THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES OF WANDERINGS HIGHLANDS OF BANFF AND ABERDEEN SHIRES. WANDERINGS HIGHLANDS OF BANFF AND ABERDEEN SHIRES: WITH TRIFLES IN VERSE. BY J. (I. PHILLIPS. " Away, ye yay landscapes, ye gardens of roses, In you let the minions of luxury rove ; Restore me the rocks where the snowflake reposes, For still are they sacred to freedom and lovu." Bvitox. BANFF : FEINTED AT THE BANFFSHIKE JOURNAL OFFICE. 1881, DA CONTENTS. -p b TOMINTOUL, I.NCUKOKV, AND TIM'. ( lu AMPIANS, . . 9 STRATIIAVEN AND FERGAN \YEI.L, ... 17 THE BRAES OK CONGI.ASS, . . . . 23 GLENBUCKET, STRATHDON, AND GLENNOCHTY, . . 28 CORGARFF AND STKATHDON, . . . . -35 Gl.ENSUIE, Bl.ACKWATER, AM) LOWER C'ABRAi:H, . 54 UPPER CABRACII, . . . . . -59 GLENRINNES : ITS ARCHEOLOGY AND AGRICULTURE, . 68 THE BRAES OF GLENLIVET SIXTY YEARS AGO, . . 75 PRESENT BRAES OF GLENLIVET, .... 83 OLD COLLEGE OK SCAI.AN, BRAES OF GLENI.IVET, . . 88 INVERAVEN AND LOWER GLENLIVET, 95 THE MOSSES OK GLENI.IVET, . . . . . m POETRY. LAND OF THK BRAVE, . . . . . .119 DREAMING, ...... 120 IN MEMORY OK BELLA. . . . . .121 A RETROSPECT, . . . . . . 123 To ANNIE, ....... 124 BLIGHTED HOPE. ...... 125 FORSAKEN, . . . . . . .126 AN ODE TO NATURE, ..... 127 AN ADDRESS TO THE WIND, ..... 120 A DREAM, . . . . . . . 130 LINES TO A LADY, ...... 132 MOURNING, ...... 134 AN APPEAL, . . . . . . 135 To THE RISING SUN, . . . . 137 Two MEETINGS, . . . . . .138 PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. .... 140 To Li /./.IE, ....... 142 THK FLOWER OF FIDDOCHSIDK, .... 143 A BATTLE FIELD, ...... 144 LIKE, ....... 145 884725 ? R E F A C HE Wanderings which form the greater part <>t this volume have all, with one exception, appeared at different periods during the past six years in the newspaper press. They were fairly well received by the public when read separately, which encourages the hope that they will be equally fortunate when presented in the present form. When first written, I had no idea whatever of forming a collection. The walks were undertaken for plea- sure and recreation, and to make an acquaintance with the districts. [ tried to describe their physical features, their modes of agriculture, and anything else that came under my observation, as faithfully as possible. In this work I have strictly adhered to the original, only making an alteration or correction where deemed necessary. Therefore, if it lias no other merit, it may be relied upon as a guide. Taking the Braes of Glenlivet as a centre, all the surrounding districts have been personally visited, and by roads but little known to the outsider. With regard to the Verses, I can say but little. They have all appeared in the newspapers at some time. I have chosen, from a good number of pieces, those that I considered the best. In this I do not know that I have been successful. It is not always the case that one is a good judge of one's own efforts. In conclusion, I beg to offer my sincere thanks to all who have helped me in any way. To the Editors of the " Banffshire Journal " and the " Elgin Courant " those thanks are especially due, it being through their kindness that I have been allowed to reprint the papers. To my Subscribers I am also very grateful, and I fondly hope that the perusal of my Wanderings and Verses may give them pleasure, if not profit. J. G. PHILLIPS. BIIAKS or DA tv in the TOMINTOUL, INCHRORY, AND THE GRAMPIANS. 'HE sun was glinting over the stormy Kyma, and the dews of night lay thick on the heather, as we ascended Glachcan on our way to Tomintoul. We had long wished to have a closer view of Scotland's Alps than could be obtained from the Braes of Glenlivet, but the weather prevented us. This morning, however, was calm and lovely. The fields were bright green, the hills dark brown, and the great dome of heaven a cloudless blue. Rapidly, and in the best of spirits, we moved along the shoulder of Glachcan, inclining downwards to dark Faemus- sach ; passed between Blairwick and Inchnacape, and at length reached the high road that leads to the capital of the Banffshire Highlands. Another half-hour and we passed Auchriachan, where the waters of the Conglass rush past at headlong speed, anxious, as it were, to shake hands with the amber Aven. A few minutes more and we reached the first stage of our journey Tomintoul. It has been the pleasure of some writers lately to paint Tomintoul black, simply, we imagine, because some one else did it before them. It is true that Tomintoul cannot boast of marble palaces, smiling gardens, or brilliant equipages ; 10 but it is likewise true that it is not cursed with houses of a less agreeable and romantic character. If the village of Tomintoul is not an Eden, it is within easy reach of some of the wildest and grandest scenes in Scotland. Where in the Northern Highlands can a sweeter or more romantic spot be found than Delnabo ? Crossing the Aven about a mile from Tomintoul, you move along the beautiful haugh, and in a few minutes reach the sequestered nook where the houses of Delnabo lie nestled. Immediately behind the steading rises a great black hill, with but little on it to attract the eye ; but, turning to the left, an abrupt knoll is seen with a narrow steep pathway winding round it. Ascend the pathway and you are among the crags of Alniack crags famous for their height and wild sterility. The stream Alniack in the course of ages has cut a channel through the red rock of at least a hundred feet, and the gorge is so narrow and perpendicular that it makes the head giddy and the flesh creep to peer over the brink of the fearful abyss. Move on towards the Gram- pians, and the scene gets wilder and more terrific. Great masses of rock are seen standing alone, like sentinels guard- ing the approach, and warning the stranger back from scru- tinising too closely the secrets of that wild scene. These fantastic peaks of rock are trappean, and belong to the meta- morphic system. The crags of Alniack are, however, but one of the many interesting and romantic scenes near Tomin- toul, and we would advise the keen-eyed writers who visit it to take a look of the surroundings of the village ere they give vent to their critical powers. The people of Tomintoul are quick and intelligent, and bear a strong love for their Highland home. There is one feeling among them, however, which we would like to see changed. It is that many of the young people are inclined to let the language of their fore- fathers sink into oblivion. We do not understand this feel- ing. There is much in the mountain tongue that merits cultivation. It is the language that Ossian sung in, and many other bards whose names are now lost in the mists of time. We do hope that this ancient language, which ought to be dear to every Scottish heart, will not be driven from its last stronghold in Banffshire. After reaching Tomintoul, we joined four companions, 11 one of whom had a vehicle in waiting ready to start with us for Loch Bnilg. Seated in it, with a plentiful supply of provisions, we rolled swiftly away, and soon left Tomintoul behind us. Wheeling round a turn in the road, we came in sight of Delnabo, described above. Though close on the banks of the Aven, it belongs to the Seafield estates, and is tenanted by Major Smith, Minmore, who also possesses Lynchork, near by, and the adjoining grazings, extending in all to about 10,000 acres, of which he is also the shooting tenant. Quickly Delnabo fades from our view, and we are skimming along towards Delavorar. The road at this point is very dangerous for vehicles. It runs along a steep bank over- looking the Aven, and is very narrow. It has apparently been hewn out of the rock composing the breast of the hill. At one part, as we approach Delavorar, it makes a sudden wheel, turning nearly at right angles, when the slightest restiveness on the part of the horse would be attended with the most disastrous consequences. But our driver knew his work, and we were driven along the dangerous pathway in the most perfect confidence. The heights on the west side of the Aven are very beautiful. The natural birches, which give them a picturesque appearance, were in full plumage, if we may so speak, and from their recesses were piped forth the songs of the thrush and blackbird, while the weird-like notes of the cushat dove had the effect of making one feel that they were alone with nature. Delavorar, lovely Delavorar, is without doubt the best situated farm 011 the upper reaches of the Aven. It stands on a level plain mid-way between the Aven and the birch- clad braes behind it. Nature has left nothing undone that could lend enchantment to this sweet spot. The cultivated land stretches along the west side of the Aven on either hand, and is as smooth and level as a bowling green, while the rich pasture lands, sheltered by the natural woods, combine to make it one of the most desirable farms that the heart of man could wish. We do rot envy Mr Gordon for his beautiful retreat, for there is no one more capable of appreciating and enjoying the splendours of a Highland home, but we must say that we would have gladly crossed the fine suspension bridge which spans the Aven in front of the 12 house, and taken up our abode, disposed to live at peace with all men. But we could linger no longer. The whip was again applied, and we dashed on to witness new scenes in the course of this romantic river. We had nearly for- gotten, however, to mention a fact which may be interesting to not a few. Delavorar, i.e., Lordshaugh, was once a camping ground to the gallant and chivalrous James, Marquis of Montrose, in one of his rapid marches through the Highlands. We passed Auchnahyle on the right bank of the Aven, and another small farm whose name we did not learn. At Gaulrigg, on the opposite side of the Aven, lived for many years the far-famed warlock, Grigor Willox M'Grigor, who through the instrumentality of a stone obtained from a mermaid, and a bridle once the property of a water kelpie, was for long believed by the simple country people to possess wonderful powers in the cure of disease. Happily these delusions are now almost obsolete in this part of the country. The strath now began to get narrower and more gorge-like. The birches on the hills were getting more scattered and thin, and the hills themselves were becoming more rugged and barren. We passed Torbain, Delestie, and Delachael on the west bank, and were free from the trammels of civilization, with the exception of gamekeepers' houses with their patches of cultivation. There is something grand and spirit-inspiring in being alone amid the wild and rugged mountains of the north. There is a strange feeling of liberty and freedom in being far away from the din and bustle of the busy town, and alone with nature and nature's God. There is a feeling of awe which no man can describe in gazing on the giant mountains with their hoary precipices that have braved the blasts of ages, and we are forced to exclaim in admiration, " Wonderful are Thy works," ad we were traversing winds along in the same direction. Nothing peculiar in the scenery strikes the eye for a considerable distance down. The strath is narrow, and the hills almost bare, but they gradually assumed a different appearance as we advanced. Fine fir woods are nodding and waving on their breasts, and sometimes their ancient tops are crowned with them. Beautiful little cottages are peeping out here and there along the left side of the road. In fact, every sheltered nook has its cottage, and the inhabitants are all anxious to oblige strangers in any way, and are very hospitable. Onward another mile, and we passed a rather remarkable looking house. It had a sort of aristocratic air about it, and yet it seemed to be a farmer's house. Making inquiry, we learned that it was the mansion- house of Skellater, an old Lairdship, now belonging to the Newe family. Leaving Skellater, we proceeded slowly on for about a quarter of a mile, surveying the splendid scene that spread out before us. The road winds along the base of a beautifully wooded hill, and on the opposite side, another rises to about an equal height, while to make the scene complete, the Don sweeps majestically through the pass between them, wheeling away to the right. It was so beautiful here that we lingered long, gazing at the dark green woods, echoing with the mournful and weird-like notes of the cushat dove, that resounded from different quarters. Then we moved onwards, each individual occupied with his own thoughts and imaginations. These thoughts were lofty and pure, for who can look upon the face of nature in all her wild sublimity without feeling how poor and insignifi- cant a creature man is, and without a feeling of awe and admiration for the Almighty One, who commanded countless worlds revolving in space to exist. Talk not to me of man's great achievements in science, in art, and in literature. I say that the meanest spring that rises from the bowels of the earth is beyond his comprehension and his power. 45 Talk of his art. Why, he cannot mutch the wild bee's nest ; and his literature, that river rolling pasD could tell us more than all the volumes that have been written from Moses down to the present day. But I am digressing. Wheeling round the foot of the hill, we marched on at a good pace, for it was now about three o'clock, and we had nearly 20 miles to walk yet. We passed Louacli Hill on our left, with another cairn to John Forbes. A little further, and we reached Lonach Inn, or Lonach Lodge as it is called, a beautiful little house in the centre of a grove of firs. It must be free from the shouts of the bacchanal, for in it only porter and ales are sold. We entered, and turning to the left, immedi- ately found ourselves in a capital room, the walls of which were tastefully hung with pictures. We could not help admiring the order and precision of every article in the room. It had an air of comfort and snugness about it, which few country inns can boast of. To add to our pleasure, the people were extremely kind and courteous. Leaving Lonacli Inn, we once more started forward. We passed, on both sides of the road, several standing stones, popularly known as Druidical Stones. The antiquary, however, more properly calls them Monumental Stones, raised in pre-historic times, as a mark of affection, or as a memorial of some great deed. A little beyond this, and the turrets of Inverernan House began to show themselves through the trees. Inverernan is the seat of General Forbes, who com- mands a portion of the East India Army. It is worthy of being the seat of a General. It is a handsome building, and comparatively modern looking. It is situated on the left of the high road to Aberdeen, fronting towards the Don. Be- tween it and the highway is the tidy little park, with clumps of trees scattered through it. Some parts of it could be im- proved and beautified ; but the gallant General's time is, doubtless, so much occupied in discharging the duties of his profession, in the service of his country, that he finds little time to think of such trifles. Away on a little height behind the mansion stand the offices and servants' houses, and im- mediately behind rises a fine wooded hill, stretching away westward, forming the boundary on one side of Glen Ernan, famous in the Forbes' march or gathering, " Ca' Glennochty 46 and gather Glen Ernan," are well known words in Strathdon. In early times, the lairds of Invereman were among the most powerful chieftains in Strathdon. I believe a letter still exists from the Earl of Mar, immediately preceding the rais- ing of the Standard of the Rebellion by that nobleman in 1715, addressed to his trusty friend the Baron Bailie of Strathdon, telling him to gather all the men of Strathdon, and march to Braemar by a certain appointed day. What a change since those troublous times ! While standing here, we caught sight of another tine looking building, whose win dows were glittering in the rays of the declining sun, and seemingly only a short distance removed from Inverernan, away to the north-east. It proved to be Edinglassie, be- longing to Sir Chas. Forbes, and which gives him part of his title. Leaving Inverernan, we proceeded down for a short distance, when we were surprised to find ourselves in the vicinity of another Castle. We struck off the road to the right, and soon found ourselves in front of one of the most beautiful buildings in the whole of Strathdon, which is studded with them, surpassed only by Newe. It is roman- tically situated amid clusters of trees, on a gentle eminence overlooking the Don, It is built in the cathedral style, with spires and turrets. The approach to it from the Newe direc- tion is beautiful, and in perfect order. There are some marks of decay beginning to appear on the house, owing, perhaps, to its having no regular resident who is interested in its fate. The family who owned it sold it some time ago to Sir Charles Forbes for 30,000, and then went to America. The shoot- ings of it bring about 700 a year. We left Candacraig by its lovely avenue, with a feeling akin to sorrow to think that such a beautiful house should go to decay. We soon reached Park Villa, a thriving hamlet, containing a merchant's shop, a blacksmith's, and a carpenter's. Across the Don from this point, Glen Corvie breaks through the chain of hills which divide Strathdon from Deeside, and runs away in a south- eastern direction towards the Dee. On a little further, and we reached the Bridge of Poldullie, whose large arch spans the Don immediately above the famous pool called the " Pot of Poldullie," which we were told measures 25 feet in depth, 47 a statement which we took the liberty of doubting. It is certainly an awful looking dungeon, seething and whirling, and as black as night. I shuddered, and felt a creeping sen- sation steal over me, as I gazed into its dark depths. A little beyond this is the ruins of the old Castle of Inver- nochty. It is called the " Doune of Invernochty." It is situated on the top of an artificial mound, rising abruptly from the plain to about the height of 60 feet. We climbed to the top, and examined the ruin, which we found to be very small indeed. Only a small part of the fort for there can be little doubt but that it is an old Pictish stronghold on the east side remains to tell that humanity once dwelt there in ages so remote that even fertile tradition fails to give us any information about it. The mound measures 208 paces round the top, and is surrounded by a moat. In byegone days it was said to be a favourite haunt of fairies (a race of beings that have now altogether disappeared), whose mis- chievous pranks often disturbed the peace of families in the neighbourhood. One is related of a poor man who had been at the Mill of Bellabeg for meal. When on his way home, in company with a neighbour, while passing the Doune, they heard the sound of music. The one with the meal, with foolhardy courage, ascended, and immediately found himself in the midst of a party of dancers, who induced him to join them. The poor man did so, and, as the story goes, had to dance there a whole twelvemonth, when the man who bore him company formerly chanced to pass on the same night, and again heard the sound of music, which by the way, was Hallowe'en, the night of all others which our simple and rude forefathers believed to be given up to those merry little gentry, who frisked through the air in company with less musically inclined customers, namely, witches, following in the train of the fairy queen, who had the privilege of riding a fine milk white pony, playing up all sorts of devilish games on any one who was unlucky enough to be outside. It was the temerity of that gentleman before-mentioned in venturing out on that dread night that cost him a year's dancing, and he might have been dancing still, had not his neighbour, with great dexterity and not a little nerve, seized him by the coat tail while whirling past with his meal pock on his back, 48 in company with a gay young fairy. Immediately when human hands touched him the spell was dissolved, and fairies and all disappeared from their sight, and the dancer was con- veyed home to his son-owing wife and family, who had mourned him as dead ; but he woxild never believe that he had danced more than one reel, and even insisted, it is said, on having another. Many are the wondrous tales told about these old castles, and the above is one picked from a few that has connection with the " Doune of Invernochty." We had to leave it, however, with its legends, and, while moving down, we caught sight of the Church of Strathdon, a stately structure with a handsome spire. Though our time was limited, we determined on having a nearer view of the Church. Stepping from the high road, therefore, we crossed the Don, and in a few minutes reached it. We found it a most handsome Presbyterian Church, dating from about 1850, and built in the form of a cross, with the fine tapering spire resting on one of the arms of the cross. On one side of the Church is the burying-ground, with the usual number of headstones some of them newly erected, othei-s quaint and old, the inscriptions on which it would have taken a considerable time to decipher. The interior of the Church is veiy handsome, and it was interesting to notice that within the walls is the burying-place of the family of Newe and Edinglassie. Round the walls are inserted marble tablets to the memory of, among others, members of the families of Newe, Inverernan, Caudacraig, and Allargue. The inscriptions number 24 in all ; and one of them, erected by the Strathdon people, runs thus : " In memory of Hugh Robert Meikle- john, eldest son of the Rev. Robert Meiklejohn, minister of Strathdon, and Lieutenant H.E.I.C. Engineers, killed at Jhansi, Central India, 3rd April 1858, aged 22 years. Gallantly leading one attack of storm ers, he was the first to scale the wall, and there fell deest situation that the whole Glen of Blackwater affords. The appearance of the Lodge is much improved by a small plantation of firs which rises at the back of the house, and in the centre of which are some weather-beaten looking rocks. Close by the house is a large vegetable garden, in remarkably good order, while at the other end the office-houses rise in plain neatness. Blackwater Lodge is truly an oasis in the wilderness, a thing *of beauty in a world of waste. Plunging again into the soli- tudes of nature, the hills began to assume a more genial aspect. The rough heath was beginning to give place to green grass and rich pasture land ; while here and there, when we reached a height, we could catch a glimpse of a farm steading in the distance. This we knew to be Lower Cabrach, and we pressed along with renewed vigour, eager to reach our journey's end. After most of an hour's tramp- ing, we landed at Upper Ardwell, a fine arable and pastoral farm, standing on a height overlooking the Deveron, where we rested. The district of country called Lower Cabrach and the people who inhabit it took us altogether by surprise. We 57 had been accustomed to hear that the Cabrach was synony- mous with all that was rude and uncultivated. How differ- ent we found it. There the true spirit of the Scottish people is manifested without fuss or affectation. The people are canny, warm-hearted, industrious, and brave ; but, above all, hospitable to a degree that makes strangers stare. Though the elevation is high, the Lower Cabrach has a rich soil, and, on the whole, is well adapted for cultivation. Some of the best farms in the upper part of Deveronside are situated in the Lower Cabrach. The Mains of Lesmurdie stands on the left bank of the river, and the heart of man could wish for no finer farm. Invercharroch is a pleasant looking pos- session ; and Shenval, on the opposite, side of the Blackwater, is a beautiful farm, with a large tract of pasture land attached to it. Standing at Upper Ardwell, we were on a capital point for obtaining a view of the district. Spread out in front of us was a picturesque country, drained by a rushing river. On the right hand lay Upper Cabrach, and on the left were the " Glacks o' Balloch," famous as the spot where Roy's wife cheated Johnnie, and the road through which leads on to Auchindune and Dufftown. Slumbering at our feet was a tidy little Church and Manse of the U.P. persuasion, the appearance of which would be much enhanced by the plant- ing of a few trees. There is also a School near the Church. Our contemplation of the beauties of Cabrach were, however, interrupted by the voice of one of our companions shouting, " It is time we were retracing our steps to Glenlivet." As we left Upper Ardwell, we met a traveller going to the Lodge of Blackwater, who volunteered to lead us a shorter route than that by which we had come. Taking the lead, therefore, we turned down the hill to a bend in the Blackwater, which we reached in a very short time. Imagine our astonishment when landing on the bank of the stream to find that there was no bridge, but, as a substitute, two or three pieces of rock, with the water rushing, seething, and whirling between them, and then plunging into a black abyss that foamed below. Seeing that we hesitated, our conductor sprung nimbly on to the nearest ledge of rock, thence to another, and then wheeled round and beckoned us 58 to come, for we could hear nothing but the rush of waters. Slowly, and with a fast beating heart, we hazarded the first leap, and then the second, but at the third, we suddenly found ourselves to the knees amongst the hissing waters, while clear above the din rose the merry laugh of our guide. Somewhat downcast at our misadventure, we strode sullenly on, and soon reached Blackwater Lodge, where we ex- perienced a kindly reception from Mr and Miss M'Hardy. Leaving the Lodge, we reached home after a smart walk of two hours, a little footsore and weary, but withal well pleased with our tour to Lower Cabrach. 59 HOLIDAYS IN UPPER CABRACH. WE had been invited to spend some days in Upper Cabrach. Delighted with the prospect, we started one morning lately. The sky scowled grimly, and the mist hung in dark masses on the hills. The wind swept in gusts down the deep ravines of the mountains, and sighed drearily in the wild corries as we passed along. It seemed to be a struggle be- tween the spirit of the storm and the bright-eyed nymph that I'ules the sunshine. Her smile conjured the angry king. The mist began to roll away backward and upward towards the Grampians, among whose rocky tops and deep glens it finds a wild home. We passed rapidly through Glensuie, took a glance at the wild rocks of the Kyma, skirted the base of Cairn-ta-pruar, where Hainish-an-duem i.e., James of the Hill a noted freebooter of the seventeenth century, had one of his haunts, and soon found ourselves on the top of Craig Roy. Here we rested for a few minutes, gazing at the herds of deer that were roaming about, and then turned and plunged into the wild Glen of Blackwater. Passing musingly along the footpath leading to Blackwater Lodge, one of our feet slipped a little, and something came round upon our boot with considerable force. Glancing down, imagine our consternation and horror when we saw an adder writhing about our foot. Our heart gave a great leap, and we made a bound forward, letting the adder fall. It wriggled in amongst the heather and disappeared. The reptile had evidently come out to enjoy the sunshine, and had fallen asleep a sleep that was unpleasantly disturbed when we unconsciously put our foot upon it. It had the effect of making us keep a lookout ahead during the remainder of the way to Cabrach. The brave man can die with a huzza upon his lips when fighting for his country, but no man can come suddenly in contact with a poisonous reptile, whose bite is 60 certain death, without feeling a nervous tremour and a shud- der passing over his frame, which the frown of death could never do. We passed the Lodge of Blackwater, described in another page, and pressed along to Cabrach, which we soon reached. The Cabrach, like most Highland glens, was now look- ing its very best. The heather on the hillsides was sending forth its purple bloom. The gentle uplands carried a mass of waving green, and the pasture lands were sending forth their clovery fragrance. We called at Upper Ardwell, in- quiring the way, and met a kind reception. With the hos- pitality of their country, they pressed upon us to eat, and when we did not incline doing so, we received a flowing bowl of rich milk, which was relished very much. The road hav- ing been pointed out, we again started up the glen. The glen began to get narrower as we approached Upper Cabrach, and soon came to be a ravine, through which the Deveron rolls along its rugged course, and finds its way to the Moray Firth. The road wends along the river side, through banks and braes of natural birch and hazel that filled the air with perfume. We lingered long here, admiring the sweet seclu- sion of the spot, and though it could not perhaps be called absolutely beautiful, it was, to say the least, a very pretty scene. We crossed two good, substantial looking bridges one spanning a streamlet, and the other the Deveron. After we had crossed the latter, and proceeded on a little further, we struck off the main road and turned to the left, climbing a steep and narrow road leading to Bank, the farm where we were to spend our time in Cabrach. We soon reached it, when we found that the inmates were expecting iis. We had the pleasure of meeting Dr Gordon, an LL.D. from London, and a native of Cabrach ; Mr Gordon, the enter- prising farmer of Bank, and the doctor's wife, Mrs Gordon, and his daughter, Miss Gordon. When we had enjoyed a plentiful repast, and rested ourselves thoroughly, we started with Dr Gordon to view the remains of a tumulus, situated on the top of a little hill called the Drum, where the Doctor had found some remains of a cinerary urn. Being an enthusiastic archaeologist, he spares no pains in trying to pierce the gloom, and rend the 61 dark mist that envelopes the history of our fathers, the men that roamed through the primeval forest, and shot those flint arrowheads, which were the wonder of succeeding generations, down almost to our own time, and were superstitiously regarded as elf shot, the weapons of a sort of creature, now happily banished to the region of myths, who took a strong pleasure in tormenting mankind. As we passed along the valley, separating the farm of Bank from the bill of Drum, the Doctor talked of many things. Politics, science, and literature, formed the chief themes. His political opinions were most decided. They were formed after mature delibera- tion, and a lifetime's experience, their main object being the social and religious improvement of mankind. His talk on the sciences of geology and archaeology was very interesting and instructive. His knowledge of literature was vast, accumulated during his long lifetime. He talked of poets and poetry, and examined with a keen critical eye the works of our best modern poets, and compared them with the gems of Homer and Virgil. He recited with much pathos and feeling, Byron's " Isles of Greece." Thus talking, we reached the Drum, and having taken a spade with us, we at once began to dig. Having removed a considerable quantity of heather, and the Doctor having donned his spectacles, we went down on our knees, and were soon feeling amongst the soft earth for pre-historic remains. We were successful in finding some pieces of baked clay, which had once formed the rude cinerary urn, containing the ashes of, perhaps, some great chief, whose memory has long been buried in the mists of obli- vion. Judging by the remains found, the um had been rudely ornamented, and was formed of sun dried clay. The tumulus at some former period had been broken into, and its contents scattered to the winds, but enough still remains to make the spot interesting to the archaeologist. Proceeding along the ridge of the hill a little further, we came to another spot where Dr Gordon had been digging, and which he deemed to have been a manufactory for flint implements in those long forgotten ages, known as the stone period. He had discovered many flint chips, formed of a flint not found in the district, among which he found a scraper, and an imperfectly- formed arrowhead, which had evidently been under manu- 62 facturo, but which had been thrown aside before being finished. After searching some time, we picked up a few chips, and then walked leisurely homewards. On reaching home, we were able to relish and enjoy the excellent tea prepared for us, after which, Miss Gordon delighted us with her performances on the piano. The shades of night soon began to fall, and darkness set in. All soon retired to rest, to enjoy the repose that sound health and moderate exercise give. Sabbath morning dawned bright and beautiful. The rays of the rising sun found their way into our bed-room, and flickered on the pillow. We started up and dressed, and walked out to take a quiet view of Upper Cabrach. The Buck, as it is called, is the most prominent feature in the landscape. It is a huge, roundish shaped hill, lising, we would calculate, to over 2000 feet in height. Taking the Buck as a centre, its limbs, if we may so speak, encircle Upper Cabrach, giving it the appearance of a vast basin. We will not enter into the geology of Upper Cabrach. Suffice it to say that the physical features of the district, like some other Highland Glens, are remarkable, and will yet form a rich field for the geologist and mineralogist, and a source of national wealth. As an agricultural country, it is not good. The altitude is too high, and its basin shape with hills surrounding it, makes the soil naturally damp, requiring a good deal of drainage, and a large supply of artificial manures to heat it up, so that crops may come to matimty in something like time. This involves a great deal of expense and hard work, and the question naturally arises with the farmer can I not invest my money in something more profitable than in making drains, and sowing artificial manures to rear crops which seldom, if ever, reach a proper state of maturity, and for which I would receive no adequate compensation, should I have occasion to leave my present farm ? This question, and many others, make the Cabrach farmer anything but an improving one. It must not be imagined, however, that while every other district is improv- ing that Cabrach alone is lagging behind ; certainly not. I know some instances, one in particular, who has doubled the arable acreage on his farm, in less than 40 years, and all at 63 his own expense. But there are still vast ti-acts of waste land, that could easily be made coi*n growing land, but, unless a change of circumstances occur, it will remain waste land. The Cabrach farmer is therefore a pastoral farmer, and turns the waste land on his farm to some account. Some of them are very extensive and enterprising cattle dealers. Mr Gordon, the farmer at Bank, has about 220 cattle, a mix- ture of many breeds, comprising the Highland, the Short- horn, the Polled, and Crosses. We observed some very fine animals roaming about. One Polled bull especially tixed our attention. This quantity of cattle, as may be imagined, cannot be kept at home. Grass is taken for them in different parts of the country, and only a limited number are kept at home. Mr Gordon has also a stock of blackfaced sheep, numbering from 500 to 700. Large stocks like this entail a great deal of trouble and attention, taking farmers very often from home, the consequence being that the Cabrach farmer is very shrewd and intelligent. While moving about, we received a call to breakfast, after which we started to Lower Cabrach to church. We entered the little building, and were surprised to find such a nice, tastefully got up chvrch. in a country pai'ish. It belongs to the U.P. body, and was evidently almost new. It hail all the modern improvements a platform, a heating apparatus, and a beautiful clock, presented by the Messrs Sheed, two young men who had gone abroad, and brothers of Mr Sheed, farmer of Upper Ardwell. The clergyman was a stranger to us, but well known in Cabrach. He preached a very plain, practical sermon, illustrated with some anecdotes. If it had any fault, it was that it was too long. Over two hours of an address is more than one man can carry away comfort- ably, and make practical use of. The walk back from church was delightful, through the scented birches, alive with the song of birds. Many of our fellow-worshippers passed us, all wearing that grave, sedate expression which marks the Presbyterians of Scotland in the rural districts on the Sabbath clay. The afternoon was spent with Dr Gordon. We walked about the (ields, and talked of the power which the pulpit exercised over the people of Scotland in former times a power which is now lost to a con- 64 siderable extent, and gained by another mighty engine the press an engine which excites and controls the pas- sions of the people at will. The evening was spent pleasantly with the doctor, talking about some of the scenes which he had witnessed in Continental Europe. On Monday, we had to pi-epare for our return journey. The day was unusually threatening. All pressed upon us to wait another day, but we determined to make the attempt. Be- fore taking farewell, however, of our kind entertainers, we promised to return in a short time and stay a little longer, so that we might be able to form a better idea of Uppei Cabrach and its people. Started on the return journey, we had not gone far when the loweiing clouds burst, and tor- rents of rain fell for a short time, and then ceased. It did not clear up, but scowled, threatened, and sputtered occasionally, until we had passed Blackwater Lodge, when the mist sud- denly descended like a curtain, shutting out from our view hill and glen, rock and stream, earth and sky. All around was a dim, semi-darkness. We could hear the i*oar of the flooded mountain torrent, but could not see it ; and we did not know the moment when we might lose the indistinct ti-ack and tumble headlong into its boiling surge. We went forward as rapidly as possible until we reached the top of Craigroy, when we were fain to sit down on a huge boulder to rest. Remembering the flask which the care and fore- thought of Mrs Gordon had supplied us with, we quaffed part of its contents, and soon felt the effect in the revival of spirits and the fresh energy it kindled within us. We won dered if Sir Wilfrid Lawson had ever been alone on a hill- top, far from a human habitation and from creatures of his own kind, where he could not see a yard before him for the mists of heaven, with his limbs exhausted and wet to the skin, if he had felt the influence of a wee drappie Glenlivet whisky. After resting for a short time, we started down Craigroy, and after half-an-hour's tramping, we got clear of the mist, and once again breathed freely the pure air of heaven. Another hour's smart walking brought us home, none the worse for our tramp among the mist. Our second visit to Upper Cabrach took place a week afterwards. As we moved over the Clashdhu, we could not 65 help remarking the change which so short a time had made. Then all was green, now the fields carried a rich mass of waving yellow grain, and the hills had burst in their purple bloom. Sportsmen roamed over the heathery wilds, bringing down the heatbcock from its mountain home, to be trans- ported fai away, to feed the millions of London. As we passed through Glensuie and Black water, the sportsmen were there hunting the red deer in its native haunts. Herds were roaming about sniffing the breeze, their instinct teach- ing them that man is their foe, and that their proud antlered heads is no match for the steel-barrelled gun of the" Sassenach." We called at Blackwater Lodge, and experienced the kind hospitality of the Misses M 'Hardy, after which, Miss M'Hardy showed us through the Lodge. The house is plainly furnished, A few pictures adorn the walls. Several of them are by Landseer, representing scenes of the chase. A splendid portrait of the Duchess of Richmond and Gordon hangs in the drawing-room. A few sketches by Lord March also hangs on the walls. If his lordship would cultivate a taste for painting, it is evident he has no mean talent. We also saw some sketches by Miss Lizzie M'Hardy, which do that young lady great credit. Leaving the Lodge, we soon reached Cabrach, and a short time after arrived at the farm of Bank, where a warm reception awaited us. The Doctor's talk, and the sweet influence of music soon chased our weariness away, and beguiled the remaining hours of the evening. When morning dawned, quite a change had come over the face of nature. The sun had set on the previous night in a glow of golden glory. No one could have pre- dicted the tremendous hurricane that burst over the country early on Sunday morning. The rich fields of corn, that we admired so much while passing the day before, were now a mass of waving straw, and the golden seed that made the straw droop with its weight was now scattered on the earth to rot and die. The fiend of destruction had truly passed over the Cabrach. Tempestuous though the day was, we determined to visit the Parish Church, which was about a mile and a-half distant. We reached it after a hard struggle, and were glad to get seated inside. The Parish Church of Cabrach, judging by its appearance, had been altered and 66 renovated. The box, or " putnphal seats," as they are called, so common in rural churches, have all been swept away, and the seats now look quite modern, with the pulpit at one end. Yet there is something depressing about it. The three rows of seats ai'e quite drowned by the height of the ceiling, and the long narrow building makes it look like a great sepulchre. It must also be very hard on the preacher, shouting the whole length of the building. The minister of the parish is Mr Smart. On that day, he gave a good historical sermon, which we could appreciate. After reach- ing home, the afternoon was spent in reading and talking. On Monday, though the weather was still very wild and tempestuous, we sallied forth with Dr Gordon to see a vein of plumbago that had been discovered in Upper Cabrach. We had not gone very far when the hurricane returned with all the violence of the preceding day, and we were glad to take shelter with Mr M'Intosh, merchant, for a time, by whom we were kindly received, and experienced his hospitality. After resting a little, we again renewed the battle with the tem- pest, and eventually reached our destination a rock near the base of the Buck. We examined the plumbago care- fully, and found the vein a rich one, though not extensive ; but, the fact is, that no idea of its extent can be formed until the rocks by which it is enclosed are burst, and a little digging done. It might then be ascertained if the working would pay. The rock on one side of the seam is granite, and on the other side the stone has a mixture of iron in it. Tak- ing some specimens with us, we turned down the stream, which takes the name of Deveron when it runs about two miles further down. In the upper districts it is called the Rooster, or Red Water. After moving down about half-a- mile, we came upon a great mass of serpentine, from which we extracted some specimens. We had been pretty well sheltered by the valley, but now, ascending a height, we felt the full force of the gale, and were glad to take shelter in a hut where an old woman lived alone. She eyed us suspi- ciously for a time, but at length bade us be seated, and then began to question us. " Ha'e ye come far 1 " " We have been up seeing the plumbago mine." "Ay, ay; but hae ye come far?" "No; not very far." "I's warrant ye'll be gaun 67 doonwith ? " We proposed going, and thanking the old woman for the shelter of her roof, we made our escape from her curiosity. Her last words were " Min' and come in fin ye come back." We had not reached the height above her hut, when I suddenly clapped my hand on my head, but the hat was away. We watched it as it sped onwards, clearing valleys at a bound, when it suddenly came to a halt, about a mile distant, where we found it settling down among the soft mud of a pool. We were glad to reach Poineed, where Miss Bain soon prepared an excellent tea for us. Her cheese was the finest we have ever seen, and her home-made preserves, gathered on the neighbouring hills, were excellent. Those who visit Upper Cabrach ought to call at Poineed. Leaving our hospitable friends with many good wishes, we reached Bank safely, though nearly exhatisted. After staying another day, we had at length to take our departure from Cabrach. We never spent holidays more pleasantly or profit- ably, and it was with regret that we had to bid our friends at Bank farewell. The kind-hearted old doctor came almost to Blackwater Lodge with us, and then giving us his benediction, we parted. As we passed the Lodge, we again experienced Miss M 'Hardy's kindness, and then strode homewards. We arrived safely in about three hours after, a little wearied, but with bright memories of our visit to Cabrach. 68 GLENRINNES, ITS ARCHAEOLOGY AND AGRICULTURE. THE morning of the 21st February 1880 was gloomy and threatening, with occasional showers, but towards nine o'clock it cleared up sufficiently to warrant us in starting for Glenvinnes, a walk that we had been looking forward to for some time, with pleasurable anticipations. We accord- ingly crossed the stream Cromlie, and skirted the Clashdhu, passed Betavochel, and soon reached Polawicht. A slight difficulty here impeded our progress for a short time. The Livet was considerably swollen with the recent rains, and had swept away the bridge. We thought that the only course left was to ford the stream, but Mr Grant, Polawicht, came down with a long ladder, by which we crossed the whirling torrent dry shod. Shouting back thanks, we rapidly pursued the path past Auchdregnie, keeping our eye fixed in the Cadhu. A short time longer, and we passed Cordregnie, and were soon climbing the heathery breast of the Cadhu. On reaching the top, we glanced back to see black inky-looking clouds gathering behind us, and the mist 'settling down in the hills, a pretty certain indication that rain would follow. Speeding down the back of the hill as quickly as possible, we crossed the burn of Cadhu, and in a short time was in the battle field of Altachulichan or Glen- livet. The Battle of Altachulichan was fought on Thursday, 3rd October 1594. If we can put the slightest reliance on local tradition, it was a wild day. The mist capped the hills, and was creeping down their sides. The wind shrieked and howled down the wild ravine of Altachulichan, and the rain beat furiously in the faces of the conflicting foemen. It seemed as if nature had put forth her strength to ward off" the desperate struggle. But she failed. What can stay the desperate impulses of headlong passions of savage men? 69 The Battle of Altachulichan was an event of very great importance, and tended to consolidate a rising power. The scene where it was fought is solemn and wild. The great black hills, torn and scarred by many a wintry blast, look down in frowning grandeur upon the purling stream, whose amber tint, tradition says, was discoloured for three days with Scottish blood. Away on that heathery height, the gallant chief of the M'Leans withstood the fiery charge of Gordon of Auchindune, and the more cautious Earl of Errol, while down a little further, on that swelling moor, the Highlanders of Argyll were flying before the guns of Capt. Gray, and the steady advance of Huntly. It was a grim struggle. Many a noble-hearted youth fell to rise no more, their well proportioned limbs and handsome features falling to the prowling fox, the mountain eagle, and the carrion crow. Leaving the battlefield, we moved briskly up a little height, and had a look at Loch Clay, i.e., Loch of the Sword, into which, tradition says, a number of swords were thrown. It is simply a small, dark, mossy tarn. A search was at one time made by some enthusiasts for swords, but the only thing found was an old smuggling pot. Leaving the Loch, we marched onward, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing Glenrinnes spread out before us. The first farm reached was Bedach, where we called, enquiring the nearest way to the Manse. Somewhere near this is a spot where the three parishes of Inveraven, Mortlach, and Aberlour meet. At the same spot, the lands of the Duke of Richmond and Gor- don, the laird of Ballindalloch, and the Earl of Fife meet. Crossing a small stream below Croftglass, we came upon a cairn of stones in the corner of a field, called Lord Auchin- dune's Cairn. Tradition tells that at this spot Auchindune is buried. There is inconsistency in the very face of this tale.* Sir Patrick Gordon of Auchindune undoubtedly fell *In " Spottiswood's Miscellany." vol. I., page 257, if I remember rightly, it ia stated that Anchindune's dead body was carried down to the place where the cairn now is, and was left there for some time, until Hnntly's army pro- ceeded back to Strathbogie next day, taking Auchindune' s body with them, for the purpose of burying it at Strathbogie Castle. This is so much in support of local tradition, if it is not drawn from it, which I am inclined to think it is, from the fact that the body would have been as easy carried the first day as the second. 70 in his rash charge against M'Lean, but why he should have been taken to this lonely place and buried, or even left for a night (see note), is what \ve cannot understand. Had the followers of Huntly been defeated, and fled from the field, it is very likely that they would have left their dead un- buried. But when they were left masters of the situation, and had carried Auchindune thus far in the homeward march, it is inconceivable that the Earl of Huntly would have allowed his uncle to be buried or left within a few miles of his own castle. It is very likely that the cairn may com- memorate the death of Aucbindune ; we do not believe that his remains lie beneath it. But the cairn is there, and will transmit the memory of the gallant and good Auchindune to posterity, while there is a man in Glenrinnes to speak his name.* The clouds which were closing behind us in the Cadhu were now quite close, and a dull drizzling rain set in. Turning face down the glen, quickly we passed the two Auchmores, and reached a good road which traversed a great part of the glen in the Duke of Richmond and Gordon's side. After nearly an hour's tramp, we reached the Manse of Glenrinnes, where we met with a warm and hospitable reception from Rev. Mr Bruce, whose animated and interest- ing conversation soon dispelled thought of weariness or fatigue. We walked out in company to view the church and churchyard. The church is a plain, unpretentious building, in the form of three- wing, commodious, and withal comfort- able. The churchyard had been lately acquired, and was still in an unfinished state, the walks through it being formed, and it is surrounded by a strong substantial wall. From the manse we caught a sight of the school, away down behind the church, and it seemed from our standpoint a nice building, nearly new. The trees and shrubs that surround the Manse of Glenrinnes make it in summer as beautiful a retreat as the heart of man could wish for, and when the fierce tempests of winter sweep down the glen, they form the natural protection that every house in the Highlands should *It is interesting to know that the great philosopher, Lord Bacon, who lived in Queen Elizabeth's reign, had something to do with the Battle of Glen- livet. See Lord Bacon's "Life and Letters," by James Spalding, vol. I,, pages 212226. 71 have. Moving along the walk, our eye lighted on a tree, which few would expect to find growing 1000 feet above the sea level the beautiful, tapering, prickly Auracaria of the South American forest, transplanted from that land of the sun, to cold, bleak, sterile Caledonia, and yet it had reached the height ot 25 feet. Another Auracaria, which Mr Bruce told us was planted at the same time, had only reached the height of five or six feet. They seemed strangely out of place among the hardy pines and birches, that twined their protecting arms round them, as if to shelter their slender, fragile forms from the blasts of that storm- swept land. In company with Mr Bruce, we visited some local places of interest, and discussed points in the early history of the district. The history of Glenrinnes, dating far back into the misty past, is partly written and unwritten. The flint arrow point and the stone celt have both been found in Glenrinnes, not in such quantities, perhaps, as to indicate a thickly peopled district ; but they show unmistakably that it was peopled in the stone age. A beautiful little stone celt was lately in the possession of Mr M'Kay, Bedach, but was given over to Dr Gordon, London. Another stone celt is in the possession of Mr Gordon, Rinatin, also, a fine preserved arrow point. As far as we could learn, nothing connected with the bronze period has been discovered in Glenrinnes. This is by no means uncommon, and does not point to Glen- rinnes being uninhabited in that period. Bronze was a metal of great value, and would not be easily procured by the natives of such a district ; and, if procured, it would un- doubtedly be taken great care of. But we think that most archaeologists will be disposed to allow that the bronze age must have been very short in Glenrinnes, and all similar districts, removed as they wei'e from centres of popula- tion, where man had taken his first and great step in the march of civilization. In such centres it is probable that the bronze period may have been of vast length ; but in Glenrinnes, and all glens in the Scottish Highlands, the bronze period may have been only a step a connecting link between the great stone period and the age of iron. This, combined with the perishable natiire of the metal, would 72 account for the scarcity of bronze in such districts. Of bar- rows there are none that we could discover, but agricultural operations often obliterate these. There is, indeed, one re- markable spot in the stackyard of the farm of Reclettich, which we visited in company with Mr Bruce. It consists of three ponderous stones, each about 10 feet in length, rough and unmarked. They lie quite close to each other, running north and south and parallel. They are called the King's Grave. With our knowledge of archaeology, we could not give any decided opinion as to their origin. We cer- tainly had ideas, but they were more theoretical than real. We, therefore, consulted the opinion of Canon Greenwell, M.A., F.S.A., the eminent and accomplished author of " British Barrows," a gentleman who has, perhaps, had more experience among barrows than any man living, and he, with all his experience, could not solve the mystery which en- velopes them. Had it not been for the extraordinary size of the stones, he would have thought it probable that a stone cist might be beneath them ; but, as it is, he is doubtful if it is a tumulus at all. If he could have seen them, however, he might have formed another opinion, as a description must, necessarily, be very imperfect. Another object of interest to the antiquarian, near Glenrinnes, is the remains of a camp, on the top of a hill called Conval, i.e., Blue Hill. This camp is supposed first to have been Pictish, and latterly Danish. There is no reason to doubt this. The Danes were defeated in its im- mediate vicinity by Malcolm II., at the Battle of Mortlach. After this " king making victory," which secured the inde- pendence of the kingdom of Scotland for a time, it is probable that the camp in Conval Hill had been left to its fate. We thought it probable that if it had once been a Pictish fort, it would have been a vitrified one, but Mr Bruce assured us that he had examined the remains, and could find no signs of vitrification. Coming within the pale of authentic history, we find that Glenrinnes was very early occupied by cadets of the powerful families of Comyn and Gordon. Of the former family, seven generations held sway at Lochterlandoch, descendants of the famous Coruyn, whom Bruce, the heroic 73 King of Scotland, slew on the altar steps. The Gordons are of a later date, but they were in Glenrinnes as early as 1670. They were allied to the gi'eat Gordon family, and fought under its banner, but space prevents us from going minutely into the genealogy of these separate families. Walking down the glen, we found ourselves at Milltown of Laggan, tenanted by Mr Glass, who kindly showed us some of his " stirks." Mr Glass is a capital cattle rearer, and last year a sfcot bred by him, after distinguishing itself at various local shows, took the second prize at Smithfield. But this is nothing new to Glenrinnes. It will be remembered by many that, ten or eleven years ago, a stot reared at Achlochrach, and afterwards bought by Mr Bruce, Burnside, carried the " blue ribbon " and 100 guinea cup, at Smithfield. The Glenrinnes people, notwithstanding the many difficulties they have to contend with, are famous as cattle rearers and feeders, and can hold their own with the best districts in Banffshire. Leaving the Milltown of Laggan, we turned northward, and struck across to Reclettach, tenanted by Mr Grant, the farm where the King's grave is to be seen. Moving on again, we soon reached Lochterlandoch, where we called. Reluctantly bidding good-bye to Mr Bruce, and leaving Lochterlandoch, we soon reached the boundary of the farm of Rinatin, where we struck through the fields and soon reached the farm steading. During an hour spent with Mr Gordon, we had the opportunity of seeing his stock, and receiving particulars of his system of cattle feeding, and discussing agriciiltural practice in Glenrinnes. Mr Gordon, who, as one of the most experienced farmers in the glen, lays it down that at the steading, the houses must be well ventilated and kept clean, and the cattle disturbed as seldom as possible. In the morning, the stock have straw at seven o'clock, at eight they get turnips, at twelve, oilcake or bruised corn, as an extra diet, not always given ; again at three o'clock, turnips and straw, then stiaw at eight in the evening. The greatest punctuality is observed, the stock never being left ten or even five minutes past the regular tin.e of feeding. With such system, Glenrinnes farmers never sell their two- year olds under .-24, and often as high as 30. As an agricultural district, Glenrinnes is not good. The 74 elevation and its peculiar physical features render the crops late, and, consequently, far from sure. Benrinnes, which rises in the north side of the glen, to the height of 2745 feet, and Corhabbie, in the south side, elevated 2558 feet above sea level, may give the reader, not acquainted with the dis- trict, some idea of it. These two mountains enclose the whole valley, forming a sort of focus, through which tem- pests sweep with irresistible force. Were it not the sheer force of farming, crops in Glenrinnes would be anything but profitable. But the people are thrifty, frugal, and persever- ing. Their bleak, storm-swept climate has the effect of drawing forth all the energies of their being. Thus we find them thriving, pi'osperous, and contented. In the geology of the district there is little peculiar. The greater part of the valley is composed of mountain limestone, a marine de- posit, believed by many geologists to belong to the carboni- ferous age, and contemporaneous with the coal measures of the South. Benrinnes is crowned with immense granite blocks, forming a sort of crest, rising abruptly from its east- ern face. There can be little doubt that Corhabbie is also mainly composed of granite. Ere leaving Rinatin, Mr Gordon showed us a shell, picked up among limestone rock near his farm. We recog- nised the shell at once as a land shell, known as Helex Memerelis Lunl. Quantities of these shells are found in various districts. But the evening was closing, and we were forced to bid our kind friends good-bye, and t\irning our face homewards, we soon entered the Glack of Bregach, a narrow pass between two hills, which separates Glenrinnes from the Morinsh district. It was now quite dark, but it had cleared up a little. We were not quite throxigh the Glack when we encountered the farmer of Gowdenknowes, Morinsh, in whose company we journeyed for two or three miles. Thereafter, a walk of two hours brought us home, to cherish the liveliest recollections of Glenrinnes and its kind-hearted inhabitants. 75 THE BRAES OF GLENLIVET SIXTY YEARS AGO. CHAPTER I. SIXTY or seventy years ago the Braes of Glenlivet was a dis- trict little known to the outsider. Indeed, they are little known at the present day by many of the lowland natives of Aber- deen, Banff, and Moray, otherwise than by name ; but, if once seen, it would not be easy to forget them. The physical fea- tures at once strike the eye of the beholder as uncommon and peculiar. It is a region isolated, if I may so speak, from the neighbouring glens by high, and in many parts, precipitous hills, whose rugged aspect gives a wild and barren appearance to the whole district. On the east side of the Braes more par- ticularly this is the case. A high range of hills a spur of the Grampians runs along the whole length of the glen, sepa rating the counties of Banff and Aberdeen, and separating the Braes of Glenlivet from Glenbucket and Strathdon. On the north, again, a chain of the Corhabbie range runs from east to west, separating the Braes from Glenrinnes and Mortlach ; and on the east and south, a range throws its giant arms between the Braes and the Tomintoul district. Thus it will appear to the reader that the Braes of Glenlivet resemble, in many particitlars, a loch ; or, as some have said, a punch-bowl. Their average breadth are, perhaps, four or five miles, and their average length about the same distance. Although the district is called the Braes, it is, comparatively speaking, a level country, and but for its high altitude and close proximity to the lofty mountains that surround it, finely adapted for agricultural purposes. As a natural consequence of lying amongst the hills, the climate is very damp and cold, and in many parts the soil, which is naturally good, is very marshy. G2 76 When such is the case at the present day, with all the modern advantages of draining and superior cultivation, what must it have been sixty years ago ? The Braes were then as wild a piece of country as any part of the Highlands of Scotland presented, and without even a tree on which the eye could rest a moment with pleasure, and inhabited by a race of people peculiar in many respects from their nearest neighbours a race possessing many of the virtues and fail- ings of the ancient Highlander, and in consequence of the advancement of civilization, possessing fewer than many others of those evils which were the disgrace of feudalism. Their nature presented all the features peculiar to the Celtic character. They were brave, rash, and impetuous, but kind and hospitable to strangers, if they came as friends. Com- bined with these, they cherished a thorough contempt and abhorrence of law, in whatsoever form it might be adminis- tered. Situated as they were within their mountain fast- nesses, with no roads, and with little communication with the outside world, and bound together with the ties of friendship and blood, it was no easy matter, when an offence was committed, for the arm of the law to reach them. This was seen fifty years ago, when the Government had determined to put an end to smuggling, which was then the staple occupation of the inhabitants of the Braes of Glenlivet. . They went to it with a spirit and energy, which, had it been shown in the cultivation of the soil, or any other useful industry, the fruits of it would soon have been seen in the improvement of the country, and also of the manners and customs of the people, which, as may be supposed, were not at that time very highly polished. But where smuggling was carried on, they were even worse than elsewhere. It brought with it many evils and no good. It gave the people a lawless spirit, and by the exposure at all times, and at all seasons, which the successful carrying on of such an occupation necessarily involved, the constitutions of the people were undermined, and many of the fruits of that exposure, combined with a little dissipation, are to be seen in some of their descendants at the present day. Otherwise, they were a hardy race of men, men who would have shed the last drop of their blood in their country's 77 defence, and many of them did so in the Peninsular War, where the Highland Regiments so much distinguished them- selves. The firm and determined opposition to the servants of the law, was strikingly shown some fifty years ago, when the preventives for the first time entered the Braes of Glen- livet. The people heretofore had smuggled quietly at home, but now things had come to such a pass that this could no longer be done. They therefore went to the hills with the determination to fight to the last for their " stills," and they knew that in the hills the preventives could not tell one man's bothy from another. In this state of matters, they felt themselves to be secure as long as they could keep the preventives' hands off them, and they likewise knew that the preventives were at a great disadvantage in not knowing the hills. They might search for days and not come upon a single bothy. Some will even hint that they did not wish to find them, that they were afraid to do so. Perhaps this might have been the case with some of the preventives, but as a rule, they did their duty manfully, some of them doubt- less overdoing it, and earning the inveterate hatred of the smugglers. Many are the tales told by men yet living, of the skirmishes which used to take place between the smugglers and the preventives, some of them not altogether free from bloodshed. It was related to me by an old smuggler, that he and several companions (most of whom are still alive), were chased one day among the hills by a superior force of preventives and gangers with loaded weapons. The smugglers had only one gun and some powder but no lead. It was a very hard frost, and he, to procure a ball for the gun, in the shape of a small stone, knocked the toe from his brogue in the attempt. Fortunate it was perhaps for the whole of them that the attempt was unsuccessful. This little anecdote, from a trustworthy and highly respectable old man, will show the spirit with which they were possessed, and that they were prepared to go any length in defence of what they considered to be their right. And with all their perseverance, it only brought them ruin and poverty, and it brought them under the lash of the law that fell upon them with crushing force. The well known John 78 Milne o' Livet Glen wrote a rhyme, and had it printed, in which he described a skirmish which took place in the neighbouring valley of Glennochty. These ballads were sold at 3d. each throughout the neighbouring glens, which so irritated the gaugers and preventives that they procured some copies and sent them to Edinburgh, with a long com- plaint. The consequence was that a body of soldiers made their appearance soon after, along with the preventives. These gentlemen, finding themselves supported by the red- coats, went to work with such a will that they soon reduced the smugglers to the last extremity. Yet the soldiers did not relish the duty imposed upon them, and some anecdotes are told of their disinclination to support the preventives. One day the preventives were marching up a hill, with the intention of capturing some smugglers who were situated on the brow of it. They commenced to hurl down stones upon the preventives, partly for amusement and partly to annoy them. The preventives, seeing this, shouted loudly to the soldiers to come on. They were taking it quite easy a good distance in the rear. They advanced, however, to the bottom of the hill. The smugglers, on seeing this, desisted, but the officer in command of the soldiers shouted in Gaelic to throw down more. The smugglers at once obeyed, and with such effect that the preventives beat a hasty retreat. But this was the last of the smuggling on a large scale. The people saw that it would not do. They saw that the Government were in earnest. Some of their countrymen had lain for many a month in Perth jail, and when any of them went away with a cargo of whisky, it was sure to be seized, and many of those who were buying it from them were not paving them. They therefore resolved to stop it, and try something else. Many of the young men left their native glen to drive cattle to England. Others settled down quietly to till the soil, thinking that the severity of the Government had ruined them; but it proved to be the greatest blessing that could possibly have come over them. 79 CHAPTEK II. IN these days of fast travelling, fast living, and fast everything, one finds some difficulty in extracting himself from the din and bustle around him, and when this is done, he can scarcely find time to pause and think, and to glance backwards at the doings of our grandfathers sixty years ago. Comparing the position which they held in the world, with the position which we occupy at the present day, and looking at the changes that have taken place since that time, changes certainly great throughout the North of Scotland, every one is willing to admit that the world is now very different from what it was, but the people in the Lowlands of Banff, Moray, and Aberdeen, do not often stop to think of the vast changes that have taken place in the Highlands of the same counties, since the old men amongst us were boys. And in no part of the Scottish Highlands have these changes been more apparent than in the Braes of Glenlivet. The appearance of the countiy is altered altogether. Nothing is the same, with the exception of the everlasting liills. Sixty years ago, a stranger visiting the Braes of Glen- livet would have had some difficulty in finding them without a guide. There were no roads leading to them, nothing but a rough mountain track along the sides of hills, through bleak moorlands stretching far and wide, clad in the garment of the north, the tempest defying heather, with here and there a green patch scattered along the burnside, that partly relieved the monotony of the scene. In fact, there was no cultivation worthy of the name. There might have been about 1000 acres under cultivation at that time, with a population of perhaps about 800. At the present day, there are perhaps over 2000 acres cultivated, with a population of little more than half that number, or about 500. This was a strange state of matters. Still it is a fact. The people had no love for cultivation, and their implements were of the rudest and most primitive description. Fancy eight or ten strong oxen drawing a wooden plough, with scarcely so much iron about it as would form the beam of an ordinary plough of the present day, and requiring two men to work it, one to hold the plough, while the other (the gaudsman, as he was 80 called), guided the oxen. These oxen were of the Highland breed, shaggy brutes, with tremendous horns. Horses were seldom used, unless by the poorer class for ploughing, and these yoked a cow or two along with the horse. The horses were also of the Highland breed, a size larger than the Shetland pony of the present day. Everyone almost had a plough, though very many of them wanted the harness. It was told to me by an old gentleman, still living in the Braes, that there were seven families living in the farm which he occupies at present, and they all had ploughs, but he never saw them all yoked at one time. The one who chanced to be up earliest generally took the liberty of supplying himself with his neighbour's harness. Yet they got on very agreeably and very well. But in those days, when there was no such thing as drainage, their ploughing and sowing were very often in vain, owing partly to the dampness of the climate, and partly to bad cultivation. Their crops were often late, and, as a natural consequence, frost came and nipped the grain before the grain was nearly ripe for cutting, which is too often the case still. And sometimes it was altogether buried by heavy falls of snow. This the old people ascribe to bad seasons. Perhaps they are right. Be that as it may, it is certain that the poor people were often put to very hard shifts to obtain the means of sustenance. Had it not been for the friendliness of the one to the other, they could not have existed at all. The more fortunate helped their neigh- bours an example which their successors would do well to follow. That is one way of solving the mystery of how they lived. But there is another. They believed that a fish from the stream, a bird from the air, or a deer from the hills was the common right of every man, and they helped themselves in those days, almost without let or hindrance. Another mode of obtaining a living was the driving of fir, which they could dig in abundance from the numerous mosses. They drove loads of this to Huntly, a distance of between twenty and thirty miles, and even as far as Insch, and received about 3s. per load, with in addition, perchance, a " bicker o' brose " to the bargain. But some of them often received much less than this. When they got 3s., they considered they were 81 pretty well paid. Pause and think, reader, of digging fir out of moss several feet deep, drying it, splitting it, and driving it thirty miles for 3s. a load. I fancy that the working men of to-day will smile at this, and at the mention of a " bicker o' brose," turn up their nose besides. This was the principal use that they made of carts. They were scarcely used for work at home, such as driving peats or dung. O ! dear no ! They had a more ingenious plan for that. A Highland pony was furnished with two creels, called callochs. These were slung on to the pony's back, one on each side. They had slipping bottoms, and when emptying them, the driver had to be careful how he removed the bottoms. If he removed the one before the other, the full one would slip down and cause some trouble. A cord was attached to each of the creels. The two cords were pulled at one time, and the bot- toms slipped at once. The dung fell out, and the bottoms slipped back again. They could drive nearly as much peats or manure in that way as they can do yet, if they were not far to drive. They grew very few turnips in those days, and what they did grow were for man's use. The cattle did not require them. They were like their masters hardy, and could do with very little feeding. They were simply driven to the hills in the morning with a herd, and taken home at night again. In winter they received an allowance of straw, depending greatly on the season's crop in amount. Clover was out of the question. I remember of an old man telling me that the first clover that came to the Braes, came to a farm where there were a few young maidens, who used to invite the young men down to see them, and get a smell of their clover. It was a wonder in those days. What would the model farmers of the present day think of this style of farming] What would a farmer from the fertile plains of the Lowlands, one who had been accustomed to see bright fields of yellow grain waving joyously in the summer breeze, what would he have thought on visiting this land of " mountain and of flood " sLxty years ago, and finding the people living in turf hovels, without a chimney, and some- times minus a window 1 It is a fact that there were not over five or six chimneys in the Braes of Glenlivet sixty years ago. 82 What would such a farmer, as I have mentioned, have thought in beholding a man following the plough without a stocking or shoe on his feet, and in asking him if his feet were cold, to receive the following reply and such a reply was actually given that they were " some caul till he got them into the last fur." I fancy that that farmer would have had some difficulty in convincing himself that he was still in Auld Scotia, particularly so when the wild wailing of a Gaelic song would fall on his ear. Yet this was the case, and within thirty miles of his own trim farm steading. The people living in the Highland Glens in those days had strange customs. One pai*ticularly strange, was the running after a funeral. After they had held the " likewauk," and the appointed time for the funeral came, the whole of the people in the Braes almost could be seen wending their way round the base of the hills, some on foot, and some on horseback, to meet the procession. The places of interment were a long way from the Braes. Either Kirkmichael, Downan, or Inveraven. After the body had been consigned to its native earth, the 1'ace commenced, and never halted until they had reached home again. Their reason for so run ning is a mystery to me, but run they did, as if a host from the infernal regions had been pursuing at their heels. Probably it was a custom of heathen origin. But if so, the tradition for it, if ever there had been any, has been lost in the mists of time. Another custom was that called cailley, that is, going to spend the long winter nights in some of the neighbouring houses. The lads and lasses would gather in about the latter with their work, knitting and such like. Songs and stories would circle round the bright ingle, and wile the time away. A pot of red cabbages would be boiled, and each would receive a castock. On the whole, the people lived happy and contented in those days. No man in the Braes was superior to his neighbour. Therefore, no envy or jealousy caused bad feelings to exist. They would bring vividly before the mind's eye the patriarchal times. They were splendid specimens of Highlandmen, mentally and physically. They were splendid specimens of the Scottish people happy, contented, and free. 83 THE PRESENT BRAES OF GLENLIVET. IN the former two chapters I have been trying to give some idea of the Braes of Glenlivet sixty years ago. I now propose to draw a little nearer our own time, and try to depict some of the changes that have taken place in agriculture, in education, and in the manners and habits of the people. It would be tedious to describe minutely every change that has taken place within sixty years. I will content myself therefore with glancing at the more important of these changes. After the suppression of the smuggling, the people began to look about them for some means of obtaining a livelihood, and as nothing presented itself moie agreeable to their tastes than tilling the soil, they were forced to submit to a power which they could not resist, and work hard and earn their bread by the sweat of their brow. They had doubtless great difficulties to contend with. Their implements were rude and unwieldy. Their ploughs were scarcely strong enough to overturn a tough " lea rig." Then they were in a great measure shut up from the outer world, and their means of communication with more advanced districts were small. But even supposing that they had had every facility for communication, they, as a rule, had no money to spare, with which to buy implements of a better description than their own. This state of matters necessarily made the changes slower for a few years than they otherwise would have been, but step by step they advanced, until about thirty-five years ago, when I may say a new era in the history of the Braes of Glenlivet began. About that time the old leases were run out, and the late Duke of Richmond began to take a greater interest in the outlying portions of his estates than he had heretofore done. He came personally to Glenfiddoch, and re-set the farms, adding some new rules which were unknown 84 pi'eviously in this part of the country, among which was the stipulation as to farming in the five shift rotation, a system which an opinion will be given on below. About the time of the set at Glenfiddoch, a young Roman Catholic clergyman arrived to take charge of the Braes' Mission, and he had no sooner seen the state of the country, and made himself at home in it, than he bent the energies of his powerful mind to one object, viz., the improve- ment of the Braes, and of the Braes' people ; and, as a first step, he applied in the proper quarter to have a I'oad con- structed through the centre of the Braes. By dint of perse- verance and representation he obtained his object, and a capital road was at length formed to Chapelton. This opened up the Braes, if I may so speak, to the civilized world, and was a powerful stimulus to the people. The effect was soon seen. They began to trade, and likewise to adopt the cus- toms of the low country. They changed the breed of their horses and cattle ; and best of all, through the influence of the clergyman before-mentioned, they began to educate their children, which was previously, with very few exceptions, altogether neglected. They were far from that glorious in- stitution, the Parish School, an institution which for cen- turies held Scotland before the eyes of the world as a country where the poorest received a sound education. They were far from this institution; but a patriotic countryman, a Roman Catholic clergyman, Abbe M'Pherson, who died in Rome, had, some time previous to this, left the bulk of his fortune for the behoof of his native glen to establish a Roman Catholic Chapel, and Schools for males and females, which he built and endowed. The schools proved to be of in- calculable value when in the hands of a vigorous pastor, who obtained good teachers, and induced, I may almost say com- pelled, the children to attend. The only chance of education which they previously had was availing themselves of the services of some stray teacher, who sometimes visited the country for a few months in the middle of winter, and con- verted some pretty central sheep cote into a school for the time being. But all had changed. Education now began to spread her benign influence abroad, and everything began to advance 85 with rapid and gigantic strides in the march of progress. Moorlands clad with purple heath were now brought under the dominion of the plough, marshes were drained, and gentle swelling uplands could now be seen clad with the reward of the husbandman's labour, while towering in wild magnificence the mighty ramparts of freedom looked clown from their vast heights and seemed to smile on the rich picture spread out at their feet, and at the efforts of their children to convert ban-en wildernesses into nodding corn fields, and fields of bright green alive with lowing herds. And is it not something to gladden the eye and cheer the heart of the patriot to see his country, the country that he loves, become the home of a steady, industrious, and persever- ing peasantry, reaping the reward of their arduous toil. But to return to the subject. The Braes, which fifty or sixty years ago were twenty years behind the Lowlands, were now close at their heels, and in a few more years were alongside of them in the race of improvement. This brings us to the present day, when farmers in the Braes are endeavouring with all their skill to make the " twa ends meet," a task which in these high-lying districts is not so easily accomplished as some may imagine. In fact, owing to the high rate of wages, and to the insecurity of their corn crops, with the cost of artificial manures, farmers, as a rule, say that agriculture will not pay. Yet if it does not pay in the Braes of Glenlivet, I fail to see how it can pay in any other place. They have doubtless difficulties to contend with which Lowland farmers know very little about. The corn crop, as I said, cannot be depended upon, except on a few farms, but then their rents are small in comparison with those of the Lowland farmer. It must be said for them, however, that now-a-days when expenses are so heavy in wages, manures, and every thing the farmer requires, cheap rents are of less consequence than formerly. Rent is only a small item. The great thing is to get good returns, and make more of them in order to meet the increased outlay. In the Braes, with crops alone they could scarcely live. A most important privilege is that they are allowed to keep three sheep for every I almost could love again. But I will not disturb thy deep, sweet sleep, To ask thee to smile on me ; J will live alone alone and weep, But my heart shall dwell with thee. The thought of thy bright angelic smile The thought of thy matchless form, Will light my path, and my cares beguile, As a ray through the gathering storm. Send forth your perfume, flowers of the wild ; Ye birds, pipe your sweetest song ; And the woods, and the wind wild nature's child- Will join with the choral throng, And soothe thy sleep 'neath the giant pine, And cheer thy woes when waking, And bid love again thy heart entwine, To heal mine own that's breaking. The laughing nymph of the brook will make A wreath to twine around ye ; The fairy queen will her halls forsake, And the queen of beauty crown thee. IN MEMORY OF BELLA. WEARY, sad, and sorrowful the morning dawned on me, Though bright the gorgeous sun arose in splendour o'er the sea, And nature donned her fairest robes of flowers and living green, While all around was cheerfulness, no sorrow could be seen, K 122 The little birdies warbled sweet among the leafy trees, And, rich with perfume, o'er them swept the balmy southern breeze ; While high above the mighty arch of Heaven's boundless blue Shone clear and fair, without a speck to mar the gazer's view. And soft the murmuring streamlet plied along its pebbled bed, As through its ponds the sportive trout in tiny squadrons fled; While on its banks the waving grass in rich luxuriance grew, And far the Bochel's towering crest its shadows o'er them threw. All, all was decked in loveliness, as Nature's hand could paint, Nothing seemed sad or sorrowful, yet I was sick and faint, The cherished idol of my heart was gone, and gone aye, The fair, the bright, the beautiful, O ! beautiful as day. The brightest star that ever shone far in the azure sky Would pale before the matchless glance and beauty of her eye ; No bold and wanton eye was hers, it meek and modest shone, The mirror of her guileless soul, the seat of virtue's throne ! The graceful fawn that lightly skips along the grassy wold Is clumsy, when compared to her light symmetry of mould ; The mavis' song, so passing sweet, beneath the birchen tree, Resembles, in its sweetest notes, the songs she sang to me. Oh ! had I but the power of him who sang his Nannie's grace, I'd paint, in colours ne'er to fade, the beauty of her face ; The beauty of the tender flower bedecked with pearly dew, All pure, to kiss the morning sun, no fairer was to view. No wonder though my heart be sad, and filled with bitter woe, No wonder though my memory turn to scenes of long ago, No wonder though I lonely mourn, when all around is gay, The ever bright and beautiful is gone, and gone for aye ! 123 A RETROSPECT. IN the silence of twilight I sat in the greenwood, No creature was near me, I sat all alone, While I silently mused on the days of my childhood, On memories departed, and pleasures now gone. Then the sun of my hopes rode high in his splendour, No cloud marred his glory or hid him from view, When I roved by yon catai*act roaring in grandeur, And pulled the wild daisies, O ! Willie, with you. Ah ! sweet were those moments of innocent gladness, When, with hearts light and buoyant, we roamed o'er the lea; No cares to harass us, no sorrow, no sadness, Our cheeks all aglow, and our step light and free. But soon, soon, alas ! those bright moments faded, And cares then unknown, round my pathway have grown, And when lost in the labyrinth, no helping hand aided, Now I moui'n o'er those joys that for ever have flown. Yet though darkness and tempest around me have gathered, And friends keep aloof from my bark in the gale, Yet my pulse will beat higher when the tempest is weathered, Than if friends held the rudder, or had furled the sail. If we knew of the trials that are lying before us, When fighting a world as false as 'tis fair, We'd fly for a shelter e'er the storm broke o'er us, Or shrink from the conflict, and die in despair. Yet one moment's sorrow makes the next moment sweeter ; If the cup were not mixed we'd lose sight of the goal, And driftdown pleasure's current, while the moments fly fleeter, That are hastening us on to the land of the soul. Then stand by your colours through trials and sorrow, Let hope be your watchword, let faith be your shield ; And the clouds will disperse with the dawn of to-morrow, Then you'll jov in the thought that you forced them to yield. K2 124 TO ANNIE. GENTLE maiden, budding fair, In the spring time of thy bloom ; Lightly falls thy flowing hair, Clear thy eye from cloud and glooin. Cast in nature's finest mould Is thy lithe and graceful form ; Unfit to battle with the bold, Or brave life's fierce and withering storm. Modest, unassuming, mild, Untutored in the ways of art, Lightsome as a mountain child, Happy in thy guileless heart. Is there none among the swains That round thee bend obedient knee ; Say is there none from lowland plains, Whose sighs have ne'er affected thee. Happy he whose ardent love Finds response within thy breast, And by a life's devotion prove That loving thee hath made him blest. Oh ! would to fate it were my lot To win so rare and pure a gem ; Content, I'd cherish in a cot, My jewel from nature's diadem. O ! smile again the sunny smile That first threw light athwart my sky ; It banishes my cares awhile To bask beneath thy glorious eye. And bid me hope ! Nay, do not frown, A frown would fix my lonely doom ; But smile content, and be my own, My guiding star to gild the gloom, 125 BLIGHTED HOPE. I STOOD alone, and the wild wind sighed A dirge o'er the snow clad lea ; And a bursting wail from my heart replied, In a chorus of misery- Gone ! gone ! is that dream, and all so fast ; Like a flash it came, like a shade went past. Yes ! gone for aye, and a settled gloom A cloud over my life hath cast ; And the hope that burst in the richest bloom Was killed by the wintry blast, That swept so fierce o'er my shivering frame, Arid it bloomed not again, though the summer came. Though the summer came, and the sunbeams played, (Yet winter remained with me) ; Though the song birds sang in the birchen glade, And the red deer bounded free ; And the streamlets flashed with a crystal sheen, And wild flowers grew on the meadows green. But the weird wind sobs, and my lone heart sighs In harmony sad and low ; And the threat' ning lower of the gloomy skies Makes me laugh in my bitterest woe ; For my spirit lifts when in might dart forth The lightnings red from the stormy north ; And the thunders roll, and the houses shake, And the timorous shrink with dread, And the giant firs on the mountains break, And the bolts fly fast o'erhead : Then my bosom heaves with a pleasing glow, And I feel as I felt in the long ago. I once was happy, and I fondly dreamed That my bliss would last for aye ; But the star of hope, that so brightly beamed, Grew dark in a single day ; 126 Then, blighted and lone, with a heart forlorn, I wandered away far away to mourn. And I'm mourning still, with no cheering beam To shine on my dreaiy path ; Yet fancy betimes, with a sudden gleam, Wafts me back to my native strath- To a strath that the mavis makes glad with its song, Where the waters of Isla flow gently along. FORSAKEN. MAIDEN, thy voice in my ear yet is sounding, Though faint be its tone as the echo of years ; And my heart yet unchanged at memory leaps bounding, As when first thy soft glance raised my hope and my fears. Deep, deep in my bosom thy image engraved Shall live, though misfortune's worst frowns be in store : Its frowns I despise, the worst will be braved, Though my best hopes have faded, and love is no more. I tried to efface from my mind, when we parted, The last lingering look of thy soft azure eye ; And the sobs that I heaved, and the big tears that started, Were witnessed by all the bright stars in the sky. And the last fond embrace Ah ! how could I tear it From out of the record in my memory's page, When thy loving lips falteringly told me to bear it, And murmured that time would my sorrow assuage. Ah ! little you fancied the depth of devotion That was living, though dormant, within my young breast A love as enduring, and deep as the ocean, And pure as the dew on the laverock's soft crest. .127 But thy love Ah ! Lucy, why did you deceive me, When you knew the fond heart that was laid at thy feet ? You said that you loved me, and whispered " Believe me, My heart ne'er shall change, till it ceases to beat." Thy love, it changed like the mist on the mountain, When chased by the tempest careering in might ; It was false as the sunbeam that flits o'er the fountain, Or a dream that takes wing with the shadows of night. But I heed not. An eye like a Venus in brightness Still beams on me fondly, and banishes care An eye that's aye sparkling in beauty and lightness, O'erhung by a mantle of soft, sunny hair. Then go, Lucy, go, and may fortune attend thee, Your love I despise, it is false as the shade ; A day is at hand when kind fate will send me A fairer, and better, my own Highland maid. AN ODE TO NATURE. I LOVE "not the din of a city life, Striving and jostling with the crowd, Or dwelling : mid scenes of brawling strife, The nightly debauch and revel loud, Where crime and vice their sceptres sway O'er wretches in premature decay. I love not to gaze on the image of God, Pale and haggard, passing by, Or hovering near the vile abode With hollow cheek and sunken eye ; No, no ! such scenes are not for me, I love the heathery moorland free. 128 Free from the tint of polluted air, Free as the warblers in the woods, Free as the bounding mountain hare, Far in the dusky solitudes, There let my home be, there, there ! To dwell in peace and free from care. There nature teaches the pine to grow, And teaches the linnet her song to sing ; There, pure and white as the crystal snow, The daisies bloom by the sparkling spring ; All, all is fair where man's rough hand Comes not to tear the smiling land. Oh ! I love to stand on yon rocky steep (In ancient time the eagle's home), And gaze below on the whirling deep Boiling itself to a sheet of foam, Then bickering down with hasty speed, When it finds itself from its prison freed. And I love to hear the tempest loud Howling around the rocks so hoar, When bursts in wrath the thunder cloud, With deafening crack and sullen roar, And far and wide the lightnings gleam, Then nature reigns and reigns supreme. How tame, O mail, are thy greatest deeds, And tamer yet thy wordy skill, Wrangling o'er knotty points of creed, Far from the stream, the glen, the hill ; I would go where stately forests nod, And worship with Nature, Nature's God. I would go to a land where the setting sun Cradles himself in a fiery bed At eve, when his brilliant course is run, And night descends in her sable shade ; I would go to a land o'er the western wave, Where wild flowers bloom on the Indian's grave. 129 AN ADDRESS TO THE WIND. WHO, or what art thou, O wind (Fit theme for rhythm), That has moved since the birth of ages, Unmarked by time ? Art thou the breath of the great Supreme, Whose mighty hand Grasps and rules the universe, and lives In every land 1 Or art thou a weapon in the hand of fiends, To scourge the earth, And hurl into ruin the works of men, And scatter death ! Where is thy home, O king of elements, On whose wings ride The tempests that wage eternal war With the heaving tide ? Is it in the bright and sunny lands Where summer reigns, Where vine and orange groves bedeck The swelling plains 1 Or is it in the cold and stormy North, Where winter's lord, Where barren earth will scarce its flocks Sustenance afford ] Answer, thou king of gods, Imperial Jove, Is it in the east, west, north, south, Or up above ? Where dwells the whirlwind, Whose mighty wrath Hurls gigantic trees, crags, and stones, To strew its path 1 130 Still it heeds not my voice but shrieking along, in the pride of its glory and might, And gods in their cars ride past on its wings, But their forms are hid from my sight. Yet I fancy they ride on the breath of the gale, Triumphant when elements war, When thunders are pealing and lightnings are flashing, Majestic in splendour afar. But I know that One Hand grasps the whole in its might, For oceans and seas own His sway, And proud waving forests bow lowly their heads, And acknowledge the God they obey. A DREAM. I SLEPT and I dreamed of a bright, bright land, Far in the east away, Where a cloudless sky met my raptured eye, And the music of birds that sang on high, Made me think it eternal day. Methought as I lay on a bed of flowers All wet with the scented dew, That a goddess bright all robed in white, And her hair as dark as the brow of night, Then met my astonished view. And a chain of gold hung around her neck, That shone with a radiance rare, And an emerald band clasped her snow-white hand That gently was waving an airy wand, And her eye what a light shone there ? l :>> t She spoke, and her voice so silvery sweet, Like music thrilled my soul ; Stranger, said she, from whence come ye ? Have you travelled by land or the rolling sea To reach this happy goal ? Fair Queen ! I replied, and I knelt as I spoke, I come from a distant laud, Where tempests rave, and the men are brave, And their home is girt by the bounding wave, And there known as the ocean band. And I soared aloft on the wings of the wind, That thundered fierce and loud, And I steered my flight through the realm of night, And my guide was a star that twinkled bright O'er the brim of a fleecy cloud. Then she gracefully lifted her conjuring wand, And thrice she waved it on high, And a vision rare of maidens fair, With rosy cheeks and golden hail*, Like sunshine pass me by. And a zephyr sighed through the wild woods green, And played with their flowing hair, And a heavenly strain woke the dewy plain, And the echo was caught by an angel train That hovei*ed in middle air. But a dark cloud dropped, and the transient scene Like a shadow passed away, And a rustling sound swept o'er the ground I started up and I looked around, And found it another day. For the sun rode high on his heavenly course, And he darted a glorious beam O'er stream and tree, o'er hill and sea, And dancing delighted it shone on me, And roused me from my dream. 132 LINES TO A LADY. OH ! could I love as I have loved, When smiling youth first dawned on me, If through my heart the goddess roved, My love would fondly light on thee ; Thou fairest of the human race In mind, in figure, and in face. I gaze into thine eyes and think I yet could love, but for the blow That drove me to destruction's brink, And made thy kind my bitter foe ; Still there's a something in me yet I never, never can forget. Forget ! ah no, there are some things That memory loves to dwell upon, Which soften sorrow's potent stings, When softer feelings long have flown ; There is a joy in glancing back Along life's varied, rugged tract. A something shining bright and fair Amid the wastes of storm and cloud, A well-spring in the desert bare, By tempests tossed but not subdued ; A something of a heavenly birth Untouched, unstained by aught of earth. 'Tis love, first love, that tender flame Which animates youth's generous heart, 'Tis modest virtue's diadem, Free from pollution, free from art ; A passion pure, whose living glow Is felt but once on earth below. Tis not the madness of a day, That raving coxcombs would call love, 133 When kindled once it lasts for aye, A foretaste of the bliss above ; This is the feeling rich and rare, That fights and baffles dull despair. In. keenest pangs, it is a balm To conjure up some long-lost form ; 'Tis like a momentary calm Amid the battle's raging storm ; It is a treasure vast, whose store Supplies an unconsuming ore. This is the love, sweet maid, whose power Defies the turns of fortune's wheel, And cheers the gloomiest, darkest hour, A love which I for you would feel ; And bid my weary being live, If yet a heart T had to give. Though few my years, yet I have known The blackest frowns of adverse fate, E'er manhood's bloom my cheek had shown, I'd earned imperishable hate ; Which made my life a flickering flame, My strongest passion but a name. Yet I admire thy sparkling eye, And sun myself beneath its glow ; When summer winds sigh softly by, And breathe upon thy breast of snow. And when thy voice my feelings move, I fancy that I yet could love. And if such love as this again, Should burn within my breast anew, Oh say, sweet maid, would it be vain If it were centred all in you ; Could heart like thine such love e'er spurn, Would such a love meet no retiirn ? 134 MOURNING. (A tribute to the memory of JAMBS GBANT, Esq., late Editor of the Morning Advertiser.) THE lone wind sigheth low, so low, And the light from the stars hath fled, And the murmuring brook in its flow, deep flow, Sings a requiem for the dead ; For the loved, the revered, and the honoured one, Whose bright eye closed when his course was run. But it closed in a blaze of fame, bright fame, And the nations weep for thee, And hang on the sound of thy name, loved name ; While thy spirit, pure and free, Hath soared far away o'er the starry dome, To the flowery land, its own loved home. And the angels, clad in white, pure white, Rush on to the golden gate, Where Gabriel stands with a light, rare light, And seraph minstrels wait With glittering .harps, poised on airy wings, Ready to strike, and the anthem sing. They strike, and lo ! from the halls, arched halls, Fresh echoing bursts are given ; And see afar on the walls, high walls, That encircle the fields of heaven, Gay banners float in the laughing breeze That murmurs soft thrcmgh the singing trees. All, all above is glad, so glad That the spirit hath left the clay ; And all below is sad, so sad That the soul hath fled for aye ; That the manly voice that charmed of yore Is hushed and still, and for evermore. 135 And the lone mist weepeth wild, so wild, As it wreathes its tortured form ; And Scotia weeps for her child, dear child, And her voice, like the rising storm, Is heard afar, and the nations quake, The forests nod, and the mountains shake. And the oceans weep, and their roar, wild roar, Is heard by the naiads deep As the billows moan on the shore, loved shore, Where the ashes of the wept-for sleep ; And they too weep in their coral caves, And mingle their voice with the sounding waves. And the wild flowers weep on thy grave, lone grave. And the birds sing notes of woe ; And I, too, weep, yes, weep and rave, For the friend of the long ago. All weep in vain, you have passed away, And reached your home in eternal day. AN APPEAL. AND is it so 1 Can a form so fair Conceal a heart of stone ? Can a meek request no pardon share No words of mine atone ? For the fault of an hoxir, an hour of woe, An hour which the thoughtless ne'er can know. Think well ; though bright be thy maiden eye, It yet may shed a tear ; Though the past may be fair as the summer sky, And the present doubly dear, The mists of the future conceal a dart That may pierce thy breast, and reach thy heart. 136 It is summer now. and the wild birds aing, And the daisies deck the lea ; The green woods all with glad echoes ring, And the busy, humming bee, On glistening wing, sips the scented flower To nourish its young in the gloomy hour. All nature is glad, and the sunbeams kiss The rippling wavelets' breast ; And the lusty trout enjoys the bliss, And suns itself to rest In streams that ever onward roll To the mighty deep, their boundless goal. But the winter will come, with its snow and showers, And blight the daisies' bloom ; And the humming bee in its nest will cower When the fire-flies lit the gloom, And the song birds chirp 'mong the woodlands sere, O'er the hoary rocks, and the moorlands drear. And the flashing stream will be frozen o'er, And the shivering trout will shrink As the wind sweeps past with sullen roar, And snow wi'eaths heap the brink. Thus beauty lives like a fleeting ray That is flashed from the eye of the golden day. And thine will fade, and thy speaking eye Will dim as time sweeps on ; And thy graceful form, so stately high, Will bend when the summer is gone ; Then, then you will think of the merciless blow That laid the young hopes of a true heart low. And the wind and the rain, the frost and the snow Will beat on thy withering cheek ; And the sprightly step of the long ago Will be changed for the slow and weak ; Then, then will you think of the bard, and the hour When depression grim ruled with tyrant power. 137 Then think, maiden, think, ere the dying day Is lost, and for ever gone ; Let thy proud eye flash one pitying ray On the path of the weary and lone ; 'Tis the task of beauty to soothe and heal, Then listen, O listen to a last appeal. TO THE RISING SUN. GLORIOUS orb of the eastern sky, Pouring thy rich and golden light On fields, and meadows, and mountains high, Chasing the dreary sullen night, Waking the lark on the dewy lea, Where, O where can thy bright home be ? Darting thy rays through the dark recess, Flashing along o'er the ocean vast, Deeper dyeing the daisy's dress, Kissing the brooklet wimpling past, Dancing in beauty gay and free, Where, O where can thy bright home be] Waking the life of the slumbering town, Catching a smile from the maiden's eye, Telling the hare on the lonely down That the sportsman's dog is hovering nigh, Chasing dark shadows from stream and sea, Where, O where can thy bright home be ? Calling glad songs from the speckled thrush, While it mocks the tones of the passer by, Halting the stag on his onward rush, To gaze with his soft and dewy eye, Rousing the hum of the labouring bee, Where, O where can thy bright home be 1 Piercing the clouds with a fiery dart, As they lazily sail through the summer sky, And the spotted trout from the waters start To catch the buzzing, glittering fly, Gilding the top of the greenwood tree, Where, O where can thy bright home be ? All nature is glad with thy beaming smile, And life starts fresh from thy magic hand, How I long to stay with thee awhile, Away, far away in thy happy land, Where my cares may cease and my sorrows flee, Then say, O say, can I dwell with thee. Answers the lord of the golden day, My home is fixed in the starry sky, My yellow light is a borrowed ray From One who reigns and rules on high From One who bled and died for thee, Now say, O say, will you dwell with me. Go, O go where the bright flowers bloom, Where the waters glide o'er the golden sand. But first you must pass through the lonely tomb Ere you reach that soft and smiling land, Then turn. O turn away from me To Him who longs and looks for thee. TWO MEETINGS. TO J. G. C. G. FIRST, where brilliant lamps are swinging, And the sparkling jewels shine, And the clash of music ringing Through the clustering wreaths of pine : Where bright yoiith and maiden blushing, Ply the dance with nimble feet, And the breath from red lips gushing, Fills the air with stifling heat. 139 There I saw her like a faiiy Dropped from out the starry sky, Robed in white, so light and airy, Like a sunbeam pass me by. Transfixed I stood for full one minute. Gazing, wondering, doubting when The music ceased, and all was silent Save the whispering of the men. Then I watched her gliding lightly, Like a bird with pinions spread, And her dark eye flashing brightly In her gi-aceful, poised head. Oft I thought on that fair vision, Sometimes sleeping, oft awake ; Though I had but little reason, Yet I thought mv heart would break. 1 stood beside a castle hoary, Sinking 'neath the weight of years. Pondering o'er the ancient story, Lo ! the vision there appears. Like a flash of glory streaming From the radiant summer sky, Health and love and beauty beaming [n her dark and glorious eye. And the sunbeams lightly kissed her : Laverocks carolled anthems sweet ; Angels hovered near and blessed her : Gowans blossomed at her feet. And the spirit of the mountains, And the nymph among the trees. And the naiad of the fountains, Borne in the stmimer breeze. uo Joined in one glad welcome greeting, Cue glad song to nature's queen ; This was all the second meeting On the dewy castle green ; Only that she smiled and bowing, Said good morning passing by, And I felt my bosom glowing With a file that cannot die. I wondered oft that if, when parting She observed my eager eye, Or the tell-tale blood that starting, Flushed my cheek as she passed by. Yes, she saw it, but she never, Never smiled on me again : And the fire that lives forever Only lives to live in vain. PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. DIM shadows, dark shadows are creeping O'er mountain, o'er moorland, and tree, Aye steadily, stealthily creeping Away o'er the heaving sea, Shutting out the gleam of the sunshine. And the love of the past from me. A light betimes of glimmering sheen Glints through from the days of yore, And throws a ray on the gulf between, Where the mists lie evermore, And with shaded eyes and stretched neck I peer at the other shore, And clutch ; but a spectre waves me back, And points through the gloom below, Tracing a shadowy twilight track, As the mists wreath to and fro ; Yet there's spots of white in that bloated track, That were left long, long ago. Hi Ha ! laugh, false friends ! they were made by me Ere that yawning gulf was crossed ; But I met a demon worse than thee ; 'Twas then that the white was lost ; And the sun, the moon, and the stars grew dark When that fiend was loved the most. Then mock me not. It was it, not I, That blasted the budding flower. It was it that glanced at the sunlit sky When the clouds began to lower ; And the past grew dim, and the shadows fell, When I fell in the demon's power. And the pangs. Oh ! the pang that wrung my heart, As the darkness shrouded me ; And I pulled in vain at the venomed dart, Then laughed with a maniac's glee ; But the hour, the hour came all too soon, And I wept that it set me free. There is a joy in the wild, wide heath, Though the sky be dark above, When the smothered sigh and the balmy breath Of those that we fondly love Are breathed. Ah ! blessed angel hours That the world knows not of. But they're false, yes, false, and the heated brain Grows weary at the sight ; But the day will come when the truth again In might will assert its right, And the sun will burst through the gathering gloom In a gleam of eternal light. Then, then will the fame of the high-souled one Sound loud o'er the floods of day ; And the bard wild sing, when the false are gone, That the true heart won the fray, And that love and genius smiled on it, A smile that will last for aye. 142 TO L 1 X Z 1 E. LADY, I have often loved, aud felt its tyrant sway ; But when the magic chain had snapped, and all had passed away, I thought a gentle maiden's smile, with all its witching art, Could never more disturb my peace, or agitate my heart. How vain the thought ! 1 love again far deeper than before A love, dear maid, that burned itself into my bosom's core ; I tried to quench the living spark ere yet it reached a flame, Alas, these humble verses tell my efforts were in vain. I love thee with a love, sweet one, no words could ere express ; My other loves fled like a dream, and left no deep impress ; But thou art fairer, lovelier, far than all the rest combined, The brightest flower on Livet's banks, the gem of womankind. Thy dark and glorious eye, sweet Liz., that beams so soft and bright, I've often watched, unseen by you, with feelings of delight ; In dreams thy ripe and dewy lips have oft by me been prest, And, sighing, clasped thy lovely form with rapture to my breast. If I had lands or glittering gold, I'd lay them at thy shrine ; But I have nothing but a heart a heart that's wholly thine. Say, could you love me, darling one ? Smile soft, and answer yes, And make the present happiness, the future shine with bliss. My heart is throbbing like to burst O ! do not say me nay. I've often braved the frowns of fate in many a gloomy day ; But, O ! I could not stand a frown shot from the hazel eye That I love better than my life, or aught beneath the sky. My nerv'less hand hath dropped the pen, and utterance now hath fled, One word alone escapes my lips, all other thoughts are dead ; 143 That word I'll sing, though I should roam o'er many a land and sea, And murmur with my latest breath, I love but thee, but thee. THE FLOWER OF FIDDOCHSIDE. AWAKE, awake, my slumbering muse, Why would'st thou idly dream When Maggie's charms remain unsung. And love's the gentle theme 1 Awake, and sing one flowing verse, And strike the chords with pride, For Maggie was the brightest flower- E'er bloomed on Fiddochside. The splendour of her matchless eye, So lovely and divine, Would dim the brightest star that shines. Or diamond from the mine. Her dewy lips, so ripe and red, Oh ! could I press them now, And clasp her gently to my breast. And breathe again the vow That last I whispered in yon glen, Then sighed a sad farewell : And that that vow hath aye been kept My aching heart can tell. And though she's wandered far away, And crossed the foaming tide ; Yet still my heart for Maggie beats. The flower of Fiddochside. 144 A BATTLE FI ELD. HARK ! do you hear that dismal boom, Like peals of distant thunder ! It comes with the speed of a lightning flash When rocks are rent asunder. Nearer it comes, and nearer still, Hark, hark ! to the maddening cry ; Now all is silent again it bursts In sounds that rend the sky. See, see ! advancing across the plain A dark red mass of men, And look ! on the left, with the speed of the wind, Comes the fleet artillery train. But who are they on the distant heights, Sullenly drawing back 1 'Tis the foreign foe that hath felt the force Of the British rifle's ci~ack. But another sight meets the startled gaze ; Look on the crimsoned ground Where the mangled bodies of friends and foes Are thickly strewn around, Who, an hour before, were full of life, And patriot's hopes were high, With a deathless name on the page of fame, Ne'er thinking death was nigh. The tyrant grim, with his iron grasp. Seized each one in his turn, Leaving the fatherless child to weep, The widowed mother to mourn. And this is the pomp and pride of war, This the reward of the brave, Who have followed the fleeting phantom Fame, To find in the end a grave. 145 LIFE. LIFE is a fitful fevered dream, A bubble in time's mighty stream That moves but for a day, Then bursts and mingles with the waves, And nought remains but silent graves, Containing shapeless clay. The mightiest minds e'er known to fame, Where are they now ? there's but a name Last mark of all their pride That bubbles brighter than the rest, Had skimmed awhile the ocean's breast, Then sank beneath the tide. The highest honours, wealth, and power, Are but the pleasures of an hour, And all the earth can give, Like morning vapours melt away, When rises bright the orb of day The soul can only live. Men's titles, be they e'er so high, Or yet the glance of beauty's eye, Cannot avert the thrust ; When the destroyer 'gins to ride He sti'ikes the mightiest in their pride, And bids the heartstrings burst. Then what is Life, if noiight but this, An hour of woe, an hour of bliss, Then in oblivion rest ; If higher hopes had ne'er been given, Of vast eternity in heaven, What thoughts would fill our breast ? When all the empires of the past Shall wake when thrills the trumpet's blast, With trembling and with fear, 146 And through the air red meteors roll, That shake the earth from pole to pole- Then, then, man's doom is near. And Time itself shall fade away, And yet the soul know no decay In happiness or woe ; The anthems of the just shall rise, And echo through the trembling skies When time hath ceased to flow. Then gaze beyond this transient shade, Where happiness but blooms to fade, And pleasures ever fly, And fix upon the distant goal, The home of the immortal soul, And be prepared to die. THE END. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which It was borrowed. Form L9- 3 1158 00238 2462 A 000994217