The Hebrid Isles ... A new edition, etc

Front matter

THE HEBRID ISLES WORKS BY ROBERT BUCHANAN. ' The dumb, wistful yearning in man to something higher — yearning such as the animal creation showed in the Greek period towards the human — has not as yet found any interpreter equal to Buchanan." — TJie Spectator. * In the great power of appealing to universal Hur iity lies Buchanan's security. The light of Nature has been his guide, a .he human heart his study. He must unquestionably attain an exalted r-uk among the poets of this century, and produce works which cannot fail to be accepted as incontest ably great, and worthy of the world's preservation.' — Contemporary Review. ' Buchanan is the most faithful poet of Nature among the new men. He is her familiar. Like no British poet, save himself, he knows her.' — StedmaiCs Victorian Poets. BALLADS OF LIFE, LOVF ) HUMOUR.

With Frontispiece by Arthur Hughes. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 6s. SELECTED POEMS OF ROBERT BUCHANAN. With a Frontispiece by Thomas Dalziel. Crown Svo., cloth extra, 6s. THE BOOK OF ORM. Crown Svo., cloth extra, 6s. IDYLS AND LEGENDS OF INVERBURN. Crown Svo., cloth extra, 6s. t ST. ABE AND HIS SEVEN WIVES : a Tale of Salt Lake City. With a Frontispiece by A. B. Houghtox. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 5s. WHITE ROSE AND RED : a Love Story. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 6s. A CHILD OF NATURE: a Romance. Crown Svo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d. THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD: a Romance. New and cheaper edition, crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post Svo., picture boards, 2s. GOD AND THE MAN: a Romance. With Illustrations by Fred. Barnard. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d. THE MARTYRDOM OF MADELINE. New and cheaper edition, crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d. - [Shortly.

THE HEBRID ISLES: Wanderings in the Land of Lome and the Outer Hebrides. With a Frontispiece by William Small. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 6s. CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY, W. IN THE HEBRID ISLES. THE HEBRID ISLES WANDERINGS IN THE LAND OF LORNE AND THE OUTER HEBRIDES BY ROBERT BUCHANAN A NEW EDITION, WITH A FRONTISPIECE BY WILLIAM SMALL. Eoutton CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1SS3 [All rights reserved} ' Hebrid isles, Set far amid the melancholy main.'

Preface

AND DEDICATION TO THE PRESENT EDITION. It is just ten years since the following sketches appeared in book form for the first time. Since then, and partly (I believe) through their publication, the Scottish novel has taken a new departure, and many brilliant romances have familiarized Southern readers with some of the scenes described in my Highland wanderings. The Outer Hebrides, however, from South Harris to Barra, from Barra to St. Kilda, with all their wild scenery and associations, remain virgin ground, where both the poet and the novelist may always find choice material for their fascinating art. The Celtic character is still little under stood ; the Celtic spirit is still scarcely heard in literature. Throughout my sketches I have attempted, again and again, to do justice to both. Already, as I write, the faint sound of a Highland uprising against oppression is heard along the length and breadth of the land ; and the struggle of the Skye crofters, feeble as it may seem compared with the mighty upheaving in Ireland, is just as surely a precursor of a revolution which must VI

PREFACE.

AND DEDICATION. come— when the cruel ' clearances ' will be avenged, and when the blood shed wholesale in the Glens will form the sacrament of a new and happier dispensation. I inscribe this new edition, therefore, to those Crofters of the Island of Skye who have recently stood up for their agrarian rights ; and, as the friend of the Highlander, I trust that this initiative may be taken up without delay, wherever the Gaelic tongue is still spoken, and wherever the hand of persecution still retains its hold upon the lives of toiling and suffering men. ROBERT BUCHANAN. London, October 1882. CONTENTS

Chapter I. First Glimpse Of Lorne

PAGE The White House on the Hill— The Land of Lome— First Impressions of Oban — The Celtic Workmen— Maclean, Mactavish, and Duncan of the Pipes — The Lords of Lome and their Descendants — Battle between Bruce and John of Lome — Dunollie Castle- Glorification of Mist and Rain — An Autumn Afternoon— Old Castles — Dunstaffnage ...... 3

Chapter II. Pictures Inland

The Seasons — Cuckoos — Summer Days — Autumn — Winter — Moorland Lochs — The Fir Wood — The Moors and the Sea — Farmhouses and Crofters' Huts — Traces of former Cultivation on the Hills — The Ruined Saeters — Graveyard at Dunstaffnage — The Island of Inishail . . . . . . 23

Chapter III. The Heart Of Lorne

Loch Awe and its Ancient Legend — Summer Days on the Lake — The Legend of Fraoch Eilan — Kilchurn Castle — Effects of Moonlight and of Storm — View from Glenara — The Pools of Cladich — Duncan Ban of the Songs — His ' Coire Cheathaich' — His 'Mairi Ban Og,' and 'Last Adieu to the Hills' — Songs of the Children of the Mist — The Pass of Awe — The Ascent of Ben Cruachan . . CONTENTS. VIII

Chapter IV. The Firth Of Lorne

P*GP. The Ocean Queen, or Coffin — Shon Macnab's race with ' the Barber ' — Lachlan Finlay — From Crinan to the Dorus Mhor — Hebridean Tides — Scarba — The Gulf of Corryvreckan — Its Horrors and Perils — Luing and the Small Isles — The Open Firth — Easdale and its Quarriers — Tombs at the Door — Miseries of Calm — Gylen Castle and the Island of Kerrera — King Haco's Invasion of the Hebrides — A Puff from the South-East — The Island of Mull — Johnson and Boswell in the Hebrides -A Run to Tobermory — Loch Sunart — A Rainy Day — Ardtornish Castle — Anchored between Wind and. Tide — Night on the Firth — Troubles of Darkness — Farewell to the Ocean Queen — Arrival of the Tern . . . . -57

Chapter I. The

'TERN'S' FIRST FLIGHT. The Tern Afloat — Off Ardnamurchan — First Glimpses of the Isles — The Cuchullin Hills — General Reflections — Flashing Forward — The Party on Board — The Scaur of Eig — Rum — Birds of the Ocean — Muck — Sunset on the Waters — Loch Scresort, Rum — The Gaelic Skipper — The Widow — A Climb among the Peaks — View of the Western Ocean from Rum — The Tern weighing Anchor — Kilmory Bay — First View of Canna — At Anchor . . . .87

Chapter II. Canna And Its People

The Laird of Canna — His Kingly Power — Prosperity of the State — The Island — The Old Tower — Canna in Storm and in Calm — The Milking — Twilight — A Poem by David Gray — Haunts of the Ocean Birds — Whispers from the Sea — The Canna People — The Quiet Life — The Graveyard on the Hillside . . . . 103

Chapter III

EIRAD1I OF CANNA . . . . . . • '17 CONTENTS. IX

Chapter IV. Night On The Minch

PAGE Gloomy Prophecies— Terrors of the Minch— The Viking— Llamish Shaw, the Pilot— Leaving Canna Harbour— Pictures of Skye and the Cuchullins— Remarks on Sir Walter Scott and his Poems- Afloat on the Minch— The Far-off Isles— Twilight— Hamish Shaw at the Helm — Summer Night — Talk about Ghosts and Superstitions—The Evil Eye— The Death-Cry— Wind Rising— Wind and Mist— Water Snakes— Midnight— The Strange Ship— Peep o' Day — The Red Buoy — Anchorage in Loch Boisdale . . 147

Chapter V. The Fishers Of The Long Island

I.och Boisdale — The Tern at anchor — The Inn and the Population — Rain — Boisdale in the Herring Season — Fishing-boats and Camps — A Night in a West Country Smack — Herring-gutters — Habits of East Country Fishermen . . . . . .170

Chapter VI. Glimpses Of The Outer Hebrides

First Glimpse — The Uists and Benbecula— Their Miserable Aspects — Hamish Shaw— Solemnity of the People — Brighter Glimpses — The Western Coast of the Island — Winter Storm — The Sound of Harris — The Norwegian Skipper — The Fjords — Kelp-burners — View from Kenneth Hill, Loch Boisdale — A Sunset — The Lagoons — Characteristics of the People — Civilized and Uncivilized — Miserable Dwellings — Comfortable Attire — Their Superstitions and deep Spiritual Life . . . . . . . 17S

Chapter VII

A WILD-GOOSE CHASE. The Sportsmen and their Dog — The Hunter's Badge — The Weapons — Shooting in the Fjords — Eiders, Cormorants, Curlews — Duck-shooting near Loch Boisdale — The Tern at Anchor in Loch Huport — Starvation — Wild-Goose Shooting on Loch Bee— The Shepherd's Gifts — Goose Shooting on Loch Phlogibeg — The Melancholy Loch — Breeding Places of the Wild Fowl — Rain-Storn) — 'Bonnie Kil- CONTENTS. X PAGE meny'— Short Rations— The Passing Ship— Red Deer, Salmon, and Eagles — Corbies and Ravens . . . • 2QI

Chapter VIII. Coasting Skye

Effects of Cruising on Yacht and Voyagers— Recrossing the Minch— North-West Coast of Skye— Becalmed off Loch Snizort— Midnight — Lights of Heaven and Ocean— Dawn— Columns of the North Coast— The Quirang— Scenery of the North-East Coast— The Storr — Portree Harbour ....••• 232

Chapter IX. The Saga Of Haco The King

i. — king Alexander's dream and death . . . 245 11. — king haco gathers his host .... 247 iii. — sailing of the great fleet .... 249 iv. — king haco's sailing southward .... 250 v. — the king's fleet meets with a great storm . . 253 vi. — the battle of largs . . . ■ ■ 254 vii. — king haco sails northward .... 257 viii. — king haco's sickness ..... 260 ix. — king haco's death and burial .... 261

Chapter X. Glen Sligachan And The Cuchullins

Sconser and Sligachan — Party and Guide — Dawn on the Cuchullins — Scuir-na-Gillean — A Rhapsody on Geology — Fire and Ice — The Path along the Glen — Hart-o'-Corry — Ben Blabheinen — A Monologue on Ossian — Schneider and the Red Deer — First Glimpse of the ' Corry of the Water ' — Lochan Dhu .... 263

Chapter XI. Coruisk

; OR, THE CORRY OF THE WATER, The Lone Water — The Region of Twilight— .-Blocs Perches — Hamish Shaw's Views — The Cave of the Ghost — The Dunvegan Pilot's Story — Echoes, Mists, and Shadows — Squalls in Loch Scavaig — CONTENTS. xi PAGE A Highlander's Ideas of Beauty — Camping out in the Corry — A Stormy Dawn — The Fishermen and the Strange Harbour — Loch Scavaig — The Spar Cave — Camasunary .... 2S5

CHAPTER IX.

Epilogue

; THE 'TERN'S' LAST FLIGHT y°

Appendix

. DEDICATION OF FIRST EDITION TO THE PRINCESS LOUISE THE HEBRID ISLES.

PART I. THE LAND OF LORNE.

' A Land os Rainbows spanning glens whose walls, Rock-built, are hung with many-coloured mists ; Of far-stretched Meres whose salt flood never rests — Of tuneful Caves and playful Waterfalls — Of Mountains varying momently their crests. Proud be this Land ! whose poorest huts are halls Where Fancy entertains becoming guests ; While native song the heroic past recalls.' Wordsworth.

Chapter I. First Glimpse Of Lorne

When I first came to dwell in Lome, and roamed as is my wont up hill and down dale from dawn to sunset, I soon grew weary of a landscape which seemed tame and colourless, of hills that, with one or two magnificent exceptions, seemed cold and unpicturesque. It was the spring-time moreover, and such a spring-time ! Day after day the rain descended, sometimes in a dreary ' smurr,' at others in a moaning torrent, and when the clouds did part the sun looked through with a dismal and fitful stare, like a face swollen with weeping. The conies were frisking everywhere, fancying it always twilight. The mountain loch overflowed its banks, while far beneath the surface the buds of the yellow lily were wildly struggling upward, and the over-fed burns roared day and night. Wherever one went, the farmer scowled, and the gamekeeper shook his head.

Lome seemed as weary as the Uists, weary but not eerie, and so without fascination. In a kind of dovecot perched on a hill, far from human habitation, I dwelt and watched, while the gloomy gillie came and went, and the dogs howled from the rain-drenched kennel. The weasel bred at the very door, in some obscure corner of a drain, and the young weasels used to come fearlessly out on Sunday morning and play in the rain. i — Two hundred yards above the house was a mountain tarn, on the shores of which a desolate couple of teal were trying hard to hatch a brood ; and all around the miserable grouse and grayhens were sitting like stones, drenched on their eggs, hoping against hope. In the far distance, over a dreary sweep of marshes and pools, lay the little town of Oban, looking, when the mists cleared away a little, exactly like the woodcuts of the City of Destruction in popular editions of the ' Pilgrim's Pro gress.' Now and then, too, the figure of a certain genial Edinburgh Professor, with long white hair and flowing plaid, might be seen toiling upward to Doubting Castle, exactly like Christian on his pilgrimage, but carrying, instead of a bundle on his back, the whole of Homer's hexameters in his brain, set to such popular tunes as 'John Brown,' and 'Are ye sleepin', Maggie ?' Few others had courage to climb so high, in weather so inclement ; and wonderful to add, the Professor did not in the least share the newcomer's melancholy, but roundly vowed in good Doric that there was no sweeter spot in all the world than the 'bonnie Land of Lome.' I was for a time sceptical, but as the days lengthened, and my eyes accommodated themselves to the new prospect, my scepticism changed into faith, my faith into enthusiasm, my enthusiasm into perfect love and passionate enjoyment.

The truth is that Lome, even in the summer season, does not captivate at first sight, does not galvanize the senses with beauty and brightly stimulate the imagination. Glencoe lies beyond it, and Morven just skirts it, and the only great mountain is Cruachan. There is no portion of the landscape which may be described as 'grand,' in the same sense that Glen Sligachan and Glencoe are grand ; no sheet of water solemnly beautiful as Corruisk ; no strange lagoons like those of seasurrounded Uist and Benbecula ; for Lome is fair and gentle, a green pastoral land, where the sheep bleat from a thousand hills, and the gray homestead stands in the midst of its own green fields, and the snug macadamized roads ramify in all directions to and from the tiny capital on the seaside, with the country carts bearing produce, the drouthy farmer trotting home at all hours on his sure-footed nag, and the stage-coach, swift and gay, wakening up the echoes in summer-time with the guard's cheery horn.

There is greenness everywhere, even where the scenery is most wild — fine slopes of pasture alternat ing with the heather ; and though want and squalor and un cleanness are to be found here as in all other parts of the Highlands, comfortable homes abound. Standing on one of the high hills above Oban you see unfolded before you, as in a map, the whole of Lome proper, with Ben Cruachan in the far distance closing the scene to the eastward, towering over the whole prospect in supreme height and beauty, and cutting the gray sky with his two red and rocky cones. At his feet, but invisible to you, sleeps Loch Awe, a mighty fresh-water lake, communicating through a turbulent river with the sea. Looking northwards, taking the beautifully-wooded promontory of Dunollie for a foregound, you behold the great Firth of Lome, with the green flat island of Lismore extended at the feet of the mountain region of Morven, and the waters creep ing inland, southward of the Glencoe range, to form, first, the long narrow arm of Loch Etive, which stretches many miles inland close past the base of Cruachan, and, second, the wind ing basin of Loch Creran, which separates Lome from Glencoe.

Yonder to the west, straight across the Firth, lies Mull, separated from Morven by its gloomy Sound. Southward, the view is closed by a range of unshapely hills, very green in colour and unpicturesque in form, at the feet of which, but invisible, is Loch Feochan, another arm of the sea, and beyond the mouth of this loch stretches the seaboard, with numberless outlying islets, as far as the lighthouse of Easdale and the island of Scarba. Between the landmarks thus slightly indicated stretches the district of Lome, some forty miles in length and fifteen in breadth ; and, seen in clear bright weather, free from the shadow of the rain-cloud, its innumerable green slopes and cultivated hollows betoken at a glance its peaceful cha racter. There is, I repeat, greenness everywhere, save on the tops of the highest hills — greenness in the valleys and on the hillsides, greenness of emerald brightness on the edges of the sea, greenness on the misty marshes.

The purple heather is plentiful, too, its deep tints glorifying the scene from its pastoral monotony, but seldom tyrannizing over the landscape. Abund ant also are the signs of temporal prosperity — the wreaths of smoke arising everywhere from humble dwellings, the sheep and cattle crying on the hills, the fishing boats and trading vessels scattered on the firth, the flocks of cattle and horses being driven on set days to the grass-market at Oban. This same town of Oban, prettily situated along the skirts of a pleasant bay, and boasting a resident population of some two thousand inhabitants, has been fitly enough designated the ' key of the Highlands ;' since from its quaint quay, composed of the hulk of an old wreck, the splendid fleet of Highland steamers start for all parts of the western coast and adjacent islands.

In summer-time a few visitors occupy the neat villas which ornament the western slopes above the town, and innumer able tourists, ever coming and going to the sharp ringing of the steamboat bell, lend quite a festive appearance to the little main street. As a tourist I first made the acquaintance of Oban and its people. Returning after many months, I became the tenant of the White House on the Hill. I arrived in the fallow season, before the swift boats begin to bring their stock of festive travellers, and found Oban plunged in funereal gloom — the tradesmen melancholy, the boatmen sad and unsuspicious, the hotel waiters depressed and servile instead of brisk and patronizing. The grand waiter at the Great Western Hotel, one whom to see was to reverence, whose faintest smile was an honour, and who conferred a lifelong obligation when he condescended to pour out your champagne, still lingered in the south, and the lesser waiters of the lesser hotels lingered afar with the great man.

All was sad and weary, and at first, all looks were cold. But speedily I discovered that the people of Oban regarded me with grateful affection. I was the first man who for no other reason than sheer love of silence and picturesqueness had come to reside among them ' out of the season.' The poor pale faces brightened, and I saw the sweet spirit looking forth, with that deep inner hunger which is ever marked on the Celtic physiognomy. Every day deepened my interest and increased my satisfaction. I knew now that I had come to a place where life ran fresh, and simple, and to a great extent unpolluted. Not to make the picture too tender, let me add that I soon discovered for myself — what everyone else discovers, sooner or later — that the majority of the town population was hope lessly lazy. There was no surplus energy anywhere, but there were some individuals who for sheer unhesitating, unblushing, wholesale indolence, were certainly unapproachable on this side of Jamaica.

It so happened that I wanted a new wing added to the White House, and it was arranged with a ' contractor, ' one Angus Maclean, that it should be erected at a trifling expense within three weeks. A week passed, during which Angus Maclean occupied himself in abstruse meditation, coming two or three times to the spot, dreamily chewing stalks of grass, and measuring imaginary walls with a rule. Then, all of a sudden one morning, a load of stones was de posited at the door, and the workmen arrived, men of all ages and all temperaments, from the clean methodic mason to the wild hirsute hodsman. In other parts of the world houses are built silently, not so in Lome : the babble of Gaelic was in cessant. The work crept on, surely if slowly, relieved by intervals of Gaelic melody and political debate, during which all labour ceased.

Angus Maclean came and went, and of course it was sometimes necessary to advise with him as to details ; and great was his delight whenever he could beguile me into a discussion as to the shape of a window or the size of a door, for the conversation was sure to drift into general topics, such as the Irish Land question or the literature of the High lands, and the labourers would suspend their toil and cluster round to listen while Angus explained his 'views.' In a little more than a month, the masonry was completed, and the carpenter's assistance necessary. A week passed, and no carpenter came. Summoned to council, Angus Maclean ex plained that the carpenter would be up ' the first thing in the morning.' Two days afterwards, he did appear, and it was at once apparent that, compared with him all the other inhabitants of Oban were models of human energy.

With him came a lazy boy, with sleep-dust in his round blobs of eyes. The carpenter's name was Donald Mactavish — ' a fine man,' as the contractor explained, 'tho' he takes a drap.' The first day, Donald Mactavish smoked half a dozen pipes, and sawed a board. The next day, he didn't appear — ' it was that showery, FIRST GLIMPSE OF LO RAE. 9 and he was afraid of catching the cold;' but the lazy boy came up, and went to sleep in the unfinished wing. The third day, Donald appeared at noon, looking very pale and shaky. Thus matters proceeded. Sometimes a fair day's work was secured, and Donald was so triumphant at his own energy that he dis appeared the following morning altogether. Sometimes it was ' o'er showery.' Tears and entreaties made no impression on Mactavish, and he took his own time.

Then the slater appeared, with a somewhat brisker style of workmanship. Finally, a moody plasterer strolled that way, and promised to whitewash the walls ' when he came back frae Mull,' whither he was going on business. To cut a long story short, the new wing to the White House was complete in three months, whereas the same number of hands might have finished it with perfect ease in a fortnight. Thus far, I have given only the dark side of the picture. Turning to the bright side, I herewith record a vow, that when ever I build again I will seek the aid of those same workmen from Lome. Angus was a Fenian, though not in the bad and bloodthirsty sense. Donald Mactavish, on the other hand, was of a gentle nature, inclined to acquiesce in all human arrange ment, so long as he got his pipe and his glass, and was not hurried about his work.

With playful humour, he would ' draw out ' the fiery Angus for my benefit. Then the two would come suddenly to war about the relative merits of certain obscure Gaelic poets, and would rain quotations at each other until they grew hoarse. They had both the profoundest con tempt for English literature and the English language, as com pared with their beloved Gaelic. They were both full of old legends and quaint Highland stories. The workmen, too, were n their own way as interesting — fine natural bits of humanity, full of intelligence and quiet affection. Noteworthy among them was old Duncan Campbell, who had in his younger days been piper in a Highland regiment, and who now, advanced in years, worked hard all day as a hodsman, and nightly — clean, washed and shaven — played to himself on the beloved pipes, till overpowered with sleep.

Duncan was simply delicious. More than once he brought up the pipes, and played on the hillsides, while the workmen danced. These pipes were more to him than bread and meat. As he played them, his face became glorified. His skill was not great, and his tunes had a strange monotony about them, but they gave to his soul a joy passing the glory of battle or the love of women. He was never too weary for them in the evening, though the day's work had been ever so hard and long. Great was his pride and joy that day, when the house was finished, and with pipes playing and ribbons flying, he headed the gleeful workmen as they marched away to the town. From that day forward, the AVhite House on the Hill remained silent in the solitude. Though the summer season came, and with it the stream of tourists and visitors, I abode undisturbed.

Far off I saw the white gleam of the little town across the long stretch of field and marsh, but I seldom bent my footsteps thither, save when constrained by urgent business. Nevertheless, faces came and went, and bright scenic glimpses rose and passed, while day after day I found my love deepening for the Land of Lome. In a certain sense, the whole Hebrides are the Land of Lome, Skye as much so as Kerrera, Coll and Tiree and Rum as much as Appin and Awe, Loch Scavaig and Loch Eishart as much so as Lochs Feochan and Etive. The family house of Lome began with a son of Somerled, Thane of Argyll and Lord of the Isles, who worried and bullied the Scottish king, Malcolm, until slain in battle at Renfrew. By a daughter of Olaus, King of Man, Somerled had two sons, Ronald and Dougal, the first of whom was the ancestor of the Lords of the Isles, or Macronalds, and the second of whom bequeathed his surname to the Lords of Lome, or Macdougalls.

Dougall got for his birthright certain mainland territories in Argyllshire, now known as the three districts of Lome, but his name and fame stretched far further and embraced many of the isles. He resided in the stronghold of Dunstafsnage, with all the power and more than the glory of a petty prince. Thenceforward, the Macdougalls of Lome increased and multiplied. At the time when Haco invaded the west (1263) they were great and pros perous, and fierce in forays against the Cailean Mor, or Knight of Loch Awe, from whom comes the ducal house of Argyll. For year after year the Macdougall of Lome fought against the dominion of Bruce, who had slain the Red Comyn, Lome's father-in-law, in the Dominican church at Dumfries ; wherefore Bruce, when his power rose in Scotland, marched into Argyll shire to lay waste the country.

John of Lome, son of the chieftain, was posted with his clansmen in the Pass of Awe, a wild and narrow pathway, passing on below the verge of Ben Cruachan, and surrounded by precipices to all appearance in accessible. The military skill of Bruce, however, enabled him to obtain possession of the heights above, whence his archers discharged a fatal volley of arrows on the discomfited men of Argyll, who were routed with great slaughter — John, their leader, just managing to escape by means of his boats on the lake. After this victory, Bruce ' harried ' Argyllshire, and be sieging Dunstafsnage Castle, on the west shore of Lome, reduced it by fire and sword, and placed in it a garrison and governor of his own. Alaster, the chieftain, at last submitted, but John, still rebellious, escaped to England.

When the wars between the Bruce and Baliol factions again broke out in the reign of David II. , the Macdougalls, with their hereditary enmity to the house of Bruce, were again upon the losing side. David IL, and his successor, stripped them of the greater part of their territories, and in 1434 one Robert Stuart was appointed to administer their lands under the title of Seneschall of Lome.* In spite of all this terrible adversity, the Macdougalls * The fortunes of this new House of Lome, until its amalgamation with the ducal House of Argyll, may be followed in the following extract from a sketch by Mr. Smith, schoolmaster of Inveraray, contributed to Mac millan s Magazine. The narrative presents a certain interest at the present moment : ' According to one authority — who refers for proof to " Inventory of Argyle Writs, title Lome" — Robert Stewart, of Rosyth, married the daughter of John of Lome (Macdougall), and afterwards sold the chieftainship he had thus obtained to his own brother, John Stewart, of Innermeath.

Others affirm positively that it was the latter himself who married the heiress, and thus got the lands and title ; others still — and this is the view upheld by local tradition — that the marriage did not take place till after he had been put in possession by the Crown. This transaction, whatever may have been its real nature, must have taken place either late in the fourteenth or early in the fifteenth century. Taken in connection with the result of the previous dynastic struggles, it had, as we shall presently see, an important bearing on the future fortune of the house. ' On the opposite shore of Loch Awe, as already noted, dwelt the Camp bells, the hereditary foes of the Macdougalls. Down to the time of Bruce, ages of deadly strife and bloodshed had only served to deepen the feud between the two clans, the Macdougalls having been so far able to hold their own against their troublesome neighbours.