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fort or garrison on the Lochy, in order to keep the county in awe, and the refractory chief within due bounds. His troops arrived by sea, and brought with them such abundance of materials, that they erected the fort in a single day after their landing, and thus secured themselves against the attack which the Camerons were meditating. Sir Ewen kept watch upon their proceedings from a neighbouring eminence, and retired into the wood of Achadallin, on the north side of Loch Eil, where he dismissed all his followers, excepting thirty-eight chosen men; but he had spies in and around the garrison, who informed him of all that was passing.

Five days after their arrival, the governor of the fort, Colonel Bigan, despatched three hundred of his men on board of two vessels, which were to sail westward up Lochiel, and anchor on both sides near Achadallin. The vigilant chief, being informed that the design of this expedition was to cut away his wood, and carry off his cattle-determined to make them pay dearly, if possible, for every tree and every hoof they might plunder. Concealed by the thickets, he approached close to the shore, and counted the soldiers as they landed from the ships, when he found their number exceeded one hundred and forty armed men, besides a considerable body of workmen, provided with axes and other instruments. Having ascertained the strength of the foe, Lochiel returned to hold a council of war. The older men of the clan remonstrated against so rash and hazardous an enterprise as attacking a force so very superior; but the younger were eager for the encounter. The chief himself, then in the vigour of life (he was born in 1629), and prompted by emulation of the renowned Marquis of Montrose, "who was always in his mouth," and with whom some of his men had served, insisted, in a short spirited harangue, that if his people had any regard for their king, or their chief, or any principle of honour, the marauding English should instantly be attacked ; "for, (says he), if every man kills his man, which I hope you will do, I will answer for the rest!" This appeal could not be withstood, and his followers consented to the proposal, on condition that he and his

younger brother, Allan, should remain at a distance, until the fate of the day was decided.

Lochiel spurned the terms, so far as regarded himself, but caused his brother to be bound to a tree, and placed under the charge of a boy, in order to prevent him from mingling in the fray. The gallant youth, however, flattered or threatened his keeper to disengage him, and hastened to the conflict. The Camerons, says Pennant's narrative, being more than thirty in number, armed partly with muskets and partly with bows, kept up their pieces and arrows till the very points and muzzles almost touched the breasts of the enemy, when the very first fire took down above thirty. They then drew their swords, and laid on with incre dible fury. The English defended themselves with their muskets and bayonets with great bravery, but to little purpose. The skirmish continued long and obstinate. At last the English gave way, and retreated towards their ship, with their faces to the enemy, fighting with astonishing resolution. To prevent their escape, Lochiel commanded two or three of his men to run before, and make a noise from behind a bush, as if there were another party of Highlanders to intercept their retreat. This stratagem took so effectively, that the fugitives stopped, and actuated by rage, madness, and despair, they renewed the combat with greater fury than ever, and wanted nothing but proper arms to make Lochiel repent of his rashness. But at last they were forced to give way, and betake themselves to their boats, the Camerons pursuing them chin-deep in the loch. Of the English, 138 were counted dead, but of the Camerons only five were killed.

In this engagement, Lochiel himself had several wonderful escapes. During their retreat, one of the strongest and bravest of the English officers retired behind a bush, where he observed the infuriate chief pursuing; and seeing him quite unaccompanied, he leapt upon him, thinking to make him his prey. They met with equal fury, and the combat was long and doubtful. The Englishman had by far the advantage in strength and size, but Lochiel exceeded him in activity and agility, and in the end succeeded in striking the sword out of his hand. Upon this,

the disabled officer flew upon his antagonist with tiger-like rapidity. They closed, and wrestled, till both fell to the ground in each other's arms. The Englishman got above Lochiel, and pressed him hard; but in attempting to disengage himself, and stretching forth his neck, Lochiel, who by this time had his hands at liberty, seized him by the collar, and catching his extended throat with his teeth, he bit it quite through, and kept such a hold of his grip, that he brought the mouthful entirely away, declaring afterwards, "that this was the sweetest bite he ever had in his lifetime!" When he had disengaged himself from this antago nist, he followed his men into the loch, to attack the ship; and observing a soldier on deck aiming his firelock at him, he plunged in the water and escaped, but so narrowly that the hair on the back part of his head was cut, and the skin a little ruffled. A second attempt was made to shoot him, when he owed his life to the devoted generosity of his foster-brother, who threw himself before him (no uncommon thing in the Highlands at that time), and received the shot in his mouth and breast, nobly preferring his chief's safety to his own.

Within a few days after, Lochiel attacked another party of the garrison, who were marching into the country, within half a mile of the fort, killing a few, and capturing several prisoners. On another occasion he fell upon a large detachment of nearly five hundred men, who had come out to cut and bring in wood. Having watched their motions from a convenient spot, he attacked and routed them with great slaughter; above a hundred were slain, on the spot, and the pursuit was continued to the very walls of the garrison. Not an officer of the English escaped, they being the only persons that made active resistance.

For a

long time this daring chief continued the pest and terror of the garrison, frequently cutting off small parties by stratagem or force; but his name was held in such dread, that they soon learned to keep out of his reach. Lochiel at last consented to give in his submission to Cromwell, in 1655, and pledged his word of honour, which was held equivalent to an oath, "to live in peace." He and his gallant clan were allowed to retain their arms, as

before the war broke out. Reparation was also made to him for the wood which the governor of Inverlochy had cut on his grounds, and to his tenants for all the losses they had sustained from the garrison. Lochiel performed the ceremony of submission in presence of the governor, which was merely laying down his arms in name of Charles II., and taking them up again in name of the States. His loyalty returned, however, after the death of Cromwell, and he continued to the last a firm supporter of the Stuarts. He fought with Viscount Dundee at Killiecrankie, and contributed not a little to the victory which the partisans of James gained on that occasion; but when the cause became hopeless, he accepted of King William's indemnity. This singular man outlived not only all his perils and broils, but survived his own faculties, having reached the extraordinary age of ninety, his mind and body being so impaired that he required to be rocked in a cradle, in a state of second childhood.

The stupendous mountain of Ben Nevis is quite a land-mark on all sides, and is certainly the most prominent feature in the vicinity. In our contracted nomenclature, we would scarcely recognise its Gaelic name of Beinn-neamh Bhathais, which means the cloudcapped hill, the mountains with its summit in the heavens. This monarch of the Scottish Alps, has been often described; and in any account of it we might give, it is scarcely possible to avoid, or supersede, what has been said already. It lies to the eastward of Fort William, rising abruptly from the plain, to the height of 4,370 feet. The circumference at the base is supposed to exceed twenty-four miles; and as it is close to the sea, and almost completely isolated from the adjoining hills by two yawning ravines, its circuit is well defined, and none of its vast proportions are lost to the eye. This renders its appearance peculiarly imposing, and sets off its rugged and massive majesty to great advantage. The ascent must be a journey of great labour, and when the summit is gained, the noble panorama, which we had not the pleasure of beholding, is said to surpass all imagination.

But what we cannot describe from personal inspection, we may be allowed, perhaps, to supply from the

experience of another. And we prefer the homely account given by Sir John Sinclair, more than half a century ago:

"It is easily ascended by a ridge of the mountain, towards the west, about a quarter of a mile up the river Nevis. There is good pasture for sheep here, as well as on the surrounding hills, for a great way up. The view is entirely confined within Glenevishill, till you have got up about 500 yards, perpendicular. The valley, though confined, presents an agreeable prospect; the vista is beautified with a diversity of bushes, shrubs, and birch-woods, the seats of roes and deer, besides many lovely spots of green. A river at the bottom of the vale, which, after being broken by heap of mis-shapen stones, glides away in a clear stream, and wandering through woods, vales, and rocks, loses itself in the sea. This is such a prospect as must expand the heart, and delight the spectator, attached to the charms of nature; and recall to the mind the days of old, when princes and princesses are said to have tended their herds and flocks, amidst the beauties of Arcadia.

"Upon ascending above this height, the prospect opens and enlarges towards the south-west, and you behold the strait of Corran, the islands of Shuna and Lismore, the south-east part of Mull, together with the islands of Suile and Kerrera, on the opposite coast of Argyle. At this altitude, two elevated hills make their appearance over these isles; which, by their shape declare themselves to be the Paps of Jura. Turning to the west, you see the small isles, particularly Rum and Canna, and the sound that seperates them from Skye; and beyond all these, the Cullin hills. From the altitude of 600 or 700 yards upward, there is no vegetation at all, but merely rocks and stony parts, without even a mixture of earth. These parts are called Scarnachs; they are quite flat, and may be walked over without any detriment. Upon entering into them, some excellent springs of water are to be found.

"Here one is deceived with the appearance of a high post, which seems to be the top of the hill. The deception returns, and is repeated twice or thrice before you reach the summit, which is flat, and bears some resemblance to the segment of an arch, held in a horizontal position. The left side appears to be the highest, hence you walk with ease over the flat, weather-beaten stones that lie close to each other, with a gentle declivity, and form an easy pave

ment to the foot. You now come, all at once, to the brink of a precipice on the north-east of the mountain, almost perpendicular, certainly not less than four hundred or five hundred yards, perhaps more. A stranger is astonished at the sight of this dreadful rock, which has a quantity of snow lodged in its bosom through the whole year. The sound of a stone thrown over the cliff to the bottom cannot be heard when it falls, so that the height of the precipice cannot be ascertained by that easy experiment. Looking to the east, Loch Laggan appears, and to the south-east, Loch Rannoch, in Perthshire, &c. The whole of the great glen of Scotland, from Fort George to the Sound of Mull, is at once in view; comprehending the fresh-water lakes of Ness, Oich, and Lochy, and all the courses of these rivers, from their source to the place where they enter into salt-water, running in opposite directions-the one, north-east, the other, south-west. The extent of view, on the horizon of the sea, is about eighty miles. One sees, at once, across the island, eastward, to the German Sea, and westward, to the Atlantic Ocean. The high hills on each side, opening like huge walls or ramparts on every hand, yield a curious variety of agreeable, wild prospects, the vast windings whereof make the several turnings of the mountains rather diversify the scene than obstruct the eye. Their extremities, declining gradually from their several summits, open into valleys, where one has variegated views of woods, rivers, plains, and lakes. The torrents of water, which here and there tumble down the precipices, and in many places break through the cracks and cliff's of the rocks, arrest the eye, and suspend the mind in awful astonishment. In a word, the number, the extent, the variety of the several prospects-the irregular wildness of the hills, the rocks, and precipices-the noise of rivulets and torrents, breaking and foaming among the stones in such a diversity of shapes and colours-the shining smoothness of the seas and lakes, the rapidity and rumbling of the rivers, falling from shelve to shelve, and forcing their streams through a multitude of obstructions-the serenity of the azure skies, and the splendour of the glorious sun, riding in the brightness of his majesty, have something so charmingly wild and romantic, and so congenial to the contemplative mind, as surpasses all description, and presents a scene, of which the most fervid imagination scarcely form an idea. The traveller who is so callous as to behold all this, and not feel the greatness and majesty of the Almighty architect impressed

can

upon his heart, must, indeed, be strangely void of taste, of sense, and of sentiment. It affords a lesson, worthy of travelling up the mountain to learn. Few can perform a journey to the top of Ben Nevis, and make proper observations, going and returning, in less than seven hours; and still fewer, without feeling in their limbs the effects of the fatigue for a day or two after."

However much we might regret the loss of all this picturesque mountain scenery, the disappointment was not without its advantages. Our limbs had undergone no fatigue, and we had gained a day, which allowed us to prepare an excursion to Loch Laggan. The whole of this route is extremely beautiful and romantic. On the brink of a tremendous precipice, overlooking the river Lochy, are the remains of Tor Castle, a place of great antiquity, and alleged, by tradition, to have been the residence of Banquo. The parish kirk is on the opposite side of the canal; and at no great distance from it, is a monument, a handsome obelisk, erected to the memory of Colonel John Cameron, eldest son of Sir Ewen Cameron of Fassfern, who closed a life of twenty years' active military service on the memorable 16th of June, 1815. The obelisk, overshadowed by a clump of trees, stands on the margin of Loch Eil, opposite the entrance to the Caledonian Canal. This parish (Kilmalie) has been long celebrated as a nursery for the army, and has produced many brave soldiers; and, amongst other natives who have distinguished themselves, was the identical Samuel Cameron, who struck down, with his enormous Lochabar axe, the brave and pious Colonel Gardiner, at the battle of Prestonpans, in 1745. He and his comrades on that occasion used to allege, that they acted in self-defence, as the Colonel attacked them, galloping up to set an example to his men. In the rebellion of that year, the Camerons followed their chief, who joined Prince Charles-a measure, of which they had sufficient cause to repent. The present mansion of Locheil is Achnacarry, near the small bay of Arkaig, on the north side of Loch Lochy. Close beside the modern building, are the walls of the old mansion, which was burnt, in 1746, by the Duke of Cumberland.

The glen which we were now tra

versing, extends to the north of High Bridge about ten miles. It gradually becomes narrower for fourteen miles, until the whole breadth, a little above Keppoch, is occupied by the bed of the rapid river Spean-three miles above that, it begins to widen again, and terminates at the west end of Loch Laggan. The hills forming the northern boundaries of this glen, are not so majestic, nor so continuous as those on the south side. Nothing astonishes the traveller so much as the varied aspect of the country.

On approaching it, one is apt to conclude that he is entering a wild region of barren and heath-covered mountains, unfitted by nature for the habitation of man. So dreary and gloomy is the scene, that he is ready to imagine he has left behind him every spot in which human wit and industry can be exercised to any beneficial purpose. And his surprise is increased when, amidst this barrenness and desolation, he occasionally gets a glimpse of green vales and fertile fields; particularly about the bridge of Spean, where it is joined by the river Roy. The space between is well cultivated, and boasts of several good farm-houses, such as that of Keppoch. The chieftains of this clan (Macdonalds) have always been distinguished for their bravery, and frequently shown the mettle of the hardy mountaineers. Beyond the bridge of Roy the channel of the Spean gets deep and rocky, the cultivated region disappears, and a bleak moorland, studded with coppice and birch, continues to the margin of Loch Laggan. Here, however, the scenery is really splendid and imposing. The Benalder hills to the south, rise in sharp precipitous peaks, one above another, as if they had been torn asunder and thrown into their fantastic attitudes by some violent convulsion of nature. Ben Nied towers above the loch, and the lodge of Ardverikie, with dark woods covering its base, and green heather spreading high up its sides; while the Aberarder range towards the north, appear to lose themselves in the rugged heights of Corryarick.

The situation of Ardverikie is truly romantic; and if its internal accommodations at all correspond with the scale of its erection, it might be a residence fitting for a Queen, for

it is said to pay taxes for sixty windows. The loch is eight or nine miles in length, and about one and a-half in breadth. The extensive wood (Coillmore) on the south side, is said to be a remnant of the Caledonian forest, which was a famous hunting-place, abounding formerly with deer and roe. This is probable enough, as memorials of this royal sport are still associated with the spot. Two small islands in the loch, near Ardverikie, are called Eilan an Righ, the king's island; and Eilan nan Con, the dog's island, where it is supposed the animals were kennelled or secured after the chase. Here, too, is a place held sacred from the most remote antiquity, and said to mark the graves of seven kings of the Caledonians, about the period when the Scots were driven by the Picts beyond the Tay, and had their seat of government at Dunkeld.

The house of Cluny is one of the most distinguished in the district. An ancestor of the present chief figured in the rebellion of 1745, and many anecdotes are told of the singular artifices by which he contrived to secrete himself, after the battle of Culloden, for many years, in the neighbourhood of his own castle. At first he was in the king's service, but being taken prisoner, he consented to join the Prince's standard. When Charles marched south, Cluny accompanied him to Edinburgh, was present with his regiment at the battle of Prestonpans, followed him to England, had the rear-guard in the skirmishes of Clifton and Penrith; and, with about 600 Macphersons, put two regiments of the Duke of Cumberland's dragoons to flight. He was not at Culloden, but after that battle he became the object of the Duke's special vengeance. Nevertheless, in spite of all that he and his spies could do, the chief continued to set their vigilance at defiance, and to conceal himself for nine years in Laggan. He had, however, many narrow escapes, in which he evinced much adroitness and presence of mind. On one occasion, when residing at a gentleman's house, a party of soldiers was seen approaching; escape was impossible; but having quickly equipped himself in the habiliments of one of the gillies of the house, with hands and face half blackened for the occasion, and with head and legs quite bare, he

went out to meet his pursuers. The officer gave him his horse to hold, while he and the party made search for the obnoxious chief within; and after the search was over, he rewarded him with half-a-crown for his pains!

Among other contrivances, he had a small hiding-hole, formed of sticks and turf, in the salient angle of a wooded hill, and with so much art that the soldiers stationed in the district, though they suspected he was in concealment very near them, and, of course, kept a good look-out, were never able to discover his place of retreat. But at length he became so adventurous, as frequently to in dulge in the pleasures of his family fire-side, and in this way his pursuers got notice of his movements. A party was dispatched to the place, and as Cluny had plied his glass rather freely, they might have easily secured their prey, had not a kindly messenger given timely intelligence of the enemys approach. Hastily wrapping him in a plaid, his domestics carried him out, and concealed themselves in the brushwood which skirted the river, till the red-coats, who had just gained the opposite bank, crossed the ford, and proceeded to the castle, when they passed in safety. In this hunble retreat, Cluny had another very narrow escape one of his clansmen having accidentally stumbled through the roof of his chieftain's bower, was astonished to discover that the inmate was the "laird himsel." The recognition was mutually surpris ing. "What! is this you, Cluny? I'm glad to see you." "But, I'm no glad to see you, Donald," was the reply. The clansman vowed secrecy, but the chief, knowing the story would spread like wild-fire, thought it the more prudent course to change his abode. He succeeded, at last, in making his escape to France, where he died. The estate was forfeited, but afterwards restored, as others have been since.

By far the most remarkable natural features in the valley of the Spean, are the celebrated parallel roads of Glenroy, which have puzzled and perplexed geologists, since the time of the deluge. It lies entirely out of our province to enter upon these discussions, farther than to convey some idea of their singular structure. These

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