IN THE HIGHLANDS.

Otago Witness, Issue 1893, 2 March 1888, Page 15

IN THE HIGHLANDS.

REMINISCENCES OF ISLAY ; OR, HIGH-

LAND SCENES AND SKETCHES.

The' lecture on the subject of " Reminiscences of Islay, or Highland Scenes and Sketches," delivered by Mr W. N. Blair, M.1.C.E., before the Gaelic Society of Otago in the Oddfellows' Hall, Stuart street, on the 22nd ulfc.i was of unusual interest, and from its nature does not permit of condensation. We therefore purpose giving it in full. The following is the first portion of the lecture : — Jlany years ago, when I was preparing to leave my native isle, on the west of Scotland, for these far-off isles of the antipodes, a kindly old woman asked me with deep expressions of regret : "Is it true that you are going to the New Heelans? " Her knowledge of geography and etymology were alike limited, but I have often thought that the name was by no means inappropriate. New Zealand is as much a "land of mountain and flood " as the dear old country we left behind, so we may well call it the " New Highlands." And for the same reason it is in accordance wibh the "fitness of things" to have a Gaelic Society of Otago located in Dunedin, modern Athens once removed— " Edina, Scotia's darling seat" transplanted to the Southern seas. I had several times been asked to do something for the society, and the "silent monitor within " frequently reproved my shortcomings; so when leaving Dunedin I promised your secretary to send or read a paper, and now, after many days, I am redeeming that promise. Referring to his youthful aspirations, Robert Burns says :~

E'en then a wish — I mind its power, A wish that to my dying hour Shall strongly heave my breast— That I, for poor auld Scotland's sake, Some usefu' plan or beuk could make,

Or sing a sang at least. Few of us can make useful plans or books, and fewer still can sing songs ; but at this distance from the scenes of " joyous youth," we can all say something that strikes a chord on the strings of memory— that wakens pleasant thoughts of " auld lang syne." To strike these chords is my aim to-night. The title of my paper is " Reminiscences of Islay," and my reason for choosing this subject is given in the Gaelic couplet : — San (in lie bhoidheach rugah mi S' thogadh mi. It was in bonnie Islay I was born and brought up. I make this confession of zny nationality notwithstanding the bad character given to my countrymen in the Gaelic proverb :— Muileach, 'us Ileach, 'u6 deamhan, An truir a'a miosa ar an domhain ; S 1 miosa a' Muileach nan t-Ileach, S' miosa an t-Ileach nan deamhan. A Mullraan, an Islayman, and a devil, The three worst in creation ; The Mullman is worse than the Islayman, The lalayman worße than tiie devil.

This i 3 a hard saying. Let us hope that it is nothing more than a libel prompted by the personage associated with the Islesmen in the proverb.- Islay is known, at anyrate to the natives, as the " Queen of the Hebrides " ; but, notwithstanding this high distinction, she is probably the least known of tho group. Although there is much to interest and admire, the island has no special attraction like Skye or lona, consequently the tourist proper in not a visitor; he only knows Islay by proxy through her principal produce. And for the reason the island has few historians and a sparse literature. Thirty or forty years ago Mr John Murdoch published a small book, called " Sketches of Islay," which gave a description of the island and leading incidents in its history. So far as I can ascertain, there is no copy of this book in New Zealand, and I have been unable to get one from Home. I have, however, " Oliphant's Guide to Islay," published in 1881, and a number of historical notes furnished by my revered old friend and schoolmaster, Mr Hector Maclean. These aud a few isolated references jn histories, gazeteers, aud encyclopedias, together with 6ome maps, ancient and modern, comprise the records at my command. My paper is therefore to a considerable extent persoual reminiscences. It is 30 years since Islay was my home, and I saw it last in 1863, so the light of memory is fading. Oa the other hand, the impressions of youth are frequently the most lasting. From tho dim sheiling on the misty island Mountaius divide us, and a world of sea ; But 6till our hearts aro true, our hearts are High-

laud, And we in dreams behold the Hebrides. Tho poet has struck the right chord here. The older ono grows the more he lives in the past ; he dreams of the past asleep and awake. This is well exemplified in tho death-bed scene of our illustrious fellow-colonist Sir Donald M'Lean. Although full of years and honours, and surrounded by every comfort this fair land cculd give, his wandering thoughts were in the wild Hebrides, and the language of the Hebrides was on his lips. Mr Hector Maclean's notes, which form a valuable paper in themselves, give the early history of the Hebrides. A leading feature in the chronicles is the frequent changes that took place in territorial boundaries, and the means by which these changes were effected : generally by fair fightiug aud hard blows, but occasionally by treachery aud intrigue. One of the most interesting references to Islay that I have come across is in Martin's "Description of the Western Islands," published 1716. I am fortunate to possess a copy of this rare work. It was presented to me by a lady in Southland— "a fine old Highland gentlewoman of the good old Highland times." Martin, who seems to have travelled all over the Hebrides, gives a capital description of the islands and their inhabitants. The book is full of quaint observations, physical and metaphysical. Dr Johnson, the grumpy, attended by the ever-obse.quious Boswell — like Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday — went to the Hebrides, presumably- to look for Ossian and trees, but they did not visit Islay. The search was given up .before they got so far South. They would have found neither Ossian nor trees iv Islay ; but the islaud would have been better known had it been either abused or commended by the immortal satirist. One of the maps in my possession is from a survey by Stephen M'Dougall in 1750. Although he had a Highlaud 'surname, Stephen was evidently a Lowlander, for he made a sad havoc in the spelling of the Gaelic names. The modern map is from a recent ordinance survey; the scale is 6in to a mile, so every house and dyke and burn is shown. It was sent me by Mr Coliu Hay, of Ardbeg, a typical Celt, whose personal qualities are as well known aud as highly appreciated as the " dew " he distils from the waters of Loch -Parisian. Although not in the direct track of tb.fi tourist, Islay is by no means out of the way. The distance from the Mull of Cautyre, the nearest point of the mainland, is only about 17 miles, and the island can be reached from the Saat Market of Glasgow in nine hours. The Hound that divides Islay from Jura is only half-a-milewide; at certaiu states of the tide the current in it is swifter than the Waitaki river, but this does not prevent the red deer from haviug an occasional swim across. The island of Islay is about 25 miles long ai:d 20 miles

broad, but Loch Indaal and Laggan Bay take a great bite out of the land on the west, and Loch Gruinart runs in a long way from the north. The area, therefore, is not so large as these figures indicate, being only 220 square miles— about one-third the size of Stewart Island. Islay is generally low and flat. It contains a number of hills, but no mountains — at anyrate in tho sense in which ihe term is applied in New Zealand. There are only eight j peaks over 1000 ft high, and the highest of them is only 1609ftrythat is 678 ft lower than Mount I Cargill. Herein lies the great difference between the Old and New Highlands : the passes in New Zealand are as high as the peaks in Scotland. The principal physical characteristic of Islay is lakes, of which there are upwards of 150 ; seen from the Pass of Jura, the whole country is speckled with them. And many a bonnie I speckled trout have I caught in those lakes and the streams that flow from them, sometimes with lawful appliances, but often, I am afraid, with appliances that had not received the sanction ,of the authorities. Loch Finlaggan is famous as containing an island on which are situated the ruins of the principal stronghold of the Macdonalds when they held regal sway over the Western Isles, and met the neighbouring King of Scotland on equal terms. Here, too, lies buried Margaret, daughter of the first Stewart, King of Scotland, and great grand-daughter of Robert Bruce. She married the First Lord of the Isles when he surrendered to the Scottish king, an earnest of permanent peace and amity. The royal blood blended readily with that of the Macdonalds, and from the union sprang a numerous race of chiefs and warriors. It is curious to notice that in our day the same royal blood of Bruce does not seem inclined to mingle with the blood of clan Donalds hereditary foes. The level country in the island is mostly peat bogs, or arable land reclaimed from them. The lower hilly country ia limestoue, always green. The higher hills are the ordinary Scottish moorland, the prevailing vegetation being heather and brackens; the latter is the common fern so plentiful on the New Zealand ranges. The indigenous bush, which is of comparatively small extent, is a bush not in the colonial but Home sense. It consists of hazel, birch, rowan, sloe, and other small trees and shrubs. Since Dr Johnson's time, much of the island has been planted with forest trees : sombre pines and tasselly larches mixed with oak, and ash and elm — the beautiful ever - changing deciduous tree* we miss so much in New Zealand. Many a loch and burn and cozy dell have in this way been transformed into fairy scenes of surpassing beauty. Time will not efface the memory of the happy days when wo went gipsying, long, long ago — when we gathered nuts in the woods round Ballygrant. They were none the less happy that we had the fear of the gamekeeper before our eyes. The coast of Islay is generally bold and rocky, and sometimes precipitous, with a few sandy bays and beaches at intervals. As the island bars the way to the Clyde, ib was often the scene of shipwrecks. The Traighmhor (Big Strand), on the western side, the largest beach in the island, is to this day strewn with the bones of many a gallant ship. There is a large .percentage of Norse blood in the Islayman's veins, so he cannot be expected to look on these wrecks as misfortune unalloyed. The flotsam and jetsam therefrom were sometimes welcome items in his domestic economy. I, however, remember one harrowing calamity that had no r edeemin g feature to even the most callous wrecker. The Exmouth, an immigrant ship went ashore on the Sanaig rocks, and out of about 250 on board three only were left to tell the heartrending tale. The coast is full of wonderful caves and chasms that ceaselessly re-echo the sough of seas and the scream of sea birds. The Uaimh Mhore— Big Cave— at Bolsa is said to be one of the largest in Scotland. In the olden times it contained not only the home and household gods of a small crofter, but also his flocks and herds and cornstacks. In my day it was occupied by sheep yards. This cave was always an object of great mystery and awe to the natives. According to popular belief, it was so long and its ramifications were so intricate that no one who tried to explore it ever came back to tell the tale. There was also a stream of blood to cross— the Totan dearg— more horrible and awful than the classical Styx. Tradition says that a piper once attempted to fathom the mysteries of the cave. His retinue was a dog, and his arms the bagpipes. He started playing •• Cha till mi tuille " — " I will never return "—a somewhat depressing melody. Some time afterwards his dog came out at a well near Duisker, about seven miles from the cave, and oh ! horror of horrors ! he was hairless— singed in a subterraneous fire. The piper of course never returned, and to this day the wail of tho lament is sometimes borne on the summer breeze, portending evil to tho hearer. Those who are learned in pipo language say that the piper is lamenting that he has not threo hands — two to play the pipes, and the third to hold a sword with which to fight the fiends that surround him. Apparently the legend is stiil flickering in the minds of Islay men, for Oliphant says that the length of the cave •' has never been explored." I can tell a different tale. In 1562 my friend the late Mr Archibald M'Nevin and myself explored every foot of it. Thinking there might be something in the labyrinth theory, we tied a cord at the entrance, and ran it out as we went along. This was to enable us to return to the starting place no matter how intricate the navigation might be. We examined all the cave minutely, running out every neuk and crannyand cross drive, of which there are very few. We even crossed the Totan dearg, a small trickle of water that came through ochreous earth, and left bloodlike stains on our hands. .Tho mysteries of the Uaimh Mhore were found to be a myth. So much for legendary lore and supernatural fancies when brought into contact with the matter-of-fact measures of modern times. But legendary lore and supernatural fancies cannot be ignored altogether. Sir Walter Scott says that we are all more or less superstitious if we only had the honesty to admit it. I must confess that our thoughts were with the piper and our hearts in our boots when that exploration began, and the mysteries of the cave would have been confirmed had an otter or rabbit rushed past us in the dim light of our tallow candles. Another notable cave and chasm is ' Slochd Mhaol Doraidh in the Oa, which, in many of its features, is not unlike Staffa. William Black has put into the mouth of one of his characters a story heard by me 30 years ago about Slochd Mhaol Doraidh and an Islay worthy, Eoin Mhor na Madadh,> Big John of the Dogs. He was by profession a cattle drover, but at heart a riever. John was never seen without a large following of dogs guiltless of registration aud hungry for bones ; hence bis sobriquet. He once fell into the sea at Slochd Mhaol Doraidh, and his graphic description of the accident, which has been appropriated by Black, was a popular story all over the island. John had a decided lisp, which added to the piquancy of the narrative: " Chaidh mi sios agus than me nios s' chlaodh mi Dhia cuidich learn" ("I went down and came up and cried 'God help me!"'). This was repeated twice, but on the third time of rising John got hold of a rock, and he exclaimed, " Cha riog thu leas theig agam f hem air" (" You need not trouble; I'll manage it myself").

While there was strength in his own right arm, John would he under no obligation to a Higher Power. There are several small islands off the coast of Islay. One of them, which rejoices in the un-Celtic name of Texa, has no snakes* and on this account is supposed to be a bit of Ireland. Against this theory we have the fact that the main island lies between it and Ireland ; so if Texa is a fragment of the Emerald Isle, it must have been thrown at Islay and overshot the mark. As Texa contains the ruins of a chapel, my theory is that St. Patrick on a visit there gave the little island a special dispensation ; or perhaps it derives its sanction from an incident related of St. Kennethj one of St. Columba's confreres : While on a voyage between lona and Texa, tho holy man noticed that he had left his pastoral staff behind. He was in sore distress at the loss, and prayed ferrently for its restoration, and lo ! when his curricle touched the shore, the staff lay on the beach before him. Whether the emblem of ecclesiastical authority had come through the air like the witches' broomsticks or through the sea like a Whitehead torpedo is a detail not recorded. Martin devotes two pages of his book to the consideration of a mystical island that was occasionally seen some 30 leagues to the south-west of Islay. Curiously enough, the tradition had not died out in my day, although hydrographers and charts were "as plentiful as crows and Campbells." Islay contain* a number of natural products of considerable value — notably lead ore, containing a large percentage of silver. The lead mines have been worked at intervals since the time of the Danes and Norwegians. The sound of mining machinery is heard to this day in the neighbourhood of Ballygrant— a small Hebridean Reef ton. 11 The la&t of the lairds " had a complete set of silver plate made from the Islay ore, and the latu lan Og is said to have carried a flask of the metal with him in his travels round the world. The old laird took 500 retainers with him to Inveraray to meet the Queen on her first visit to the West of Scotland. Like a faint dream I remember the clansmen drilling in a paddock on Woodend farm. Mr Maclean, who was then tutor in the Islay family, relates a characteristic incident of the " marshalling in arms." In defiance of Freetrade principles, the laird ordered that everything down to the minutest detail was to be home manufacture. A difficulty arose with the stainiug of the handles of the Lochaber axes. According to tradition the proper dye was bog bean, and all the old women in the parish were engaged in collecting and preparing the plant. But bog bean is a dye that can only be used when time is not an element in the contraot, so honest John Maciutyre, master armourer, aided and abetted by Maclean, bought 6d worth of logwood and dyed the handles a beautiful purple in less than no time. Maclean believes that were the laird to rise from the grave and find how he had been imposed upon, he would still have it out with the offenders, so anxious was he to uphold the dignity of his clan and country. The local poets broke forth into song over the Inveraray expedition, a parody on an old Jacobite ballad being yet extant : Luchd na breachan luchd ua breachan Luchd na breachan sgnrlnid Luchd na breachan dhuibh s' uaine Dol maucuairfc air Shnwlield. Those of the tartan, those of the tartan, Those of the tartan scarlet, Those of the tartan black and green, Gathering round Shawfield.