Aberuchill Castle was for nearly three centuries the seat of the Campbells of Aberuchill and Kilbryde. It was originally built in 1602, but has since been modernised and enlarged. The Crown granted a charter of the lands of Aberuchill in 1596 to Colin Campbell, second son of Sir Colin Campbell of Lawers. His son James was made a baronet of Nova Scotia by Charles I. in 1627. He fell fighting for Charles II. at the Battle of Worcester in 1651. Sir Colin, only son of Sir James, succeeded him. He was the most distinguished of the family. Bred to the law, he rose to the position of Lord of Session with the title of Lord Aberuchill. Sir Colin was a Whig and a Presbyterian when the most of the gentry of Strathearn were either Episcopalians or Popish Jacobites. His name is associated with the massacre of Glencoe, inasmuch as he was a member of the Council that refused the certificate of the Sheriff-Depute of Argyle that M'Donald of Glencoe had taken the oath of allegiance to King William, unless they got a warrant to receive it from the King. From 1693 to 1702 he represented the County of Perth in the Scottish Parliament, and died in 1704. From the Campbells, the estate passed into the hands of the Drummonds. It is now the property of Captain Robert Dewhurst, son of George C. Dewhurst, Esq., lately deceased.

It would be unpardonable to write anything about Comrie without making allusion to the earthquakes which have made it famous. In the Statistical Account of Scotland, published in the year 1794, the Rev. Mr M'Diarmid, minister of the parish, gives an account of the first recorded earthquake in the district. During the autumn of 1789 loud noises, unaccompanied by any concussion, were heard by the inhabitants of Glenlednock; but on the 5th of November of that year they were alarmed by a loud rumbling noise, accompanied with a severe shock of earthquake, which was felt over a tract of country of more than twenty miles in extent. The Rev. Mr Mackenzie, successor to Mr M'Diarmid, writing in 1838, in the last Statistical Account, says that "at and after the time of the last Statistical Account the earthquakes were so frequent and violent, and accompanied with such noises, as to occasion great alarm, especially one which occurred on a Sabbath while the congregation was assembled." The year 1839, however, was the time of the great earthquakes. Writing in 1842 in the last Statistical Account, the Rev. John Ferguson, minister of Monzievaird, says:—"At this time they began to be frequently felt, nearly 20 shocks being occasionally experienced in 24 hours. The most violent one happened about ten o'clock on the evening of 23d October, 1839. The shock seemed to pass along through the parish of Monzievaird from north-west to south-east. For a second or two every house for miles around the village of Comrie was shaken from top to bottom; and while the motion was passing away to the eastward it was accompanied by a tremendous noise like the roar of 100 pieces of ordnance discharged at once and gradually dying away in the distance. This earthquake was partially felt throughout a great part of Scotland, as far as Inverness, Dunbar, Berwick, and the banks of Loch Awe. In this neighbourhood it was very alarming. Several individuals fainted, and most of the inhabitants of the village of Comrie spent the whole night in the streets, or in the churches, which were very properly opened for prayer. Many stone dykes were thrown down, walls of houses rent, and chimney-stalks shattered, the stones being frequently shifted from their places, but no serious damage was sustained. The shocks have again diminished both in frequency and violence since the autumn of 1839." Another severe shock occurred in November, 1846, but from that date they have decreased both in number and intensity. The cause of these subterranean commotions is in this as in similar cases a matter of conjecture, but there is good cause for thankfulness that they have hitherto been attended with no serious damage to life or property.

The Session records of some parishes in Scotland are of some historical value, but this is not so with those of Comrie. Beyond the perpetual reiteration of cases of discipline and doles to the poor, there is little to be found in them to throw light upon the Christian life and work of the parish. So meagrely kept were these records that until the year 1829 the Christian name and surname of the Moderator and Clerk never appear in the minutes—not even the Secession of 1843 is recorded, though the minister left the church with a great majority of the congregation to worship upon Tomachessock. The only exception to what we have just stated, perhaps, is a minute of Kirk-Session dated 17th November, 1772, recording the honour due to Patrick Campbell, Esq. of Monzie, then deceased, and the Rev. Robert Menzies, minister of the parish, for the active and benevolent part they took in the building of the Dalginross Bridge over the Earn. The bridge was built in 1756 at a cost of L230.

The Parish Church was erected in 1805, and holds 1044 sitters. The manse was built in 1784, and an addition was made to it in 1822. A new church was built in St. Fillans in connection with the Church of Scotland in 1878, and in March, 1895, it was endowed and erected into a parish quoad sacra under the old name of Dundurn. It is curious to note how the land has been changing hands during the last 180 years. In 1715, the heritors were the Earl of Perth, Duke of Athole, the proprietors of Aberuchill, Lawers, Monzie, Cultabraggan, Ardvoirlich, Comrie, Strowan, Drummond-Ernoch, and Balmacuin. At present they are the Earl of Ancaster, Marquis of Breadalbane, and the proprietors of Ardvoirlich, Dunira, Aberuchill, Strowan, Lawers, Dalchonzie, and Drumearn.



ON THE BANKS OF THE DEVON

By Rev. E. B. SPEIRS, B.D., Glendevon

Seeing that "St. Serf's Bridge" still spans the Devon at one part within the parish of Glendevon, and that the good Saint did not himself build the bridge, but, following a common practice, baptised and made Christian what was a Pagan structure, reared in this instance by the Imperial legionaries, it might be permissible for the local historian to go back at least to the times of the Roman occupation. After describing the camp and the Roman road which still exist in the mind's eye of the antiquaries, he might then go on to tell of holy St. Servan's feats in the way of detecting sheep-stealers by making them, like Speed under the influence of Proteus' reasoning, cry "Baa," or relate some such pretty human story as that of how he turned water into wine for the sake of a sick monk, or unfold the thrilling tale of how he fought the Dovan dragon, as Wyntoun sings, or at least says:—

"In Dovyn of devotyoune And prayere, he slew a fell Dragoune, Quhare he was slayne, that place wes ay The Dragownys Den cald to this day."[1]

The more exact methods of writing history now in vogue, however, almost compel the chronicler to begin with the first certain mention of Glendevon in accredited records, and that belongs to the year 1521. On the eleventh of July of that year an interesting ceremony was gone through down at Cambuskenneth, on the banks of the Forth. Abbot Mylne, a man both of culture and character, who to a genuine love of letters added a love of art and architecture, and who was ultimately the first President of the Court of Session, had re-built the great altar, the chapter-house, and part of the cloister of his Abbey, and had laid out two new cemeteries. In order to signalise these notable additions and restorations he invited the Bishop of Dunblane to conduct a consecration and dedication service. The Bishop was directly assisted in this solemn function by three of his principal clergy—his archdeacon, George Newton; John Chesholme, prebendary of Kippane; and "Jacobus Wilson, prebandarius de Glendowane." John Tulydaf, warder of the Minorites of "Striueling" (Stirling), preached on the efficacy of dedication after the celebration of the Mass, and amongst those present were the "noble and powerful" Lord John Erskin, Jacobus Haldene of Glenegges (Gleneagles), Knight, and various others of the local clergy, nobility, and gentry, together with a large concourse of people from the surrounding district. The official account of what took place on this high day when Glendowane, Glendovan, Glenduen, or Glendevon, first emerges into the light of history, is duly signed by Jacobus Blakwood, presbyter of the Diocese of Dunblane, public notary by apostolic authority, who was on the spot and saw everything properly done.[2] The name of Prebendary Wilson occurs in several documents both before and after this, all of which have reference to matters connected either with Cambuskenneth or Dunblane. He gets prominent mention in a paper dated from Cambuskenneth, June, 1530, in which he is styled "Canonicus Dunblanensis," heading a list of "venerable and discreet" gentlemen, including Alanus Balward, vicar of Kalender, and Andreas Sym, vicar of Cumry, but we cannot trace him further down than March of the following year. It is clear from this that Glendevon was attached to the "Kirk of Dunblane," and that the Parish Church was served from there, not, it is to be hoped, in the slovenly fashion characteristic of these times, when the stipend was too often fought for by different teind hunters in the shape of the bishop of the diocese and the abbot of some neighbouring monastery, a state of things to which Prebendary Wilson himself bears witness. There is something almost pathetic in the thought that less than forty years after that dedication service in which the Prebendary of Glendevon took part, these additions were to be pulled to pieces by the savage mob which wrecked, amongst other religious houses, the stately monastery on the Links of the Forth; and it is just possible that the great destroyer—spiritually at least—of what Canon Wilson helped to build up was in his parish in 1556. At any rate a spot is still pointed out on the glebe where, according to tradition, John Knox preached. We know from his own statement[3] that he spent some time in the early part of the summer of that year at Castle Campbell—which is only some four or five miles distant—"whare he taught certane dayis"; so it is at least not utterly improbable that he may have come through Glenquey past the Maiden's Well, and visited a possible congregation in Glendovan, exhorting them to "prayaris, to reading of the Scriptures, and mutuall conference unto such tyme as God should give unto them grettar libertie."[4]

The second direct mention of Glendevon in public records is of a somewhat unsavoury order, and affords a rather curious illustration of the beliefs of the people of Scotland in the seventeenth century. John Brughe, one of the most notorious necromancers and wizards of his day, was tried at Edinburgh on November 24th, 1643, for practising sorcery and other unholy arts, and amongst the charges brought against him was that he had met Satan thrice "in the kirkyeard of Glendovan at quhilkis tymes ther was taine up thrie severall dead corps, ane of thame being of ane servand man named Johne Chrystiesone; the uther corps, tane up at the Kirk of Mukhart, the flesch of the quhilk corps was put above the byre and stable-dure headis" of certain individuals in order to destroy their cattle.[5] John's object in collecting Glendovan "muild" was, according to this indictment, not a beneficent one; but it is to be remembered to his credit that he used the powdered bones of the dead and other materials, notably "ane inchantit stane of the bignes of a dow egg,"[6] for the healing of man and beast, and we are told that for curing a number of oxen afflicted with the murrain by administering a pint of one of his patent medicines, accompanied with the invocation, "God put thame in their awin place," repeated thrice, he got "ellevin od schillings, with twa peckis of meill and thrie tailyeis of beiff." In those days, when not only human nature but Nature herself lay under the black shadow of one of the foulest of superstitions, the fair banks of the Devon were much frequented by the devil, who had whole "covins" of witches and wizards in his service, so that it is not surprising to hear that John was frequently in his company. "That John Brughe had been with the devil at the Rumbling Brigs and elsewhere was affirmed by Katherine Mitchell to be of veritie, at the tyme of hir criminall tryell at Culrose, and immediately befoir hir executione, the said John Brughe being confronted with hir at the tyme."[7] We can claim this renowned empiric not only for the Glendevon district, but in a sense for the Presbytery, since it was alleged against him that he had got his uncanny knowledge "from a wedow woman, named Neane Nikclerith, of threescoir years of age, quha wis sister dochter to Nik Neveding, that notorious infamous witche in Monzie, quha for her sorcerie and witchecraft was brunt fourscoir of yeir since or thereby." Spite of all he had done for the "bestiall," and all the testimonials he had from patients whom he had cured of their "seiknessis" by enchanted drinks, Glendovan and Mukhart mould, and sympathetic conjuring of "sarkis, coller bodies, beltis, and utheris pertaining als weill to men as to wemen," John was found guilty and condemned to be strangled and burned. These were the real Dark Ages, when intimations were frequently made from the Glendevon and other pulpits that the minister and session would be glad to receive information against suspected witches, and when the common pricker who pricked poor witches "with lang preins of thrie inches" to discover the marks of Satan, was specially busy in the vale of Devon, where in a record year no less than sixteen of the local "covin" were burned. In the Roll of Fugitives from kirk discipline drawn up by the Synod of Perth and Stirling in 1649, Glendevon was represented by a warlock, "Mart. Kennard, suspect of witchcraft," but of his fate we know nothing. In this connection it may be remarked that though the "Kirkyeard of Glendovan," immortalised by John Brughe's ghoulish visit, contains no epitaphs, humorous or otherwise, it possesses a "Plague Stone," a large rough slab, under which lie those who died of what is vaguely called the Plague (1645?), and the lifting of which was duly guarded against by a solemn curse pronounced over it on whoever would dare to remove it, for two hundred years ago a curse could break bones or "ryve the saull out of ye."

Two years after John Brughe suffered at Edinburgh, the quiet of the usually peaceful valley of the Devon was broken by the clatter of cavalry and the skirling of the pipes, as Montrose, having in his usual brilliant fashion outwitted Baillie, marched through, burning and plundering as he passed, leaving Muckhart, Dollar, and, above all, Castle Campbell, the lowland hold of the detested Argyles, heaps of blackened ruins, a march which was to end in the bloody Battle of Kilsyth, that "braw day" when, as the Highlander with grim humour remarked, "at every stroke I gave with my broadsword I cut an ell o' tamn'd Covenanting breeks." When Chambers says[8] that "the Covenanting army marched close upon the track of Montrose down Glendevon, at the distance of about a day's march behind," he, of course, means down the Devon valley, and not down Glendevon proper, since it is pretty certain that Montrose, in making his descent from the north, entered the low country not by Gleneagles, but by the south-east end of the Ochils. Glendevon Castle—originally built, it is supposed, by the Crawfords[9] in the sixteenth century—thus escaped the fate which befel Castle Campbell[10] and Menstrie House, and other places in the Devon and Ochil district at this time, when the fierce strife was not merely between cavaliers and Covenanters, but quite as much, and specially during the Devon valley march, between the Ogilvies and Macleans on the one hand, and the Campbells and their friends on the other. It is, however, impossible, to say whether the Keep, which has been in the possession of the Rutherford family since 1766, was actually at this time in the hands of the Crawfords, and, indeed, the traditions regarding its ownership are so vague—one of them assigning it to the Douglases—that, in the absence of authentic records, it is impossible to make any really satisfactory statement regarding its origin and history.

{195}

Some years later the parish of Glendevon came prominently before the public in connection with the deposition and excommunication of its doughty true-blue Presbyterian minister, the Rev. William Spence, M.A., though it was not till he had been removed from his living that the really romantic part of his career began. He had graduated at St. Andrews in 1654, and after some years of schoolmastering[11] and probationership he was, in 1664, duly admitted on the new Black Prelatic conditions to the parish of Glendevon. Under the mild rule of Bishops Leighton and Ramsay he lived quietly there for fourteen years. His name occasionally appears on the Synod and Presbytery Committees during this period, and he seems to have done his best to get the brethren stirred up to "better the provision of Glendovan." The Bishop and Synod did actually order a "perambulation" to be made to see if anything could be annexed from the adjacent parishes, especially "Denying and Fossoquhy," so that, as Mr Spence put it, "ane augmentation proportionablie might {196} be made to him out of the vacant teindes of the said paroches in respect of the poornes and meannes of his stipend for the present."[12] The perambulation, beyond affording a pleasant outing to the visitors in the long May days, does not seem to have had any practical result. Mr Spence had, however, been thinking of higher things than teinds and augmentation, and had been looking far beyond the bounds of his own parish, and, spite of the extreme gentleness of the somewhat mongrel Prelatic-Presbyterian rule under which he was, and the general atmosphere of conformity which he breathed, he began to have serious searchings of heart about the state of the "poor afflicted" Church. Accordingly, towards the end of 1678 he took the bold step of presenting a paper[13] to the Presbytery of Auchterarder drawing the attention of the Court to the sundry gross corruptions under which the Church was suffering and to the horrid defection from its first purity, obvious to {197} every man who did not wilfully shut his eyes. The evils against which he asked the Court to testify were doctrinal, liturgical, disciplinary, moral, and what may be called ecclesiastical. He includes in the sweep of his very impartial denunciation not only the pernicious tenets of Pelagianism, Arminianism, Latitudinarianism, and Popish errors, but "the dotage of Quakers and other enthusiasts," human inventions in worship, and the private essays made to introduce or impose an unwarrantable liturgie of unsound and useless form, the loose spirit of atheism, profaneness, and ungodliness reigning in all corners of the kingdom, and the dreadful differences that prevailed, and calls for a return to sound doctrine, the practice of "the gude Kirk primitif," the exercise of a strict discipline, and the ways of peace. At the special meeting of Presbytery called to consider his paper he asked to have it back, apparently because he now thought its terms were not strong enough, and meanwhile a committee was appointed not to deal but to confer with him "until he should get full satisfaction of everything that was his scruple." He refused, however, to meet the Committee or attend the Presbytery, on the ground that he had {198} not "clearness" as to the authority and constitution of a semi-prelatic Court. The Bishop and Presbytery thereupon suspended him, and he was summoned before the Synod in April, 1679, but did not attend, on account of "ane aguish distemper which had seized on him." A Synodal Committee with full powers was then appointed, before which he compeared in May, but spite of earnest entreaties of the Bishop he would withdraw nothing, and even added that he did not think the present Church government agreeable to Scriptural rules—a view shared by some of the Episcopalian bishops themselves. The Bishop and Committee recorded their opinion that the paper was contrived and adhered to for advancing some private interest against the unity and peace of the Church, and rather unfairly insinuated that Mr Spence was the more hardened therein by the late execrable murder of the Bishop of St. Andrews and the expectation of a Revolution to follow thereupon, and unanimously resolved that this unruly and unreasonable member be deposed. Mr Spence was quite prepared for this, and, "with some signs of choler in his countenance," handed a second paper to the Bishop, which turned out to {199} be a protest against the sentence of the "pretended" Bishop and Synod of Dunblane passed on him. He was asked to retire for a little till they should consult, but he scornfully replied that he did not own their jurisdiction, and was making for the church-door when the Bishop ordered the beadle to lay hold of him, and carry him to his house, and desire the Baillie to keep him safely until he should find caution to answer before a competent judicatory. This was Mr Spence's first taste of imprisonment, of which he was to have a very large supply, of very different quality, too, later on. The good Bishop on his own responsibility sent three of the brethren that night to reason with him, but Mr Spence would not yield, and was let out on bail. He appeared at the next meeting of Synod, but, spite of the threat of excommunication, stuck to his guns and argued against his treatment on technical grounds, and on the following day, when, after being duly cited, he neither compeared nor pled "ane aguish distemper," the Bishop and Synod charged the Presbytery of Auchterarder to proceed with the excommunication, which after some bungling they did, and finally the superior Court ordered the {200} intimation of the excommunication to be read from every pulpit in the Diocese on the first Sabbath of January, 1681, but no attempt was made to detain the unruly member, and the door of grace was left open to the very last, quite remarkable leniency when it is remembered that 1680 was the year of the Sanquhar Declaration and Airds Moss, and that the peroration of Mr Spence's protest would have done credit to Cuddy Headrigg's mother. "For these reasons specially, and many others I need not mention now, I, the said William Spence, protest against the sentence aforesaid, and disown the same, seeing the said inflicters have hereby proclaimed themselves to be the patrones and abettors of all the said corruptions, supplanters of the Gospel faction for Anti-christ, promoters of the powers of darkness, enemies to the kingdom of Jesus Christ, and such from whom all good Christians ought to separate because of their maintaining and defending soul-murdering heresies, and in persecuting with the utmost violence and rigour any man who darr open his mouth for the truth of Christ. (Sic Subscribitur), Mr William Spence."[14]

{201}

Mr Spence as yet was only an ecclesiastical rebel, and instead of going over to the extreme Covenanters, made his way to Holland, where he joined the colony of Scotch refugees. Ultimately he attached himself to the Earl of Argyle as a kind of secretary, and conducted part of the correspondence between the Earl and the English plotters. He was in London in 1683, apparently on the Earl's business, when he was arrested and imprisoned for some months, but as he could not be efficiently examined in England, where torture was not legal, he was finally sent down to Scotland along with Carstares and other suspects in His Majesty's "Kitchin Yaucht," which did not go at a royal pace, for the journey to Leith took thirteen days. They arrived late at night on November 14th, having left London on the 1st, and were taken straight to the Tolbooth.[15] A week after, orders came from London that Mr Spence should be put to the torture, but for some reason or other he was left alone till the April of the following year, being evidently in irons all the time, his close connection with Argyle rendering his imprisonment {202} extra rigorous.[16] He was taken out of irons on the 25th of that month, but it was not till the 24th of July that he was ordered to appear before the Council and required to take an oath to answer all the questions put to him. He refused and protested, and was tortured in the boot, but, spite of the awful agony, remained "obstinate and disingenuous," whereupon the Privy Council "resolved to use all methods necessary to bring the said Mr William Spence to a true and ingenuous confession, and for expiscating the truth in so important a matter, do recommend to General Dalziel forthwith to call for the said Mr William Spence from the Magistrates of Edinburgh, and to cause such of His Majesty's forces, officers, and soldiers, as shall be found most trusty, to watch the said Mr William Spence by turns, and not to suffer him to sleep by night or by day, and for that end to use all effectual means for keeping him awake."[17] The "effectual means" were "pricking,"[18] and the intention was to induce raving, so that in his {203} delirium the brave prisoner might perhaps reveal his secrets. The torture was continued for eight or nine nights, but Mr Spence did not rave, and tired his tormentors out. It was next resolved to try the "thumbkins" on him, and, indeed, Spence seems to have been one of the first regular prisoners to suffer this new Muscovy torture,[19] for the Act of Council authorising the use of "the new invention and engine called the thumbkins" was passed only a fortnight before; but the sanguine expectations of the Lords were not fulfilled in the present case, for though he sank under the agonising torment, he would not yield. Ten days later he was again threatened with the boot, and having meanwhile understood from his friends that the Government practically knew already all he could tell them, he promised to make a free and ingenuous confession on certain conditions—namely, that no new questions should be put to him, that he should not be obliged to be a witness against any person, and that he himself should be pardoned. Unfortunately, by a sheer accident in disclosing the meaning of some of the ciphers used in Argyle's correspondence, he put the Council {204} on the track of the cipher[20] which expressed the name of his fellow-prisoner, the famous Carstares, who, however, does not in any way blame Mr Spence for what happened. He was sent back to prison, strict orders being given that he was not to be permitted to see Carstares, and when the Council adjourned for the holidays on September 13th, he was removed to Dumbarton Castle, and granted liberty within the walls. Whether he escaped, or was allowed to go out of the country, we cannot tell, but it is clear at any rate that he rejoined his old master in Holland, and the next we hear of him is that he was one of those who accompanied Argyle when he made his disastrous descent on Scotland in the spring of 1685. When the little fleet arrived off Kirkwall Mr Spence must needs go ashore to visit his uncle who lived there, along with one of the Earl's scouts. "Both," says Wodrow,[21] "were discovered and catched by the old bishop there. The Earl was peremptorily resolved to recover the two gentlemen, and ordered Sir Patrick Hume with a party of Fusileers to attack the town"; but the captains were obdurate {205} and nervous, and gave the Earl time only to seize seven islanders and a vessel "lying ther with meall and money," when the ships sailed away, leaving the unfortunate secretary to his fate.[22] He was sent down to Edinburgh,[23] indicted for treason, and remitted in due form to the Assizes, tried, and found guilty, and we seem at last to be near his end when we read that the Lords ordained Mr William Spence to be taken to the Cross of Edinburgh on Wednesday next, July 22nd, and there to be hanged. Before that day arrived, however, he got a reprieve, and on August 17th he was allowed to remove to a chamber in Edinburgh because of sickness—quite unaccountable leniency at a time when the authorities did not scruple to hang dying men in their night-shirts. The Magistrates were made responsible for his safe keeping, and he undertook to re-enter the prison on the first of September. His reprieve was now continued till {206} November 1st, and the last we hear of him was that in a letter from the King, dated October 14th, orders were given that he was to be kept a close prisoner. His master had been executed on June 30th, and had testified before his death that Mr William Spence had been to him a faithful friend and servant. It is impossible to say what became of him between this time and the Revolution, and unless he succeeded in escaping, it is highly probable that he remained in prison till the general clearance made by the alarmed authorities on the eve of that event. All we know for certain is that the General Assembly of 1690, amongst other items of business, declared his deposition null and void, and restored him to his old parish, the minister, Alexander Meldrum, having been deposed shortly before for not reading the Proclamation of the Estates, and not praying for their Majesties William and Mary. He remained in it only a few months, and in the autumn of 1691 he was translated to Fossoway, where he ended his days in peace in 1715,[24] at the age of 80, a clear proof {207} that he was a man of iron constitution as well as of iron will and iron convictions.

We have to go forward something like a hundred years before the parish or its fair stream comes again into notice, though probably in the interval occurred the summary act of justice commemorated by the Glendevon "Gallows Knowe," on which some of the last Highland reivers were hung, and also the tragic event at "Paton's Fauld," a spot a short distance from the old drove road opposite the "Court Knowe," where two local gipsy families effectively settled their quarrel by practically annihilating each other.[25] It was in August, 1787, that Burns first made acquaintance with the Devon, which he has celebrated in three of his poems, though it is evident that both on his flying visit to Harvieston and during the longer stay he made in October of the same year he was more pleased with the human flowers that bloomed on its banks than with the awesome grandeur of the Rumbling Brig, and that Peggy Chalmers and Charlotte Hamilton were more intimately associated with his fond memories of the Devon valley than Caudron Linn and the Deil's Mill. Although the ladies at Harvieston were somewhat disappointed[26] that the more prominent local glories did not inspire the poet to an outburst, it is clear that the subtle softness of the Devon scenery made a deep impression on Burns, if the more aggressive beauty of its waterfalls and gorges left him cold. You feel this in all he has written about it, and it is significant that in one of his last songs, composed when he was down in body, mind, and estate, his thoughts went back to the "crystal Devon, winding Devon," whose music seems to have got into his verse, and to the happy days he had spent on its "romantic banks" and amidst its "wild sequestered shades." It may be noted here that the "Holy Fair" was continued in Glendevon long after Burns' famous attack, and that down to 1835 the minister of the parish received an annual grant of five, and sometimes ten shillings, for grass destroyed at the Sacrament; while a handy parishioner also drew five shillings per annum for putting up the Communion tent on the glebe, and a little extra now and then for making a road to it.[27] It is impossible to say if Burns when at Harvieston was ever actually in Glendevon, but about thirty years later the home of the Taits, which the poet found so pleasant, is brought into close connection with the parish owing to an incident which had its own share in giving to the Church of England one of its wisest, if not one of its greatest, primates. It was in Glendevon House that young Archibald Campbell Tait, according to his own statement, which was found in his desk after his death, written on a sheet of foolscap, had an experience which he never forgot. His words are—"I had ridden over with my brother Crawfurd from Harvieston to Glendevon to visit old Miss Rutherford, and stayed the night in her house. I distinctly remember in the middle of the night awaking with a deep impression on my mind of the reality and nearness of the world unseen, such as through God's mercy has never left me."[28] And with this fragment of spiritual history our local record comes to a close. If the parish of Glendevon, nestling, like Burns' Peggy, "where braving angry winter's storm the lofty Ochils rise," and its clear winding river, occupy but a lowly place in Scottish story, they have something better even than archaeological treasures and stirring memories—the abiding presence of that spirit of beauty, which is above all change, and which ever haunts

"The green valleys Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows."



[1] Much of the legendary history of the Devon is given in the extraordinary poem "Glenochel," by Mr James Kennedy.

[2] See Registrum Monasterii S. Marie De Cambuskenneth, A.D. 1147-1535. Edinburgi: 1872; p. 122.

[3] History of the Reformation, Vol. I., p. 233.

[4] The parish was served by readers from 1568 to 1586, when the reader Symon Pawtoun was presented to the living, and, curiously enough, his successor, A. Marschell, after being minister for a year, was forced by the Presbytery to accept the lower position.

[5] See The Darker Superstitions of Scotland. By John Graham Dalyell. Glasgow: 1835; p. 579.

[6] Mr Wood Martin in his learned work, Pagan Ireland (London: 1895); describes similar usages still prevailing in Ireland.

[7] Dalyell, p. 671.

[8] History of the Rebellions in Scotland. By Robert Chambers. Vol. II., p. 87.

[9] Statistical Account of 1794, p. 234.

[10] Memoirs of the Marquis of Montrose. By M. Napier. Vol. II., p. 537.

[11] He was schoolmaster at Abernethy, and subsequently married the daughter of the parish minister. She died in 1708 at the age of 80.

[12] See Register of the Diocesan Synod of Dunblane. Edited by John Wilson, D.D. Edinburgh: 1877; page 91.

Before the passing of the Act of 1810 for augmenting parochial stipends in Scotland, the stipend was L21 17s 11d, the smallest in Scotland. 50 Geo. III., cap. 84.

[13] Diocesan Register, p. 251.

[14] Diocesan Register, p. 150.

[15] Historical Selections. From the MSS. of Sir John Lauder of Fountainhall. Vol. I., p. 138.

[16] Wodrow's History of The Sufferings of The Church of Scotland. II., p. 386.

[17] Wodrow II., p. 386.

[18] Graham Dunlop MSS., quoted in Story's Carstares, p. 80.

[19] See Fountainhall, p. 138.

[20] Story's Carstares, p. 82.

[21] History, II., p. 531.

[22] Fountainhall, p. 164.

[23] That his spirit was in no way cowed is obvious from the report of what he said and did when he was brought before the Privy Council and informed that "Argile was tane," and urged to tell everything. "He laugh't at them, and with a very obstinate and unbelieving carriage said—'If ye have the principall, what neids ye ask these questions at me.'"—Fountainhall, p. 187.

[24] Fasti Ecclesia Scoticanae. By Hew Scott, D.D. Vol. II., pp. 766-768.

[25] The ecclesiastical quarrel which began in 1765 when Mr Patrick Crichton was presented to the living, went on for several years, and only ended when the presentee, seeing that a peaceable settlement was impossible, retired.

[26] Chambers' Life of Burns, II., 144.

[27] Glendevon Session Records.

[28] Life of Archibald Campbell Tait. By R. T. Davidson, D.D., and W. Bentham, D.D. 2 Vols. London: 1891.



BY THE WELL OF ST. FILLAN

By Rev. THOMAS ARMSTRONG, Dundurn

"Harp of the North! that mouldering long hast hung On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring." —Lady of the Lake.

Any one who has visited the scene hallowed in tradition as the sojourn of St. Fillan, can understand how the genius of Scott should have traced to Fillan's spring that draught of inspiration which conceived such a splendid poem as the "Lady of the Lake"; for it is here that the scenery of Upper Strathearn reaches its climax of beauty and grandeur.

Take St. Fillan's Hill as the point of vantage, and the view is most entrancing. Looking towards Comrie and Crieff, we have at our feet the richest and most beautifully wooded part of Strathearn—the valley interspersed in the most picturesque fashion, with knolls richly clad with larch, oak, or hazel; while here and there the gleam of the River Earn betrays her course, where she has emerged from sombre wood, or deep and rocky gorge. In spring-time the eye is delighted and refreshed with the varieties of green—from the deep and sombre shade of the Scotch pine and the almost yellow and brown of the young oak to the exquisite freshness and tender beauty of the larch. In autumn it is one blaze of colour. At our feet an avenue of beeches glowing red; everywhere masses of oak of russet brown—the rich and varied tints of the bracken contributing their share to the similitude of a glorious sunset; and the whole picture is rendered complete to the eye by being set in that massive rocky framework, known as the Aberuchill range, whose stern and rugged sides add to the feeling of the picturesque and beautiful the sense of the sublime.

Looking westward, we have within our immediate view a contrast in the form of a fine piece of pastoral scenery—green fields with cattle or sheep grazing, ploughed land and cornfield, farm-steading, and all that suggests the peaceful but laborious life of the hardy sons of toil.

Almost at our feet, in striking solitude, we discern the chapel and burying-ground of Dundurn. The peacefulness of the place, and the solemn grandeur of the mountains which soar above, and seem as if placed there to safeguard the seclusion, are all in harmony.

From the point of view already taken, that noble Ben, called Biron, forces itself upon our admiration—a mountain with what we might call character—not of any common order—not beaten into any shape by the ruthless elements, but with many determined points, which have survived the war with winds and frosts and rains—an old veteran, who, in spite of the scars where the shadows rest, has a look of triumph about him, especially when his peaks at evening catch the setting rays of the sun, or peer through a surrounding mist.

Although we are not at any great altitude on the top of St. Fillan's Hill, we are yet high enough to get a glimpse of that gem of Highland lochs—Loch Earn, set literally at the feet of the hills, its waters murmuring a never ceasing song, as if happy with their near presence, having wooed and kissed their steep and rugged sides into silver strands and gently curving bays from end to end; and, indeed, the very woods, as if drawn by this music and this wooing, have come to the very water's edge to bathe and to drink, and to watch their graceful forms mirrored in the bosom of the loch.

I need no apology for thus dwelling upon the romantic scenery of the place, for if, in these matter-of-fact times, the fame and reputed virtue of the Well of St. Fillans have departed, and the days of pilgrimage to its source are over, still the pure air, and perfect peace, and wild and romantic surroundings remain, to minister their undoubted healing powers to wearied minds and jaded bodies.

In writing about the Well of St. Fillans and other places of antiquarian interest in this neighbourhood, it almost goes without saying that much must be taken on trust. People are prone to believe that the dirty pool of stagnant water which still remains in the driest summer on the top of St. Fillan's Hill is the famous spring to which pilgrims at one time resorted. Any one who examines it will not fail to observe that it has all the appearance of an artificially built well, and must have been kept in order and preservation for a purpose. Tradition confirms the belief that this was at one time the well, but not always. The Rev. Mr M'Diarmid, minister of the parish of Comrie about the beginning of this century, gives us the following account of it:—

"This spring, tradition reports, reared its head on the top of Dun Fholain (Fillan's Hill) for a long time, doing much good, but in disgust (probably at the Reformation) it removed suddenly to the foot of a rock, a quarter of a mile to the southward, where it still remains, humbled, but not forsaken. It is still visited by valetudinary people, especially on the 1st of May and the 1st of August. No fewer than seventy persons visited it in May and August, 1791. The invalids, whether men, women, or children, walk or are carried round the well three times in a direction Deishal—that is from east to west, according to the course of the sun. They also drink of the water and bathe in it. These operations are accounted a certain remedy for various diseases. They are particularly efficacious for curing barrenness, on which account it is frequently visited by those who are very desirous of offspring. All the invalids throw a white stone on the Saint's cairn, and leave behind them as tokens of their gratitude and confidence some rags of linen or woollen cloth. The rock on the summit of the hill formed of itself a chair for the Saint, which still remains. Those who complain of rheumatism in the back must ascend the hill, sit in this chair, then lie down on their back, and be pulled down by the legs to the bottom of the hill. This operation is still performed, and reckoned very efficacious. At the foot of the hill there is a basin made by the Saint on the top of a large stone, which seldom wants water even in the greatest drought, and all who are distressed with sore eyes must wash them three times with this water."

Of such holy wells, it may be interesting to learn that there were, previous to the Reformation, a great number throughout Scotland.[1] They were usually called after saints, because of the cells of saints being fixed near a spring. Hence these wells are usually in the vicinity of old ecclesiastical sites, and in many cases where the wells alone remain, they mark the place of those sites.

At these wells all diseases were supposed to be within the reach of cure. A student of the development theory might almost find traces of the growth of the specialist in them, for some of them acquired a fame for the cure of special diseases. The Well of St. Fillan, at Strathfillan, e.g., was famous for the cure of insanity; the Well of St. Fillan, about which I write, as has already been noticed, was much resorted to for the cure of barrenness; and if we transfer the virtue of the waters to the credit of the Saint under whose auspices a cure was wrought, we might say of St. Servan that he was considered a great oculist; of St. Anthony, that he was an eminent specialist in the treatment of children's diseases; for to the Well of St. Servan the blind were led, to the Well of St. Anthony, sickly and "backgane bairns." In accounting for the popularity of these wells, the philosopher will reflect that there is a kernel of truth in most widespread error. The truth in the well is the truth that underlay the hydropathic treatment involved, also the treatment of fresh air and exercise, and the extra exertion, the stimulus of change, and the excitement associated with such pilgrimages, not to speak of the power of faith, based though it was on error. From this point of view we may in some respects regard the modern hydropathic establishment as in the line of development with the holy well of old.

It is a testimony to the universality and the popularity of the holy wells in this country, and to the persistency of the superstition, after it had been condemned by the Reformation, that a public statute had to be enacted in 1579 prohibiting these pilgrimages, and that this having been ignored or defied, they had again to be denounced in the strongest terms in 1679. "It seems not to be enough," says this edict, "that whole congregations were interdicted from the pulpit preceding the wonted period of resort, or that individuals humbled on their knees in public acknowledgment of their offence were rebuked or fined for disobedience. Now it was declared for the purpose of restraining the superstitious resort in pilgrimage to chappellis and wellis, which is so frequent and common in this kingdom, to the great offence of God, the scandall of the Kirk, and disgrace of His Majestie's government, that commissioners diligently search in all such pairts and places where this idolatrous superstition is used, and to take and apprehend all such persons, of whatsoever rank and quality, whom they sall deprehend going pilgrimage to chappellis or wellis, or whom they sall know themselves to be guilty of that cryme, and to commit them to waird until such measures should be adopted for their trial and punishment." It is further of especial interest to note the local effort made to suppress these pilgrimages. In the records of the Synod of Perth there is a minute to the following effect:—

"It is found that there is frequent repairing on certain days superstitiously to some wells within this province, as to one called Dumlorn, in Comrie. In the meantime the Synod ordains and entreats all the gentlemen of these bounds where these wells, or any other of that kind are, that they would use all diligence against these abuses as they may according to the Acts of Parliament made thereanent."

Those who have an antiquarian turn of mind will, on visiting the top of Dundurn, where the original well is supposed to have been, find themselves expatiating upon other features of interest surrounding them. The hill itself, it will be remarked, is covered all round, with the exception of the precipitous front facing the east, with piles of loose water-worn stones. At first view they appear only an irregular mass, and seem to be there only to make the ascent more slippery and difficult. Mr Skene, in his Celtic Scotland; points out that here we have the remains of an ancient fort. It is only recently, however, that the subject has come in for thorough investigation by Dr. Christison, one of the Rhind lecturers on Archaeology, who, by careful measurements and by the extensive knowledge which he has brought to bear on the subject, has quite established the fact. One sees that from the east side of the hill the position is by nature impregnable against attack; while on the south, west, and north sides, it is the triumph of the antiquarian's research and skill to re-build for us in imagination a series of fortified lines and enclosures, the original sites of which time has not altogether obliterated. The fortress was known in early days as Dundurn, and must have been a stronghold of considerable importance.[2]

Looking down upon the plain below, the little chapel at our feet, called the Chapel of St. Fillan, also takes us back to antiquity, though to a less remote one than the fortifications. It takes us back to pre-Reformation times. There is no record of the century to which it belongs, and the only relic that has been preserved to us from the pre-Reformation period is a holy water font. It stood in a niche in the wall of the chapel. When, however, it was deemed advisable to remove the tottering roof and to preserve what of the building would make a picturesque ruin, the font was taken in charge by Colonel Stewart of Ardvoirlich, and handed over by him to the Trustees of the Dundurn Parish Church. Placed on a suitable stand, and with an appropriate inscription, this font will represent an interesting link between the past and the present.

This old chapel, doubtless at one time a place of worship, was abandoned at the Reformation, and was taken possession of by the Stewart clan as a burial vault about the year 1580. For a long time this interesting old burying-ground was allowed to remain in a state of shameful neglect. There seemed to be no direct responsibility on the part of any heritor for its upkeep, and what seemed everybody's business became nobody's. This condition of laissez faire was confirmed by a sentimental though unreasonable objection to shifting into their right position a number of head-stones which time and weather had either displaced or Darwin's worms had covered up. It was only five or six years ago that a Committee was formed, which in a regular manner, and with the consent of all parties interested, took in charge the upkeep of the burial-ground, with the aid of public subscription. A head-stone of great interest to antiquarians is one with figures of Adam and Eve sculptured in relief, while above these figures an angel is represented. The tree carved on the other side of the stone is evidently the tree of good and evil, and the whole represents in a crude way the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise. This Adam and Eve stone is considered very rare, there being very few known throughout the country. This one differs from the others in the absence of the serpent, which is usually represented on them. Another monument of considerable interest is to be seen within the chapel. It is a memorial tablet recently erected by the present Laird of Ardvoirlich upon the wall of the east gable and containing the following inscription:—"This chapel, dedicated in early times to St. Fillan, the leper, has been, since the year 1586, the burial-place of the sept or clan of Stewart of Ardvoirlich." Here follow the names of those buried beneath, with the dates of their decease. On glancing over the names there recorded, one will notice the name of Major James Stewart, and will remember that it is to the same memory that a stone still stands erected on the south side of the loch, about three miles up. We there read that this Major James Stewart was temporarily interred, and thereafter removed to his final resting-place at Dundurn. This member of the clan seems to have been of a fiery, irascible, and adventurous nature, and Sir Walter Scott, while in this neighbourhood, found sufficient material in connection with this personage to reproduce his likeness in his Allan M'Aulay of the Legend of Montrose. In his introduction to this romance the author gives an interesting account of his character, and sets before us two different versions of the part he acted in the death of Lord Kilpont; indeed, one will look upon the romantic scenery of this district with redoubled interest after a perusal of this work of the great novelist. With reference to this Major Stewart's tomb-stone on the side of the loch, which has just been referred to, the legend is that the Major died a natural death at Ardvoirlich, and his body was being carried to Dundurn for burial, but the Drummonds and Murrays, who were at enmity with the clan, threatened to intercept the funeral, and a snowstorm coming on, they interred the body on the loch side near the spot where the stone is, and subsequently took it to the chapel.

Another head-stone of considerable interest is to be seen hear the entrance to the grounds of Ardvoirlich itself. It marks the place where the remains of seven of the Macdonalds were interred, the legend being that that clan, on their way to or from a raid on Glenartney Forest, attacked Ardvoirlich House, and the men of the clan being absent with their cattle on the hills, the lady of the house kept them at bay until the men came down, and then they slaughtered all the Macdonalds, except one man, and their bodies were buried in a hole on the loch side. Years after, on excavating to make a pond for cattle to drink from, a number of human bones were found, and the stone was erected to mark the spot.

Another object of considerable antiquarian interest in the possession of the Ardvoirlich family is the charm-stone. It is said by tradition to have been brought from the Holy Land at the time of the Crusades by the Fitz-Allans, who were progenitors of the Stewarts, and who were active Crusaders. It was considered a most holy stone, and had healing properties of a high order. It is a very perfect specimen of rock crystal; the silver setting is Saracenic in character, and said to be very old. Up to 1840, and even later, people used to come to Ardvoirlich from long distances to have the stone immersed in water, while a Gaelic incantation was repeated by the laird or lady. Then the water was carried home, and one condition was that the possessor of the water must not enter any house until home was reached; then if given to cattle to drink, or sprinkled over them, it acted as a perfect cure for any murrain or disease.

On the death of the laird in 1854, the stone was sent into a bank for safe custody, and then all the healing properties were destroyed. It was said also that the last lady of Ardvoirlich who used it, and who was a Maxtone of Cultoquhey, had no Gaelic, and was too lowland by birth to believe in it, and she most irreverently (not knowing the Gaelic incantation) just repeated—"If it'll dae ye nae guid, it'll dae ye nae hairm," and that also destroyed the charm.

Another object which does not fail to attract the attention of the visitor to St. Fillans is the picturesque little island at the east end of the loch, called the Neish Island, for it has its romantic story to tell. "It is uncertain" (says John Brown in his description of the place) when or by whom "the island in Loch Earn rose into form or importance; but that it was entirely the work of man (and certainly it was no contemptible undertaking) is evident from its circular shape, the nature of the bed on which it is raised and surrounding it, and the purpose to which it might be made subservient in lawless times. The ancestors of the present family of Ardvoirlich made it their occasional residence, at the remote period when they held the eight-mark land on which St. Fillans is now built, an endowment which continued annexed to the Chapel or Priory of Strathfillan till its dissolution at the Reformation." On the island there are the remains of what appear to have been a number of dwellings. That it was used as a haunt or refuge by raiders is certain from the tradition which gives it its name of Neish Island. According to the tradition, it was the refuge of the remnant of the Clan Neish who had been defeated in a bloody battle with the MacNabs. There the former carried on a kind of predatory warfare with the MacNabs, and on one occasion so roused the wrath of the latter that a speedy and terrible revenge followed. The stalwart sons of the MacNab, urged by their wrathful sire, whose hint in the words—"The night is the night if lads were but lads," almost amounted to a command, equipped themselves with dirk, pistol, and claymore, raised a boat on their shoulders, and carrying it by night all the way from Loch Tay across the hills by Glentarken, launched it stealthily on Loch Earn, and taking the Neishes by surprise are said to have killed them all, except one boy, who made good his escape. The following lines by the Rev. John Hunter, Crieff, give very appropriate expression and colouring to this interesting tradition:—

Here sit we down on this fair sun-strewn bank, Beside this queen of lakes, whose loveliness From out of half-shut eyelids softly woos To sweet forgetfulness. Above, the wood, and interspersed knolls, Made greener by the pat of fairy feet And dancing moonbeams, fringe the rugged knees Of scarred and bronzed heights whose wind-notched crests Look grandly down. Fair scene and home of peace Ineffable; and yet not ever so, For I have seen these scars run full and white, And heard their trumpetings as they rush'd madly Adown the spray-sown steep, past wood and knoll, To mingle with the waters of the lake Vexed with the storm and sounding loud in sympathy. What have we here? What human trace of times When hearts o'erflowed, and hand and steel were swift, And red in the flashing of a hasty thought? Ah me! these times, these woful times when word And blow were wed, and none could sunder them, And honour'd live! See yonder isle set single In the lake, near by where Earn darts swiftly 'neath The rustic bridge to bear the music of the place To broader Tay, who murmurs from afar In the rich harmony of his many streams—yon isle, The haunt of lovers now, where hearts that touch And thrill, cling closer in the eerie sense Of fear that lurks amid the tumbled stones Of robbers' lair. Here, once upon a time, When might was right, and men made wrongful Gain of Nature's fastnesses, a ruffian couched And preyed upon his kind. Long time he throve, But vengeance woke at length, and the heavy tread Of frowning men from far Loch Tay—skiff-laden. Adown the glen they came one moonless night, Goaded by tingling sneer of white-hair'd sire. They rest where Tarken pours his scanty tide, Then silently—nor moon nor star appearing— Launch forth upon the lake, and softly steal Towards the caitiff's fire gleaming through the dark Like blood-shot eye. All saving one, and he Was left to skirt the shore and give the foe Rough welcome should he 'scape to land. Who then Fair-hair'd and young stood there in melting mood, With all his mother in his swimming eyes, Of abbot's line—with dirk half drawn, fearing, Hoping, praying, as his gentler nature bade That life and light would not go out together. The hope seem'd vain. From out the gloom there came The grinding keel—the tread of hurrying feet— Clashing of words, of steel, and all was dark— And all was still. But hark! a sound—the faint Breathing of one who swims with pain, the plash Of nerveless hands nearer and nearer comes, Yet ever fainter. What boots it now to have Escaped the vengeful swords that smote his kin? The waves engulf him and his bubbling cry. But unhoped help is near—a friendly word— A plunge, then stroke on stroke, and timeously A hand to save. Say not, ye thoughtless ones, That yon grim head, clean sever'd from the trunk, Was the chief trophy of that night. Nay; For kindly thoughts endure, and the High Will That holds all things within the ever-opening fold Of His eternal purpose—that High Will Look'd down with loving eyes that pierce the dark, And bless'd the deeds that glorified MacNab, The abbot's son—half-savage and half-saint. Time sped; the deed was not forgot, and still The tale is told when nights are long and the lone Owl hoots upon the hill. And now there stands Within bowshot of the isle—a house of God That calls to prayer—a parish church—the fruit Of kindly thoughts that stirr'd the watcher's heart, And clomb to Heaven in mute appeal, that night When vengeance smote and light and life went out together.

So much, then, for the prospect which an antiquarian standing by the Well of St. Fillan would embrace within the programme of his research. If we try to form a picture of the social condition of the people who lived in the midst of this fair vale of Earn in those early days, it is a scene of continual strife we conjure up—clan fighting with clan, and one feud succeeding another. These were the days of superstitious pilgrimages, days of rooted custom and unchanging faith. So much the better for the Saint. The halo of his sanctity shines out all the more against the background of ignorance and strife. If he were to re-visit those scenes now, how much would he have to deplore! No more pilgrimages, no more belief in miracles. What a downcome from his dignity to be the patron of a golf course or the chaplain of a curling club, instead of enjoying the fame and name of the holy well. Requiescat in pace.

The past was not all strife, however. Traces of agriculture lead us to picture this fine strath as at one time throng with peaceful and busy life. There were, no doubt, in those warlike times intervals of peace, when the inhabitants of the glen could tend their cattle and cultivate their potatoes and corn at leisure; and whether we look back upon this land of the "mountain and the flood" as having been the nursery of our best soldiers, or as having been peopled by a race rendered strong and manly by a simple mode of life, the present prospect of our Highland glens cannot but fill us with sad reflection when we behold the process of emigration and depopulation still going on, and when we see that ere long the only links with the past of a once strong and hardy race of people will be the mere traces of their cultivation, the ruins of their once populous hamlets, and the grave-stones in their old burying-grounds.

It is true there is a compensating process going on. For while one regrets the disappearance of the old thatched houses of the primitive village of St. Fillans and the migration of their youthful life to the city, the rise of the modern villa along the loch side speaks of the growth of a temporary population known as the "summer visitors." It is not likely that their peaceful pursuits—their climbing and pic-nic expeditions, their regattas and loch illuminations, will be considered to be as worthy to be recorded in a future "Book of Chronicles" as the feuds and raids of the past. Still, it is to be hoped that this land of "brown heath and shaggy wood" may even in this innocent way minister to the rearing of a healthy manhood and womanhood, and continue to be the nursery of that muscular body and brave spirit which in the past have made the name of Caledonia great.



[1] Proceedings of the Antiquarian Society, 1882-83.

[2] Fortrenn seems to have been the ancient name of a large district of Strathearn, of which Dundurn, or the fort of the Earn, was the capital.



THE PLAIN OF THE BARDS

By Rev. ARTHUR GORDON, M.A., Monzievaird

To supply even in brief outline a sketch of the united parishes of Monzievaird and Strowan is to cover many centuries and to recall some extraordinary events and remarkable persons. These parishes comprise an area of about eight miles long by six miles broad, and on the map somewhat resemble a pear. The scenery varies from the bare summit of Benchonzie, the limit on the north, where the highest elevation is reached at 3048 feet, and the wood-crowned Turleum, 1291 feet high, where "wind and water sheers," the southern boundary, down to the well-cultivated and nearly level carse, which lies all the way between Crieff and Comrie at about two hundred feet above the sea. The little hills abound with coigns of vantage, rewarding the pedestrian; while even the driving tourist finds a rich harvest for the eye in the wonderfully diversified landscape presented on all sides. The River Earn, if it lacks the majesty of the Tay and the impetuosity of the Garry, makes itself recognised as the dominating feature, whether in its quiet meandering moods or in the flooded temper, overflowing its banks and spreading its deposit of alluvial soil. Its tributaries—the Lednock, with its "Deil's Cauldron," and the Turret and Barvick, oft visited for their pleasing cascades, along with many another rivulet and spring—call up the Promised Land of old—"a land of hills and valleys which drinketh water of the rain of heaven." In climate, also, this part of Strathearn is singularly favoured, sheltered as it is from the biting east wind and fortified from the northern blasts by its mountain barriers. Its rainfall, also, is far from excessive; for many sky-piercing hill-tops tap the rain clouds from the Atlantic long before they reach Central Perthshire.

The name of the parish, now called Monzievaird, but formerly Monivaird, and anciently Moivaird, is believed to be Gaelic, and to signify, not the hill, but rather the "mossy plain" of the bards. It is difficult to say how far this carries us back. The Bards are not to be confounded with the Druids, a religious class from which they were quite distinct. The bards seem to have been the seanachies, antiquaries, poets, and genealogists. It was their special function to compose and to chant verses or rhymes in praise of their heroes or benefactors, and in the absence, so far as we know, of any method of recording past transactions or histories, we may believe that our ancestors transmitted orally, in lines composed by the bards, the memorable sayings and deeds which they wished to hand down to generations after them. How far they were worthy of credit, and how far they were subject to the vices of flattery or detraction we cannot tell, but we may be sure that those who were accounted great in these ancient times were anxious to have their doughty deeds immortalised, and perhaps were as sensitive to the tone of public criticism thus represented as is the statesman or warrior of to-day. What would we not give to hear from the living voice of one of those bards, were it only possible, the stores of traditionary lore of which they were the sole depositories! As it is, we can but lament the almost total absence of reliable information regarding their genius, perhaps also the jealous competition for the laureate's place in these pre-historic times.

Remains at the western end of the parish are supposed to represent two Druidical temples. Cairns and barrows have been numerous, and in one of these, on Ochtertyre, there was discovered, near the close of last century, a stone coffin, containing two coarse earthenware urns. One of these held burnt bones, and the other the bones of a head, having the lower jaw-bone and teeth in marvellous preservation. In the stone coffin was also found a stone hatchet about four inches long, bluish coloured, and of triangular shape, which evidently belonged to an age before iron was in use here. It is well known that the Romans had camps at Ardoch, Strageath, and Dalginross. Evidences of their presence in Monzievaird might, therefore, be expected, and they are not awanting. A Roman burial-ground of some extent, full of large slabs of stone, lies northeast of Clathick (hence perhaps the name), and is in a line between the camp at Dalginross—a circular burial-place near Victoria—and the Roman station on the Brae of Callander. In 1783 there was found in the plain of Monzievaird a bronze vessel resembling a coffee-pot, and in 1805 the bronze head of a spear was found in Ochtertyre Loch. In 1808 similar spear heads were found near the church, erected in 1804, which now serves the united parishes. These relics are pronounced by the best antiquarians to be undoubtedly Roman.

We now proceed to notice the first written account which history gives of Monzievaird. If there be any truth in the old chroniclers, a battle was fought here, and, after a long civil war, a contested succession to the Crown was settled by the slaughter of the reigning sovereign of Alban, a usurper who passes over the stage of history under the various names of "Gryme," "Girgh Mackinat Macduff," and reigned eight years. It may be worth while to give several references. John of Fordun's chronicle tells how Malcolm, son of Kenneth, strengthened by the favour of the people, and at the instigation of some of his chiefs, sent a message to the King, giving him the alternatives of either vacating the throne, or that they two should submit their cause to the just verdict of God by fighting, either man to man or accompanied by their warrior hosts. Gryme was very indignant at this defiance, while Malcolm, on the other hand, boldly advanced to meet him with a small but picked band, and reached a field called Auchnabard (the field of the bards), styled "a meet place for a battle." Here the two armies fought out a cruel engagement, till at length the King was mortally wounded, and, being led out of the battle by his men, died the same night. Thus Malcolm gained the victory and the kingdom. The register of St. Andrews calls the slain monarch "Kenneth (Grim)," and makes his death to be "at Moieghvard" in 1001. The Chronykil of Scotland calls this same place "Bardory," and in Latin "Campus Bardorum," which corresponds to Auchnabard. A cairn on a neighbouring height commemorates this conflict which made history; but the slain King was not buried here, but

"Carried to Colme-Kill; The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, And guardian of their bones."

The Church of Monzievaird was in all probability founded, by Saint Serf, and he was certainly its patron saint. If we are not compelled to postulate two saints of this name from the number of years covered by traditions which cannot all relate to the same person, we would incline to quit hold of the earlier and less definite tradition, and to consider Saint Serf as contemporary with Adamnan, the celebrated Abbot of Iona, and distinguished biographer of Saint Columba. St. Serf founded many churches, and his reputation in the Middle Ages for the neat and appropriate miracles attributed to him may be reckoned the measure of his eminence among Scotland's early evangelists. Wyntoun gives a quaint dialogue between St. Serf and the enemy of mankind, in which the Devil, plying the Saint with many knotty theological questions, wholly fails to overcome him, and suddenly departs. Another of these monkish miracles makes St. Serf discover the theft of a sheep by ordering it to bleat forth the story of its wrongs from the guilty stomach of the thief, and to redden his face with shame for having denied his crime! St. Serf's memory survives here in the well called after him, with its plentiful supply of water. As lately as 1760 the parishioners were wont to be drawn by a lurking superstition to drink of it on Lammas Day, leaving in it white stones, spoons, or rags, which they brought as remembrancers, just as devout Mohammedans still leave their prayer rags attached to the grating of the Mosque El-Aksa, at Jerusalem, or the lower branches of the giant oak that marks the site of the grove at Dan. St. Serf's festival and fair day long continued, and was kept on the 1st of July while the market lasted. The church itself was impropriated to the Abbey of Inchaffray, founded by the Earl of Strathearn about the beginning of the twelfth century, and was served by a vicar, to whom that monastery delegated the clerical duty, doubtless on the usual pittance of stipend.

The Tosachs, from the Gaelic word meaning "first" or "chief," were the old proprietors of Monzievaird. Their first residence was not at the old castle at Greenend, but at Balmuick, on the estate of Lawers, then called Fordie, and the foundation of the house was traceable at the close of last century. The chief of Monzievaird was accustomed to execute a man on the first day of every month, and this celebration of the almanac at Tom-an-Tosach was apparently designed to prevent the feudal rights of pit and gallows from falling into desuetude. The story runs that the last chief held nightly interviews with a fairy, a proceeding which aroused his wife's jealousy. She tracked him by a ball of worsted attached to his button, and, discovering him in conclave with the fairy, demanded her immediate destruction. Thereupon the fairy fled, and the power of the Tosach departed also. The inhabitants rose against him, and he had to seek refuge abroad.

Castle Cluggy, which stands on the peninsula on the north side of the Loch of Monzievaird, is undoubtedly very old, but how old no one can tell. A square tower, about 17 feet by 18 feet, with walls five or six feet thick, of tremendous strength, is all that now remains. It is said to have been a seat of the "Red Cumin," the rival of Robert the Bruce for the throne of Scotland, slain at Dumfries before the high altar. The prison is sometimes said to have been on the island in the loch, but really the dungeon must be sought under the foundations of the tower. In the charter giving Ochtertyre to the Murrays, in the year 1467, it is even then described as an "ancient fortalice." The key of the tower was found about fifty years ago on the east side of the building. The old church of Monzievaird, now converted into a mausoleum, was the scene of a dreadful tragedy, characteristic of the spirit of feudal times. The Murrays and the Drummonds were but ill neighbours in the days of James IV. The collision between them in this instance has been ascribed to the levying of tithes, but without historic grounds; and the law of retaliation is even older than that of teinds, and far more widely practised. In a foray which began near Knock Mary the Murrays or their retainers were overpowered and driven westward. They kept up a running fight round the western base of Tomachastel, and an obstinate struggle took place in the hollow between Westerton and the Loch, where many men fell. The Murrays, however, succeeded in reaching the church, where 120 men able to bear arms, with their wives and children, took refuge. They were followed by the Drummonds, reinforced, as some say, by Campbell of Dunstaffhage, and thirsting for vengeance. Even then they might have escaped, had not one of the Murray clan indiscreetly revealed their hiding-place by aiming a successful shot at one of the Drummonds. The Drummonds now summoned them to surrender, but in vain, and then piled wood round the long, low, heather-thatched edifice, and consumed it with its human holocaust. One Murray alone, David by name, escaped, being aided by one of the Drummonds, who was attached to his sister. He in turn was hated and persecuted by his own clan, and forced to escape to Ireland. After some years he returned thence under the effectual protection of the powerful Abbot of Inchaffray, who was a Murray. He was settled on the Abbey lands, and the property which he received still bears the name of Drummond-Ernoch (of Erin).

The massacre of Monzievaird was sternly avenged by King James IV. The Master of Drummond, leader of the party, and some of his followers were executed at Stirling. The estate of Drummond was required to provide for the widows and orphans, and further to expiate their sacrilegious crime by re-building the church. Even then the house of prayer could scarcely be called the abode of peace. It is said to have been the scene of fierce bickerings, and that the gauntlet of the Murrays was for many years fastened on a small gallery of the church, and formal challenge made to anyone to remove it before divine service was allowed to begin. When the foundations of the present mausoleum were being dug a quantity of charred wood was found, and very many calcined bones—those nearer the door on the west being of larger size than the others towards the east, which were probably those of women and children. They must have been buried as they lay.

The Murrays of Ochtertyre come of the Tullibardine family, and the present proprietor is the fifteenth in descent from the first. The addition of Keith to the ancient "Moray," changed to Murray, arose from marriage with the heiress of Dunnottar Castle, in Kincardineshire. It is a singular fact that the succession has uniformly descended from father to son. The existing house of Ochtertyre was built by the great-grandfather of the present Baronet, and for prospect it would be hard to equal it. The old house stood near the great ash tree further west, and a yet older is proved by a family record, which narrates the births of generations at Quoig House, above the church. Robert Burns' visit to Ochtertyre in 1787 and the two poems he produced are too familiar to need mention here. In the reign of Charles I. a mortality greater even than that caused by war almost depopulated the bonnie braes of Ochtertyre. The dreaded Plague assumed alarming proportions, and many huts were erected for isolation near the west end of Monzievaird Loch. The dead were not buried in the churchyard, but in a large sepulchral mound near the Marle Lodge gate.

The Right Honourable Sir George Murray, G.C.B., perhaps the most distinguished member of the Ochtertyre family, after meritorious service in Egypt and the Peninsular War, was chief of the general staff under Wellington at Waterloo. He also served the State as a politician, six times representing Perthshire in Parliament, and attaining among many honours the office of Secretary of State for the Colonies in the Duke of Wellington's Government of 1828. The present Baronet is a worthy successor of an honoured line, and his generous consideration for the public in throwing open his grounds and granting the fullest facilities for their enjoyment deserves the highest praise. It is claimed for Glenturret that the two last wolves seen in Scotland were killed there. But a similar claim has been advanced for Nairnshire, and, with far more likelihood, for the wilds of the Moor of Rannoch. The glen, however, was long famous for its falcons. In few places is the bird-life more various or abundant than in the woods of bonnie Ochtertyre. And the rabbit, introduced there while the present century was young, has evidently come to stay and to multiply.

At Upper Quoig two reputed witches once dwelt, but whether from greater fear or greater enlightenment here than elsewhere, they were never called to endure the ordeal either by fire or by water. They hunted in couples apparently, for the story goes that two men at Clathick, rising early on a May morning, saw them coming up the burn-side, putting a tether across the stream, and saying, "Come all to me." This incantation succeeded in providing the witches' dairy with a double supply of milk, while their neighbours had none! Verily many poor old crones have lost their lives on as trivial a charge. Passing westward to the compact property of Clathick, now owned by Captain Campbell Colquhoun, we learn that it was given off from Ochtertyre in dowry with a Miss Mary Murray. It was a curious marriage contract provision that her initials should be cut upon each lintel, and men were living thirty years ago who had seen "M.M." carved on the stones of the old house.

The estate of Lawers conjures up from the deep oblivion of ages many stirring times. It was originally "Fordie," but was named Lawers after the Campbells from Loch Tayside came into possession. How different our quiet Christian Lord's Days and "kirk-yard cracks" from these Sunday and festival occasions of bloodshed,

"When strangers from Breadalbane And clansmen from Loch Tay Brought to the priest their offerings, But fought each holy day!"

Still we may remark the ruined chapel almost smothered by the overturned yew trees that were planted, less, perhaps, to mark the "route" of the Mass carried in procession (hence "routine," corrupted into "Rotten Row,") than to furnish the twanging bow for these martial spirits. That great boulder-stone at the north-eastern end of the magnificent avenue opposite is, most likely, a Roman landmark, though it is customary to declare that the Earn once flowed past it. Colonel Campbell of Lawers was not only a sincere reformer, but John Knox's history tells us how he commanded a regiment raised to make good the cause of religious faith and freedom. His second successor was a yet more staunch and eminent Scotsman, knighted in 1620, and created Earl of Loudon in 1633. He proved himself a stout opponent of the arbitrary measures of Charles I. and Laud; was one of the most prominent actors in the Glasgow Assembly of 1638, and nominated to represent the Church of Scotland in the Westminster Assembly of Divines. He narrowly escaped being beheaded in the Tower of London, in spite of a safe conduct and without trial; but the fiat of the insensate monarch was recalled, and the warrant torn up by Charles a single day before the axe was doomed to fall, from fear of the odium and vengeance his death would have called forth. Not to remain Chancellor of Scotland (as he was for ten years) would he imperil the interests of religious liberty and national independence, just then threatened by Stuart absolutism; and yet he was a man of the type of the great Montrose, as loyal to the King as he was true to Church and people. Few deserve better to rank among "The Scots Worthies." He disponed Lawers estate to his brother, who, fighting against Cromwell at Inverkeithing, was badly beaten, and had his lands on the north of Loch Earn taken from him by an oppressive exaction put in force against him by the same Stuart dynasty, whose cause he had so faithfully championed.

A thrilling tale introduces the next laird of Lawers, son of the last named. He executed a punitive commission against his uncanny neighbours, the Macgregors, who determined on revenge. They surprised him at Lawers in bed, and threatened instant death, even in his wife's presence. He urged for time to pray, and that it might be for quietness in the chapel hard by, which request they granted. On the way thither he so played on their cupidity, offering them 10,000 merks if they would spare his life, that at last he prevailed. Faithful to his engagement, he raised this immense sum, much of it being gathered in halfpence, and carried on horseback to the appointed trysting-place. But Lawers was better than his word, for soldiers surrounded the house, and made the Macgregors prisoners. The game ended with checkmate, when the duped freebooters paid the death penalty in Edinburgh. Colonel David R. Williamson, the present laird of Lawers, has been long noted for his public spirit and eminent services to agriculture.

Tomachastel, the central wooded height of the parish, now surmounted by the monument, erected by his widow, in 1832, to the memory of General Sir David Baird of Ferntower, is marked out beyond all reasonable doubt as the site of the ancient Castle of Earn, for long the fortress dwelling of the great and powerful Earls of Strathearn. The title is now merged in the names of Royalty, like the Dukedoms of Rothesay and Albany. Our own beloved Queen's father was the Duke of Kent and Strathearn, as her third son is Duke of Connaught and Strathearn. No situation within the wide strath can compare with it in fair and far-reaching prospect, combined with facilities for defence; and the lighting of its beacon fire would be so universally observed over a wide domain that a personal summons, like that of the fiery cross, would scarcely be needed. Romance and gruesome horror are strangely blended here; for was it not from the walks in close proximity to the castle that the fair Lady Mary Graham, only daughter of stout old Malise, Earl of Strathearn, espied her future husband, John Moray of Drumshergart, fishing in the well-stocked pools below? And did he not find her society more engrossing than any (whole or half) scaly inhabitant of the mermaid's pool? The Morays of Abercairny estate (the fair lady's marriage portion) and many another territorial family claim descent from the union of these happy lovers. The rough hospitality, and swift, if not always impartial, administration of feudal justice are themes inviting to historic imagination; nor is the religious element wanting, for the Earls of Strathearn, besides founding Inchaffray Abbey, endowed the Bishopric of Dunblane with one-third of their domains. A sad and shameful story links the castle with the good King Robert the Bruce, and probably brought about its destruction. Joanna, only child of the seventh Earl, was Countess in her own right, and married to John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, and English Governor of Scotland. The husband and wife had different minds and purposes. The lady was found guilty of conspiracy, with Lord Soulis of Hermitage Castle and others, against the life of the good King Robert. She confessed her offence, and was condemned to perpetual imprisonment within her own castle. Constant tradition affirms that it was set on fire and burnt to the ground, whether as the result of accident or a successful siege. One story tells how the Earl tried to save his wife, but failed from the irresistible power of the flames. The castle became a ruin, and was never re-built. Actual observation, after more than 500 years, has confirmed the truth, in this case stranger than fiction. Sir David Baird, the hero of the Nile, Cape of Good Hope, Corunna, and Seringapatam (remembered by the oldest folk for hunting with hawks, attended by a native Indian), having died at Ferntower in 1832, was first buried in Monzievaird Churchyard, and old people still recall the extraordinary storm of thunder and rain which signalised his funeral day. His widow prepared the massive monumental obelisk of granite, said to be exactly similar to Cleopatra's Needle, since struck by lightning in 1878, and badly rent, but now restored. It required foundations broad and deep. Most of the stones of the old castle had gone to form dykes in the neighbourhood. The workmen, thinking they had to deal with solid rock, proceeded to blast it, when to their amazement the charge of gunpowder, instead of only throwing stones and debris into the air, operated downward and revealed a dungeon cut in the solid rock. There lay all that remained of the proud and daring Joanna, Countess of Strathearn and Princess of the Orkneys. A few gold and silver bracelets and ornaments, belonging to a lady's dress, were found among the black rubbish with another trinket, teaching the old, old lesson, "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity."

It only remains to describe the antiquities of Strowan. There was a Thane of "Struin" in Strathearn, in very early times, when Thanes were servants of the King, holding their land in fee-farm for a certain "census," or feu-duty. Strowan, like Monzievaird, had a Celtic saint for founder—St. Ronan. He is not to be identified with the saint of that name, of whom the venerable Bede records that he championed the later Roman method of calculating the time of the Easter festival against Bishop Finan of Lindisfarne, who stoutly held the Columban rule. Rather may we count him the same with the Abbot of Kingarth, in Bute (died 737 A.D.), and founder of Kilmaronog, on Loch Etive, the parish of similar name in Dumbartonshire, and the Parish Church of Iona, called after him "Tempul Ronain." St. Ronan's name is to this day associated with his well, the pool that never failed to supply him with fish on Fridays; the ruins of the old church or chapel, and St. Ronan's bell. Tradition says that the Cross of Crieff was taken from Strowan to Crieff upwards of 200 years ago. The market cross of Strowan now stands on a small mound west from the old kirk and near the mansion-house. A fine old lime tree which shaded it succumbed to the unprecedented storm of November, 1893; and all who know the venerable Laird of Strowan hope that he may live to see the young lime sapling with which he lately replaced it grow up to cast its shade over the cross once more. The latter is Maltese in form; and has on it, besides the initials of the Latin inscription on the Saviour's cross, I.N.R.I., the Moray star, and other symbols. It was probably taken from the churchyard. The arches of the bridge, with its narrow roadway and parapet, and little cities of refuge for foot-passengers, are not of a hoary antiquity; but the pillars, on which at one time planks used to be laid for crossing, are much older. The Kirk-Session records contain many entries of sums paid to the boatman for ferrying parishioners from the north side to Strowan Church. Picturesque ruin though the church is, it is not 230 years old in any part, and public worship on alternate Sundays was performed there till the beginning of this century. In 1669 the previous church was still standing, and in such repair that an application was made to the Synod to require the lairds of Monzievaird, Ochtertyre, Fordie, Clathick, &c., to attend the Church of Strowan in consequence of Monzievaird Church having become ruinous and past repair. The Commissioners of Teinds had ordered one church to be built near the present site, but the heritors of each of the united parishes did their best to evade complying. Two graves are deserving of special mention. One is the resting-place of "fair Helen of Ardoch"; the other marks the place of repose of the eldest son of the House of Strowan, who laid down his life on the sands of Tel-el-Kebir, bravely advancing to the charge against the Egyptian lines.

St. Ronan's Bell is preserved at Strowan House. It is small, circular, and looks as if it had been made to be grasped by the hand. Tradition says it was rung under the bell-man's gown when mass was said in Romish times. The tongue is wanting. Some say it never had one, but was meant to be struck from without. It never could have been heard afar off. Close scrutiny proves it to be slightly cracked. But worthless for music, it is excellent for law! It is the symbol of tenure of Ballindewar or Dewarland. (Dewar is from the Gaelic for keeper). The Dewars were the hereditary beadles of Strowan, and keepers of St. Ronan's bell. They held their croft free of all cess, stipend, or public burden, as it still remains. When the present Laird of Strowan negotiated at a high price the purchase of this piece of land, he received with "the bellman's pendicle" the bell itself as the charter of the feu lands, and as custodier of all rights of the same.

The saddest feature in making this short survey of the united parish is the great and continuous decline of the population. In 1755 there were 1460 people; in 1793 there were 1025; in 1891 the number had sunk to 490. No doubt the livelier prospects of town life allure many. No doubt many have profited by the fact of removal. The agricultural outlook appears gloomier than ever, which tends to restrict the area under cultivation. But it cannot be gainsaid that many have had to remove from the mistaken policy of adding land to land and field to field. It is breaking down when viewed in the sole interest of the proprietor; how much more is it found wanting when viewed from the standpoint of the wider interests and welfare of our common country?

The minister of Monzievaird and Strowan most likely to achieve immortality is the Rev. William Robertson, the gifted versifier and author of Hymns 3—"Thee God we praise, Thee Lord confess," the Monzievaird Te Deum, and 311—"A little child the Saviour came," the first baptismal hymn, in the Scottish Hymnal. To him the account now given, incomplete as it is, owes more than to any other. He has also cast into verse that seems worth preserving his parish musings in the following lines:—

A shady knoll o'erlooks a dale Where Earn meanders down the vale; A knoll enwreathed in oak and fern, The sweetest nook in all Strathearn. The morn there breaks with earliest ray, Here latest shines the lingering day, There summer reigns supremely fair, And winter ev'n is lovely there. Its eastern prospect looks entire Along the glades of Ochtertyre; Its south, a mountain forest shade By dark blue pine and larches made; While lone Glenartney in the west Lies cradled like a turtle's nest, And huge Benvoirlich crown'd with snow Defends the smiling glens below. Dear shady knoll, whose varied view Enfolds green field and mountain blue, How oft at morn and eventide I've strolled around thy stony side And listened to the artless song That swell'd the glorious vale along! Mark'd where the sunbeams kindliest fell On rocky ridge and heathery dell, And yielded all my soul to share The teachings of a scene so fair! In storm or calm, thy grateful shade My fond retreat was ever made. There have I marked the thunder cloud Invest all heaven with sable shroud; There heard the peal arouse again The echoes of the Turret glen, While Auchingarroch from afar Rolled back the elemental war; There have I watched wing'd lightning play Adown Glenartney's rugged way, Or gild each flinty summit hoar From Callander to far Ken More; There seen the Ruchill deluge foam, And o'er the strath in eddies roam, Sweeping beyond the power to save A golden harvest on its wave.

* * * * *

High on my left, unstained by storm, An obelisk uprears its form; Commemorates in fitting style Heroic deeds upon the Nile, When he who conquered in Mysore To Afric's sands his legions bore, And showed the trembling prince and slave The gentleness of one that's brave. Yet on that monumental stone More feats of high renown are shown, Where he a prisoner and enchained, At last his noblest laurels gained: Lived to avenge each treacherous wrong, And triumph when he suffered long. There, too, his brilliant tasks to cope, 'Tis told he seized the Cape of Hope; And sad Corunna's bloody shore But added to his fame the more. A widow's love the warrior praised, A widow's love the column raised; And yet that column tall and bold, Traced in the lines of Egypt old, Arises as a new cut stone Amid the dust of ages gone; For while it tells of yesterday, It stands upon the summit grey Where stately tower and donjon stern Were keep and tomb of fair Strathearn; Where Wallace oft his prowess tried, And royal Bruce in valour vied. Talk we of Bruce? By yon dark wood The Comyn's ancient fortress stood— That traitor whose unhappy fate Still on the monarch's conscience sate, And urged him in a zeal divine To send his heart to Palestine.

See where the waters dash aside, And swiftly round the thicket glide, Where mossy crag and fan-like bough Inshade the torrent far below. Within a towery wilderness Of nature's wildest gorgeousness, There rose in architecture quaint The cell of Strowan's valiant saint— A soldier-priest whose claymore long Was more persuasive than his tongue; Here stands his cross, there flows his well, Here still is seen his holy hell; Here, ivy-mantled, still remain The ruins of the ancient fane, Where once to heaven the anthem rose, And silent now the loved repose.

On every side each scene has store Of song and legendary lore; Each stream has still its story true, Each height some bloody conflict knew; Each crag must give its meed to fame, And consecrate a hero's name. High o'er the rest, all bleak and dern, Moulders the royal Kenneth's cairn, Who for his crown his good sword bared, And fell in fight at Monzievaird. Even in their church, the doom of fire Consumed the clan of Ochtertyre; And in his home across the plain, Old Drummond-Ernoch was slain; Sons of the mist avenged their dead, And bore away his grisly head.

Old tales like these, old legends true, Spring up where'er I turn my view— From Turret's glen and brawling wave, From Tosach's keep and fairy grave, From Ochtertyre's unfading bower, From Comyn's lone and moated tower, From where our chief with skilful eye Watched wonders in the midnight sky, From Tomachastel's haunted brow, From cell for Ronan's prayer and vow, From lordly Drummond's forest wall, From Lochlane's grim empannelled hall, From stately Turleum clothed in pine, And every height surrounding mine. 'Twere idle then each tale to tell, Of ancient feat by stream or dell, From Benychonzie's snow-clad breast To green Glenartney in the west, Or round by sweet Dunira's den, Where "bonnie Kilmanie gaed up the glen." No need I ween of distant view My sauntering footsteps hence to woo; No need of song or knightly feat To add new charm to my retreat. Its own associations claim Far better meed than modern fame, With books and scenes and neighbours sage, I commune with a former age.



BETWEEN STRATHALLAN AND STRATHEARN

By Rev. JAMES MACGIBBON, B.D., Blackford.

The name Blackford was given, according to tradition, by an ancient king of Caledonia, whose experience in passing the River Allan at this point was of the saddest. The stream spread itself out in those days, says the story, so as to be more lake than stream. When the king came to it with his queen and suite the waters were deep and the current strong. It must have been at night surely, if we are to have any faith in the tale, for the poor queen was carried away beyond help and hope. They drained the strath dry to recover the body; and a solitary knoll on the Allan's bank some way below the present village marks the place where they found and buried the remains of fair Queen Helen. Hence the name Blackford. In the days of the Roman occupation the legionaries frequented this upper part of Strathallan, and have left traces of their presence. Many of them, indeed, must have quartered near; for at the Loaninghead, about two miles east of the village, there is an undeniable Roman camp, an outpost of the great camp at Ardoch.

But the earliest historical reference to Blackford is in Blind Harry's "Acts and Deeds of Sir William Wallace." After taking the peel of Gargunnock, Wallace and his men passed up Strathallan on the way to Methven, and at Blackford met a party of the English, whom they slew, and threw their bodies into the Allan.

"At yai Blackfurd, as at yai suld pass our,[1] A squeir come, and with hym bernys four. Till Doun suld ryd and wend at yai had beyne All Inglismen, at he befor had seyne. Tithings to sper he howid yaim amang. Wallace yarwith swyth with a suerd outswang. Apon ye hede he straik with so great ire, Throw bayne and brayne in sondyr schar ye swyr. Ye tothir four in hands sone wer hynt, Derfly to dede stekyt or yai wald stynt. Yar horss yai tuk, and quhat yaim likit best, Spoilzied yaim bar, syne in the brook yaim kest."

Further on in the same story, we learn that Wallace after slaying Fawdoune, and seeing his ghost at Gask Hall, rode south, hotly pursued by the English. He forded the Earn at Dalreoch, and crossed the Muir of Auchterarder. "Ye horss was gud," but the forced pace sorely taxed its strength; so "at ye Blackfurd" he alighted and walked. After he had gone a mile his pursuers overtook and harassed him. They had great advantage, being on horse, while he was on foot; yet Wallace beat back the foremost of them, recovered his seat, and fled towards Sheriffmuir.

"Quhil yat he cum ye myrkest mur amang,[2] His horss gaiff our and wald no furthyr gang."

Then, rather than let the steed fall into the hands of the enemy,

"His houch sennownnis he cuttyt all at anys, And left hym yus besyde ye standand stanys. For Southrone men no guid suld off hym wyn. In heith haddyr Wallace and yai can twyn."

In the year 1488, according to the Lord Treasurer's accounts, King James IV., returning from his coronation at Scone, halted at Blackford for refreshment:—"Item—Quhen the King cum forth to Sanct Johniston for a barrel of Ayll at the Blackfurd, xijs." Again, on November 7, 1496, on a journey from Methven to Stirling:—"Item—That samyn day at the Blackfurd quhaire the King baytit for corn to the horss, ii.s."; and the same year, on the way to Perth, March 12th—"Item—Giffen at the Blackfurde quhair the King drank as he raid by, xiiii.d." In 1498 there is the curious entry:—"Item—xxv March, to ane woman of the Blackfurde that brocht coppis to the King and at the Kingis command, xiij.s. iiii.d." These "coppis," probably wooden drinking cups or quaichs, were evidently of some value according to the reckoning of that day. A more quaint and artistic record of this monarch's doings was made later in Tullibardine. Pitscottie tells that in 1511 King James IV. built "ane very great monstrous schip," called "The Micheall." Nearly all the woods of Fife were cut down to provide the necessary timber, in addition to that brought from Norway. A year was spent in the building, and the cost to the King was L40,000. When complete she was manned by 300 sailors, 120 gunners, and 1000 "men of warre," besides officers. The dimensions of this leviathan were 240 feet long, 36 feet broad, and the sides 10 feet thick, "so that no cannon could doe at hir"; "and if any man believes that this schip was not as we have schowin, latt him pas to the place of Tullibardyne quhair he will find the breadth and length of hir sett with hawthorne."[3] Three of these thorn trees were standing in 1837; none of them exist now. A farmer, to improve his field, rooted them out, and did his best to fill up the hollow representing the hull; but spite of these obliterations, the plan of the great ship may be traced yet.