From John O'Groats to Land's End Part 12

and it was found to be all a joke, there was a general laugh all round, which was joined in heartily by the boy himself, for he had evidently got a ride on the strength of the story of the lost cow. We observed that the cart that overtook us had two horses, whilst that we met had only one, so we conjectured that our further way would be comparatively level, and this we afterwards found to be correct. The boy did not altogether miss his opportunity, for when we had reached, as he thought, a safe distance, we heard him shout: "Ask your mother when you get home if _she_ has seen a cow!"--but perhaps "two calves" would have been nearer the mark.

We had a lovely two-mile walk between Arrochar and Tarbet, with a magnificent view of Loch Lomond on our way; while before us, across the loch, stood Ben Lomond, a mountain which rises to the height of 3,192 feet above sea-level.

The scene was one that cannot properly be described--the blue waters, of the loch, with the trees beyond, and behind them this magnificent mountain, its top covered with pure white snow, and the sun s.h.i.+ning on all, formed a picture beautiful beyond description, which seemed to lift our hearts and minds from the earth to the blue heavens above, and our thoughts to the great Almighty Who is in all and over all in that "land of pure delight where saints immortal reign."

[Ill.u.s.tration: LOCH LOMOND AND THE BEN.]

Our road now skirted the banks of Loch Lomond, the largest fresh-water lake in Scotland or England, being twenty-four miles long and five miles in width at its broadest point, and containing over twenty islands, some of which we saw. At the hotel where we called for tea it was thus described:

Loch Lomond is the paragon of Scottish lakes. In island beauty unrivalled, for all that forms romance is here--scenery varying and increasing in loveliness, matchless combinations of grandeur and softness united, forming a magic land from which poesy and painting have caught their happiest inspirations. Islands of different forms and magnitude. Some are covered with the most luxuriant wood of every different tint; but others show a beautiful intermixture of rock and coppices--some, like plains of emerald, scarcely above the level of the water, are covered with gra.s.s; and others, again, are bare rocks, rising into precipices and dest.i.tute of vegetation.

Scotland has produced many men mighty in mind as well as in body, and their ideas have doubtless been enlarged not only by their advanced system of education, but by the great things which have surrounded them--the great rocks and the great waters. So long as these qualities are turned in a good direction, all goes well, but when in a bad one like the "facilis descensus" described in George Cruikshank's great picture "The Wors.h.i.+p of Bacchus," then all goes badly. An ill.u.s.tration of these large ideas turned to a bad account appeared in a story we read of a degenerate son of the North to whom the G.o.ds had granted the fulfilment of three wishes: First, he would have a Loch Lomond of whisky; secondly, a Ben Lomond of snuff; thirdly, (with some hesitation) another Loch Lomond of whisky.

We did not attempt the ascent of Ben Lomond, as our experiences of mountain climbing hitherto had not been very encouraging. Nor did we require the aid of those doubtful articles so ardently desired by the degenerate Scot as we walked along the good road, sheltered with trees, that lay alongside Loch Lomond, with the slopes of the high hills to the right and to the left, the great loch with its lovely islands backed by the mountains beyond.

Tarbet, which we soon left behind us, was notorious as the port of Magnus the Norseman, whose followers dragged their boats there from the sea to harry the islands whither so many of the natives had fled for safety.

Ninnius, writing in the eighth century, tells of the great King Arthur, who defeated the Scots and drove them for refuge to Loch Lomond, "in which there were sixty islands and sixty rocks, and on each an eagle's nest. Every first of May they came together, and from the sound of their voices the men of that country knew what should befall during the coming year. And sixty rivers fell into this remarkable lake, but only one river ran from the lake to the sea." The exactness of every point rather amused us, for of course the invincible Arthur, like all other mythological heroes, must ever succeed, and he soon cleared the Scots from their stronghold.

Sir Walter Scott has made this district famous, and we could have lingered long in the region of the Trossachs, and should have been delighted to see Loch Katrine, close by, which the "Lady of the Lake"

had rendered so familiar, but time is a hard taskmaster and we had to be content with what Loch Lomond provided for us.

We therefore hurried on, and eventually reached the lovely little village of Luss, where, as we entered, we were welcomed by the warbling of a robin singing out right merrily, as if to announce our arrival. Our first impression soon told us that Luss was well patronised by visitors and by artists ever on the alert for scenery such as here abounded. It was quite an English-looking village, with a small quarry, not as extensively worked as formerly, we were informed, for only about twenty men were now employed.

Before proceeding farther we called for refreshments, and learned that a steamboat called periodically at Luss. We left this favourite resort by the Dumbarton road, walking alongside Loch Lomond--one of the finest walks we ever took and quite baffling description. It was rather provoking, therefore, when darkness came on just as we reached the widest part of the Loch where quite a number of islands could be seen.

The road still continued beautiful, being arched over with trees in some places, with the stars s.h.i.+ning brightly above.

Luss, we learned, had its place in history as the home of the Colquhouns, whose feud with the MacGregors led to such murderous results. But perhaps its a.s.sociations with Robert Bruce in his days of adversity form its greater claim to fame, and the yews on Inch Lonaig, just above, are said to have been planted by him to supply his bowmen.

Before we reached the end of the loch we turned on the Dumbarton road, following the road for Helensburgh, as we wanted to see the River Clyde.

This road was fairly level, but about two miles from Helensburgh it rose to an elevation of about 300 feet. On reaching the top, we saw a sight which fairly startled us, for a great stretch of water suddenly and unexpectedly came in view, and across its surface we could see hundreds of gas lights, twinkling like stars in the darkness. We found afterwards that they were those of the town of Greenock, on the other side of the Clyde Estuary, which was some five or six miles across this, its widest part. We considered this was one of the greatest sights of our journey, and one well worth while climbing the hill to see. It must, however, be noted that these were the first gas lights we had seen for what seemed to us to be ages. We went straight to the Temperance Hotel, which had been closed for the night, but we gained admission and found comfortable quarters there.

(_Distance walked thirty-one miles_.)

_Wednesday, October 4th._

We had pictured Helensburgh, from its name, as a very old town, and were rather surprised when we discovered that it was only founded at the close of the eighteenth century, by Sir James Colquhoun, who named the place after his wife, the Lady Helen Sutherland. At the time of our visit it was a favourite resort of visitors from across the Clyde and elsewhere. We were unable to explore the town and its environs, owing to a dense mist or fog which had acc.u.mulated during the night; and this probably accounted for our sleeping longer than usual, for it was quite nine o'clock before we left Helensburgh on our way to Dumbarton. If the atmosphere had been clear, we should have had fine views of Greenock, Port Glasgow, Roseneath Castle, the residence of the Marquis of Lorne, and other places of interest across the Clyde, and of the s.h.i.+ps pa.s.sing up and down the river. As it was, we had to be content with listening to the busy sounds of labour and the thuds of the steam hammers in the extensive s.h.i.+pbuilding yards across the water, and the ominous sounds of the steam-whistles from the s.h.i.+ps, as they ploughed their way along the watery tracks on the Clyde. We were naturally very much disappointed that we had to pa.s.s along this road under such unfavourable conditions, but, as the mist cleared a little, we could just discern the outlines of one or two of the steamboats as we neared Dumbarton. The fields alongside our road were chiefly devoted to the growth of potatoes, and the fine agricultural land reminded us of England. We stayed to speak with one of the farmers, standing at his gate, and he told us that he sent potatoes to the Manchester market, which struck us with surprise because of the great distance. We also stayed awhile, just before entering Dumbarton, as there had been a slight railway accident, probably owing to the fog, and the officials, with a gang of men, were making strenuous efforts to remove the remains of a truck which had come to grief. We were walking into the town quite unconscious of the presence of the castle, and were startled at its sudden appearance, as it stood on an isolated rock, rising almost perpendicularly to the height of about 300 feet, and we could only just see its dim outline appearing, as it were, in the clouds. We left it for future inspection and, as it was now twelve o'clock, hurried into the town for a noon dinner, for which we were quite ready.

As a sample of the brief way in which the history of an important town can be summarised, we give the following extract:--

Dumbarton, immortalised by Osian, possessed in turns by first Edward and John Balliol, the prison of William Wallace, and the scene of that unavailing remorse which agonised the bosom of his betrayer (a rude sculpture within the castle represents Sir John Monteith in an att.i.tude of despair, lamenting his former treachery), captured by Bruce, unsuccessfully besieged by the fourth Edward, reduced by the Earl of Argyll, surprised, while in false security, by the daring of a bold soldier, Captain Crawford, resided in by James V, visited by that fair and erring Queen, the "peerless Mary," and one of the four castles kept up by the Act of Union.

And we have been told that it was the birthplace of Taliesin, the early poet of the Celts, and Gildas their historian.

In former times the castle of Dumbarton was looked upon as one of the strongest places in the world, and, rising precipitously from the level plain, it appeared to us to be quite impregnable. Captain Crawford's feat in capturing this castle equals anything else of the kind recorded in history. In the time of Queen Elizabeth of England, when a quarrel was raging in Scotland between the partisans of King James and his mother Queen Mary, and when even the children of the towns and villages formed themselves into bands and fought with sticks, stones, and even knives for King James or Queen Mary, the castle of Dumbarton was held for the Queen; but a distinguished adherent of the King, one Captain Crawford of Jordanhill, resolved to make an attempt to take it. There was only one access to the castle, approached by 365 steps, but these were strongly guarded and fortified. The captain took advantage of a misty and moonless night to bring his scaling-ladders to the foot of the rock at the opposite side, where it was the most precipitous, and consequently the least guarded by the soldiers at the top. The choice of this side of the rock was fortunate, as the first ladder broke with the weight of the men who attempted to climb it, and the noise of the fall must have betrayed them if they had been on the other and more guarded side. Crawford, who was a.s.sisted by a soldier who had deserted from the castle, renewed the attempt in person, and, having scrambled up a projecting ledge of rock, fastened the ladder by tying it to the roots of a tree which grew midway up the rock. Here they found a footing for the whole party, which was, of course, small in number. In scaling the second precipice, however, one of the party was seized with an epileptic fit, to which he was subject, brought on, perhaps, by terror in the act of climbing the ladder. He could neither ascend nor descend; moreover, if they had thrown him down, apart from the cruelty of the thing, the fall of his body might have alarmed the garrison. Crawford, therefore, ordered him to be tied fast to one side of the ladder, and, turning it round, they mounted with ease. When the party gained the summit, they slew the sentinel before he had time to give the alarm, and easily surprised the slumbering garrison, who had trusted too much to the security of their position. Some of the climbing irons used are shown within the castle.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DUMBARTON CASTLE]

We now set out from Dumbarton, with its old castle, and the old sword worn by the brave Wallace reposing in the armoury, at the same time leaving the River Clyde and its fine scenery, which, owing to the fog, we had almost totally missed. We proceeded towards Stirling, where we hoped to arrive on the following day; but we now found ourselves pa.s.sing through a semi-manufacturing district, and gradually it dawned upon us that we had now left the Highlands and were approaching the Lowlands of Scotland. We thought then and many times afterwards of that verse of Robbie Burns's:--

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe-- My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

We pa.s.sed through Renton, where there were bleaching and calico printing works. A public library graced the centre of the village, as well as a fine Tuscan column nearly 60 feet high, erected to Tobias Smollett, the poet, historian and novelist, who was born in 1721 not half a mile from the spot. The houses were small and not very clean. The next village we came to was Alexandria, a busy manufacturing place where the chief ornament was a very handsome drinking-fountain erected to a member of the same family, a former M.P., "by his tenants and friends,"

forming a striking contrast to its mean and insignificant surroundings of one-storied houses and dismal factories. We were soon in the country again, and pa.s.sed some fine residences, including the modern-looking Castle of Tullichewan situated in a fine park, and reached Balloch at the extreme end of Loch Lomond, from which point we had a momentary view of the part of the lake we had missed seeing on the preceding evening.

Here we paid the sum of one halfpenny each for the privilege of pa.s.sing over the Suspension Bridge, which gave us access to a very pleasant part of the country, and crossed one spur of a hill, from the top of which, under favourable conditions, we might have seen nearly the whole of Loch Lomond, including the islands and the ranges of hills on either side--

[Ill.u.s.tration: MAINS CASTLE, KILMARONOCK]

Mountains that like giants stand To sentinel enchanted land.

But though it was only about a mile and a half from our path to the summit, and the total elevation only 576 feet, 297 of which we had already ascended, we did not visit it, as the mist would have prevented an extended view. It stood in a beautiful position, surrounded by woods and the grounds of Boturich Castle; why such a pretty place should be called "Mount Misery" was not clear, unless it had some connection with one of the Earls of Argyll who came to grief in that neighbourhood in 1685 near Gartocharn, which we pa.s.sed shortly afterwards. He had collected his clan to overthrow the Government of James VII (James II of England) and had crossed the Leven at Balloch when he found Gartocharn occupied by the royal troops. Instead of attacking them, he turned aside, to seek refuge among the hills, and in the darkness and amid the bogs and moors most of his men deserted, only about five hundred answering to their names the following morning. The Earl, giving up the attempt, was captured an hour or two later as he was attempting to cross the River Clyde, and the words applied to him, "Unhappy Argyll,"

indicated his fate. We pa.s.sed Kilmaronock church in the dark and, after crossing the bridge over Endrick Water, entered Drymen and put up at the "Buchanan Arms" Inn, where we had been recommended to stay the night.

(_Distance walked twenty miles_.)

_Thursday, October 5th._

We were up early this morning and went to have a look round the village of Drymen and its surroundings before breakfast. We were quite near Buchanan Castle, and took the liberty of trespa.s.sing for a short time in the walks and woods surrounding it. The Duke of Montrose here reigned supreme, his family the Grahams having been in possession for twenty generations; among his ancestors were Sir Patrick de Graham, who was killed at the Battle of Dunbar in 1296, and Sir John de Graham, the beloved friend of the immortal Wallace, who was slain at the Battle of Falkirk in 1298. The village had been built in the form of a square which enclosed a large field of gra.s.s called the Cross Green, with nothing remarkable about it beyond an enormous ash tree supposed to be over 300 years old which stood in the churchyard. It measured about 17 feet in circ.u.mference at 5 feet from the ground, and was called the Bell Tree, because the church bell which summoned the villagers to wors.h.i.+p was suspended from one of its branches. The tree began to show signs of decay, so eventually the bell had to be taken down and a belfry built to receive it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SQUARE, DRYMEN]

We finished our breakfast at 8.30, and then, with the roads in a fearfully muddy condition owing to heavy downfalls of rain, started on our walk towards Stirling. The region here was pleasing agricultural country, and we pa.s.sed many large and well-stocked farms on our way, some of them having as many as a hundred stacks of corn and beans in their stack-yards. After walking about seven miles we arrived at the dismal-looking village of Buchlyvie, where we saw many houses in ruins, standing in all their gloominess as evidences of the devastating effects of war. Some of the inhabitants were trying to eke out their livelihood by hand-loom weaving, but there was a poverty-stricken appearance about the place which had, we found, altered but little since Sir Walter Scott wrote of it in the following rhyme which he had copied from an old ballad:

Baron of Buchlivie, May the foul fiend drive ye And a' to pieces rive ye For building sic a town, Where there's neither horse meat Nor man's meat, nor a chair to sit down.

We did not find the place quite so bad as that, for there were two or three small inns where travellers could get refreshments and a chair to sit down upon; but we did not halt for these luxuries until we reached Kippen, about five miles farther on. Before arriving there we overtook two drovers who were well acquainted with Glencoe and the Devil's Stairs, and when we told them of our adventures there they said we were very lucky to have had a fine day when we crossed those hills. They told us the story of the two young men who perished there, but thought their death was partially caused through lack of food. Kippen, they informed us, was on the borders of Perths.h.i.+re and Stirlings.h.i.+re, and when we told them we intended calling for refreshments they advised us to patronise the "Cross Keys Inn." We found Kippen, or, as it was sometimes named, the Kingdom of Kippen, a pleasant place, and we had no difficulty in finding the "Cross Keys." Here we learned about the King of Kippen, the Scottish Robin Hood, and were told that it was only two miles away to the Ford of Frew, where Prince Charlie crossed the River Forth on his way from Perth to Stirling, and that about three minutes' walk from the Cross there was a place from which the most extensive and beautiful views of the country could be obtained. Rising like towers from the valley of the Forth could be seen three craigs--Dumyate Craig, Forth Abbey Craig, and the craig on which Stirling Castle had been built; spreading out below was the Ca.r.s.e of Stirling, which merged into and included the Vale of Monteith, about six miles from Kippen; while the distant view comprised the summits of many mountains, including that of Ben Lomond.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OLD BELFRY, KIPPEN]

As usual in Scotland, the village contained two churches--the Parish Church and the United Free Church. In the old churchyard was an ancient ivy-covered belfry, but the church to which it belonged had long since disappeared. Here was the burial-place of the family of Edinbellie, and here lived in olden times an attractive and wealthy young lady named Jean Kay, whom Rob Roy, the youngest son of Rob Roy Macgregor, desired to marry. She would not accept him, so leaving Balquidder, the home of the Macgregors, accompanied by his three brothers and five other men, he went to Edinbellie and carried her off to Rowardennan, where a sham form of marriage was gone through. But the romantic lover paid dearly for his exploit, as it was for robbing this family of their daughter that Rob forfeited his life on the scaffold at Edinburgh on February 16th, 1754, Jean Kay having died at Glasgow on October 4th, 1751.

[Ill.u.s.tration: QUEEN MARY'S BOWER, INCHMAHOME.]

We were well provided for at the "Cross Keys," and heard a lot about Mary Queen of Scots, as we were now approaching a district where much of the history of Scotland was made. Her name seemed to be on everybody's lips and her portrait in everybody's house, including the smallest dwellings. She seemed to be the most romantic character in the minds of the Scots, by whom she was almost idolised--not perhaps so much for her beauty and character as for her sufferings and the circ.u.mstances connected with her death. The following concise account of the career of this beautiful but unfortunate Queen and her son King James greatly interested us. She was born at Linlithgow Palace in the year 1542, and her father died when she was only eight days old. In the next year she was crowned Queen of Scotland at Stirling, and remained at the Castle there for about four years. She was then removed to Inchmahome, an island of about six acres in extent situated in the small Lake of Monteith, about six miles north of Kippen. In 1547, when six years old, she was sent to France in a Flemish s.h.i.+p from Dumbarton, and in the following year she was married to the Dauphin of France, afterwards King Francis II, who died in the year 1560. Afterwards she returned to Scotland and went to Stirling Castle, where she met her cousin Lord Darnley and was married to him at Holyrood in 1565, her son being born in 1566. Troubles, however, soon arose, and for a short time she was made a prisoner and placed in the Castle of Loch Leven, from which she escaped with the intention of going to Dumbarton Castle for safety. Her army under the Earl of Argyll accompanied her, but on the way they met an opposing army commanded by the Regent Murray, who defeated her army, and Queen Mary fled to England. Here she again became a prisoner and was placed in various castles for the long period of nineteen years, first in one and then in another, with a view probably to preventing her being rescued by her friends; and finally she was beheaded in 1587 in the forty-eighth year of her age at Fotheringay Castle in Northamptons.h.i.+re, by command of her cousin, Queen Elizabeth.

Her son James VI of Scotland, who subsequently became James I of England, was baptised in the Royal Chapel at Stirling Castle in 1566, and in 1567, when he was only about thirteen months old, was crowned in the parish church at Stirling, his mother Queen Mary having been forced to abdicate in favour of her son. The great Puritan divine John Knox preached the Coronation sermon on that occasion, and the young king was educated until he was thirteen years of age by George Buchanan, the celebrated scholar and historian, in the castle, where his cla.s.s-room is still to be seen. He succeeded to the English throne on the death of Queen Elizabeth, and was crowned as King James I of England in the year 1603.

Leaving Kippen, we pa.s.sed through Gargunnock, with the extraordinary windings of the River Forth to our left, and arrived at Stirling at 5.15 p.m., where at the post-office we found a host of letters waiting our arrival and at the railway-station a welcome change of clothing from home.

(_Distance walked twenty-two miles_.)

_Friday, October 6th._

Stirling is one of the most attractive towns in Scotland, and we could not resist staying there awhile to explore it. It is the "key to the Highlands," and one of the oldest of the Royal burghs. It was a place of some importance in the time of the Romans, as it stood between the two great Firths of the Clyde and the Forth, where the Island of Britain is at its narrowest. The first Roman wall was built between the Forth and the Clyde, and the Second Roman Legion was stationed at Stirling.

According to an old inscription on a stone near the Ballengeich road, they kept a watch there day and night, and in A.D. 81 a great battle was fought near by against 30,000 Caledonians, who were defeated.

Stirling has a commanding geographical position, and all the roads converge there to cross the River Forth. It was at Stirling Bridge that Wallace defeated the army of 50,000 soldiers sent against him in the year 1297 by Edward I, King of England. The town had also a lively time in the days of Charles Edward Stuart, "Bonnie Prince Charlie," whose father, during his exile in France, had been encouraged by the French to return and lay claim to the English Crown. Landing in Inverness-s.h.i.+re in 1745, Prince Charlie was immediately joined by many of the Highland clans, and pa.s.sed with his army through Stirling on his way towards London. Not finding the support they expected from the south, they were compelled to return, followed closely along their line of retreat by the English Army, and they were soon back again at Stirling, where they made a desperate but unsuccessful effort to obtain possession of the castle, which was held for the English. The Duke of c.u.mberland's Army by this time was close upon their heels, and gave them no rest until they caught them and defeated them with great slaughter up at Culloden, near Inverness.