also that we meant to remain at +Duntulm for one night only, and that by noon of +the following day we would be back at his +hostelry with his horse. The landlord seemed +somewhat moved by our representations, and just when +victory was hanging in the balance the brilliant +idea struck my companion that he should be bribed +with his own whisky. At the rap on the deal +table the red-haired wench appeared, the order +was given, and in a trice a jorum of mountain dew +was produced. This decided matters, the landlord +laid down the arms of argument, and after we +had solemnly drunk each other's health he went +out for the fresh horse, and in a quarter of an hour +we were all right, and slowly descending the steep +hill-road to Uig. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The road to Duntulm. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +We drove through the village, where a good deal +of building seemed going on, and then began to +climb the hill-road that rose beyond it. Along the +hill-side this road zig-zagged in such a curious +manner, ran in such terraces and parallel lines, that +the dog-cart immediately beneath you, and into +which you could almost chuck a biscuit—the one +machine heading east the other west—would take +ten minutes before it reached the point to which +you had obtained. At last we reached the top of +the wavy ascent, passed through a mile or two of +moory wilderness, in which we met a long string of +women bringing home creels of peats, and then in +the early sunset descended the long hill-side which +led to Kilmuir. Driving along we had Mugstot +pointed out to us—a plain white dwelling on our +left in which Macdonald lived after he had vacated +Duntulm, and while Armadale was yet building. +About this place, too, the Parliamentary Road +stopped. No longer could we drive along smoothly +as on an English turnpike. The pathway now was +narrow and stony, and the dog-cart bumped and +jolted in a most distressing manner. During the +last hour, too, the scenery had changed its character. +We were no longer descending a hill-side on +which the afternoon sun shone pleasantly. Our +path still lay along the sea, but above us were high +cliffs with great boulders lying at their feet; +beneath us, and sloping down to the sea level, boulders +lay piled on each other, and against these the +making tide seethed and fretted. The sun was +setting on the Minch, and the irregular purple outline +of Harris was distinctly visible on the horizon. +For some time back we had seen no house, nor had +our path been crossed by a single human being. +The solitariness and desolation of the scenery +affected one. Everything around was unfamiliar and +portentous. The road on which we drove was like +a road in the "Faery Queen," along which a knight, +the sunset dancing on his armour, might prick in +search of perilous adventure. The chin of the sun +now rested on the Minch, the overhanging cliffs +were rosy, and the rocky road began to seem +interminable. At last there was a sudden turn, and +there, on a little promontory, with shattered wall +and loophole against the red light, stood Duntulm—the +castle of all others that I most wished to see. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +A hospitable reception. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Going down the rocky road, the uncomfortable +idea crept into our minds that Duntulm, to +whom we bore a letter of introduction from the +Landlord, might—like the owner of Kingsburgh—have +gone to the south on business. We could +hardly have returned to Uig that night, and +this thought made yet more rigid the wall of rosy +cliff above us, and yet more dreary the seethe of +the Minch amongst the broken boulders beneath. +As suspense was worse than certainty, we urged on +the Uig horse, and in a short time, with the broken +castle behind us, drew up at the house. Duntulm +had seen us coming, and when we alighted he +was at the door, his face hospitable as a fire in +winter time, and his outstretched hand the best +evidence of good wishes. In a moment the bald +red cliffs and the homeless seething of the Minch +among the broken stones faded out of my memory. +We mentioned our names, and proffered the letter +of introduction. "There is no need," said he, as +he thrust the epistle into his pocket, "civility +before ceremony. Having come you are of course +my guests. Come in. The letter will tell me +who you are soon enough." And so we were carried +into the little parlour till our bedrooms were +got ready, and then we went up-stairs, washed our +hands and faces, changed our clothes, and came +down for tea. When we entered the parlour, the +tea-urn was hissing on the table, and with our host +sat a photographer—bearded as all artists at the +present day are—who had been engaged during +the afternoon on Flora Macdonald's grave. +</p> + +<p> +When tea was over we were carried into another +room where were materials placed for the +brewing of punch. Through the window I beheld +spectral castle, the sea on which the light was +dying, the purple fringe of Harris on the horizon. +And seated there, in the remotest corner of Skye, +amongst people whom I had never before seen, +girt by walls of cliffs and the sounding sea, in a +region, too, in which there was no proper night, I +confess to have been conscious of a pleasant +feeling of strangeness, of removal from all customary +conditions of thought and locality, which I like at +times to recall and enjoy over again. Into this +feeling the strange country through which I had +that day driven, the strange room in which I sat, +the strange faces surrounding me, the strange talk, +all entered; yet I am almost certain that it was +heightened to no inconsiderable extent by the +peculiar spirit bottle on the table. This bottle +was pale green in colour, was composed of two +hollow hemispheres like a sand-glass, the mouthpiece +surmounting the upper hemisphere of course; +and from the upper hemisphere to the lower sprang +four hollow arms, through which the liquor coursed, +giving the bottle a curiously square appearance. I +had never seen such a bottle before, and I suppose +till I go back to Duntulm I am not likely to see +its like. Its shape was peculiar, and that peculiarity +dove-tailed into the peculiarity of everything +else. We sat there till the light had died out on +the sea, and the cloud had come down on Harris, +and then the candles were brought in. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Donald Gorm. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +But the broken tower of Duntulm still abode in +my memory, and I began to make inquiries +concerning it. I was told that it was long the seat of +the Macdonalds, but that after the family had +been driven out of it by the ghost of Donald Gorm, +they removed to Mugstot. "Donald Gorm!" I +said; "were they driven out by the restless spirit +of the Donald who flouted Macleod at his own +table at Dunvegan—who, when he was asked to +show his dirk, held it up in the torch-light in the +face of Macleod and of his gentlemen, with the +exclamation, 'Here it is, Macleod of Dunvegan, +and in the best hand for pushing it home in the +four and twenty islands of the Hebrides?'" "They +were driven away by the spirit of the same Donald," +said our host. "That chieftain had been stricken +by a lingering yet mortal illness, and removed to +Edinburgh, and placed himself under the care of +the leeches there. His body lay on a sick-bed in +Edinburgh, but his spirit roamed about the +passages and galleries of the castle. The people +heard the noises, and the slamming of doors, and +the waving of tartans on the staircases, and did not +know that it was the spirit of their sick master +that troubled them. It was found out, however. +The servants were frightened out of their wits by +the unearthly voices, and the sounds of weeping, +the waving of shadowy tartans, and the wringing +of shadowy hands, and declared that they +would no longer abide in the castle. At last a +young man, from Kilmuir over there, said that if +they would provide him with a sword and a Bible, +and plenty to eat and drink, he would sit up in the +hall all night and speak to the apparition. His +offer was accepted, and he sat down to supper in +the great hall with his sword drawn and his Bible +open on the table before him. At midnight he +heard doors open and close, and the sound of +footsteps on the stairs, and before he knew where he +was there was Donald Gorm, dressed in tartan as if +for feast or battle, standing on the floor and looking +at him. 'What do you want with me, Donald?' +said the young man. 'I was in Edinburgh last +night,' said the spirit, 'and I am in my own castle +to-night. Don't be afraid, man; there is more +force in the little pebble which you chuck away +from you with your finger and thumb than there +is in my entire body of strength. Tell Donald +Gorm Og—("Donald's son, you know," interpolated +the photographer)—tell Donald Gorm Og to +stand up for the right against might, to be generous +to the multitude, to have a charitable hand +stretched out to the poor. Woe's me! woe's me! I +have spoken to a mortal, and must leave the castle +to-night,' and so the ghost of Donald vanished, and +the young man was left sitting in the hall alone. +Donald died in Edinburgh and was buried there; +but after his death, as during his life, his spirit +walked about here until the family was compelled +to leave. It was a fine place once, but it has been +crumbling away year by year, and is now broken +and hollow like a witch's tooth. The story I have +told you is devoutly believed by all the fishermen, +herdsmen, and milkmaids in the neighbourhood. I +think Mr Maciver, the clergyman at Kilmuir, is the +only person in the neighbourhood who has no faith +in it." This ghost story the photographer capped +by another, and when that was finished we went +to bed. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Flora Macdonald's grave. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Next morning we went out to inspect the old +castle, and found it a mere shell. Compared with +its appearance the night before, when it stood in +relief against the red sky, it was strangely +unimpressive; a fragment of a tower and a portion of +flanking wall stood erect; there were traces of +building down on the slope near the sea, but all the +rest was a mere rubble of fallen masonry. It had +been despoiled in every way; the elements had +worn and battered it, the people of the district had +for years back made it a quarry, and built out of it +dwellings, out-houses, and dikes—making the past +serve the purposes of the present. Sheep destined +for the London market were cropping the herbage +around its base—suggesting curious comparisons, +and bringing into keener contrast antiquity and +to-day. While we were loitering about the ruins +the photographer came up, and under his guidance +we went to visit Kilmuir churchyard, in which +Flora Macdonald rests. We went along the stony +road down which we had driven the night +previously—the cliffs lately so rosy, gray enough now, +and the seethe of the fresh sea amongst the boulders +and shingle beneath rather exhilarating than +otherwise. After a walk of about a couple of miles +we left the road, climbed up a grassy ascent, and +found the churchyard there, enclosed by a low +stone wall. Everything was in hideous +disrepair. The gate was open, the tomb-stones were +broken and defaced, and above the grave of the +heroine nettles were growing more luxuriously +than any crop I had yet had the good fortune to +behold in the island. Skye has only one historical +grave to dress—and she leaves it so. On expressing +our surprise to the photographer, he told us +that a London sculptor passing that way, and +whose heart burned within him at the sight, had +offered at several dinner-tables in the district to +execute a bronze medallion of the famous lady, +gratis, provided his guests would undertake to have +it properly placed, and to a have fitting inscription +carved upon the pedestal. "The proposal was +made, I know," said the photographer, "for the +sculptor told me about it himself. His proposal +has not been taken up, nor is it likely to be taken +up now. The country which treats the grave of a +heroine after that fashion is not worthy to have +a heroine. Still,"—he went eyeing the place +critically, with his head a little to one side—"it +makes a picturesque photograph as it stands—perhaps +better than if it were neat and tidy." We +plucked a nettle from the grave and then returned +to Duntulm to breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Quirang. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after breakfast our dog-cart was at the +door, and followed by Duntulm and the photographer +in a similar machine, we were on our way +to Quirang. A drive of a couple of hours brought +us to the base of the singular mountain. Tilting +our vehicles, leaving the horses to roam about +picking the short grass, and carrying with us +materials for luncheon on the crest, we began the +ascent. The day was fine, the sky cloudless, and +in an hour we were toiling past the rocky spire of +the needle, and in fifteen minutes thereafter, we +reached the flat green plateau on the top. Here +we lunched and sang songs, and made mock heroic +speeches in proposing each other's health. I had +ascended the Quirang before in rain, and wind, and +vapour, and could hardly recognise it now under +the different atmospherical conditions. Then every +stone was slippery, every runnel a torrent, the top of +the needle lost in the flying mist, everything looking +spectral, weird, and abnormal. On the present +occasion, we saw it in fair sunlight; and what the +basalt columns, the shattered precipices, the projecting +spiry rocks lost in terror they gained in beauty. +Reclining on the soft green grass—strange to find +grass so girdled by fantastic crags—we had, through +fissures and the rents of ancient earthquake, the +loveliest peeps of the map-like under world swathed +in faint sea azure. An hour, perhaps, we lay there; +and then began the long descent. When we reached +the dog-carts we exchanged a parting cup, and +then Duntulm and the photographer returned +home, and we hied on to Uig. +</p> + +<p> +Arriving at Uig we dined—the bill of fare identical +with that on the preceding day; the hard-boiled +eggs, only a shade harder boiled perhaps; +and then having settled with the kilted landlord—the +charge wondrously moderate—we got out our +own horse, and with the setting sun making splendid +the Minch behind us, we started for Portree. It +was eleven P.M. before we reached the little town, +the moon was shining clearly, a stray candle or two +twinkling in the houses, and when we reached +the hotel door the building was lighted up—it had +been a fair day, the prices for cattle were good, +and over whisky punch farmer and drover were +fraternising. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, in the soft sky was the wild +outline of the Cuchullins, with which we were +again to make acquaintance. Somehow these +hills never weary, you never become familiar +with them, intimacy can no more stale them than +it could the beauty of Cleopatra. From the hotel +door I regarded them with as much interest as when, +from the deck of the steamer off Ardnamurchan ten +years ago, I first beheld them with their clouds on +the horizon. While at breakfast in the public room, +farmer and drover dropped in—the more fiery-throated +drinking pale ale instead of tea. After +breakfast we were again in the dog-cart driving +leisurely toward Sligachan—the wonderful +mountains beyond gradually losing tenderness of +morning hue and growing worn and hoary, standing with +sharper edges against the light, becoming rough +with rocky knob and buttress, and grayly wrinkled +with ravines. When we reached the inn we found +it full of company, bells continually jangling, half +a dozen machines at the door, and a party of +gentlemen in knickerbockers starting with rods +and fishing-baskets. Here we returned the +dog-cart to the landlord, and began to address +ourselves to the desolate glen stretching between the +inn and Camasunary. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Glen Sligachan. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +In Glen Sligachan, although you lose sight of +the Cuchullins proper, you are surrounded by +their outlying and far-radiating spurs. The glen is +some eight miles in length, and is wild and desolate +beyond conception. Walking along, too, the +reticulations of the hills are picked out with that pale +greenish tint, which I had noted as characteristic +of the hills seen from Lord Macdonald's deer +forest, and which gives one the idea of the overflow +of chemical fluids, of metallic corrosions and +discolorations. There is no proper path, and you +walk in the loose debris of torrents; and in Glen +Sligachan, as in many other parts of Skye, the +scenery curiously repels you, and drives you in on +yourself. You have a quickened sense of your own +individuality. The enormous bulks, their gradual +recedings to invisible crests, their utter +movelessness, their austere silence, daunt you. You are +conscious of their presence, and you hardly care +to speak lest you be overheard. You can't laugh. +You would not crack a joke for the world. Glen +Sligachan would be the place to do a little bit +of self-examination in. There you would have a +sense of your own meannesses, selfishnesses, paltry +evasions of truth and duty, and find out what +a shabby fellow you at heart are—and looking +up to your silent father-confessors, you would find +no mercy in their grim faces. I do not know what +effect mountains have on the people who live +habitually amongst them, but the stranger they +make serious and grave at heart. Through this +glen we trudged silently enough, and when +two-thirds of the distance had been accomplished, it +was with a feeling of relief that a lake was descried +ahead. The sight of anything mobile, of an element +that could glitter and dimple and dance, +took away from the sense of the stony eternities, +gray and wrinkled as with the traces of long-forgotten +passion, listening for ever, dumb for ever. +After rounding the lake, which plashed merrily on +its margin, and clambering over a long waste of +boulder, we saw as we ascended a low flank of +Blaavin, the Bay of Camasunary, the house, and +the very boat which M'Ian had borrowed on the +day we went to visit Loch Coruisk, below us. The +tobacco-less man was nowhere visible, and I +marvelled whether his messenger had yet returned +from Broadford. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Kilmaree. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +When we got to the top of the hill we had to +descend the slope to Kilmaree; and as on my +return from Loch Coruisk I had come down +pleasantly under the guidance of M'Ian, I fancied, +naturally enough, that I could act as guide on the +present occasion. But there is a knack in +descending hills as there is in everything else. First +of all, I lost the narrow footpath at the top; then +as we were bound to reach Loch Eishart, and as +Loch Eishart lay below us distinctly visible, I led +directly for it; but somehow we were getting continually +on the wrong bank of a pestilent stream, which, +through chasm and ravine, found its way to the +sea by apparently the most circuitous of courses. +This stream we forded a dozen times at the least, +and sometimes in imminent danger of a ducking. +It was now late in the afternoon, and the weather +had changed. The tops of the hills began to be +lost in mist, and long lines of sea fog to creep +along the lower grounds. There was at intervals +a slow drizzle of rain. Fetching a cunning circuit, +as I supposed, we found the inevitable stream +again in our front, and got across it +with difficulty—happily for the last time. After we had +proceeded about a hundred yards we came upon the +lost pathway, and in fifteen minutes thereafter we +were standing upon the shore of the Loch watching +the flying scud of Atlantic mist, and the +green waves rolling underneath with their white +caps on. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The wood-choppers. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The question now arose—By what means could +we reach Mr M'Ian? There was no ferry at +Kilmaree, but sundry boats were drawn up on the +shore, and a couple were bobbing on the restless +water at the stony pier. There were the boats +certainly enough, but where were the boatmen? In +the neighbourhood men could surely be obtained +who, for a consideration, would take us across. We +directed our steps to the lodge at Kilmaree, which +seemed untenanted, and after some little trouble +penetrated into the region of the offices and +outhouses. Here we found a couple of men +chopping sticks, and to them my companion—who +as a man of business and learned in the law was +the spokesman on such occasions—addressed +himself. "You want to go over to Mr M'Ian's +to-night?" said the elder, desisting from his task, and +standing up with his axe in his hand. "Yes, we +are particularly anxious to get across. Can you +take us?" "I don't know; you see we are no +ferrymen, an' if we take you across we must leave +our work." "Of course you must; but we'll pay +you for your trouble." Here the two men +exchanged a sentence or two of Gaelic, and then +the elder wood-chopper asked, "Do you know Mr +M'Ian?" "Oh, yes, we know him very well." "Does +he expect you this night?" "No; but we +are anxious to see him, and he will be glad to +see us." "I'm no sure we can take you across," +said the man hesitatingly; "you see the master is +from home, an' the wind is rising, an' we're no +ferrymen, an' we'll need to borrow a boat, an'"—here +he hesitated still more—"it would cost you +something." "Of course it will. What will you +expect." "Wad you think ten shillings too much?" "No, +we'll give you ten shillings," said Fellowes, +clinching the bargain. "And," said I, coming in +like a swift charge of lancers on a half-disorganised +battalion, and making victory complete, "we'll give +you a glass of spirits at the house, too, when you get +across." The men then threw down their axes, put +on their jackets, which hung on nails on the walls, +and talking busily in Gaelic, led the way to the +little stony pier where the boats were moored. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +On Loch Eishart. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"There's a gale rising," said one of the men, +as he pulled in a boat to the pier by a rope, +"an' it'll no be easy taking you across, and still +harder to get back ourselves." As, however, to +this expression of opinion we made no response, +the men busied themselves with getting the boat +to rights, testing the rollock pins, rolling in stones +for ballast, examining the sail and ropes, and such +like matters. In a short time we took our seats, +and then the men pulled slowly out to sea in the +opposite direction from Mr M'Ian's house, in order +to catch the wind, which was blowing freshly inland. +The course of the boat was then changed, the oars +shipped, the sail shaken out, and away we went +through the green seas with long lurches, the foam +gathering up high at the bows, hissing along the +sides, and forming a long white wake behind. The +elder man sat with the rope of the sail in his hand, +and taking a shrewd squint at the weather at +intervals. When not so engaged, he was disposed +to be talkative. "He's a fine gentleman, Mr +M'Ian, a vera fine gentleman; an' vera good to +the poor." "I understand," I said, "that he is +the most generous of mankind." "He is that; he +never lets a poor man go past his door without a +meal. Maybe, sir, ye'll be a friend o' his?" "Yes, +both of us are friends of his, and friends of his son's +too." "Maybe ye'll be a relation of his?—he has +many relations in the south country." "No," I +said, "no relation, only a friend. Do you +smoke?" "Oh, yes, but I have forgot my spleuchan." "I +can provide you with tobacco," I said, and so when +his pipe was lighted he became silent. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Mr M'Ian and the boatmen. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +We were now two-thirds across, and the white +watery mists hung low on the familiar coast as we +approached. Gradually the well-known objects +became defined in the evening light—the clumps +of birch-wood, the huts seated on the shore, the +house, the cliffs behind on which the clouds lay +half-way down. When we drew near the stony +quay we noticed that we were the subjects of +considerable speculation. It was but seldom that a +boat stood across from the Strathaird coast, and +by our glass we could see a group of the men-servants +standing at the corner of the black kitchen +watching our movements, and Mr M'Ian himself +coming out with his telescope. When the keel +grated on the pebbles we got out. "Now, my +men," said Fellowes, "come up to the house and +have your promised glass of spirits!" To our +astonishment the men declined; they could not +wait, they were going back immediately. "But you +must come," said my companion, who acted as +purser, "for before I can pay you I must get Mr +M'Ian to change me a sovereign. Come along." We +climbed up to the house, and were welcomed +by Mr M'Ian, father and son, in the ivy-covered +porch. "By the way," said Fellowes, "I wish you +to change me a sovereign, as we have ten shillings to +pay these men." "Did the scoundrels charge that +sum for bringing you over? It's extortion; five +shillings is quite enough. Let me go and speak to +them." "But," remonstrated Fellowes, "we don't +consider the charge immoderate: we made the +bargain with them: and so anxious were we to +be here that we would willingly have paid them +double." "Don't talk to me," cried M'Ian, as he +put on his hat and seized his stick. "Why, you +rascals, did you charge these gentlemen ten +shillings for taking them across the Loch? You know +you are well enough paid if you get half." "Sir," +said the elder man respectfully, while both touched +their bonnets, "we'll just take what you please; +just anything you like, Mr M'Ian." "Don't you +see the mischief you do and the discredit you +bring on the country by this kind of thing? Every +summer the big lying blackguard <i>Times</i> is crammed +with complaints of tourists who have been cheated +by you and the like of you—although I don't believe +half the stories. These fools"—here the old +gentleman made reference to us by a rapid backward +chuck of his thumb—"may go home to the south +and write to the newspapers about you." "The +bargain the gentlemen made was ten shillings," +said the man, "but if you think we have asked +too much we'll take six. But it's for your sake +we'll take it, not for theirs." "They're honest +fellows these," cried the old gentleman, as he +poured the coins into the palm of the elder man; +"Alick, bring them out a dram." The dram, +prefaced by a word or two of Gaelic, to which Mr +M'Ian nodded, was duly swallowed, and the +men, touching their bonnets, descended to their +boat. The old gentleman led the way into the +house, and we had no sooner reached the porch +than my companion remembered that he had left +something, and ran down to fetch it. He returned +in a little while, and in the course of the evening +he gave me to understand that he had seen the +boatmen, and fully implemented his promise. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Lamb-branding. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The wind had changed during the night, and +next morning broke forth gloriously—not a speck +of vapour on the Cuchullins; the long stretch of +Strathaird wonderfully distinct; the Loch bright in +sunlight. When we got down to breakfast we found +Mr M'Ian alone. His son, he said, had been on +the hill since four o'clock in the morning gathering +the lambs together, and that about noon he and +his assistants would be branding them at the fank. +When breakfast was over,—Fellowes, having letters +to write, remained in-doors,—I and the old +gentleman went out. We went up the glen, and as we +drew near the fank we saw a number of men standing +about, their plaids thrown on the turfen walls, +with sheep-dogs couched thereupon; a thick +column of peat-smoke rising up, smelt easily at +the distance of half a mile; no sheep were visible, +but the air was filled with bleatings,—undulating +with the clear plaintive trebles of innumerable +ewes, and the hoarser <i>baa</i> of tups. When we +arrived we found the narrow chambers and +compartments at one end of the fank crowded with +lambs, so closely wedged together that they +could hardly move, and between these chambers +and compartments temporary barriers erected, so +that no animal could pass from one to the other. +The shepherds must have had severe work of it +that morning. It was as yet only eleven o'clock, +and since early dawn they and their dogs had +coursed over an area of ten miles, sweeping every +hill face, visiting every glen, and driving down rills +of sheep toward this central spot. Having got the +animals down, the business of assortment began. +The most perfect ewes—destined to be the mothers +of the next brood of lambs on the farm—were +placed in one chamber; the second best, whose fate +it was to be sold at Inverness, were placed in a +congeries of compartments, the one opening into the +other; the inferior qualities—<i>shots</i>, as they are +technically called—occupied a place by themselves: +these also to be sold at Inverness, but at lower +prices than the others. The fank is a large square +enclosure; the compartments into which the bleating +flocks were huddled occupied about one half +of the walled-in space, the remainder being +perfectly vacant. One of the compartments opened +into this space, but a temporary barrier +prevented all egress. Just at the mouth of this +barrier we could see the white ashes and the +dull orange glow of the peat-fire in which some +half-dozen branding irons were heating. When +everything was prepared two or three men entered +into this open space. One took his seat on a large +smooth stone by the side of the peat-fire, a second +vaulted into the struggling mass of heads and +fleeces, a third opened the barrier slightly, lugged +out a struggling lamb by the horns, and consigned +it to the care of the man seated on the smooth +stone. This worthy got the animal dexterously +between his legs, so that it was unable to +struggle, laid its head down on his thigh, seized +from the orange glow of the smouldering peat-fire +one of the red-hot heating irons, and with +a hiss, and a slight curl of smoke, drew it in +a diagonal direction across its nose. Before the +animal was sufficiently branded the iron had +to be applied twice or thrice. It was then +released, and trotted bleating into the open space, +perhaps making a curious bound on the way +as if in bravado, or shaking its head hurriedly as +if snuff had been thrown into its eyes. All day +this branding goes on. The peat-fire is replenished +when needed; another man takes his seat on the +smooth stone; by two o'clock a string of women +bring up dinner from the house, and all the while, +young M'Ian sits on the turfen wall, note-book in +hand, setting down the number of the lambs and +their respective qualities. Every farmer has his own +peculiar brand, and by it he can identify a member +of his stock if it should go astray. The brand is to +the farmer what a trade mark is to a manufacturer. +These brands are familiar to the drovers even as the +brands of wine and cigars are familiar to the connoisseurs +in these articles. The operation looks a cruel +one, but it is not perfectly clear that the sheep suffer +much under it. While under the iron they are +perfectly quiet,—they neither bleat nor struggle, and +when they get off they make no sign of discomfort +save the high bound or the restless shake of the head +already mentioned—if indeed these are signs of +discomfort—a conclusion which no sheep farmer will +in anywise allow. In a minute or so they are cropping +herbage in the open space of the fank, or if the +day is warm, lying down in the cool shadows of the +walls as composedly as if nothing had happened. +</p> + +<p> +Leaning against the fank walls we looked on for +about an hour, by which time a couple of hundred +lambs had been branded, and then we went up the +glen to inspect a mare and foal of which Mr M'Ian +was specially proud. Returning in the direction of +the house, the old gentleman pointed out what +trenching had been done, what walls had been +built in my absence, and showed me on the other +side of the stream what brushwood he meant to +clear next spring for potatoes, what fields he would +give to the people for their crops, what fields he +would reserve for his own use. Flowing on in this +way with scheme and petty detail of farm work, he +suddenly turned round on me with a queer look in +his face. "Isn't it odd that a fellow like me, +standing on the brink of the grave, should go pottering +about day after day thinking of turnips and oats, +tups and ewes, cows and foals? The chances are +that the oats I sow I shall never live to reap—that +I shall be gone before the blossom comes on my +potatoes." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Mr M'Ian on death. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The strangeness of it had often struck me before, +but I said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose it is best that I should take an +interest in these things," went on the old gentleman. +"Death is so near me that I can hear him as if it +were through a crazy partition. I know he is there. +I can hear him moving about continually. My +interest in the farm is the partition that divides us. +If it were away I should be with him face to face." +</p> + +<p> +Mr M'Ian was perhaps the oldest man in the +island, and he did not dislike talking about his +advanced age. A man at fifty-five, perhaps, wishes +to be considered younger than he really is. The +man above ninety has outlived that vanity. He is +usually as proud of the years he has numbered as +the commander of the battles he has won, or the +millionaire of the wealth he has acquired. In respect +of his great age, such a one is singular amongst his +fellows. After a little pause Mr M'Ian flowed on: +</p> + +<p> +"I remember very well the night the century +came in. My regiment was then lying in the +town of Galway in Ireland. We were all at supper +that evening at the quarters of Major M'Manus, +our commanding officer. Very merry we were, +singing songs and toasting the belles we knew. +Well, when twelve o'clock struck the major rose +and proposed in a flowing bowl the health of the +stranger—the nineteenth century—coupled with +the hope that it would be a better century than +the other. I'm not sure that it has been a whit +better, so far at least as it has gone. For thirty +years I have been the sole survivor of that merry +table." +</p> + +<p> +"Sixty-five years is a long time to look back, +Mr M'Ian." +</p> + +<p> +The old gentleman walked on laughing to himself. +"What fools men are—doctors especially! +I was very ill shortly after with a liver complaint, +and was sent to Edinburgh to consult the great +doctors and professors there. They told me I was +dying; that I had not many months to live. The +fools! they are dead, their sons are dead, and +here I am, able to go about yet. I suppose they +thought that I would take their stuffs." +</p> + +<p> +By this time we had reached the house. Mr +M'Ian left his white hat and staff in the porch: he +then went to the cupboard and took out a small +spirit case in which he kept bitters cunningly +compounded. He gave Fellowes and myself—Fellowes +had finished his letters by this time—a tiny +glassful, took the same amount himself. We then +all went out and sat down on a rocky knoll +near the house which looked seaward, and talked +about Sir John Moore and Wellington till dinner +time. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Departure from Mr M'Ian's. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +We stayed with the M'Ians for a couple of days, +and on the third we drove over to Ardvasar to +catch the steamer there that afternoon on its way +to Portree. +</p> + +<p> +As we drove slowly up the glen, my companion +said, "That old gentleman is to my mind worth +Blaavin, Coruisk, Glen Sligachan, and all the rest +of it. In his own way he is just as picturesque +and strange as they are. When he goes, the island +will have lost one of its peculiar charms." +</p> + +<p> +"He is a thorough Islesman," said I; "and for +him Blaavin forms as appropriate a background as +the desert for the Arab, or the prairie for the +Pawnee Indian. When he dies it will be like the +dying of the last eagle. He is about the end of the +old stock. The younger generation of Skyemen +will never be like their fathers. They have more +general information than their elders, they have +fewer prejudices, they are more amenable to advice, +much less stubborn and self-willed—but they are +by comparison characterless. In a few years, when +they will have the island in their own hands, better +sheep will be produced I have no doubt, finer +qualities of wool will be sent south, grand hotels +will be erected here and there—but for all that +Skye will have become tame: it will have lost +that unpurchaseable something—human character; +and will resemble Blaavin shorn of its mist-wreaths." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Armadale Castle. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +When we reached the top of the glen, and +dropped down on the Parliamentary Road near the +lake of water lilies, we held our way to the right, +toward the point of Sleat. We passed the farm +of Knock, the white outhouses, the church and +school-house, the old castle on the shore, and +driving along, we could pleasantly depasture our eyes +on the cultivated ground, with a picturesque hut +perched here and there; the towering masses of the +Knoydart hills and the Sound of Sleat between. +Sleat is the best wooded, the sunniest, and most +carefully cultivated portion of the island; and +passing along the road the traveller is struck with +signs of blithe industry and contentment. As you +draw near Armadale Castle you can hardly believe +that you are in Skye at all. The hedges are as +trim as English hedges, the larch plantations which +cover the faces of the low hills that look towards +the sea are not to be surpassed by any larch +plantations in the country. The Armadale home farm +is a model of neatness, the Armadale porter-lodges +are neat and white; and when, through openings +of really noble trees, you obtain a glimpse of the +castle itself, a handsome modern-looking building +rising from sweeps of closely-shaven lawn, you find +it hard to believe that you are within a few miles +of the moory desolation that stretches between +Isle Oronsay and Broadford. Great lords and +great seats, independent of the food they provide +the imagination, are of the highest practical uses +to a country. From far Duntulm Macdonald has +come here and settled, and around him to their +very tops the stony hills laugh in green. Great +is the power of gold. Drop a sovereign into the +hat of the mendicant seated by the wayside and +into his face you bring a pleasant light. Bestow +on land what gold can purchase, Labour, and of the +stoniest aridity you make an emerald. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Waiting the steamer. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Ardvasar is situated about the distance of a mile +from the Armadale plantations, and counts perhaps +some twenty houses. A plain inn stands by +the wayside, where refreshments may be procured; +there is a merchant's shop filled with goods of the +most miscellaneous description; in this little place +also resides a most important personage—the agent +of the Messrs Hutcheson, who is learned in the +comings and goings of the steamers. On our +arrival we learned from the agent that the steamer +on the present occasion would be unusually late, +as she had not yet been sighted between +Ardnamurchan and Eig. In all probability she would +not be off Ardvasar till ten P.M. It is difficult to +kill time anywhere; but at this little Skye clachan +it is more difficult than almost anywhere else. We +fed the horse, and returned it and the dog-cart to +Mr M'Ian. We sat in the inn and looked aimlessly +out of the window; we walked along the ravine, +and saw the stream sleeping in brown pools, +and then hurrying on in tiny waterfalls; we +watched the young barbarians at play in the wide +green in front of the houses; we lounged in the +merchant's shop; we climbed to the top of +eminences and looked seaward, and imagined fondly +that we beheld a streak of steamer smoke on the +horizon. The afternoon wore away, and then we +had tea at the inn. By this the steamer had been +visible for some little time, and had gone in to Eig. +After tea we carried our traps down to the stony +pier and placed them in the boat which would +convey us to the steamer when she lay to in the bay. +Thereafter we spent an hour in watching men +blasting a huge rock in a quarry close at hand. +We saw the train laid and lighted, the men scuttling +off, and then there was a dull report, and the +huge rock tumbled quietly over in ruins. When we +got back to the pier, passengers were gathering: +drovers with their dogs—ancient women in scarlet +plaids and white caps, going on to Balmacara or +Kyle—a sailor, fresh from China, dressed in his +best clothes, with a slate-coloured parrot in a wicker +cage, which he was conveying to some young +people at Broadford. On the stony pier we +waited for a considerable time, and then Mr +Hutcheson's agent, accompanied by some half dozen +men, came down in a hurry; into the boat we were +all bundled, drovers, dogs, ancient women, sailor, +parrot, and all, the boat shoved off, the agent stood +up in the bow, the men bent to their oars, and by +the time we were twenty boat-lengths from the +pier the <i>Clansman</i> had slid into the bay opposite +the castle and lay to, letting off volumes of noisy +steam. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Clansman. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +When the summer night was closing the <i>Clansman</i> +steamed out of Armadale Bay. Two or three +ladies were yet visible on the deck. Wrapped in +their plaids, and with their dogs around them, +drovers were smoking amidships; sportsmen in +knickerbockers were smoking on the hurricane +deck; and from the steerage came at intervals a +burst of canine thunder from the leashes of pointers +and setters congregated there. As the night fell +the air grew cold, the last lady disappeared, the +sportsmen withdrew from their airy perches, +amidships the pipe of the drover became a point of +intense red. In the lighted cabin gentlemen were +drinking whisky punch, and discussing, as their +moods went, politics, the weather, the fluctuations +in the price of stock, and the condition of grouse. +Among these we sat; and my companion fell into +conversation with a young man of an excited manner +and a restless eye. I could see at a glance that +he belonged to the same class as my tobacco-less +friend of Glen Sligachan. On Fellowes he bestowed +his entire biography, made known to him the name +of his family—which was, by the way, a noble +one—volunteered the information that he had +served in the Mediterranean squadron, that he had +been tried by a court martial for a misdemeanour +of which he was entirely guiltless, and had through +the testimony of nefarious witnesses been dismissed +the service. While all this talk was going +on the steward and his assistants had swept +away the glasses from the saloon table, and from +the oddest corners and receptacles were now drawing +out pillows, sheets, and blankets. In a trice +everything became something else; the sofas of +the saloon became beds, the tables of the saloon +became beds, beds were spread on the saloon floor, +beds were extemporised near the cabin windows. +When the transformation had been completed, +and several of the passengers had coiled themselves +comfortably in their blankets, the remainder +struggling with their boots, or in various stages of +dishabille, the ex-naval man suddenly called out +"Steward!" +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The ex-naval man. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +That functionary looked in at the saloon door in +an instant. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring me a glass of brandy and water." +</p> + +<p> +"It's quite impossible, Mr ——," said the +steward; "the spirit-room is shut for the night. +Besides, you have had a dozen glasses of brandy +and water to-day already. You had better go to +bed, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Didn't I tell you," said the ex-naval man, +addressing Fellowes, who had by this time got his +coat and vest off; "didn't I tell you that the whole +world is in a conspiracy against me? It makes a +dead set at me. That fellow now is as great a foe +of mine as was the commodore at Malta." +</p> + +<p> +Fellowes made no reply, and got into bed. I +followed his example. The ex-naval man sat +gloomily alone for a while, and then with the +assistance of the steward he undressed and clambered +into a cool berth beside one of the cabin +windows. Thereafter the lights were turned low. +</p> + +<p> +I could not sleep, however; the stifling air of the +place, in which there lived a faint odour of hot +brandy and water, and the constant throb throb of +the engines, kept me awake. I turned from one side +to the other, till at last my attention was attracted +by the movements of my strange friend opposite. +He raised his head stealthily and took covert +survey of the saloon; then he leant on his elbow; +then he sat upright in his berth. That feat +accomplished, he began to pour forth to some +imaginary auditor the story of his wrongs. +</p> + +<p> +He had not gone on long when a white night-capped +head bounced up in a far corner of the dim +saloon. "Will you be good enough," said the pale +apparition in a severe voice, "to go to sleep? It's +monstrous, sir, that you should disturb gentlemen +at this hour of the night by your nonsensical +speeches." +</p> + +<p> +At the sight and the voice the ex-naval man +sank into his berth as suddenly as an alarmed +beaver sinks into his dam, and there was silence for +a time. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly, from the berth, I saw the ex-naval +man's head rising as stealthily as the head of a +blackcock above a bunch of rushes. Again he +sat up in bed, and again to the same invisible +auditor he confided his peculiar griefs. +</p> + +<p> +"Confound you, sir." "What do you mean, sir?" +and at the half-dozen white apparitions confronting +him the ex-naval man again dived. +</p> + +<p> +In about ten minutes the head opposite began +again to stir. Never from ambush did Indian +warrior rise more noiselessly than did the ex-naval +man from his blankets. He paused for a little on +his elbow, looked about him cautiously, got into +a sitting position, and began a third harangue. +</p> + +<p> +"What the devil!" "This is intolerable!" +"Steward, steward!" "Send the madman on +deck;" and the saloon rose <i>en masse</i> against the +disturber of its rest. The steward came running in at +the outcry, but the ex-naval man had ducked under +like a shot, and was snoring away in simulated +slumber as if he had been the Seven Sleepers rolled +into one. +</p> + +<p> +That night he disturbed our rest no more, and +shortly after I fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +A fierce trampling on deck, and the noise of the +crane hoisting the cargo from the deep recesses of +the hold awoke me. I dressed and went above. +The punctual sun was up and at his work. We +were off a strip of sandy beach, with a row of white +houses stretching along it, and with low rocky +hills behind the houses. Some half-dozen +deeply-laden shore boats were leaving the side of the +steamer. Then a cow was brought forward, a +door was opened in the bulwarks, and the animal +quietly shoved out. Crummie disappeared with a +considerable plunge, and came to the surface somewhat +scant of breath, and with her mind in a state +of utter bewilderment. A boat was in readiness; +by a deft hand a coil of rope was fastened around +the horns, the rowers bent to their task, and Crummie +was towed ashore in triumph, and on reaching +it seemed nothing the worse of her unexpected +plunge forth. +</p> + +<p> +The noisy steam was then shut off; from the +moving paddles great belts of pale-green foam +rushed out and died away far astern; the strip of +beach, the white houses with the low rocky hills +behind, began to disappear, and the steamer stood +directly for Portree, which place was reached in time +for breakfast. We then drove to the Landlord's, +and on alighting I found my friend John Penruddock +marching up and down on the gravel in front +of the house. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h3> +<i>JOHN PENRUDDOCK.</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Penruddock was rather a hero of mine. +He was as tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered +as the men whom Mr Kingsley delights to +paint, and his heart was as tender as his head was +shrewd. A loquacious knave could not take +him in, and from his door a beggar would not be +sent empty away. The pressure of his mighty +hand when he met you gave you some idea of what +the clenched fist would be with its iron ridge of +knuckles. He was the healthiest-minded man I +have ever met in my walk through life. He was +strong yet gentle, pious yet without the slightest +tincture of cant or dogmatism; and his mind was +no more infested with megrims, or vanity, or +hypochondriasis, or sentimentality, than the +wind-swept sky of June with vapours. He was loyal +and affectionate to the backbone: he stuck to his +friends to the last. Pen was like the run of +ordinary mortals while your day of prosperity +remained, but when your night of difficulty fell he +came out like a lighthouse, and sent you rays of +encouragement and help. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +John Penruddock. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Pen had farms in Ireland as well as in Skye, and +it was when on a visit to him in Ulster some years +since that I became acquainted with his homely +but enduring merits. For years I had not seen +such a man. There was a reality and honest stuff +in him, which in living with him and watching his +daily goings on revealed itself hour by hour, quite +new to me. The people I had been accustomed +to meet, talk with, live with, were different. The +tendency of each of these was towards art in one +form or other. And there was a certain sadness +somehow in the contemplation of them. They +fought and strove bravely; but like the Old Guard +at Waterloo, it was brave fighting on a lost field. +After years of toil there were irremediable defects +in that man's picture; fatal flaws in that man's +book. In all their efforts were failure and +repulse, apparent to some extent to themselves, +plain enough to the passionless looker-on. That +resolute, hopeless climbing of heaven was, +according to the mood, a thing to provoke a jest +or a sigh. With Penruddock all was different. +What he strove after he accomplished. He had a +cheerful mastery over circumstances. All things +went well with him. His horses ploughed for +him, his servants reaped for him, his mills ground +for him, successfully. The very winds and dews of +heaven were to him helps and aids. Year after +year his crops grew, yellowed, were cut down and +gathered into barns, and men fed thereupon; and +year after year there lay an increasing balance +at his banker's. This continual, ever-victorious +activity seemed strange to me—a new thing +under the sun. We usually think that poets, +painters, and the like, are finer, more heroical, +than cultivators of the ground. But does the +production of a questionable book really surpass in +merit the production of a field of unquestionable +turnips? Perhaps in the severe eyes of the gods +the production of a wooden porringer, water-tight, +and fit for househould uses, is of more account +than the rearing of a tower of Babel, meant to +reach to heaven. Alas! that so many must work +on these Babel towers; cannot help toiling on +them to the very death, though every stone is +heaved into its place with weariness and mortal +pain; though when the life of the builder is wasted +out on it, it is fit habitation for no creature, can +shelter no one from rain or snow—but towering in +the eyes of men a <i>Folly</i> (as the Scotch phrase it) +after all. +</p> + +<p> +I like to recall my six weeks' sojourn in sunny +Ulster with my friend. I like to recall the rows of +whity-green willows that bordered the slow streams; +the yellow flax fields with their azure flowers, +reminding one of the maidens in German ballads; +the flax tanks and windmills; the dark-haired girls +embroidering muslins before the doors, and stealing +the while the hearts of sheepish sweethearts leaning +against the cottage walls, by soft blarney and quick +glances; the fields in which a cow, a donkey, half +a dozen long-legged porkers—looking for all the +world like pigs on stilts—cocks and hens, ducks +and geese promiscuously fed; and, above all, I like +to recall that somnolent Sunday afternoon in the +little uncomfortably-seated Presbyterian church, +when—two-thirds of the congregation asleep, the +precentor soundest of all, and the good clergyman +illustrating the doctrine of the Perseverance of the +Saints by a toddler at its mother's knee attempting +to walk, falling and bumping its forehead, +getting picked up, and in a little while, although +the bump had grown to the size of an egg, spurring +and struggling to get to the floor once again—my +eye wandered to the open church door, and in the +sunshine saw a feeding bee fold its wings on a +flower and swing there in the wind, and I forgot for +a while drawling shepherd and slumbering flock. +These are trifles, but they are pleasant trifles. +Staying with Pen, however, an event of importance +did occur. +</p> + +<p> +It was arranged that we should go to the +fair at Keady; but Pen was obliged on the +day immediately preceding to leave his farm at +Arranmore on matter of important business. It +was a wretched day of rain, and I began to +tremble for the morrow. After dinner the storm +abated, and the dull dripping afternoon set in. +While a distempered sunset flushed the west +the heavy carts from the fields came rolling into +the courtyard, the horses fetlock-deep in clay and +steaming like ovens. Then, at the sound of the +bell, the labourers came, wet, weary, sickles +hanging over their arms, yet with spirits merry enough. +These the capacious kitchen received, where they +found supper spread. It grew dark earlier than +usual, and more silent. The mill-wheel rushed +louder in the swollen stream, and lights began to +glimmer here and there in the dusty windows. +Penruddock had not yet come; he was not due for +a couple of hours. Time began to hang heavily; +so slipping to bed I solved every difficulty by +falling soundly asleep. +</p> + +<p> +The lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep, the +barking of dogs, and the loud voices of men in the +courtyard beneath, awoke me shortly after dawn. +In the silence that followed I again fell asleep, and +was roused at last by the clangour of the breakfast +bell. When I got up the sun was streaming +gloriously through the latticed window; heaven +was all the gayer and brighter for yesterday's +gloom and sulky tears, and the rooks were cawing +and flapping cheerfully in the trees above. When +I entered the breakfast-room Pen was already +there, and the tea-urn was bubbling on the table. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +On the way to the fiar. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +At the close of the meal Tim brought the dog-cart +to the door. Pen glanced at his watch. "We +have hit the time exactly, and will arrive as soon +as Mick and the cattle." There was an encouraging +chir-r-r, a flick of the whip, and in a trice we +were across the bridge and pegging along the +highway at a great pace. +</p> + +<p> +After proceeding about a mile, we turned into a +narrow path which gradually led us up into a wild +irregular country. Corn-fields, flax-tanks, and +sunny pasture lands, dotted with sheep, were left +behind as up-hill we tugged, and reached at last a +level stretch of purple moor and black peat bog. +Sometimes for a mile the ground was black with +pyramids of peat; at other times the road wriggled +before us through a dark olive morass, enlivened +here and there with patches of treacherous green; +the sound of our wheels startling into flight the +shy and solitary birds native to the region. Ever +and anon, too, when we gained sufficient elevation, +we could see the great waves of the landscape +rolling in clear morning light away to the horizon; +each wave crested with farms and belts of woodland, +and here and there wreaths of smoke rising +up from hollows where towns and villages lay hid. +After a while the road grew smoother, and afar the +little town of Keady sparkled in the sun, backed +by a range of smelting furnaces, the flames tamed +by the sunlight, making a restless shimmer in the +air, and blotting out everything beyond. Beneath, +the high road was covered with sheep and cows, +and vehicles of every description, pushing forward +to one point; the hill paths also which led down to +it were moving threads of life. On the brow of the +hill, just before we began to descend, John pulled +up for a moment. It was a pretty sight. +<span class="sidenote"> +The fair at Keady. +</span> +A few +minutes' drive brought us into Keady, and such +a busy scene I had never before witnessed. The +narrow streets and open spaces were crowded with +stalls, cattle, and people, and the press and confusion +was so great that our passage to the inn where +our machine was to be put up was matter of +considerable difficulty. Men, stripped to trousers and +shirt, with red hair streaming in the wind, rushed +backwards and forwards with horses, giving vent +at the same time to the wildest vociferations, while +clumps of sporting gentlemen, with straws in their +mouths, were inspecting, with critical eyes, the +points of the animals. Travelling auctioneers set +up their little carts in the streets, and with +astonishing effrontery and power of lung harangued the +crowd on the worth and cheapness of the articles +which they held in their hands. Beggars were +very plentiful—disease and deformity their +stock-in-trade. Fragments of humanity crawled about +upon crutches. Women stretched out shrunken +arms. Blind men rolled sightless eyeballs, blessing +the passenger when a copper tinkled in their iron +jugs—cursing yet more fervently when disappointed +in their expectation. In one place a melancholy +acrobat in dirty tights and faded tinsel was +performing evolutions with a crazy chair on a bit of +ragged carpet; he threw somersaults over it; he +embraced it firmly, and began spinning along the +ground like a wheel, in which performance man +and chair seemed to lose their individuality and +become one as it were; and at the close of every +feat he stood erect with that indescribable curve of +the right hand which should always be followed by +thunders of applause, the clown meanwhile rolling +in ecstasies of admiration in the sawdust. Alas! no +applause followed the exertions of the artist. +The tights were getting more threadbare and dingy. +His hollow face was covered with perspiration, and +there was but the sparsest sprinkling of halfpence. +I threw him a shilling, but it rolled among the +spectators' feet, and was lost in the dust. He +groped about in search of it for some little time, +and then came back to his carpet and his crazy +chair. Poor fellow! he looked as if he were used +to that kind of thing. There were many pretty +faces among the girls, and scores of them were +walking about in holiday dresses—rosy-faced lasses, +with black hair, and blue eyes shadowed by long +dark eyelashes. How they laughed, and how +sweetly the brogue melted from their lips in reply +to the ardent blarney of their sweethearts. At last +we reached an open square, or cross, as it would be +called in Scotland, more crowded, if possible, than +the narrow streets. Hordes of cattle bellowed here. +Here were sheep from the large farms standing in +clusters of fifties and hundreds; there a clump of +five or six, with the widow in her clean cap sitting +beside them. Many an hour ago she and they +started from the turf hut and the pasture beyond +the hills. Heaven send her a ready sale and good +prices! In the centre of this open space great +benches were erected, heaped with eggs, butter, +cheeses, the proprietors standing behind anxiously +awaiting the advances of customers. One section +was crowded with sweetmeat stalls, much +frequented by girls and their sweethearts. Many a +rustic compliment there had for reply a quick +glance or a scarlet cheek. Another was devoted +to poultry; geese stood about in flocks; bunches +of hens were scattered on the ground, their legs +tied together; and turkeys, enclosed in wicker +baskets, surveyed the scene with quick eyes, their +wattles all the while burning with indignation. On +reaching the inn which displayed for ensign a swan +with two heads afloat on an azure stream, we +ordered dinner at three o'clock, and thereafter +started on foot to where Penruddock's stock was +stationed. It was no easy matter to force a path; +cows and sheep were always getting in the way. +Now and then an escaped hen would come clucking +and flapping among our feet, and once a huge bull, +with horns levelled to the charge, came dashing +down the street, scattering everything before him. +Finally, we reached the spot where Mick and his +dogs were keeping watch over the cows and sheep. +</p> + +<p> +"Got here all safe, Mick, I see." +</p> + +<p> +"All safe, sir, not a quarter o' an hour ago." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I have opened my shop. We'll see how +we get on." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Bargain-making. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +By this time the dealers had gathered about, +and were closely examining the sheep, and +holding whispered consultations. At length an +excited-looking man came running forward; plunging +his hand into his breeches pocket, he produced +therefrom half-a-crown, which he slapped +into Penruddock's hand, at the same time crying +out "Ten-and-six a head." "Fifteen," said +John, returning the coin. "Twelve shillings," +said the man, bringing down the coin with +tremendous energy; "an' may I niver stir if +I'll give another farthin' for the best sheep in +Keady." "Fifteen," said John, flinging the +half-crown on the ground; "and I don't care whether +you stir again or not." By this time a crowd had +gathered about, and the chorus began. "There +isn't a dacenter man than Mr Penruddock in the +market. I've known him iver since he came to +the counthry." "Shure an' he is," began another; +"he's a jintleman ivery inch. He always gives to +the poor man a bit o' baccy, or a glass. Ach, Mr +Loney, he's not the one to ax you too high a price. +Shure, Mr Penruddock, you'll come down a six-pence +jist to make a bargain." "Is't Mr Loney +that's goin' to buy?" cried a lame man from the +opposite side, and in the opposite interest. "There +isn't sich a dealer in county Monaghan as Mr +Loney. Of coorse you'll come down something, +Mr Penruddock." "He's a rich one, too, is Mr +Loney," said the lame man, sidling up to John, +and winking in a knowing manner, "an' a power o' +notes he has in his pocket-book." Mr Loney, who +had been whispering with his group a little apart, +and who had again made an inspection of the stock, +returned the second time to the charge. +"Twelve-an'-six," cried he, and again the half-crown was +slapped into Penruddock's palm. "Twelve-an'-six, +an' not another farthin' to save my soul." "Fifteen," +said John, returning the half-crown with +equal emphasis; "you know my price, and if you +won't take it you can let it stand." The dealer +disappeared in huge wrath, and the chorus broke +out in praises of both. By this time Mr Loney +was again among the sheep; it was plain his heart +was set upon the purchase. Every now and then +he caught one, got it between his legs, examined +the markings on its face, and tested the depth and +quality of its wool. He appeared for the third +time, while the lame man and the leader of the +opposing chorus seemed coming to blows, so zealous +were they in the praises of their respective heroes. +"Fourteen," said Mr Loney, again producing the +half-crown, spitting into his hand at the same time, +as much as to say, he would do the business now. +"Fourteen," he cried, crushing the half-crown into +Penruddock's hand, and holding it there. "Fourteen, +an' divil a rap more I'll give." "Fourteen," +said John, as if considering, then throwing back the +coin, "Fourteen-and-six, and let it be a bargain." +</p> + +<p> +"Didn't I say," quoth John's chorus leader, looking +round him with an air of triumph, "didn't I +say that Mr Penruddock's a jintleman? Ye see +how he drops the sixpence. I niver saw him do a +mane thing yet. Ach, he's the jintleman ivery +inch, an' that's saying a dale, considerin' his size." +</p> + +<p> +"Fourteen-and-six be it then," said the dealer, +bringing down the coin for the last time. "An' if +I take the lot you'll give me two pounds in t' +myself?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Loney; I don't care although I do," said +Penruddock, pocketing the coin at last. A roll of +notes was produced, the sum counted out, and the +bargain concluded. The next moment Loney was +among the sheep, scoring some mark or other on +their backs with a piece of red chalk. Penruddock +scattered what spare coppers he possessed among +the bystanders, and away they went to sing the +praises of the next bargain-maker. +</p> + +<p> +Pen turned to me laughing. "This is a nice +occupation for a gentleman of respectable birth +and liberal education, is it not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Odd. It is amusing to watch the process by +which your sheep are converted into bank-notes. +Does your friend, Mr Loney, buy the animals for +himself?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, dear, no. We must have middlemen of +one kind or another in this country. Loney is +commissioned to purchase, and is allowed so much +on the transaction." +</p> + +<p> +By this time a young handsome fellow pushed +his horse through the crowd and approached us. +"Good morning," cried he to Penruddock. "Any +business doing?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have just sold my sheep." +</p> + +<p> +"Good price?" +</p> + +<p> +"Fair. Fourteen and six." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, not so bad. These cattle, I suppose, are +yours? We must try if we can't come to a +bargain about them." Dismounting, he gave his +horse in keeping to a lad, and he and John went +off to inspect the stock. +</p> + +<p> +Business was proceeding briskly on all sides. +There was great higgling as to prices, and shillings +and half-crowns were tossed in a wonderful +manner from palm to palm. Apparently, nothing +could be transacted without that ceremony, +whatever it might mean. Idlers were everywhere +celebrating the merits and "dacency" of the +various buyers and sellers. Huge greasy leather +pocket-books, of undoubted antiquity, were to be +seen in many a hand, and rolls of bank-notes were +deftly changing owners. The ground, too, was +beginning to clear, and purchasers were driving off +their cattle. Many of the dealers who had disposed +of stock were taking their ease in the inns. +You could see them looking out of the open +windows; and occasionally a man whose potations +had been early and excessive went whooping +through the crowd. In a short time John returned +with his friend. +</p> + +<p> +"Captain Broster," said John, presenting him, +"has promised to dine with us at three. Sharp at +the hour, mind, for we wish to leave early." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll be punctual as clockwork," said the +captain, turning to look after his purchases. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Welsh forgemen. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +We strolled up and down till three o'clock, and +then bent our steps to the inn, where we found +Broster waiting. In honour to his guests the +landlord himself brought in dinner, and waited with +great diligence. When the table was cleared we +had punch and cigars, and sat chatting at the open +window. The space in front was tolerably clear of +cattle now, but dealers were hovering about, +standing in clumps, or promenading in parties of twos +and threes. But at this point a new element had +entered into the scene. It was dinner hour, and +many of the forgemen from the furnaces above had +come down to see what was going on. Huge, +hulking, swarthy-featured fellows they were. +Welshmen, chiefly, as I was afterwards told, who, +confident in their strength, were at no pains to +conceal their contempt for the natives. They, too, +mingled in the crowd, but the greater number +leaned lazily against the houses, smoking their +short pipes, and indulging in the dangerous luxury +of "chaffing" the farmers. Many a rude wit-combat +was going on, accompanied by roars of laughter, +snatches of which we occasionally heard. Broster +had been in the Crimea, was wounded at Alma, +recovered, went through all the work and privation +of the first winter of the siege, got knocked up, +came home on sick leave, and having had enough +of it, as he frankly confessed, took the opportunity +on his father's death, which happened then, to sell +out and settle as a farmer on a small property to +which he fell heir. He chatted about the events of +the war in an easy familiar way, quietly, as if the +whole affair had been a game at football; and when +courage, strength, and splendid prospects were +changed by unseen bullet, or grim bayonet stab, +into a rude grave on the bleak plateau, the thing +was mentioned as a mere matter of course! Sometimes +a comrade's fate met with an expression of +soldierly regret, slight and indifferent enough, yet +with a certain pathos which no high-flown oration +could reach. For the indifferent tone seemed to +acquiesce in destiny, to consider that disappointment +had been too common in the life of every +man during the last six thousand years to warrant +any raving or passionate surprise at this time of +day; that in any case our ordinary pulse and +breath beat our march to the grave; passion the +double-quick; and when it is all over, there is +little need for outcry and the shedding of tears +over the eternal rest. +<span class="sidenote"> +The scuffle in the inn. +</span> +In the midst of his talk +voices rose in one of the apartments below; the +noise became altercation, and immediately a kind +of struggling or dragging was heard in the flagged +passage, and then a tipsy forgeman was +unceremoniously shot out into the square, and the inn +door closed with an angry bang. The individual +seemed to take the indignity in very good part; +along he staggered, his hands in his pockets, +heedless of the satirical gibes and remarks of his +companions, who were smoking beneath our windows. +Looking out, we could see that his eyes were closed, +as if he scorned the outer world, possessing one so +much more satisfactory within himself. As he +went he began to sing from sheer excess of +happiness, the following stanza coming distinctly to our +ears:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "When I was a chicken as big as a hen,<br> + My mother 'ot me, an' I 'ot her agen;<br> + My father came in for to see the r-r-rrow,<br> + So I lifted my fist, an' I 'ot him a clow."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"I hope that fellow won't come to grief," said +Broster, as the forgeman lurched through a group +of countrymen intent on a bargain, and passed on +without notice or apology, his eyes closed, and +singing as before— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Ses my mother, ses she, There's a Peeler at hand."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The fair fight. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"By Jove, he's down at last, and there'll be the +devil to pay!" We looked out, the forgeman was +prone in the dust, singing, and apparently unconscious +that he had changed his position. A party +of farmers were standing around laughing; one of +them had put out his foot and tripped the +forgeman as he passed. The next moment a bare-armed +black-browed hammersmith strode out from +the wall, and, without so much as taking the pipe +from his mouth, felled the dealer at a blow, and +then looked at his companions as if wishing to be +informed if he could do anything in the same way +for them. The blow was a match dropped in a +powder magazine. Alelu! to the combat. There +were shouts and yells. Insult had been rankling +long in the breasts of both parties. Old scores had +to be paid off. From every quarter, out of the +inns, leaving potheen and ale, down the streets from +among the cattle, the dealers came rushing to the +fray. The forgemen mustered with alacrity, as if +battle were the breath of their nostrils. In a few +seconds the square was the scene of a general +<i>mêlée</i>. The dealers fought with their short heavy +sticks; the forgemen had but the weapons nature +gave, but their arms were sinewed with iron, and +every blow told like a hammer. These last were +overpowered for a while, but the alarm had already +spread to the furnaces above, and parties of twos +and threes came at a run, and flung themselves in to +the assistance of their companions. Just at this +moment a couple of constables pressed forward +into the yelling crowd. A hammersmith came +behind one, and seizing his arms, held him, despite +his struggles, firmly as in a vice. The other was +knocked over and trampled under foot. "Good +heavens, murder will be done," cried Broster, lifting +his heavy whip from the table; "we must try and +put an end to this disgraceful scene. Will you +join me?" "With heart and soul," said Penruddock, +"and there is no time to be lost. Come +along." At the foot of the stair we found the +landlord shaking in every limb. He had locked +the door, and was standing in the passage with the +key in his hand. "M'Queen, we want out; open +the door." +</p> + +<p> +"Shure, jintlemen, you're not goin' just now. +You'll be torn to paces if you go." +</p> + +<p> +"If you won't open the door, give me the key, +and I'll open it myself." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Black Jem. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The landlord passively yielded. Broster unlocked +the door, and flung the key down on the flagged +passage. "Now, my lads," cried he to half-a-dozen +countrymen who were hanging-on spectators on +the skirts of the combat, and at the same time +twisting his whip-lash tightly round his right +hand till the heavy-leaded head became a formidable +weapon, a blow from which would be effective +on any skull of ordinary susceptibility; "Now, my +lads, we are resolved to put an end to this; will you +assist us?" The captain's family had been long +resident in the county, he was himself personally +known to all of them, and a cheerful "Ay, ay," was +the response. "Penruddock, separate them when +you can, knock them over when you can't, Welshman +or Irishman, it's quite the same." So saying, +in we drove. Broster clove a way for himself, +distributing his blows with great impartiality, and +knocking over the combatants like nine-pins. We +soon reached the middle of the square, where the +fight was hottest. The captain was swept away in +an eddy for a moment, and right in front of +Penruddock and myself two men were grappling on the +ground. As they rolled over, we saw that one was +the hammersmith who had caused the whole affray. +We flung ourselves upon them, and dragged them +up. The dealer, with whom I was more particularly +engaged, had got the worst of it, and +plainly wasn't sorry to be released from the +clutches of his antagonist. With his foe it was +different. His slow sullen blood was fairly in a +blaze, and when Pen pushed him aside, he dashed +at him and struck him a severe blow on the face. +In a twinkling Penruddock's coat was off, while +the faintest stream of blood trickled from his upper +lip. "Well, my man," said he, as he stood up +ready for action, "if that's the game you mean to +play at, I hope to give you a bellyful before I've +done." "Seize that man, knock him over," said +Broster; "you're surely not going to fight <i>him</i>, +Penruddock, it's sheer madness; knock him over." "I +tell you what it is," said Penruddock, turning +savagely, "you shan't deprive me of the luxury +of giving this fellow a sound hiding." Broster +shrugged his shoulders, as if giving up the case. +By this time the cry arose, "Black Jem's goin' to +fight the gentleman;" and a wide enough ring was +formed. +<span class="sidenote"> +The fight. +</span> +Many who were prosecuting small combats +of their own desisted, that they might behold +the greater one. Broster stood beside John. "He's +an ugly mass of strength," whispered he, "and will +hug you like a bear; keep him well off, and remain +cool for Heaven's sake." "Ready?" said John, +stepping forward. "As a lark i' the mornin'," +growled Jem, as he took up his ground. The men +were very wary—Jem retreating round and round, +John advancing. Now and then one or other +darted out a blow, but it was generally stopped, +and no harm done. At last the blows went home; +the blood began to rise. The men drew closer, +and struck with greater rapidity. They are at it at +last, hammer and tongs. No shirking or flinching +now. Jem's blood was flowing. He was evidently +getting severely punished. He couldn't last long +at that rate. He fought desperately for a close, when +a blinding blow full in the face brought him to the +earth. He got up again like a madman, the whole +bull-dog nature of him possessed and mastered by +brutal rage. He cursed and struggled in the arms +of his supporters to get at his enemy, but by +main force they held him back till he recovered +himself. "He'll be worked off in another round," +I heard Broster whisper in my ear. Ah! here they +come! I glanced at Pen for a moment as he +stood with his eye on his foe. There was that in +his face that boded no good. The features had +hardened into iron somehow; the pitiless mouth +was clenched, the eye cruel. A hitherto unknown +part of his nature revealed itself to me as he stood +there—perhaps unknown to himself. God help +us, what strangers we are to ourselves! In every +man's nature there is an interior unexplored as that +of Africa, and over that region what wild beasts +may roam! But they are at it again; Jem still +fights for a close, and every time his rush is stopped +by a damaging blow. They are telling rapidly; +his countenance, by no means charming at the best, +is rapidly transforming. Look at that hideously +gashed lip! But he has dodged Penruddock's +left this time, and clutched him in his brawny +arms. Now comes the tug of war, skill pitted +against skill, strength against strength. They +breathe for a little in each other's grip, as if +summoning every energy. They are at it now, broad +chest to chest. Now they seem motionless, but by +the quiver of their frames you can guess the terrific +strain going on. Now one has the better, now the +other, as they twine round each other, lithe and +supple as serpents. Penruddock yields! No! +That's a bad dodge of Jem's. By Jove he loses +his grip. All is over with him. Pen's brow grows +dark; the veins start out on it; and the next +moment Black Jem, the hero of fifty fights, slung +over his shoulder, falls heavily to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Retreat of the hammermen. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +At his fall a cheer rose from the dealers. "You +blacksmith fellows had better make off," cried +Broster; "your man has got the thrashing he +deserves, and you can carry him home with you. +I am resolved to put a stop to these +disturbances—there have been too many of late." The +furnacemen hung for a moment irresolute, seemingly +half-inclined to renew the combat, but a formidable +array of cattle-dealers pressed forward and turned +the scale. They decided on a retreat. Black Jem, +who had now come to himself, was lifted up, and, +supported by two men, retired toward the works +and dwellings on the upper grounds, accompanied +by his companions, who muttered many a surly +oath and vow of future vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +When we got back to the inn, Pen was very +anxious about his face. He washed, and carefully +perused his features in the little looking-glass. +Luckily, with the exception of the upper lip +slightly cut by Jim's first blow, no mark of the +combat presented itself. At this happy result of +his investigations he expressed great +satisfaction—Broster laughing the meanwhile, and telling +him that he was as careful of his face as a young +lady. +</p> + +<p> +The captain came down to see us off. The fair +was over now, and the little streets were almost +deserted. The dealers—apprehensive of another +descent from the furnaces—had hurried off as soon +as their transactions could in any way permit. +Groups of villagers, however, were standing about +the doors discussing the event of the day; and +when Penruddock appeared he became, for a +quarter of an hour, an object of public interest +for the first time in his life, and so far as he has +yet lived for the last; an honour to which he did +not seem to attach any particular value. +</p> + +<p> +We shook hands with the captain; then, at a +touch of the whip, the horse started at a gallant +pace, scattering a brood of ducks in all directions; +and in a few minutes Keady—with its whitewashed +houses and dark row of furnaces, tipped +with tongues of flame, pale and shrunken yet in +the lustre of the afternoon, but which would rush +out wild and lurid when the evening fell—lay a +rapidly dwindling speck behind. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +John Penruddock. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +I am induced to set down this business of the +Irish market and market fight in order that the +reader may gather some idea of the kind of man +Penruddock was. He was not particularly witty, +although on occasion he could say a good and +neat thing enough; on no subject was he +profoundly read; I don't think that he ever attempted +to turn a stanza, even when a boy and in love; he +did not care for art; he was only conscious of a +blind and obscure delight in music, and even for +<i>that</i> the music had to be of the simplest kind—melody, +not harmony. He had his limitations, you +see: but as a man I have seldom met his equal. +He was sagacious, kindly, affectionate, docile, +patient, and unthinking of self. There was a peculiar +deference in his ordinary manner, as if he were +continually in the presence of a lady. Above all +things, he was sincere, and you trusted Pen when +you came to know him as implicitly as you +would a law of nature. If you were out in a +small boat in a storm with him; if you were +ascending or descending a steep rocky hill-face +with him, and got giddy on his hands; if you were +in the heart of a snow-storm on the hills with +him, when all traces of the road were lost, and the +cold began to make thick your blood with the +deadly pleasure of sleep—in such circumstances +you found out what he was: cool, courageous, +helpful; full of resource, with a quick brain, an +iron nerve, a giant's strength. To the possessor of +such solid worth and manhood your merely brilliant +talker, your epigrammatist, your sayer of +smart things, is essentially a poor creature. What +is wit?—a sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. +What is epigram? Penruddock did not paint +pictures or write poems; it was his business "to +make good sheep," as the Skye people say, and +magnificent sheep he did make. +</p> + +<p> +Pen had an ideal sheep in his mind, and to +reach that ideal he was continually striving. At +the yearly winnowings of his stock he selected his +breeding ewes with the utmost care, and these +ewes, without spot or blemish, he crossed with +wonderfully-horned and far-brought rams, for +which he sometimes paid enormous prices—so +at least his neighbours said. His sheep he bred +in Skye for the most part, and then he sent +them over to Ulster to fatten. There, on pasture +and turnips, they throve amazingly, all their good +points coming into prominence, all their bad points +stealing modestly into the shade. At markets, +Penruddock's sheep always brought excellent prices, +and his lot was certain to be about the best shown. +</p> + +<p> +Pen and the Landlord had business relations. In +partnership, they brought over meal from Ireland, +they speculated in turnips, they dealt in curious +manures which were to the sour Skye soil what +plum-pudding is to a charity boy: above all, he +was confederate in a scheme of emigration which +the Landlord had concocted, and was in the course +of carrying out. Pen's visit at this time was purely +a business one: he wished to see me, but that was +far from his sole motive in coming—so he frankly +said. But I did not care for that; I was quite +able to bear the truth, and was glad to have him +on any conditions. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h3> +<i>A SMOKING PARLIAMENT.</i> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The opposite side of the street. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +One morning after our return, when breakfast +was over, the Landlord, followed by Maida, +carried the parrot into the sunshine in front of the +house, and, sitting down on one of the iron seats, +lighted a cheroot. As there was nothing on the +cards on that special morning, we all followed him, +and, lifting his cheroot-case, helped ourselves. The +morning was warm and pleasant; and as no one +had anything particular to say, we smoked in +silence and were happy. The only one who was +occupied was Fellowes. A newspaper had reached +him by post the evening before, and with its pages +he was now busy. Suddenly he burst out laughing, +and read out from a half column of <i>facetiæ</i> how +an Irishman was anxious to discover the opposite +side of the street, and making inquiries at the +passengers, was kept knocking about from one side +of the thoroughfare to the other, like a ball in a +racket-court. Pat was told that the opposite side +of the street was "over there;" and when he got +"over there," to his sore bewilderment he discovered +that the opposite side of the street, as if on +purpose to torment him, had slipped anchor and +flitted away to the side on which he had been +making inquiries a few moments previously. We +all laughed at Pat's intellectual perplexity; and +shutting up the paper Fellowes maintained, in the +light cynical vein so common at present, that the +hunt after the opposite side of the street was no +bad image of the hunt after truth. "Truth is always +'over there,'" he said; "and when you get 'over +there,' running extreme peril from cab and dray in +crossing, you find that it has gone back to the place +from which you started. And so a man spends his +life in chasing, and is as far on at the end of it as +he was at the beginning. No man ever yet reached +truth, or the opposite side of the street." +</p> + +<p> +"What creatures those Irish are, to be sure!" said +the Landlord, as he knocked a feather of white ash +from the tip of his cheroot; "it would be a dull +world without them. In India, a single Irishman +at a station is enough to banish blue devils. +The presence of an Irishman anywhere keeps +away low spirits, just as a cat in a house keeps +away rats and mice. Every station should wear +an Irishman, as an amulet against despondency." +</p> + +<p> +"I have lived a good deal both in Ireland and +the Highlands," said Pen, "and the intellectual +differences between the two races have often struck +me as not a little curious. They are of the same +stock originally, antiquarians say; and yet Ireland +is a land of Goshen, overflowing with the milk and +honey of humour, whereas in every quality of humour +the Highlands are as dry as the Sahara. Jokes +don't usually come farther north than the +Grampians. One or two are occasionally to be found in +Ross-shire over there; but they are far from common, +and their appearance is chronicled in the local +prints just as the appearance of the capercailzie is +chronicled. No joke has yet been found strong-winged +enough to cross the Kyles. That's odd, +is it not?" +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Highland wit. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"But have not the Highlanders wit?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh yes, plenty of it, but rather of the strenuous +than of the playful kind; their wit is born for the +most part of anger or contempt. 'There she goes,' +sneered the Englishman, as Duncan marched past +in his tartans at a fair.' 'There she lies,' retorted +Duncan, as he knocked the scorner over at a blow. +'Coming from Hell, Lauchlan,' quoth the shepherd, +proceeding on a sacrament Sunday to the Free +Church, and meeting his friend coming from the +Church of the Establishment. 'Better than going +to it, Rory,' retorted Lauchlan, as he passed on. +Of that kind of rapid and sufficient retort, of the +power of returning a blow swiftly and with interest, +the Highlander is not in the least deficient. But +he differs from the Irishman in this—that he has +no eye for the pleasantly droll side of things; he +has no fun in him, no sense of the genially comic. +He laughs, but there is generally a touch of scorn +in his laughter, and it is almost always directed +against a man or a thing. The Irishman's humorous +sense puts a stitch in the torn coat, ekes the +scanty purse, boils the peas with which he is +doomed to limp graveward. The bested Highlander +can draw no amelioration of condition from such a +source. The two races dine often scantily enough, +but it is only the Irishman that can sweeten his +potatoes with point. 'They talk of hardships,' +said the poor Irish soldier as he lay down to sleep +on the deck of the transport—'They talk of hardships; +but bedad this is the hardest ship I ever was +in in my life.' No Highlander would have said +<i>that</i>. And I believe that the joke made the hard +plank all the softer to the joker." +</p> + +<p> +"And how do you account for this difference?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't account for it. The two races springing +from the same stock, I rather think it is <i>un</i>accountable; +unless, indeed, it be traceable to climatic +influence,—the soft, green, rainy Erin producing +riant and ebullient natures; the bare, flinty Highlands, +hard and austere ones. There is one quality, +however, in which your Highlander can beat the +world, with the exception, perhaps, of the North +American Indian." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Pride of the Highlander. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"What quality is that?" +</p> + +<p> +"The quality of never exhibiting astonishment. +The Highlander would as soon think of turning his +back on his foe as of expressing astonishment at +anything. Take a Highland lad from the wilds of +Skye or Harris and drop him in Cheapside, and he +will retain the most perfect equanimity. He will +have no word of marvel for the crowds and the +vehicles; the Thames Tunnel will not move him; +he will look on St Paul's without flinching. The +boy may have only ridden in a peat-cart; but he +takes a railway, the fields, hedges, bridges, and +villages spinning past, the howling gloom of the +tunnels, the speed that carries him in an hour over a +greater extent of country than he ever beheld in +his life even from his highest hill-top, as the merest +matter of course, and unworthy of special remark." +</p> + +<p> +"But the boy will be astonished all the same?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course he is. The very hair of his soul is +standing on end with wonder and terror, but he +will make no sign; he is too proud. Will he allow +the Sassenach to triumph over him? If he did, he +would not be his father's son. He will not admit +that earth holds anything which he has not measured +and weighed, and with which he is not perfectly +familiar. When Chingachgook groans at +the stake in the hearing of his tormentors, the +Highlander will express surprise." +</p> + +<p> +"This disinclination to express astonishment, if +it does exist to the extent you say amongst the +Highlanders, must arise from a solitary mode of +living. People up in these Western Islands live on +the outskirts of existence, so to speak; and the +knowledge that a big, bustling, important world +exists beyond their horizon 'intensifies their +individualism,' as the poet said the bracing air of old +St Andrews intensified his. They are driven in on +themselves; they are always standing in an attitude +of mental self-defence; they become naturally +self-contained and self-sustained." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Chaff. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"To some extent what you say is true; but the +main reason of the Highlander's calmness and +self-command in the presence of new and wonderful +objects is pride. To express astonishment at the +sight of an object implies previous ignorance of +that object; and no Highlander worthy of the +name will admit that he is ignorant of anything +under the sun. To come back, however, to what +we were speaking about a little while ago,—the +differences between the Highlanders and the Irish—the +light-hearted Irishman delights to 'chaff' and +to be 'chaffed;' the intenser and more serious-hearted +Highlander can neither do the one nor +endure the other. The bit of badinage which an +Irishman will laugh at and brush carelessly aside, +stings the Highlander like a gadfly. When the +Highlander is fencing, the button is always coming +off his foil, and the point is in your arm before you +know where you are. If you enter into a gay +wit-combat with a Highlander, it is almost certain to +have a serious ending—just as the old Highland +wedding-feasts, beginning with pledged healths and +universal three-times-three, ended in a brawl and +half-a-dozen men dirked." +</p> + +<p> +"Chaff, in common with shoddy, the adulteration +of food, and the tailor-sweating system, is the +product of an over-ripe civilisation. It is the glimmer +on the head of the dead cod-fish—putridity become +phosphorescent. It can only thrive in large cities. +It is the offspring of impudence and loquacity. I +am not astonished that the Highlander cannot +endure it; it is out of his way altogether. He no +more can use it as a weapon of offence or defence +than David could wear the armour of Saul. Chaff +grows in the crowded street, not in the wilderness. +It is the one thing we have brought into perfection +in these later days. It is a weed that grows lustily, +because it is manured with our vices and our +decomposed faiths. I don't think the worse of the +Highlander because he cannot chaff or endure +being chaffed. A London cabman would slang +Socrates into silence in a quarter of an hour." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose," said the Landlord, "when the Skye +railway is finished we poor Highlanders will get +our jokes from the South, as we get our tea and +sugar. It's a pity the Board of Directors did not +mention that special import in their prospectus. +The shares might have gone off more rapidly, +Pen!" +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Distrust of nature. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"By the by," said Fellowes, turning to me, "you +were speaking the other day of the curious distrust +of Nature, which you consider the soul of all Celtic +poetry and Celtic superstition, and you were +inclined to attribute that distrust and fear to the +austerities of climate and physical conformation, to +the rain-cloud, and the precipice, the sea-foam, and +the rock. I agree with you so far; but I think you +lay too much stress on climatic influences and the +haggardness of landscape. That quick sense of +two powers—of Nature and Humanity, of man +and a world outside of man—is the root of all +poetry." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course it is. To the Celt, Nature is malign, +evil-disposed, cruel; and his poetry is dreary as +the strain of the night wind. To a Wordsworth, +on the other hand, Nature is merciful and +tranquil, deep-thoughted and calm; and as a +consequence his poetry is temperate and humane, cool +as a summer evening after the sun has set, +and—with all reverence be it spoken—sometimes +tiresomely hortatory." +</p> + +<p> +"Preaching is generally dull work, I fear; and +Nature's sermons, even when reported by Wordsworth, +are as dull as some other sermons which I +have heard and read." +</p> + +<p> +"But what I was going to say was, that the +sense of malevolence in Nature which you claim as +the central fact of Celtic song and superstition, is +not so much the result of harsh climates and wild +environments as it is a stage in the mental progress +of a race. At one stage of progress, all races +fear Nature alike. The South-Sea Islander, whose +bread-fruit falls into his mouth, fears Nature just +as much as the Greenlander, who hunts the white +bear on the iceberg and spears the walrus in the +foam. When once man has got the upper hand of +Nature, when he has made her his slave, when her +winds sit in his sails and propel his ships, when she +yields him iron whereby she is more firmly bound +to his service, when she gives him coal wherewith +to cook food and to mitigate the rigours of her +winters—when man has got that length, the aboriginal +fear dies out of his heart, the weird Celtic bard +goes, and Wordsworth comes. Even in the Lowlands, +scraps of verses still exist—relics of long +past time, and shuddering yet with an obsolete +terror—which are as full of a sense of the +malevolence of Nature as any Highland song or tune you +could produce." +</p> + +<p> +"Let me hear one or two." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, here is one which has been occasionally +quoted, and which you have in all likelihood come +across in your reading:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'Says Tweed to Till,<br> + What gars ye rin sae still?<br> + Says Till to Tweed,<br> + Though ye rin wi' speed,<br> + An' I rin slaw,<br> + For ae man that ye droon,<br> + I droon twa.'"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is very striking, and hits the nail on the +head exactly. Sir Walter quotes it somewhere, I +think. I have little doubt that these rhymes +suggested to Scott his Voices of the River in the +'Lay,' which is not that of the kelpie, a creature +<i>in</i> the river, but of the river itself, in spiritual +personation." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +"The dowie Dean." +</span> +</p> + +<p> +"That may be, or it may not. But nowhere, that +I know of, does that sense of an evil will, and an +alienation from man in nature, find a profounder +and more tragic, if withal a playful, half-humorous +expression than in this curious little Border +fragment, unless, indeed, it be beaten by this from +Forfarshire. Of the Dean stream, wherein, while it +was yet golden time with me, I slew many a fine +trout, there existed then a local rhyme of much +less artistic and literary completion than that +relating the colloquy between Till and Tweed, but, as I +think, in its rudeness if anything even more +gruesome and grim— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'The dowie Dean,<br> + It rins it lean,<br> + An' every seven year it gets ean.'"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"What a hideous <i>patois</i>," quoth the Landlord, +"your Forfarshire people must talk! I can't say I +understand a word of your rhymes. Perhaps you +will be good enough to translate." +</p> + +<p> +Fellowes laughed. "I'll do my best,— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'The dowie (quietly dismal) Dean,<br> + It rins it lean, (its lane, lone, solitary,)<br> + An' every seven year it gets ean, (ane, one.)'<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +There it is now, in Scotch and English, for you. +What specially strikes me in this rhyme is its quiet +power of awe, its reflex of the passionless calm, +which, in scorn of contrast with the 'fever and fret' +and flux of human feeling, is the specially frightful +thing in Nature. No need for the Dean to trouble +itself to employ kelpies: it runs quietly, gloomily +on, feeding its fine red trout, and sure that by the +serene law of the case when the hour comes the +man will, and will drop to his moist doom, with no +trouble given. 'It gets ean' when the said 'ean' is +due; and never having been disappointed, it runs +on 'dowie,' and not disturbing itself, as certain of +its food in season. This it plainly reckons on, +somewhat as year after year we look for strawberries +and new potatoes. Then, the 'It rins it lean' by +itself, solitary, sullen, morose, as it were, and in the +deeps of its moody pools, meditating periodical +unsocial mischiefs, past and to come. For haggard, +imaginative suggestion, unless it be in the 'Twa +Corbies,' I don't know where we can quite equal +this. Beside this primal poetry of man's spiritual +instinct of terror our later verse-developments are +the merest nothings." +</p> + +<p> +While I kept repeating over to myself the rude +triplet which was new to me, and creeping as best +I could into its fell significance, Pen said— +</p> + +<p> +"And I suppose, in point of fact, that your +gloomy hermit and murderer of a stream did get +'ean' every seven years. Don't you think only +'ean' in seven years a somewhat scant allowance? +Most streams are as well supplied, I rather +think." +</p> + +<p> +"This septennial victim was in my boyhood +considered by the natives as the toll exacted by, and +fated due of the river; and I have heard the old +people reckon back, over 'Jock Tamson that was +drowned i' the year ——, coming hame fou frae the +fair;' 'Wull Smith,' fou of course, also, who, fresh +from 'the spring roup of grass parks at the Hatton +in the year ——,' was unexpectedly treated to more +water than he needed for his purposes of grog; +and so on. The old inhabitant would then conclude +with a grave—'It's weel kent the burn's nae +canny;' and a confident prediction, with half a +shudder in his voice, that 'ye'll see it winna be +lang noo till it maun get anither.' Any sceptic was +at once silenced with—'Weel-a-weel—say yer say +o't the noo, and jist bide till ye see. But dinna +ye be daunerin' doon 't yersel', neist nicht ye're fou, +or maybe, my braw man, <i>ye'll no see</i>. I'm no saying +but ye'll mak' a bonny corp, giff ye downa +swall wi' the burn-water, yer stamack nae bein' +used to't.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Your theory is correct," said the Landlord, turning +to Fellowes, "that the fear of Nature is common +to all races, and that as each race advances +in civilisation the terror dies out. The kelpie, for +instance, always lives near a ford—bridge the +stream, and the kelpie dies. Build a road across a +haunted hill, and you banish the fairies of the hill +for ever. The kelpie and the fairy are simply +spiritual personations of very rude and common +dangers—of being carried away by the current +when you are attempting to cross a river—of +being lost when you are taking a short cut across +hills on which there is no track. Abolish the +dangers, and you at the same time abolish those +creatures, Fear and Fancy." +</p> + +<p> +"Rhymes like these are the truest antiques, the +most precious articles of <i>virtu</i>. What is the +brooch or ring that the fair woman wore, the +brogues in which the shepherd travelled, the sword +or shield with which the warrior fought, compared +with a triplet like that, which is really an authentic +bit of the terror that agitated human hearts long +ago?" +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Skye railway. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +But while we were discussing the Dean flowing +on solitarily, every gurgle silenced with expectation +as the hour drew near when its seven years' +hunger would be appeased, Pen and the Landlord +had drifted away to the subject of the Skye +railway—this summer and the last a favourite subject of +discussion in the Island. +</p> + +<p> +"You are a great friend of the railway?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I am," said the Landlord. "I consider +the locomotive the good wizard of our modern +day. Its whistle scares away filth, mendicancy, +and unthrift; ignorance and laziness perish in the +glare of its red eyes. I have seen what it has done +for the Hindoo, and I know what it will do for the +Islesman. We hold India by our railways to-day +rather than by our laws or our armies. The swart +face of the stoker is the first sign of the golden age +that has become visible in my time." +</p> + +<p> +"What benefits do you expect the railway will +bring with it to Skye?" +</p> + +<p> +"It will bring us in closer contact with the South. +By the aid of the railway we shall be enabled to +send our stock to the southern markets more +rapidly, more cheaply, and in better condition, and +as a consequence we will obtain better prices. By +aid of the railway the Islands will be opened up, +our mineral treasures will be laid bare, our marbles +will find a market, the Skye apple and the Skye +strawberry will be known in Covent Garden, our +fisheries will flourish as they have never flourished +before. The railway will bring southern capital to +us, and humane southern influences. The railway +will send an electric shock through the entire +Island. Everybody's pulse will be quickened; the +turf-hut will disappear; and the Skyeman will no +longer be considered a lazy creature: which he is +not—he only seems so because he has never found +a proper field for the display of his activities. There +are ten chances to one that your Skye lad, if left in +Skye, will remain a fisherman or a shepherd; but +transplant him to Glasgow, Liverpool, or London, +and he not unfrequently blossoms into a merchant +prince. There were quick and nimble brains under +the shock heads of the lads you saw at my school +the other day, and to each of these lads the +railway will open a career great or small, or, at all +events, the chance of one." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The emigrants. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +When the Landlord had ceased speaking, a boy +brought the post-bag and laid it down on the +gravel. It was opened, and we got our letters—the +Landlord a number of Indian ones. These he +put into his coat pocket. One he tore open and +read. "Hillo, Pen!" he cried, when he got to the +end, "my emigrants are to be at Skeabost on +Thursday; we must go over to see them." Then +he marched into the house, and in a little time +thereafter our smoking parliament dissolved. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h3> +<i>THE EMIGRANTS.</i> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Emigration. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The English emigrant is prosaic; Highland +and Irish emigrants are poetical. How is +this? The wild-rose lanes of England, one would +think, are as bitter to part from, and as worthy to +be remembered at the antipodes, as the wild coasts +of Skye or the green hills of Ireland. Oddly +enough, poet and painter turn a cold shoulder on +the English emigrant, while they expend infinite +pathos on the emigrants from Erin or the Highlands. +The Highlander has his Lochaber-no-more, +and the Irishman has the Countess of Gifford's +pretty song. The ship in the offing, and the +parting of Highland emigrants on the sea-shore, has +been made the subject of innumerable paintings; +and yet there is a sufficient reason for it all. Young +man and maid are continually parting; but unless +the young man and maid are lovers, the farewell-taking +has no attraction for the singer or the artist. +Without the laceration of love, without some +tumult of sorrowful emotion, a parting is the most +prosaic thing in the world; with these it is perhaps +the most affecting. "Good-bye" serves for the one; +the most sorrowful words of the poet are hardly +sufficient for the other. Rightly or wrongly, it is +popularly understood that the English emigrant is +not mightily moved by regret when he beholds the +shores that gave him birth withdrawing themselves +into the dimness of the far horizon,—although, if true, +why it should be so? and if false, how it has crept +into the common belief? are questions not easy to +answer. If the Englishman is obtuse and indifferent +in this respect, the Highlander is not. He has +a cat-like love for locality. He finds it as difficult +to part from the faces of the familiar hills as from +the faces of his neighbours. In the land of his +adoption he cherishes the language, the games, and +the songs of his childhood; and he thinks with a +continual sadness of the gray-green slopes of +Lochaber, and the thousand leagues of dim, +heart-breaking sea tossing between them and him. +</p> + +<p> +The Celt clings to his birthplace, as the ivy +nestles lovingly to its wall; the Saxon is like the +arrowy seeds of the dandelion, that travel on the +wind and strike root afar. This simply means that +the one race has a larger imagination than the +other, and an intenser feeling of association. +Emigration is more painful to the Highlander than +it is to the Englishman—this poet and painter +have instinctively felt—and in wandering up and +down Skye you come in contact with this pain, +either fresh or in reminiscence, not unfrequently. +Although the member of his family be years +removed, the Skyeman lives in him imaginatively—just +as the man who has endured an operation is +for ever conscious of the removed limb. And this +horror of emigration—common to the entire +Highlands—has been increased by the fact that it has +not unfrequently been a forceful matter, that potent +landlords have torn down houses and turned out +the inhabitants, have authorised evictions, have +deported the dwellers of entire glens. That the +landlords so acting have not been without grounds +of justification may in all probability be true. +The deported villagers may have been cumberers +of the ground, they may have been unable to pay +rent, they may have been slowly but surely sinking +into pauperism, their prospect of securing a +comfortable subsistence in the colonies may be +considerable, while in their own glens it maybe +nil,—all this may be true; but to have your house +unroofed before your eyes, and made to go on +board a ship bound for Canada, even although +the passage-money be paid for you, is not +pleasant. An obscure sense of wrong is kindled in +heart and brain. It is just possible that what is +for the landlord's interest may be for yours also in +the long run; but you feel that the landlord has +looked after his own interest in the first place. +He wished you away, and he has got you away; +whether you will succeed in Canada is matter of +dubiety. The human gorge rises at this kind of +forceful banishment—more particularly the gorge +of the banished! +</p> + +<p> +When Thursday came, the Landlord drove us +over to Skeabost, at which place, at noon, the +emigrants were to assemble. He told me on the way +that some of the more sterile portions of his +property were over-populated, and that the people +there could no more prosper than trees that +have been too closely planted. He was +consequently a great advocate of emigration. He +maintained that force should never be used, but +advice and persuasion only; that when consent was +obtained, there should be held out a helping hand. +It was his idea that if a man went all the way to +Canada to oblige you, it was but fair that you +should make his journey as pleasant as possible, +and provide him employment, or, at all events, put +him in the way of obtaining it when he got there. +In Canada, consequently, he purchased lands, made +these lands over to a resident relative, and to the +charge of that relative, who had erected houses, and +who had trees to fell, and fields to plough, and +cattle to look after, he consigned his emigrants. +He took care that they were safely placed on +shipboard at Glasgow or Liverpool, and his relative +was in waiting when they arrived. When the +friendly face died on this side of the Atlantic, a +new friendly face dawned on them on the other. +With only one class of tenant was he inclined to +be peremptory. He had no wish to disturb in their +turf hut the old man and woman who had brought +up a family; but when the grown-up son brought +home a wife to the same hut, he was down upon +them, like a severing knife, at once. The young +people could not remain there; they might go +where they pleased; he would rather they would +go to Canada than anywhere, but out of the old +dwelling they must march. And the young people +frequently jumped at the Landlord's offer—labour +and good wages calling sweetly to them from across +the sea. The Landlord had already sent out a +troop of emigrants, of whose condition and prospects +he had the most encouraging accounts, both +from themselves and others, and the second troop +were that day to meet him at Skeabost. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The emigrants. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +When we got to Skeabost there were the +emigrants, to the number perhaps of fifty or sixty, +seated on the lawn. They were dressed as was +their wont on Sundays, when prepared for church. +The men wore suits of blue or gray kelt, the women +were wrapped for the most part in tartan plaids. +They were decent, orderly, intelligent, and on the +faces of most was a certain resolved look, as if +they had carefully considered the matter, and +had made up their minds to go through with it. +They were of every variety of age too; the greater +proportion young men who had long years of +vigorous work in them, who would fell many a tree, +and reap many a field before their joints stiffened: +women, fresh, comely, and strong, not yet mothers, +but who would be grandmothers before their term +of activity was past. In the party, too, was a +sprinkling of middle-aged people, with whom the +world had gone hardly, and who were hoping that +Canada would prove kinder than Skye. They +all rose and saluted the Landlord respectfully as +we drove down toward the house. The porch was +immediately made a hall of audience. The Landlord +sat in a chair, Pen took his seat at the table, +and opened a large scroll-book in which the names +of the emigrants were inscribed. One by one the +people came from the lawn to the porch and made +known their requirements:—a man had not yet +made up his passage-money, and required an +advance; a woman desired a pair of blankets; an old +man wished the Landlord to buy his cow, which was +about to calve, and warranted an excellent milker. +With each of these the Landlord talked sometimes +in Gaelic, more frequently in English; entered into +the circumstances of each, and commended, +rebuked, expostulated, as occasion required. When +an emigrant had finished his story, and made his +bargain with the Landlord, Pen wrote the conditions +thereof against his or her name in the large +scroll-book. The giving of audience began about +noon, and it was evening before it was concluded. +By that time every emigrant had been seen, talked +with, and disposed of. For each the way to +Canada was smoothed, and the terms set down by +Pen in his scroll-book; and each, as he went away +was instructed to hold himself in readiness on the +15th of the following month, for on that day they +were to depart. +</p> + +<p> +When the emigrants were gone we smoked on +the lawn, with the moon rising behind us. Next +morning our party broke up. Fellowes and the +Landlord went off in the mail to Inverness; the +one to resume his legal reading there, the other +to catch the train for London. Pen went to +Bracadale, where he had some business to transact +preparatory to going to Ireland, and I drove in to +Portree to meet the southward-going steamer, for +vacation was over, and my Summer in Skye had +come to an end. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<h3> +<i>HOMEWARDS.</i> +</h3> + +<p> +Life is pleasant, but unfortunately one has +got to die; vacation is delightful, but +unhappily vacations come to an end. Mine had +come to an end; and sitting in the inn at Portree +waiting for the southward-going steamer, I began +to count up my practical and ideal gains, just as +in dirty shillings and half-crowns a cobbler counts +up his of a Saturday night. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Practical and ideal gains. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, I was a gainer in health. +When I came up here a month or two ago I was +tired, jaded, ill at ease. I put spots in the sun, I +flecked the loveliest blue of summer sky with bars +of darkness. I felt the weight of the weary hours. +Each morning called me as a slave-driver calls a +slave. In sleep there was no refreshment, for in +dream the weary day repeated itself yet more +wearily. I was nervous, apprehensive of evil, +irritable—ill, in fact. Now I had the appetite of +an ostrich, I laughed at dyspepsia; I could have +regulated my watch by my pulse; and all the +dusty, book-lettered, and be-cobwebbed chambers +of my brain had been tidied and put to rights by +the fairies Wonder, Admiration, Beauty, Freshness. +Soul and body were braced alike—into them +had gone something of the peace of the hills and +the strength of the sea. I had work to do, and I +was able to enjoy work. Here there was one gain, +very palpable and appreciable. Then by my +wanderings up and down, I had made solitude for +ever less irksome, because I had covered the walls +of my mind with a variety of new pictures. The +poorest man may have a picture-gallery in his +memory which he would not exchange for the +Louvre. In the picture-gallery of my memory +there hung Blaavin, the Cuchullins, Loch +Coruisk, Dunsciach, Duntulm, Lord Macdonald's +deer-forest, Glen Sligachan, and many another place +and scene besides. Here was a gain quite as +palpable and appreciable as the other. The +pictures hung in the still room of memory, and to +them I could turn for refreshment in dull or tedious +hours; and carrying that still room with its pictures +about with me wherever I went, I could enter and +amuse myself at any time—whether waiting at a +station for a laggard train, or sitting under a dull +preacher on a hot Sunday afternoon. Then, again +I had been brought in contact with peculiar +individuals, which is in itself an intellectual stimulus, +in so far as one is continually urged to enter into, +explore, and understand them. What a new +variety of insect is to an entomologist, that a new +variety of man is to one curious in men, who delights +to brood over them, to comprehend them, to distinguish +the shades of difference that exist between +them, and, if possible, sympathetically to be them. +This sympathy enables a man in his lifetime to lead +fifty lives. I don't think in the south I shall ever +find the counterparts of John Kelly, Lachlan Roy, +or Angus-with-the-dogs. I am certain I shall never +encounter a nobler heart than that which has beat +for so long a term in the frame of Mr M'Ian, nor a +wiser or humaner brain than the Landlord's. Even +to have met the tobacco-less man was something +on which speculation could settle. Then, in the +matter of gain, one may fairly count up the being +brought into contact with songs, stories, and +superstitions; for through means of these one obtains +access into the awe and terror that lay at the +heart of that ancient Celtic life which is fast +disappearing now. Old songs illustrate the spiritual +moods of a people, just as old weapons, agricultural +implements, furniture, and domestic dishes, illustrate +the material conditions. I delighted to range +through that spiritual antiquarian museum, and to +take up and examine the bits of human love, and +terror, and hate, that lay fossilised there. All these +things were gains: and waiting at Portree for the +steamer, and thinking over them all, I concluded +that my Summer in Skye had not been misspent; +and that no summer can be misspent anywhere, +provided the wanderer brings with him a quick +eye, an open ear, and a sympathetic spirit. It is +the cunningest harper that draws the sweetest +music from the harp-string; but no musician that +ever played has exhausted all the capacities of his +instrument—there is more to take for him who can +take. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The steamer. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Clansman</i> reached Portree Bay at eleven +P.M., and I went on board at once and went to bed. +When I awoke next morning, the engines were in +full action, and I could hear the rush of the +water past my berth. When I got on deck we +were steaming down the Sound of Raasay; and +when breakfast-time arrived, it needed but a glance +to discover that autumn had come and that the +sporting season was well-nigh over. A lot of +sheep were penned up near the bows, amidships +were piles of wool, groups of pointers and setters +were scattered about, and at the breakfast-table +were numerous sportsmen returning to the south, +whose conversation ran on grouse-shooting, +salmon-fishing, and deer-stalking. While breakfast was +proceeding you saw everywhere sun-browned faces, +heard cheery voices, and witnessed the staying of +prodigious appetites. Before these stalwart +fellows steaks, chops, platefuls of ham and eggs +disappeared as if by magic. The breakfast party, too, +consisted of all orders and degrees of men. There +were drovers going to, or returning from markets; +merchants from Stornoway going south; a couple +of Hebridean clergymen, one of whom said grace; +several military men of frank and hearty bearing; +an extensive brewer; three members of Parliament, +who had entirely recovered from the fatigues of +legislation; and a tall and handsome English Earl of +some repute on the turf. Several ladies, too, dropped +in before the meal was over. We were all hungry, +and fed like Homer's heroes. The brewer was a +valiant trencher-man, and the handsome Earl +entombed cold pie to an extent unprecedented in +my experience. The commissariat on board the +Highland steamers is plentiful and of quality +beyond suspicion; and the conjunction of good +viands, and appetites whetted by the sea-breeze, +results in a play of knife and fork perfectly +wonderful to behold. When breakfast was over we all +went up stairs; the smoking men resorted to the +hurricane deck, the two clergymen read, the +merchants from Stornoway wandered uneasily about +as if seeking some one to whom they could attach +themselves, and the drovers smoked short pipes +amidships, and talked to the passengers there, and +when their pipes were out went forward to +examine the sheep. The morning and forenoon wore +away pleasantly—the great ceremony of dinner +was ahead, and drawing nearer every moment—that +was something—and then there were frequent +stoppages, and the villages on the shore, the +coming and going of boats with cargo and passengers, +the throwing out of empty barrels here, the getting +in of wool there, were incidents quite worthy of +the regard of idle men leading for the time being a +mere life of the senses. We stopped for a couple +of hours in Broadford Bay—we stopped at +Kyleakin—we stopped at Balmacara; and the long +looked-for dinner was served after we had past +Kyle-Rhea, and were gliding down into Glenelg. +For some little time previously savoury steams had +assailed our nostrils. We saw the stewards +descending into the cabin with covered dishes, and at +the first sound of the bell the hurricane deck, +crowded a moment before, was left entirely empty. +The captain took his seat at the head of the table +with a mighty roast before him, the clergyman +said grace—somewhat lengthily, I fear, in the +opinion of most—the covers were lifted away by +deft waiters, and we dined that day at four as if +we had not previously breakfasted at eight, and +lunched at one. Dinner was somewhat protracted; +for as we had nothing to do after the ladies went, +we sat over cheese and wine, and then talk grew +animated over whisky-punch. When I went on +deck again we had passed Knock, and were +steaming straight for Armadale. The Knoydart +hills were on the one side, the low shores of Sleat, +patched here and there by strips of cultivation, on +the other; and in a little we saw the larch +plantations of Armadale, and the castle becoming +visible through the trees on the lawn. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Loch Nevis. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +In autumn the voyage to the south is lengthened +by stoppages, and frequently the steamer has to +leave her direct course and thread long inland +running lochs to take wool on board. These +stoppages and wanderings out of the direct route +would be annoying if you were hurrying south +to be married, or if you were summoned to the +deathbed of a friend from whom you had +expectations; but as it is holiday with you, and +as every divergence brings you into unexpected +scenery, they are regarded rather as a pleasure +than anything else. At Armadale we stayed for +perhaps half an hour, and then struck directly +across the Sound of Sleat, and sailed up the +windings of Loch Nevis. When we reached the top +there was an immense to do-on the beach; some +three or four boats laden with wool were already +pulling out towards the steamer, which immediately +lay to and let off noisy steam; men were tumbling +bales of wool into the empty boats that lay at the +stony pier, and to the pier laden carts were hurrying +down from the farm-house that stood remote. +The wool boats came on either side of the steamer; +doors were opened in the bulwarks, to these doors +steam cranes were wheeled, and with many a shock +of crank and rattle of loosened chain, the bales +were hoisted on deck and consigned to the gloomy +recesses of the hold. As soon as a boat was emptied, +a laden one pulled out to take its place; the +steam cranes were kept continually jolting and +rattling, and in the space of a couple of hours a +considerable amount of business had been done. +On the present occasion the transference of wool +from the boats to the hold of the steamer occupied +a longer time than was usual; sunset had come +in crimson and died away to pale gold and rose, +and still the laden boats came slowly on, still storms +of Gaelic execration surged along the sides of the +ship, and still the steam cranes were at their noisy +work. The whole affair, having by this time lost +all sense of novelty, was in danger of becoming +tiresome, but in the fading light the steward had +lighted up the saloon into hospitable warmth and +glow, and then the bell rang for tea. In a moment +all interest in the wool boats had come to an end, +the passengers hurried below, and before the +tinklings of cup and saucer had ceased, the last +bale of wool had been transferred from the boats +alongside to the hold, and the <i>Clansman</i> had +turned round, and was softly gliding down Loch Nevis. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Arisaig. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +A lovely, transparent autumn night arched +above us, a young moon and single star by her +side, when we reached Arisaig. By this time the +ladies had retired, and those of the gentlemen who +remained on deck were wrapped in plaids, each +shadowy figure brought out more keenly by the +red tip of a cigar. The entrance into Arisaig is +difficult, and the <i>Clansman</i> was put on half steam. +The gentlemen were requested to leave the +hurricane-deck, and there the captain stationed himself, +while a couple of men were sent to the bows, and +three or four stationed at the wheel. Slowly +the large vessel moved onward, with low black reefs +of rocks on either side, like smears of dark colour, +but perfectly soft and tender in outline; and every +here and there we could see the dark top of a rock +peering out of the dim sea like a beaver's head. +From these shadowy reefs, as the vessel moved on, +the sea-birds were awaked from their slumbers, +and strangely sweet, and liquid as flute-notes, were +their cries and signals of alarm. Every now and +again, too, with a sort of weary sigh, a big wave +came heaving in, and broke over the dark reefs in +cataracts of ghostly silver; and in the watery +trouble and movement that followed, the moon +became a well of moving light, and the star a +quivering sword-blade. The captain stood alone on +the hurricane deck, the passengers leaned against +the bulwarks watching rock and sea, and listening +to the call and re-call of disturbed mews, when +suddenly there was a muffled shout from the outlook +at the bows, the captain shouted "Port! port! hard!" +and away went the wheel spinning, the stalwart +fellows toiling at the spokes, and the ship +slowly falling off. After a little while there was +another noise at the bows, the captain shouted +"Starboard!" and the wheel was rapidly reversed. +We were now well up the difficult channel; and +looking back we could see a perfect intricacy of +reefs and dim single rocks behind, and a fading +belt of pallor wandering amongst them, which told +the track of the ship—a dreadful place to be driven +upon on a stormy night, when the whole coast would +be like the mouth of a wounded boar—black tusks +and churning foam. After a while, however, a low +line of coast became visible, then a light broke +upon it; and after a few impatient turns of the +paddles we beheld a dozen boats approaching, with +lights at their bows. These were the Arisaig boats, +laden with cargo. At sight of them the captain left +the hurricane deck, the anchor went away with a +thundering chain, the passengers went to bed, and, +between asleep and awake, I could hear half the +night the trampling of feet, the sound of voices, +and the jolt of the steam-cranes, as the Arisaig +goods were being hoisted on deck and stowed +away. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Ardnamurchan. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +I was up early next morning. The sky was +clear, the wind blowing on shore, and the bright, +living, rejoicing sea came seething in on the rocky +intricacies through which we slowly sailed. Skye +was perfectly visible, the nearer shores dark and +green; farther back the dim Cuchullins, standing in +the clouds. Eig rose opposite, with its curiously-shaped +sciur; Muck lay ahead. The <i>Clansman</i> soon +reached the open sea, and we began to feel the +impulse of the Atlantic. By the time the passengers +began to appear on deck the ship was lurching +heavily along towards the far-stretching headland +of Ardnamurchan. It was difficult to keep one's feet +steady—more difficult to keep steady one's brain. +Great glittering watery mounds came heaving on, +to wash with unavailing foam the rocky coast; and +amongst these the steamer rolled and tossed and +groaned, its long dark pennon of smoke streaming +with the impulse of the sea. The greater proportion +of the passengers crawled amidships—beside +the engines and the cook's quarters, which were +redolent with the scent of herrings frying for a +most unnecessary breakfast—for there the motion +was least felt. To an unhappy landsman that +morning the whole world seemed topsy-turvy. +There was no straight line to be discovered +anywhere; everything seemed to have changed places. +Now you beheld the steersman against the sky +on the crest of an airy acclivity, now one bulwark +was buried in surge, now the other, and anon +the sheep at the bows were brought out against a +foamy cataract. But with all this turmoil and +dancing and rolling, the <i>Clansman</i> went swiftly +on, and in due time we were off the Ardnamurchan +lighthouse. Here we rolled and tossed in an +unpleasant manner,—the smitten foam springing +to the top of the rocks and falling back in snowy +sheets,—and seemed to make but little progress. +Gradually, however, the lighthouse began to draw +slowly behind us, slowly we rounded the rocky +buttress, slowly the dark shores of Mull drew out +to sea, and in a quarter of an hour, with dripping +decks and giddy brains, we had passed from the +great bright heave and energy of the Atlantic to +the quiet waters of Loch Sunart; and, sheltered by +Mull, were steaming towards Tobermory. +</p> + +<p> +The first appearance of Tobermory is prepossessing; +but further acquaintance is if possible to +be eschewed. As the <i>Clansman</i> steams into the +bay, the little town, with its half circle of white +houses, backed by hill terraces on which pretty +villas are perched, and flanked by sombre pine +plantations, is a pleasant picture, and takes heart +and eye at once. As you approach, however, your +admiration is lessened, and when you go ashore +quite obliterated. It has a "most ancient and +fish-like smell," and all kinds of refuse float in the +harbour. Old ocean is a scavenger at Tobermory, +and is as dirty in his habits as Father Thames +himself. The houses look pretty and clean when +seen from the steamer's deck, but on a nearer +view they deteriorate and become squalid, and +several transform themselves into small inns, +suggestive of the worst accommodation and the +fiercest alcohol. The steamer is usually detained +at Tobermory for a couple of hours, and during all +that time there is a constant noise of lading and +unlading. You become tired of the noise and +tumult, and experience a sense of relief when +steam is got up again, and with much backing and +turning and churning of dirty harbour water into +questionable foam, the large vessel works its way +through the difficult channel, and slides calmly +down the Sound of Mull. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Sound of Mull. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Gliding down that magnificent Sound, the "Lord +of the Isles" is in your memory, just as the "Lady +of the Lake" is in your memory at Loch Katrine. +The hours float past in music. All the scenes of +the noble poem rise in vision before you. You +pass the entrance to the beautiful Loch Aline; you +pass Ardtornish Castle on the Morven shore, where +the Lords of the Isles held their rude parliaments +and discussed ways and means; while opposite, +Mull draws itself grandly back into lofty +mountains. Further down you see Duart Castle, with +the rock peering above the tide, on which Maclean +exposed his wife—a daughter of Argyle's—to the +throttling of the waves. After passing Duart, Mull +trends away to the right, giving you a space of +open sun-bright sea, while on the left the Linnhe +Loch stretches toward Fort-William and Ben +Nevis. Straight before you is the green +Lismore—long a home of Highland learning—and passing +it, while the autumn day is wearing towards +afternoon, you reach Oban, sheltered from western +waves by the island of Kerrera. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The passengers. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The longest delay during the passage is at +Oban, but then we had dinner there, which helped +to kill the time in a pleasant way. The <i>Clansman</i> +had received a quantity of cargo at Tobermory, +at Loch Aline a flock of sheep were driven on +board, goods were taken in plentifully at other +places in the Sound at which we touched, and +when we had received all the stuffs waiting for +us at Oban, the vessel was heavily laden. The +entire steerage deck was a bellowing and bleating +mass of black cattle and sheep, each "parcel" +divided from the other by temporary barriers. +The space amidships was a chaos of barrels and +trunks and bales of one kind or another, and +amongst these the steerage passengers were forced +to dispose themselves. Great piles of wooden +boxes containing herring were laid along the cabin +deck, so that if a man were disposed to walk about +it behoved him to take care of his footsteps. But +who cared! We were away from Oban now, the +wind was light, the sun setting behind us, and the +bell ringing for tea. It was the last meal we were +to have together, and through some consciousness +of this the ice of reserve seemed to melt, and the +passengers to draw closer to each other. The +Hebridean clergymen unbent; the handsome earl +chatted to his neighbours as if his forehead had +never known the golden clasp of the coronet; the +sporting men stalked their stags over again; the +members of Parliament discussed every subject +except the affairs of the nation; the rich brewer +joked; the merchants from Stornoway laughed +immoderately; while the cattle-dealers listened +with awe. Tea was prolonged after this pleasant +fashion, and then, while the Stornoway merchants +and the cattle-dealers solaced themselves with a +tumbler of punch, the majority of the other passengers +went up stairs to the hurricane deck to smoke. +What a boon is tobacco to the modern Englishman! +It stands in place of wife, child, profession, +and the interchange of ideas. With a pipe in your +mouth indifference to your neighbour is no longer +churlish, and silent rumination becomes the most +excellent companionship. The English were never +very great talkers, but since Sir Walter Raleigh +introduced the Virginian weed they have talked less +than ever. Smoking parliaments are always silent—and +as in silence there is wisdom, they are perhaps +more effective than the talking ones. Mr +Carlyle admired those still smoke-wreathed +Prussian assemblies of Frederick's, and I am +astonished that he does not advocate the use of the +weed in our English Witenagemote. Slowly the +night fell around the smokers, the stars came out +in the soft sky, as the air grew chill, and one by +one they went below. Then there was more +toddy-drinking, some playing at chess, one or two +attempts at letter-writing, and at eleven o'clock +the waiters cleared the tables, and began to +transform the saloon into a large sleeping apartment. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Mull of Cantyre. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +I climbed up to my berth and fell comfortably +asleep. I must have been asleep for several hours, +although of the lapse of time I was of course +unconscious, when gradually the horror of nightmare +fell upon me. This horror was vague and +formless at first, but gradually it assumed a +definite shape. I was Mazeppa, they had bound me +on the back of the desert-born, and the mighty +brute, maddened with pain and terror, was tearing +along the wilderness, crashing through forests, +plunging into streams, with the howling of +wolves close behind and coming ever nearer. At +last, when the animal cleared a ravine at a +bound, I burst the bondage of my dream. For +a moment I could not understand where I +was. The sleeping apartment seemed to have +fallen on one side, then it righted itself, but only +to fall over on the other, then it made a wild +plunge forward as if it were a living thing and had +received a lash. The ship was labouring heavily, +I heard the voices of the sailors flying in the wind, +I felt the shock of solid, and the swish of broken +seas. In such circumstances sleep, for me at least, +was impossible, so I slipped out of bed, and, +steadying myself for a favourable moment, made +a grab at my clothes. With much difficulty I +dressed, with greater difficulty I got into my +boots, and then I staggered on deck. Holding on +by the first support, I was almost blinded by the +glare of broken seas. From a high coast against +which the great waves rushed came the steady +glare of a lighthouse, and by that token I knew +we were "on" the Mull of Cantyre. The ship +was fuming through a mighty battle of tides. +Shadowy figures of steerage passengers were to +be seen clinging here and there. One—a young +woman going to Glasgow as a housemaid, as she +afterwards told me—was in great distress, was +under the impression that we were all going to the +bottom, and came to me for comfort. I quieted +her as best I could, and procured her a seat. Once +when the ship made a wild lurch, and a cloud of +spray came flying over the deck, she exclaimed to +a sailor who was shuffling past wearing a sou'-wester +and canvas overalls, "O sailor, is't ever sae +bad as this?" "As bad as this," said the worthy, +poising himself on the unsteady deck, "as bad as +this! Lod, ye sud jist a seen oor last vi'age. +There was only three besides mysel o' the ship's +crew able to haud on by a rape." Delivering +himself of this scrap of dubious comfort, the sailor +shuffled onward. Happily the turmoil was not of +long duration. In an hour we had rounded the +formidable Mull, had reached comparatively smooth +water, and with the lights of Campbelton behind +the pallid glare of furnaces seen afar on the +Ayrshire coast, and the morning beginning to pencil +softly the east, I went below again, and slept till +we reached Greenock. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> + +<h3> +<i>GLASGOW.</i> +</h3> + +<p> +The idea of Glasgow in the ordinary British +mind is probably something like the +following:—"Glasgow, believed by the natives to be the +second city of the empire, is covered by a smoky +canopy through which rain penetrates, but which +is impervious to sunbeam. It is celebrated for +every kind of industrial activity: it is fervent in +business six days of the week, and spends the +seventh in hearing sermon and drinking toddy. +Its population consists of a great variety of classes. +The 'operative,' quiet and orderly enough while +plentifully supplied with provisions, becomes a +Chartist when hungry, and extracts great satisfaction +in listening to orators—mainly from the Emerald +Isle—declaiming against a bloated aristocracy. +The 'merchant prince,' known to all ends of the +earth, and subject sometimes to strange vagaries; +at one moment he is glittering away cheerily in +the commercial heaven, the next he has +disappeared, like the lost Pleiad, swallowed up of night +for ever. The history of Glasgow may be summed +up in one word—cotton; its deity, gold; its river, +besung by poets, a sewer; its environs, dust and +ashes; the <i>gamin</i> of its wynds and closes less +tinctured by education than a Bosjesman; a creature +that has never heard a lark sing save perhaps in a +cage outside a window in the sixth story, where a +consumptive seamstress is rehearsing the 'Song of +the Shirt,' 'the swallows with their sunny backs' +omitted." Now this idea of Glasgow is entirely +wrong. It contains many cultivated men and +women. It is the seat of an ancient university. Its +cathedral is the noblest in Scotland; and its statue +of Sir John Moore the finest statue in the empire. It +is not in itself an ugly city, and it has many historical +associations. Few cities are surrounded by prettier +scenery; and of late years it has produced two +books—both authors dead now—one of which mirrors +the old hospitable, social life of the place, while +the other pleasantly sketches the interesting localities +in its neighbourhood. Dr Strang, in his "Clubs +of Glasgow," brings us in contact with the old jolly +times; and Mr Macdonald, in his "Rambles round +Glasgow," visits, stick in hand, every spot of +interest to be found for miles around, knows every +ruin and its legend, can tell where each unknown +poet has lived and died, and has the martyrology +of the district at his fingers' ends. So much for +the books; and now a word or two concerning their +authors. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Dr Strang. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Dr Strang was long chamberlain to the city of +Glasgow; for more than half a century he saw +it growing around him, increasing in population, +wealth, and political importance, as during the +same period no other British city had increased; +and as he knew everything concerning that growth, +he not unnaturally took in it the deepest pride. +He could remember the old times, the old families, +the old buildings, the old domestic habits; and +when well-stricken in years, it pleased him to recall +the matters which he remembered, and to contrast +them with what he saw on every side. I think +that on the whole he preferred the old Glasgow +of his boyhood to the new Glasgow of his age. +All his life he had a turn for literature; in his +earlier day he had written stories and sketches, in +which he mirrored as vividly as he could the older +aspects of the city; and as, along with this turn for +writing, he had that antiquarian taste which has +been a characteristic of almost every distinguished +Scotsman since Sir Walter, while his years and +his official position gave him opportunities of +gratifying it, he knew Glasgow almost as well as the +oldest inhabitant, who has been a bailie and +cognisant of all secrets, knows his native village. +He was an admirable <i>cicerone</i>; his mind was +continually pacing up and down the local last +century, knowing every person he met as he knew +his contemporary acquaintances; and when he +spoke of the progress of Glasgow, he spoke +proudly, as if he were recounting the progress of +his own son. +<span class="sidenote"> +Glasgow clubs. +</span> +During the last years of his life, it +struck him that he might turn his local knowledge +to account. The Doctor was a humorist; he was +fond of anecdote, had a very proper regard for +good eating and drinking; he remembered +regretfully the rum-punch of his youth, and he was +deeply versed in the histories of the Glasgow Clubs. +In a happy hour, it occurred to him that if he told the +story of those clubs—described the professors, the +merchants, the magistrates, the local bigwigs, the +clergymen, the rakes, who composed their +memberships—he would go to the very core and essence +of old Glasgow Society; while in the course of his +work he would find opportunities of using what +antiquarian knowledge he had amassed concerning +old houses, old social habits, the state of trade at +different periods, and the like. The idea was a +happy one; the Doctor set to work valiantly, and +in course of time in a spacious volume, with +suitable index and appendix, the "Clubs of Glasgow" +was before the world. Never, perhaps, has so good +a book been so badly written. The book is interesting, +but interesting in virtue of the excellence +of the material, not of the literary execution. Yet, +on the whole, it may fairly be considered sufficient. +You open its pages, and step from the Present +into the Past. You are in the Trongate, through +which Prince Charles has just ridden. You see +Virginian merchants pacing to and fro with +scarlet cloaks and gold-headed sticks; you see belle +and beau walk a minuet in the Old Assembly-Room; +you see flushed Tom and Jerry lock an +asthmatic "Charlie" in his sentry-box, and roll +him down a declivity into the river—all gone long +ago, like the rum-punch which they brewed, like +the limes with which they flavoured it! +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Hugh Macdonald. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Mr Macdonald is Dr Strang's antithesis, and yet +his complement. The one worked in antiquarianism +and statistics; the other in antiquarianism and +poetry. The one loved the old houses, the old +hedges, the old churchyards within the city; the +other loved these things without the city and miles +away from it—and so between them both we have +the district very fairly represented. Mr Macdonald +was a man of genius, a song-writer, an antiquary, +a devout lover of beast and bird, of snowdrop +and lucken-gowan, of the sun setting on Bothwell +Bank, of the moon shining down on Clydesdale +barley fields. He was in his degree one of those +poets who have, since Burns's time, made nearly +every portion of Scotland vocal. Just as Tannahill +has made Gleniffer hills greener by his songs, +as Thorn of Inverury has lent a new interest to the +banks of the Dee, as Scott Riddell has added a +note to the Border Minstrelsy, has Mr Macdonald +taken poetic possession of the country around +Glasgow. Neither for him nor for any of his +compeers can the title of great poet be claimed. +These men are local poets; but if you know and +love the locality, you thankfully accept the songs +with which they have associated them. If the +scenery of a shire is gentle, it is fitting that the +poet of the shire should possess a genius to match. +Great scenes demand great poems; simple scenes, +simple ones. Coleridge's hymn in the Vale of +Chamouni is a noble performance, but out of +place if uttered in a Lanarkshire glen where sheep +are feeding, and where you may search the +horizon in vain for an elevation of five hundred +feet. Mr Macdonald could not have approached +Coleridge's hymn had he been placed in Chamouni; +but he has done justice to the scenery that +surrounded him—made the ivies of Crookston more +sombre with his verse, and yet more splendid +the westward-running Clyde in which the sun is +setting. +</p> + +<p> +He was one of those, too—of whom Scotchmen +are specially proud—who, born in humble circumstances, +and with no aid from college, and often +but little from school, do achieve some positive +literary result, and recognition more or less for the +same. He was born in one of the eastern districts +</p> + +<p> +of Glasgow, lived for some time in the Island of +Mull, in the house of a relative—for, as his name +imports, he was a pure Celt—and from his sires he +drew song, melancholy, and superstition. The +superstition he never could completely shake off. +He could laugh at a ghost story, could deck it +out with grotesque or humorous exaggeration; but +the central terror glared upon him through all +disguises, and, hearing or relating, his blood was +running chill the while. Returning to his native +city, he was entered an apprentice in a public +manufactory, and here it was—fresh from ruined +castle, mist folding on the Morven Hills, tales told +by mountain shepherd or weather-beaten fisherman +of corpse lights glimmering on the sea; with +English literature in which to range and take +delight in golden shreds of leisure; and with +everything, past Highland experience and present dim +environment, beginning to be overspread by the +"purple light of love"—that Mr Macdonald became +a poet. Considering the matter now, it may +be said that his circumstances were not unfavourable +to the development of the poetic spirit. +<span class="sidenote"> +Glasgow poets. +</span> +Glasgow +at the period spoken of could boast of her +poets. Dugald Moore was writing odes to "Earthquake" +and "Eclipse," and getting quizzed by his +companions. Motherwell, the author of "Jeanie +Morrison," was editor of the <i>Courier</i>, and in its +columns fighting manfully against Reform. +Alexander Rodger, who disgusted Sir Walter by the +publication of a wicked and witty welcome—singular +in likeness and contrast to the Magician's own—on +the occasion of the visit of his gracious Majesty +George IV. to Edinburgh, was filling the newspapers +of the west with satirical verses, and getting +himself into trouble thereby. Nay, more, this +same Alexander Rodger, either then or at a later +period, held a post in the manufactory in which +Mr Macdonald was apprentice. Nor was the eye +without education, or memory without associations +to feed upon. Before the door of this manufactory +stood Glasgow Green, the tree yet putting +forth its leaves under which Prince Charles stood +when he reviewed his shoeless Highland host +before marching to Falkirk. Near the window, and +to be seen by the boy every time he lifted his +head from work, flowed the Clyde, bringing recollections +of the red ruins of Bothwell Castle, where +the Douglases dwelt, and the ivy-muffled walls of +Blantyre Priory where the monks prayed; carrying +imagination with it as it flowed seaward to +Dumbarton Castle, with its Ossianic associations, +and recalling, as it sank into ocean, the night when +Bruce from his lair in Arran watched the beacon +broadening on the Carrick shore. And from the +same windows, looking across the stream, he could +see the long straggling burgh of Rutherglen, with +the church tower which saw the bargain struck +with Menteith for the betrayal of Wallace, +standing eminent above the trees. And when we know +that the girl who was afterwards to become his +wife was growing up there, known and loved at the +time, one can fancy how often his eyes dwelt on +the little town, with church tower and chimney, +fretting the sky-line. And when he rambled—and +he always <i>did</i> ramble—inevitably deeper impulses +would come to him. Northward from Glasgow +a few miles, at Rob Royston, where Wallace +was betrayed, lived Walter Watson, whose songs +have been sung by many who never heard his +name. Seven miles southward from the city lay +Paisley in its smoke, and beyond that, Gleniffer +Braes—scarcely changed since Tannahill walked +over them on summer evenings. +<span class="sidenote"> +A poetic education. +</span> +South-east +stretched the sterile district of the Mearns, with +plovers, and heather, and shallow, glittering lakes; +and beyond, in a green crescent embracing the +sea, lay a whole Ayrshire, fiery and full of +Burns, every stock and stone passionate with +him, his daisy blooming in every furrow, every +stream as it ran seaward mourning for Highland +Mary—and when night fell, in every tavern +in the county the blithest lads in Christendie +sitting over their cups, and flouting the horned +moon hanging in the window pane. And then, +to complete a poetic education, there was +Glasgow herself—black river flowing between two +glooms of masts—the Trongate's all-day roar of +traffic, and at night the faces of the hurrying crowds +brought out keenly for a moment in the light of +the shop windows—the miles of stony streets, with +statues in the squares and open spaces—the grand +Cathedral, filled once with Popish shrines and +rolling incense, on one side of the ravine, and on +the other, John Knox on his pillar, impeaching +it with outstretched arm that clasps a Bible. And +ever as the darkness came, the district north-east +and south of the city was filled with shifting glare +and gloom of furnace fires; instead of night and its +privacy, the splendour of towering flame brought +to the inhabitants of the eastern and southern +streets a fluctuating scarlet day, piercing nook and +cranny as searchingly as any sunlight—making a +candle needless to the housewife as she darned +stockings for the children, and turning to a perfect +waste of charm, the blush on a sweetheart's +cheek. With all these things around him, Mr +Macdonald set himself sedulously to work, and +whatever may be the value of his poetic wares, +plenty of excellent material lay around him on +every side. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Hugh Macdonald. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +To him all these things had their uses. He had +an excellent literary digestion, capable of extracting +nutriment from the toughest materials. He +assiduously made acquaintance with English literature +in the evenings, gradually taking possession of +the British essayists, poets, and historians. During +this period, too, he cherished republican feelings, +and had his own speculations concerning the +regeneration of the human race. At this time the +splendid promise of Chartism made glorious the +horizon, and Macdonald, like so many of his class, +conceived that the "five pints" were the +<i>avant-couriers</i> of the millennium. For him, in a very +little while, Chartism went out like a theatrical +sun. He no longer entertained the idea that he +could to any perceptible extent aid in the regeneration +of the race. Indeed, it is doubtful whether, +in his latter days, he cared much whether the race +would ever be regenerated. Man was a rascal, +had ever been a rascal, and a rascal he would +remain till the end of the chapter. He was willing +to let the world wag, certified that the needful +thing was to give regard to his own private +footsteps. His own personal hurt made him forget +the pained world. He was now fairly embarked +on the poetic tide. His name, appended to copies +of verses, frequently appeared in the local prints, +and gained no small amount of local notice. At +intervals some song-bird of his brain of stronger +pinion or gayer plumage than usual would flit from +newspaper to newspaper across the country; nay, +several actually appeared beyond the Atlantic, +and, not unnoticed by admiring eyes, perched on a +broadsheet here and there, as they made their way +from the great cities towards the Western clearings. +All this time, too, he was an enthusiastic botanist +in book and field, a lover of the open country and +the blowing wind, a scorner of fatigue, ready any +Saturday afternoon when work was over for a walk +of twenty miles, if so be he might look on a rare +flower or an ivied ruin. And the girl living over +in Rutherglen was growing up to womanhood, each +charm of mind and feature celebrated for many a +year in glowing verse; and her he, poet-like, +married—the household plenishing of the pair, love and +hope, and a disregard of inconveniences arising +from straitened means. The happiest man in the +world—but a widower before the year was out! +With his wife died many things, all buried in one +grave. Republican dreamings and schemes for the +regeneration of the world faded after that. Here is +a short poem, full of the rain cloud and the yellow +leaf, which has reference to his feelings at the time— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Gorgeous are thy woods, October!<br> + Clad in glowing mantles sear;<br> + Brightest tints of beauty blending<br> + Like the west, when day's descending,<br> + Thou'rt the sunset of the year.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Fading flowers are thine, October!<br> + Droopeth sad the sweet blue-bell;<br> + Gone the blossoms April cherish'd—<br> + Violet, lily, rose, all perish'd—<br> + Fragrance fled from field and dell.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Songless are thy woods, October!<br> + Save when redbreast's mournful lay<br> + Through the calm gray morn is swelling,<br> + To the list'ning echoes telling<br> + Tales of darkness and decay.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Saddest sounds are thine, October!<br> + Music of the falling leaf<br> + O'er the pensive spirit stealing,<br> + To its inmost depths revealing:<br> + 'Thus all gladness sinks in grief.'<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "I do love thee, drear October!<br> + More than budding, blooming Spring—<br> + Hers is hope, delusive smiling,<br> + Trusting hearts to grief beguiling;<br> + Mem'ry loves thy dusky wing.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Joyous hearts may love the summer,<br> + Bright with sunshine, song, and flower;<br> + But the heart whose hopes are blighted,<br> + In the gloom of woe benighted,<br> + Better loves thy kindred bower.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "'Twas in thee, thou sad October!<br> + Death laid low my bosom flower.<br> + Life hath been a wintry river,<br> + O'er whose ripple gladness never<br> + Gleameth brightly since that hour.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Hearts would fain be with their treasure,<br> + Mine is slumb'ring in the clay;<br> + Wandering here alone, uncheery,<br> + Deem 't not strange this heart should weary<br> + For its own October day."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The greater proportion of Mr Macdonald's poems +first saw the light in the columns of the <i>Glasgow +Citizen</i>, then, as now, conducted by Mr James +Heddenvick, an accomplished journalist, and a +poet of no mean order. The casual connexion of +contributor and editor ripened into friendship, and +in 1849, Mr Macdonald was permanently engaged +as Mr Hedderwick's sub-editor. He was now +occupied in congenial tasks, and a gush of song +followed this accession of leisure and opportunity. +Sunshine and the scent of flowers seemed to have +stolen into the weekly columns. You "smelt the +meadow" in casual paragraph and in leading article. +The <i>Citizen</i> not only kept its eye on Louis +Napoleon and the Czar, it paid attention to the +building of the hedge-sparrow's nest, and the +blowing of the wild flower as well. +</p> + +<p> +Still more to prose than to verse did Mr Macdonald +at this time direct his energies; and he was +happy enough to encounter a subject exactly suited +to his powers and mental peculiarities. He was +the most uncosmopolitan of mortals. He had the +strongest local attachments. In his eyes, Scotland +was the fairest portion of the planet; Glasgow, the +fairest portion of Scotland; and Bridgeton—the district +of the city in which he dwelt—the fairest portion +of Glasgow. He would have shrieked like a mandrake +at uprootal. He never would pass a night +away from home. But he loved nature—and the +snowdrop called him out of the smoke to Castle +Milk, the lucken-gowan to Kenmure, the craw-flower +to Gleniffer. His heart clung to every ruin in the +neighbourhood like the ivy. He was learned in +epitaphs, and spent many an hour in village churchyards +in extracting sweet and bitter thoughts from +the half-obliterated inscriptions. Jaques, Isaak +Walton, and Old Mortality, in one, he knew +Lanarkshire, Renfrewshire, and Ayrshire by heart. +Keenly sensible to natural beauty, full of +antiquarian knowledge, and in possession of a prose +style singularly quaint, picturesque, and humorous, +he began week, by week, in the columns of the +<i>Citizen</i>, the publication of his "Rambles Round +Glasgow." City people were astonished to learn that +the country beyond the smoke was far from prosaic—that +it had its traditions, its antiquities, its historical +associations, its glens and waterfalls worthy +of special excursions. These sketches were afterwards +collected, and ran, in their separate and more +convenient form, through two editions. No sooner +were the "Rambles" completed than he projected a +new series of sketches, entitled, "Days at the +Coast"—sketches which also appeared in the columns +of a weekly newspaper. Mr Macdonald's best +writing is to be found in this book—several of the +descriptive passages being really notable in their +way. As we read, the Firth of Clyde glitters +before us, with white villages sitting on the green +shores: Bute and the twin Cumbraes are asleep in +sunshine; while beyond, a stream of lustrous +vapour is melting on the grisly Arran peaks. The +publication of these sketches raised the reputation +of their author, and, like the others, they received +the honour of collection, and a separate issue. +But little more has to be said concerning his +literary activity. The early afternoon was setting in. +During the last eighteen months of his life he was +engaged on one of the Glasgow morning journals; +and when in its columns he rambled as of yore, it +was with a comparatively infirm step, and an eye +that had lost its interest and lustre. "Nature +never did betray the heart that loved her;" and +when the spring-time came, Macdonald, remembering +all her former sweetness, journeyed to +Castle Milk to see the snowdrops—for there, of all +their haunts in the west, they come earliest and +linger latest. It was a dying visit, an eternal +farewell. Why have I written of this man so? +Because he had the knack of making friends of all +with whom he came into contact, and it was my +fortune to come into more frequent and more +intimate contact with him than most. He was neither +a great man nor a great poet—in the ordinary senses +of these terms—but since his removal there are +perhaps some half-dozen persons in the world who feel +that the "strange superfluous glory of the air" +lacks something, and that because an eye and an +ear are gone, the colour of the flower is duller, the +song of the bird less sweet, than in a time they +can remember. +</p> + +<p> +Both Dr Strang and Mr Macdonald have written +about Glasgow, and by their aid we shall be able +to see something of the city and its surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Early history of Glasgow. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The history of the city, from the period of St +Mungo to the commercial crisis in 1857 and the +fall of the Western Bank, presents many points of +interest. Looking back some thirteen centuries +into the gray morning-light of time, we see St +Mungo led by an angel, establishing himself on +the banks of the Molendinar, and erecting a rude +chapel or oratory. There for many summers and +winters he prayed his prayers, sung his aves, and +wrought his miracles. The fame of his sanctity +spread far and wide, and many pilgrims came to +converse with, and be counselled by, the holy man. +In process of time—the prayers of the saint proving +wondrously efficacious, and the Clyde flowing +through the lower grounds at a little distance being +populous with salmon—people began to gather, and +a score or so of wooden huts, built on the river bank, +was the beginning of the present city. In 1197 +the cathedral was consecrated by a certain Bishop +Jocelyn, and from thence, on to the Reformation, +its affairs continued in a prosperous condition; its +revenues, taking into consideration the poverty of +the country and the thinness of the population, +were considerable; and its bishops were frequently +men of ambition and of splendid tastes. Its +interior was enriched by many precious relics. On +days of high festival, the Lord Bishop and his +officials, clad in costly vestments, entered by the +great western door, and as the procession swept +onward to the altar, incense fumed from swinging +censers, the voices of the choir rose in rich and +solemn chanting, the great organ burst on the ear +with its multitudinous thunders, and rude human +hearts were bowed to the ground with contrition, +or rose in surges of sound to heaven in ecstasy. +Glasgow, too, is closely connected with Wallace. +The Bell o' the Brae saw the flash of his sword as +the Southrons fled before him. At the kirk of +Rutherglen, Sir John Menteith and Sir Aymer de +Vallance met to plan the capture of the hero: and +at Rob Royston the deed of shame was consummated. +Menteith, with sixty followers, surrounded +the house in which Wallace slept. Traitors were +already within. His weapons were stolen. Kierly, +his servant, was slain. According to Blind Harry, +at the touch of a hand Wallace sprung up—a lion +at bay. He seized an oaken stool—the only +weapon of offence within reach—and at a blow broke +one rascal's back, in a second splashed the wall +with the blood and brains of another, when the +whole pack threw themselves upon him, bore him +down by sheer weight, and secured him. He +was conveyed to Dumbarton, then held by the +English, and from thence was delivered into the +hands of Edward. The battle of Langside was +fought in the vicinity of the city. Moray, lying in +Glasgow, intercepted Mary on her march from +Hamilton to Dumbarton, and gave battle. Every +one knows the issue. For sixty miles without +drawing rein the queen fled towards England and +a scaffold. Moray returned to Glasgow through +the village of Gorbals, his troopers, it is said, wiping +their bloody swords on the manes of their horses +as they rode, and went thence to meet his assassin +in Linlithgow town. During the heat and frenzy +of the Reformation, nearly all our ecclesiastical +edifices went to the ground, or came out of the +fierce trial with interiors pillaged, altars desecrated, +and the statues of apostles and saints broken or +defaced. Glasgow Cathedral was assailed like the +rest; already the work of destruction had begun, +when the craftsmen of the city came to the rescue. +Their exertions on that occasion preserved the +noble building for us. They were proud of it then; +they are proud of it to-day. During the persecution, +the country to the west of Glasgow was +overrun by dragoons, and many a simple Covenanter +had but short shrift—seized, tried, condemned, +shot, in heaven, within the hour. The +rambler is certain to encounter, not only in village +churchyards, but by the wayside, or in the hearts +of solitary moors, familiar but with the sunbeam +and the cry of the curlew, rude martyr stones, +their sculptures and letters covered with lichen, +and telling with difficulty the names of the sufferers +and the manner of their deaths, and intimating +that— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "This stone shall witness be<br> + 'Twixt Presbyterie and Prelacie."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Prince Charles. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The next striking event in the history of the city +is the visit of Prince Charles. Enter on the Christmas +week of 1745-46 the wild, foot-sore, Highland +host on its flight from Derby. How the sleek +citizens shrink back from the worn, hairy faces, and +fierce eyes in which the lights of plunder burn. "The +Prince, the Prince! which is the Prince?" "That's +he—yonder—wi' the lang yellow hair." Onward +rides, pale and dejected, the throne-haunted man. +He looks up as he catches a fair face at a window, +and you see he inherits the Stuart smile and the +Stuart eye. He, like his fathers, will provoke the +bitterest hatred, and be served by the wildest +devotion. Men will gladly throw away their lives +for him. The blood of nobles will redden scaffolds +for him. Shepherds and herdsmen will dare death +to shelter him; and beautiful women will bend +over his sleep—wrapped in clansman's plaid on +bed of heather or bracken—to clip but one shred +of his yellow hair, and feel thereby requited for all +that they and theirs have suffered in his behalf. +But with all his beauty and his misfortunes, +his appearance in Glasgow created little enthusiasm. +He scarcely gained a recruit. Only a few +ladies donned in his honour white breast-knots and +ribbons. He levied a heavy contribution on the +inhabitants. A prince at the head of an army in +want of brogues, and who insisted on being +provided with shoe-leather gratis, was hardly calculated +to excite the admiration of prudent Glasgow +burgesses. He did not remain long. The Green +beheld for one day the far-stretching files and +splendour of the Highland war, on the next—in unpaid +shoe-leather—he marched to his doom. Victory, +like a stormy sunbeam, burned for a moment +on his arms at Falkirk, and then all was closed +in blood and thunder on Culloden Moor. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Glasgow Clubs. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +It is about this period that Dr Strang's book on +the "Clubs" begins. In those old, hospitable, +hard-drinking days, Glasgow seems to have been +pre-eminently a city of clubs. Every street had its +tavern, and every tavern had its club. There were +morning clubs, noon-day clubs, evening clubs, and +all-day clubs, which, like the sacred fire, never +went out. The club was a sanctuary wherein +nestled friendship and enjoyment. The member +left his ordinary life outside the door, like his +greatcoat, and put it on again when he went away. +Within the genial circle of the club were redressed +all the ills that flesh is heir to: the lover forgot +Nerissa's disdain, the debtor felt no longer his +creditor's eye. At the sight of the boon companions, +Care packed up his bundles and decamped, or if he +dared remain, he was immediately laid hold of, +plunged into the punch-bowl, and there was an +end of him for that night at least. Unhappily +those clubs are dead, but as their ghosts troop +past in Dr Strang's pages, the sense is delicately +taken by an odour of rum-punch. +<span class="sidenote"> +The Anderston Club. +</span> +Shortly after +the Pretender's visit to the city, the Anderston +Club—so called from its meetings being held in +that little village—flourished, drank its punch, and +cracked its jokes on Saturday afternoons. Perhaps +no club connected with the city, before or +since, could boast of a membership so distinguished. +It comprised nearly all the University +professors. Dr Moore, professor of Greek; Professor +Ross, who faithfully instilled the knowledge +of Humanities into the Glasgow youth; Drs Cullen +and Hamilton, medical teachers of eminence; +Adam Smith; the Brothers Foulis—under whose +auspices the first Fine-Art Academy was established +in Scotland, and from whose printing-press +the Greek and Roman classics were issued with a +correctness of text and beauty of typography which +had then no parallel in the kingdom—were regular +and zealous members. But the heart and soul +of the Anderston Club seems to have been Dr +Simson, professor of mathematics. His heart +vibrated to the little hostelry of Anderston as the +needle vibrates to the pole. He could have found +his way with his eyes shut. The following story, +related of the professor by Dr Strang, is not +unamusing in itself, and a fair specimen of the +piebald style in which the greater portion of the book +is written:— +</p> + +<p> +"The mathematician ever made it a rule to +throw algebra and arithmetic 'to the dogs,' save +in so far as to discover the just <i>quadratic equation</i> +and <i>simple division</i> of a bowl of punch. One +thing alone in the club he brought his mathematics +to bear upon, and that was his glass. This +had been constructed on the truest principles of +geometry for emptying itself easily, the stalk +requiring to form but a very acute angle with the +open lips ere its whole contents had dropped into +the æsophagus. One fatal day, however, Girzy, +the black-eyed and dimple-cheeked servant of the +hostelry, in making arrangements for the meeting +of the club, allowed this favourite piece of crystal, +as many black and blue eyed girls have done +before and since, to slip from her fingers and be +broken. She knew the professor's partiality for +his favourite beaker, and thought of getting +another; but the day was too far spent, and the +Gallowgate, then the receptacle of such luxuries, was +too far distant to procure one for that day's meeting +of the fraternity. Had Verreville, the city of +glass, been then where it has since stood, the +mathematician's placid temper might not have been +ruffled, nor might Girzy have found herself in so +disagreeable a dilemma. The club met, the +hen-broth smoked in every platter, the few standard +dishes disappeared, the <i>medoc</i> was sipped, and was +then succeeded, as usual, by a goodly-sized +punch-bowl. The enticing and delicious compound was +mixed, tasted, and pronounced nectar: the professor, +dreaming for a moment of some logarithm of Napier's, +or problem of Euclid's, pushed forward to the +fount unconsciously the glass which stood before +him, drew it back a brimmer, and carried it to his +lips; but lo! the increased angle at which the +professor was obliged to raise his arm, roused him from +his momentary reverie, and, pulling the drinking-cup +from his lips as if it contained the deadliest +henbane, exclaimed, 'What is this, Girzy, you have +given me? I cannot drink out of this glass. Give +me my own, you little minx. You might now well +know that <i>this</i> is not mine.' 'Weel-a-wat, it's a +I hae for't, Maister Simson,' answered Girzy, +blushing. 'Hush, hush,' rejoined the mathematician, +'say not so. I know it is not <i>my</i> glass, for +the outer edge of this touches my nose, and <i>mine</i> +never did so.' The girl confessed the accident, +and the professor, though for some minutes sadly +out of humour, was at length appeased, and swallowed +his <i>sherbet</i> at the risk of injuring his proboscis." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Dr Simson. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Dr Strang informs us that the eccentric mathematician, +in his progress from the University to +Anderston, was in the habit of counting his steps, +and that, walking blind-folded, he could have told +the distance to a fraction of an inch. He has +omitted, however, to tell us whether the Doctor's +steps were counted on his return, and if the +numbers corresponded! +</p> + +<p> +Along with the notices of the clubs subsequent +to the one mentioned, Dr Strang gives his reader +a tolerable notion of how it went with Glasgow in +those years. We have a peep of the Trongate +during the lucrative tobacco trade, when Glasgow +had her head not a little turned by her commercial +prosperity. There are rich citizens now in the +streets. Behold Mr Glassford, picking his steps +daintily along the Crown o' the Causeway, with +scarlet cloak, flowing wig, cocked-hat, and +gold-headed cane! He has money in his purse, and he +knows it too. All men warm themselves in the +light of his countenance. If he kicks you, you are +honoured, for is it not with a golden foot? How the +loud voice droops, how the obsequious knee bends +before him! He told Tobias Smollett yesterday +that he had five-and-twenty ships sailing for him on +the sea, and that half-a-million passed through his +hands every year. Pass on a little farther, and +yonder is Captain Paton sunning himself on the +ample pavement in front of the Tontine. Let us +step up to him. He will ask us to dinner, and +mix us a bowl of punch flavoured with his own +limes— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "In Trinidad that grow."<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +For hospitality was then, as now, a characteristic +of the city. The suppers—the favourite meal—were +of the most substantial description. A couple +of turkeys, a huge round of beef, and a bowl—a +very Caspian Sea—of punch, seething to its silver +brim, and dashed with delicate slices of lime or +lemon—formed the principal ingredients. Good +fellowship was the order of the day. In the +morning and forenoon the merchants congregated in the +Tontine reading-room for news and gossip, and at +night the punch-bowl was produced, emptied, +replenished, and emptied again, while the +toasts—"Down with the Convention," "The Pilot that +weathered the storm"—were drunk with enthusiasm +in some cosy tavern in the then aristocratic +Princes Street. At a later period, during the +disturbed years that preceded the Reform Bill, we see +the moneyed classes—"soor-milk jockeys" they +were profanely nicknamed by the mob—eagerly +enrolling themselves in yeomanry corps: on field +days resplendent in laced jacket and shako, or +clanking through the streets with spur and sabre. +As we approach our own times the clubs pale their +ineffectual fires—they shrink from planets to +will-o'-the-wisp; at last +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "They die away<br> + And fade into the light of common day."<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Glasgow is now, so far as history is concerned, a +clubless city. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The Glasgow operative. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +During the commercial distress of 1848-49, and +the agitation consequent on the flight of Louis +Philippe and the establishment of the French +Republic, Glasgow had the bad eminence of going +further in deeds of lawlessness and riot than any +other city in the empire. The "Glasgow operative" +is, while trade is good and wages high, the +quietest and most inoffensive of creatures. He +cares comparatively little for the affairs of the +nation. He is industrious and contented. Each six +months he holds a saturnalia—one on New-year's +day, the other at the Fair, (occurring in July,) and +his excesses at these points keep him poor during +the intervals. During periods of commercial +depression, however, when wages are low, and he +works three-quarter time, he has a fine nose to +scent political iniquities. He begins to suspect +that all is not right with the British constitution. +These unhappy times, too, produce impudent +demagogues, whose power of lungs and floods of +flashy rhetoric work incredible mischief. To these +he seriously inclines his ear. He is hungry and +excited. He is more anxious to reform Parliament +than to reform himself. He cries out against +tyranny of class-legislation, forgetting the far +harder tyranny of the gin-palace and the pawn-shop. +He thinks there should be a division of property. +Nay, it is known that some have in times like +these marked out the very houses they are to +possess when the goods of the world are segregated +and appropriated anew. What a dark sea of +ignorance and blind wrath is ever weltering beneath +the fair fabric of English prosperity! This +dangerous state of feeling had been reached in the +year spoken of. Hungry, tumultuous meetings +were held on the Green. The ignorant people were +maddened by the harangues of orators—fellows +who were willing to burn the house of the nation +about the ears of all of us, if so be <i>their</i> private pig +could be roasted thereby. "The rich have food," +said they, "you have none. You cannot die of +hunger. Take food by the strong hand wherever +you can get it." This advice was acted upon. The +black human sea poured along London Street, and +then split—one wave rushed up the High Street, +another along the Trongate—each wasting as it +went. The present writer, then a mere lad, was in +the streets at the time. +<span class="sidenote"> +Glasgow riots. +</span> +The whole thing going +on before his eyes seemed strange, incredible, too +monstrous to be real—a hideous dream which he +fought with and strove to thrust away. For an +hour or so all order was lost. All that had been +gained by a thousand years of strife and effort—all +that had been wrested from nature—all the +civilities and amenities of life—seemed drowned in +a wild sea of scoundrelism. The world was turned +topsy-turvy. Impossibility became matter of fact. +Madness ruled the hour. Gun-shops were broken +open, and wretched-looking men, who hardly knew +the muzzle from the stock, were running about +with muskets over their shoulders. In Buchanan +Street a meal cart was stopped, overturned, the +sacks ripped open with knives, and women were +seen hurrying home to their famishing broods with +aprons full; some of the more greedy with a cheese +under each arm. In Queen Street a pastry cook's +was attacked, the windows broken, and the +delicacies they contained greedily devoured. A large +glass-case, filled with coloured lozenges, arranged +in diamond patterns, stood serene for a while amid +universal ruin. A scoundrel smashed it with a +stick; down rushed a deluge of lozenges, and a +dozen rioters were immediately sprawling over +each other on the ground to secure a share of the +spoil. By this time alarm had spread. Shops +were shutting in all directions, some of the more +ingenious traders, it is said, pasting "A Shop to Let" +upon their premises—that they might thereby +escape the rage or the cupidity of the rioters. At +last, weary with spoliation, the mob, armed with +guns, pistols, and what other weapons they had +secured, came marching along the Trongate, a tall +begrimed collier, with a rifle over his shoulder, in +front. This worthy, more than two-thirds drunk, +kept shouting at intervals, "Vive la Republic! +We'll hae Vive la Republic, an' naething <i>but</i> +Vive la Republic!" to which intelligible political +principle his followers responded with vociferous +cheers. At last they reached the Cross. Here a +barricade was in process of erection. Carts were +stopped and thrown down, and London Street +behind was crowded with men, many of them +provided with muskets. On a sudden the cry arose, +"The sogers, the sogers!" terrible to the heart of +a British mob. Hoofs were heard clattering along +the Trongate, and the next moment an officer of +Carabineers leaped his horse over the barricade, +followed by his men, perhaps a dozen in all. The +effect was instantaneous. In five minutes not +a rioter was to be seen. When evening fell the +Trongate wore an unwonted appearance. Troops +stacked their bayonets, lighted their fires, and +bivouacked under the piazzas of the Tontine. +Sentinels paced up and down the pavements, and +dragoons patrolled the streets. Next day the +disturbance came to a crisis. A riot occurred in +Calton or Bridgeton. The pensioners were sent to +quell it there. While marching down one of the +principal streets, they were assailed by volleys of +stones, the crowd meanwhile falling back sullenly +from the bayonet points. The order was given to +fire, and the veterans, whose patience was +completely exhausted, sent their shot right into the +mass of people. Several were wounded, and one +or more killed. When the pensioners were gone, +a corpse was placed on boards, carried through the +streets shoulder-high by persons who, by that +means, hoped to madden and rouse the citizens; a +large crowd attending, every window crammed with +heads as the ghastly procession passed. As they +approached the centre of the city, a file of soldiers +was drawn across the street up which they were +marching. When the crowd fell back, the bearers +of the dead were confronted by the ominous glitter +of steel. The procession paused, stopped, wavered, +and finally beat a retreat, and thus the riots closed. +That evening people went to look at the spot +where the unhappy collision had taken place. +Groups of workmen were standing about, talking +in tones of excitement. The wall of one of the +houses was chipped in places by bullets, and the +gutter, into which a man had reeled, smashed by +the death-shot, had yet a ruddy stain. Next day +tranquillity was in a great measure restored. +<span class="sidenote"> +Special constables. +</span> +Masses +of special constables had by this time been +organised, and marched through the city in force. +Although they did not come into contact with the +rioters, the bravery they displayed in cudgelling +what unfortunate females, and <i>keelies</i> of tender +years fell into their hands, gave one a lively +idea of the prowess they would have exhibited +had they met foes worthy of the batons they +bore. +</p> + +<p> +Glasgow, as most British readers are aware, is +situated on both sides of the Clyde, some twenty +or thirty miles above its junction with the sea. Its +rapidity of growth is perhaps without a parallel in +the kingdom. There are persons yet alive who +remember when the river, now laden with shipping, +was an angler's stream, in whose gravelly pools +the trout played, and up whose rapids the salmon +from the sea flashed like a sunbeam; and when +the banks, now lined with warehouses and covered +with merchandise of every description, really +merited the name of the Broomy Law. Science +and industry have worked wonders here. The +stream, which a century ago hardly allowed the +passage of a herring-boat or a coal-gabbert, bears +on its bosom to-day ships from every clime, and +mighty ocean steamers which have wrestled with +the hurricanes of the Atlantic. Before reaching +Glasgow the Clyde traverses one of the richest +portions of Scotland, for in summer Clydesdale is +one continued orchard. As you come down the +stream towards the city, you have, away to the +right, the mineral districts of Gartsherrie and +Monkland—not superficially captivating regions. +Everything there is grimed with coal-dust. Spring +herself comes with a sooty face. The soil seems +calcined. You cannot see that part of the world +to advantage by day. With the night these innumerable +furnaces and iron-works will rush out into +vaster volume and wilder colour, and for miles the +country will be illuminated—restless with mighty +lights and shades. It is the Scottish Staffordshire. +<span class="sidenote"> +Moors of the covenant. +</span> +On the other hand, away to the south-west stretch +the dark and sterile moors of the covenant, with +wild moss-haggs, treacherous marshes green as +emerald, and dark mossy lochs, on whose margins +the water-hen breeds—a land of plovers and +curlews, in whose recesses, and in the heart of whose +mists, the hunted people lay while the men of +blood were hovering near—life and death depending +on the cry and flutter of a desert bird, or the +flash of a sunbeam along the stretches of the +moor. In the middle of that melancholy waste +stands the farm-house of Lochgoin, intimately +connected with the history of the Covenanters. To +this dwelling came Cameron and Peden and found +shelter; here lies the notched sword of Captain +John Paton, and the drum which was beaten at +Drumclog by the hill-folk, and the banner that +floated above their heads that day. And here, +too, was written the "Scots Worthies," a book +considerered by the austerer portion of the Scottish +peasantry as next in sacredness to the Bible. +And it has other charms this desolate country: +over there by Mearns, Christopher North spent his +glorious boyhood; in this region, too, Pollok was +born, and fed his gloomy spirit on congenial scenes. +Approaching the city, and immediately to the left, +are the Cathkin Braes: and close by the village of +Cathcart, past which the stream runs murmuring +in its rocky bed, is the hill on which Mary stood +and saw Moray shiver her army like a potsherd. +<span class="sidenote"> +The estuary of the Clyde. +</span> +Below Glasgow, and westward, stretches the great +valley of the Clyde. On the left is the ancient burgh +of Renfrew; farther back Paisley and Johnston, +covered with smoke; above all, Gleniffer Braes, +greenly fair in sunlight; afar Neilston Pad, raising +its flat summit to the sky, like a table spread +for a feast of giants. On the right are the +Kilpatrick Hills, terminating in the abrupt peak of +Dumbuck; and beyond, the rock of Dumbarton, +the ancient fortress, the rock of Ossian's song. It +rises before you out of another world and state of +things, with years of lamentation and battle wailing +around it like sea-mews. By this time the river +has widened to an estuary. Port-Glasgow, with +its deserted piers, and Greenock, populous with +ships, lie on the left. Mid-channel, Rosneath is +gloomy with its woods; on the farther shore Helensburgh +glitters like a silver thread; in front, a battlement +of hills. You pass the point of Gourock, +and are in the Highlands. From the opposite +coast Loch Long stretches up into yon dark world +of mountains. Yonder is Holy Loch, smallest and +loveliest of them all. A league of sea is glittering +like frosted silver between you and Dunoon. The +mighty city, twenty miles away, loud with traffic, +dingy with smoke, is the working Glasgow; here, +nestling at the foot of mountains, stretching along +the sunny crescents of bays, clothing beaked +promontories with romantic villas, is another Glasgow +keeping holiday the whole summer long. These +villages are the pure wheat; the great city, with +its strife and toil, its harass and heart-break—the +chaff and husks from which it is winnowed. The +city is the soil, this region the bright consummate +flower. The merchant leaves behind him in the +roar and vapour his manifold vexations, and appears +here with his best face and happiest smile. +Here no bills intrude, the fluctuations of stock +appear not, commercial anxieties are unknown. In +their places are donkey rides, the waving of light +summer dresses, merry pic-nics, and boating parties +at sunset on the splendid sea. Here are the +"comforts of the Sautmarket" in the midst of +legendary hills. When the tempest is brewing up +among the mountains, and night comes down a +deluge of wind and rain; when the sea-bird is +driven athwart the gloom like a flake of foam +severed from the wave, and the crimson eye of the +Clock glares at intervals across the frith, you can +draw the curtains, stir the fire, and beguile the +hours with the smiling wisdom of Thackeray, if a +bachelor; if a family man, "The Battle of Prague," +or the overture to "Don Giovanni," zealously +thumped by filial hands, will drown the storm +without. Hugging the left shore, we have Largs +before us, where long ago Haco and his berserkers +found dishonourable graves. On the other side is +Bute, fairest, most melancholy of all the islands +of the Clyde. From its sheltered position it has +an atmosphere soft as that of Italy, and is one +huge hospital now. You turn out in the dog-days, +your head surmounted with a straw-hat ample +enough to throw a shadow round you, your nether +man encased in linen ducks, and see invalids +sitting everywhere in the sunniest spots like autumn +flies, or wandering feebly about, wrapt in greatcoats, +their chalk faces shawled to the nose. You +are half-broiled, they shiver as if in an icy wind. +Their bent figures take the splendour out of the +sea and the glory out of the sunshine. They fill +the summer air as with the earthy horror of a +new-made grave. You feel that they hang on life +feebly, and will drop with the yellow leaf. Beyond +Bute are the Cumbraes, twin sisters born in one +fiery hour; and afar Arran, with his precipices, +purple-frowning on the level sea. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Arran +</span> +</p> + +<p> +In his preface to the "Rambles" Mr Macdonald +writes:— +</p> + +<p> +"The district of which Glasgow is the centre, +while it possesses many scenes of richest Lowland +beauty, and presents many glimpses of the stern +and wild in Highland landscape, is peculiarly fertile +in reminiscences of a historical nature. In the +latter respect, indeed, it is excelled by few localities +in Scotland—a circumstance of which many of our +citizens seem to have been hitherto almost +unconscious. There is a story told of a gentleman +who, having boasted that he had travelled far to +see a celebrated landscape on the Continent, was +put to the blush by being compelled to own that +he had never visited a scene of superior loveliness +than one situated on his own estate, and near +which he had spent the greater part of his life. +The error of this individual is one of which too +many are guilty." +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Celebrated scenery disappointing. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +These sentences would make an admirable text +for a little week-day sermon. For we are prone, +in other matters than scenery, to seek our +enjoyments at a distance. We would gather that +happiness from the far-off stars which, had we the +eyes to see, is all the while lying at our feet. You +go to look at a celebrated scene. People have +returned from it in raptures. You have heard them +describe it, you have read about it, and you +naturally expect something very fine indeed. When +you arrive, the chances are that its beauties are +carefully stowed away in a thick mist, or you are +drenched to the skin, or you find the hotel full, and +are forced to sleep in an outhouse, or on the heather +beneath the soft burning planets, and go home with +a rheumatism which embitters your existence to +your dying day. Or, if you are lucky enough to +find the weather cloudless and the day warm, you +are doomed to cruel disappointment. Is <i>that</i> +what you have heard and read so much about? +That pitiful drivelling cascade! Why, you were led +to expect the wavy grace of the Gray Mare's Tail +combined with the flash and thunder of Niagara. +That a mountain forsooth! It isn't so much +bigger than Ben Lomond after all! You feel +swindled and taken in. You commend the waterfall +to the fiend. You snap your fingers in the +face of the mountain. "You're a humbug, sir. +You're an impostor, sir. I—I'll write to the <i>Times</i> +and expose you, sir." On the other hand, the +townsman, at the close of a useful and busy day, +walks out into the country. The road is pretty; +he has never been on it before; he is insensibly +charmed along. He reaches a little village or +clachan, its half-dozen thatched houses set down +amid blossoming apple-trees; the smoke from the +chimneys, telling of the preparation of the evening +meal, floating up into the rose of sunset. A +labourer is standing at the door with a child in his +arms; the unharnessed horses are drinking at the +trough; the village boys and girls are busy at +their games; two companies, linked arm-in-arm, +are alternately advancing and receding, singing +all the while with their sweet shrill voices— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "The Campsie Duke's a riding, a riding, a riding."<br> +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Unexpectedness of pleasure. +</span> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +This is no uncommon scene in Scotland, and why +does it yield more pleasure than the celebrated +one that you have gone a hundred miles to see, +besides spending no end of money on the way? +Simply because you have approached it with a pure, +healthy mind, undebauched by rumour or praise. +It has in it the element of unexpectedness; which, +indeed, is the condition of all delight, for pleasure +must surprise if it is to be worthy of the name. +The pleasure that is expected and looked for never +comes, or if it does it is in a shape so changed that +recognition is impossible. Besides, you have found +out the scene, and have thereby a deeper interest +in it. This same law pervades everything. You +hear of Coleridge's wonderful conversation, and in +an evil hour make your appearance at Highgate. +The mild-beaming, silvery-haired sage, who +conceived listening to be the whole duty of man, +talks for the space of three mortal hours—by you +happily unheard. For, after the first twenty +minutes, you are conscious of a hazy kind of light +before your eyes, a soothing sound is murmuring +in your ears, a delicious numbness is creeping over +all your faculties, and by the end of the first +half-hour you are snoring away as comfortably as if you +were laid by the side of your lawful spouse. You +are disappointed of course: of the musical wisdom +which has been flowing in plenteous streams +around, you have not tasted one drop; and you +never again hear a man praised for power or +brilliancy of conversation without an inward +shudder. The next day you take your place on +the coach, and are fortunate enough to secure +your favourite seat beside the driver. Outside of you +is a hard-featured man, wrapt in a huge blue +pilot-coat. You have no idea to what class of society +he may belong. It is plain that he is not a gentleman +in the superfine sense of that term. He has a +very remarkable gift of silence. When you have +smoked your cigar out, you hazard a remark about +the weather. He responds. You try his mind as +an angler tries a stream, to see if anything will +rise. One thing draws on another, till, after an +hour's conversation, which has flown over like a +minute, you find that you have really learned +something. +<span class="sidenote"> +Pleasure not to be sought at a distance. +</span> +The unknown individual in the pilot-coat, +who has strangely come out of space upon +you, and as strangely returns into space again, has +looked upon the world, and has formed his own +notions and theories of what goes on there. On +him life has pressed as well as on you; joy at +divers times has lighted up his grim features; +sorrow and pain have clouded them. There is +something in the man; you are sorry when he is +dropped on the road, and say "Good-bye," with +more than usual feeling. Why is all this? The +man in the pilot-coat does not talk so eloquently +as S.T.C, but he instructs and pleases you—and +just because you went to hear the celebrated +Talker, as you go to see the Irish Giant, or the +Performing Pig, you are disappointed, as you +deserved to be. The man in the pilot-coat has +come upon you naturally, unexpectedly. At its +own sweet will "the cloud turned forth its silver +lining on the night." Happiness may best be +extracted from the objects surrounding us. The +theory on which our loud tumultuary modern life +is based—that we can go to Pleasure, that if we +frequent her haunts we are sure to find her—is a +heresy and a falsehood. She will not be +constrained. She obeys not the call of the selfish or +the greedy. Depend upon it she is as frequently +found on homely roads, and amongst rustic +villages and farms, as among the glaciers of +Chamouni, or the rainbows of Niagara. +</p> + +<p> +In one of his earliest rambles, Mr Macdonald +follows the river for some miles above the city. +The beauty of the Clyde below Glasgow is well +known to the civilised world. Even the <i>roué</i> +of landscape, to whom the Rhine is weariness and +the Alps common-place, has felt his heart leap +within him while gazing on that magnificent +estuary. But it is not only in her maturity that the +Clyde is fair. Beauty attends her from her birth +on Rodger Law until she is wedded with ocean—Bute, +and the twin Cumbraes, bridesmaids of the +stream; Arran, groomsman to the main. With Mr +Macdonald's book in pocket to be a companion at +intervals—for one requires no guide, having years +before learned every curve and bend of the river—let +us start along its banks towards Carmyle and +Kenmure wood. We pass Dalmarnock Bridge, +and leave the city, with its windowed factories and +driving wheels and everlasting canopy of smoke +behind. The stream comes glittering down between +green banks, one of which rises high on the left, +so that further vision in that quarter is intercepted. +On the right are villages and farms; afar, the +Cathkin Braes, the moving cloud shadows mottling +their sunny slopes; and straight ahead, and +closing the view, the spire of Cambuslang Church, +etched on the pallid azure of the sky. We are but +two miles from the city, and everything is bright +and green. The butterfly flutters past; the dragonfly +darts hither and thither. See, he poises himself +on his winnowing wings, about half a yard from +one's nose, which he curiously inspects; that +done, off darts the winged tenpenny-nail, his +rings gleaming like steel. There are troops of +swallows about. Watch one. Now he is high in +air—now he skims the Clyde. You can hear his +sharp, querulous twitter as he jerks and turns. +Nay, it is said that the kingfisher himself has been +seen gleaming along these sandy banks, illuminating +them like a meteor. +<span class="sidenote"> +Dalbeth Convent. +</span> +At some little distance a +white house is pleasantly situated amongst trees—it +is Dalbeth Convent. As we pass, one of the +frequent bells summoning the inmates to devotion +is stirring the sunny Presbyterian air. A little on +this side of the convent, a rapid brook comes +rushing to the Clyde, crossed by a rude bridge of +planks, which has been worn by the feet of three +generations at the very least. The brook, which is +rather huffy and boisterous in its way, particularly +after rain, had, a few days before, demolished and +broken up said wooden planks, and carried one of +them off. Arriving, we find a woman and boy +anxious to cross, yet afraid to venture. Service is +proffered, and, after a little trouble, both are landed +in safety on the farther bank. The woman is +plainly, yet neatly dressed, and may be about +forty-five years of age or thereby. The boy has +turned eleven, has long yellow hair hanging down +his back, and looks thin and slender for his years. +With them they have something wrapped up in a +canvas cloth, which, to the touch as they are handed +across, seem to be poles of about equal length. +For the slight service the woman returns thanks +in a tone which smacks of the southern English +counties. "Good-bye" is given and returned, and +we proceed, puzzling ourselves a good deal as to +what kind of people they are, and what their +business may be in these parts, but can come to no +conclusion. However, it does not matter much, for +the ironworks are passed now, and the river banks +are beautiful. They are thickly wooded, and at a +turn the river flows straight down upon you for a +mile, with dusty meal-mills on one side, a dilapidated +wheel-house on the other, and stretching from +bank to bank a half-natural, half-artificial shallow +horse-shoe fall, over which the water tumbles in +indolent foam—a sight which a man who has no +pressing engagements, and is fond of exercise, may +walk fifty miles to see, and be amply rewarded for +his pains. In front is a ferry—a rope extending +across the river by which the boat is propelled—and +lo! a woman in a scarlet cloak on the opposite +side hails the ferryman, and that functionary comes +running to his duty. +<span class="sidenote"> +Carmyle. +</span> +Just within the din of the +shallow horse-shoe fall lies the village of Carmyle, +an old, quiet, sleepy place, where nothing has +happened for the last fifty years, and where nothing +will happen for fifty years to come. Ivy has been +the busiest thing here; it has crept up the walls of +the houses, and in some instances fairly "put out +the light" of the windows. The thatched roofs are +covered with emerald moss. The plum-tree which +blossomed some months ago blossomed just the +same in the spring which witnessed the birth of the +oldest inhabitant. For half a century not one stone +has been placed upon another here—there are only +a few more green mounds in the churchyard. It +is the centre of the world. All else is change: +this alone is stable. There is a repose deeper than +sleep in this little, antiquated village—ivy-muffled, +emerald-mossed, lullabied for ever by the fall of +waters. The meal-mills, dusty and white as the +clothes of the miller himself, whir industriously; +the waters of the lade come boiling out from +beneath the wheel, and reach the Clyde by a channel +dug by the hand of man long ago, but like a work of +nature's now, so covered with furze as it is. Look +down through the clear amber of the current, and +you see the "long green gleet of the slippery stones" +in which the silver-bellied eel delights. Woe betide +the luckless village urchin that dares to wade therein. +There is a sudden splash and roar. When he gets +out, he is laid with shrill objurgations across the +broad maternal knee, and fright and wet clothes are +avenged by sound whacks from the broad maternal +hand. Leaving the village, we proceed onward. +The banks come closer, the stream is shallower, +and whirls in eddy and circle over a rocky bed. +There is a woodland loneliness about the river +which is aided by the solitary angler standing up +to his middle in the water, and waiting patiently for +the bite that never comes, or by the water-ousel +flitting from stone to stone. +<span class="sidenote"> +Kenmuir Bank. +</span> +In a quarter of an +hour we reach Kenmuir Bank, which rises some +seventy feet or so, filled with trees, their trunks +rising bare for a space, and then spreading out with +branch and foliage into a matted shade, permitting +the passage only of a few flakes of sunlight at +noon, resembling, in the green twilight, a flock of +visionary butterflies alighted and asleep. Within, +the wood is jungle; you wade to the knees in +brushwood and bracken. The trunks are clothed +with ivy, and snakes of ivy creep from tree to tree, +some green with life, some tarnished with decay. +At the end of the Bank there is a clear well, in +which, your face meeting its shadow, you may +quench your thirst. Seated here, you have the +full feeling of solitude. An angler wades out into +mid-channel—a bird darts out of a thicket, and +slides away on noiseless wing—the shallow wash +and murmur of the Clyde flows through a silence +as deep as that of an American wilderness—and +yet, by to-morrow, the water which mirrors as it +passes the beauty of the lucken-gowan hanging +asleep, will have received the pollutions of a +hundred sewers, and be bobbing up and down among +the crowds of vessels at the Broomielaw. Returning +homeward by the top of Kenmuir Bank, we +gaze westward. Out of a world of smoke the stalk +of St Rollox rises like a banner-staff, its vapoury +streamer floating on the wind; and afar, through +the gap between the Campsie and Kilpatrick hills, +Benlomond himself, with a streak of snow upon +his shoulder. Could one but linger here for a +couple of hours, one would of a verity behold a +sight—the sun setting in yonder lurid, +smoke-ocean. The wreaths of vapour which seem so +common-place and vulgar now, so suggestive of +trade and swollen purses and rude manners, would +then become a glory such as never shepherd beheld +at sunrise on his pastoral hills. Beneath a roof of +scarlet flame, one would see the rolling edges of the +smoke change into a brassy brightness, as with +intense heat; the dense mass and volume of it dark +as midnight, or glowing with the solemn purple of +thunder; while right in the centre of all, where it +has burned a clear way for itself, the broad fluctuating +orb, paining the eye with concentrated splendours, +and sinking gradually down, a black spire +cutting his disk in two. But for this one cannot +wait, and the apparition will be unbeheld but by +the rustic stalking across the field in company with +his prodigious shadow, and who, turning his face to +the flame, will conceive it the most ordinary thing +in the world. We keep the upper road on our +return, and in a short time are again at Carmyle; +we have no intention of tracing the river bank a +second time, and so turn up the narrow street. +But what is to do? +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +The acrobat. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The children are gathered in +a circle, and the wives are standing at the open +doors. There is a performance going on. The +tambourine is sounding, and a tiny acrobat, with a +fillet round his brow, tights covered with tinsel +lozenges, and flesh-coloured shoes, is striding about +on a pair of stilts, to the no small amazement and +delight of the juveniles. He turns his head, +and—why, it's the little boy I assisted across the brook +at Dalbeth three hours ago, and of course that's +the old lady who is thumping and jingling the +tambourine, and gathering in the halfpennies! +God bless her jolly old face! who would have +thought of meeting her here? I am recognised, +the boy waves me farewell, the old lady smiles +and curtsies, thumps her tambourine, and rattles +the little bells of it with greater vigour than ever. +The road to Glasgow is now comparatively +uninteresting. The trees wear a dingy colour; you pass +farm-houses, with sooty stacks standing in the yard. +'Tis a coaly, dusty district, which has +characteristics worth noting. For, as the twilight falls +dewily on far-off lea and mountain, folding up +daisy and buttercup, putting the linnet to sleep +beside his nest of young in the bunch of broom, here +the circle of the horizon becomes like red-hot steel; +the furnaces of the Clyde iron-works lift up their +mighty towers of flame, throwing +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Large and angry lustres o'er the sky,<br> + And shifting lights across the long dark roads;"<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and so, through chase of light and shade, through +glimmer of glare and gloom, we find our way back +to Glasgow—its low hum breaking into separate +and recognisable sounds, its nebulous brightness +into far-stretching street-lamps, as we draw near. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Paisley. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +The tourist who travels by train from Glasgow +to Greenock must pass the town of Paisley. If he +glances out of the carriage window he will see +beneath him a third-rate Scotch town, through which +flows the foulest and shallowest of rivers. +</p> + +<p> +The principal building in the town, and the one +which first attracts the eye of a stranger, is the jail; +then follow the church spires in their order of +merit. Unfortunately the train passes not through +Paisley, but over it; and from his "coign of +vantage" the tourist beholds much that is invisible to +the passenger in the streets. All the back-greens, +piggeries, filthy courts, and unmentionable +abominations of the place, are revealed to him for a +moment as the express flashes darkly across the +railway bridge. For the seeing of Scotch towns a +bird's-eye view is plainly the worst point of view. +In all likelihood the tourist, as he passes, will +consider Paisley the ugliest town he has ever beheld, +and feel inwardly grateful that his lot has not been +cast therein. But in this the tourist may be very +much mistaken. Paisley is a remarkable place—one +of the most remarkable in Scotland. Just as +Comrie is the abode of earthquakes, Paisley is the +abode of poetic inspiration. There is no accounting +for the tastes of the celestials. Queen Titania fell in +love with Bottom when he wore the ass's head; and +Paisley, ugly as it is, is the favourite seat of the +Muses. There Apollo sits at the loom and earns +eighteen shillings per week. At this moment, and +the same might have been said of any moment since +the century came in, there is perhaps a greater +number of poets living and breathing in this little town +than in the whole of England. Whether this may +arise from the poverty of the place, on the principle +that the sweetness of the nightingale's song is +connected in some subtle way with the thorn against +which she leans her breast, it may be useless to +inquire. Proceed from what cause it may, Paisley has +been for the last fifty years or more an aviary of +singing birds. To said aviary I had once the honour +to be introduced. Some years ago, when dwelling +in the outskirts of the town, I received a billet +intimating that the L.C.A. would meet on the evening +of the 26th Jan. 18—, in honour of the memory of +the immortal Robert Burns, and requesting my +attendance. N.B.—Supper and drink, 1s. 6d. +Being a good deal puzzled by the mystic characters, +I made inquiries, and discovered that +L.C.A. represented the "Literary and Convivial +Association," which met every Saturday evening for the +cultivation of the minds of its members—a soil +which for years had been liberally irrigated with +toddy—with correspondent effects. To this cheap +feast of the gods on the sacred evening in question +I directed my steps, and beheld the assembled +poets. +<span class="sidenote"> +The poets. +</span> +There could scarcely have been fewer than +eighty present. Strange! Each of these conceited +himself of finer clay than ordinary mortals; each +of these had composed verses, some few had even +published small volumes or pamphlets of verse by +subscription, and drank the anticipated profits; +each of these had his circle of admirers and +flatterers, his small public and shred of reputation; +each of these envied and hated his neighbour; and +not unfrequently two bards would quarrel in their +cups as to which of them was possessor of the +larger amount of fame. At that time the erection +of a monument to Thom of Inverury had been +talked about, <i>apropos</i> of which one of the bards +remarked, "Ou ay, jist like them. They'll bigg us +monuments whan we're deid: I wush they'd gie +us something whan we're leevin'." In that room, +amid that motley company, one could see the great +literary world unconsciously burlesqued and +travestied, shadowed forth there the emptiness and +noise of it, the blatant vanity of many of its members. +The eighty poets presented food for meditation. +Well, it is from this town that I propose taking a +walk, for behind Paisley lie Gleniffer Braes, the +scene of Tannahill's songs. One can think of +Burns apart from Ayrshire, of Wordsworth apart +from Cumberland, but hardly of Tannahill apart +from the Braes of Gleniffer. The district, too, is of +but little extent; in a walk of three hours you can +see every spot mentioned by the poet. You visit +his birthplace in the little straggling street, where +the sound of the shuttle is continually heard. You +pass up to the green hills where he delighted to +wander, and whose charms he has celebrated; and +you return by the canal where, when the spirit +"finely touched to fine issues," was disordered and +unstrung, he sought repose. Birth, life, and death +lie side by side. The matter of the moral is closely +packed. The whole tragedy sleeps in the compass +of an epigram. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Stanley Castle. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the rambling suburbs of Paisley, you +pass into a rough and undulating country with +masses of gray crag interspersed with whinny knolls, +where, in the evenings, the linnet sings; with +narrow sandy roads wandering through it hither and +thither, passing now a clump of gloomy firs, now a +house where some wealthy townsman resides, now a +pleasant corn-field. A pretty bit of country enough, +with larks singing above it from dawn to sunset, +and where, in the gloaming, the wanderer not +unfrequently can mark the limping hare. A little +further on are the ruins of Stanley Castle. This +castle, in the days of the poet, before the wildness +of the country had been tamed by the plough, +must have lent a singular charm to the landscape. +It stands at the base of the hills which rise above +it with belt of wood, rocky chasm, white streak of +waterfall—higher up into heath and silence, silence +deep as the heaven that overhangs it; where nothing +moves save the vast cloud-shadows, where +nothing is heard save the cry of the moorland bird. +Tannahill was familiar with the castle in its every +aspect—when sunset burned on the walls, when +the moon steeped it in silver and silence, and when +it rose up before him shadowy and vast through +the marshy mists. He had his loom to attend +during the day, and he knew the place best in its +evening aspect. Twilight, with its quietude and +stillness, seemed to have peculiar charms for his +sensitive nature, and many of his happiest lines are +descriptive of its phenomena. But the glory is in a +great measure departed from Stanley Tower; the +place has been turned into a reservoir by the Water +Company, and the ruin is frequently surrounded by +water. This intrusion of water has spoiled the +scene. The tower is hoary and broken, the lake +looks a thing of yesterday, and there are traces +of quite recent masonry about. The lake's shallow +extent, its glitter and brightness, are impertinences. +Only during times of severe frost, when its surface +is iced over, when the sun is sinking in the purple +vapours like a globe of red-hot iron—when the +skaters are skimming about like swallows, and the +curlers are boisterous—for the game has been long +and severe—and the decisive stone is roaring up +the rink—only in such circumstances does the +landscape regain some kind of keeping and +homogeneousness. There is no season like winter for +improving a country; he tones it down to one +colour; he breathes over its waters, and in the +course of a single night they become gleaming +floors, on which youth may disport itself. He +powders his black forest-boughs with the pearlin's +of his frosts; and the fissures which spring tries in +vain to hide with her flowers, and autumn with +fallen leaves, he fills up at once with a +snow-wreath. But we must be getting forward, up that +winding road, progress marked by gray crag, tuft +of heather, bunch of mountain violets, the country +beneath stretching out farther and farther. Lo! a +strip of emerald steals down the gray of the hill, +and there, by the way-side, is an ample well, with +the "netted sunbeam" dancing in it. Those who +know Tannahill's "Gloomy Winter's noo awa" +must admire its curious felicity of touch and colour. +Turn round, you are in the very scene of the song. +<span class="sidenote"> +Gleniffer. +</span> +In front is "Gleniffer's dewy dell," to the east +"Glenkelloch's sunny brae," afar the woods of +Newton, over which at this moment laverocks +fan the "snaw-white cluds;" below, the "burnie" +leaps in sparkle and foam over many a rocky shelf, +till its course is lost in that gorge of gloomy firs, +and you can only hear the music of its joy. Which +is the fairer—the landscape before your eyes, or +the landscape sleeping in the light of song? You +cannot tell, for they are at once different and the +same. The touch of the poet was loving and true. +His genius was like the light of early spring, clear +from speck or stain of vapour, but with tremulousness +and uncertainty in it; happy, but with grief +lying quite close to its happiness; smiling, although +the tears are hardly dry upon the cheeks that in a +moment may be wet again. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Tannahill. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +But who is Tannahill? the southern reader asks +with some wonder; and in reply it may be +said that Burns, like every great poet, had many +imitators and successors, and that of these +successors in the north country Hogg and Tannahill are +the most important. Hogg was a shepherd in The +Forest, and he possessed out of sight the larger +nature, the greater intellectual force; while as +master of the weird and the supernatural there is +no Scottish poet to be put beside him. The soul +of Ariel seems to inhabit him at times. He utters +a strange music like the sighing of the night-wind; +a sound that seems to live remote from human +habitations. In openness to spiritual beauty, Burns, +compared with him, was an ordinary ploughman. +Like Thomas the Rhymer, he lay down to sleep on +a green bank on a summer's day, and the Queen of +Fancy visited his slumber; and never afterwards +could he forget her beauty, and her voice, and the +liquid jingling of her bridle bells. Tannahill was a +weaver, who wrote songs, became crazed, and +committed suicide before he reached middle life. His +was a weak, tremulous nature. He was wretched +by reason of over-sensitiveness. "He lived retired +as noon-tide dew." He wanted Hogg's strength, +self-assertion, humour, and rough sagacity; nor +had he a touch of his weird strain. From Burns, +again, he was as different as a man could +possibly be. Tannahill knew nothing of the +tremendous life-battle fought on wet Mossgiel farm, +in fashionable Edinburgh, in provincial Dumfries. +He knew nothing of the Love, Scorn, Despair,—those +wild beasts that roamed the tropics of +Burns's heart. But limited as was his genius, +it was in its quality perhaps more exquisite +than theirs. He was only a song-writer—both +Burns and Hogg were more than that—and some +of his songs are as nearly as possible perfect. He +knew nothing of the mystery of life. If the fierce +hand of Passion had been laid upon his harp, it +would have broken at once its fragile strings. He +looked upon nature with a pensive yet a loving +eye. Gladness flowed upon him from the bright +face of spring, despondency from the snow-flake +and the sweeping winter winds. His amatory songs +have no fire in them. While Burns would have +held Annie in his "straining grasp," Tannahill, +with a glow upon his cheek, would have pointed +out to the unappreciating fair the "plantin' +tree-taps tinged wi' gowd," or silently watched the +"midges dance aboon the burn." Then, by the +aid of that love of nature, how clearly he sees, and +how exquisitely he paints what he sees— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Feathery breckans fringe the rocks;<br> + 'Neath the brae the burnie jouks."<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Towering o'er the Newton wuds,<br> + Laverocks fan the snaw-white cluds."<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Neither Keats nor Tennyson, nor any of their +numerous followers surpassed this unlettered +weaver in felicity of colour and touch. Any one +wishing to prove the truth of Tannahill's verse, +could not do better than bring out his song-book +here, and read and ramble, and ramble and read +again. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Elderslie. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +But why go farther to-day? The Peesweep Inn, +where the rambler baits, is yet afar on the heath; +Kilbarchan, queerest of villages, is basking its +straggling length on the hill-side in the sun, +peopled by botanical and bird-nesting weavers, its +cross adorned by the statue of Habbie Simpson, +"with his pipes across the wrong shoulder." Westward +is Elderslie, where Wallace was born, and +there, too, till within the last few years, stood the +oak amongst whose branches, as tradition tells, the +hero, when hard pressed by the Southrons, found +shelter with all his men. From afar came many a +pilgrim to behold the sylvan giant. Before its +fall it was sorely mutilated by time and tourists. +Of its timber were many snuff-boxes made. +Surviving the tempests of centuries, it continued to +flourish green atop, although its heart was hollow +as a ruined tower. At last a gale, which heaped +our coasts with shipwreck, struck it down with +many of its meaner brethren. "To this complexion +must we come at last." At our feet lies Paisley +with its poets. Seven miles off, Glasgow peers, +with church-spire and factory stalk, through a +smoky cloud; the country between gray with distance, +and specked here and there with the vapours +of the trains. How silent the vast expanse! not a +sound reaches the ear on the height. Gleniffer +Braes are clear in summer light, beautiful as when +the poet walked across them. Enough, their +beauty and his memory. One is in no mood to look +even at the unsightly place beside the canal which +was sought when to the poor disordered brain the +world was black, and fellow-men ravening wolves. +Here he walked happy in his genius; not a man +to wonder at and bow the knee to, but one fairly +to appreciate and acknowledge. For the twitter +of the wren is music as well as the lark's lyrical +up-burst; the sigh of the reed shaken by the wind +as well as the roaring of a league of pines. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> + +<h3> +<i>HOME.</i> +</h3> + +<p> +When of an autumn evening the train brought +me into Edinburgh, the scales of familiarity +having to some little extent fallen from my eyes, +I thought I had never before seen it so beautiful. +Its brilliancy was dazzling and fairy-like. It was +like a city of Chinese lanterns. It was illuminated +as if for a great victory, or the marriage of a king. +Princes Street blazed with street lamps and gay +shop-windows. The Old Town was a maze of +twinkling lights. The Mound lifted up its starry +coil. The North Bridge leaping the chasm, held +lamps high in air. There were lights on the +Calton Hill, lights on the crest of the Castle. The +city was in a full blossom of lights—to wither by +midnight, to be all dead ere dawn. And then +to an ear accustomed to silence there arose on +every side the potent hum of moving multitudes, +more august in itself, infinitely more suggestive +to the imagination than the noise of the Atlantic +on the Skye shores. The sound with which I had +been for some time familiar was the voice of many +billows; the sound which was in my ears was the +noise of men. +</p> + +<p> +And in driving home, too, I was conscious of a +curious oppugnancy between the Skye life which +I had for same time been leading, and the old +Edinburgh life which had been dropped for a little, +and which had now to be resumed. The two +experiences met like sheets of metal, but they +were still separate sheets—I could not solder +them together and make them one. I knew that +a very few days would do that for me; but it was +odd to attempt by mental effort to unite the +experiences and to discover how futile was all such +effort. Coming back to Edinburgh was like taking +up abode in a house to which one had been +for a while a stranger, in which one knew all the +rooms and all the articles of furniture in the rooms, +but with whose knowledge there was mingled a +feeling of strangeness. I had changed my clothes +of habit, and for the moment I did not feel so +much at ease in the strange Edinburgh, as the +familiar Skye, suit. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="sidenote"> +Ossianic translations. +</span> +</p> + +<p> +It was fated, however, that the two modes of +life should, in my consciousness, melt into each +other imperceptibly. When I reached home I +found that my friend the Rev. Mr Macpherson of +Inverary had sent me a packet of Ossianic translations. +These translations, breathing the very soul +of the wilderness I had lately left, I next day +perused in my Edinburgh surroundings, and through +their agency the two experiences coalesced. +Something of Edinburgh melted into my remembrance +of Skye—something of Skye was projected into +actual Edinburgh. Thus is life enriched by ideal +contrast and interchange. With certain of these +translations I conclude my task. To me they were +productive of much pleasure. And should the +shadows in my book have impressed the reader to +any extent, as the realities impressed me—if I have +in any way kindled the feeling of Skye in his +imagination as it lives in mine—these fragments of +austere music will not be ungrateful. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="poem"> + EXTRACT FROM CARRICK-THURA.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Night fell on wave-beat Rotha,<br> + The hill-shelter'd bay received the ships;<br> + A rock rose by the skirt of the ocean,<br> + A wood waved over the boom of the waves;<br> + Above was the circle of Lodin,<br> + And the huge stones of many a power;<br> + Below was a narrow plain<br> + And tree and grass beside the sea.<br> + A tree torn by the wind when high<br> + From the skirt of the cairns to the plain.<br> + Beyond was the blue travel of streams;<br> + A gentle breeze came from the stilly sea,<br> + A flame rose from a hoary oak;<br> + The feast of the chiefs was spread on the heath;<br> + Grieved was the soul of the king of shields,<br> + For the chief of dark Carrick of the braves.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + The moon arose slow and faint;<br> + Deep slumber fell round the heads of the braves,<br> + Their helmets gleam'd around;<br> + The fire was dying on the hill.<br> + Sleep fell not on the eyelids of the king;<br> + He arose in the sound of his arms<br> + To view the wave-beat Carrick.<br> + The fire lower'd in the far distance,<br> + The moon was in the east red and slow.<br> + A blast came down from the cairn;<br> + On its wings was the semblance of a man,<br> + Orm Lodin, ghastly on the sea.<br> + He came to his own dwelling-place,<br> + His black spear useless in his hand,<br> + His red eye as the fire of the skies,<br> + His voice as the torrent of the mountains.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Far distant in the murky gloom.<br> + Fingal raised his spear in the night,<br> + His challenge was heard on the plain—<br> + "Son of the night, from my side,<br> + Take the wind—away;<br> + Why shouldst come to my presence, feeble one,<br> + Thy form as powerless as thy arms?<br> + Do I dread thy dark-brown shape,<br> + Spirit of the circles of Lodin?<br> + Weak is thy shield and thy form of subtle cloud,<br> + Thy dull-edged sword as fire in the great waves,<br> + A blast parts them asunder,<br> + And thou [thyself] art straightway dispersed<br> + From my presence, dark son of the skies.<br> + Call thy blast—away!"<br> + "Wouldst thou drive me from my own circle?"<br> + Said the hollow voice of eeriest sound.<br> + "To me bends the host of the braves;<br> + I look from my wood on the people,<br> + And they fall as ashes before my sight;<br> + From my breath comes the blast of death;<br> + I come forth on high on the wind;<br> + The storms are pouring aloft<br> + Around my brow, cold, gloomy, and dark.<br> + Calm is my dwelling in the clouds,<br> + Pleasant the great fields of my repose."<br> + "Dwell in thy plains,"<br> + Said the mighty king, his hand on his sword;<br> + "Else remember the son of Cumal in the field;<br> + Feeble is thy phantom, great is my strength.<br> + Have I moved my step from the mountain<br> + To thy halls on the peaceful plain?<br> + Has my powerful spear met<br> + In the skyey robe the voice<br> + Of the dark spirit of the circle of Lodin?<br> + Why raise thy brow in gloom?<br> + Why brandishest thy spear on high?<br> + Little I fear thy threats, feeble one,<br> + I fled not from hosts on the field,<br> + Why should flee from the seed of the winds<br> + The mighty hero, Morven's king?<br> + Flee he will not, well he knows<br> + The weakness of thy arm in battle."<br> + "Flee to thy land," replied the Form,<br> + "Flee on the black wind—away!<br> + The blast is in the hollow of my hand—<br> + Mine are the course and wrestling of the storm,<br> + The king of Soroch is my son,<br> + He bends on the hill to my shade,<br> + His battle is at Carrick of the hundred braves,<br> + And safe he shall win the victory—<br> + "Flee to thy own land, son of Cumal,<br> + Else feel to thy sorrow my rage."<br> + High he lifted his dark spear,<br> + Fiercely he bent his lofty head.<br> + Against him Fingal advanced amain, [a-fire,]<br> + His bright-blue sword in hand,<br> + Son of Loon—the swartest cheek'd.<br> + The light of the steel passed through the Spirit,<br> + The gloomy and feeble spirit of death.<br> + Shapeless he fell, yonder [opposite]<br> + On the wind of the black cairns, as smoke<br> + Which a young one breaks, rod in hand,<br> + At the hearth of smoke and struggle,<br> + The Form of Lodin shriek'd in the hill,<br> + Gathering himself in the wind,<br> + Innis-Torc heard the sound,<br> + The waves with terror stay their courses:<br> + Up rose the braves of Cumal's son.<br> + Each hand grasp'd a spear on the hill,<br> + "Where is he?" they cried with frowning rage,<br> + Each armour sounding on its lord.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="poem"> + EXTRACTS FROM FINGAL.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Cuchullin sat by the wall of Tura,<br> + In the shade of the tree of sounding leaf;<br> + His spear leant against the cave-pierced rock,<br> + His great shield by his side on the grass.<br> + The thoughts of the chief were on Cairber.<br> + A hero he had slain in battle fierce,<br> + When the watcher of the ocean came,<br> + The swift son of Fili with the bounding step.<br> + "Arise, Cuchullin, arise,<br> + I see a gallant fleet from the north,<br> + Swift bestir thee, chief of the banquet,<br> + Great is Swaran, numerous is his host!"<br> + "Moran, answered the dauntless blue-eyed,<br> + Weak and trembling wert thou aye;<br> + In thy fear the foe is numerous;<br> + Son of Fili is Fingal,<br> + High champion of the dark-mottled hills."<br> + "I saw their leader," answer'd Moran;<br> + "Like to a rock was the chief,<br> + His spear as a fir on the rocky mountain,<br> + His shield as the rising moon:<br> + He sat on a rock on the shore<br> + As the mist yonder on the hill."<br> + "Many," I said, "chief of the strangers,<br> + Are the champions that rise with thee,<br> + Strong warriors, of hardiest stroke,<br> + And keenest brand in the play of men.<br> + But more numerous and valiant are the braves<br> + That surround the windy Tura."<br> + Answer'd the brave, as a wave on a rock,<br> + "Who in this land is like me?<br> + Thy heroes could not stand in my presence;<br> + But low they should fall beneath my hand.<br> + Who is he would meet my sword?<br> + Save Fingal, king of stormy Selma.<br> + Once on a day we grasp'd each other<br> + On Melmor, and fierce was our strife.<br> + The wood fell in the unyielding fight,<br> + The streams turn'd aside, and trembled the cairn.<br> + Three days the strife was renew'd,<br> + Warriors bravest in battle trembled.<br> + On the fourth, said Fingal the king—<br> + 'The ocean chief fell in the glen.'<br> + He fell not, was my answer."<br> + Let Cuchullin yield to the chief,<br> + Who is stronger than the mountain storm.<br> + I, said the dauntless blue-eyed,<br> + Yield I shall not to living man.<br> + Cuchullin shall, resolute as he, be<br> + Great in battle, or stainless in death.<br> + Son of Fili, seize my spear,<br> + Strike the joyless and gloomy shield of Sema;<br> + Thou shalt see it high on the wall of spears;<br> + No omen of peace was its sound.<br> + Swift, son of Fili, strike the shield of Sema,<br> + Summon my heroes from forest and copse.<br> + Swift he struck the spotted [bossy] shield,<br> + Each copse and forest answer'd.<br> + Pauseless, the alarm sped through the grove;<br> + The deer and the roe started on the heath:<br> + Curtha leap'd from the sounding rock:<br> + Connal of the doughtiest spear bestirr'd himself<br> + Favi left the hind in the chase:<br> + Crugeal return'd to festive Jura.<br> + Ronan, hark to the shield of the battles,<br> + Cuchullin's land signal, Cluthair,<br> + Calmar, hither come from the ocean:<br> + With thy arms hither come, O Luthair.<br> + Son of Finn, thou strong warrior, arise;<br> + Cairber [come] from the voiced Cromlec;<br> + Bend thy knee, free-hearted Fichi.<br> + Cormag [come] from streamy Lena.<br> + Coilte, stretch thy splendid side, [limbs]<br> + Swift, travelling from Mora,<br> + Thy side, whiter than the foam, spread<br> + On the storm-vex'd sea.<br> + Then might be seen the heroes of high deeds<br> + Descending each from his own winding glen,<br> + Each soul burning with remembrance<br> + Of the battles of the time gone by of old:<br> + Their eyes kindling and searching fiercely round<br> + For the dark foe of Innisfail.<br> + Each mighty hand on the hilt of each brand<br> + Blazing, lightning flashing [<i>lit.</i>, streaming bright, like the<br> + sun] from their armour.<br> + As pours a stream from a wild glen<br> + Descend the braves from the sides of the mountains,<br> + Each chief in the mail of his illustrious sire.<br> + His stern, dark-visaged warriors behind,<br> + As the gatherings of the waters of the mountains [i.e., rain-clouds]<br> + Around the lightning of the sky.<br> + At every step was heard the sound of arms<br> + And the bark of hounds, high gambling<br> + Songs were humm'd in every mouth,<br> + Each dauntless hero eager for the strife.<br> + Cromlec shook on the face of the mountains,<br> + As they march'd athwart the heath:<br> + They stood on the inclines of the hills,<br> + As the hoary mist of autumn<br> + That closes round the sloping mountain,<br> + And binds its forehead to the sky.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem" style="margin-left: 20%"> + FINGAL, Lib. i., line 1-100.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + As rushes a gray stream in foam<br> + From the iron front of lofty Cromla;<br> + The torrent travelling the mountains,<br> + While dark night enwraps the cairns:<br> + And the cold shades of paly hue<br> + Look down from the skirts of the showers;<br> + So fierce, so great, so pitiless, so swift<br> + Advanced the hardy seed of Erin.<br> + Their chief, as the great boar [whale] of the ocean,<br> + Drawing the cold waves behind him:<br> + Pouring his strength as billows; [or <i>in</i> billows,]<br> + 'Neath his travel shakes the shore.<br> + The seed of Lochlin heard the sound,<br> + As the cold roaring stream of winter;<br> + Swift Swaran struck his shield,<br> + And spoke to the son of Arn beside him—<br> + I hear a sound on the side of the mountains,<br> + As the evening fly of slow movements;<br> + It is the gallant sons of Erin,<br> + Or a storm in the distant woodland.<br> + Like Gormal is the sound,<br> + Ere wakes the tempest in the high seas:<br> + Hie thee to the heights, son of Arn,<br> + Survey each copse and hill-side.<br> + He went, and soon return'd in terror,<br> + His eye fix'd and wild in his head;<br> + His heart beat quick against his side,<br> + His speech was feeble, slow, and broken.<br> + "Arise! thou Lord of the waves,<br> + Mighty chief of the dark shields;<br> + I see the stream of the dark-wooded mountains,<br> + I see the seed of Erin and their lord.<br> + A chariot! the mighty chariot of battle<br> + Advances with death across the plain;<br> + The well-made swift chariot of Cuchullin,<br> + The great son of Sema, mighty in danger.<br> + Behind, it bends down like a wave,<br> + Or the mist on the copse of the sharp rocks;<br> + The light of stones of power [gems] is round,<br> + As the sea round a bark at night.<br> + Of polish'd yew is the beam,<br> + The seats within are of smoothest bone;<br> + The dwelling-place of spears it is,<br> + Of shields, of swords, and of mighty men.<br> + By the right side of the great chariot<br> + Is seen the snorting, high-mettled steed;<br> + The high-maned, broad, black-chested,<br> + High-leaping, strong son of the hills.<br> + Loud and resounding is his hoof:<br> + The spread of his frontlets above<br> + Is like mist on the haunts of the elk;<br> + Bright was his aspect, and swift his going,<br> + Sith-fadda [Long-stride] is his name.<br> + By the other side of the chariot<br> + Is the arch-neck'd, snorting,<br> + Narrow-maned, high-mettled, strong-hoofed,<br> + Swift-footed, wide-nostril'd steed of the mountains,<br> + Du-sron-geal is the name of the horse.<br> + Full a thousand slender thongs<br> + Bind the chariot on high;<br> + The bright steel bits of the bridles<br> + Are cover'd with foam in their cheeks:<br> + Blazing stones, sparkling bright,<br> + Bend aloft on the manes of the steeds—<br> + Of the steeds that are like the mist on the mountains,<br> + Bearing the chief to his renown.<br> + Wilder than the deer is their aspect,<br> + Powerful as the eagle their strength;<br> + Their sound is like the savage winter<br> + On Gormal, when cover'd with snow.<br> + In the chariot is seen the chief,<br> + The mighty son of the keenest arms—<br> + Cuchullin of the blue-spotted shields.<br> + The son of Sema, renown'd in song,<br> + His cheek is as the polish'd yew;<br> + His strong eye is spreading high,<br> + 'Neath his dark-arch'd and slender brow.<br> + His yellow hair, as a blaze round his head,<br> + Pouring [waving] round the splendid face of the hero,<br> + While he draws from behind his spear.<br> + Flee, great chief of ships!<br> + Flee from the hero who comes<br> + As a storm from the glen of streams."<br> + "When did I flee? said the king of ships;<br> + When fled Swaran of the dark shields?<br> + When did I shun the threatening danger,<br> + Son of Arn—aye feeble?<br> + I have borne the tempest of the skies,<br> + On the bellowing sea of inclement showers;<br> + The sternest battles I have borne,<br> + Why should I flee from the conflict,<br> + Son of Arn, of feeblest hand?<br> + Arise my thousands on the field,<br> + Pour as the roar of the ocean,<br> + When bends the blast from the cloud,<br> + Let gallant Lochlin rise around my steel.<br> + Be ye like rocks on the edge of the ocean,<br> + In my own land of oars,<br> + That lifts the pine aloft<br> + To battle with the tempests of the sky."<br> + As the sound of autumn from two mountains<br> + Towards each other drew the braves,<br> + As a mighty stream from two rocks,<br> + Flowing, pouring on the plain;<br> + Sounding dark, fierce in battle,<br> + Met Lochlin and Innesfail.<br> + Chief mix'd his strokes with chief,<br> + Man contended with man,<br> + Steel clang'd on steel,<br> + Helmets are cleft on high,<br> + Blood is pouring fast around,<br> + The bow-string twangs on the polish'd yew;<br> + Arrows traverse the sky,<br> + Spears strike and fall,<br> + As the bolt of night on the mountains,<br> + As the bellowing seething of the ocean,<br> + When advance the waves on high;<br> + Like the torrent behind the mountains<br> + Was the gloom and din of the conflict.<br> + Though the hundred bards of Cormag were there,<br> + And their songs described the combat,<br> + Scarcely could they tell<br> + Of each headless corpse and death—<br> + Many were the deaths of men and chiefs,<br> + Their blood spreading on the plain.<br> + Mourn, ye race of songs,<br> + For Sith-alum the child of the braves:<br> + Evir, heave thy snowy breast<br> + For gallant Ardan of fiercest look.<br> + As two roes that fall from the mountain,<br> + [They fell] 'neath the hand of dark-shielded Swaran;<br> + While dauntless he moved before his thousands,<br> + As a spirit in the cloudy sky,<br> + A spirit that sits in cloud,<br> + Half made by mist from the north,<br> + When bends the lifeless mariner<br> + A look of woe on the summit of the waves.<br> + Nor slept thy hand by the side,<br> + Chief of the isle of gentle showers;<br> + Thy brand was in the path of spoils,<br> + As lightning flashing thick,<br> + When the people fall in the glen,<br> + And the face of the mountain, as in a blaze,<br> + [Or is seething white with torrents,]<br> + Du-sron-geal snorted over brave men,<br> + Sith-fadda wash'd his hoof in blood,<br> + Behind him lay full many a hero,<br> + As a wood on Cromla of the floods,<br> + When moves the blast through the heath,<br> + With the airy ghosts of night.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Weep on the sounding rock,<br> + Noble daughter of the isle of ships;<br> + Bend thy splendid countenance over the sea,<br> + Thou lovelier than a spirit in the woods,<br> + Rising up soft and slow<br> + As a sunbeam in the silence of the hills.<br> + He fell, soon he fell in the battle,<br> + The youth of thy love is pale,<br> + 'Neath the sword of great Cuchullin.<br> + What has made thee so wan and cold?<br> + He will move no more to hardy deeds,<br> + He will not strike the high blood of heroes;<br> + Trenar, youthful Trena has fallen in death;<br> + Maid, them shalt see thy love no more for ever.<br> + His hounds howl piteously<br> + At home, as they see his ghost,<br> + His bow is unstrung and bare;<br> + His death-sound is on the knoll, [<i>i.e.</i>, on the knoll he<br> + utters his death-groan.]<br> + As roll a thousand waves to the shore,<br> + So under Swaran advanced the foe;<br> + As meets the shore a thousand waves,<br> + So Erin met the king of ships.<br> + Then arose the voices of death,<br> + The sound of battle-shout and clang of arms,<br> + Shields and mail lay broken on the ground.<br> + A sword like lightning was high in each hand,<br> + The noise of battle rose from wing to wing,<br> + Of battle, roaring, bloody, hot,<br> + As a hundred hammers striking wild,<br> + By turns, showers of red sparks from the glowing forge.<br> + Who are those on hilly Sena?<br> + Who of darkest and fiercest gloom?<br> + Who likest to the murkiest cloud?<br> + The sword of each chief as fire on the waves,<br> + The face of the woods is troubled,<br> + The wave-beat rock shakes on the shore.<br> + Who, but Swaran of ships<br> + And the chief of Erin, renown'd in song?<br> + The eye of the hosts beholds aside<br> + The encounter of the mighty heroes.<br> + Night descended on the combat of the braves,<br> + And hid the undecided conflict.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem" style="margin-left: 20%"> + FINGAL, Book i., 313-502.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +THE END +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +<i>Ballantyne, Roberts, and Company, Printers, Edinburgh.</i> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76787 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + + diff --git a/76787-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/76787-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c30745 --- /dev/null +++ b/76787-h/images/img-cover.jpg |
