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CONTENTS
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Electric Scotland News
The Flag in the Wind
The Complete Scotland
Holiday Cottages
The Concise Household Encyclopaedia
Gairloch in North-West Ross-Shire
The Starling, A Scotch Story
The Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal
Dr Margaret MacKellar
Hector MacKinnon, A Memoir (New Book)
Clan MacNaughton
A Legend of Loch Maree
Clearance of the Highland Glens
Electric Scotland News
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Well as you can imagine our focus has been on our Electric Scotland Community this week trying to ensure all is working as it should.
We are now re-directing anyone going to our www.scotchat.org domain (the old Aois community) to our new community at http://www.electricscotland.org
Known issues at this time are...
We hit problems with our new member system in that too many entries were for "Unregistered" members. And so this add-on has been taken down until we can find a fix and then it will return.
Our Postcard program is still not able to send out postcards. Steve thinks he knows what the problem is and is working on it.
We got reports that the public picture galleries are not viewable. This is because the Photo Host program was broken with an upgrade of our software. We hope this will be fixed in the next week or two when we'll bring it back.
We have a Facebook interface that is not yet working as we have to get a certain number of members to do something or other so we can generate a key to get this working. If you are a member and also a member of facebook please let us know and we'll send you instructions on how to enable our Facebook link. Once we have enough members signed up the Facebook link will work for everyone.
This newsletter is now available in our community and we note that some 380 folk viewed it last week. We'd encourage you to become a member of the community and then you can subscribe to the forum and get an email alert when a new issue is posted. It's likely that we will discontinue this list in the next few weeks.
We got a few email messages in saying you found it difficult to register and especially with being able to read the captcha letters. We actually got a message in from a visually impared person who thanked us for making the registration so easy. They used the audio feature in the captcha system which made it easy for that person to complete the registration. And so if you are still having problems you might try this audio method.
At this time we have a final manual process before your account gets activated. We are doing our best to deny known spammers from getting an account and so have signed up to a known spammers service to automatically check your email address with this list. The reason for the manual part is that we are doing a manual check to see how effective this is. Should it prove to be sufficiently accurate then we'll stop the manual check process.
Due to the manual checking it does mean it could take some hours before you receive an activation email from us. This to a certain extent depends on the time of day that you register as we may have just gone to bed when you registered.
Overall we are very happy with the volume of new messages going into the community but of course we hope that we get a lot more members signing up and participating.
And talking of messages there is some great reading in the community. I was trying to find out more information on a Captain Ross who owned the Cocus islands near Australia and due to posting a message about him we got lots of good information in. I learned about him while reading the book of Joshua Slocum and his solo sail around the world where he put up in the islands.
We do plan to add other features to the community in the weeks ahead as the add-ons become stable. One of the problems with the current system is that it is relatively new and so when the company issues an update it is breaking various add-ons so we're having to be very careful in selecting ones that are updated within 24 hours. This will get better in the weeks ahead as the product matures.
We will also be working on our Front Page which is a CMS (Content Management System) to make it more up to date with what is happening in our community.
In the Main Group of our Forums we have a Widget forum which is read only but does contain a few interesting widgets which you can use. Currently there is UK Radio and TV, Currency Convertor, Google Maps, Selkirk Grace, UK Train Journey Planner, and BBC News.
We have added a Heraldry forum as well to our Clans, Families and Genealogy Group. And also a New Products forum into our Lifestyle Group.
And that brings you up to date on what is going on.
We hope many of you will want to register as members and help to build the community to be a great place for Scots at home and abroad to touch base with each other.
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I got quite a few emails in asking how my eye surgery went and pleased to say they fixed the problem and managed to remove the blood from my left eye and so my vision has been restored. I still need to take eye drops for the next 2 weeks but looks like all is well.
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I have also been very active on re-formatting a lot of pages on the site where I used the new Web Expressions software to publish to the site. I discovered that using Firefox and the Google Chrome browser that these pages were showing very differently to what I saw with IE 8. The text was much smaller than it should have been. This is taking up a lot of my time and hence less content going up than normal. I hope to complete the edit of all the known pages in the next week but should you come across a page on the site that simply doesn't look right please email me with the page url and I'll get it fixed.
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We've all been sweltering in Ontario this week with temperatures in the 30's but over 40 when you factor in the humidity. Just glad I have central air in the house and an air conditioned car. It's actually the humidity that gets to me rather than the heat.
ABOUT THE STORIES
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Some of the stories in here are just parts of a larger story so do check out the site for the full versions. You can always find the link in our "What's New" section in our site menu and at http://www.electricscotland.com/rss/whatsnew.php
THE FLAG IN THE WIND
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This weeks issue is compiled by Jennifer Dunn.
You can read his compilation at http://www.scotsindependent.org
The Working Life of Christina McKelvie MSP diary entry for this week can be viewed at
http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...lvie/index.htm
Should add that as Parliament is now on Summer break that we might not hear from Christina for a wee while.
The Complete Scotland
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A comprehensive survey, based on the principle motor, walking, railway and steamer routes. Historical section by J.D. Mackie, M.C., M.A. Professor of Scottish History and Literature and the University of Glasgow and geology and scenery by T.M. Finlay, M.A., D.Sc., F.R.S.E., University of Edinburgh.
Added this week...
The Great Glen
You can read this at http://www.electricscotland.com/trav...land/index.htm
Holiday Cottages
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These are wee tourism articles. Got in this week...
Events and Festivals in Scotland.
This can be read at http://www.electricscotland.com/travel/holidayndx.htm
The Concise Household Encyclopaedia
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Added Page 392, Dried Fruit, Driers, Drills and Drilling Methods, Page 393, Drill, Page 394. Drill, Drinking, Page 395, Dripping, Driving, Dropsy, Dropwort, Drought, Drowning, Drug, Drugget, Drunkenness. These can be read at http://www.electricscotland.com/household/d.htm
Gairloch in North-West Ross-Shire
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It's Records, Traditions, Inhabitants and Natural History with a Guide to Gairloch and Loch Maree and a Map and Illustrations" by John H. Dixon FSA Scot. published in 1886.
We're onto Part II and added this week...
Chapter XIV.—Witchcraft and Magic
Chapter XV.—Visions and Second-sight
Chapter XVI.—Bards and Pipers
Chapter XVII.—Hereditary Pipers of the Gairloch Family
Chapter XVIII.—William Mackenzie and Malcolm Maclean
Chapter XIX.—William Ross, the Gairloch Bard
Chapter XX.—Alexander Campbell, Bard to Sir Hector
Here is chaper XVIII to read here...
TWO of the older bards of Gairloch deserve a chapter to themselves.
William Mackenzie, the Gairloch and Loch Broom catechist, was commonly called "An Ceistear Crubach," or "the lame catechist," owing to his being lame of a leg. He was a native of the parish of Gairloch, and was born about 1670. He seems to have been a poet of no mean order. In his early years he had the reputation of being a serious young man; he committed to memory the Shorter Catechism in Gaelic, and was afterwards for seven years employed in the capacity of perambulatory catechist at a small salary. On one occasion in the dead of winter a tremendous storm overtook him, and he was driven to seek the shelter of a rock. He was fortunately discovered, and conveyed on horseback to the house of Mr Mackenzie of Balone, where he experienced the greatest kindness. Here he saw a beautiful young lady, his host's sister, who afterwards became Mrs Mackenzie of Kernsary, and, inspired by her charms, he composed a celebrated song of great poetic merit.
He happened to be in Strath, Gairloch, at the time of a wedding, to which however he was not invited. Being joined by some others who had suffered the same indignity, and who brought a bottle of whisky with them, he forgot the sacredness of his office, and as the glass went round composed a satirical song lampooning the newly-married couple and their relations and guests. The song eked out. The ministers shook their heads, and condemned the profanity of their catechist from their pulpits. He was dragged before the kirk-session and severely cross-examined. One or two of his judges espoused his cause, and insisted that he should recite the obnoxious song. "I can repeat no song," said the bard, "unless I accompany the words with an air, and to sing here would be altogether unbecoming." This obstacle was, however, got over, and Mackenzie sang the song with great glee, while his judges could not restrain their laughter. However he was dismissed from being catechist, and was never restored to the post. He died at a good old age, and was buried in Creagan an Inver of Meikle Gruinard, on the northern confines of the parish of Gairloch.
Malcolm M'Lean, called "Callum a Ghlinne," or "Callum of the glen," was a native of Kenlochewe. His reputation as a bard rests entirely on a celebrated song he composed in praise of his own daughter. It is the only example of his genius now extant. He was fond of singing the songs of other poets, and had an excellent voice. As a young man he enlisted in the army, and after serving a number of years was allowed a small pension on his discharge. He became a crofter in his native country, and married a woman of exemplary patience and resignation. He is described as a bacchanalian of the first magnitude, and by his intemperance reduced his wife and daughter to miserable poverty. The daughter, his only child, was of uncommon beauty, but for want of dowry was for a long time unwooed and unmarried. In his later years his drinking habits became more notorious than ever, and when he was seen approaching an inn the local topers left their work and trooped about him. No wonder the resignation of his poor wife, under such circumstances,. is proverbial in Gairloch. He died about the year 1764.
Professor Blackie has made a spirited translation of Malcolm Maclean's song, which with the Professor's kind consent is given below.
The forgiving gentleness of Malcolm's wife is recorded in the following story:—Malcolm had occasion to go to Dingwall on a summer day for a boll of oatmeal; he took a grey horse with him. On his way, with just enough cash in his pocket to pay for the meal, he entered an inn, where he met a Badenoch drover, who proved to be a boon companion. The two continued drinking together for some time; the bard at length spent the last sixpence of his meal money. Thinking, no doubt, of the awkwardness of returning without the meal, he remarked, "If I had more money, I would not go home for some time yet." "That's easily got; I'll buy the grey horse from you," replied the drover. The bargain was speedily concluded, and the money paid. The well-seasoned poet continued the "spree,'" until at length the price of the grey horse was gone too. "Now,'" said he, "I must go." "But how," said the drover, "can you face your wife?" "My wife!" said the poet, "she's the woman that never said, nor will say worse to me than, God bless you, Malcolm.''" "I'll bet you the price of the horse and the meal," replied the drover,. "that her greeting will be very different." "Done!" eagerly shouted Malcolm, grasping the other's hand. Away they went, with the landlord and two other men to witness the bard's reception by his wife. He staggered into his dwelling, where he would have fallen into-the open fire, had not his wife caught him in her arms, exclaiming, "God bless you, Malcolm." "But I have neither brought meal nor money," said the bard. "We will soon get more money and meal too," replied the wife. "But I have also drunk the grey horse," said he. "What matter, my love," she said, "since you are alive and well." It was enough: the drover had to count down the money; and it was not long before the patient wife had the satisfaction of hailing her husband's return with both horse and meal.
Callum o' the Glen
Chorus.
My bonnie dark maid,
My precious, my pretty,
I'll sing in your praise
A light-hearted ditty;
Fair daughter whom none
Had the sense yet to marry;
And I'll tell you the cause
Why their love did miscarry,
My bonnie dark maid!
I.
For sure thou art beautiful,
Faultless to see;
No malice can fasten
A blot upon thee.
Thy bosom's soft whiteness
The seagull may shame,
And for thou art lordless
Tis I am to blame.
II.
And indeed I am sorry,
My fault I deplore,
Who won thee no tocher
By swelling my store;
With drinking and drinking
My tin slipped away,
And so there's small boast
Of my sporran to-day.
III.
While I sit at the board,
Well seasoned with drinking,
And wish for the thing
That lies nearest my thinking,
'Tis the little brown jug
That my eye will detain,
And when once I have seen it
I'd see it again!
IV.
The men of the country
May jeer and may gibe,
That I rank with the penniless
Beggarly tribe;
But though few are my cattle,
I'll still find a way
For a drop in my bottle,
Till I'm under the clay.
V.
There's a grumpy old fellow,
As proud as a king,
Whose lambs will be dying
By scores in the spring,
Drinks three bottles a year,
Most sober of men,
But dies a poor sinner
Like Callum o' Glen.
VI.
When I'm at the market,
With a dozen like me
Of proper good fellows
That love barley-bree,
I sit round the table,
And drink without fear,
For my good-wife says only,
"God bless you, my dear!"
VII.
Though I'm poor, what of that?
I can live and not steal,
Though pinched at a time
By the high price of meal.
There's good luck with God,
And He gives without measure;
And while He gives health,
I can pay for my pleasure.
VIII.
Very true that my drink
Makes my money go quicker;
Yet I'll not take a vow
To dispense with good liquor:
In my own liquid way
I'd be great amongst men,—
Now you know what to think
Of good Callum o' Glen.
You can read all these chapters at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...loch/g2ndx.htm
The Starling, A Scotch Story
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By Normal MacLeod D.D. (1877)
We've posted other books by this author and also a biography about him. He was a well know personality during his lifetime and also chaplan to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.
This week we've added the following chapters...
Chapter XX
Jock Hall's Return
Chapter XXI
The Quack
Chapter XXII
Corporal Dick
Chapter XXIII
Corporal Dick at the Manse
Chapter XXIV
Dr Scott and his Servant
Chapter XXV
Mr. Smellie's Diplomacy
Chapter XXVI
The Starling again in Danger
Here is how the chapter on Corporal Dick starts...
CORPORAL DICK, who lived in the village of Darnic, several hours' journey by the "Highflyer" coach from Drumsylie, came at this time to pay his annual visit to the Sergeant.
The Corporal, while serving in the same regiment with Adam, had been impressed, as we have, already indicated, by the Christian character of his comrade. Those early impressions had been deepened shortly after his return home from service. We need not here record the circumstances in which this decided change in his sentiments and character had taken place. Many of our Scotch readers, at least, have heard of the movement in the beginning of this century by the devoted Haldanes, who, as gentlemen of fortune, and possessing the sincerest and strongest Christian convictions, broke the formality which was freezing Christian life in many a district of Scotland. They did the same kind of work for the Church in the North which Wesley and Whitfield had done for that in the South, though with less permanent results as far as this world is concerned. Dick joined the "Haldaneites." Along with all the zeal and strictness characteristic of a small body, he possessed a large share of bonhomie, and of the freedom, subdued and regulated, of the old soldier.
At these annual visits the old veterans fought their battles over again, recalling old comrades and repeating old stories; neither, however, being old in their affections or their memories. But never had the Corporal .visited his friend with a more eager desire to "hear his news" than on the present occasion. He had often asked people from Drumsylie, whom he happened to meet, what all this disputing and talk about Adam Mercer meant? And every new reply he received to his question, whether favourable or unfavourable to the Sergeant, only puzzled him the more. One thing, however, he never could be persuaded of— that his friend Adam Mercer would do anything unbecoming to his "superior officer," as he called the minister; or "break the Sabbath," an institution which, like every good Scotchman, he held in peculiar veneration; or be art or part in any mutiny against the ordinances or principles of true religion. And yet, how could he account for all that had been told him by "decent folk" and well-informed persons? The good he heard of the Sergeant was believed in by the Corporal as a matter of course; but what of the evil, which seemed to rest upon equally reliable authority?
Dick must himself hear the details of the "affair," or the battle, as it might turn out.
It was therefore a glad day for both Adam and the Corporal when they again met;—to both a most pleasant change of thought—a glad remembrance of a grand old time already invested with romance—a meeting of men of character, of truth and honour, who could call each other by the loyal name of Friend.
We must allow the reader to fill up the outline which alone we can give of the meeting—the hearty greetings between the two old companions in arms; the minute questions by the one, the full and candid answers by the other; the smiling Katie ever and anon filling up the vacancies left in the narrative of ecclesiastical trials by the Sergeant, from his modesty or want of memory; the joyous satisfaction of Dick, as he found his faith in his comrade vindicated, and saw how firm and impregnable he was in his position, without anything to shake any Christian's confidence in his long-tried integrity, courage, and singleness of heart.
You can read the rest of this chapter at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist.../chapter22.htm
These chapters can be read at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...ling/index.htm
The Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal
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This is the very first volume of this journal which I thought would make interesting reading. We've added more chapters this week...
Notes and Queries
Ascent of Ben Alder
Sgurr Alaisdair
An April Day in The Blackmount
The Ben More Trio
Ben Ghlas and Ben Lawers
The Highlands of Galloway
Here is the "Ascent of Ben Alder" BY PROFESSOR RAMSAY, for you to read here...
MR Storr'S graphic account of his ascent of Ben Alder, in the May number of this Journal, took the piece out of my mouth, for I had set my heart upon doing that very trip that month, and on opening up a route to that most commanding of Scotch mountains to my brethren of the Club. It is the peak of the central Highlands, standing "severely alone,"—the very of that glorious moorland region which stretches unbroken from Ben Macdhui to Ben Nevis, from Schiehallion to Loch Ness, and which counts the great Moor of Rannoch as a mere incident on its surface.
Not easy to get at; the very sanctuary of a great deer forest, or rather of several deer forests; no inn nearer than Dalwhinnie and Loch Laggan; no right of way any direction; guarded jealously on the only hopeful side by an impassable forest lodge, and even that only to be reached by six miles of private road, running along the steep northern banks of Loch Ericht.
I had explored all round it in August 1889, and returned baffled, like King Turnus in his attempt to turn the Trojan camp. "Come back in May," said Mrs Macdonald, the obliging landlady at Dalwhinnie, "we'll send you down the loch in a boat, with two days' provisions, and maybe the keeper at the west end will put you up."
So when our indefatigable colleague, H. T. Munro, looked in on the glorious afternoon of 22nd May last, and finding me deep in fusty books, said, "Let's have a walk ""No spot on earth," I answered, "shall drag me from these invaluable researches, save only the top of Ben Alder." "A bargain," was his reply. So off we went by first train in the morning; telegrams enough sent on to commissariat a regiment; but, alas! we discovered at Dalwhinnie that of the two cottages on Loch Ericht one was full of men making a new deer path; the other was standing empty between an out-flitting and an in-flitting keeper, each with his whole chattels on board of a boat, in the bay. In vain we drove, with a well-packed hamper, to the Forest Lodge of Loch Ericht itself (six miles), hoping to melt the heart of Baron Schröder's housekeeper into giving us beds; we were spurned from the door, had to drive back ingloriously to Dalwhinnie, and have our hamper unpacked, and turned into supper, shortly before midnight.
But we did our peak next day. A short sweet walk to the loch; a slow pull over dancing water, in keen bright air; the south side of the loch dark with steep rocks; the north side bright with young larches and occasional bursts of broom in full flower.
In two hours we land close by the Loch Ericht Lodge. We pass in front of its inhospitable windows, and striking away from the loch due West (Loch Ericht runs from N.E. to S.W.), cross a charming low pass, which leads to the headwaters of Glen Pattack, a wild, solitary glen, which runs down due North to Loch Laggan. Up this pass, and down Glen Pattack beyond it, there is an old road, with a right of way. A climb of half an hour brings us to the top of the pass, where we have a lovely view of Loch Pattack in front, a huge basin of flat, wettish moor at its head to our left, with the grand buttresses of Ben Alder and Ben Aonach springing out of it on its far side. To the right, down. Glen Pattack, runs the track to Loch Laggan. Deserting it at this point, we follow a well-made deer-path, which carries us high and dry across the swampy ground at the head of Loch Pattack—which we leave well to our right or northern hand—and straight to the foot of the grand north buttress of Ben Alder.
Here we stop for lunch at 12.40, having left Loch Ericht at II; and after half-an-hour's halt go straight up the edge of the arête described in Mr Stott's paper, reaching the top of the shoulder at 2.20, and the cairn itself (3,77 feet) at 2.50. This arête—whose Gaelic name means "the steep of the ladder "—deserves all Mr Stott's encomiums. It is a real bit of climbing; a good knife-edge of rocks, sometimes natural out-crop, sometimes loosely piled in chips as big as horse-boxes, falling straight and steep on either side, calling hand as well as foot into play, and presenting here and there some genuine bits for negotiation, with that delightful sense, at each point gained, that one may be baffled after all.
The view from the top is superb; but alas! we did not see it. Just one hour before we reached Mr Stott's "croft" of thirty acres (very big acres!) at the top, those glorious three weeks of May weather came to an end; and we saw the beginning of the wet summer of 1889 creeping along in the shape of fleecy Atlantic wreaths—from Ben Nevis onwards, from one top to another, till before evening everything was blurred with mist and rain.
Leaving the summit at 3.30, we made a grand sweep round the main ridge of the mountain, which presents a crescent to the north-east. It slopes easily to the west, but plunges in grand precipices on the eastern side into the corries which form the north-east face which we had first sighted across Glen Pattack. On this side the snow was still piled up to a great depth. There were some fine cornices, melted at some points into sharp snow-edges, at others broken off from the rock faces against which they had drifted by veritable berg-schrunds. After some delightful larking in this snow world, we descended easily by the long south-east arête to a point just below the mist, and overhanging the highly perched Loch a' Bhealaich Bheithe (2,347 feet). From this point—after a grand wrangle over the names to be given to the splendid panorama of peaks which rise over the Moor of Rannoch from Ben Cruachan to Ben More—we leave Beinn Bheoil on our left, and rush down a steep but easy descent to the shores of Loch Ericht, which we reach at 5.40, at a point about two miles east of the keeper's house known as Ben Alder Lodge. Two hours' pleasant walk along the loch side, on another good deer-path, brings us within sight of our boat, hovering about to catch a sight of us; and by ten o'clock we are back at Dalwhinnie, after about as charming a day of wild and yet easy walking as Scotland can afford. Less than nine hours' walking, with abundant halts, sufficed for the expedition.
Two slight inaccuracies in Mr Stott's paper may be noted. The Pattack does not flow into the Spey, but through Loch Laggan, and so into the sea at Fort-William; and the "lancet-edged hill" (p. 73) is not Cam Dearg, but a spur of Aonach Beag or Aonach Bea, "the little lump" which lies immediately to the south of Loch an Sgoir.
The other chapters can be read at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...ring/index.htm
Dr Margaret MacKellar
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The story of her early years by B. Chone Oliver (1929)
We have now completed this book with the following chapters available...
Chapter I - Childhood
Chapter II - Girlhood
Chapter III - A Soul's Awakening
Chapter IV - Letting Her Light Shine
Chapter V - The Missionary Call
Chapter VI - College Days
Chapter VII - Designation and Departure for India
Chapter VIII - Service in India
Chapter IX - Later Years
You can read this book at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...ckellarndx.htm
Hector MacKinnon, A Memoir
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By his wife (Martha Johnston [Adamson] MacKinnon) (1914)
We have several chapters up now for you to read but thought I'd include the first chapter for you to read here...
"Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight!
Make me a child again, just for to-night!"
IT is now eleven months since he was taken from us —time enough perhaps for many to be beginning to forget. But for the generation who knew him, there can be no forgetting of Hector Mackinnon, the universally loved minister and friend. Numerous requests have been made to us in these months to publish, at least, his later sermons; and on its becoming known that this is impossible, we are still urged to give to his many friends some token "for remembrance."
It is well known what he did in his twenty-two years of Christian service as a minister; but only to those near and dear to him is it known what he really was— "a man tender and strong," a deeply loving and truly lovable follower of the Master he served.
He was born on August 4, 1866, in the Island of Tiree, "the little kingdom just emerging from the waves." It seems only a short time since we all wandered together there, on happy holiday, and he drew our attention one day to the spot where stood the house in which he was born. Within a stone's throw of the place are to be seen the well-preserved ruins of two Columban churches, silent but eloquent memorials of a time when the Island of Tiree was closely associated with Iona, then the centre of learning and scholarship. Often had he told us of the beauties of his native island; and as we wandered, now knee- deep in gorgeously coloured summer flowers, now traversing a soft carpet of green, white, purple, blue and gold, while a gentle breeze wafted the sweet scent of wild thyme, myrtle and heather, we felt it was good to be there—a "lovesome spot" of nature's own making.
Hard by, and still beneath the shadow of the old churches, and within sound of the surges of the Atlantic, is the homestead he loved so well, known as the Lodge Farm, to which his parents removed when he was quite a child, and where his mother, brothers and sisters still live. He was the eldest of a family of eleven, four girls and seven boys; and his mother used to say, in Gaelic, how she "brooded" more over this one, her first-born, than over all the rest.
Both his parents were God-fearing people; and he sometimes told how as a boy he had often been brought to a standstill in the midst of his play around the farm by overhearing his father praying aloud in the barn for him. All his life he never forgot that, and was tenderly reminiscent over it.
His father, as the writer knew him, was a gentle, saintly old man; and the sight of him at evening worship, standing erect, with uplifted face and arms outstretched, pleading, interceding, reasoning in the soft, plaintive Gaelic tongue, was something to be remembered, His stalwart Sons knelt around him, and, worship over, all talked together in the most natural, unrestrained manner on topics religious or otherwise. But the centre of the group was always the Minister-son from the city. It is not too much to say that he was looked up to and adored by all his brothers and sisters.
One other vision of his father cannot be shut out. The morning of our departure having come, the horses ready waiting, and all gathered outside the door for leave-taking, in the hushed, mysterious stillness of the early dawn murmured regretful good-byes would be spoken, and then quite suddenly the old man would be missed from the group. Those who cared to look could see him round the corner of the house, wiping his eyes in a shame-faced, furtive way. Presently he would join the others, and wave a bright farewell as we drove out of sight. It always happened so. The same unspoken thought was in each mind, and the Minister would clasp his own little sons all the closer as we journeyed on. By and by there came a day when, in the midst of his many labours, the swift message was brought to the manse that the Minister's father had been called home. Then he wept like a little child. And between the pages of his Bible, the one he kept for private use, there lies, just as he left it, his father's photograph, along with a newspaper appreciation of him.
When Hector Mackinnon was seven years of age, he was sent to school at Scarnish, two miles distant from his home. On the first day of his attendance he was carried to and from the school on his father's back! Later on he attended the school at Cornaig, much farther away. Sometimes he would ride thither on one of his father's horses, and on reaching their destination, the horse's head would be turned, and it would find its way home alone, returning again for him in the afternoon. He was a bright, diligent scholar, eager to learn, and loved his books. In all his studies at this time he had the able and sympathetic assistance, and encouragement of the schoolmaster, Mr. Donald Mackinnon. He never forgot in after years how much he owed to his early teacher. It was like a fairy tale to hear him tell his own boys of his early school career, which he did, however, only on very rare occasions. There was no boasting; and when he mentioned the fact that he had gained bursaries amounting in all to very nearly £500, he would add, "But you know, sonny, it was not because of any special cleverness in Daddy; it was just that he worked hard."
At the age of fifteen he won his first bursary, and was sent to Raining's School, Inverness, for two years. Here he lived in lodgings, and when he felt lonely or dull, he would take his books and wander up and down on the banks of the Ness, reciting and committing to memory. He had a marvellously retentive memory, and never forgot what had once been carefully committed. Some few years ago we stood with him outside his old lodging, and on the banks of the river, where as a boy he had been wont to roll off his pages from the poets. How it all came back to him! And how little we dreamed it was to be for the last time.
It was during his schooldays at Inverness that he formed friendships the golden links of which were never broken. Writing from England three days after Mr. Mackinnon's sudden home-call, one of his boyhood's friends says :-
"The duration of my hero-worship (I use the phrase in its literal sense) goes back to the Raining's School days, at which place I arrived on the eve of his departure for Edinburgh University. The kindness and generosity I experienced at that time made a lasting impression upon me; and always since those times—at your home in Campbeltown or in Glasgow—contact with him but increased the gratification I felt in being a friend of Mr. Hector Mackinnon."
And amongst our most cherished possessions are the tributes paid to his memory by others who were his schoolfellows at this time.
At the end of two years he left Raining's School for the University, with a certificate from Dr. McBain, the head master, stating that he was the best equipped boy who had ever entered Raining's School, and one of the best scholars to leave it. No account of his Inverness schooldays would be complete without mention of the late Rev. Dr. Mackenzie, of Kingussie, who showed him much kindness, and with whom a life-long friendship was maintained.
It was a proud and happy day in the far-off island home when the boy returned from school with the news that in two months' time he was to go as a student to Edinburgh University. And the busy mother worked early and late to get his "things ready" for life in the great city; and, like all good mothers, she would have much in her heart of which she could not speak. His father, fearing his son's health might suffer through overstudy, would often send him out to the hills to look after the sheep. On such occasions he would invariably be found lying amongst the heather, deep in the study of Homer or Virgil, while the sheep were straying! But afterwards, when he had been called from the sheepfolds to be a shepherd of souls; thank God, he kept through all the years untiring and faithful watch to the very last.
You can read the other chapters at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...ckinnonndx.htm
Clan MacNaughton
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I found a wee reference to the formation of the Clan MacNaughton Association in an old copy of the Celtic Magazine vol 3. You can read this at http://www.electricscotland.com/webclans/m/macnach.html
A Legend of Loch Maree
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I found this account in volume 3 of the old Celtic Magazine which I extracted into a pdf file and placed on the Gairloch and Loch Maree project page at http://www.electricscotland.com/history/gairloch
Clearance of the Highland Glens
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By Colin Chisholm (pdf) from an article in volume 3 of the Celtic Magazine which can be read at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...clearances.pdf
And that's it for now and hope you all have a good weekend :-)
Alastair
http://www.electricscotland.com
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Electric Scotland News
The Flag in the Wind
The Complete Scotland
Holiday Cottages
The Concise Household Encyclopaedia
Gairloch in North-West Ross-Shire
The Starling, A Scotch Story
The Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal
Dr Margaret MacKellar
Hector MacKinnon, A Memoir (New Book)
Clan MacNaughton
A Legend of Loch Maree
Clearance of the Highland Glens
Electric Scotland News
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Well as you can imagine our focus has been on our Electric Scotland Community this week trying to ensure all is working as it should.
We are now re-directing anyone going to our www.scotchat.org domain (the old Aois community) to our new community at http://www.electricscotland.org
Known issues at this time are...
We hit problems with our new member system in that too many entries were for "Unregistered" members. And so this add-on has been taken down until we can find a fix and then it will return.
Our Postcard program is still not able to send out postcards. Steve thinks he knows what the problem is and is working on it.
We got reports that the public picture galleries are not viewable. This is because the Photo Host program was broken with an upgrade of our software. We hope this will be fixed in the next week or two when we'll bring it back.
We have a Facebook interface that is not yet working as we have to get a certain number of members to do something or other so we can generate a key to get this working. If you are a member and also a member of facebook please let us know and we'll send you instructions on how to enable our Facebook link. Once we have enough members signed up the Facebook link will work for everyone.
This newsletter is now available in our community and we note that some 380 folk viewed it last week. We'd encourage you to become a member of the community and then you can subscribe to the forum and get an email alert when a new issue is posted. It's likely that we will discontinue this list in the next few weeks.
We got a few email messages in saying you found it difficult to register and especially with being able to read the captcha letters. We actually got a message in from a visually impared person who thanked us for making the registration so easy. They used the audio feature in the captcha system which made it easy for that person to complete the registration. And so if you are still having problems you might try this audio method.
At this time we have a final manual process before your account gets activated. We are doing our best to deny known spammers from getting an account and so have signed up to a known spammers service to automatically check your email address with this list. The reason for the manual part is that we are doing a manual check to see how effective this is. Should it prove to be sufficiently accurate then we'll stop the manual check process.
Due to the manual checking it does mean it could take some hours before you receive an activation email from us. This to a certain extent depends on the time of day that you register as we may have just gone to bed when you registered.
Overall we are very happy with the volume of new messages going into the community but of course we hope that we get a lot more members signing up and participating.
And talking of messages there is some great reading in the community. I was trying to find out more information on a Captain Ross who owned the Cocus islands near Australia and due to posting a message about him we got lots of good information in. I learned about him while reading the book of Joshua Slocum and his solo sail around the world where he put up in the islands.
We do plan to add other features to the community in the weeks ahead as the add-ons become stable. One of the problems with the current system is that it is relatively new and so when the company issues an update it is breaking various add-ons so we're having to be very careful in selecting ones that are updated within 24 hours. This will get better in the weeks ahead as the product matures.
We will also be working on our Front Page which is a CMS (Content Management System) to make it more up to date with what is happening in our community.
In the Main Group of our Forums we have a Widget forum which is read only but does contain a few interesting widgets which you can use. Currently there is UK Radio and TV, Currency Convertor, Google Maps, Selkirk Grace, UK Train Journey Planner, and BBC News.
We have added a Heraldry forum as well to our Clans, Families and Genealogy Group. And also a New Products forum into our Lifestyle Group.
And that brings you up to date on what is going on.
We hope many of you will want to register as members and help to build the community to be a great place for Scots at home and abroad to touch base with each other.
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I got quite a few emails in asking how my eye surgery went and pleased to say they fixed the problem and managed to remove the blood from my left eye and so my vision has been restored. I still need to take eye drops for the next 2 weeks but looks like all is well.
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I have also been very active on re-formatting a lot of pages on the site where I used the new Web Expressions software to publish to the site. I discovered that using Firefox and the Google Chrome browser that these pages were showing very differently to what I saw with IE 8. The text was much smaller than it should have been. This is taking up a lot of my time and hence less content going up than normal. I hope to complete the edit of all the known pages in the next week but should you come across a page on the site that simply doesn't look right please email me with the page url and I'll get it fixed.
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We've all been sweltering in Ontario this week with temperatures in the 30's but over 40 when you factor in the humidity. Just glad I have central air in the house and an air conditioned car. It's actually the humidity that gets to me rather than the heat.
ABOUT THE STORIES
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Some of the stories in here are just parts of a larger story so do check out the site for the full versions. You can always find the link in our "What's New" section in our site menu and at http://www.electricscotland.com/rss/whatsnew.php
THE FLAG IN THE WIND
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This weeks issue is compiled by Jennifer Dunn.
You can read his compilation at http://www.scotsindependent.org
The Working Life of Christina McKelvie MSP diary entry for this week can be viewed at
http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...lvie/index.htm
Should add that as Parliament is now on Summer break that we might not hear from Christina for a wee while.
The Complete Scotland
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A comprehensive survey, based on the principle motor, walking, railway and steamer routes. Historical section by J.D. Mackie, M.C., M.A. Professor of Scottish History and Literature and the University of Glasgow and geology and scenery by T.M. Finlay, M.A., D.Sc., F.R.S.E., University of Edinburgh.
Added this week...
The Great Glen
You can read this at http://www.electricscotland.com/trav...land/index.htm
Holiday Cottages
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These are wee tourism articles. Got in this week...
Events and Festivals in Scotland.
This can be read at http://www.electricscotland.com/travel/holidayndx.htm
The Concise Household Encyclopaedia
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Added Page 392, Dried Fruit, Driers, Drills and Drilling Methods, Page 393, Drill, Page 394. Drill, Drinking, Page 395, Dripping, Driving, Dropsy, Dropwort, Drought, Drowning, Drug, Drugget, Drunkenness. These can be read at http://www.electricscotland.com/household/d.htm
Gairloch in North-West Ross-Shire
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It's Records, Traditions, Inhabitants and Natural History with a Guide to Gairloch and Loch Maree and a Map and Illustrations" by John H. Dixon FSA Scot. published in 1886.
We're onto Part II and added this week...
Chapter XIV.—Witchcraft and Magic
Chapter XV.—Visions and Second-sight
Chapter XVI.—Bards and Pipers
Chapter XVII.—Hereditary Pipers of the Gairloch Family
Chapter XVIII.—William Mackenzie and Malcolm Maclean
Chapter XIX.—William Ross, the Gairloch Bard
Chapter XX.—Alexander Campbell, Bard to Sir Hector
Here is chaper XVIII to read here...
TWO of the older bards of Gairloch deserve a chapter to themselves.
William Mackenzie, the Gairloch and Loch Broom catechist, was commonly called "An Ceistear Crubach," or "the lame catechist," owing to his being lame of a leg. He was a native of the parish of Gairloch, and was born about 1670. He seems to have been a poet of no mean order. In his early years he had the reputation of being a serious young man; he committed to memory the Shorter Catechism in Gaelic, and was afterwards for seven years employed in the capacity of perambulatory catechist at a small salary. On one occasion in the dead of winter a tremendous storm overtook him, and he was driven to seek the shelter of a rock. He was fortunately discovered, and conveyed on horseback to the house of Mr Mackenzie of Balone, where he experienced the greatest kindness. Here he saw a beautiful young lady, his host's sister, who afterwards became Mrs Mackenzie of Kernsary, and, inspired by her charms, he composed a celebrated song of great poetic merit.
He happened to be in Strath, Gairloch, at the time of a wedding, to which however he was not invited. Being joined by some others who had suffered the same indignity, and who brought a bottle of whisky with them, he forgot the sacredness of his office, and as the glass went round composed a satirical song lampooning the newly-married couple and their relations and guests. The song eked out. The ministers shook their heads, and condemned the profanity of their catechist from their pulpits. He was dragged before the kirk-session and severely cross-examined. One or two of his judges espoused his cause, and insisted that he should recite the obnoxious song. "I can repeat no song," said the bard, "unless I accompany the words with an air, and to sing here would be altogether unbecoming." This obstacle was, however, got over, and Mackenzie sang the song with great glee, while his judges could not restrain their laughter. However he was dismissed from being catechist, and was never restored to the post. He died at a good old age, and was buried in Creagan an Inver of Meikle Gruinard, on the northern confines of the parish of Gairloch.
Malcolm M'Lean, called "Callum a Ghlinne," or "Callum of the glen," was a native of Kenlochewe. His reputation as a bard rests entirely on a celebrated song he composed in praise of his own daughter. It is the only example of his genius now extant. He was fond of singing the songs of other poets, and had an excellent voice. As a young man he enlisted in the army, and after serving a number of years was allowed a small pension on his discharge. He became a crofter in his native country, and married a woman of exemplary patience and resignation. He is described as a bacchanalian of the first magnitude, and by his intemperance reduced his wife and daughter to miserable poverty. The daughter, his only child, was of uncommon beauty, but for want of dowry was for a long time unwooed and unmarried. In his later years his drinking habits became more notorious than ever, and when he was seen approaching an inn the local topers left their work and trooped about him. No wonder the resignation of his poor wife, under such circumstances,. is proverbial in Gairloch. He died about the year 1764.
Professor Blackie has made a spirited translation of Malcolm Maclean's song, which with the Professor's kind consent is given below.
The forgiving gentleness of Malcolm's wife is recorded in the following story:—Malcolm had occasion to go to Dingwall on a summer day for a boll of oatmeal; he took a grey horse with him. On his way, with just enough cash in his pocket to pay for the meal, he entered an inn, where he met a Badenoch drover, who proved to be a boon companion. The two continued drinking together for some time; the bard at length spent the last sixpence of his meal money. Thinking, no doubt, of the awkwardness of returning without the meal, he remarked, "If I had more money, I would not go home for some time yet." "That's easily got; I'll buy the grey horse from you," replied the drover. The bargain was speedily concluded, and the money paid. The well-seasoned poet continued the "spree,'" until at length the price of the grey horse was gone too. "Now,'" said he, "I must go." "But how," said the drover, "can you face your wife?" "My wife!" said the poet, "she's the woman that never said, nor will say worse to me than, God bless you, Malcolm.''" "I'll bet you the price of the horse and the meal," replied the drover,. "that her greeting will be very different." "Done!" eagerly shouted Malcolm, grasping the other's hand. Away they went, with the landlord and two other men to witness the bard's reception by his wife. He staggered into his dwelling, where he would have fallen into-the open fire, had not his wife caught him in her arms, exclaiming, "God bless you, Malcolm." "But I have neither brought meal nor money," said the bard. "We will soon get more money and meal too," replied the wife. "But I have also drunk the grey horse," said he. "What matter, my love," she said, "since you are alive and well." It was enough: the drover had to count down the money; and it was not long before the patient wife had the satisfaction of hailing her husband's return with both horse and meal.
Callum o' the Glen
Chorus.
My bonnie dark maid,
My precious, my pretty,
I'll sing in your praise
A light-hearted ditty;
Fair daughter whom none
Had the sense yet to marry;
And I'll tell you the cause
Why their love did miscarry,
My bonnie dark maid!
I.
For sure thou art beautiful,
Faultless to see;
No malice can fasten
A blot upon thee.
Thy bosom's soft whiteness
The seagull may shame,
And for thou art lordless
Tis I am to blame.
II.
And indeed I am sorry,
My fault I deplore,
Who won thee no tocher
By swelling my store;
With drinking and drinking
My tin slipped away,
And so there's small boast
Of my sporran to-day.
III.
While I sit at the board,
Well seasoned with drinking,
And wish for the thing
That lies nearest my thinking,
'Tis the little brown jug
That my eye will detain,
And when once I have seen it
I'd see it again!
IV.
The men of the country
May jeer and may gibe,
That I rank with the penniless
Beggarly tribe;
But though few are my cattle,
I'll still find a way
For a drop in my bottle,
Till I'm under the clay.
V.
There's a grumpy old fellow,
As proud as a king,
Whose lambs will be dying
By scores in the spring,
Drinks three bottles a year,
Most sober of men,
But dies a poor sinner
Like Callum o' Glen.
VI.
When I'm at the market,
With a dozen like me
Of proper good fellows
That love barley-bree,
I sit round the table,
And drink without fear,
For my good-wife says only,
"God bless you, my dear!"
VII.
Though I'm poor, what of that?
I can live and not steal,
Though pinched at a time
By the high price of meal.
There's good luck with God,
And He gives without measure;
And while He gives health,
I can pay for my pleasure.
VIII.
Very true that my drink
Makes my money go quicker;
Yet I'll not take a vow
To dispense with good liquor:
In my own liquid way
I'd be great amongst men,—
Now you know what to think
Of good Callum o' Glen.
You can read all these chapters at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...loch/g2ndx.htm
The Starling, A Scotch Story
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By Normal MacLeod D.D. (1877)
We've posted other books by this author and also a biography about him. He was a well know personality during his lifetime and also chaplan to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.
This week we've added the following chapters...
Chapter XX
Jock Hall's Return
Chapter XXI
The Quack
Chapter XXII
Corporal Dick
Chapter XXIII
Corporal Dick at the Manse
Chapter XXIV
Dr Scott and his Servant
Chapter XXV
Mr. Smellie's Diplomacy
Chapter XXVI
The Starling again in Danger
Here is how the chapter on Corporal Dick starts...
CORPORAL DICK, who lived in the village of Darnic, several hours' journey by the "Highflyer" coach from Drumsylie, came at this time to pay his annual visit to the Sergeant.
The Corporal, while serving in the same regiment with Adam, had been impressed, as we have, already indicated, by the Christian character of his comrade. Those early impressions had been deepened shortly after his return home from service. We need not here record the circumstances in which this decided change in his sentiments and character had taken place. Many of our Scotch readers, at least, have heard of the movement in the beginning of this century by the devoted Haldanes, who, as gentlemen of fortune, and possessing the sincerest and strongest Christian convictions, broke the formality which was freezing Christian life in many a district of Scotland. They did the same kind of work for the Church in the North which Wesley and Whitfield had done for that in the South, though with less permanent results as far as this world is concerned. Dick joined the "Haldaneites." Along with all the zeal and strictness characteristic of a small body, he possessed a large share of bonhomie, and of the freedom, subdued and regulated, of the old soldier.
At these annual visits the old veterans fought their battles over again, recalling old comrades and repeating old stories; neither, however, being old in their affections or their memories. But never had the Corporal .visited his friend with a more eager desire to "hear his news" than on the present occasion. He had often asked people from Drumsylie, whom he happened to meet, what all this disputing and talk about Adam Mercer meant? And every new reply he received to his question, whether favourable or unfavourable to the Sergeant, only puzzled him the more. One thing, however, he never could be persuaded of— that his friend Adam Mercer would do anything unbecoming to his "superior officer," as he called the minister; or "break the Sabbath," an institution which, like every good Scotchman, he held in peculiar veneration; or be art or part in any mutiny against the ordinances or principles of true religion. And yet, how could he account for all that had been told him by "decent folk" and well-informed persons? The good he heard of the Sergeant was believed in by the Corporal as a matter of course; but what of the evil, which seemed to rest upon equally reliable authority?
Dick must himself hear the details of the "affair," or the battle, as it might turn out.
It was therefore a glad day for both Adam and the Corporal when they again met;—to both a most pleasant change of thought—a glad remembrance of a grand old time already invested with romance—a meeting of men of character, of truth and honour, who could call each other by the loyal name of Friend.
We must allow the reader to fill up the outline which alone we can give of the meeting—the hearty greetings between the two old companions in arms; the minute questions by the one, the full and candid answers by the other; the smiling Katie ever and anon filling up the vacancies left in the narrative of ecclesiastical trials by the Sergeant, from his modesty or want of memory; the joyous satisfaction of Dick, as he found his faith in his comrade vindicated, and saw how firm and impregnable he was in his position, without anything to shake any Christian's confidence in his long-tried integrity, courage, and singleness of heart.
You can read the rest of this chapter at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist.../chapter22.htm
These chapters can be read at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...ling/index.htm
The Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal
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This is the very first volume of this journal which I thought would make interesting reading. We've added more chapters this week...
Notes and Queries
Ascent of Ben Alder
Sgurr Alaisdair
An April Day in The Blackmount
The Ben More Trio
Ben Ghlas and Ben Lawers
The Highlands of Galloway
Here is the "Ascent of Ben Alder" BY PROFESSOR RAMSAY, for you to read here...
MR Storr'S graphic account of his ascent of Ben Alder, in the May number of this Journal, took the piece out of my mouth, for I had set my heart upon doing that very trip that month, and on opening up a route to that most commanding of Scotch mountains to my brethren of the Club. It is the peak of the central Highlands, standing "severely alone,"—the very of that glorious moorland region which stretches unbroken from Ben Macdhui to Ben Nevis, from Schiehallion to Loch Ness, and which counts the great Moor of Rannoch as a mere incident on its surface.
Not easy to get at; the very sanctuary of a great deer forest, or rather of several deer forests; no inn nearer than Dalwhinnie and Loch Laggan; no right of way any direction; guarded jealously on the only hopeful side by an impassable forest lodge, and even that only to be reached by six miles of private road, running along the steep northern banks of Loch Ericht.
I had explored all round it in August 1889, and returned baffled, like King Turnus in his attempt to turn the Trojan camp. "Come back in May," said Mrs Macdonald, the obliging landlady at Dalwhinnie, "we'll send you down the loch in a boat, with two days' provisions, and maybe the keeper at the west end will put you up."
So when our indefatigable colleague, H. T. Munro, looked in on the glorious afternoon of 22nd May last, and finding me deep in fusty books, said, "Let's have a walk ""No spot on earth," I answered, "shall drag me from these invaluable researches, save only the top of Ben Alder." "A bargain," was his reply. So off we went by first train in the morning; telegrams enough sent on to commissariat a regiment; but, alas! we discovered at Dalwhinnie that of the two cottages on Loch Ericht one was full of men making a new deer path; the other was standing empty between an out-flitting and an in-flitting keeper, each with his whole chattels on board of a boat, in the bay. In vain we drove, with a well-packed hamper, to the Forest Lodge of Loch Ericht itself (six miles), hoping to melt the heart of Baron Schröder's housekeeper into giving us beds; we were spurned from the door, had to drive back ingloriously to Dalwhinnie, and have our hamper unpacked, and turned into supper, shortly before midnight.
But we did our peak next day. A short sweet walk to the loch; a slow pull over dancing water, in keen bright air; the south side of the loch dark with steep rocks; the north side bright with young larches and occasional bursts of broom in full flower.
In two hours we land close by the Loch Ericht Lodge. We pass in front of its inhospitable windows, and striking away from the loch due West (Loch Ericht runs from N.E. to S.W.), cross a charming low pass, which leads to the headwaters of Glen Pattack, a wild, solitary glen, which runs down due North to Loch Laggan. Up this pass, and down Glen Pattack beyond it, there is an old road, with a right of way. A climb of half an hour brings us to the top of the pass, where we have a lovely view of Loch Pattack in front, a huge basin of flat, wettish moor at its head to our left, with the grand buttresses of Ben Alder and Ben Aonach springing out of it on its far side. To the right, down. Glen Pattack, runs the track to Loch Laggan. Deserting it at this point, we follow a well-made deer-path, which carries us high and dry across the swampy ground at the head of Loch Pattack—which we leave well to our right or northern hand—and straight to the foot of the grand north buttress of Ben Alder.
Here we stop for lunch at 12.40, having left Loch Ericht at II; and after half-an-hour's halt go straight up the edge of the arête described in Mr Stott's paper, reaching the top of the shoulder at 2.20, and the cairn itself (3,77 feet) at 2.50. This arête—whose Gaelic name means "the steep of the ladder "—deserves all Mr Stott's encomiums. It is a real bit of climbing; a good knife-edge of rocks, sometimes natural out-crop, sometimes loosely piled in chips as big as horse-boxes, falling straight and steep on either side, calling hand as well as foot into play, and presenting here and there some genuine bits for negotiation, with that delightful sense, at each point gained, that one may be baffled after all.
The view from the top is superb; but alas! we did not see it. Just one hour before we reached Mr Stott's "croft" of thirty acres (very big acres!) at the top, those glorious three weeks of May weather came to an end; and we saw the beginning of the wet summer of 1889 creeping along in the shape of fleecy Atlantic wreaths—from Ben Nevis onwards, from one top to another, till before evening everything was blurred with mist and rain.
Leaving the summit at 3.30, we made a grand sweep round the main ridge of the mountain, which presents a crescent to the north-east. It slopes easily to the west, but plunges in grand precipices on the eastern side into the corries which form the north-east face which we had first sighted across Glen Pattack. On this side the snow was still piled up to a great depth. There were some fine cornices, melted at some points into sharp snow-edges, at others broken off from the rock faces against which they had drifted by veritable berg-schrunds. After some delightful larking in this snow world, we descended easily by the long south-east arête to a point just below the mist, and overhanging the highly perched Loch a' Bhealaich Bheithe (2,347 feet). From this point—after a grand wrangle over the names to be given to the splendid panorama of peaks which rise over the Moor of Rannoch from Ben Cruachan to Ben More—we leave Beinn Bheoil on our left, and rush down a steep but easy descent to the shores of Loch Ericht, which we reach at 5.40, at a point about two miles east of the keeper's house known as Ben Alder Lodge. Two hours' pleasant walk along the loch side, on another good deer-path, brings us within sight of our boat, hovering about to catch a sight of us; and by ten o'clock we are back at Dalwhinnie, after about as charming a day of wild and yet easy walking as Scotland can afford. Less than nine hours' walking, with abundant halts, sufficed for the expedition.
Two slight inaccuracies in Mr Stott's paper may be noted. The Pattack does not flow into the Spey, but through Loch Laggan, and so into the sea at Fort-William; and the "lancet-edged hill" (p. 73) is not Cam Dearg, but a spur of Aonach Beag or Aonach Bea, "the little lump" which lies immediately to the south of Loch an Sgoir.
The other chapters can be read at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...ring/index.htm
Dr Margaret MacKellar
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The story of her early years by B. Chone Oliver (1929)
We have now completed this book with the following chapters available...
Chapter I - Childhood
Chapter II - Girlhood
Chapter III - A Soul's Awakening
Chapter IV - Letting Her Light Shine
Chapter V - The Missionary Call
Chapter VI - College Days
Chapter VII - Designation and Departure for India
Chapter VIII - Service in India
Chapter IX - Later Years
You can read this book at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...ckellarndx.htm
Hector MacKinnon, A Memoir
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By his wife (Martha Johnston [Adamson] MacKinnon) (1914)
We have several chapters up now for you to read but thought I'd include the first chapter for you to read here...
"Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight!
Make me a child again, just for to-night!"
IT is now eleven months since he was taken from us —time enough perhaps for many to be beginning to forget. But for the generation who knew him, there can be no forgetting of Hector Mackinnon, the universally loved minister and friend. Numerous requests have been made to us in these months to publish, at least, his later sermons; and on its becoming known that this is impossible, we are still urged to give to his many friends some token "for remembrance."
It is well known what he did in his twenty-two years of Christian service as a minister; but only to those near and dear to him is it known what he really was— "a man tender and strong," a deeply loving and truly lovable follower of the Master he served.
He was born on August 4, 1866, in the Island of Tiree, "the little kingdom just emerging from the waves." It seems only a short time since we all wandered together there, on happy holiday, and he drew our attention one day to the spot where stood the house in which he was born. Within a stone's throw of the place are to be seen the well-preserved ruins of two Columban churches, silent but eloquent memorials of a time when the Island of Tiree was closely associated with Iona, then the centre of learning and scholarship. Often had he told us of the beauties of his native island; and as we wandered, now knee- deep in gorgeously coloured summer flowers, now traversing a soft carpet of green, white, purple, blue and gold, while a gentle breeze wafted the sweet scent of wild thyme, myrtle and heather, we felt it was good to be there—a "lovesome spot" of nature's own making.
Hard by, and still beneath the shadow of the old churches, and within sound of the surges of the Atlantic, is the homestead he loved so well, known as the Lodge Farm, to which his parents removed when he was quite a child, and where his mother, brothers and sisters still live. He was the eldest of a family of eleven, four girls and seven boys; and his mother used to say, in Gaelic, how she "brooded" more over this one, her first-born, than over all the rest.
Both his parents were God-fearing people; and he sometimes told how as a boy he had often been brought to a standstill in the midst of his play around the farm by overhearing his father praying aloud in the barn for him. All his life he never forgot that, and was tenderly reminiscent over it.
His father, as the writer knew him, was a gentle, saintly old man; and the sight of him at evening worship, standing erect, with uplifted face and arms outstretched, pleading, interceding, reasoning in the soft, plaintive Gaelic tongue, was something to be remembered, His stalwart Sons knelt around him, and, worship over, all talked together in the most natural, unrestrained manner on topics religious or otherwise. But the centre of the group was always the Minister-son from the city. It is not too much to say that he was looked up to and adored by all his brothers and sisters.
One other vision of his father cannot be shut out. The morning of our departure having come, the horses ready waiting, and all gathered outside the door for leave-taking, in the hushed, mysterious stillness of the early dawn murmured regretful good-byes would be spoken, and then quite suddenly the old man would be missed from the group. Those who cared to look could see him round the corner of the house, wiping his eyes in a shame-faced, furtive way. Presently he would join the others, and wave a bright farewell as we drove out of sight. It always happened so. The same unspoken thought was in each mind, and the Minister would clasp his own little sons all the closer as we journeyed on. By and by there came a day when, in the midst of his many labours, the swift message was brought to the manse that the Minister's father had been called home. Then he wept like a little child. And between the pages of his Bible, the one he kept for private use, there lies, just as he left it, his father's photograph, along with a newspaper appreciation of him.
When Hector Mackinnon was seven years of age, he was sent to school at Scarnish, two miles distant from his home. On the first day of his attendance he was carried to and from the school on his father's back! Later on he attended the school at Cornaig, much farther away. Sometimes he would ride thither on one of his father's horses, and on reaching their destination, the horse's head would be turned, and it would find its way home alone, returning again for him in the afternoon. He was a bright, diligent scholar, eager to learn, and loved his books. In all his studies at this time he had the able and sympathetic assistance, and encouragement of the schoolmaster, Mr. Donald Mackinnon. He never forgot in after years how much he owed to his early teacher. It was like a fairy tale to hear him tell his own boys of his early school career, which he did, however, only on very rare occasions. There was no boasting; and when he mentioned the fact that he had gained bursaries amounting in all to very nearly £500, he would add, "But you know, sonny, it was not because of any special cleverness in Daddy; it was just that he worked hard."
At the age of fifteen he won his first bursary, and was sent to Raining's School, Inverness, for two years. Here he lived in lodgings, and when he felt lonely or dull, he would take his books and wander up and down on the banks of the Ness, reciting and committing to memory. He had a marvellously retentive memory, and never forgot what had once been carefully committed. Some few years ago we stood with him outside his old lodging, and on the banks of the river, where as a boy he had been wont to roll off his pages from the poets. How it all came back to him! And how little we dreamed it was to be for the last time.
It was during his schooldays at Inverness that he formed friendships the golden links of which were never broken. Writing from England three days after Mr. Mackinnon's sudden home-call, one of his boyhood's friends says :-
"The duration of my hero-worship (I use the phrase in its literal sense) goes back to the Raining's School days, at which place I arrived on the eve of his departure for Edinburgh University. The kindness and generosity I experienced at that time made a lasting impression upon me; and always since those times—at your home in Campbeltown or in Glasgow—contact with him but increased the gratification I felt in being a friend of Mr. Hector Mackinnon."
And amongst our most cherished possessions are the tributes paid to his memory by others who were his schoolfellows at this time.
At the end of two years he left Raining's School for the University, with a certificate from Dr. McBain, the head master, stating that he was the best equipped boy who had ever entered Raining's School, and one of the best scholars to leave it. No account of his Inverness schooldays would be complete without mention of the late Rev. Dr. Mackenzie, of Kingussie, who showed him much kindness, and with whom a life-long friendship was maintained.
It was a proud and happy day in the far-off island home when the boy returned from school with the news that in two months' time he was to go as a student to Edinburgh University. And the busy mother worked early and late to get his "things ready" for life in the great city; and, like all good mothers, she would have much in her heart of which she could not speak. His father, fearing his son's health might suffer through overstudy, would often send him out to the hills to look after the sheep. On such occasions he would invariably be found lying amongst the heather, deep in the study of Homer or Virgil, while the sheep were straying! But afterwards, when he had been called from the sheepfolds to be a shepherd of souls; thank God, he kept through all the years untiring and faithful watch to the very last.
You can read the other chapters at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...ckinnonndx.htm
Clan MacNaughton
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I found a wee reference to the formation of the Clan MacNaughton Association in an old copy of the Celtic Magazine vol 3. You can read this at http://www.electricscotland.com/webclans/m/macnach.html
A Legend of Loch Maree
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I found this account in volume 3 of the old Celtic Magazine which I extracted into a pdf file and placed on the Gairloch and Loch Maree project page at http://www.electricscotland.com/history/gairloch
Clearance of the Highland Glens
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By Colin Chisholm (pdf) from an article in volume 3 of the Celtic Magazine which can be read at http://www.electricscotland.com/hist...clearances.pdf
And that's it for now and hope you all have a good weekend :-)
Alastair
http://www.electricscotland.com