^'^■y •3^ ^.fp^rm^ "^?i?i :ici§|| ,4 w^^ ^ 4W^ 11/ VlJJXp 7, . ;V£ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES «<-,»v •^i .^^ fen am Mm ^^■'' ^i\^ '^v^^ ^v-*^"^-^' HISTOEICA Lior ''■■ - -)'.. TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE HIGHLANDS. COMPILED BY ALEXANDER MACKENZIE, EDITOR OF THE "CELTIC MAGAZINE," AUTHOR OF THE " HISTORY OF THE CLAN MACKENZIE," THE " PROPHECIES OF THE BRAHAN SEER," &C., &C. 'S iomadh rud a clii Am fear a bhitheas fada beo." INVERNESS: A, i W. MACKENZIE, CELTIC MAGAZINE OFFICE EDINBURGH : MACLACHLAN i STEWART, 18 7 8. /Vi 1 '( K PREFACE These Tales and Legends were very favourably received by a wide circle of readers, and by the Press generally, as they appeared from month to month in the Celtic Magazine. They are now pub- lished in a collected form at the request of many who have previously perused them. I would like to present the public with the names of their authors ; but as one of them— the " Norman " and " Torquil " of the Celtic Magazine— 6h}Qct& to have his name made public, although he has written the greater number of them, I must content myself now by taking advantage of this opportunity to thank him, "Mac Iain," and the others who supplied the Tales and Legends, the merits of which — especially those for which I may be held personally responsible — I propose to leave to the tender mercies of an in- dulgent public. ALEX. MACKENZIE. Celtic Magazine Office, Inverness, September 1878. ^ * ' > t ) / > c •• (T-i C O IsT T E IsT T S - PAGE Locality ... ... ... ... ... 1 lO -*he Spell of CadboU 7 Prince Charlie and Mary Macleod 17 James Macpherson, the famous Musician and Freebooter 25 The First Ganger in Skye 32 f; •» The Raid of Cillechriost 75 Lachlan Og Mackinnon and the Skye Factor 83 James Grant of Carron ... ... ... ... ••• 88 John Mackay of Farr 94 The Cummings of Badenoch .. ... ... ..- 10^ Glengarry and his Favourite ... ... ... •■• 108 Castle Urquhart and the Fugitive Lovers 114 (o ,^The Fairies and Donald Duaghal Mackay 122 Young Glengarry, the Black Kaven 128 Cawdor Castle 132 A Legend of Invershin ... ... ... ..• •■• 137 The Bonnie Earl of Moray 143 The Rout of Moy 160 A Legend of Loch Maree ... ... ••• 165 (.Q .«- Allan Donn and Annie Campbell ... 189 /' I ~- Mary Macleod of Marrig 199 HISTORICAL TALES & LEGENDS OF THE HIGHLANDS. LOCALITY. We are in a West Coast village or township, cut off from all communication with the outer world, without Steamers, Railways, even Roads. We grow om* own corn, produce our own beef, our mutton, our butter, our cheese, and our wool. We do our own carding, our spinning, and our weaving. We marry and are taken in marriage by, and among, our own kith and kin. In short, we are almost en- tirely independent of the more civilized and more favoured South. The few articles we do not produce — tobacco and tea — our local merchant, the only one in a district about forty square miles in extent, car- ries on his back, once a month or so, from the Capi- tal of the Highlands. We occasionally indulge in a little whisky at Christmas and the New Year, at our weddings and our balls. We make it, too, and 2 Tales and Legends. Ave make it well. The Salmon Fishery Acts are, as yet, not strictly enforced, and we can occasionally shoot — sometimes even in our gardens — and carry home, without fear of serious molestation, the mon- arch of the forest. We are not overworked. We live plainly but well, on fresh fish, potatoes and herring, porridge and milk, beef and mutton, eggs, butter, and cheese. Modern pickles and spices are as unknown as they are unnecessary. True, our houses are built not according to the most modern principles of architecture. They are, in most cases, built of undressed stone and moss (coinneach), thatched with turf or divots, generally covered over with straw or ferns held on by a covering of old herring nets, straw, and rope, or siaman. The houses are usually divided into three apart- ments — one door in the byre end leading to the whole. Immediately we enter, we find ourselves among the cattle. A stone wall, or sometimes a partition of clay and straw separates the byre from the kitchen. Another partition, usually of a more elegant description, separates the latter from the "culaist," or sleeping apartment. In the centre of the kitchen a pavement of three or four feet in diameter is laid, slightly raised towards the middle, on which is placed the peat fire. The smoke, by a kind of instinct peculiar to peat smoke, finds its way to a hole in the roof called the "falas," and makes its escape. The fire in the centre of the room was almost a necessity of the good old Ceilidh days. When the people congregated in the evening, the circle could be extended to the full capacity of the room, and occasional!}' it became necessary to have a circle within a circle. A few extra peats on the fire would, at any time, by the additional heat pro- duced, cause an extension of the circle, and at the same time send its ~warming influences to the utmost Locality. 3 recesses of the apartment. The circle became ex- tended by merely pushing back the seats, and this arrangement became absolutely necessary in the houses which were most celebrated as the great Ceilidh centres of the district. The Ceilidh rendezvous is the house in which all the folk-lore of the country, all the old " sgeul- achdan," or stories, the ancient poetry known to the bards, or Seanachaidhean, the old riddles and pro- verbs are recited from night to night by old and young. All who took an interest in such questions congregated in the evening in these centres of song and story. They were also great centres of local industry. Net-making was the staple occupation, at which the younger members of the circle had to take a spell in turn. Five or six nets were attached in different corners of the apartment to a chair, a bedstead, or to a post set up for the purpose, and an equal number of young gossippers nimbly plied their fingers at the rate of a pound of yarn a-day. Thus, a large number of nets were turned out during the winter months, the proceeds of which, when the nets were not made for the members of the household, went to pay for tobacco and other luxuries for the older and most necessitous members of the circle. We shall now introduce the reader to the most famous Ceilidh house in the district. It is such as we have above described. The good-man is border- ing on five-score. He is a bard of no mean order, often delighting his circle of admiring friends with his own compositions, as well as with those of Ossian and other ancient bards. He holds a responsible office in the church, is ground-officer for the laird as well as family bard. He possesses the only Gaelic New Testament in the district. He lives in the old house with three sons whose ages range from 75 to 68, all full of Highland song and story, especially 4 Tales and Legends. the youngest two — John and Donald. When in the district, drovers from Lochaber, Badenoch, and all parts of the Highlands find their way to this noted Ceilidh house. Bards, itinerants of all sorts, travel- ing tinkers, pipers, fiddlers, and mendicants, who loved to hear or tell a good story, recite an old poem or compose a modern one, all come and are well received among the regular visitors in the famous establishment. In the following pages strangers and local celebrities will recite their tales, those of their own districts, as also those picked up in their wan- derings throughout the various parts of the country. It was a condition never deviated from, that every one in the house took some part in the evening's performance, with a story, a poem, a riddle, or a proverb. This rule was not only wholesome, but one which almost became a necessity to keep the company select, and the house from becoming over- crowded. A large oak chair was placed in a parti- cular spot — " where the sun rose" — the occupant of which had to commence the evening's entertainment when the company assembled, the consequence being that this seat, although one of the best in the house, was usually the last occupied; and in some cases, when the house was not overcrowded, it was never occupied at all. In the latter case, the one who sat next to it on the left had to commence the evening's proceedings. It was no uncommon thing to see one of the com- pany obliged to coin something for the occasion when otherwise unprepared. On one occasion the bard's grandson happened to find himself in the oak chair, and was called upon to start the night's enter- tainment. Being in his own house he was not quite prepared for the unanimous and imperative demand made upon him to cany out the usual rule, or leave the room. After some hesitation, and a little private Locality. 5 humming in an undertone, he commenced, however, a rythmical description of his grandfather's house, which is so faithful that, we think, we cannot do better than give it. The picture was complete, and brought down the plaudits of the house upon the "young bard" as he was henceforth designated. TiGH MO ShEANAIE. An cuala sibh riamh mu'n tigh aig I r 'S ann air tha'n cleanamh tha ciallach ceart, 'S iomadh bliadhna o'n chaidh a dheanamh, Ach 's mor as fhiach e ged tha e sean ; Se duine ciallach chuir ceanna-crioch air, 'S gur mor am pianadh a fhuair a phears, Le clachan mora ga'n cuir an ordugh, 'S Sament do choinntich ga'n cumail ceart. Tha dorus mor air ma choinneamh 'n-otraich, 'Us cloidhean oir air ga chumail glaist, Tha uinneag chinn air ma choinneamh 'n teintean, 'Us screen side oirre 'dh-fhodar glas ; Tha'n ceann a bhan deth o bheul an fhalais A deanamh baithach air son a chruidh 'S gur cubhraidh am faladh a thig gu laidir leid na batha 'sa ghamhuinn duibh. Tha catha 's culaist ga dheanamh diibailt, 'S gnr mor an urnais tha anns an tigh, Tha seidhir-ghairdean do dharacli laidir, 'Us siaman ban air ga chumail ceart, Tha lota lair ann, do ghrebhail cathair, 'S cha chaith 's cha chnamh e gu brath n' am feasd, Tha carpad mor air do luath na moine, 'S upstairs ceo ann le cion na vent. Tha sparan suithe o thaobh gu taobh ann, 'Us ceangail luibte gan cumail ceart, Tha tuthain chaltuinn o cheann gu ceann deth, 'Us maide slabhraidh 's gur mor a neart, Tha lathais laidir o bheul an fhail air, Gu ruig am falas sgur mor am fad, Tha ropan siamain 'us pailteas lion air 'S mar eil e dionach cha 'n eil mi ceart. On one occasion, on a dark and stormy winter's night, the lightning flashing through the heavens, the thunder clap loud and long, the wind blowing furiously, and heavy dark ominous clouds gathering 6 Tales and Legends. in the north-west, the circle had ah'eady gathered, and ahnost every seat was occupied. It was the evening of the day of one of the local cattle markets. Three men came in, two of them well-known drovers or cattle buyers who had visited the house on previous occasions, the other a gentleman who had, some time previously, arrived and taken up his quarters in the district. No one knew who he was, where he came from, or what his name was. There were all sorts of rumours floating amongst the in- habitants regarding him ; that he had committed some crime, and escaped from justice; that he was a gentleman of high estate, who had fallen in love with a lowly maiden and run away to spite his family for objecting to the alliance; and various other surmises. He was discovered to be a gentle- man and a scholar, and particularly frank and free in his conversation with the people about everything except his own history and antecedents, and was a walking encyclopjedia of all kinds of legendary lore connected with the southern parts of the country. His appearance caused quite a flutter among the assembled rustics. He was, however, heartily wel- comed by the old bard and members of the circle, and was offered a seat a little to the left of the oak arm chair. It was soon found that he was a perfect master of Gaelic as well as English. It was also found on further acquaintance, during many subse- quent visits, that he never told a story or legend without a preliminary introduction of his own, told in such a manner as to add immensely to the interest of the tale. Being called upon, he told the " Spell of CadboU." These remarks are taken from the introduction to the Highland Ceilidh in the " Celtic Magazine," at which the following Talcs, the reader must assume, have been told by the various characters who fre- quented the Ceilidh house. The Spell of Cadholl. THE SPELL OF OADBOLL. In olden days the east coast of Scotland was studded with fortresses, which, like a crescent chain of sentinels, watched carefully for the protection of their owners and their dependents. The ruins remain and raise their hoary heads over valley and stream, by river bank and sea shore, along which nobles, and knights, and followers "boden in effeyre- weir" went gallantly to their fates; and where in the Highlands many a weary drove followed from the foray, in which they had been driven far from Lowland pastures or distant glens, with whose in- habitants a feud existed. Could the bearded warriors, who once thronged these halls, awake, they would witness many a wonderful change since the half-forgotten days when they lived and loved, revelled and fought, conquered or sustained defeat. Where the bearer of the Orann-taraidh or fiery cross once rushed along on his hasty errand, the lightning of heaven now flashes, by telegraphic wires, to the farthest corners of the land. Through the craggy passes, and along the level plains, marked centuries ago with scarce a bridle path, the mighty steam horse now thunders over its iron road; and where seaward once swam the skin curach, or the crazy fleets of diminutive war galleys, and tiny merchant vessels with their fantastic prows and sterns, and carved mast-heads, the huge hull of the steam pro- pelled ship now breasts the waves that dash against the rugged headlands, or floats like a miniature volcano, with its attendant clouds of smoke obscur- ing the horizon. The parish of Fearn, in Easter Ross, contains 8 Tales and Legends. several antiquities of very distant date. One of these shattered relics, Castle Cadboll, deserves notice on accoimt of a singular tradition regarding it, once implicitly credited by the people — namely, that al- though inhabited for ages no person ever died within its walls. Its magical quality did not, however, prevent its dwellers from the suffering of disease, or the still more grievous evils attending on debility and old age. Hence many of the denisons of the castle became weary of life, particularly the Lady May, who lived there centuries ago, and wlio being long ailing, and longing for death, requested to be can-ied out of the building to die. Her importunity at length prevailed; and, according to the tradition, no sooner did she leave it than she expired. Castle Cadboll is situated on the sea-shore, looking over the broad ocean towards Norway. From that country, in the early ages of Scottish history, came many a powerful Jarl, or daring Viking, to the coasts, which, in comparison with their own land, seemed i'ertile and wealthy. There is a tradition of a Highland clan having sprung from one of those adventurers, who with his brother agreed that who- ever should first touch the land would possess it by right. The foremost was the ultimate ancestor of the tribe ; his boat was almost on shore, when the other, by a vigorous stroke, shot a-head of him ; but ere he could disembark, the disappointed competitor, with an exclamation of rage, cut off his left hand with his hatchet, and flinging the bloody trophy on the rocks, became, by thus " first touching Scottish ground," the owner of the country, and founder of the clan. The perfect accuracy of this story cannot now be vouched for; but it is an undeniable fact that the Clan Macleod have successfully traced, their origin to a Norwegian source ; and there is a pro- The Spell of Cadboll. 9 bability that the claim is correct from the manifestly Norwegian names borne by the founders of the Clan Tormod and Torquil, hence the Siol Tormod — the race of Tormod — the Macleods of Harris ; and the Siol Torquil, the race of Torquil — Macleods of Lewis — of whom came the Macleods of Assynt, one of whom betrayed Montrose in 1650, and from whom the estates passed away in the end of the seventeenth century to the Mackenzies. The Macleods of Cadboll are cadets of the house of Assynt, but to what branch the Lady May of the legend belonged, it is difficult to decide, so many changes having occurred among Highland pro- prietors. The cliffs of this part of Eoss-shire are wild and precipitous, sinking with a sheer descent of two hundred feet to the ocean. The scenery is more rugged than beautiful — little verdure and less foli- age. Trees are stunted by the bitter eastern blast, and the soil is poor. Alders are, however, plentiful, and from them the parish has derived its name of Fearn. There is a number of caves in the cliffs along the shore towards Tarbat, where the pro- montory is bold, and crowned with a lighthouse, whose flickering rays are now the only substitute for the wondej'ful gem which was said of yore to sparkle on the brow of one of these eastern cliffs — a bountiful provision of nature for the succour of the wave-tossed mariner. During the reign of one of the early k^tuart kings — which, is of little moment — Roderick Macleod ruled with a high and lordly hand within the feudal strong- hold of Cadboll. He was a stout and stern knight, whose life had been spent amidst the turmoil of national warfare and clan strife. Many a battle had he fought, and many a wound received since first he buckled on his father's sword 10 Tales and Legends. for deadly combat. Amid the conflicting interests which actuated each neighbouring clan — disagree- ment on any one of which rendered an immediate appeal to arms the readiest mode of solving the difficulty — it is not to be wondered at that Cadboll, as a matter of prudence, endeavoured to attach to himself, by every means in his power, those who were most likely to be serviceable and true. Mac- leod had married late in life, and his wife dying soon after, while on a visit to her mother, left be- hind her an only daughter, who was dear as the apple of his eye to the old warrior, but, at the same time, he had no idea of any one connected with him having any freedom of will or exercise of opinion, save what he allowed ; nor did he believe women's hearts were less elastic than his own, which he could bend to any needful expedient. About the period our story commences, the Lady May was nearly eighteen years of age, a beautiful and gentle girl, whose hand Avas sought by many a young chief of the neighbouring clans; but all unsuccessfully, for the truth was she already loved, and was beloved, in secret, by 3'(ning Hugh Munro from the side of Ben-Wyvis. The favoured of the daughter was not the choice of her ftither, simply because he was desirous to secure the aid of the Macraes, a tribe occupying Glenshiel, remarkable for great size and courage, and known in history as " the wild Macraes." The chief — Macrae of Inverinate — readily fell in with the views of Macleod, and as the time fixed for his marriage with the lovely Lady May drew nigh, gratified triumph over his rival Munro, and hate intense as a being of such fierce passions could feel, glowed like a gleaming light in his fierce grey eyes. '■ Once more," he said, " I will to the mountains to find him before the bridal. There shall be no The Spell of Cadholl. 11 chance of a leman crossing my married life, and none to divide the love Inverinate shall possess entire. By my father's soul, but the boy shall rue the hour he dared to cross my designs. Yes, rue it, for I swear to bring him bound to witness my mar- riage, and then hang him like a skulking wild-cat on Inverinate green." It was nightfall as he spoke thus. Little he knew that at the same moment Hugh Munro was sitting beneath the dark shadows of the alder trees, which grew under the window of the little chamber where May Macleod was weeping bitterly over the sad fate from which she could see no way of escape. As she sat thus the soft cry of the cushat fell upon her ears. Intently she listened for a few moments, and when it was repeated she stepped to the window and opened it cautiously, leaning forth upon the sill. Again the sound stole from among the foliage, and May peered down into the gloom, but nothing met her gaze save the shadows of the waving branches upon the tower wall. " It is his signal," she whispered to herself as the sound was repeated once more. " All me! I fear he will get himself into danger on account of these visits, and yet I cannot, I cannot bid him stay away." She muffled herself in a dark plaid, moved to- wards the door, opened it cautiously, and listening with dread, timidly ventured down to meet her lover. " I must and will beg him to-night to stay away in future," continued she, as she tripped cautiously down the narrow winding stair; "and yet to stay away? Ah me! it is to leave me to my misery; but it must be done, unkind as it may be, other- wise he will assuredly be captured and slain, for I fear Macrae suspects our meetings are not confined to the day and my father's presence." 12 Tales and Legends. After stealing through many dark passages, cor- ridors, and staircases, in out-of-the-way nooks, she emerged into the open air, through a neglected postern shadowed by a large alder, opposite the spot from which the sound proceeded. Again she gazed into the shadow, and there lean- ing against a tree, growing on the edge of the crag, she saw a tall slender figure. Well she knew the outlines of that form, and fondly her heart throbbed at the sound of the voice which now addressed her. "Dearest," said the voung Munro in a low tone, " I thought thou wouldst never come. I have been standing here like a statue against the trunk of this tree for the last half-hour watching for one blink of light from thy casement. But it seems that thou preferest darkness. Ah May, dear May, cease to in- dulge in gloomy forebodings." " Would that I could, Hugh," she answered sadly. " What thoughts but gloomy ones can fill my mind when I am ever thinking of the danger you incur by coming here so often, and thinking, too, of the woeful fate to which we are both destined." " Think no more of it," said her lover in a cheer- ful tone. " We have hope yet." " Alas, there is no hope. Even this day my father hath fixed the time for, to me, this dreaded wedding! And now, Hugh, let this be our last meeting — Mar ilia mi ! our last in the world. Wert thou caught by Invei-inate, he so hates thee, he would have thy life by the foulest means." " Fear not for that, dearest. And this bridal ! Listen, May; before that happen the eagle will swoop down and bear thee away to his free moun- tains, amid their sunny glens and bosky wood, to love thee, darling, as no other mortal, and certainly none of the Clan-'ic-Rath mhearlaich has heart to do." The Spell of Gadboll. 1 « "Ah me!" sighed May, "would that it could be so. I cannot leave my father until all other hope is gone, and yet I fear if I do not we are fated to be parted. Even this may be the last time we may meet. I warn thee, Hugh, I am well watched, and I beg you will be careful. Hush ! was that a foot- fall in the grove below the crag?" and she pointed to a clump of trees at some distance under where they were standing, and on the path by which he would return. " By my troth it may be so," said he. " Better, dear May, retire to your chamber, and I shall remain here till you bid me good night from your window." Again they listened, and again the rustling met their ears distinctly. It ceased, and the maiden, bid- ing her mountain lover a fond good night, ascended to her chamber, while he, disdaining to be frightened away by sound, moved to his former position below the alder tree. Seating himself at its root, with his eyes fixed on the window, in a voice low but dis- tinct, he sang to one of the sweet sad lays of long ago a ditty to his mistress, of which the following paraphrase will convey an idea : — "0 darling May, my promised bride, List to my love— come fly with me, Where down the dark Ben Wyvis side The torrent dashes wild and free. O'er sunny glen and forest brake ; O'er meadow green and mountain grand ; O'er rocky gorge and gleaming lake — Come, — reign, the lady of the land. " Come cheer my lonely mountain home, Where gleams the lake, where riUs dance bright; Where flowers bloom fair — come, dearest, come, And light my dark and starless night. One witching gleam from thy bright eye Can change to halls of joy my home I One song, one softly-uttered sigh, Can cheer my lone heart — dearest, come." 14 Tales and Legends. The moment the song ceased the fair form of May Macleod appeared at the casement overhead, she waved a fond farewell to her mountain minstrel, and closed the window ; but the light, deprived of her fair face, had no charm for him — he gazed once more at the pane through which it beamed like a solitary star, amid the masses of foliage, and was turning away when he found a heavy hand laid on his shoulder. " Stay," exclaimed the intruder in a deep stern voice, whose tone the young chief knew but too well, " Thou hast a small reckoning to discharge ere thou go, my good boy. I am Macrae." " And T," answered the other, " am Hugh Munro, what seek'st thou from me ?" " That thou shalt soon know, thou skulking hill cat," answered Macrae, throwing his unbuckled sword, belt, and scabbard on the ground, and ad- vancing with extended weapon. "Indeed! then beware of the wild-cat's spring," Munro promptly replied, giving a sudden bound which placed him inside the guard of his antagonist, whose waist he instantly encircled with his sinewy arms with the design of hurling him over the crag on which they stood. The struggle was momentary. Munro, struck to the heart with Macrae's dagger, fell with May's loved name on his lips, while Macrae, staggering over the height, in the act of falling so wounded himself by his own weapon as to render his future life one of helpless manhood and bitter mental regret. Macleod was soon after slain in one of the many quarrels of the time, while his daughter May, the sorrowing heiress of the broad lands of Cadboll, lived on for fifty years one long unrelieved day of suffering. Fifty years! alas for the mourner — spring sue- The Spell of Cadholl 15 ceeded winter, and suinmer spring, bnt no change of season lightened May Macleod's burden ! Fifty years ! year by year passing away only brought changes to those who lived under her gentle sway, and among the dependents of her home ; youth passed into age, young men and maidens filled the places of the valued attendants of her girlhood; and the lady, solitary, still a mourner, in her feudal tower grew old and bent, thin and wan, but still in her heart the love of her youth bloomed fresh for her betrothed. And then disease laid hold of her limbs — para- lyzed, unable to move, she would fain have died, but the spell of Cadboll was on her, death could not enter within its walls. Sickness and pain, care and grief, disappoint- ment, trust betrayed, treachery, and all the ills which life is heir to, all might and did enter there. Death alone was barred without. Sadly her maidens listened to her heart-breaking appeals to the spirit of Munro, her unwed husband, the murdered bridegroom of her young life, to come to her aid from the land of shadows and of silence. They knew her story of the fifty years of long ago, and they pitied and grieved with her, wondering at the constancy of her woman's heart. Still more sadly did they listen to her appeals to be carried out from the castle to the edge of the precipice, where the power of the spell ceased, there to look for, meet and welcome death ; but they knew not the story of the spell, and they deemed her mad with grief. Terrified at last by her appeals to the dead, with whom she seemed to hold continual conversation, and who seemed to be present in the chamber with them, though unseen, and partly, at length, worn out with her unceasing importunities, and partly to 16 Tales and Legends. gratify the whim, as they considered it, of the sufferer, tremblingly they agreed to obey her re- quests and to carry her forth to the edge of the cliff. A frightened band, they bore the Lady May, lying on her couch, smiling with hope and blessing them for thus consenting. Over the threshold, over the draw-bridge, her eyes, fixed on the heavens, brightened as they proceeded. Hope flushed with hectic glow upon her pale suffering face, grateful thanks broke from her lips. Hastening their steps, they passed through the gate, wound along the hill side, and as the broad expanse of ocean, with the fresh wind curling it into wavelets, burst upon the sight, a flash of rapture beamed on her countenance, a cry of joy rushed from her pallid lips — their feeble burden grew heavier ; a murmur of welcom- ing delight was uttered to some glorious presence, unseen by the maidens, and all became hushed eternally. The Lady May lay on her couch a stiffening corpse. The spell of Cadboll had been broken at last. A Macleod inhabited it no more, and decay and ruin seized on the hoary pile of which now scarcely a vestige remains to tell of the former extent and feudal strength of Castle Cadboll. Prince Charlie and Mary Macleod. 17 PEINOE CHARLIE AND MARY MACLEOD. The fate of the Chevalier and his devoted High- landers forms one of the most romantic and darkest themes in the history of Scotland, so rich in histori- cal narrative, song, and tradition — Still freshly streaming When pride and pomp have passed away, To mossy tomb and turret grey, Like friendship clinging. In the contemplation, of their misfortunes, their faults and failings are forgotten, and now that the unfortunate Chevalier's name and memory have be- come "such stuff as dreams are made of," every heart throbs in sympathy with the pathetic lyric " Oh ! wae's me for Prince Charlie." In the present daj^, when it is not accounted dis- loyal to speak kindly of the Prince, or of those who espoused his cause — one cannot help indulging in admiration of the courage and cheerfulness with which he bore trials, dangers, and "hairbreadth 'scapes by flood and field," nor wonder at the de- votedness of the poorer Highlanders; their affection to his person; the care with which they Vvatched over him in his wanderings; and, above all, the in- corruptible fidelity which scorned to betray him, though tempted by what, in their poverty, must have seemed inconceivable wealth. The history of the rising, and particularly of what followed after Culloden, relating to Prince Charlie, although generally minute, gives but little idea of the wonderful dangers he incurred, and the escapes B 18 Tales and Legends. he made. One should, in order to form a moderately correct idea of his hardships, have listened to those who had been out with him, as they, in the late evening of their days, talked of the past, and of the " lad they looed sae dearly," or heard their descend- ants, who were proud of their forbears, having been out in the '45, when — The story was told, as a legend old, And by withered dame and sire, When they sat secure from the winter's cold. All around the evening fire. His capabilities of enduring cold, hunger, and fatigue prove that his constitution was of a very high order, and not what might have been expected from the descendant of a hundred kings brought up in the enervating atmosphere of courts. The mag- nanimity was surprising with which he bore up under his adverse lot, and the very trying privations to which he was subjected. The buoyancy of spirit with which he encountered the toils that hemmed him round, seemed to gather fresh energy from each recurring escape while wandering about, a hunted fugitive. His appearance when concealed in the cave of Achnacarry as described by Dr Cameron, who was for a time a companion of his wanderings, is not sug- gestive of much comfort, but rather of contentedly making the most of circumstances. " He was then," says Dv Cameron, "barefooted; he had an old black kilt and coat on, a plaid, philabeg, and waistcoat, a dirty shirt, and a long red beard, a gun in his hand, a pistol and dirk by his side. He was very cheer- ful and in good health, and, in my opinion, fatter than when he was at Inverness." His courage and patience during his wandering drew forth even the admiration of his enemies, while his friends regretted that one capable of so much was so wanting in de- Prince Charlie and Mary Madeod. 19 cisioii of character when it was urgently required by his own affairs, and the fortunes and lives of those who had perilled all for his sake. His friends, rich and poor, "for a' that had come and gane," were staunch in his favour to the very death; while his enemies, hounded on by a scared and vindictive Go\'ernment, and earnestly anxious to enrich them- selves by obtaining the reward offered for his capture, left no means untried to secure his person. Among the many who signalized themselves in these attempts was one Ferguson, who, in command of a small squadron, cruised round the coast in search of the Prince and his fugitive friends, but in reality sparing none on whom it was possible or not danger- ous to vent those feelings of oppression and worse, wh^ch the cruel Cumberland had made a fashion as regards Highlanders and the Highlands, and a sure recommendation to the notice of Government. Soon after Culloden, Ferguson appeared off the coast and dropped anchor in Loch Cunnard. A party landed there and proceeded up the strath as far as the residence of Mackenzie of Langwell, who was married to a near relation of Earl George of Cromartie. Mackenzie got out of the way, but the lady was obliged to attend some of her children who wei-e confined by small-pox. The house was ran- saclced, a trunk containing valuable papers, and among these a wadset of Langwell and Inchvennie from the Earl of Cromartie, was burnt before her eyes, and about fifty head of black cattle were mangled by their swords and driven away to their ships. Similar depredations were committed in the neighbourhood, without discrimination of friends or enemies. So familiarized were the west Highlanders and Islanders with Captain Ferguson, his cutter and crew, that they were in the habit of jeering him and 20 Tales and Legends. ' them by calling after them — "Tha sinn eolach air a h-uile car a tha ria t'eaman" — (We are acquainted with every turn in your tail) — a source of great irri- tation to the annoyed commander, who knew well the fugitives were hiding on the West Coast of In- verness-shire, and consequently resolved to adopt every species of decoy to entrap the Prince and his companions. To deceive the inhabitants of this wild and extensive coast, Ferguson pretended to give over the search and leave for Ireland. The Highlanders, wondering what would be the next move, were not deceived, nor did they relax their watchful precautions. The dwellers at iSamalaman, the most western point of Moidart, had been especi- ally harassed, as it was suspected they were in the confidence of Prince Charles. The suspicion v/as correct, and therefore, although they went about their usual employments they kept many an anxious look towards the ocean — many a lonely watch and walk was taken for the protection of the hunted wanderers. To those who are not oppressed by anxiety the look-out from this headland is of surpassing beauty. Few scenes are equal to that presented in a midnight walk by moonlight along the sea beach, the glossy sea sending from its surface a long stream of dancing and dazzling light, no sound to be heard save the small ripple of the idle wavelets or the scream of a sea bird watching the fry that swarms along the shores ! In the short nights of summer the melan- choly song of the throstle has scarcely ceased on :he hillside when the merr}' carol of the lark commences, and the snipe and the plover sound their .shrill pipe. Again, how glorious is the scene which presents itself from the sunmiits of the hills when the great ocean is seen glowing with the last splendour of the setting sun, and the lofty hills of the farther isles Prince Charlie and Mary Macleod. 21 rear their giant heads amid the })urple blaze on the extreme vercje of the horizon. Nothing of all this, for they were sights and scenes of continual recurrence, did Mary Macleod feel. Mary was a bold, spirited, handsome girl, who, in company with her father and two brothers forming the boat's crew, knew well all ocean's moods, and often braved the storms so common on that coast, and so fatal to many toilers of the deep. On the morning of the fifth day after the depar- ture of Captain Ferguson, Mary arose as usual to prepare the food for the family, and in going outside for a basket of peat fuel was surprised to observe a strange looking little vessel at anchor in a dark creek in the opposite island of Shona which partly occupies the mouth of Loch-Moidart. Time was when a cir- cumstance, so apparently trivial, would have created no wonder nor left in the mind any cause for sus- picion ; but now Mary carefully scanned the low long dark hull of the craft, and her tanned and patched sails, which ill agreed with the trimness about her, and which at once spoke against her being a fishing craft or smuggler. " Cuilean an t-seann mhadaidh" (cub of the old fox) sighed the girl as she returned to the house to communicate the circumstance to the rest of the family, each of whom on reconnoitring the vessel confirmed her opinion. " Well then," said Mary, " let us advise the neighbours to betake themselves to their daily em- ployment without seeming to suspect the new comer, and above all let us warn the deer of the mountain that the bloodhounds have appeared." As the Moidart men were about to go to sea they were visited by a couple of miserable looking men from the suspected craft. One of them who spoke in Irish made them understand that they had lately left the coast of France laden with tobacco and spirits, some of which they would gladly exchange 22- Tales and Legends. for dried fish and other provisions of which they were much in want, having been pursued for the last three days by an armed cutter, from which they had escaped with difficulty, and from which they in- tended to conceal themselves for some days longer in their present secluded anchorage. The fishermen, pretending to commiserate their condition, replied that they had no provisions to spare, and left only more convinced that Mary's suspicions were well founded. Matters remained in this state for a few days, the craft lying quietly at anchor, and her six hands, being, it was said, the full complement of her crew, sneaking about in all directions, in pairs, on pretence of searching for provisions. At last, after an unusually line day the sun sank suddenly behind a mountain mass of clouds which for some time before had been collecting into dense columns, whose tall and fantastic shapes threw an obscurity far over the western horizon. The coming storm was so apparent that the fisher- men of Samalaman secured their boats upon the beach just as some heavy drops, bursting from the region of the storm clouds, showed that the elemen- tal war had begun. The Atlantic rolled its enormous billows upon the coast, dashing them with inconceivable fury upon the headlands, and scourincr the sands and creeks, Avhich, from the number of shoals and sunken rocks in them, exhibited the magnificent spectacle of breakers white with foam extending for miles. The blast howled amot)g the grim and desolate rocks. Still greater masses of black clouds advanced from the west, pouring forth torrents of rain and hail. A sudden flash illuminated the gloom, and was followed b}^ the crash and roar of thiinder which gradually became fainter until the dash of the waves upon the shore prevailed over it. Far as the eye could reach the ocean boiled and Prince Charlie and Mary Macleod. 23 heaved in one wide extended field of foam, the spray from the sunnnits of the waves sweeping along its surface like drifting snow. Seaward no sign of life was to be seen, save when a gull, labouring hard to bear itself against the breeze, hovered overhead, or shot across the gloom like a meteor. Long ranges of giant waves rushed in succession to the shore, chasing each other like mon- sters at play. The thunder of their shock echoed among the crevices and caves, the spi-ay mounted along the face of the cliffs in columns, the rocks shook as if in terror, and the bafiled wave returned to meet its advancing successor. By-and-bye there came a pause like the sudden closing of a blast furnace, or as if the storm had re- tired within itself; but now and then, in fitful bursts, proclaiming that its power was but partially smothered. During the conflict of the elements Mary Macleod seemed to suffer the most acute agonies of mind ; and no sooner did it abate than, wrapping herself in her plaid, she sallied out and proceeded towards the sea shore. There, straining her eyes over the dark and fearful deep, she thought she saw, by a broad flash of lightning, a small speck on the wild waters, pitching as if in dark uncertainty, about the mouth of Loch-Moidart. With the speed of frenzy away flew the maiden to the nearest cot- tage, and grasping a burning peat and a lapful of dried brushwood, she, with equal speed, retraced her steps to the shore. In an instant the beacon threw its cracklinof flame far over the loch, and in an instant more the small black craft at Shona had cut from her moorino-s and stood out to the entrance of the bay. Now rose the struggle in Mary's mind. There stood the maid of Moidart in the shade of the lurid beacon, listening to the fitful blast, like the angel of pity. Something was passing on in the troubled 24 Tales and Legends. bosom of that dark loch over which she often looked, that drew forth all the energies of her soul ; but what that something was, was as hidden to her as futurity. She was startled from this state of intense feeling by a momentary flash on the water, instan- taneously followed by a crash among the rocks at her side, and then came booming on her ear a sound as if the island of Shona had burst from its centre. " A Dhia nan dul bi maile ris" CGod of the elements be with him) ejaculated Mary as she bent her trembling knees on the wet sand, and then, like a spring from life to death, a boat rushed ashore, grounding on the shingle at her feet. A band of armed men imme- diately sprung on land, one of whom, gently clasping the girl, pressed her to his heart. " Failte Thrions" faltered Mary, giving a momentary scope to the woman in her bosom, but instantly recollecting her- self, she whispered, " Guide him some of you to the hut of Marsaly Buie in the copse of Cul-a-chnaud, and I shall meet you there when the sun of the morn- ing shall show me the fate of the pursuei'." By this time the intrepid girl was joined by the villagers, who extinguished all traces of the late fire, and carried the stranger's boat where none but a friend could find it. The storm had again broken from its restless slumber, and the rain and sickly sun of the following day showed the pretended smuggler scat- tered on the beach. She appeared to have been well armed, and the easily recognised body of Captain Ferguson's first mate was one of the twelve who were washed ashore. James Macpherson, the Freebooter. 25 JAMES MACPHEESON, THE FAMOUS MQSICIAN & FEEEBOOTEE. The story of James Macpherson is one which has induced much curiosity and inquiry, and, short as the time is since he was done to death, shows how soon facts may become garbled and altered in com- plexion. Sir Walter Scott, for instance, makes Inverness the closing scene of the proceedings. That he was W2*ong is clearly shown by the records of the Sheriff Court of Banff. James Macpherson was the illegitimate son of Macpherson of Invereshie, by a beautiful gipsy girl who attracted his notice at a wedding. He acknowledged the child, and reared him in his own house until he lost his life in pursuing a hostile clan to recover a spreach of cattle taken from Bade- noch. Macpherson, who had grown in beauty, strength, and stature rarely equalled, then took his place in the clan, with the chief's blood flowing in his veins, as a young Highland freebooter, who, in descending from the mountains with his followers, believed he was only asserting the independence of his tribe, and when they harried the Lowlands was only taking a lawful prey. Such acts were not, in the opinion of the "pretty men" of those times, to be confounded with pitiful thieving and stealing, but considered as deeds of spirit and boldness calculated to make a man famous in his country side and among his fellows. Macpherson excelled in love as in war, and was the best fiddle plnyer and the best swordsman of his name. Tradition asserts that^ if it must be owned 26 Tales and Legends. that his prowess was debased by the exploits of a freebooter, no act of cruelty, do robbery of the widow, the fatherless, or the distressed, and no mur- der were ever perpetrated under his command or by his knowledge. His sword and shield are still preserved at Duff House, a residence of the Earl of Fife. The sword is one which none but a man of uncommon strength could wield. It is two-handed, six feet in length, and the blade nearly as broad as a common scythe. The shield is of wood, covered with bull's hide, and studded with brass nails, and is both hacked and perforated in many places, telling a tale of many a hard fought fifjht. Tradition also asserts that he often gave the s])oils of the rich to relieve the poor, and that his followers were restrained from many atrocities of rapine by the awe of his mighty arm. Indeed, it is said that a dispute with a foiled and savage member of his tribe, who wished to rob a gentleman's house while his wife and two children lay on the bier for interment, was the cause of his first being betrayed within the power of the law. From this toil he escaped, to the vexation of the mag- istrates of Aberdeen, who bribed a girl of that city, of whom Macpherson was very fond, to allure and deliver him again into their hands, under pretence of hearing his wonderful performances on the violin. No sooner did the frantic girl understand the true state of the case than she made known, through a tribe of gipsies, the chief of whom was Peter Brown, a notorious vagrant, the capture of Macpherson to his comrades, when his cousin, Donald Macpherson, a gentleman of herculean powers, came from Bade- Doch in order to join the gipsy, Brown, in liberating the prisoner. On a market day they brought several assistants, and swift horses were stationed at con- venient distances. There was a platform before the Jaines Macpherson, the Freebooter. 27 jail covering the door below. Donald Macpherson and Peter Brown forced the jail, and while Peter Brown went to help the heavily fettered prisoner, James Macpherson, in moving away, Donald Mac- pherson guarded the jail door with a drawn sword. Many persons assembled at the market had exj^eri- enced James Macpherson's humanity or shared his bounty in the past, and they crowded round the jail as if in mere curosity, but, in fact, to obstruct the civil authorities in their attempt to prevent a rescue. A butcher, however, was resolved to detain Macpherson, expecting a large recompense from the magistrates. He s.prung up the stairs, and leaped from the platform upon Donald Macpherson, whom he dashed to the ground by the force and weight of his body. Donald soon resolved to make a desperate resistance, and the combatants in their sti^UCTwle tore off each other's clothes. The butcher got a glimpse of his dog upon the platform, and called him to his aid, but Macpherson with admirable presence of mind snatched up his own plaid, which lay neai-, and threw it .over the butcher, thus misleading the in- stinct of his canine adversary. The dog darted with fury upon the plaid and terribly lacerated his master's thigh. In the meantime, James Macpher- son had been carried out by Peter Brown, and was soon joined by Donald Macpherson, who was quickly covered by some friendly spectators with a bonnet and greatcoat. The magistrates ordered webs from the shops to be drawn across the Gallowgate, but Donald cut them with his sword, and James, the late prisoner, got off on horseback. Some time after he was brought into fatal companionship with gipsies, by the same power which led the old Grecian hero to change his club for a distaff. The High- lander fell in love with a gipsy girl, and with one companion, James Gordon, who eventually paid the 28 Tales and Legends. penalt}^ with him, he entered for a time into the roving company of the gipsy band. The Banffshire gentlemen, whom Macpherson had pkmdered of old, heard with delight that the most dreaded of their enemies had come almost unprotected into their boundaries. According to the evidence on the trial, he seems to have joined the gipsies on a rioting rather than on a plundering excursion in Keith market, when he fell into the hands of his watch- ful foes, the chief of whom wns Duff of Braco. He was immediately thrown into |)rison, and brought to trial with three persons, Peter Brown, Donald Brown, and James Gordon, his companions, indited by the Procurator- Fiscal as " Egyptians or gipsies, and vagabonds; and sorners, and robbers, and known habit and repute guilty of theft, masterful bangstree, riot, and oppression." When brought into Court at Banff the Laird of Grant attempted to rescue them from the claims of the law, by asserting his right to try them as being dwellers within the regality of Grant, over which he had the power of pit and gal- lows. The Sheriff, Nicholas Dunbar of Castlefield, however, over-ruled the claim, and sustaining himself as judge, ordered a jury to try the prisoners on the next day. This was accordingly done, when they were found guilty and condemned, more apparently from a bad name, than from any immediate crimes of which they had been guilty. The Sheriff passing over the two Browns, the captain of the gipsy band and his brother, sentenced Macpherson and Gordon to death, causing them to be taken from the Court to the Tolbooth of Banff, from which eight days afterwards they were to be conveyed to the gallows hill of Biinff, and hanrjed bv the neck to the death on gibbets erected there. This hurried sentence shows the influence which the fear of Macpherson, or private enmity, exercised over the minds of Dun- Ja7)ies Macpherson, the Freebooter. 29 bar, the Sheriff, and the jury, and hints at the in- fluence exercised by Braco Duff upon Sheriff, jury, and magistrates, especially as the Browns, his com- panions, were not sentenced; in fact, they lay in jail for a year, and afterwards made their escape from prison. Macpherson was an admirable performer on the violin, and the ardent love for music was a tit ingredient in the character tjf one who could so idly risk his life in the pursuit of roi:;antic love. His musical talent was evinced long before his capture in the composition of a pibroch that goes by his name; and he is said also to have composed the words and music, which, in his last moments, he gave to the world nnder the name of " Macpherson's Farewell" — My father was a gentleman Of fame and lineage high. Oh ! mother, would you ne'er had born A wretch so doomed to die ! But dantonly and wantonly And rantonly I'll gae, I'll i^lay a tune and dance it roun' BeloAV the gallows tree. The Laird o' Grant with power aboou The royal majesty, He pled fu' well for Peter Brown But let Macpherson die. But dantonly, &c. But Braco Duff, in rage enough, He first laid hands on me; If deatli did not arrest my course, Avenged I should be. But dantonly, &c. I've led a life o' meikle strife. Sweet peace ne'er smiled on me, It grieves me sair that I maun gae An' na avenged be. But dantonly, &c. The verses of the song above given represent him 30 Tales and Legends. as a musician, and as determined to display, which he certainly did, a mood of recklessness such as the boldest felon seldom evinces when below the fatal tree. Burns on his tour through the Highlands, it is very probable learned both the air and the tradi- tion connected with it, and it may be that while composing, what Lockhart calls a grand lyric, he had Macpherson's words in his mind. Burns has written — Sae rantouly, sae wantonly, Sae dauntingly gaed he, He played a spring and danced it round Below the gallows tree. I've lived a life of sturt and strife I die by treacherie, It bums my heart I must depart And not avenged be. Now farewell light thou sunahine bright. And all beneath the sky, May coward shame disdain his name The wretch that dares not die. Sae rantingly, sae wajitonly, Sae dauntingly gaed he, He played a spring and danced it round Below the gallows tree. On the eighth day after his trial he was brought with his campanion, Gordon, to the foot of the fatal tree, several hours before the time specified in the sentence for his execution. It is said that his death was hurried on by the Magistrates, and that they also caused the messenger intrusted with a rei)rieve to be stopped by the way, in consequence of which acts of injustice it is alleged the town of Banff was deprived of the power of trying and executing malefactors. When the free- booter came to the foot of the gallows tree in pres- ence of the spectators who had come to witness his untimely end, he played with the utmost pathos the James Macpherson, the Freehoofcr. 31 fine tune, " Macpherson's Farewell," which he had previously composed. When he had finished he asked if he had any friend in the crowd to whom a last gift of his violin would be acceptable on con- dition of his playing the same tune over his body at his lyke wake. No one had the hardihood to claim friendship with one in whose crimes the acknow- ledgment might imply a participation, and the freebooter saying that the instrument had been his solace in many a, gloomy hour, and that it should now perish with him, broke it over his knee, and, scattering the fragments among the crowd, immedi- ately flung himself off" the ladder. Thus died James Macpherson, who, if he was a freebooter, possessed the heart of an errant knight. Donald Macpherson, his relative and friend, picked up the neck of the violin which is still preserved in the family of Cluny, Chief of the Macphersons. One thing is certain amid all the traditions which have come down regarding this bold and singular robber ; his strength and stature far exceeded those of common men; and this was proved, when his grave was opened some years ago, by the examination of his bones. 32 Tales and Legends. THE FIRST GAUGER IN SKYE. About one hundred and fifty years ago, there lived in Dumfries a worthy man of the name of Gillespie, who followed the honest, though highly unpopular, occupation of excise officer or gauger. At the time my tale begins, he had just been ap- pointed to a new district in the Highlands, and it is while on his journey there that I tirst make his acquaintance. Behold him then, a tall, thin, un- gainly figure, with a consequential, self-important air, dressed in a coat of bottle-green cloth, with large silver-gilt buttons, a striped yellow waistcoat, corduroy breeches, and top boots. A tall peaked hat, with narrow brim, a large drab overcoat, and a sword-stick, completed his costume. He was mounted on a small shaggy pony or "geai-ran," with neither shoes, bit, nor saddle, Avhose head was secured by the faod, or Highland bridle, made of horse hair, and in lieu of a saddle was a housing of straw mat, on which was placed a wooden pack-saddle, called a " strathair," having two projections like horns, on which was hung the luggage of the rider. This " strathair" was kept in position by girths of straw rope, and was prevented from going too far forward by an antique kind of crupper, consisting of a stick passing under the animal's tail, and braced at each end to the " strathair." Having jogged along for a considerable time through a lonely moor, without meeting any sign of human habitations, it occurred to Mr Gillespie that he had lost his way. While staring about for something to guide him, he was nearly dismounted by the sudden starting of his pony, and oil pulling up, he discovered that he had The Ganger in Skye. 33 almost ridden over a young red-headed Highlander, who was lying among the heather, indolently sup- porting his head on one hand, while with the other he leisurely picked the blaeberries that grew so plentifully around him. On seeing what he con- sidered a duine-uasal, the lad started to his feet, and grasping a forelock of his curly hair, made a pro- found bow. The equestrian stared a moment at the bare- legged, bare-footed, bare-headed figure who had so suddenly appeared, and after stiffly returning his curtsy, inquired how far it was to Dunvegan ? The other, shaking his head, replied, ' Chan 'ei] Beurla agam ' (I have no English). Now this was certainly very awkward, as the stranger did not know Gaelic, but it is surprising what people will do in desperate circumstances, so with the aid of nods and signs, and a little English that Eachainn had managed to pick up while at school, they made shift to understand one another. ' Is it to Dunvegan, then, you'll want to be going, sir?' inquired Eachainn, ' Yes, and I am afraid that I shall not be able to find my way there without your assistance,' re- sponded Gillespie. ' And may be you'll be stopping there for some time?' proposed the lad, scratching one bare knee with his sharp uncut nails as he spoke. 'What does it matter to you, my lad, whether my stay there will be long or short? All I want just now is to get there,' 'Is it far you'll be coming the day, sir?' in- quired the other, with an air of respectful deference, strangely inconsistent with the apparent bluntness of the question. ' What business is that of yours ? Is it necessary for your showing me the road that I should tell you all my history?' c 34 Tales and Legends. ' May be you'll be coming from the change -bouse of Loch-Easkin?' pursued Eachainn, without appear- ing to notice the rebuke of the stranger's reply. ' May be I did,' rejoined the ganger dryly, giving a hard blow to the poor gearran. ' Beannachd-leibh ' (Good-bye to you), said the young man, pulling his forelock and bowing as be- fore. 'Why are you in such a hurry to be off all at once, before you have shown me the way?' '.I'm no in a hurry, sir; I shust be doing my work, minding my mother's cow and calf,' answered the lad, lying down again, and commencing to pick more blaeberries. ' But,' he added, ' it was no to offend you I was meaning.' 'Offend me, man! for what? I am sure I have taken no offence.' 'Haven't you, sir,' exclaimed the other, jumping up; 'I thocht ^'•ou had, for you didn't seem pleased when I was asking what could I be doing for you.' ' My good lad,' answered Gillespie, ' I see customs differ, and what may be considered ill manners on the streets of Dumfries is perhaps a different thing on a Highland moor, and I shall be very glad of your company and assistance.' ' Then you must tell me where is it you'll be want- ing to go to.' ' Man alive! Have I not told you already that I want to reach Dunvegan?' ' But I'm no sure if you're fit to do it before night, if you don't tell me where you came from the day.' ' There is some reason in that,' said the ganger; ' and yet,' he muttered, ' it is a sly way of demon- .strating the necessity of his endless questions.' After going some distance in silence, Eachainn, thinking himself bound to say something, began with, ' You'll be a stranger to this country, sir.' The Ganger in Skye. 35 ' You may say that, man; but what sort of a place is this Dunveo-an?' o * It's a bonny place eneuch, and no want of what's right, and the uisge-beatha is plenty, and she's rail goot; but 1 doubt it'll no be so goot and so plenty now, for they say that a sgimilear of a gauger is coming to live among us; I hope he may break his neck on the way.' Here Mr Gillespie appeared suddenly to have seen something amiss with the bridle, which necessitated his bending down for a moment or two. and no doubt this accounted for his face being slightly flushed when he raised his head, and, giving the unconscious Eachainn an indignant look, said, ' Hem, ahem! what right has a mere lad like you to speak so disrespect- full}^ of one you' never saw, and who never harmed 'May his gallows be high and his halter tight!' was the laconic but cQiphatic reply. ' You young heathen, how dare you say so of a stranger, and without any reason either.' ' Reason in plenty. Is he not coming to stop us from making our whusky? And there is my uncle Donald has a still in Craig-bheatha, and my mother helps him to make the malt, and gets a piggie (jar) for herself at the New-Year; and there's Somhairle Dubh, at the change house, has a still in his barn- yard near the ' 'Hush, friend!' interrupted Gillespie, clapping his hand on the Highlander's mouth, ' Dinna betray secrets so.' He then added with great dignit}'', 'Young man, you have abused me, and called me vile names to my face, but for that I forgive you, as it was done in ignorance, but you should be more respectful in referring to His Majesty's revenue ser- vice, for I am that very excise officer, or gauger, as you call me, who am appointed by my king and 36 Tales and Legends. country to watch over the interests of the revenue in this most outlandish corner of his dominions. Heaven help me withal! Now, friend, understand me, I will do my dut}' without fear, favour, or affec- tion; yes,' he continued, rising into energy as he spoke, and, to Eachainn's consternatioi;, drawing his sword and flourishing it over his head, ' yes, I will do so even unto death; but,' he added after a pause, 'I am no hunter after unguarded information, and God forbid the poor should want their New-Year whisky because I am in the parish. But be more discreet in future, for assuredly I must do my duty, and grasp, seize, capture, and retain unlawful liquor and implements of its manufacture, whenever I find them, for lam sworn to do this; but,' he concluded, with a bow to his pack-saddle, ' I will always strive to do my duty like a gentleman.' Eachainn's emotions during this oration were of a mingled character. At first pure shame was upper- most, for having, as he unwittingly discovered he had done, insulted a duine-uasal. Accordingly an honest blush spread over his sun-fi'eckled face, and he hung down his head. Then came concern for having, as he apprehended, betrayed the private af- fairs of his uncle and Somhairle Dubh to the hands of the spoiler. When the gauger flouiished his sword, Eachainn thought it was all over with him; but when he heard the conclusion of the speech, which he tried hard to comprehend, it was with a feeling of great respect he replied, repeating his bow, 'I thocht you was a duine-uasal from the first, sir; and I beg }'our pardon a thousand times for foolish words spoke without thinkin', and I could cut my tongue off for having spoke.' 'Friend, that would not be right; no man has a right to maim himself,' said the gauger, as he pulled out of an enormous pocket of his greatcoat a box The Ganger in Sh/e. 37 that looked like a large flute case, which he opened, and, to the admiration of Eachainn, took out of it, first the stock and then the tube of a short single- barrelled fowling-piece, which, after duly joining together, he went through the process of priming and loading. These preparations were apparently caused by a curlew alighting at a little distance, but which, as if aware that evil was not far away, resumed its flight, and soon disappeared. ' She's a very pretty gun, indeed, sir,' began Eachainn, anxious to renew the conversation on a more agreeable topic than the last. ' By your leave, may I ask where you got her ? ' ' Got her,' said the other, ' why, I made it, man. In my country we think nothing of making a gun before breakfast.' As this was said with the utmost gravity, Eachainn was considerably staggered by it, for the Highlander, naturally credulous, intending none, he suspected no deception; but if a hoax was being played upon him, and he found it out, he was sure to repay it with interest, and the biter would be keenly bit. ' One before breakfast, sir ! a gun like her made before breakfast ! ' he repeated, looking anxiously into the other's face, 'surely the thing is just im-- possible?' ' No, friend,' replied the other, internally chuck- ling at finding the youth so ductile, 'I tell you, I frequently make one of a morning.' ' Then,' said the guide, ' I suppose, sir, you'll be come to the Highlands to make a big pusness with them!' ' May be, may be, friend. I daresay there are not many such in this country; but what would still more surprise you is to hear by whom I was taught the art of making them.' 'Who she'll be, sir?' 38 Tales and Legends. ' Why, Lvino, the son of Leven, who made Fingal's famous sword, which went by his name, and every sti'oke of which was mortal.' ' Och ! yes, sir,' exclaimed Eachainn, his eyes sparkling, ' ye mean Mac-an-Luinn,' and in his ex- citement he forgot the little English he had, and continued in his own expressive vernacular, * that was the sword of swords, and they say that the sound of his anvils is still heard in the silence of midnight by the wanderer of Lochlin ; and his well- known giant form is at times seen crossing the heath, clad in its dark mantle of hide, with apron of the same, and the face of the apparition as dark as the mantle, and frowning fiercely, while, with staff in hand, he bounds along on one leg, with the fleetness of a roe, his black mantle flap, flapping for an instant, and then vanishing, as, with a few bounds, black Luno enters his unapproachable cave.' 'But are there any hereabouts who know how to use such a thing as this ?' asked the gauger, putting the piece to his eye. ' Och ! aye, sir ; there's Duncan Sealgair can hit a fox, an otter, or a seal, at a hunderd yards, easy.' ' I am not speaking,' said the gauger, with an aij- of sovereign contempt, ' of otters, and foxes, and such low vermin ; I ask you, man, as to shooting of game!' 'Aye, sir, a goot lot of that too. There's old Kenneth Matheson, she'll be very goot at killing a buck.' ' Pshaw ! man, cannot you get your ideas above coarse four-footed beasts, great sprawling objects that there is no merit in killing.' Eachainn scratched his head, at a loss what to answer next; but at length, with the air of a man who thinks he has made a discovery, exclaimed,. ' You'll be meaning the wild goose, sir!' The Gauger in Skye. 39 'You're a wild goose yourself; I mean no such thing; I am asking ye, man, about grouse, red grouse.' The guide was as puzzled as if he had heard Hebrew; but just then, as if to relieve his embarras- ment, there arose a 'Ca-ca!' kind of sound among the heather. ' She'll shust be the muir-hens, sir, perhaps you'll like to have shoot at them.' 'Moor-hens! what's that, lad?' but further ex- planation was unnecessary, for the eye of the traveller caught the very red grouse he had ap- peared so anxious to find. The sight seemed to have a very agitating effect upon him, for he in- stantly stopped, dismounted, and gave his nag to the keeping of his companion; he then crept for- ward a few paces, his heart beating with the great- ness of the occasion. At length, getting closer to the birds than most sportsmen would deem quite necessary, he knelt on one knee, and took a most deliberate, rifleman-like aim. On placing his finger on the trigger, his face was turned a little to one side — perhaps to avoid the expected smoke. He at length pulled the trigger, but, instead of a report, there was merely a snap in the pan. At this, the eldest, apparently, of the birds gave a 'Ca-ca!' and peeied about to see what was the matter; and, to avoid being seen, the sportsman sunk down among the heather. Tying the gearran to a juniper root, Eachainn now cautiously crept up, and inquired in a whisper, 'Has she refused, sir?' ' Hush ! ' said the other, shaking his hand for silence ; ' has who refused ?' ' I mean, sir,' again whispered his guide, ' has the musket refused ?' 'Which, I suppose,' responded the other, 'is as much as to say, has it missed fire ? Yes, certainly it has ; did you not hear the snap in the pan ?' 40 ■ Tales and Legends. 'Yes, sir, but there was no fire; may be 'twas the fault of the flint.' ' Pish, no ; there is not a better flint on this side of the Grampians.' ' But the pooder, sir ?' ' No better powder in the world, unless it has been damped by your horrid Highland mist.' ' There's no a mist at all the day, sir,' answered Eachainn, looking quietly down at the gun lock, and discovering, for the first time, that there was no flint at all. He smiled aside, and then turning to the would-be sportsman, who was kneeling for another attempt, pointed out the circumstance to him. The latter, on seeing it, stared, and then added, ap- parently recollecting himself, ' Dash it, neither there is ! I recollect now, here it is, I put it in my waist- coat pocket this morning, while cleaning my gun, and forgot to fix it again.' So saying, he screwed it tight into its proper place and kneeling as before, gave a second snap in the pan. ' The primin' fell oot when she first refused, sir, and you forgot to put in another.' ' And ye gowk, could'nt you tell me that before V said the wrathful ganger, as he recovered his arms for another attempt. This time, however, he was successful, for his volley levelled the cock leader and two of his family, while the remainder took flight. ' I dare say, friend bare-legs, you do not often see such .shots as that in these quarters?' ''Deed, sir, I'll no say I do,' returned the other with a look and manner somewhat equivocal. 'In .sooth, I suppose no one hereabouts knows anything of grouse shooting; but for myself, as I have already said, give me but the birds within tolerable reach, and I am sure to hit them.' ' Na doot, sir, especially if ye always make it a fashion to shoot them sittin'.' The Ganger m Skye. 41 'And have you any hereabouts that can shoot them any other gait, callant?' ' May be, sir, the young laird, and the minister's son, and the major, and ' 'Weel, sir, and pray how does the young laird find out the game ? Has he any pointers ? ' 'Pinters, sir, what's that?' inquired his com- panion, affecting ignorance. ' You fool, and do you not know what a pointer is ? Precious country I am come to, and perhaps to lay my bones in — not to know what a pointer is?' ' And d've ken, sir, what a bochan is ?' ' Not I, friend bare-legs, nor do I care. ' My name, sir, is Eachaiun, and you see there'll be some things that folks who are very clever don't know. A bochan, sir, is what you call in Beurla a hobgobolin.' ' 1 see your drift, man, I see your drift, and care not what a bochan or a fiddlestick means; but a pointer is a dog of right Spanish breed, which has such instinct that he smells out the birds without seeing them, so that when he has got one in a covey within reach of his noise, he holds up his leg, and stands stock still, until his master comes up and bleezes away at them.' ' Sitting, sir?' asked Eachainn, with a roguish look. ' Aye, man, sitting or standing, 'tis all the same.' ' You'll maybe be wanting such dogs in the low country, but they'll no be wanted in the Highlands. Here, sir,' continued he, remembering the hoax about Luno and gunmaking; 'here, sir, the people can smell the game as good as your dogs.' • Wliat's that you say man ? D'ye think of clish- maclavering me with any of your big Hielan' lees ?' i ' Would you like me to smell out some muir-hens i©r you, sir ?' 42 Tales and Legends. 'You smell out game I smell out your grand- mother ! D'ye think to deceive me with such havers ?' 'Do you s'pose you could hit the poor craters — sittin' too — if I had'nt smelt them out for you, sir?' ' Faith, friend you're no blate — smell out indeed ! And pray, callant, can you smell out any more of them ?' 'I begin to think it's no a very thankful job.' 'And do you often amuse yourself with nosing it in this way over these vile moors, through which I am so heartily tired of trudging ?' ' Whenever the laird, sir, goes out after the muir- hens, I go with him to smell them out.' 'Weel man, convince me of the bare fact — smell out another covey, and then I'll no gainsay your gift.' Eachainn, shrugging up his shoulders, scratching his head, and affecting to make some difficulty, said the wind had gone down, and that the scent was dull. The sly rascal, however, having an exceedingly acute ear, continued walking over bog and heather with long strides, until at length, at a considerable distance, and a little to one side of the track, he thought he heard the ' ca-ca ' of a bird. He then turned to his companion and said, ' If I'll be smell- ing out a prasgan for ye, sir, will ye let me have a shoot at them ?' 'Give you a shot! wool but that passes a', Tj dinna ken what you might make with a claymore,! as ye ca' a braidsM'ord ; but a gun is another sort ofl thing altogether. What ! Donald, could you hit aj peat stack, man ?' ' My name's Eachainn, sir ; and as to shooting peatstack, I don't know, but if ye like I'll try.' ' Wcel, Donald or Eachainn, or whatever youj name is, I don't care if I indulge you, so there's thi The Ganger in Shye. 43 gun; but mind, when you aim, you turn tiie barrel away, and the stock to yourself. Now you may bleeze awa' at anything but me and the pony. The guide, having by this time a shrewd guess where the birds were to be found, went on several paces cautiously, and pretending to scent something. At length he made a stand, cocking one leg, while he beckoned to the stranger, who was some little dis- tance in the rear, to dismount and come up. The latter accordingly did so, and there were the birds sure enough. The stranger, whose less prac- tised eye and ear were not aware of the trick, now not doubting the truth of the Highlander's gift, uttered his admiration in whispers, ' Weel, but yon's quite extraordinar'; all real birds too, and no glam- our; I doot it's nae cann}-.' The Gael, not being such a desperate pot-hunter as his comrade, gave a ' Hurrah !' which raised the birds at once, then taking a good aim, brought down two, and wounded one or two more, which flew, quaking, away. The Highlander, anxious to secure the wounded birds, went bounding in the direction in which they had flown. As he hastily stepped forward he did not perceive that a viper was directly in his path, and, before he was aware of its being near him, the reptile had bitten his bare foot. Striking it off" with the point of the barrel, he uttered not a word, but giving one glance round, as if looking for something, he took to his heels with a swiftness not unworthy of Luno himself. The ganger, seeing his fowling-piece in Eachainn's possession, who was running as if a lion were at his heels, naturally concluded that he had run off" with it. ' Stop, thief! ' shouted he, at the top of his voice, ' stop, ye confounded Hielan' cateran ! How fast the vagabond runs; gude's me, he is already out of 44 Tales and Legends. sight. Haud there, ye scamp, ye traitorous reever, ye!' Out of breath with his own indignant exertions, Gillespie turned to mount his gearran. That saga- cious iDeast, however, considered the whole thing as an arrangement for his own especial benefit, and whenever his would-be rider approached to mount, would edge off, and trot to a little distance, and then quietly graze, until poor Gillespie would again get close to him, when the same little performance would be repeated. All this was naturally very provok- ing, and added intense bitterness to the ganger's other reflections. He now eagerly followed Eachainn on foot, but in such a chase he was no match for the fleet-footed Highlander. The day was hot, the moor boggy, and his great- coat, which he still clung to, as if it were a part of his nature, was very heavy. ' The scoundrel !' he muttered, as he plodded wearily along, ' the bare- legged rascal, to rob me of my gun in open day on the King's highway ; but I'll have him by the heels for it, as sure as there's letters of horning and cap- tion to be had in Scotland ; aye, he shall hang as high as Haman, if there's a tree in all the island — but I doot there's nane. It's ower vile for even a tree to make a gallows of to grow in it. Then I doot after a' if the law can make much of the case, seeing that this canna be said to be the highway. The rascal has not absolutely put me in bodily fear either, except fear of losing my gun. No, I doot I canna hang him, and to transport him from such a slough of despond, would only be conferring an ac- ceptable obligation on the young thief.' Thus he hurried on, lamenting his loss, until his further progress was interupted by a stream or burn, that ran gurgling between mossy banks. The Ganger in Skye.. 45 fringed with junipers and dwarf rowans. There the worthy man stood panting and blowing for about a minute, when some yards below him, at a shallower part of the burn, kneeling at the water's edge, and gulping in the pure element, he beheld the runaway Highlander. The ganger's anger was, however, considerably mollified on seeing no effort on the part of Eachainn to continue his flight, and also by seeing his gun lying safely on a dried part of the bank. ' Ye villain,' he exclaimed, clutching his fowling-piece, ' and have I caught you at last!' The Hio'hlander, without answering, took another copious draught of the limpid stream, then washed his vv'ounded foot, on Avhich was distinctly visible the marks of the viper's fangs. Gillespie, too, observed that notwithstanding his warm race, the lad looked deadly pale. The latter, now slowly rising, expressed with rueful tone and looks his hope ' that he had got to the water before her.' 'Before me I faith that ye did; and ye deserve to be hanged for it too, ye thieving loon. Why did you run awa' that gait?' 'Och, sir!' groaned the other, can you be telling me where the baiste is?' 'Beast! what beast, idiot? I ken only one on the moor besides yon brute now feeding up there. I shouldn't wonder if he took it into his head to run off with the rest of my property.' 'No, no, sir; thenathair! the nathair! we'll shust be going back to be look for her.' ' Gude's me, but I begin to think after a' that the puir chiel's demented,' observed the other with a look of pity. At length, with an appearance of great anxiety, the lad, accompanied by the exciseman, returned to 40 Tales and Legends. the spot from which they started, where writhing in the acfonies of death, from the blow the former had instinctively, but almost unconscious]}'', given it, lay the snake or nathair. It was only now that the ganger began to comprehend what had happened to his guide. When Eachainn saw the snake on the spot where he had left it, now quite dead, his joy became as great as previously had been his dejection. *Ah, sir!' he said, turning to the other, 'it's all right, and I'm shust quite safe.' 'Pray how is that?' returned the stranger, 'I should like to know by what process of reasoning ve make that out?' 'I'll shust be telling you, sir. You see if a body will be stung by a nathair, and if they'll be clever to the water, and drink of it before the nathair (and she'll be very clever at running herself, too), the mans will be quite better, and the nathair will die and burst; but if the nathair will be get to the water first, then the mans will die and burst.' 'And do you believe all this nonsense?' * It's shust quite true, si;- ; and I'll be always be- lieving it ; and maybe I'll be forgiven, I hope 'twas not for joking you about my smelling oot the birds, that this judgment was coming on me; but as you was mocking me about making the guns, I thocht it was no harm to mock you too.' 'And so it was all a sham, about you pointing the birds, was it?' ' Yes, sir,' said Eachainn, with an abashed look. ' But ye dinna think I was such a fule as to be- lieve you, eh?' ' I cannot tell that, sir,' replied the other, a smile stealing over his lips, though he tried to prevent it. 'Hout, man!' said the ganger, but not without a leetle twinge of conscience, ' I saw through the trick the whole time, but I had a mind to humour you, The Ganger in Shye. 47 just to see how far you would go. But, friend, was it your belief in havers about vipers bursting, and a' that sort of stuff, that sent you scouring awa' to the burn's side in sic haste ?' ' Surely, sir ; I'll be running for my life when the baiste will stung me.' ' Hoot, toot, man, but you need not have taken my gun with you ; that hadna been stung, and wouldna have bursted had the beast, as you call it, drank all the water in Coruisg.' 'Och! sir, I was shust forgot the gun, I'll be .so frightened, but the running saved my life, for the nathair is shust quite dead.' ' Yes, man, but it is not bursted.' ' But she'll burst by and bye, and she'll be making a noise as big as your gun, so people say, but I'll never was hearing her myself.' ' Weel, weel, friend, I'll believe a' the rest of your story when the reptile bursts, but not till then. As for the creature's death, 1 daur to say you gave it a good clout over the head with the gun, which you had in your hand, for it does not take much, I believe, to kill them.' * I'll not be doing that at all, that I know of,' said Eachainn, ' and may be if I had, it'll be the worst for me and for you as well.' ' How so, man V ' 'Cause I might shust struck her on the tail in- stead of her head, and then she'd jump up ever so high, and then she'll be come down, more deadly than she'll be before. Ye need not be shaking your head, sir ; it's shust quite true ; but we must be clever, for we'll be having a long way to go before we'll come to Dunvegan. I must do shust one thing first, if you please.' So saying, Eachainn pulled out his core or dirk, and proceeded with great deliberation to cut off the 48 Tales and Legends. head of the viper, and then he divided the body into five equal parts. ' I doot,' muttered the gauger, with a look of dis- gust, ' I doot he is going to cook it ! Ugh, it's quite awfu'.' The honest man's apprehensions were, however, somewhat premature, for after hewing the reptile to pieces, as described, Eachainn cut with his knife six holes in the turf, into each of which he placed a bit of the snake, and filling up the holes again, stamped down these viperine graves with his heel. ' Indeed, friend, I think you have taken a good deal of unnecessary trouble in giving that reptile Christian burial.' ' No, no,' answered Eachainn, ' I'll be thinking of the lives of other peoples, and their hells too.' ' And what can your hacking away at yon reptile have to do with the health or lives of others, friend Donald ?' ' I tell you again, sir, my name is Eachainn, and no Donald, and I'll no be wondering that you don't know about this, for the Southern duine-uasal, she'll often not be knowing the things that the poor Highlander herself '11 be knowing all aboot.' ' And prythee what good is there in your wasting twenty minutes in cutting up and burying a snake ?' ' As you'll be a stranger, sir,' said Eachainn, after he had succeeded in catching the traveller's nag for him, which the other mounied, and trotted on in the path pointed out to him, ' as you'll be a stranger, sir, I must be of good manners, and shust be telling you the things you'll not know yourself. I may tell you that if you'll not be cutting a nathair in five pieces, besides her head, she'll be sure to come alive again, and bigger and more stronger than she'll was before, and if you'll be leaving the pieces on the gi'ound, they'll shust be creeping together again and The Ganger in Skye. 49 join. Sometimes her head will join where her tail was before, and her tail in the place where her head was before, and then she'll be shust awful, worst than she'll be before twenty times. But that'll not be all we'll be burying them for. If the bits of the nathair will be left on the ground, in the sun and in the moonlight, they'll turn into awful bad and great big flies, dark green and yellow, with spots like the nathair herself, and they'll be so poison that when the}^ touch a mans or a baiste, there will come a cancer, which no doctor can cure.' While thus speaking, Eachainn began to grow very pale, his voice trembled, and at last, sitting down on the heather, he groaned aloud. ' Why, my poor fellow, what's the matter with you ?' kindly inquired the exciseman. ' I doot, sir,' said Eachainn in a feeble tone, ' I doot, sir, the sting of the nathair has been stronger on me than I'll be thinking, I'm shust crippled, sir, a,nd my leg is stiff and sore like, and I'm sick, sick at my heart.' Poor Eachainn, in finishing these words, attempted to rise, but immediately staggered, and fell down insensible. The gauger, greatly disconcerted, threw himself from his steed with such alacrity that he almost overturned the gearra,n, as well as himself ' What ?' he exclaimed: ' Hoot, toot, man, never give way; 'tis but a dwam, puir fellow ! His jaw drops just like Eraser, the supervisor, when Red Chisholm, the smuggler, stuck his dirk into his doup. If the lad should die here, and no one but me with him, why, what would folk say ? Gude save us ! how swelled his leg is, and all black and green: 'tis fearsome; would to heaven I were weel out o' the scrape, or had never entered the vile country !' Here, how- ever, a bright idea struck the alarmed traveller, and hastily going to the bundle suspended from the D 50 Tales and Legends. right horn of the strathair, he hurriedly turned over its miscellaneous contents, until he found his whisky- flask, which he uncorked, and poured with a trem- bling hand, for fear of the remedy being too late, a good portion of the liquor down the throat of the unconscious Highlander. The stimulus was powerful. The fainting lad, in spite of himself, gave a des- perate gulp, which caused some of the spirit to enter his windpipe, consequently the first symptoms of returning animation on the part of Eachainn was a succession of hideous gaspings. For fully two minutes he choked and coughed, until the be- wildered ganger feared he had done for him in earnest. At length, to his unspeakable relief, Eachainn opened his eyes, and getting the use of his tongue once more, he most zealously and piously recommended the Southron to the good offices of his majesty, Domhnull Dubh. As he, however, spoke in his native tongue, Gillespie could not appreciate the extent of the kindness intended for him. The first use Eachainn made of his hands was, with the left to gently scratch the bitten foot, and with the right he took the flask from the still confused gauger, and taking a good pull at the contents, again attempted to rise, but found he was unable to walk. On perceiving this, the gauger insisted on his mounting behind him. The gearran, however, apparently resenting that his consent had not been asked to the new arrangement, gave a sharp smart- ing neigh, and commenced to back. These hostile demonstrations on the part of the pony were not at all displeasing to Ea.chainn, who thought that if the gearran continued restive, he might have him all to himself. He accordingly kept giving sly kicks with his uninjured foot in the animal's groin. The con- sequence was that every moment the pony became more indignant and unmanageable ; but the gauger, The Giiager in Skye. 51 recollecting that he was in his Majesty's service, strove to maintain his position with the dignity due to that office. He pulled hard at the taod, but finding that of no use, he followed the exainple of honest John Gilpin, and grasped the animal's mane with both hands, receiving, through every kick-up of the pony, sore thumps from the strathair, which caused him much uneasiness. Eachainn, holding on ' like grim death,' continued teasing the gearran, at the same time pretending to coax him by saying ' Sheo ! sheo ! ' The pony heeded neither that, nor the 'Huish! huish !' of the exciseman, but kept kicking, prancing, and rearing with a zeal and energy worthy of a better cause. The commotion at length ended by the ganger tumbling over the animal's head. Eachainn, beginning to think that he had carried the joke too far, dismounted, and seeing the discom- fited Southron lying at full length without signs of life, in his turn became frightened. At this trying moment he bethought him of the specific, which had proved so useful in his own case. He had no dif- ficulty in finding the flask, and was about to admini- ster a dose, when the gauger, who had been only a little confused at his sudden fall, got on his feet; but nothing would induce him to remount, so Eachainn rode at his ease, while the annoyed gauger stalked along with heavy strides, cordially abusing the country, its moors, its gearrans, and its whisky. The shades of evening began to lengthen, the scene gra- dually changed, our travellers began to leave the heathery moor behind, and enter on arable land, with patches here and there under cultivation, chiefly oats and potatoes, while an occasional cow grazing, or a horse tethered, showed them that they were ap- proaching their journey's end. All at once they heard the peculiar note of the 52 Tales and Legends. CORN-CRA.IK, Or Teian-ri-Thian, as it is called in Gaelic. The gauger, always anxious to show off his skill as a marksman, began to handle his fowling-piece. Eachainn looked on with evident uneasiness, and at last said, ' Surely, surely, sir, you'll not be going to shoot Aer.?' 'And why not, my friend?' 'What, sir! shoot a trian-ri-trian ! it's shust awful to think on.' ' And what is the great harm of shooting such a blethering, craiking thing as that?' 'The harm, sirl why, she'll be a sacred bird; I'd as soon think of shooting a cuckoo herself, as to be doing the trian-ri-trian any hurt ! She'll be dif- ferent to any other bird, and when she'll cry, she'll be lying on her back, with her feets lifted up to the sky, and the sky would fall down if she'll not be doing that.' 'Well, I must have a shot at him, even if the firmament were to come about our ears in conse- quence,' and so saying, our sportsman took his usual kneeling shot, and getting a good and near level, fired, when a handful of flying feathers evinced the success of the shot. The ganger ran to the spot, and Eachainn on the pony trotted after him, but on coming up they could see no bird, or no evidence of the shot having taken effect. Eachainn looked suddenly aghast. 'What can the gommeril be staring at now?' ex- claimed the disappointed ganger. 'Och! sir,' groaned Eachainn, in great agitation, 'the tasg! the tasg!' 'The what? you confounded idiot!' 'I'll tell you, sir,' replied the Highlander, with The Gcmcjer in Skye. 53 great solemnity, ' the tasg, she'll shust be a death bird, and the warning '11 never fail to come true — 'tis awful, 'tis shust awful!' ' Weel, confound me,' said Gillespie, who was now tired and heated, and panting with his exercise, 'confound me if I can make out the creature. He's no wanting in gumption either, but what havers are these he has got in his noddle?' Then addressing his companion, he said, ' Weel, now, I have listened to all your nonsense, and now you must tell me in plain words what you mean by all this blether and talk about your trian-ri-trian and jour tasg,' To this appeal Eachainn did not reply for some minutes, but dismounting, he hobbled up the best way he could to the veiy spot where the bird had stood when shot at, and picking up the few feathers which had been started, stood looking" at them with an anxious expression, amounting almost to horror. Then turning to the ganger, he replied, in a voice broken with agitation—' I thocht, sir, that everybody know that the tasg is a spirit bird, and she'll always be coming to the mans when they'll be going to die. She'll come different to different peoples. Old Murdo Urquhart, the fisherman, saw her shust like a grey gull, and that very night he took ill, and died in two or three days. And Barabal N'ic'Ivor, she'll be the bonniest lassie in the place, saw the tasg shust like a beautiful white dove, and surely poor Barabal she'll knew she'll be going to die, so she made her deacn shift, and indeed it was very soon she was wearing it. The tasg '11 always be coming in the gloamin', she'll fly low and slow like, and she'll no make any noise with her wings, but if you'll shoot at her, you'll shust get nothing but a small handful of feathers.' Here the guide paused a moment, and looking first at the feathers he held in his hand, and then in the face of the ganger, he continued, ' I'll be thinking, 54 Tales and Legends. sir, that you'll no be living very long. 1 am shust afraid the tasg will be coming to you like a trian- ri-trian. Och, sii-! indeed I'll be very sorry for you, surely, surely.' ' Look to yourself, man. You say it is my tasg, but I don't see how you make that out; why should'nt it be your own tasg as well as mine V 'Mine, sir?' exclaimed Eachaiiui. 'No, no; I did not shoot lier. If you'll shoot her, she'll be your own tasg surely, and nobody's else, and she'll be shust like a duine-uasal's tasg, a lonon-leofwed bird, and she'll shust come like the Southron, at certain times, and then she'll shust speak a craik, craik kind of talk, and that'll not be Gaelic; it'll be the Gaelic that the mavis and the blackbird will be speaking. A lad like me will no get a gran' tasg like her. Oh ! no, a crow, or a duck, or a sgarbh, is more like what I'll be getting.' The gauger, seeing the anxiety of Eachainn to decline the honour of the tasg, was commencing to rally him about it, but in the earnestness of their conversation, they had not observed the chano-e in the appearance of the weather which had been gradually taking place; their attention was now, however, called to it by feeling some heavy di-ops of rain, and they soon saw that a severe storm was looming. They ceased talking, and used their breath and enei-gies to better purpose, by hurrying forward as fast as they could. In spite of their utmost exertions, the storm soon overtook them, and in half-an-hour they were both drenched to the skin. Eachainn took it very philosophically, for to the well-developed, hardy ' son of the mist,' an oc- casional shower-bath was no hardship. He was too well acquainted with Nature in all her changing moods to care much when she frowned. But the poor, town-bred gauger was in a pitiable plight, as The Ganger in Skye. 55 he plodded along in a most unenviable state of body and mind, vowing he should catch his death of cold. In about an hour and a-half they arrived, to the intense relief of Gillespie, at the hamlet of Dun- vegan, and gladly availed themselves of the hospi- tality of Somhairle Dubh, at the hostelrie, or change house of the village. The worthy hostess of the DUNVEGAN HOTEL met the gauger at the door, and dropping a curtsy, gave him a hearty welcome, while !Somhairle Dubh told Eachainn to lead the pony to the stable; but seeing the poor lad hardly able to stand, and having been told the reason, he immediately helped him into the kitchen, and seating him by the fire, called for the whisky bottle — the usual panacea in those days for all evils in the Highlands — and giving Eachainn a good dram, he applied the same remedy to the wounded limb, rubbing it in before the iire, while a messenger was dispatched for his mother, who was noted for her skill in the use of herbs. In the meantime Mr Gillespie had been shown to his bedroom, to change his wet clothes, while his dinner was preparing. Before he began his meal, the landlord brought out his own peculiar bottle — a mixture of whisky, camomile flowers, and coriander seeds — and offered his guest a glass as an appetiser, which was gladly accepted, for he was feeling far from well. He ate but little of the good plain dinner provided for him, and soon after went to his bed. Before doing so, however, he asked for Each- ainn, wishing to give him a trifle for his guidance, but on being told that the lad had gone home with 56 Tales and Legends. his mother, he gave Somhairle Dubh a shilling to give to him. Although Gillespie was very tired, he could not sleep. He tossed and turned, and only as the day was breaking did he fall asleep, hut it did not refresh him, for the incidents of his journey haunted him in his sleep. He was again riding the pony, going at a furious rate, while Eachainn sat at his back hold- ing him in a gi-asp of iron. There arose before him the figure of a snake of gigantic proportions, which, writhing round his neck, was nearly strangling him, but instead of hissing, it uttered the 'craik,' ' craik,' of the trian-ri-trian. With an effort he awoke, and found himself stiff and feverish, and his throat very sore. In a word, the honest man was in for a bad attack of quinsey or inflammation of the throat. After a few days had elapsed, he ex- pressed his surprise that Eachainn had not called to inquire for him; but he was told the lad had gone to a village ten miles off to spend his shilling. Somhairle Dubh and his goodwife became very con- cerned about their guest, and nothing could exceed their kindness and attention to him. They sent for the doctor, but he was away some distance and could not come at once. On the fourth day of Gillespie's illness, Somhairle Dubh, seating himself by the sick man, with great solemnity of manner, said, ' Sir, we must all die. Now, sir, I am come to do to you as I would like to be done by ; for sore, sore would it be'to me to think that my body should not be put in the grave of my fVithers in Kilmuir. So, sir, by your leave, where would you choose to be buried V ' Buried !' exclaimed the ganger, aghast, sitting up in his bed, and staring at his host. ' Buried ! surely I am not so bad as that V Without noticing his emotion, the worthy man continued, 'Folk have different ways in different The Gauger in Shje. 57 countries ; but you may depend upon it, sir, it's no my father's son that would suffer the corpse of a duine-uasal not to be treated in every way most honourably. You shall be properly washed and stretched, that you may be sure of; and you shall not want for the dead shirt,, for by my faith, and I'll do as I promise, sir, you shall have my own dead shirt, that my wife made with her own hands, of real good linen, and beautifully sewed too. And we'll keep you, sir, for seven days and seven nights, and I'll get Ian Saor to make as good a chest for you as ever he made, with brass-headed nails all round it, and with shining handles like silver, and you shall lie in your chest like a duine-uasal should, with two large candles at your head, and two at your feet, and a plateful of salt on your breast.' Here poor Gillespie could contain himself no longer, but groaned aloud at this dismal recital of what was to be done to his corpse. ' What, sir? you're may be thinking the alaire, or death feast, will not be good enough; but ye need not trouble yourself for that, there shall bs plenty whisky and plenty meat, and my wife shall make good bannocks.' ' Yes, indeed, I will,' said the good woman, wiping her eyes with her apron as she sobbed out. ' Ochan, ochan ! little does his mother know how her son is the nisjht.' 'But,' continued her husband, ' think what a com- fort it'll be to her to hear of his being buried so decent like; for, sir, you shall be put in my own grandfather's grave, and that's what I'd not do to many, but I'll do it to you, for though you are a gauger you're a stranger far from your own people, and I'd like to show kindness to you.' Indeed the worthy man never doubted but he had afforded Gillespie the greatest comfort in thus having 58 Tales and Legends. settled all the particulars of his funeral ; for an in- tense anxiety about the proper disposal of his re- mains, and the complete fulfilling of all the custom- ary ceremonies of death, is a characteristic trait of the Hiorhlander. It was the seventh day of Mr Gillespie's illness when Eachainn returned, and he immediately went to see the sick man, who by this time could scarcely speak. He lay pale and languid, with his eyes closed, and apparently the dews of death on his brow. The lad was greatly shocked. He expected to find him ill, but not so bad as this — not for death. 'Ochan, ochan!' he exclaimed, and covering his face with his hands, he burst into tears. The ganger on opening his eyes and seeing his visitor, smiled faintly and said, ' It's all over with me, Eachainn.' •'Oh no, no, sir; don't say that, I hope you'll be better soon. And don't you be thinking of the tasg, sir, for she'll not be for you at all, sir, but for the minister's goodmother, who died last night with the fever, and his children have got it, too, for it's very smitting; but I'll no be caring. I'll just be going up to the manse, and tell the doctor to come to you.' ' >Stop,' said the ganger with difficulty, and then pointing to his fowling-piece, which stood in a corner, he continued with a faltering voice, ' Keep it for my sake, for I shall never use it again.' ' Oh no, sir,' replied Eachainn in a broken voice. ' I'll be hoping to see you use her many's the time yet. We'll be shooting the muir-hens together some day, but I must be going for the doctor quick.' So saying, the lad hurried out of the room, for fear he should ao^ain break down. In about three hours the tramping of a horse an- nounced the arrival of the doctor, who had galloped in from the manse, while Eachainn ran and panted all the wav at his horse's side. And while the The Ganger in Skye. 59 doctor was making for the iru, Eachainn ran to his mother's, and told her to get her herbs ready, for perhaps she would be able to do more good than the doctor, after all their hastenino- back. He was in the sick-room as soon as the doctor, who, having examined his patient in silence for a few minutes, began the following harangue with a pompous voice and manner — 'You see, sir, you are labouring under what is commonly called a quinsey, but which, pro- fessionally, we denominate Cynanche, to which may be added in your case tho adjective noun maligyia. I regret to say that your case is exceedingly des- perate. Had 1 been able to have seen you earlier, I should have followed Celsus' excellent advice in these cases, but I am sorry to say that the Celsian treat- ment is now entirely out of the question. There can be no doubt that the opening into the trachea is very neai-ly closed up by the phlegmon or inflamma- tion, when death by asphyxia must ensue. There is here, then, but one course. Here,' taking a small case of instruments out of his pocket, 'here, you see, is a fine sharp-pointed knife or scalpel, with which an incision being made into your trachea, I shall insert a small tube so as to keep up the communica- tion between the atmosphere and the lungs, to obviate what would otherwise be the fatal closing of the glottis.' With that the doctor arranged his instruments at the bedside, and was preparing to operate at once, when a dim sense of his intentions began to break in upon the minds of the spectators. ' And where do you mean to cut, sir V asked Somhairle Dubh, first breaking silence. 'Here, exactly here,' replied the doctor, placing his finger on Mr Gillespie's throat a little below the chin. ■'And have you no other cure but that, doctor?' ' None whatever,' answered he, shaking his head. 60 - Tales and Legends. and taking up the scalpel, at the sight of which the sick man shrank to the other side of the bed with a look of pitiable despair. 'No other cure than to cut the duine-uasal's throat,' screamed Eachainn, coming forward, with a face blanched with horror ; ' No, no, sir,' he con- tinued, 'you'll shust have to cut my throat first. If you'll no be doing better than that, I could be doing as good myself with the corran yonder, and not to trouble you to be coming with "them awful knives, shust enough to frighten a body.' On hearing this, the poor ganger smiled gratefully on Eachainn, and pressed his hand between both his own. 'Sir!' exclaimed the doctor, hoarse with passion, ' what is the meaning of this ? Am I to perform the operation or not ?' ' No, sir,' replied the sick man in a scarcely ar-ticu- late voice. ' I throw myself upon the mercy of God. I can but die.' ' Then die, sir,' said the enraged doctor, ' and your blood be upon your own head ;' and hastily packing up Ips instruments, he turned to leave the room just as Eachainn's mother (a descendant of Fearchair Lighiche) entered. She gave him a respectful greet- ing, which, however, was very ungraciously received, and soon the sound of his horse's hoofs was heard as he galloped away, Eachainn muttering something to himself about the Diabhul going along with him. Eachainn's mother now took up the case, and having tenderly examined the throat, called for a pot and boiling water, into which she cast some herbs and boiled them over the fire. This decoction she ordci-cd to be npplied on flannels, as hot as he could bear it, to the sick man's throat, while he inhaled the hot steam of the same from the spout of a kettle. The good woman then called for a The Ganger in Skye. 61 skellet, into which she measured two or three cups of water ; she then threw into the water some dried herbs and fresh roots. When the mixture was hot it threw up a green scum, which she skimmed off. She then poured some of the potion into a tumbler, and approaching the patient, said in Gaelic, 'Try, my dear, and swallow this ; I know it is very pain- ful for you to do it, but life is precious, and for your mother's sake, if you have one, make the attempt.' On her wishes being explained to Gillespie, he grasped the tumbler, and with a great effort slowly but painfully drained it. In about half-an-hour after he had taken it, his face became of a ghastly green shade ; he stretched himself out at full length; his pulse seemed to fail; he heaved deep sighs; and at length began to retch violently. It now appeared as if a struggle between life and death, but at length the imposthume burst, and the poor man swooned away. The spectators now thought all was over with the poor ganger, but Eachainn's mother knew better. She held his head with one hand, while with the other she chafed his temples, calling to her son to throw some water in the patient's face, and telling the landlord to bring some red wine, if he had any in the house. Her orders being promptly carried out, the sick man soon opened his eyes, and. in a little while was able to speak, expressing his gratitude to the worthy woman for the great relief she had afforded him. From this time Gillespie mended fast, but was necessarily obliged to keep his bed for several days, and, finding the time hanging heavy, he would keep Eachainn by him for hours together, as he had taken a great liking to the lad, besides being under such an obligation to his mother, of whose skill and the wonderful cures she had effected, her son was never tired of talking about. 62 Tales and Legends. 'But how did your mother gain all this know- ledge?' asked the ganger. ' Well, sir, you must know my mother is descended from the famous man, Fearchair Lighiche,' 'And who may he be?' inquired Gillespie. 'Ah, sir, it was him that was the clever man. He could cure every disease in the shutting of a taibhshear's eye, and knew every herb and plant, every tree and root, every bird and beast. And there's something more wonderful yet,' continued Eachainn in an awe-struck tone. ' And what is that ?' asked Gillespie. ' Well, sir, maybe you'll no be believing it, but it's true all the same, that Fearchair Lighiche had the gift to know what the birds would be saying to each other.' The ganger threw a quick glance at his compan- ion, thinking he was trying to gull him, but seeing that Eachainn spoke in all sincerity, and even with a certain amount of awe in his manner, Gillespie did not interrupt him, merely remarking, ' That was a gift indeed, if he made good use of it." ' That he did, sir, for he was a real good man, and a blessing was on all he did.' ' Well,' said the ganger, with an air of incredulity, ' tell me now of some instance where this gift was shown by your wonderful relative, Farquhar Lick, or whatever his name was ? ' 'By your leave, sir, his name is not Lick, but Lighiche, and that means "Healer." The people will be callino; him that because of the cures he did. But his own right name was Beaton, and I could be telling you lots of stories about him. One time, on a beautiful summer morning, he was walking by the sea-side, and he met old Colin Macrae and his two sons going to their boat to go to Skerry-Rona to cut sea- ware, when they spoke to the seer. He looked The Ganger in Skye. 63 to the north and to the south, with a face full of trouble, and shust then a raven flew over their heads, and gave a hollow croaking kind of sound.' ' So do all ravens, man,' interrupted the ganger. Without noticing the interruption, Eachainn con- tinued, 'And then, sir, when Fearchair Lighiche heard the raven, he turned to the old man and commanded him and his sons not to enter the boat or put to sea that day, for, said he, " I have it from them that never deceive that evil will come to a boat from Harlosh coast this day." ' * And did they take notice of the warning V 'The old man, sir, was minded to stay, but the young lads laughed, and said they did not care for all the ravens between the Point of Uishinish and the Coolin Hills, so they set ofl". But the wise man stood looking after them with a sad face, and then the raven flew past again ; and when Fearchair heard the croak of the bird, he clasped his hands, and looking up he cried out, "Lost! lost! lost!"' 'And what became of the men?' inquired Gil- lespie, interested, in spite of his unbelief ' I'll shust tell you, sir. About the middle of the day there was a thick fog, which covered the sea and the land, and when the night came on there was a dreadful storm, so that no boat could live. The people will be blaming old Meg Mackintosh, the witch of Glen Dubh, for it, for she met the men that very morning, shust after they'll be finding a dead door-mouse, and that is shust always a sign of death. Well, when the night was come, the house of John Mac John Mac Kenneth was all cheerless and dark, for they that went out in the morning never come back; and the poor wife sat all her lone, on a three-legged stool, by the side of the fire, crying bitterly for her man and her sons, whose three stools stood empty opposite her on the other 64; Tales and Legends. side. Her dog lied at her feet, and the poor brute kept licking her hand, for he knew she was in trouble; and when her sobs became more convul- sively audible, he would raise a low whine in sympathy. Well, sir, it'll shust be about the middle of the night, when in a distracted state the woman exclaimed, "Oh, this fearful suspense! it is worse than the worst reality. Would to heaven I were certain whether they are dead or alive." She had scarcely left off speaking, when she'll hear a queer- like sound, and the dog she'll hear it too, for she'll growl and go close to the wife's side, and then she'll see three shiverino- figures sitting before her on the stools that were empty before, all wet, pale, and with the death-look on them. You may be sure she was awful frightened. She daren't speak; but she shust held out her arms to embrace them, but she could not lay hold of theai, for with a soundless tread they glided away and vanished, while she heard pronounced these words, " Cha till, cha till, cha till sinn tuille " (We return, return, return no more). Then she gave a great skirl and fell down, and she was found in the morning shust quite sense- less, with the poor beastie of a dog watching her.' ' That is certainly a very strange story, Eachainn.' 'Yes, sir; and there's plenty more I could be tell- ing, if you like. Once the laird was taken ill all of a sudden with a bad pain in his chest, when he was walking near some rocks where the fairies lived. Some say he was struck by an elf-bolt, as one was picked up near the spot the next day. So he sent to Fearchair Lighiche to come to heal him. It was a long way to go, and when Fearchair and the man that was fetching him got to about live miles from the laird's house a gobhar-athair flew over them, and when Fearchair heard the cry of the bird he stopped, and told the man it was no use to go any further. The Ganger in Shye. 65 for his master was dead, and so he turned back. When the man got home, he found that his master had died just at the very time they heard the gobhar- athair. Sometimes he woukl fall into a trance, when he would be seeing most beautiful things. One day he was travelling with his nephew and his foster- brother, who always carried his herb-box and his Hebrew Bible, and they came to a place where a great battle was fought long ago. And there's a big cairn there over the bones of the men who were killed, and people will be seeing the spirits of them if they go that way at night. Fearchair said to his nephew that he was going to lie down and sleep, and that they were to be sure not to wake him, nor even touch him. Well, sir, he went to sleep, and at first he was breathing very hard, and his fece was full of trouble, but after a little he did not breathe at all, and his face got as white as snow, and he looked shust as if he was dead. His nephew got so frightened when he saw him, that he jumped up to wake him, but the other held him back and whispered, " For 370ur life, move not, speak not, touch not;" and they then saw coming out of the mouth of the sleep- ing man a tiny, tin}'', wee thing like a beautiful butterfly. When the nephew saw it, he made as if he would catch it, but the other man called out, " For any sake, don't touch it, for there's something awful in it," so they looked and saw it go into the cairn. The night had well nigh fallen before they saw the beautiful wee creature coming out of the cairn and going back into the mouth of Fearchair. Then he woke up and sneezed three times, and said, " 'Tis well; let's on, let's on." He didn't speak again for a long time, but once they heard him say, like to himself, in Gaelic, " Eternal ! eternal ! eternal !" ' ' And what did the people think of all this V asked Gillespie. E 66 Tales and Legends. ' Oh, sir, they say that when he'll be in a trance his spirit would come from his body, and go to the spiritual worlds, or anywhere he liked. There was only three men on earth to whom he told what it was that he'll be seeing at such times, and they dared only each tell it to one another, their nearest re- latives when they arrived at the age of twenty-nine. When Eachainn had finished the last story, he left Gillespie to himself, who was now fast recovering under the kind treatment of Somhairle Dubh and his excellent wife. The host was in the ganger's room as often as he could, relating such stories as he knew; and thus enabled the patient to pass away the time more agreeably. I heard several of them, but the one about the EACH UISG, OR WATER HORSE, is the only one I can at present remember. Som- Lairle Dubh related it thus : — When I was a little boy, I would sit for hours by the kitchen fire, listening to my grandfather, who used to while away the long winter evenings by telling us stories about witches and warlocks, ghosts and fairies, of which he had an inexhaustible stock. A very favourite one with me was the tale of the each uisg, or the water horse, a fearful demon in the likeness of a big, black horse, who inhabited Loch- Dorch, and woe to any one who ventured near the loch after nightfall ; for the each uisg was always on the watch, and would rise out of the water, seize any intruders, and drag them to the bottom, to be devoured by him at his leisure. Sometimes he "would assume other shapes, and try to lure people The Ganger in Skye. 67 away to the water. One Hallowe'en njoht there was a party of young people gathered round the fire in the house of Duncan the weaver, burning nuts and ducking for apples, when Duncan's daughter, bonnie Catriana, proposed to go and dip her sleeve in the burn, to try if her sweetheart was true. None of her companions would go, for fear of the each uisg, and tried in vain to dissuade Catriana from her ven- turesome purpose, but laughing at their fears, she threw her plaid over her head, and ran off to the burn. In a little they were startled by hearing a loud wailing shriek, and fearing some accident had hap- pened to their favourite Cati'iana, rushed out of the house to look after her, but no trace could they find of the poor, wilful lassie. Her father and the lads were searching the whole night, and at the dawn of day they found her plaid at the side of the dreaded Loch-Dorch, and near it, in the clay, the mark of an unearthly hoof, which proved, beyond doubt, that she had fallen a victim to the monster water-horse. Then there was young Allan Mac Sheumais, who, coming home in the dusk, after spending the day hunting the deer, heard a tramping sound which he soon found to proceed from the water-horse, which he could see rapidly galloping up to him. Poor Allan, though in a dreadful fright, did not lose his presence of mind, and knowing full well that ordi- nary shot would have no effect upon the demon, he rapidly loaded his gun with a small, crooked silver sixpence— the blessed metal from a cup of which the Saviour drank his last draught on earth — and ex- claiming, " The cross be betwixt me and thee," fired with a steady aim, while the cold sweat stood on his brow. The each uisg gave one yelling neigh, so shrill, so dismal, and unearthly, that the cattle which had 08 Tales and Legends. lain down to rest on the heath started up in terror; the doo-s of the hamlet heard it, and, ceasing their gambols, ran coweiing and tremblinoj to the fireside; the roosted cock heard it, and essaj-ed to crow, but could only scream. Never will those who heard that terrific cry forget it; but it had scarcely ceased ere the demon steed had sprung into the midst of Loch-Dorch, and as the water closed over him, a sound, as of a sarcastic, unearthly laugh, was heard from the middle of the loch, and then all was silent. Yet notwithstanding all this, Lachlan Buachaille, the cow-herd, who was a wild, reckless fellow, would never believe the stories he heard about this dread- ful being, and laughingly suggested that Allan had only been frightened by Rorie Mor's gearran broken loose from his tether; and bragged that he had never seen the each uisg, although he had lived for some years near the Eaven's Peak, close to the haunted loch. ' And would ye wish to see him ?' asked old Janet, as he sat by her fireside one evening; ' would ye really wish to see that fearsome thing, Lachlan V ' May I never taste oatcake or whisky again !' said Lachlan impetuously, ' but I wish to see the beast, if there's one in it, and the sooner the better.' It was a gusty, rain}'^ autumn night. Lachlan sat alone in his bothie, busily employed in twisting his oat straw siaman, hmnming to himself, and listen- ino- to the aound of the torrent as it dashed over the rocks, the pattering of the heavy rain, and the sheughs of the north-west wind, moaning as it passed along, all of v/hich only served to increase his sense of ccSnfort as he drew his three-legged stool nearer to the bright peat fire. He was just thinking of retiring for the night, when he heard a gentle knocking at the door. 'Who is there at this time of night V asked he, to which a The Ganger in Shye. 69 feeble voice replied, 'I am a poor old woman who lost my way this wild night ; pray let me in, or I shall perish Avith cold and fatigue.' Lachlan mut- tered anything but blessings on the old body's head for thus disturbiog him, for he had a particular ob- jection to old women. ' Bad luck to her; were it a young one, or even an old man, T should not care,' he gi-umbled; 'but an old hag to come sorning on me, as I was about to step into my quiet bed.' Then raising his voice, he said, ' Wait, wait, carlin, I'll be with you directlj^, let me wind up my siaman first ; the diabhul take you, have more patience, and don't keep croaking there with your ill-omened voice ; ' and, unfastening the latch, he continued, 'There, enter now, and curses on you.' However, with all his roughness, Lachlan was not a bad-natured fellow, and regretted his inhospitality, when he saw stepping in a poor, wretched, little, old woman, bent double with age and miserv. She wore a dun cloak drawn tightly round her figure, with a kind of red hood at- tached to it, marked with strange characters, which quite covered her head, and shaded her face. She gave no salutation, good or bad, and as she crawled rather than walked up to the fire, it emitted a vivid spark, which hissed as it fell on the dripping clothes of the old hag ; a hen on the roost crowed discord- antly, and a little mouse poked its head out of a hole and squeaked loudly. The old woman, noticing this, gave a queer kind of laugh, so grating in its sound that Lachlan turned quickly round and stained at her ; but she met his gaze sharply, and with a pecu- liarity of expression which Lachlan felt, without knowing why, to be very unpleasant. ' Old grannie,' said he, 'will you take something V ' No,' she gruffly replied. ' There's a, little left of the bread and fish I had for supper,' said Lachlan. 70 Tales and Legends. ' I always have plenty of" fish/ answered she, sharply. 'Perhaps you like flesh better, then V ' Yes,' she replied, in the same uncivil manner, while a strange, sneering smile flickered round her lips. 'Will you have anything to drink, then?' con- tinued Lachlan. ' No,' abruptly answered the carlin. ' What ! woman ; nothing to eat or drink ! Then I suppose you have had your supper; but it must have been with the fairies, for I warrant you could have got none elsewhere between this and Beinn- ard, and that is a good many miles ofi".' 'Perhaps,' muttered the old hag. 'Perhaps what, cailleach ?' questioned Lachlan; and, after a pause, finding she gave no answer, ' Perhaps ! I am afraid, you will catch cold, unless you throw off" those wet clothes ; and though I have no woman's gear, you can have my great-coat, and I can spare you a blanket besides.' 'I need none of your coats or blankets,' answered the crone, in the same ungracious tones as before, 'for water can never hurt me.' ' Leeze me on the haof,' muttered Lachlan to him- self, ' but she is easily maintained at any rate, and yet I would rather have a more expensive and social guest.' The fire burned down, and Lachlan, as he occa- sionally glanced at the old cailleach, sitting on the opposite side of the hearth, could not help thinking that there was something altogether repulsive, if not uncanny, about her. There was a strange restless- ness in her manner; her hard, dark eyes seemed to look everywhere and nowhere at the same time; while she sat rocking backwards and forwards over the ashes, and her long, crooked fingers twitched The Ganger in Skye. 71 about her dun cloak in an odd and unpleasant man- ner, Laclilan threw another peat on the fire, and, by the reviving light, he thought the carlin's eye had acquired a wilder and sterner expression, while a grim smile played round the corners of hei' ugly mouth. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, she seenaed to have really grown larger in stature and more erect since he first saw her. Rousing himself, he kicked off his boots, lay down on his bed, which was only a few steps from the fire, and settled him- self down to repose for the niglit. Lachlan, however, could not sleep, and turned from one side to another, courting in vain the drowsy god. Glancing at his unwelcome visitor, he saw, with a feeling akin to dread, the old crea- ture sitting more and more erect; and, rubbing his eyes, as if he felt that he was under the influence of a dream, he was exceedingly startled to find that it was no delusion, but that she was really growing, as it were, rapidly larger and sterner, under his very eyes. 'Hout! carlin,' he exclaimed, raising himself on his elbow, ' you are waxing large,' To which she replied in a hollow voice, 'XJraph, umph; omhagraich, 's mi 'g eiridh ris a bhlath's (Itomies and atomies — expanding to the warmth!) Getting very drowsy, Lachlan again lay down to sleep, but presently was disturbed by a mouse coming out of a hole in the wall, and running squeaking into and across his bed, almost touching his chin. He again I'aised himself on his elbow, was struck with the increased proportions of the strange hag, and again exclaimed, 'Hout, carlin! you are getting larger!' She again replied, but in a louder and harsher tone than before, 'Umph, umph; omhagraich, 's mi 'g eiridh ris a bhlath's (Itomies and atomies — expand- ing to the warmth!) 72 Tales and Legends. The fire was now nearly out, the light growing gradually less, and Lachlan became more and more sleepy. At length he began to snore gently, when all at once a spark flew out of the fire and alighted smartingly on his face. Irritated by the stinging sensation, he started, opened his eyes, and be- came thoroughly roused by again hearing the old hen on the cross beam above him giving a most dis- cordant crow, though the cock uttered not a sound. He sat upright in his bed, and, in the gloom, dimly saw the strange figure extended to fearfully gigan- tic proportions, while her eyes no longer retained a trace of human expression, but glared upon him with preternatural brilliance and malignity. It was now with a feeling as if his blood were ice,, as if his flesh had been turned into creeping and crawling things, and as if his hair all stood on end, that Lachlan, in a tone which fear rendered nearly inaudible, said for the third time, ' Indeed and in- deed, carlin, but you have waxed very large !' ' Umph, umph ; omhagraich, 's mi 'g eiridh ris a bhlathas " (Itomies and atomies — expanding to the warmth !) shrieked the demon in a voice so terrible that it actually frightened the very ravens in the neighbouring rocks, who flew croaking away. 'Urnph, umph ; omhagraich 's mi 'g eiridh ris a bhlath's ' (Itomies and atomies — expanding to the warmth) ; and the fearful creature stood erect. She gave a horrible laugh, a snort, and a neigh of terrific sound, while her features underwent a still more appalling change. The dark-grey locks that had peeped from under her red hood, now waved a snaky mane. On the forehead of the monster was a star-like mark of bright scarlet, quivering like burning fire; the nostrils breathed, as it were, flame, whilst the eyes flashed on poor Lachlan like lightning. The Ganger in Shje. 73 His knees smote together with terror, he saw that his hour was come, and that the feaiful crea- ture, the idea of whose existence he had laughed to scorn, now stood before him. He felt that at last he did indeed behold the each uisg. Quicker than thought Lachlan had found himself snatched up in the jaws of the monster. The door flew open of itself, and at one bound the steed of Ifrinn was on the top of the dizzy precipice — the Raven's Peak. At another he dashed down the torrent fall of Rowan Linn. The cold spray of the cascade falling on his face, now for the first time recalled Lachlan to consciousness; and as the demon gave one gigantic rear, previous to that spring which would have engulphed him and his victim in the unfathomable depths of Loch-Dorch, Lachlan re- membered and pronounced aloud the Name of names that was engraved on the breast-plate of the High Priest of Israel. The shrill clarion of the cock was now heard, the demon lost all further power over his victim, and letting him drop with a mighty shudder and a neighing yell, instantly plunged into the loch, the waters of which, for a long time after, boiled and bubbled as if it were a gigantic hunts- man's kettle of the kind in which he dresseth the haunch of the red-deer in the corrie. Some people passing that way early in the morn- ing, found Lachlan, bruised and insensible, on a shelf of the rock, at the bottom of the Raven's Peak, at the very edge of the water. They tried to rouse him, and after a short time he opened his eyes, sat up, and said, ' Where am I ?' and recollecting every- thing that had passed, he at once exclaimed, in broken accents, ' Blessed be His name, safe, safe !' They carried him to Clachan-nan-cno, where he lived for many years, a wiser and a better man, but he never again heard the each uisg mentioned 74 Tales and Legends. without devoutly expressing the Name that saved him, and no wonder that neither he, nor any one else, has ventured ever since to sleep a night in the cottage near E.owan Linn. The ganger, in his weakly state, heard the story throughout without expressing any doubt as to its truthfulness, and felt much relieved to find that poor Lachlan had escaped from the fearful each uisg. In spite of himself, he began to be less sceptical. Indeed, the simple manner in which the stories were related to him, the genuine warmth of heart and kind treatment bestowed upon him by the simple Highlanders, who themselves thoroughly believed in them, induced him to think that there must be some foundation after all for these extraordinary things. The continued attentions of Somhairle Dubh and his kind wife brought the ganger rapidly round. We soon find him attending to his duties, but making no great attempts to discover the local still that supplied his kind host with the excellent Mac-na- Braiche which helped not a little to invigorate and bring Gillespie himself additional strength and vigour during the latter weeks of his illness. Somhairle Dubh, the gauger, and Hector became fast friends, nor was there ever any of his cloth who was less capable of doing a mean thing in procuring a conviction against his neighbours. He did his duty to his King, without being unnecessarily harsh with those against whom he was obliged to enforce the law. Beannachd leis. The Raid of Cilliechriost. 75 THE RAID OF OILIIEOHRIOST. The ancient Chapel of Cilliechriost, in the parish of Urray, in Ross-shire, was the scene of one of the bloodiest acts of ferocity and revenge that history has recorded. The original building has long since dis- appeared, but the lonely and beautifully-situated, burying-ground is still in use. The tragedy origin- ated in the many quarrels which arose between two great chiefs of the North Highlands — Mackenzie of Kintail and Macdonell of Glengarry. As usual, the dispute was regarding land, but it is difficult to arrive at the degree of blame to which each party was entitled; enough that thei^e was bad blood be- tween these two paladins of the North. Of course, the quarrel v/as not allowed to go to sleep for lack of action on the part of their friends and clansmen. The Macdonells having made several raids on the Mackenzie country, the Mackenzies retaliated by the spoiling of Morar with a large, overwhelming force. The Macdonells, taking advantage of Keniieth Mac- kenzie's visit to Mull with the view to influence Maclean to induce the former to peace, once more committed great devastation in the Mackenzie coun- try, under the leadership of Glengarry's son, Angus. From Kintail and Lochalsh the clan Mackenzie gathered fast, but too late to prevent Macdonell from escaping to sea with his boats loaded with the foray. A portion of the Mackenzies ran to Eilean-donan, while another portion sped to the narrow strait of the Kyle between Skye and the 76 Tales and Legends. mainland, through which the Macdonells, on their return, of necessity must pass. At Eilean-donan Lady Mackenzie furnished them with two boats, one ten-oared and one four-oared, also with arrows and ammunition. Though without their chief, the Mac- kenzies sallied forth, and rowing towards Kyleakin, lay in wait for the approach of the Macdonells. The first of the Glengarry boats they allowed to pass unchallenged, but the second, which was the thirty- two-oared galley of the chief, w^as furiously attacked. The unprepared Macdonells, rushing to the side of the heavily loaded boat, swamped the craft, and were all thrown into the sea, where they were dis- patched in large numbers, and those who escaped to the land were destroyed " by the Kin tail men, who killed them like sealchies." Time passed on, Donald Gruamach, the old chief, died ere he could mature matters for adequate re- taliation of the Kyle tragedy and the loss of his son Angus. The chief of the clan was an infant in whom the feelings of revenge could not be worked out by action; but there was one, his cousin, who was the captain or leadtir, in whom the bitterest thoughts exercised their fullest sway. It seems now impos- sible that such acts could have occurred, and it gives one a startling idea of the state of the country, when such a terrible instance of private vengeance could have been carried out so recently as the beginning of the seventeenth century, without any notice being taken of it, even in those days of general blood and rapine. Notwithstanding the hideousness of sacri- lege and murder, which in magnitude of atrocity Avas scarcely ever equalled, there are many living, even in the immediate neighbourhood, who are ignorant of the cause of the act. Macranuil of Lundi, captain of the clan, whose personal prowess was only equalled by his intense The Raid of CiUiediviost. 77 ferocity, made many incursions into the Mackenzie country, sweeping away their cattle and otherwise doing them serious injury ; but these were but prekides to that sano-uinarv act on which his soul gloated, and by which he hoped effectually to avenge the loss of influence and property of which his clan was deprived by the Mackenzies, and more ]iarticu- larly to wash out the records of the death of his chief and clansman at K3-leakin. In order to form his plans more effectuall}', he wandered for some time as a mendicant among the Mackenzies, in order the more successfully to flx on the best means and place for his revenge. A solitary life offered up to expiate the manes of his relatives was not suflicient in his estimation, but the life's blood of such a number of his bitterest foemen, and an act at which the country should stand aghast was ab.soliitely necessarv. Returning home, he gathered together a number of the most desperate of his clan, and by a forced march across the hills arrived at the Chui'ch of Cilliechriost on a Sunday forenoon, when it was filled by a crowd of worshippers of the clan Mac- kenzie. Without a moment's delay, without a single pang of remorse, and while the song cf praise ascended to heaven from fathers, mothers, and chil- dren, he surrounded the church with his band, and with lighted torches set fire to the roof The build- ing was thatched, and while a gentle breeze from the east fanned the fire, the song of praise mingled with the crackling of the flames, until the im- prisoned congregation, becoming conscious of their situation, rushed to the doors and windows, where they were met by a double row of bristling swords. Now, indeed, arose the wild wail of despair, the shrieks of women, the infuriated cries of men, and the helpless screaming of children ; these mingled 78 Tales and Legends. ■with the roaring of the flames appalled even the Macdonells, but not so Allan Dubh. ' Thrust them back into the flames,' cried he, ' for he that suffers aught to escape alive from Cilliechriost shall be branded as a traitor to his clan;' and they were thrust back or mercilessly hewn down within the narrow porch, until the dead bodies, piled upon each other, opposed an unsurmoun table barrier to the living. Anxious for the preservation of their young children, the scorching mothers threw them from the windows in the vain hope that the feelings of parents awakened in the breasts of the Macdonells would induce them to spare them, but not so. At the command of Allan of Lundi they were received on the points of the broadswords of men in whose breasts mercy had no place. It was a wild and fear- ful sight, only witnessed by a wild and fearful race. During the tragedy they listened with delight to the piper of the band, who, marching round the burn- ing pile, played, to drown the screams of the victims, an extempore pibroch, which has ever since been distinguished as the war tune of Glengarry, under the title of 'Cilliechriost.' The flaming roof fell upon the burning victims; soon the screams ceased to be heard, a column of smoke and flame leapt into the air, the pibroch ceased, the last smothering groan of existence ascended into the still sky of that Sabbath morning, whispering as it died away that the agonies of the congregation were over. East, west, north, and south looked Allan Dubh Macrauuil. Not a living soul met his eye. The lire he kindled had destroyed, like the spirit of de- solation. Not a sound met his ear, and his own tiger soul sunk within him in dismay. The parish of Cilliechriost seemed swept of every living thing. The fearful silence that prevailed, in a quarter lately so thickly peopled, struck his followers with dread: The Raid of Cilliechriost. 79 for they had given in one hour the inhabitants of a whole parish one terrible grave. The desert which they had created filled them with dismay, heightened into terror by the howls of the masterless sheep dogs, and they turned to fly. Worn out with the sudden- ness of their long march from Glengarry, and with their late fiendish exertions, on their return they sat down to rest on the green face of Glenconvinth, which route they took in order to reach Lundi through the centre of Glenmoriston by Urquhart. Before they fled from Cilliechriost, Allan divided his party into two, one passing by Inverness and the other as already mentioned. The Macdonells, however, were not allowed to escape, for the terrible deed had roused the Mac- kenzies as eflTectually as if the fiery cross had been sent through their territories. A youthful leader, a cadet of the family of Seaforth, in an incredibly short time, found himself surrounded by a deter- mined band of Mackenzies eager for the fray ; these were also divided into two bodies, one commanded by Murdoch Mackenzie of Redcastle, proceeded by Inverness, to follow the pursuit along the southern side of Loch-Ness. Another, headed by Alexander Mackenzie of Coul, struck across the country from Beauly, to follow the party of the Macdonells who fled along the northern side of Loch-Ness under their leader Allan Dubh Macranuil. The party that fled by Inverness were surprised by Redcastle in a public-house at Torbreck, three miles to the west of the town, where they stopped to refresh themselves. The house was set on fire, and they all — thirty-seven in number — suflered the death which, in the earlier part of the day, they had so wantonly inflicted. The Mackenzies, under Coul, after a few hours hard running, came up with the Macdonells as they 80 Tales and Legends. .sought a brief repose on the hills towards the burn of Aultsigh. There the Macdonells maintained an unequal conflict ; but as guilt onl}^ brings faint hearts to its unfortunate votaries, they turned and again fled precipitately to the burn. Many, how- ever, missed the ford, and the channel being rough and rocky several fell imder the swords of the victorious Mackenzies. The remainder, with all the speed they could make, held on for miles, lighted by a splendid and cloudless moon, and when the rays of the morning burst upon them, Allan Dubh Macranuil and his party were seen ascending the southern ridge of Grlen-Urquhart, with the Mac- kenzies close in their rear. Allan, casting an eye be- hind him and observing the superior numbers and determination of his pursuers, called upon his band to disperse, in order to confuse his pursuers, and so divert the chase from himself. This being done, he again set forward at the height of his speed, and after a long run, drew breath to reconnoitre, when, to his disma}^, he found that the avenging Mackenzies were still on his track in one unbroken mass. Again he divided his men and bent his flight towards the shore of Loch-Ness, but still he saw the foe bearing down upon him with redoubled vigour. Becoming fearfully alive to his position, he cried to his few remaining companions again to dis- perse, until they left him, one by one, and he was alone. Allan, who as a mark of superiority and as Captain of the Glengarry Macdonells, always wore a red jacket, was thus easily distinguished from the rest of his clansmen, and the Mackenzies, being anxious for his capture, easily singled him out as the object of their joint and undivided pursuit. Perceiving the sworcl of Vengeance ready to descend on his head, he took a resolution as desperate in its conception as it was unequalled in its accomplishment. Taking a The Raid of Cilliechriost. 81 short course towards the fearful ravine of Aultsigh, he divested himself of his plaid and buckler, and turning to the leader of the Mackenzies, who had nearly come up to him, beckoned him to follow, then, with a few yards of a run, he sprang over the yawn- ing chasm, never before contemplated without a shudder. The agitation of his mind at the moment completely overshadowed the danger of the attempt, and being of an athletic frame, he succeeded in clear- ing the desperate leap. The young and reckless Mackenzie, full of ardour and determined at all hazards to capture the murderer, followed; but, being a stranger to the real width, of the chasm, per- haps of less nerve than his adversary, and certainly not stimulated with the same feelings, he only touched the opposite brink with his toes, and slip- ping downwards, he clung by a slender shoot of hazel which grew over the tremendous abyss. Allan Dubh, looking round on his pursuer and observing the agitation of the hazel bush, immediately guessed the cause, and returning with the ferocity of a demon who had succeeded in getting his victim into his fangs, hoarsely whispered, ' I have given much to your race this day, 1 shall give them this also; surely now the debt is paid;' then cutting the hazel twig with his sword, the intrepid youth was dashed from crag to crag until he reached the stream below, a bloody and misshapen mass. Macranuil again commenced his flight, but one of the Mackenzies, who by this time had come up, sent a musket shot after him, by which he was wounded, and obliged to slacken his pace. None of his pursuers, however, on coming up to Aultsigh, dared or dreamt of taking a leap which had been so fatal to their youthful leader, and were therefore under the necessity of taking a circuitous route to gain the other side. This circumstance enabled F 82 Tales and Legends. Macrannil to increase the distance between him and his pursuers, but the loss of blood, occasioned by his wound, so weakened him that very soon he found his determined enemies were fast gaining on him. Like an infuriated wolf he hesitated whether to await the undivided attack of the Mac- kenzies or plunge into Loch-Ness and attempt to swim across its waters. The shouts of his approach- ing enemies soon decided him, and he sprung into its deep and dark wave. Refreshed by its invigor- ating coolness he soon swam beyond the reach of their muskets ; but in his weak and wounded state it is more than probable he would have sunk ere he had crossed half the breadth had not the firing and the shouts of his enemies proved the means of saving his life. Fraser of Foyers seeing a numerous band of armed men standing on the opposite bank of Loch-Ness, and observing a single swimmer strug- gling in the water, ordered his boat to be launched, and pulling hard to the individual, discovered him to be his friend Allan Dubh, with whose family Fraser was on terms of friendship. Macranuil, thus rescued, remained at the house of Foyers until he was cured of his wound. The influence and the Clan of the Macdonells subsequently declined, while that of the Mackenzies surely and steadily increased. The heavy ridge between the vale of Urquhart and Aultsigh, where Allan Dubh Macranuil so often divided his men, is to this day called Monadh-an- leumanaich, or ' the Moor of the Leaper.' The Skije Factor. 83 LA.CHLAN OG MACKmNON AND THE SKYE FAOTOE. It is happy for the present age that the ancient manners and customs, which were practised in the Highlands and Islands under the feudal system, have long since fallen into oblivion. It would fill volumes to relate the numerous practices which were then resorted to by the feudal lords, many of which were cruel in themselves, and entailed great hard- ships on their submissive vassals, who were bound to obey. As the chiefs had full power over the life and death of their retainers, such of them as betrayed any disobedience or opposition to the stern demands of their superiors, rendered themselves liable to the severest punishment, and frequently to nothing less than the penalty of death. The national laws of Kings and Queens had then but little influence in checking or counteracting the peremptory enact- ments of feudalism. The following striking instance of the remarkable practices alluded to will furnish a specimen to the reader of what took place in Skye, not much more than a century and a-half ago. No sooner did the death of a tenant take place than the event was announced to the laird of the soil. The land-steward, or ground-officer, incurred the displeasure of his master unless that announce- ment were made no later than three days after it had occurred. Immediately after the deceased farmer had been consigned to the grave, the disconsolate 84 Tales and Legends. widow, if he had left one, was waited upon by a messenger from the landlord, to deliver up to him the best horse on the farm, such being reckoned then the legal property of the owner of the soil. This rule was as unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. On large and extensive farms the demand was submitted to without much complaint, by the widow, children, or heirs of the deceased, but it pressed hard upon the occupieis of small tenements of land, and particularly so on helpless widows. But whoever refused, or attempted to evade this heartless enactment, forfeited every right to their farms in future, and became liable to have all their goods and chattels confiscated to the laird. It frequently happened that a ])oor farmer had but one horse, yet even this circumstance did not miti- gate the cruelty of the practice ; foi- the solitary animal was taken away, and frequently so to the great distress of the younger branches of the orphan family, who mourned bitterly, and often shed tears for the loss of their favourite animal. A circumstance took place in the parish of Strath, which v/as, it is said, the means of abolishing this abominable rule. About the beginnintj of the seventeenth century a farmer of the name of Mac- kinnon was gathered to his fathers in the parish, and after his interment the laird's messenger visited the afflicted widow, and, as usual, demanded the best horse on her little farm. Her husband having been a kinsman of the laird, and expecting, in her distress, to receive some sympathy from her chief, and at all events some relaxation of that rule which had been all along so resistlessly put in force, she showed much reluctance to part with the animal. Seeinw this, the officer became more and more de- termined to have it. The widow, in the same manner, became more and more determined in her The Skye Factor. 85 refusal, and appealed to him in vain to submit the case to the decision of her chief. The officer was inexorable, and becoming incensed at the woman's pertinacity he turned from words to blows, and in- flicted some severe wounds on the helpless female to the effusion of blood. She, however, retaliated, and through desperation, assuming more courage, addressed her little son, a boy of four, that stood weeping by her side, and said to him in her own emphatic vernacular : — " Cha mhac mar an t-athair thu, a' Lachlainu Oig, Mar diol thu le f uil droch caithreamh do mh&thar ; 'S mar smail thu gu has, le dioghaltas air choir, Am borb-fliear fiadhaich so, am m6rtair gu'n nkr I" Literally translated : — "Thou art not a son like the father, my young Lachlan, Unless thou requite with blood the ill-treatment of thy mother ; And unless thou dash to death, with due revenge, This fierce and savage fellow— this barefaced murderer !" The mother's charge to her bov cannot be said to be tempered with much Christian feeling or principle, yet it was according to the geneially cherished practices of the system under which she lived. Then it was that might was right, and revenge bravery. But to return to the subject — the widow's cries and tears, excitement and eloquence, were all in vain. The officer made off with the horse, and delivered it to his chief Matters went on in this way, in various quarters, for a considerable time, until at length, and about twenty years thereafter, the same officer appeared on the same errand at a neicrhbourin^ widow's door, and deprived her as usual of her best horse. The circumstance was brought underthe notice of Lachlan 86 Tales and Legends. Og, and having been, no doubt, frequently reminded of the cruelty inflicted by that official on his mother, he determined to embrace the present befitting occasion for displaying his dire revenge. It may be stated that young Lachlan was noted in the district for his great agility and muscular strength. He made no delay in pursuing the officer, and having come up to him at a distance of some miles, he seized him by the neck and sternly demanded the widow's horse, reminding him, at the same time, of the treatment inflicted by him on his mother twenty years befoi-e. The officer stood petrified with fear, seeing fierceness and revenge depicted so very un- mistakably in young Mackinnon's face. Yet still he grasped the animal by the halter, and would not permit his youthful assailant to intermeddle with it. The strife commenced, and that in right earnest, but in a few moments the officer fell lifeless on the ground. Mackinnon, seizing his dirk, dissevered the head from the body, and washed it in a fountain by the wayside, which is still pointed out to the traveller as ' Tobar a' chinn,' or ' The Well of the Head.' He then, at once, mounted the horse, and galloped oflf to the residence of his chief, carrying the bloody head in his left hand on the point of his dirk. His appearance at the main entrance, with the ghastly trophy still bleeding in his hand, greatly alarmed the menials of the mansion. Without dis- mounting, he inquired if Mackinnon v.-as at home, and being told that he was, he said, ' Go and tell my chief that I have arrived to present him with the head of his officer " Donnachadh Mor," in case that he might wish to embalm it and hang it up in his baronial hall as a trophy of heartlessness and cruelty.' The message was instantly delivered to the laird, who could not believe that such a dia- bolical deed could be perpetrated by any of his The Skije Factor. 87 dan, but still he came out to see. On his appear- ance in the court, Lachlan Og dismounted, did obeisance to his chief, and prominently exhibited the dripping head by lifting it up on his dirk. 'What is this, Lachlan; what murder is this?' asked the excited chief. Lachlan explained the whole in full detail, and related the circumstances of the present transaction, as well as of the inhuman treat- ment which his mother had received when he was a child. The chieftain pondered, paused, and de- clared that these cruelties had been practised un- known to him. He granted a free pardon to Lachlan Og, appointed him his officer in room of Donnachadh Mor, and issued an edict over all his estate that thereafter neither widow nor orphan, heir, nor kindred, would ever be deprived by him of their horse, or of any other part of their property. 88 Tales and Legends. JAMES aEANT OF CAEEON. Seumas-an-Tuim, alias James Grant of Carron, in Strathspey, is one of those Highland notabilities who have made themselves famous for deeds of law- lessness and rapine. Seumas is the subject of the well-known sono-; — 'O A inhnathan a ghlinne, A mhnathan a ghlinne, A mhnathan a ghlinne, Nach mithich dhuibh eiridh. Ye women of the glen, Ye women of the glen. Ye women of the glen. Is it not time for you to rise, 'Seumas-an-Tuim 'ag iomain na [ And James-an-Tuim driving spreidhe, | away your cattle. The melody of this song is a beautiful one, and has been adapted to the great Highland bagpipe, in the shape of a well-known pibroch — ' The Bread- albane Gathering,' or ' Bodaich na'm briogais,' and associated with a victory, which John Glas, first Earl of Breadalbane, gained over the Sinclairs of Caithness, at Allt-nam-mearlach. This was towards the close of the seventeenth century. But the air belongs to an earlier period. Seumas-an-Tuim flour- ished at the beginning of that century. The wild career of this man seems to have origi- nated in accident. Unintentionally he slew his cousin, one of the Ballindalloch family. The con- sequence was a fierce feud between the Grants of Ballindalloch and the Grants of Carron, and James, finding his enemies implacable, became lawless and desperate. In retaliation for his deeds of spoliation, Grant of Carron. 89 Ballindalloch, hearing that John Grant of Carron, James's brother, with a party of his men, was cutting timber in the forest of Abernethy, set upon them and slew the Laird of Carron, on the presumption that he aided the outlaw. The Earl of JMurray, then Lord Lieutenant of the county, interposing to pro- tect Ballindalloch, Seumas-an-Tuim vowed that he would avenge himself by his own hand. On the 3rd of December 1G30, he came with a number of fol- lowers to Pitchas, the residence of Ballindalloch, burned his corn-yard, his barns, byres, and stables, with the cattle, horses, and sheep, driving away such as escaped the flames. Then he went with his men to Tulchiu, the residence of old Ballindalloch, where he did in like manner, driving away as many of his cattle and horses as escaped the conflagration. Not- withstanding all this, he succeeded in eluding every attempt on the part of the Earl of Murray to capture him ; who having failed in every effort to do so by force, had recourse to stratagem. Acting in accord- ance with the proverb of ' setting a thief to catch a thief,' he employed three ' broken men,' with whom he made a compact, offering handsome rewards should they succeed in bringing Seumas-an-Tuim into his hands dead or alive. The principal man of the three — a curious comment on the social condition of those times — was a brother of the Chief of the Clan Mackintosh. For a time they were unable to effect their purpose either by force or by stealth ; such was the prowess, as well as the vigilance of Grant and his men. At length they managed to surprise him ih a house at Achnakill, in Strathaven, where he happened to be, along with a party of ten men. Not expecting danger, and unprepared for resist- ance, James and his men betook themselves to flight. Mackintosh pursued him, slew four of his followers, and wounded James himself with arrows, 90 Tales and Legends. inflicting eleven wounds. He was captured along with six of his men. The men were hangred. And as soon as his own wounds were cured he was con- ducted under safe guard to the Castle of Edinburgh ; being, says Spalding in his quaint style, "admired and looked upon as a man of great vassalage." Here James remained a prisoner for a period of two years. It is related that an old neighbour of his. Grant of Tomavoulin, happened to pass one day under his prison window. James saw him, and asked, " What news from Speyside ?" " None very particular," was the answer; "the best news I have is, that the country is rid of you." " Perhaps," said James, " we shall meet again." During his impri- sonment he was permitted to see friends occasionally, who supplied him with something better than ordi- nary prison fare ; and in a small cask, covered over with butter, his wife succeeded, on one of these occasions, in furnishing him with cord sufficient to enable him to effect his escape through his prison window. This was in October 1632. His son waited for him, and accompanied him in his flight; but for which he would have died by the way. In conse- quence of his confinement and other hardships, he lay for nine days in a wood near Denny, and thence made his way to his old haunts, where he lay con- cealed and inactive for a year. Meantime the Privy Council was greatly exasperated at his escape, and offered large rewards for his apprehension. But the restless and daring man could not be idle; and now that his health was recovered and the vigil- ance of his enemies allayed, he again betook him- self to his old schemes of revenge and denredation — 'partly travelling through the country, sometimes on Speyside, sometimes here, sometimes there, with- out fear or dread,' but always havinef a sharp eye on his old enemy Ballindalloch. Ballindalloch, in self- Grant of Carron. 91 defence, was obliged once more to attempt to set bounds to the attacks of James ; and accordingly he hired a band of the outlawed Macgregors to do this job for him. These men were under the leadership of Patrick Dubh Gearr, a man little less famous for his exploits than Seumas-an-Tuim himself. James being at Carron one night with his sori and an only servant, the Macgregors surrounded the house, while some of the party ascended the roof to uncover it and get at their victim. Grant hearing the noise, and finding himself beset by his enemies, resolved to defend the door, aided by his son and servant ; and meantime made such good use of his arrows through the windows that the Macgregors were kept at bay. Patrick Gearr, bolder than his followers, venturing forward to force the door. Grant took aim at him with his gun and shot him through both legs, and in the confusion which followed the fall of their leader, James escaped through the roof and was once more beyond the reach of his pursuers. Gearr, it appears, died of his wounds, and Grant was lauded as a public benefactor. 'Patrick Gearr was a notable thief, robber, and briganer, oppressing the people wherever he came.' and therefore they rejoiced at his death. Seumas-an-Tuim now resolved to fight Ballin- dalloch single-handed with his own weap< ns. Ac- cordingly, while the latter was sitting quietly and unsuspiciously^ in his own house, on a dark December night, a messenger came to the door and told his servant that a well-known fiiend was waiting out- side to speak to him. Ballindalloch at once re- sponded and sallied forth to meet his friend (?). But no sooner was he outside than he was suddenly smothered in plaids by a party of unknown men — Seumas-an-Tuim and his followers — and hurried away in this helpless condition, over moss and moor. 92 Tales and Legends. he knew not whither. They carried him in this miserable plight, all the way to the neighbourhood of Elgin, where they confined him in an old kiln, for three weeks, almost in a state of starvation. Eventually, and with great difficulty, Ballindalloch made his escape by the aid of one of his guards, whom he bribed to effect his release. Meantime, the Macgregors desolated the country with fire and sword in revenge for the death of their redoubtable leader Patrick Gearr. It was at this time that the famous outlaw Gilderoy, the well-known hero of tradition and song, came to the fi'ont. He succeeded to the leadership which became vacant by the death of Patrick. The man who taunted Seumas-an-Tuim when imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle, was one Thomas Grant, a Speyside man. Nothing daunted by pre- vious failures to capture James, he volunteered, at the request of Ballindalloch, to bring him dead or alive into his hands. This came to the ear of James. He went to Grant's house at once, and not finding him, he gratified his revenge by killing sixteen of his cattle. Finding him shortly thereafter at the house of a friend, and in bed, he dragged him naked out of the hovise and dispatched him with many wounds, and so fulfilled his own prison vaticinations — " Perhaps we shall meet again." Notwithstanding the wild and lawless career of this man, living as he did in open defiance of law and order, and in the commission of all kinds of atrocities, he managed somehow to elude every efibrt made to bring him to justice. He even suc- ceeded in obtaining a public remission of his crimes, and survived to take an active part in the troubles in which the country was involved during the Com- monwealth. James, we suppose more from policy than principle, attached himself to the winning side. Grant of Carron. 93 and had his services rew^arded by receiving immunity for all his misdeeds. What a contrast those times are to the times in which we live ? It seems hardly credible that such lawless and atrocious deeds could be performed in the face of day, within so comparatively recent a period and amid scenes where peace and prosperity now reign paramount. Yet so it is; and with blood upon his hands, enough to have hanged scores of other men, Seumas-an-Tuim lived to a green old age, and died peaceably and quietly in his bed — the theme of story and song. '(SQ 94 Tales a.nd Legends. JOHN MACKAY. Donald Mackay of Farr, a firm ally of, and related to, the Gordons, Earls of Sutherland, was through them brought under the notice of, and knighted by, James VI. in 1616. Afterwards, having raised, by licence of the King, a regiment of 3000 men, who left Cromarty in 1624, to assist Count Mansfield in his campaign in Germany, he was created a baronet. Next year he was raised to the peerage, under the title ©f Lord Reay, when, with a number of other gentlemen from Ross, Sutherland, and Caithness, he served under Gustavus Adolphus in his campaigns for Protestantism. Lord Reay afterwards showed his attachment to royalty by taking up arms in defence of Charles I., for whose cause he brought from Denmark arms, ships, and a large sum of money. Taken prisoner at Newcastle, he was confined in. Edinburgh until after the battle of Kilsyth, when he was released, and shortly after he embarked from Thurso for Denmark, where he died. He was succeeded by his second son John, who was married to a daughter of Scourie, said to have been a woman of great beauty, and of singularly fascinating manners. Brought up in the principles and opinions of his Royalist father, it was little to be wondered at that Lord Reay joined Glencairn in his rising for the King in 1654. When the Earl of Middleton took the command at Dornoch of the John Mackay. 95 Koyalist troops, by virtue of a commission from Charles IL, thus superseding Glencairn, Lord Reay continued to serve under the new General till he was taken prisoner at Balveny, and conveyed to Edinburgh Tolbooth, where he remained during a lengthened period of the troubles of the Common- wealth, but at length effected his escape in the following manner : — One autumn afternoon might be seen emerging from the gloomy doors of the Heart of Mid-Lothian — as the Tolbooth of Edinburgh was designated — two very remarkable forms. A lady, young and of wondrous beauty, her hair of that shade of which the poets of our land have so loved to sing — "a gowden yellow" — as seen by a few stray ringlets from beneath the plaid drawn over her head ; her eyes, brilliantly blue, flashed in their glances of anxiety ; her figure, straight and lithe as the lily stalk, and as she walked seemed to exhibit the very poetry of motion. Her attendant, a man of gigantic size, and stout in proportion, of fierce aspect, save when his glance fell upon his mistress, bore the Lochaber-axe, dirk, and sgian dubh — his arms, which he had just received back from the sentries or guards as he stepped into the street, and which he had left outside in order that he might be ad- mitted to the prison. The contrast between the two was most marked, as was also the conversation. The lady was the wife of the Lord John Reay, the prisoner in the jail from which they had just stepped forth. The man was their trusty henchman, John Mackay, the favourite of his noble master and mistress, as much for his courage as for his fidelity and gentleness, and their pride in him as a clansman of enormous size and strength. If Lady Reay was anxious, John was equally so — 9.6 Tales and Legends. his eyes seemed to follow every glance of hers, like an attached hound seeking to anticipate the owner's wish. Looking round to John, who followed a few steps behind, while she seemed to hesitate in her progress, she said, as if half communing with herself, ' I will go, and God be with me.' ' Surely, my lady, but where to ?' ' I will see Cromwell — will entreat him, he may listen to me.' ' Surely, my lady, and what for no ?' And away went Lady Reay to endeavour to ob- tain an interview with Oliver Cromwell, then in Edinburgh at the head of the Parliamentary troops. Access to Cromwell was a difficult matter, but Lady Reay was fortunate in obtaining an introduc- tion through an intimate friend. As she was pre- sented, Cromwell, in his usual abrupt manner, was in the act of turning away, when her ladyship fell on her knees at his feet, and, catching the skirts of his coat, poured forth in heart-breaking, agonised supplications her entreaties for her husband's release. Struck by her deportment, her beauty, and her lan- guage, he listened, and finally, overcome by her sup- plication, said he would willingly do all in his power to serve her, and restore her husband to her; but as Lord Reay was a State prisoner, the Committee of Estates could alone discharge him from custody. On hearing his decision, she became so affected that Cromwell at last declared to her that if she could by any means get her husband out of ward, he would grant him a protection to prevent his further molestation. This protection he wrote and handed to her ladyshi}), who retired with heightened hopes, springing she knew not what from. When she left the lodofin&s of Cromwell, she glanced hastily round for her henchman, who in an instant was by her side. ' Aweel, my lady,' said John Mackay. 97 John, ' what will the bodach do V ' He will do nothing, John ; but he has given me this pass, which would be all that would be required if we only could get his loi'dship outside the prison, walls, and tliat, I fear, is impossible.' ' Prut, my lady, ilka thing is possible.' ' But how will it be done, John V ' Ach, it's easy durkin' the turnkey body inside, and the twa sentries at the door.' ' Ah, John, John, we must have no blood, and still less murder, whatever happen; besides, you your- self would suffer death.' ' Aweel, that's little for Mackay's sake.' ' Promise me, John, that not a hair of these men's heads shall be hurt, whatever we attempt ; remember they are only doing their duty. Promise me.' And John promised. Lady Reay and her servant had free access to his lordship at all times. Outside the prison door was a wicket, guarded within by a turnkey, who gene- rally lolled against it, or rested himself upon a form beside. Outside the main door were two sentries placed as guards, who either crossed each other in their steady walk, or stood at ease, one on each side of the doorway. As Lady Reay was a favourite with the turnkey, on account of the politeness which she daily showed him, he did not think it necessary to lock his lordship's cell during the time of her ladyship's visit, and at last got into the habit of allowing his lordship to accompany Lady Reay till she passed through the wicket, on her leaving for the night. On the day following her visit to Cromwell, Lord Reay, as usual, accompanied her ladyship, and while she was stepping bej^ond the wicket, he suddenly laid hold of the turnkey, and, laying him down in the G 98 Tales and Legends. passage, placed the form above him, seized his keys, and passing through the wicket locked him in. The lady having effected her part so far, of which John was perfectly aware hy sound, though he could not turn round to see, he at once seized the sentries, one in each hand, and laying one down, placed the other above him, kicking their arms to a distance, while Lord Eeay sprang over them and rushed down the street. Addressing the soldiers, who had ceased to struggle in the grip of their powerful opponent, he said — ' Now, lads, you will just be good and be quiet, or if you no be quiet, I will just have to shake your pickle brains out of their pans, and so you'll see what you shall see ; but if you are good, I'll give myself quietly up to be put into the jail instead of his lordship.' John accordingly surrendered himself, and, loaded with irons, was lodged in the Tolbooth. In due time he was brought to trial for aiding the escape of a State prisoner, and Cromwell was present as President. Said he — ' There is no doubt that the servant has duly forfeited his life, but his conduct and fidelity, which went to release his master, and perhaps have saved his life, were of so high a character, and so heroic, that if this man were put to death for qualities so valuable and so commendable, and particularly seeing that nothing hurtful resulted to the State from his doings, it would discourage every faithful servant from doing his duty. I therefore propose that, for the sake of justice, John Mackay, the prisoner at the bar, shall be condemned to death ; but that, under the circum- stances of the case, the punishment shall be re- mitted, and Mackay shall leave the bar a free man.' During the time that John Mackay was digest- ing the speech of Cromwell, the latter was taking a John MacJcay. 99 steady look of the former, when he exclaimed to those around him, while he remarked Mackay's fierce aspect and athletic form — ' May I ever be kept from the devil's and that man's grasp.' On the other hand, John's remark on Cromwell, whom he had as carefully noticed, was — ' The deil's no sae doure as he's ca'ed.' 100 Tales and Legends. THE CUMMING'S OF BADENOCH. The Oummings were always a turbulent and haughty race, wlio for many generations inliabited the wilds of JStrathspey and Badenoch. One of them upon a time claimed the throne of Scotland ; and the deceitful wretch, who, after having entered into a mutual bond with Robert the Bruce (the great deliverer of Scotland from English oppi-ession and tyranny, and who for ever established the in- dependence of his country), for the deliverance of their common country, beti'ayed him to Edward. Bruce, however, managed to get away from the Eno-lish court, and meeting the deceitful Cummin^ in the church of the Grey Friars in Dumfries, on the 10th of February 1305, a warm altercation took place, in the course of which Bruce charged the Comyn, as he was called, with treachery to himself and his country. The Comyn returned an insulting answer, when Bruce instantly stabbed him with his dagger on the ste])s of the high altar. The Cum- mings and the Shaws were always at feud with each other, the latter, being the weaker, at least in point of numbers, always getting the worst of it ; and on one occasion their chief was murdered by their inveterate enemies and oppressors, the Cum- mings. A general slaughter took place at this particular period ; but Shaw's only child, a boy of only a few months old, escaped, he having fallen into the hands of a devoted female dependent of the The Cummings of Badenoch. 101 family, wlio, to secure him from danger and to avoid the general carnage, made off across hills and mountains, through moors and forests, to the resi- dence of the laird of Strathardale in the Hiirhlands of Perthshire, whom she knew as an old and trusted friend of her late chief. She arrived, after nnich fatigue and many hardships, at the ' Baron's ' resi- dence ; informed him of the cruel fate of her late master, and the flower of his clan ; how she escaped with her precious charge, and entreated Strathardale, for the love he bore the late Kothiemurchus, and the long and intimate friendship which had existed between them, to take charge of his youthful son, and save him from the savage clutches of the Cum- mino's. Matters were soon arranged to the satis- faction of both parties, and the faithful woman went home quite satisfied that the youth would be well attended to, and brought up among Strathar- dale's own children, as befitted the rightful and youthful heir of Rothiemui'c'iius. She returned to her own country in due time, found all her old acquaintances and friends slaugh- tered or trampled upon, and scourged by the blood- thirsty and cruel Cummings ; all the ancient pos- sessions of the Shaws ruled by and, apparently, in the everlasting possession of the inveterate enemies of her kith and kin. Years and days passed away, and those days and years added growth and vigour to the young heir, who, until he attained to years of discretion, was carefull}^ kept in the dark as to the real and true nature of his birthright. When at last it was revealed to him, his whole soul seemed to have been roused, and he determined to spend his whole time and all the energies of his body and mind to pi-epare and carry out a scheme for the recovery of his ancient patrimony, to contest his claim with the proud and haughty house of Cum- 102 , Tales and Legends. ming, and avenge the cruel murder of his father and kinsmen. In due time young Shaw decided upon paying a visit to his native district to ascertain the real state of matters, and if possible to wrench from his enemies the heritage which they had so long and so unjustly possessed. Arriving at Rothiemurchus, after a most perilous journey and escorted by a strong body of followers, he lost no time in calling upon his bene- factor, Janet Shaw, whose history, antecedents, and devoted conduct to himself in his early days he had learnt from his Perthshire protector. He was di- rected to her lonely cottage, the door of which he found strongly bolted from the inside. He at once announced himself and begged to be admitted, but his voice was quite strange to Janet's ear. No amount of entreaty or persuasion would induce her to unbolt the door until she had satisfactory proof that she was not being deceived ; for poor Janet had good reason to have little faith in her surroundings. She could not bring herself to believe that her old pro- t^gd could be so foolhardy as to appear in the dis- trict among the sworn enemies of his race. Shaw, however, continued to insist upon his individuality, and at last Janet told him to exhale his breath through the keyhole and she would thus soon satisfy herself as to his identity. Doubting this singular and delicate mode of recognition on the part of Janet, Shaw requested one of his attendants to supply his place in the first experiment. This done Janet at once firmly and sternly resented the attempt made to deceive her by one who, she said, must be an enemy trying to secure an entrance to her place of abode with no good intention, and told him ' Bi falbh, bi falbh, a chealgaire, cha'n eil gaoth t'ainealach ach fuaraidh an aite anail mhilis, bhlasda leanaban mo ghaoil ' (Be off", be off", deceitful wretch, the odour of The Cummings of Badenoch. 103 your breath is bnt cold in comparison with the sweet and savoury breath of my own beloved child). iShaw could no longer trifle with the feelings of one whom he discovered had still continued to take such an interest in him, and he felt vexed that he had acted in, what might be construed by Janet, such a heart- less manner. He asked her to give him another chance to meet her in her own way, explained the hoax to her, breathed through the keyhole himself, satisfied the devoted Janet that he was really 'her own beloved child,' when, with an exclamation of joy, she unbolted and threw open the door, warmly saluted and received him in her arms, and bedewed him with tears of affection. For the moment his manhood failed him, and the two wept — it is difficult to decide whether most in consequence of the vivid recollections brought up of misfortune and misery in the past, or from a spontaneous outburst of jo}-^ in meeting one another in such peculiar circumstances, after such a long, and as Janet believed, permanent separation. Young Shaw, however, soon recovered himself, and after mutual congratulations and various refer- ences and inquiries as to the past lives and ad- ventures of each other, he learnt from Janet that all the male Cummings were away on a foraging ex- pedition in the south, and that they were expected to return with the creach on the following day. This was considered a most favourable and opportune circumstance, and one which must be taken advan- tage of without hesitation or delay. Shaw at once decided to intercept them on their way home and extinguish them root and branch or perish in the at- tempt. He and his trusted followers passed a sleep- less night in Janet's cottage. To satisfy their hunger she insisted upon having her only cow slaughtered at once. This was done, and it was soon roasted be- 104 Tales and Legends. fore a blazing fire of peat and moss fir. No effort "was spared on Janet's part to make them as comfort- able as possible, no doubt naturally feeling that if her favourite was successful in his desperate enter- prise she would be well provided for during the re- mainder of her days. The rest of the night was spent by Shaw and his plucky companions sorting their arms and arranging their dispositions for the following morning. They started before the break of day, and took a secluded position on the Callort Hill, at the eastern extremity of Rothiemurchus, situated between two roads lead- from Strathspey. They exultingly felt that they had the Cummings in the immediate grasp of their in- veterate vengeance, and sure of their ability to com- plete their utter destruction and annihilation. Old Janet, who accompanied Shaw and his friends, re- commended this as the best and most convenient spot from which to attack the enemy, as they were sure to return by that route, and she was determined to take a part in the fortunes of war herself; for, she said, if the day went against tliem, it was certain death for her, whether she followed them and shared their danger or stopped at home in her lonely cottage. She then ascended a neighbouring hill, which com- manded a good view of the two roads, by one of which the Cummings must return. Janet was soon on the top, and after a period of watchful suspense, descried the enemy slowly advancing straight upon the very spot where Shaw and his followers lay in ambush. She immediately gave the alarm by a pre-arranged signal, the watchword being — ' Tha na gobhair anns a Challort' (The goats are in the Cal- lort). Shaw and his companions immediately pre- pared for the mortal combat, in which he was to secure the patrimony of his race or die in the attempt. Like a horde of hun»rv wolves fallino' on their inno- The Cummings of Badenoch. 105 cent and defenceless prey, Shaw and his companions fell on the first batch of their astonished and unpre- pared victims, and felled them to the ground like mown grass. They were travelling in detached companies, each party driving a separate lot of cattle lifted from the Southron, and as each party came up, ignol-ant of the fate of the preceding one, they were soon dispatched by the infuriated and successful Shaws ; not a Gumming was allowed to escape. They were all buried on the spot, which is to this day called Lag-nan-Cuimeanach, or the Hollow of the Cummings. ' The green grassy mounds which, after the lapse of centuries, overtop the heather at this scene of blood-thirsty vengeance, mark the rest- ing place and commemorate the overthrow of one of the most savage races that ever existed in the Hig-h- lands of Scotland.' After this desperate and successful encounter with the Cummings no serious difficulties presented them- selves against Shaw taking possession of the estate and property of his predecessors. His kinsmen and friends, who so long writhed under the oppressive yoke of the hated enemy, now rallied round their young and rightful chief with alacrity and unmis- takable signs of delight. It was not long, however, before matters took another and an ugly turn. Shaw's mother survived the general massacre and ruin of the clan when the Cummings took possession, and matters had so far prospered with her, still re- siding in the district, tliat during the minority and absence of her son she ao;ain entered the matrimonial state v/ith a " Southron," whose name was Dallas. Young Shaw had so far condoned this step on his mother's part, considering the straitened circum- stances in which she was left, that he not only for- gave her, but invited herself and her husband to reside with him in his mansion of Doune. Matters lOG Tales and Legends. continued pleasantly and smoothly for a time, but, as usual in such cases, after a while some dis- agreeable and discordant elements began to mani- fest themselves, and the youth was too proud and haughty in spirit to conceal his increasing ill-will and animosity towards his stepfather. On a certain oc- casion, among a large company of their friends, this disagreeable feeling found vent, when unpleasant remarks were given expression to on both sides. Shaw looked daggers, but held his hand until on his way home, at a lonely and secluded spot, he suddenly drew forth his dagger, and with little or no pre- liminary ceremonial dispatched his stepfather by stabbing him to the heart. The place is known to this day as Lag-an-Dalaisich. INot satisfied with this brutal and murderous deed, he severed the head from the body, and carrying the bloody trophy to his mother, stuck on the point of his dagger, on arriving at home, he threw it at her, tauntingly ex- claiming, " There it is for you, take it, the head of your blackguard and detested husband." The state of the poor woman's feelings at the sight of such a horrid spectacle, brought about by the hand of her own offspring, cannot be described. She cursed him loudly for the unnatural part he had acted. The keenest resentment was aroused in her breast, and she determined to use every means in her ])ower to have him punished for his cruel and detestable con- duct. She urged upon every one whom she could influence, and who had any influence in the district, to stir up and rouse the vigilance of the law, feeble as it then was in such an out-of-the-way place. She unceasingly impressed upon everyone the detestable nature and enormity of the crime her son had been guilty of, and the great injustice he had inflicted upon herself. The result was that young Shaw was soon proclaimed an outlaw, and his whole property. The Cummings of Badenoch. 107 rights, and possessions reverted to the Crown. He soon after died broken-hearted, despised by friends and foes alike; and his heritage has continued since to be the property of the ' Lairds of Grant,' who, for a mere nominal sum, bought the forfeiture from the Crown. 108 Tales and Legends. GLENaAERY AND HIS FAVOUSITE. Many ages ago, when a powerful but capi'icious chief of Glengarry was erecting the venerable and stern mansion, whose ruins still arrest the stranger's eye, he very iDJudiciously chose his companion and favourite from the humblest class of his retainers; and this one, like the generality of favourites once corrupted by a superior's improper familiarity, soon forgot prudence and propriety. One day, when the castle's infant walls had just upreared their massy front over their foundation, and while their warlike founder, in company with another chief, was super- intending and admiring the progress of the building, up came the fovourite with the gi-eatest air of con- fidence, and Avithont even saluting, as was then customary, his lord and chief, the dread possessor of unlimited feudal power, accosted him thus, in the presence of a recently conciliated rival — ' Alas ! poor chief, know ye what the M'Bhethains say ? They call you miser, and inquire, how comes it that you could not spare a little silver and gold to be placed in thy castle's foundation, as is customary with other chiefs ? Your present companion, they say,' allud- ing to the chief already noticed, 'has as much silver in the foundation of his castie as would buy yours.' At this the stranger sneered with fiendish pleasure, seeing him whose friendship fear, not love, prompted him to court, but whom he fervently hated at heart, so much insulted by his own vassal. The chief Glengarry and his Favourite. 109 himself was too severely stung — his rage was too gigantic — to stoop to instentaneou.s revenge: besides, it was derogatory for a chief to inflict personal chas- tisement on a vassal, and impracticable to do so in presence of another chief; but his brow was clouded, and his face was darkened as he spoke, until, recol- lecting himself, he smothered up his rage, and, en- deavouring to assume an appearan-:-e of cheerfulness, he exclaimed — ' You are right Raxjuuil, I have quite omitted to do what you remind me of, I therefore thank you for the hint, and, believe me, I allow you more merit, from a conviction that I am not directly or indirectly beholden tn those you mention for the suggestion, as it is not then- own custom to do the like; however, it should be done, and, with your assistance, we will correct the omission to-night.' The vassal retired chuckling, at what he considered the effect of his influence. It is impossible to dis- cover the cause which had prompted him to talk so insultinelv to his lord and master: some attribute it to the disappointment of dishonest expectations, supposing that he intended to abstract any jewelleiy which might be deposited as a memento in the foundation : while others imagine that his chief must have previously offended him, and that the insult was intended; but more probably his main object was to ingi-atiate himself with the stranger. M'Raonuil lived in a small solitar}- cottage, a con- siderable distance from the residence of his chief, and, late on the night in question, he was startled in his slumbers by a loud knocking at his door ; he arose trembling, with a secret di-ead of something unknown,, and shuddered involuntarily as he opened his door to discover the cause of this disturbance. He opened it, and lo ! there stood his chief, alone, with a naked dagger in one hand, and a dark lantern in the other, frowning like a spirit of vengeance. 110 Tales and Legends. The frightened vassal at this terrific sight quickly sank on his bended knee to implore his chieftain's grace and mercy, his heart bursting with remorse and sorrow, but the ear of vengeance would not listen to the importunities of remorse, nor to the supplicat- ing sighs of fear. ' Come,' said the stern and angry chief, ' arise, shake off that ague fit and follow me, for I require your service!' To disobey the chief was a crime unknown and unheard of in those days, and his peremptory command and determined ap- pearance showed the vassal that remonstrance or question was vain and futile ; so with a tremulous hand he arrayed himself in his best apparel, and with a bursting and yearning heart — He bade his wife and children dear, A long, a last adieu, and mournfully prepared to follow his chief. They sallied forth in silence and in gloom, the doomed man (for he knew his fate was sealed), marched sullenly behind. Neither seemed inclined to dis- turb the drowsy stillness which reigned around them; and as they marched along, the owl's screech voice assailed the vassal's ear, proclaiming the omin- ous words, ' man prepare to die,' and ever and anon, when the glare of the chief's dim lantern gleamed upon him, it exhibited to the unhappy victim the dia- bolical smile which grinned on his chief's counten- ance at the proximity of such a feast of vengeance. At length they reached the castle, in the deep silence of midnight! where the chief, pointing to a gloomy excavation which he had caused that night to be made in its foundation, desired his vassal to enter, which, without the least hesitation, he did, mourn- ing as he went, and wringing his ha,nds in utter grief. As soon as he entered he saw the muscular chief with great dijfficulty roll a ponderous stone Glengarry and his Favourite. Ill over the mouth of his dim and dreary sepulchre, and heard him chanting to himself, as in mockery, the M'Raonuil's dirge; but these cheerless sounds soon grew faint and ultimately died away. The chief now quitted the castle, intending to drown all thoughts of its forlorn captive, amidst the riot and luxurious turbulence which a chieftain's life afforded, but he found himself mistaken. The foul deed he had that night performed made a deep and indelible impression on his mind, and go where he would he wandered like a forlorn outcast, changed, dejected, and thoughtful. Wherever he roamed his weeping captive came trembling to his mind. If awake, it was of him, and him only, that he thought, and if asleep, he dreamed only of him, and, often in the deep stillness of night, a sullen voice whispered in his ear — ' the heavy punishment you have inflicted on your clans- man is too severe for the venal crime he committed, therefore you cannot expect to fight victoriously under such a load of guilt.' It happened that at this time the chief was about to enter into a struggle with an aggressive and powerful neighbour, and on the result of this combat depended his own and clansmen's lives. Their an- tagonists were far superior in point of number, and were warriors renowned for their wonderful exploits — for fearlessness, daring, and courage; but they were a ruthless and relentless enemv, and whatever they vanquished they utterly destroyed. They seemed to fight not for any chivalrous honour, but rather from the devilish pleasure they had in reduc- ino- to ashes that which other men took months and years to build. In short, these spoilers took great umbrage at the chief of Glengarry, which meant certain destruction, unless he could defeat them in arms, and so he, in desperation, determined, as his 112 Tales and Legends. only chance of safety, to hazard a battle. Yes! he would have a struggle, a fierce and furious struggle, ere he sank beneath the iron hand of a despotic rival: and if he did fall, he, like the dying lion, would wound the earth in his throes. He would not bleed like the bleating lamb, nor would he imi- tate the timid hind, and seek safety by flight! No! he had fangs like the wolf, and with these he would tear the flesh from the bones of his oppressor. On the tenth day after the captivity of his late favourite, he had his clan marshalled and under arms, awaiting the approach of the foe whom he had challenged to meet him there, to settle their dispute b}' open combat. His wai-riors were all burning for distinction in the field, but none more ardently than himself, and as he glanced proudly alonof their line he smiled on hearing;- them curse the lazy foe, who lagged so tardilj^ on their way to meet him. This was in the vicinity of the rising castle, and as he wished to enter the fight as guilt- less as possible, it struck him that he had better relieve himself, if possible, from the guilt of his prisoner's undeserved misery, and to effect this pur- pose, he stole unperceived to the vault, and with the assistance of a common plank, used as a lever, he soon i-aised up the huge stone, and having placed a suflicient counterpoise to preserve the entrance, he entered, but scarcely had he done so when snap went the lever, and down came the stone with a tremen- dous force. In an instant he perceived the fearful calamity which had befallen him. He knew that all was now over, for it was impossible to remove the stone, from the interior of the vault; and, in terrible despair, he sat, or threw himself down, writhing with extreme mental agony. To make his misery greater he heard (or thought he heard) his trusty clansmen expressing their amazement at his Glengarry and his Favourite. 113 unexpected and cowardly desertion, and heard (or thought he heard) the sentinels, whom he himself had placed, proclaim with extended lungs — ' The foe! they come! they come!' Then he heard the din of war on the heath, and the shock of battle sound, 'like a crash of echoing thunder,' and then the shout triumphant of his foes — and oh! he would have given his very soul's redemption for power to arise from that murky dungeon and stalk to the midst of the combat like an angel of death — And perish if it must be so, At bay destroying many a foe. When the sounds of strife and every hope had died away, the shout triumphant, and the dying yells, he thought on the lone sharer of his captivity, whom he could discover was still alive, and he wondered that the soul, ever eager as an iron bound prisoner to escape, should be enticed by such misery to linger — for his part he would rather flutter like the butterfly through its sweet though short career, than live, like the toad, a thousand years prisoner to a marble block. As he mused thus in painful silence his deliverers arrived. They were his victorious foes — and those of his own clan who had survived the field of battle- — the little remnant who had but now given his little band like chaff to the four warring winds of the earth. They came in quest of riches, which they supposed had been deposited in the vault. The stone was rolled away, and one by one they dropped into the vault, but each as he entered, fell a victim to the fury of its angry and exasperated inmate, who shortl}' afterwai-ds, with the aid of his old favourite vassal, quitted its gloomy precincts, leaving his enemy and his laurels there to wither and to die. 114 Tales and Legends. CASTLE UEQUKART AND THE FUQITIVE LOYEES. Glen-Urquliart. where Castle Urqiihart is situ- ated, is one of the most beautiful of our Hi^-hland valleys, distant from Inverness some fourteen miles, and expands first from the waters of Loch-Ness into a semi-circular plain, divided into fields by hedge- rows, and havino; its hill-sides beautifully diversified by woods and cultivated grounds. The valley then runs upwards some ten miles to Corriemonie, through a tract of haugh-land beautifully cultivated, and leading to a rocky pass or gorge half-way upwards or thereabouts, which, on turning, an inland valley, as it were, is attained, almost circular, and contain- ing Loch-Meiglie, a beautiful small sheet of water, the edges of which are studded with houses, green lawns, and cultivated grounds. Over a heathy ridge beyond these, two or three miles, we reach the flat of Corriemonie, adorned by some very large ash and beech trees, where the land is highly cultivated, at an elevation of eiirht or nine hundred feet above, and twenty-five miles distant from, the sea. At the base of Mealfourvonie, a small circular lake, of a few acres in extent, exists, which was once thought to be unfathomable, and to have a subterranean cora- municati(ui with Loch-Ness. From it flows the AultsiLrh Burn, a streamlet which, tumbling down a rockv channel, at the base of one of the orandest Castle Urquhart 115 frontlets of rock in the Highlands, nearly fifteen hundred feet high, empties itself into Loch-Ness within three miles of Glenmoriston. Besides the magnificent and rocky scenery to be seen in the course of this burn, it displays, at its mouth, an un- usually beautiful waterfall, and another about two miles further up, shaded with foliage of the richest colour, A tributary of the Coiltie, called the Dhivach, amid beautiful and dense groves of birch, displays a waterfall as high and picturesque as that of Foyers; and near the source of the Enneric River, which flows from Corriemonie into the still waters of Loch- Meiglie,another small, though highly picturesque cas- cade, called the Fall of jMoval, is to be seen. Near it is a cave large enough to receive sixteen or twenty persons. Several of the principal gentlemen of the district concealed themselves here from the Han- overian ti'oops during the troubles of the '45. On the southern prtjuiontory of Urquhart Bay are the ruins of the Castle, rising over the dark waters of the Loch, which, otf this jjoiut, is I'lo fathoms in depth. The castle has the a])pearauce of having been a stronu- and extensive building. The mould- iu'^'s of the c jrbel table wliieh reniam are as shan> as on the day they were ni'st carved, and nidicate a date about the beginning of the 11th century. The antiquary will notice a peculiar arrangement in the wintiows, for pouring molten k-ad on the heads of the assailants. Ir, overhangs the lake, and is built on a detached rock se})arated from the adjoining hill, at the base of which it lies, b}^ a moat of about twenty- five feet deep and sixteen feet broad. The rock is crowned by the remains of a high wall oi- curtain, surrounding the building, the principal part of which, a strong square keep of three storeys, is still standing, surmounted b}'- four square hanging turrets. This outward wall encloses a spacious yard, and is in 116 Tales and Legends. some places terraced. In the angles were platforms for the convenience of the defending soldiery. The entrance was by a spacious gateway between two guard rooms, projected beyond the general line of the walls, and was guarded by more than one mas- sive portal and huge portcullis to make security doubly sure. These entrance towers were much in the style of architecture peculiar to the Castles of Edward I. of England, and in front of them lay the drawbridge across the outer moat. The whole works were extensive and strong, and the masonry was better finished than is common in the generality of Scottish strongholds. The first siege Urquhart Castle is known to have sustained was in the year 1303, when it was taken by the officers of Edward I. who were sent forward by him, to subdue the country, from Kildrummie, near Nairn, beyond which he did not advance in person, and of all the strongholds in the North, it was that which longest resisted his arms. Alexander de Bois, the brave governor, and his garrison, were put to the sword. Sir Robert Lauder of Quarrelwood, in Morayshire, governor of the Castle in A.D. 1332, maintained it against the Baliol faction. His daughter, marrying the Earl of Strathglass, the offspring of their union. Sir Robert Chisholm of that Ilk, became Laird of Quarrelwood in right of his grandfather. After this period it is known to have been a Royal fort or garrison ; but it is very likely it was so also at the commencement of the 14th century, and existed as such in the reigns of the Alexanders and other Scottish sovereigns, and formed one of a chain of fortresses erected for national de- fence, and for insuring internal peace. In 1359 the barony and the Castle of Urquhart were disponed by David II. to William, Earl of Sutherland, and his son John. In 1509 it fell into the hands of the Castle Urquhart 117 chief of the Clan Grant, and in that family's posses- sion it has continued to this day. How it came into the possession of John Grant, the 10th Laird, surnamed the ' Bard,' is not known; but it was not won by the broadsword, from Huntly, the Lieutenant-General of the King. It has been the boast of the chiefs of the Clan Grant that no dark deeds of rapine and blood have been transmitted to posterity by any of their race. Their history is unique among Highland clans, in that, down to the period of the disarming after CuUoden, the broad- swords of the Grants were as spotless as a lady's bodkin. True it is, there were some dark deeds enacted between the Grants of Carron and Ballin- dalloch, and at the battles of Cromdale and Culloden the Grants of Glenmoriston were present; but far otherwise was the boast of the Grants of Strathspey — a gifted ancestry seemed to transmit hereditary virtues, and each successive scion of the house seemed to emulate the peaceful habits of his prede- cessor. That this amiable life did not conceal craven hearts is abundantly evident from the history of our country. There is a continual record of gallant deeds and noble bearing in their records down to the present time, and there are few families whose names, like the Napiers and the Grants, are more conspicuous in our military annals. But their rise into a powerful clan was due to the more peaceful gifts, of 'fortunate alliances' and 'royal bounties.'' It is much to be reo-retted that so little has been transmitted to posterity of the history of this splen- did ruin of Castle Urquhart. The probability is that it is connected with many a dark event over which the turbulence of the inter- vening period and the obscurity of its situation have cast a shade of oblivion. The most prominent part of the present mass, the 118 Tales and Legends. fine square tower at the north-eastern extremity of the building, is supposed to have been the keep, and is still pretty entii'e. From thi.s point, the view is superb. It commands Loch-Ness from one end to the other, and is an object on which the traveller fixes an admiring gaze as the steamer paddles her merry way along the mountain-shadowed water. On a calm day the dashing echo of the Fall of Foyers bursts fitfully across the Loch, and when the meridian sun lights up the green earth after a midsummer shower, a glimj'se of the distant cataract may be occasionally caught, slipping like a gloriously spangled avalancljc to the dark depths below. The story in which the castle was the principal scene of action is quite characteristic of the times referred to. A gentleman of rank, who had been out with the Prince and had been wounded at Oulloden, found himself on the eveninix of that disastrous day on the banks of the River Farigaig, opposite Urquhai-t Castle. He had been helped so far by two faithful retainers, oiie of whom, a fox- hunter, was a native of the vale of Urquhart. This man, perceiving the gentleman was unable to proceed further, and seeing a boat moored to the shore, pro- posed that theyshould cross to the old Castle, in a vault of which, known oidy to a few of tlio country people, they might remain secure from all ])ursuit. The hint was readily complied with, and in less than a couple of hours they found themselves entombed in the ruins of Urquhart Castle, where sleep shortly over- powered them, and the sun was high in the heavens next day ere any of them awoke. The gentleman's wound having been partially dressed, the fox- hunter's comrade yawningly observed ' that a bit of something to eat would be a Godsend.' 'By my troth it would,' said the fox-hunter, ' and if my little Mary knew aught of poor Eoghainn Brocair's (Ewan Castle Urqulart 119~ the fox-hunter) plight, she would endeavour to re- lieve him though Sassenach bullets were flying about her ears.' ' By heaven ! our lurking-place is dis- covered !' whispered the gentleman, ' do you not ob- serve a shadow hovering about the entrance.' 'Tis the shadow of a friend,' replied the Br-ocair ; and in an instant a long-bodied, short-legged Highland terrior sprung into the vault. ' Craicean, a dhuine bhochd,' said the overjoyed fox-hunter, hugging the faithful animal to his bosom, ' this is the kindest visit 3^ou ever paid me.' As scon as the shades of evening had darkened their retreat, Eoghainn un- tied his garter, and binding it round the dog's neck, carressed him, and pointing up the Glen, bade him go and bring the Brocair some food. The poor terrier looked wistfully in his face, and with a shake of his tail, quietly took his departure. In about four hours 'Craicean' reappeared, and endeavoured by every imaginable sign to make Eoghainn follow him out- side. With this the Brocair complied, but in a few seconds he re-entered, accompanied by another per- son. Eoghainn having covered the only entrance to the cave with their plaids, struck a light and intro- duced to his astonished friends his betrothed, young Mary Maclauchlan. The poor girl had understood by the garter which bound the terrier's neck, and which she herself had woven, that her Eoghainn was in the neighbourhood, and hastened to his relief with all tho ready provisions she could procure; and not least, in the estimation of at least two of the fugitives, the feeling maiden had brought them a sip of unblemished whisky. In this manner they had been supplied with aliment for some time, when one night their fair visitor failed to come as usual. This, though it (-reated no immediate alarm, somewhat astonished them; but when the second night came and neither Mary nor her shaggy companion ap- 120 Tales and Legends. peared, Eoghainn's uneasiness on Mary's account overcame every other feeling, and, in spite of all re- monstrance, he ventured forth to ascertain the cause of her delay. The night was dark and squally, and Eoghainn was proceeding up his native glen like one v/ho felt that the very sound of his tread might be- tray him to death. With a beating heart he had walked upwards of two miles, when his ears were saluted with the distant report of a musket. Spring- ing aside, he concealed himself in a thicket which overhung the river. Here he remained but a very short time when he was joined by the Craicean drag- ging after him a cord several yards in length. This circumstance brought the cold sweat from the brow of the Brocair. He knew that their enemies were in pursuit of them, that the cord had been affixed to the dog's neck in order that he might lead to their place of concealment ; and alas ! Eoghainn feared much that his betrothed was at the mercy of his pursuers. What was to be done ? The moment was big with fate, but he Avas determined to meet it like a man. Cutting the cord and whispering to the terrier, " cul mo chois " (back of my heel) he again ventured to the road and moved warily on- ward. On arriving at an old wicker-wrought barn, he saw a light streaming from it, when creeping to- wards it, he observed a party of the enemy sur- rounding poor Mary Maclauchlan, who was, at the moment, undergoing a close examination by their officer. ' Come girl,' said he ' though that blind ras- cal has let your dog, who would certainly have introduced us to the rebels, escape, you will surely consult your own safety by guiding me to the spot ; nay, T know you will, here is my purse in token of my future friendship, and in order to conceal your share in the transaction you and I shall walk to- gether to a place where you may point me out the Castle Urqulmrt 121 lurking place of these fellows, and leave the rest to me ; and do you,' continued he, turning to his party, 'renoain all ready until you hear a whistle, when instantly make for the spot.' The Brocair crouched, as many a time he did, but never before did his heart beat at such a rate. As the officer and his passive guide took the road to the old Castle, Eoghainn followed close in their wake, and, when they had proceeded about a mile from the barn, they came upon the old hill road when Mary made a dead halt, as if quite at a loss how to act. ' Pro- ceed, girl,' thundered the officer, ' I care not one farthing for my own life, and if you do not instantly conduct me to the spot where the bloody rebels are concealed, this weapon,' drawing his sword, ' shall within two minutes penetrate your cunning heart.' The poor girl trembled and staggered as the officer pointed the sword at her bosom, when the voice of Eoghainn fell on his ear like the knell of death, ' Turn your weapon this way', brave sir, said the Brocair, ' Turn it this way,' and in a moment the officer and his shivered sword lav at his feet. ' Oh, for heaven's sake,' screamed the faintmg girl, ' meddle not with his life.' ' No, no, Mary ; I shall not dirty my hands in his blood. I have only given him the weight of my oak sapling, so that he may sleep soundly till we are safe from the fangs of his bloodhounds.' That very night the fugitives left Urquhart Castle and got safe to the forests of Bade- noch, where they skulked about with Lochiel and his few followers until the gentleman escaped to France, when Eoghainn Brocair and his companion ventured once more, as they themselves expressed it, ' to the communion of Christians,' The offspring of the Bro- cair and Mary Maclauchlan are still in Lochaber. 122 Talcs and Legends. THE FAIEIES AND DONALD DUAGHAL MAOKAY. Mankind in all ages have been prone to super- stitious beliefs and hero-worship. The most en- lightened nations of ancient or modern times have not been more exempt from them than the most ig- norant. The ancient Chaldeans, Babylonians, and Egyptians were grossly superstitious, believing in magic, omens, and dreams. The Jew^s possessing in- timate knowledge of a Supreme Being, universally ruling, were not free from similar practices acquired during their four hundred years contact with the Egyptians while sojourning on the banks of the ISile. The Greeks and Romans were not a whit better; they deified their heroes, put faith in oracles, divinations and dreams. They imagined that bees, ants, and various birds, beasts, and reptiles had the power of giving omens of good or bad fortune. They had gods celestial and gods terrestrial, and subterranean gods. The appearance of eclipses and comets were to them ominous of public disasters. The Scandinavians had their own fanciful mytho- logy, their Odens, their Thors, their Balders, their K lords, their Triggas, and their Treyas, and a vast dread of the Elfin, Dwarf, and Great tribes. The Anglo-Saxon, in common with the Scandinavian, !)e]i<:^vcd in these deities, and in others peculiar to the Goths. They had idols emblematical of the sun, moon, earth, and the various seasons. The Easter The Fairies and Donald Max-hi.y. 123 festivals of the Christian Church are supposed to have been derived from the name of the Anglo- Saxon goddess Eastre, to whom they made sacrilices in the month of April. The burning of the log of wood in December was a sacrifice to the sun, as an emblem of returning light, the dnys then beginning to lengthen ; and from this ancient practice may be traced the custom of burning the yule log at Christ- mas, a practice still common, 1 believe, in parts of England. They had also their beliefs in giants, elfs, and dwarfs, which haunted the fields, woods, moun- tains, rivers, and lakes, alike in character to the demi- gods and other imaginary spiiits of the Grecian and Roman superstitions; but worse still, to the Ano-Io-Saxon is ascribed the introduction to En£j- land and [Scotland of the moi-e dangerous doctrine of witchcraft and divinations, before which the reason- ing power of the people quailed, and all intellectual advancement was impeded. The Celts are credited with originating the fairy su])erstition, though it is unknown from what cause. In Scotland and other countries in which Celtic tra- ditions predominate, the fairies were regarded on the v/hole as little given to malevolence ; on the con- trary, ready to help mankind at times, though when offended they exhibited an admixture of the malig- nant spirit of the elf and the dwarf of the Scandin- avian, who introduced the belief in them to the Celts. Most spirits were supposed to have the attribute of enlaroino- or contractino; their bulk at will ; the iairy alone was regaided as essentially diminutive in size, the miniature of a human being, perfect in form, clad in pure green, brilliant and rich beyond conception, inhabiting subterranean palaces of indescribable splendour, and innumerable in num- bers. They were represented as continually feast- ing, dancing, and making merry, or moving in pro- 124 Tales and Legends. cession amongst the shady green grass and verdant lawns of earth, entertained with the most harmon- ious and melodious music that mortal ear ever listened to, observant of the doings of mankind, and not un- willing to help them to overcome such unusual or extraordinary difficulties, if called upon, as my story tells. Donald Duaghal having returned from the wars in Germany to his own country, where his fame preceded him, was a great hero, in the estimation of his retainers. His extraordinary valour, his feats of daring, his fearless conduct, his escaping com- paratively scathless of wounds out of all the skir- mishes, sieges, and battles in which he took a lead- ing share ; all this, magnified by the stories related of him by the few retainers who survived and re- turned home with him into the Reay country, threw around the man a halo of romance that gave rise to the belief that he must have had a charmed life, and, it might be, some occult relations with the 'Droch Spiorad' and the ' Black art' in his travels abroad. * Nach I'obh e san Edailt for an d'iunnsaich e an sgoil dubh V — Italy being the country above all others in which the ' black art ' was to be acquired. But Donald was never in Italy. It did not matter to Clann Mhic Aoidh. They did not trouble them- selves much about correct geography ; their chief was abroad; he might have been in Italy; and that was sufficient for the unsophisticated and unlettered people surrounding their beloved chief who had seen much in his travels and campaigns in Norway, Sweden, Germany, and Poland. He had crossed rivers and estuaries, and transported his soldiers over them by bridges of boats constructed by Swedish and Danish military engineers in very little time, even while his soldiers were taking a hasty meal, Donald himself urging on the work and The Fairies and Donald Maclxiy. 125 lending a hand — all this was related in Tongue, much to the astonishment of the natives around, who could not believe it. They could not under- stand how an estuary like the Kyle of Tongue could be bridged in half-an-hour. The feat was too marvellous to be true, and if true there must have been some supernatural assistance. But could he not do anything ? Did he not learn the ' black art' in Italy ? Rumour went and was magnified, till in the long run it was believed that nothing was im- possible to Donald. It was rumoured ^^at he in- tended to throw a bridge over the est^iiary from Tongue to Melness. This report got wings and was believed. The knowing ones were incredulous, but the credulous had no doubt he could and would do it. Has he not the ' black art ? ' besides, can he not send to the ' Cailleach Mhor ' in Dornoch ? get her to send him the fairies, and the bridge will be built before morning. This was so much talked about that it became a received opinion that Donald Duaghal was supposed to have actually attempted the feat. He sent his Gille to Dornoch to the Cail- leach requesting her as a special favour to send him fairies to construct a bridge across the Kyle of Tongue. The Cailleach Mhor consulted the fairy queen, and she, willing to do anything for so brave a man as Donald Duaghal, gave tlie Cailleach a box to be conveyed to Donald. The Cailleach gave the box to the Gille with strict and peremptory in- junctions not to open it till he had delivered it into his master's hands. Alas ! for weak humanity, always prying into secrets, always doing the for- bidden — the greater the restriction, the greater the temptation to disobey. In an unlucky moment, going over the Crask, he opened the box, when lo ! in an instant, around him and about him on all sides were myriads of tiny creatures, hammer in 126 Tales and Legends. hand, shrilly clamouring ' Obair, obair, obair ' (Work, work, wo7'k). Nonplused with the extraordinary sight, confounded for a moment with the effect of his disobedience of orders, Mackay's man was equal to the occasion. Rapidly recovering his presence of mind and appreciating his position, he ordered his importunate companions to set to work and pluck up the heather off the whole hillside upon which they were. No sooner ordered than it was done, and the same clamour was r-esnmed of ' Obair, obair, obair.' Driven by this almost to desperation he ordared^Jiis little companions to fly away to Dor- noch F7rth opposite Tain, and there build a bridge for the accommodation of the lieges of Dornoch and Eaile Dhuthaich. Instantly they went, and com- menced operations, throwing up the sand in clouds to form an embankment, but as ill-luck would have it, some person passing the Vv'ay about cock-crowing time, hearing the noise and uproar exclaimed ' Dhia beannaich mis, ciod e an obair tlia'n so' (God bless me, what work is this). Work was instantly .sus- pended never to bo resumed, in consequence of God's name being mentioned, and a blessinn; asked on the work; ard well would it have been, had it never been onmijnced, for the sand accumulated by the fairies in tliat night's woi'k forms the dan- gerous shoals between Dornoch and Tain to this day, the sea roarincr over them at every tide, and the noise of the waves heard at the distance of many a mile, portends to the natives the advent of foul weather. To this day the ])lace is called Drochaid iia h'Ao'ih, ur the Ellin Brid'^e. It is lamentable to contemplate how such vain imaginations as these should have so lonj; weiofhed upon the intelligence and percejition of the people; bnt it may be asked, were they not fostered in a great measure after the introduction of Christianity? The Fairies and Donald Mackay. 127 when, through persecution, religion assumed the garb of gloom and fanaticism, when belief in the pei'sonal appearance of the devil was universal, and continued till within recent years in the vulgar mind ? Ignorance is justly termed th^ mother of super- stition. Wherever mankind are least accustomed to trace events to natural causes superstitious notions flourish most luxuriantly. When the mind once allows that matters of ordinary and natural occurrence may take place by the interference of the supernatural, there is obviously no limit to the actions they are supposed to perform. In the present age of compara- tive intelligence it is difficult to comprehemi how human beings could be so deplorably ignorant of natural causes and effects as to entertain for a moment such gross notions of the supernatural, and yet, in this nineteenth century, we can observe similar forces at work even in the most respectable ranks of society — Mormonism, Southcotism, spirit- rapping, table-turning. The Saxon of modern days has more superstitious notions in his composition than the Celt, notwithstanding his boastful supe- riority and pride in being more enlightened and freer from prejudice than any other. He calls his superstitious ' customs/ and so reconciles himself to them. Does he like to sit down the thirteenth person at the table or festive board ? Does he be- lieve in lucky and unlucky days ? Does he believe in the appearance, as a good or evil omen, of two or three magpies when setting out upon a journey ? Does he like a hare to cross his path ? or the upset- ting of salt on the table ? the howling: of doo:s, the cracking of furniture, the tickling noise of an insect in old furniture, the putting on the left shoe first ? When he relinquishes these he may hurl his stone of scorn at the Celt for his belief in the Sithichean. 12S Tales and Legends. YOUNa GLENGAEEY, THE BLACK EAVEN Once upon a time Old Glengarry was very un- popular with all the northern chiefs, in consequence of his many raids and creachs among the surround- ing ^Tribes, but although he was now advanced in years and unable to lead his clan in person, none of the neighboui'ing chiefs could muster courage to beard him in his den single-handed. There was never much love lost between him and the chief of the Mackenzies, and about this time some special offence was given to the latter by the Macdonells, which the chief of Eileandonan swore would have to be revenged ; and the insult must be wiped out at whatever cost. His clan was at that time very much subdivided, and he felt himself quite unable to cope with Glengarry in arms, Mackenzie, how- ever, far excelled his enemy in ready invention, and possessed a degree of subtlety which usually more than made up for his enemy's superior physical power. ' Kintail ' managed to impress his neighbouring chiefs with the belief that Glengarry proposed, and was making arrangements, to take them all by sur- prise and annihilate them by one fell swoop, and that in these circumstances it was imperative, for their mutual safety, to make arrangements forth- with by which the danger would be obviated and the hateful author of such a diabolical scheme ex- tinguished root and branch. By this means he The Black Raven. 129 managed to produce the most bitter prejudice against Glengarry and his clan; but all of them being convinced of the folly and futility of meeting the ' Black Raven,' as he was called, man to man and clan to clan, Mackenzie invited them to meet him at a great council in Eileandonan Castle, the following week, to discuss the best means of protect- ing their mutual interests, and to enter into a solemn league, and swear on the ' raven's cross ' to exterminate the hated Glengarry and his race, and to raze, burn, and plunder everything belonging to them. Old Glengarry, whom the ravages of war had already reduced to one son out of several, and he only a youth of immature years, heard of the con- federacy formed against him with great and serious concern. He well knew the impossibility of hold- ing out against the combined influence and power of the Western Chiefs. His whole affections were concentrated on his only surviving son, and on real- izing the common danger, he bedewed him with tears, and strongly urged upon him the dire neces- sity of fleeing from the land of his fathers to some foreign land until the danger had passed away. He, at the same time, called his clan together, ab- solved them from their allegiance, and implored them also to save themselves by flight; and to their honour be it said, one and all spurned the idea of leaving their chief in his old age alone to his fate, exclaiming — 'that death itself was pre- ferable to shame and dishonour.' To the surprise of all, however, the son, dressed in his best garb, and armed to the teeth, after taking a formal and affectionate farewell of his father, took to the hills amidst the contemptuous sneers of his brave re- tainers. But he was no sooner out of sight than he directed his course to Lochduich, determined to I 130 Tales and Legends. attend the great council at Eileandonan Castle, at which his father's fate was to be sealed. He arrived in the disti'ict on the appointed day, and carefully habilitating himself in a tine Mackenzie tartan plaid, with which he had provided himself, he made for the stronghold and ])assed the outer gate with the usual salutation — ' Who is welcome here ? ' and passed by unheeded, the guard replying in the most unsuspicious manner — ' Any, any but a MacdonelL' On being admitted to tlie great hall he carefully scanned the brilliant assembly. The Mackenzie plaid had put the company completely off their guard; for in those days no one would ever dream of wear- ing; the tartan of anv but that of his own leader. The chiefs had already, as the}' entered the great hall, drawn their dirks and stuck them in the tables before them as an earnest of their unswervino- re- solution to rid the world of their hated enemy. The brave and intre|)id stranger cooly walked up to the head of the table, where the Chief of Kintail pre- sided over the great council, threw off his disguise, seized Mackenzie by the throat, drew out his glit- tering dagger, held it against his enemy's henrt, and exclaimed with a voice and a determination which struck terror into everj^ breast^ — ' Mackenzie, if you or any of your assembled guests make the slightest movement, as I live, by the great Creator of the universe, I will instantly pierce you to the heart.' Mackenzie well knew by the appearance of the youth, and the commanding tone of his voice, that the threat would be instantly executed if any move- ment was made, and he tremulously exclaimed — 'My friends, for the love of God, stir not, lest I perish at the hands of my inveterate foe at my own table.' The appeal was hardly necessary, for all were terror- stricken and confused, sitting with open mouths, gazing vacantly, at each other. ' Now,' said the young The Black Raven. 131 hei'o, ' lift u}3 your hands to heaven and swear by the Long, am Bradan, agus an Lamh Dhearg (the shiji, the sahnon, and the bloody hand), that you will never again molest my father or an}' of his clan.' ' I do now swear as you request ' answered the confused chief. ' Swear now,' continued the dauntless youth, ' you, and all ye round this table, that I will depart from here and be permitted to go home unmolested l^y you or any of your retainers.' All, with uplifted hands, repeated the oath. Young Glengarry released his hold on Mackenzie's throat sheathed his dirk and prepared to take his de- parture, but was, curious to relate, prevailed upon to remain at the feast and spend the night with the sworn enemies of his race and kindred, and the following morning they parted the best of friends. And thus, by the daring of a stripling, was Glengarry saved the fearful doom that awaited him. The youth ultimately became famous as one of the most couraojeous warriors of his race. He fought many a single combat with powerful com- batants, and invariably came off victorious. He in- vaded and laid waste Glenmoriston, Urquhart, and Caithness. His life had been one scene of varied havoc, victory, ruin, and bloodshed. He entered into a fierce encounter with one of the Munros of Fowlis, but ultimately met the same fate at the hands of the 'prim tvrant' as the greatest coward in the land, and his body lies buiicd in the chuich- yard of Tuiteam-tarbhach. 132 Tales and Legends. OAWDOE CASTLE. On the banks of a Highland burn, which falls into the River Nairn some five miles from the town of Nairn, and fifteen from Inverness, stands Castle Cawdor, perhaps the best specimen extant of the baronial castle of the olden time. Its central tower is the oldest portion of the structure. On its east side, commanded by loop holes, is a small court, through which the visitor is ushered by an old drawbridge across a moat. The draw- bridge, raised by chains attached to beams rest- ing on the court wall, gives ingress through gate- ways secured by wooden bars. The staircase, the iron gate— brought from Lochindorb--the great baronial kitchen, partly hewn out of the rock, the massive tower walls, the ample stone mantlepieces, carved with quaint devices, the old furniture, and particularly the old mirrors and tapestry, carry one back many a long year into the social life of the past. Of the building of the castle there is a tradi- tionary tale. In the dungeon of the castle there is the stem of a hawthorn tree, and tradition says that the noble builder was decided as to the position of his intended home by turning adrift an ass loaded with a chest full of gold, and noting the spot on which the animal rested, which was the third haw- thorn tree from which he started. That tree is still in the dungeon, the chest itself is a part of the castle relics, and when friends wish prosperity to the family, they do so in the words ' Freshness to Caivdor Castle. 133 the hawthorn tree of Cawdor.' The tapestry on the walls was purchased in Arras in 1682, and brought by ship from Bruges to Dysart and Leith, and thence to Findhorn. It is curious to note that one of the grotesque figures on the mantlepiece, dated 1510, is that of a fox smoking, and that, too, a veri- table cutty pipe, while the introduction of tobacco by Sir Walter Raleigh did not occur till 1585, After the battle of Culloden, the famous Lord Lovat was concealed in the roof of the castle, but finding his enemies becoming too numerous within the building, he let himself down over the wall by a rope, when he escaped, only to be taken in a hollow tree in an island (in Loch-Morar), was thereafter carried to London, tried, condemned, and beheaded on Tower Hill, on the 9th of April 1747, in the 80th year of his age. Shakspeare's imperishable tragedy of Macbeth, founded upon a fictitious narrative which Hol- linshed copied from Boece, has immortalized the name of Cawdor. Local tradition insisted on show- ing, until lately, the room in which the grooms were laid — " Those of his chamber, as it seem'd had done't Their hands and faces were all badged with blood, So were their daggers, which unwiped we found Upon their piUows." The very blood-marks upon the wood work were also shown as evidence of Duncan's assassination by Macbeth, and this, too, in the face of the fact that the licence was granted by James 11. to erect the tower in which the tragedy was supposed to have taken place. The myth has now disappeared locally, a fire having taken place a few years ago, which de- stroyed the woodwork. 134 Tales and Legends. It is now an accredited piece of history that neither in Cawdor nor in Macbeth's Castle of Inverness, which once stood on the height called the Crown, but at Bothgowanan, near Elgin, the tragedy was accomplished. Macbeth by birth was Maormor of Ross, and — through his marriage with Lady Gruoch, grand-daughter of Kenneth — the fourth Thane of Cawdor. Her grandfather had been dethroned by Malcolm the (Second, who also burned her first husband, murdered her brother, and slew the father of Macbeth. AH these wrongs were avenged on Duncan, the grandson of Malcolm, whose presence in this part of the country was in order to compel his cousin, who had revolted, to pay tribute. The castle was built by William, Thane of Caw- dor, whose son, John, married Isabel Rose, the daughter of Hugh Rose of Kilravoclc. This John was a second son, and on him and his heirs was entailed the estate, because his elder brother, William, was lame, and inclined to enter the Church. John died in 1498, leaving tvro daughters, Janet and Muriel, born after his death. Janet died while an infant, and Muriel succeeded to the estate in virtue of the above-mentioned entail. The Laird of Kilravock designed the heiress for her own cousin, his grandson, but having joined with Mack- intosh in a foray in the lands of Urquhart of Cromarty, he was pursued in a criminal process for robbery. Argyle, the then Justice General and Second Earl, had also his intentions regarding Muriel, and having made matters easy for Kilra- vock, in the matter of the law proceedings, induced the King, with her grandfather's consent, to award her in marriage to whomsoever he pleased. Under pretence of sending the child to school, Campbell of Inverlivei-, in 1499, was sent with a Cawdor Castle. lo5 party of sixty men to Kih-avock to convey the child to Inveraray to be educated there in the family of Argyle. The old lady of Kilravock, who did not quite ap])ruve of this mode of disposing of the hand of her grandchild, to which the pretended education tendedj took good care to prevent the child being changed, a common trick of the times, by marking- her on the hip with the key of her coffer, made red hot. That thei-e was a necessity for this, may be imagined from the reply of Campbell of Auchin- beck, who, when asked what was to be done should the child die before she was marriageable. ' She can never die,' said he, ' as long as a red-haired lassie can be found on either side of Loch-Awe.' The child was, however, delivered to Campbell of Inver- liver and his escort, but on arriving at Daltulich, in Strathnairn, he became aware that he was pursued b}" Alexander and Hugh Calder, the uncles of Muriel, who by no means agreed to the proceeding. Inverliver fjiced about, with the largest portion of his party, to receive the Calders, and, to deceive them, kept one of his men in the rear, having a sheaf of oats wrapped in a plaid, as if it were the child, who, however, had been previously sent off with a smaller escort under charge of one of his sons, with strict instructions to proceed to Argyle's castle with all speed. The conflict was a severe one, and many fell on both sides. It is said that in the heat of the skir- mish, in his extremity, Inverliver gave utterance to the saying which has since passed into a proverb, ' 'S fada glaodh o Loch Ou', 's fada cabhair o' Clann Dhuine' ('Tis a far cry to Loch Awe, and a distant help to Clan Duine), signifying immediate danger and distant relief. When Macliver imagined she was safe, and at a considerable distance, he re- 136 Tales and Legends. treated, and. following her, conducted her to Inver- aray, where she was educated, and, in 1510, married to Sir John Campbell, the third son of the Earl of Argyle. For his conduct in the affair, Macliver was rewarded by a gift of the twenty pound land of Inverliver. It was a sister of this Sir John Campbell who married Maclean of Duart, and who was ex- posed on a low rock between the islands of Mull and Lismore, that she might be drowned by the rising tide. The rock is still known by the name of the Lady's Rock. From this perilous situation she was rescued by a boat accidentally passing, and conveyed to her brother's house. Her relations, although much exasperated, smothered their resent- ment for a time, but only to break out afterwards with greater violence. Maclean of Duart, happen- ing to be in Edinburgh, was surprised when in bed, and assassinated by Muriel's husband. Sir John Campbell died in 1546, but Muriel survived him until 1575. A Legend of Invcrshin. 137 A LEGEND OF INVEESHIN. Long ages ago there stood in the vicinity of Invershin a strong massive castle, built and in- habited by a foreign knight — a stern, liaughty man — of whose antecedents nothing could be learned with certainty, although there were plenty of rumours concerning him ; the most generally re- ceived one being that he had fled from his own country on account of treason, or some other crime. Be that as it may, he had plenty of wealth, built a splendid castle, and kept a great number of retainers. He was extremely fond of fishing, and spent the greater part of his time in the pui-suit of the gentle craft. He invented a peculiar kind of cruive, so ingeniously constructed that the salmon on entering it set in motion some springs to which bells were attached: thus they literally tolled their own funeral knell. He was accompanied in his exile by his daughter Bona, and his niece Oykel, both alike beautiful in face and figure, but very dissimilar in disposition. Bona was a fair, gentle being, who seemed formed to love and be loved. Oj^kel was a dark beauty, handsome, proud, and vindictive. Among their numerous household there was one who, without being a relative, seemed on terms of intimacy and equality. He was called Prince Shin of Norway, and was supposed to have retired to this northern part of the kingdom for the same reason as his host. He was young, handsome, and brave, and, as a matter of course, the two young ladies fell lo8 Tales and Legends. violently in love witli him. For a while he wavered between the two, but at last he fixed his affections upon the gentle Bona, and sought her hand in marriage. The old knight gave his consent, and the future looked hright and full of happiness for the young lovers. The proud Oykel was deeply mortified at the prince for choosing her cousin in preference to her- self, and the daily sight of their mutual attachment drove her into a perfect frenzy of jealousy and wounded pride, until at length nothing would satisfy her but the death of her rival. She accord- ingly bribed one of her uncle's unscrupulous re- tainers to murder her cousin Bona, vainly hoping tliat in time the prince would transfer his love to herself. The ruffian carried out his cruel order, and concealed the body in a disused dungeon of the castle. Great was the consternation and dismay caused by the sudden and mysterious disappearance of the lovely Bona; hill and dale, mountain and strath, corrie and burn, were searched in vain ; river and loch were dragged to no purpose. Prince Shin was inconsolable ; he exerted himself to the utmost in the fruitless search, then, wearied in mind and body, he wandered listless and sad through the llowery fields of Inveran until he reached the birchen groves of Achany, the quiet solitude of which suited better his desolate state. Here, with no prying eyes to see his misery, nor babbling tongues to repeat his sighs and exclamations, he gave himself up for a while to the luxury of grief. Then arose in the breast of the father the agonizing suspicion of foul j.la}'; but upon whom could his suspicions fall? Who could have the slightest reason or incentive to injure the kind and gentle Bona? He pondered and mused in gloomy solitude until the terrible A Legend of Invershin. 139 idea grew in his mind that it must have been her lover and affianced husband who had thus so cruelly betrayed her trustful love. ' Yes,' he muttered, 'it must be Prince Shin who has commitied this diabolical crime; he has tired of her, and took this way to release himself from his solemn contract with her and me, but the villain shall not escape ; his punishment shall be as sudden and as great as his crime.' Having thus settled his conviction of the Prince's guilt, he caused him to be seized during the night, and thrown into the same dungeon in which, un- known to him, lay the body of his beloved daughter. The accusation and his seizure was so sudden and unexpected, that for a time Shin lay in his dungeon totally overwhelmed with grief and indignation- grief at the loss of his bride, and indignation at the suspicion and treatment of himself. He was at length aroused and startled by hearing a faint moan somewhere near him, as if from some one in great pain. He strained his eyes to pierce the gloomy darkness that surrounded him ; at last, guided by the sound being repeated, he discovered at the other end of the dungeon a recumbent fio-ure, so still and motionless, that it might have been lifeless, but for the occasional faint, unconscious moan. 'Alas'.' exclaimed he, ' this is another victim of treacherv and cruelty, who is even worse off than I, but who can it be ? I have missed no one from the castle, except my adored and lamented Bona.' While thus speaking, he knelt down to examine the figure more closely, and as he began to get used to the gloom, he could see a little better, when to his inexpressible horror, dismay, and astonishment, he discovered it to be no other than his lost bride, whose young life was fast ebbing away through a frightful stab in her snow-white bosom. 140 Tales and Legends. Nearly frantic with grief, he strove with tremb- ling hand to staunch the blood and bind up the wound, at the same time calling her by every en- dearing name that love could suggest. Again and again he kissed her cold lips, and pressed her tenderly to his heart, trying in vain to infuse life and warmth to the inanimate form of her he loved so well. He was interrupted in his melancholy task by the heavy door of the dungeon creaking on its rusty hinges, as it slowly opened to admit a man-at- arms, whom Shin recognised as one of the foreign retainers of the old kuight. ' Ah ! Randolph, is it thou they have sent to murder me ? Well, do thy work quickly, death has lost its terrors for me, now that it has seized on my Bona; but yet I would that another hand than thine should strike the fatal blow, for I remember, tho' perhaps thou forgettest, the day when stricken down in the battle-field thou wert a dead man, had not I interposed my shield, and saved thy life at the risk of my own.' So saying, he looked the man calmly but sadly in the face. Randolph had, on first entering, seemed thunder- struck at seeing the prince, and looked, during the delivery of his speech, more like a victim than an executioner ; he changed colour, trembled, and finally, throwing himself at the feet of the prince, faltered out with broken voice, 'Oh! my lord; in- deed, indeed, you do me wrong. I knew not that you were here; never would I raise an arm to injure you, my benefactor, my preserver? No, I came to — to .' Then glancing from the prince to the lady Bona, he hid his face in his hands and groaned out, ' I knew not you loved her, or I would rather have died than .' A sudden light broke in on the mind of Shin, he sprang like a tiger at the trembling man, and seiz- A Legend of Invcrsliin. 141 ing him by the throat, thundered out, ' Accursed villain, is it thou who hast done this foul deed ? thy life shall be the forfeit.' Then changing his mind, he loosened his deadly grasp, and flinging the man from him as though he were a dog, muttered between his close-set-teeth, ' I will not soil my hands with the blood of such a dastard, he is only the base tool of another.' Then raising his voice, he continued, ' Tell me, thou double-dyed traitor, who set thee on to do this most horrible deed ? and for what reason ? See that thou tellest me the truth, villain, or by the bones of my father, I will dash thy brains out on the stones beneath our feet. The trembling Randolph then explained how he, being absent from the castle on a foraging expedi- tion, knew nothino; of the betrothal of Prince Shin and the lady Bona, that on his return he was sent for by Oykel, who, in a private interview, told him she was engaged to the prince, and that Bona, through jealous}^, was trying all she could to set the old knight against Shin, and had even laid a plot to poison both her and the prince, and that he (Randolph), believing this specious story, and being greatly attached to the prince, was easih^ prevailed upon by Oykel to murder her cousin ; that he had temporarily hidden her body in the dungeon, and was now come to remove it, and was astonished and horrified to find she was still alive. He then went on to say, that he thought he saw a way to undo some of the mischief he had been the means of doing, and that was to assist Shin to escape, and to carry the lady Bona to a place of safety, until it was seen whether she would recover, and what turn afiairs might take at the castle. The prince gladly availed himself of his assistance. They made their escape, and remained in concealment for some time until Bona had somewhat recovered her strength. 142 Tales and Legends. In the meantime Oykel, driven to distraction at the disappearance of Shin, seeing the utter fruitless- ness of her crime, stung by remorse, and rendered reckless by the ]3angs of unrequited h)ve, threw herself into the river, which has ever since been called by her name, and which, it is said, is still haunted by her rc-^tless, weary spiiit. Bona is com- memorated in Bonar. Prince Shin and Bona now came from their con- ccahnent, and being luUy reconciled to the old knight, were mai-ried with great pomp, and shortly afterwards sailed away to Norway, where they lived long and died happy. The Bonnie Earl of Moray. 143 THE EONMIE EAEL OF MOSAY- The Monadh-liath inouutains are an elono-ated group of lofty an