THE CELTIC MAGAZINE.

No. IV.
FEBRUARY 1876.

THE STATE OF THE OSSIANIC CONTROVERSY.

[Concluded.]

In prosecuting the geological and geographical confirmation of Ossian on
which we have lately been engaged, the most convincing proofs and the
greatest difficulties alike are to be found in the Frith of Clyde. The
levels of the water in that frith penetrating far inland, by Paisley,
Rutherglen, and Kilsyth, assumed unconsciously as matter of fact in the
text of Ossian, are in such obvious harmony with every word of the
poems which relate to that region, that the poems in question cannot
otherwise be understood; and we therefore cannot help believing not
only that the poems themselves are genuine, but that they represent a
geological phenomenon hitherto unsuspected in the world—are, in fact, a
revelation in science. On the other hand, the levels thus assumed are so
very far beyond anything admitted by geologists within the era assigned,
as to seem not only extravagant but incredible; and if they cannot be
maintained, their assumption as a fact will destroy the credibility of the
poems in which the assumption is made. As regards the authenticity
of these poems, however, the assumption itself is conclusive; for the
translator did not see it, and could therefore never have fabricated the
poems in which it appears. Such poems must have been written by some
eye-witness of the fact, who did not require to exaggerate; and the only
question as regards reliability now to be settled, is whether he did
exaggerate or no? Was the Clyde a sea to Rutherglen, as he seems to
affirm? Was the Kelvin a fiord to Kilsyth, or nearly so, as he implies?
Was the Leven an estuary to Loch Lomond, as we are bound to conclude?
Was the Black Cart a marine canal to Ardrossan in the days of Agricola?
If so, the Clyde must have been from 60 to 80 feet above its present level
at the date supposed—and then, where was the Roman Wall? Traces of
that wall upon the Clyde at a much lower level, it is said, still exist; and
the old fortifications between Dunglass and Kilpatrick only 50 feet or
thereby above the present level, put an end to the reliability, if not to
the authenticity of Ossian. This is the difficulty now to be disposed of;
and of which, in passing, we need only say, that if Macpherson had seen
it he would certainly have avoided it; and therefore, that whoever was
the author of the poems in which it occurs, Macpherson was not.

[Pg 100]
But it is with the difficulty itself we are now concerned, and not with
the authorship. I. First then, suppose any statement, direct or indirect,
had occurred in any Greek or Roman writer of the time—Cæsar, Tacitus,
Dion Cassius, or Ptolemy—affirming, or even implying, such a level in
the Clyde at the date in question, notwithstanding the Roman Wall,
would the testimony of such authors have been rejected? If not, how
would our geologists have disposed of it? or how would they have reconciled
it with existing matters of fact? One can imagine the jealousy
with which such texts would have been criticised; the assiduity with
which every crevice on the coast would have been surveyed, not to contradict
but to confirm them; and the fertility of invention with which
theories would have been multiplied to harmonise them. Strange as it
may appear, however, facts and statements amounting very nearly to this
do occur, and have hitherto been overlooked, or purposely omitted in
silence. The Roman Wall, for example, stops short with a town at
Balmulzie on one side of the Kelvin, and begins again with another town
at Simmerton, nearly a mile distant, on the opposite side of the Kelvin;
but why should such a gap be there, if the Kelvin, which flows between,
had not been something like a fiord at the moment? Again, it is distinctly
affirmed by Herodian that the marshes of Clydesdale south of the
Wall were constantly—end of the third, or beginning of the fourth
century—emitting vapours which obscured the sky. But how could this
be the case, if volcanic heat had not already been operating underneath,
and the waters of the frith were then beginning to subside from their
original higher levels?

On the other hand, not only do statements to the effect alleged occur
frequently in Ossian, but whole poems are founded on the assumption of
their truth, and cannot be understood without them. Why then are not
these taken into account by our geologists as contemporaneous testimony,
in the same way as similar statements, if they had occurred in Cæsar
or in Tacitus, would have been? Because Ossian hitherto has been
looked upon by men of science as a fable; as a witness utterly unfit to be
produced in court, and no more to be cared for or quoted in an ordnance
survey, or in a professor’s chair, than the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments
are in a pulpit. By which very oversight or contempt, the most important
revelations have been lost, and the most elaborate theories will soon
be rendered useless. Ossian, in fact, is as much an authority as either
Cæsar, or Tacitus, or Ptolemy; and in estimating the physical conditions
of the world to which he refers, and which he describes, can no longer be
either ignored or doubted. If his text seems to be at variance with
existing facts, it must be more carefully studied; and if new theories are
required to harmonise details they must be accepted or invented. We
have had theories enough already, which have perished with the using;
something more in harmony with facts, or that will better explain the
facts, must now be forthcoming.

II. But the Roman Wall itself, which is supposed to be the greatest
barrier in the way of our accepting Ossian, has actually a literature of its
own, little understood, in his favour. The three forts farthest west, and
on which so much reliance has been placed as indicating the levels of the[Pg 101]
Clyde when they were built and occupied, are those at Chapel Hill, near
Old Kilpatrick, at Duntocher, and at Castlehill a little farther to the east;
all under the ridge of the Kilpatrick Hills, and all—one of them very
closely—overlooking the Clyde. But in excavating the remains of Roman
architecture in these forts, stones have been found with symbolical sculptures
upon them which are still in existence, or which have been
accurately copied for public use. On one of the stones at Chapel Hill,
farthest west, we have the figure of a wild boar in flight; on one at
Duntocher we have another wild boar, on two more there we have sea-dogs
or seals and winged horses; on two more at Castlehill we have
another boar, and another seal, and an osprey or sea-eagle on the back of
the seal; but beyond this to the eastward, although a boar still occurs,
not another seal appears. How then is all this descriptive or symbolical
sculpture, so plain and so significant, to be accounted for, if the Frith of
Clyde had not then been a sea flowing up into the recesses of the land, as
high almost as Duntocher and Castlehill? The wild boar is traceable
throughout, for he inhabited the woods on the Kilpatrick range, as far
eastward, perhaps, as Simmerton; and we find him eating acorns, even
beyond that. On the other hand, no seal is represented at Chapel Hill, for
the water there was too deep, and the banks too precipitous. It appears
first at Duntocher, and again at Castlehill, because the sea flowed up
into quiet bays and inlets there, where such amphibia could bask—of
which, more hereafter; but it totally disappears beyond that, because the
salt water ceased in the distance. The winged-horse, or pegasus, is more
difficult to account for, and has greatly perplexed the learned antiquarians
who have commented on him; but if the Roman Legionaries who built
and occupied these western stations ever heard the Caledonian harp, or
listened to a Celtic bard, or received an embassy, as we are expressly told
they did, from men like Ossian as ambassadors—the difficulty requires no
farther explanation. The Romans were neither blind nor senseless, and
knew well enough how to represent the poetical genius of the country
which they were attempting in vain to conquer, as well as the wild boars
of its woods, and the sea-dogs in its estuaries; and have thus left behind
them, in rude but significant sculpture, as true a picture as could be
imagined of the men on the soil, and the beasts in the field, and the fish
so-called in the sea, and the bird in the air—between Simmerton and
Duntocher, in absolute conformity with the text of Ossian. Nor is there
any possible reply to this by our antiquarian friends. The Roman Wall
itself, to which they constantly appeal, supplies the evidence, and they
are bound, without a murmur, to accept it.

III. But the levels of the Wall, it may be said, as now ascertainable
by actual survey—what other sort of evidence do they afford? This
question implies—(1) A range of observation from the Kelvin at Simmerton
westward to Duntocher in the first place, and then to Chapel Hill
between Old Kilpatrick and Dunglass. The intermediate forts on that
line are separated by equal distances, nearly as follows:—From Simmerton
to New Kilpatrick, 1¾ miles; from New Kilpatrick to Castlehill, 1¾
miles; from Castlehill to Duntocher, 1¾ miles; the lowest point in which
range at Duntocher is from 155 to 200 feet above the level of the Clyde,
leaving sufficient room, therefore, for the Wall above the highest level[Pg 102]
assumed in the text of Ossian. From Duntocher to Chapel Hill there is
a distance of 2½ miles, with no trace whatever of the Wall between.
Chapel Hill is considerably lower than Duntocher, undoubtedly; but
why is there so great a gap there, and no trace of a wall in the interval?
Either, because there never was a wall so close to the tide; or because
the tide itself washed the wall away, having been built too close to its
confines; or for some other more probable reason yet to be assigned. The
fort at Chapel Hill itself, indeed, is the most indistinct of them all; and
if a regular fort of any importance ever existed there, it must have suffered
either partial inundation, or some other serious shock, unquestionably.

(2) It implies also a corresponding survey of the ground intermediate
between the Wall and the river. Now the intervening ground along the
banks of the Clyde, from Chapel Hill to the Pointhouse at Glasgow, is a
low-lying flat with a gradual rise inland, at the present moment, of not
more than 25 or 30 feet. But according to Professor Geikie’s latest
survey, the Clyde must have been about 25 feet higher in the time of the
Romans than it now is—and Professor Geikie, we presume, is an authority
on such subjects, who may be quoted along with Hugh Miller and
Smith of Jordanhill:—therefore the whole of that strath, and the strath
on the opposite side, from Renfrew to Paisley, on this assumption, must
have been submerged at the same time; and there could be no dwelling-place
for human beings—neither local habitation nor a name—within the
entire compass of that now fertile and populous region. But two or three
Gaelic names survive on the northern verge of it, which not only indicate
the presence of the sea there, but fix the very limits of its tide. Dalmuir,
for example, which means the Valley of the Sea; and Garscadden, which
means the Bay of Pilchards or of foul herring, must, in fact, have carried
the waters up their respective streams to within less than a mile of the
Roman Wall at Duntocher and Castlehill. It was in such retreats, then,
that both salmon and herring (as the name of one of them imports) would
take refuge in the spawning season; it was into such retreats also, they
would be pursued by the seals; it was on the shore of such inlets the
seals themselves would bask, when the Romans saw them; and it is
at the two forts respectively at the head of these inlets—Duntocher
and Castlehill—that they have been actually represented in Sculpture.
Could anything be more conclusive as to the proximity of the tide,
and very character of the shore, within a bowshot or two of the
Wall in that neighbourhood, where there is now a distance of more
than two miles between it and the river? and yet even more conclusive,
in connection with this, is the fact that on the southern verge of
the strath, right opposite to these, are other Gaelic names equally
significant—such as Kennis, the Head of the island; Ferinis, the
Hero’s island; and Fingal-ton, which speaks for itself—at the same or a
similar level with Dalmuir and Garscadden, that is from 100 to 200 feet
above the present level of the Clyde, which seems to demonstrate beyond
doubt that the whole intervening space of seven miles in breadth, with
the exception of such small islands as those named above, was then an arm
of the sea to the depth of 50 feet at least, if not more.

(3) Our survey is thus narrowed to a single point—the existence and
alleged position of the fort at Chapel Hill, between Old Kilpatrick and[Pg 103]
Dunglass, on the banks of the river; and here it should be observed as
between the two extremities of the Wall, east and west, that where it
touches the Frith of Forth at Carriden the height of its foundation ranges
from about 150 to 200 feet above the level of the sea, and where it
approaches the Clyde at Duntocher it is nearly the same—which was
probably its terminus. There is scarcely a vestige of it now traceable
beyond that, and that it was ever carried farther in reality is a matter of
acknowledged uncertainty. But scattered fragments of masonry, as we
have seen, and the dimmest indications of a fort deep down in the earth
have been discovered or imagined at Chapel Hill to the westward, which
seems to be about 50 feet above the level of the Clyde—leaving still a
very large margin beyond Professor Geikie’s estimate; and a great deal
of conjecture about what might, or might not have been there, has been
indulged in by antiquarians. For the present, however, until proof to
the contrary has been shown, let us accept as a fact that some military
station had really been established there in connection with the Wall—then,
how have its fragments been so widely scattered? how has it been
so completely entombed that it can only be guessed at under the soil?
and how has the connection between it and the Wall, more than two miles
distant, been obliterated? No other fort on the line, that we know of,
is now in the same condition; and therefore, we repeat, either the
Romans were foolishly contending with the tide, by building too close to
its confines, and the tide drove them back and overthrew their works; or
the fort itself was originally on a higher level, and the shock of an earthquake,
or a landslip from the mountains, or both together, carried the
whole mass of masonry and earthwork at this particular point down to
their present level, where they would be washed by the tide and silted up
in their own ruins. This is a view of the matter, indeed, which no antiquarian,
so far as we are aware, has hitherto adopted; but any one who
chooses to look with an unprejudiced eye, for a moment, at the enormous
gap in the hills immediately behind, reaching down to the shore and
including this very region, must be satisfied that the case was so; and
recent discoveries—one of a quay-wall or foundation of a bridge at Old
Kilpatrick, about 4 feet deep in a field; and another of a causeway, more
than 20 feet submerged and silted up under sea-sand, on the same side of
the river, near Glasgow, will most probably confirm it.

One other question, however, yet remains, touching this mysterious
fort, which we may be allowed to say only “Ossian and the Clyde” can
enable us to answer—Why was such a fort ever thought of there at all?
It was either to receive provisions and reinforcements from the sea; and
if so, then it must have been on the very verge of the frith, and the water
must have been sufficiently deep there. Or it was to watch the estuary
of the Leven, and to prevent the native Caledonians either landing from
the sea, or coming down from the hills to turn the flank of the Wall at
Duntocher, and so surprising the Romans in the rear; and this, beyond
doubt, was its most important purpose as a military station on the line.
But we have elsewhere explained (in the work above alluded to) that
there was a regular route for the Caledonians from Dunglass to Campsie,
which still bears the name of Fingal; and Fyn-loch, the very first rendezvous
on that line, is on the top of the hill immediately above the fort[Pg 104]
in question. The Romans, who must have been fully aware of this, made
their own provision accordingly. In sight of that fort, therefore, Fingal
and his people might embark or disembark on their expeditions through
Dumbartonshire at pleasure; but it would require to be at a reasonable
distance westward, on the sides of Dumbuck or in the quiet creek at
Milton, if they wished to escape the catapults and crossbows of the conquerors
of the world. Now the earthquake, which extended up the whole
basin of the Clyde, seems to have changed all that. The fort was sunk
or shattered, as we suppose, and the frith began to fall; and antiquarians
who do not believe in Ossian, or who do not keep such obvious facts in
view, have been puzzled ever since, and will be puzzled ever more,
attempting to account for it.

IV. In adducing this evidence—partly antiquarian and partly geological—we
have restricted our survey exclusively to the Roman Wall, for it
is on this important barrier between the Forth and Clyde that those who
object to the geography of Ossian are accustomed to fall back. But the
sort of testimony it affords might be easily supplemented by a survey of
the Clyde itself, which can be shown, and has been shown, by incontestable
measurement on the coast of Ayrshire, to be sinking at the rate
of ¾ of an inch annually for the last forty or fifty years at least; and if
such subsidence has been going on for fifteen hundred years at the same
rate, the level of the frith in the days of the Romans must have been
even higher than we now allege. A critic in the Scotsman, who, himself,
first demanded such a survey, and to whom the survey when reported in
the same paper—August 30th, 1875—was troublesome, appeals boldly in
an editorial note to the authority of Hugh Miller, and again demands that
the survey be transferred from Girvan to Glasgow, because “the height
to which the tide rises is a very fluctuating quantity”—in Ayrshire, we
presume. As for Hugh Miller, we can find nothing whatever in his
pages to the purpose; and if such a distinguished authority is to be relied
on in the present controversy, we must insist on his very words being
quoted. As for the fluctuation of the tide, if it fluctuates in one place
more than another, what is the use of appealing to it at all? and as
between the Ayrshire coast, and the Renfrewshire or Lanarkshire coast,
on the same side of the frith, unless “the moon and one darn’d thing or
another” have special disturbing influence in Ayrshire, what difference
can there be in the regularity of flow between Girvan and Glasgow?
This learned adversary in the Scotsman must surely have been at his wit’s
end when he took refuge in such an absurdity, and we may safely leave
him where he is, to revise his own calculations and recover his composure.

All this might be insisted on anew; but the object of the present
argument is simply to show to the readers of the Celtic Magazine that the
Ossianic controversy must of necessity be removed to another and a higher
sphere than ever. There are certain points, indeed, on which philological
inquiries may still be of the utmost importance as regards the Gaelic
original, and these we cheerfully consign for discussion to those whom
they most concern; but these will never decide the question of authenticity
in its proper form, or establish Ossian in his proper place as a witness-bearer
of the past. The sense of Macpherson’s translation, as it stands,[Pg 105]
must be honestly ascertained; its testimony verified, or otherwise, by
direct appeal to the subject matter of its text; and its value in the
literature of the world determined, on the same principles, and by the
very same process as that of any other public record would be in the
history of the world. Such investigation has now become indispensable.
In Ossian’s name alike, and in that of science, as well as of common
sense, we demand it, and will never be satisfied until it has been accorded.

P. HATELY WADDELL.

We direct the reader’s careful attention to the following interesting
statistics regarding occupiers of land in Ireland:—The agricultural
statistics of Ireland recently completed for 1873 show that in that year
there were in that country 590,172 separate holdings, being 5,041 less
than in the preceding year. The decrease was in the small holdings. The
number of holdings not exceeding one acre fell to 51,977, a decrease of
908, and the number above one acre and not exceeding 15 acres, shows a
decrease of 3,777. The holdings above one acre can be compared with
the numbers in 1841. Since that date the total number has decreased 22
per cent. The number of farms above one and not exceeding five acres
has fallen to 72,088 (in 1873), a decrease of 76.8 per cent.; the number
of farms above five and not exceeding 15 acres has diminished to 168,044,
a decrease of 33.5 per cent.; the number above 15 and not exceeding 30
acres has risen to 138,163, an increase of 74.1 per cent.; and the number
above 30 acres has increased to 159,900, an increase of 228.8 per cent. Of
the total number of holdings in 1873, 8.8 per cent. did not exceed 1 acre;
12.2 per cent. were above 1 and not exceeding 5 acres; 28.5 per cent., 5
to 15 acres; 23.4 per cent., 15 to 30 acres; 12.4 per cent., 30 to 50 acres;
9.4 per cent., 50 to 100 acres; 3.7 per cent., 100 to 200 acres; 1.4 per
cent., 200 to 500 acres; 0.2 per cent., above 500 acres. More than 60
acres in every 100 of the land comprising farms above 500 acres are bog
or waste. As the farms diminish in size, the proportion under bog and
waste decreases until it amounts to only 7.1 per cent. on the smallest
holdings. The average extent of the holdings not exceeding 1 acre is 1
rood and 32 perches, and of farms above 500 acres 1,371 acres and 19
perches. As in many instances landholders occupy more than one farm,
it has been considered desirable to ascertain the number of such persons,
and it has been found that in 1873 the 590,172 holdings were in the
hands of 539,545 occupiers, or 2,293 fewer than in the preceding year.
There were in 1873 50,758 occupiers whose total extent of land did not
exceed 1 acre; 65,051 holdings above 1 and not exceeding 5 acres;
150,778 holdings above 5 but not exceeding 15 acres; 124,471 holdings
above 15 but not exceeding 30 acres; 65,991 holdings above 30 and not
exceeding 50 acres; 50,565 holdings above 50 but not exceeding 100
acres; 20,764 holdings above 100 but not exceeding 200 acres; 8,799
holdings above 200 but not exceeding 500 acres; and 2,368 holdings
above 500 acres. The whole 590,172 holdings extended over 20,327,196
acres, of which 5,270,746 were under crops, 10,413,991 were grazing
land, 13,455 fallow, 323,656 woods and plantations, and 4,305,348 bog
and waste. The estimated population of Ireland in the middle of the
year 1873 was 5,337,261.

[Pg 106]

NEW YEAR IN THE OLD STYLE IN THE HIGHLANDS.

Old Mr Chisholm sat at his parlour fire after a hearty New Year dinner.
His wife occupied the cosy arm-chair in the opposite corner; and gathered
round them were a bevy of merry grand-children, enjoying New Year as
only children can. Their parents were absent at the moment, and the
family group was completed by a son and daughter of the old couple.

Mr Chisholm was in a meditative mood, looking into the bright blazing
fire. “Well,” he observed at last with an air of regret, “The New Year
is not observed as it was when we were children, wife. It’s dying out,
dying out greatly. When these children are as old as we are there will
be no trace of a Christmas or a New Year holiday. What did you say
you had been doing all day Bill?” he asked, turning to his son.

“Shooting,” said Bill, “and deuced cold I was. Catch me trying for
the ‘silver medal and other prizes’ another New Year’s Day.”

“Shooting may be interesting” said Mr Chisholm, “but as you say it is
cold work. We had sometimes a shot at a raffle in my young days, but
usually we had more exciting business. Shinty my boy, shinty was our
great game,” and Mr Chisholm looked as if he greatly pitied the degeneracy
of the latter days.

“I have played shinty myself” said Bill, “and I see it is still played
in Badenoch and Strathglass, and among wild Highlanders in Edinburgh.
But it’s too hard on the lungs for me, and besides we never play it here.”

“The more’s the pity, Bill. There’s no game ever I saw I could compare
to shinty. Talk about cricket, that’s nothing to it. Shinty was
suited to a New Year’s day; it kept the spirits up and the body warm.
I should like to have a turn at it yet—wouldn’t I run?” And the old
man’s heavy frame shook as he chuckled at the idea. “However, there’s
no use speaking; is tea ready wife?”

“No, and it won’t be for half-an-hour yet, perhaps longer” said Mrs
Chisholm. “You know we have to wait Bella and John,” indicating her
married daughter and her husband.

“Then,” said the old man, “come here bairns and I shall tell you how
I spent one of my early New Year’s days.”

“Yes, do, grandfather,” shouted a happy chorus; “now for a story.”

“Not much of a story” replied Mr Chisholm, “but such as it is you
shall have it. I was born and bred in the country, you know, my father
being a small farmer. The district was half-Lowland, half-Highland, and
we mixed the customs of both. At that time shinty was a universal
winter game, and greatly we prided ourselves on our smartness at the
sport. And it was a sport that required a great deal of smartness,
activity, strength, presence of mind, and a quick sure eye. Many a
moonlight night did the lads contend for the honour of hailing the ball.
On this particular day there was to be a match between two districts[Pg 107]
—twenty men a-side, and the stake £5 and a gallon of whisky. Our
leader was a carpenter, named Paterson, who was the hero of many a
keenly contested shinty match.

“The eagerly expected morning at last arrived. The New Year was
taken in by the young folk trying for their fortune in ‘sooans.’ Bless me
bairns, don’t you know what ‘sooans’ is? No; then the thin sooans was
made for drinking like good thick gruel; the thick was like porridge, but
that we never took on a Christmas or New Year morning. About four
o’clock I came down to the kitchen, and there found my mother
superintending the boiling of the ‘sooans,’ and the place filled with the
servants, girls, and men, and some of our neighbours. My friend Paterson,
who had an eye to one of the servants (a pretty country lassie) had
walked four miles to be present. Wishing them all a happy Christmas I
sat down to share the ‘sooans’ with the rest.

“‘Well Paterson,’ said I, ‘how do you feel this morning? Nothing, I
hope, to interfere with your running powers.’

“‘No thank ye, Willie,’ said he, ‘I’m as supple as a deer.’

“‘Supple enough,’ said one of the men with a grin; ‘he was here
first this morning. Wasn’t he, Maggie?’

“”Twould be lang afore ye were first,’ retorted Maggie; ‘the laziest
loon on the whole country side.’

“By this time the ‘sooans’ were ready, and we were all unceremoniously
turned out of doors. In our absence ten bowls were filled. In two of
these a ring was placed, signifying, of course, speedy marriage; a shilling
put into two others represented the old bachelor or old maid; and a half-crown
in another represented riches. Called in, we had each to choose a
dish, beginning at the youngest. Great was the merriment as we drained
our dishes, but at the last mouthful or two we paused, as if afraid to peer
into dark futurity.

“‘Here goes,’ exclaimed Paterson first of all, and he emptied his dish.
At the bottom lay a shilling, which he exhibited amidst a general shout
of laughter.

“‘What have you got Maggie,’ was the next exclamation. With a
titter Maggie produced a ring.

“‘And here’s the other ring’ cried Jock, the ‘laziest loon in the
country side.’ ‘Maggie, you’re my lass for this year anyway.’

“Maggie tossed her head in superb disdain.

“‘I’ll try my luck now,’ said I, and drained my dish. My luck was
to get the second shilling. So you see wife, though I got you I was
intended to be a bachelor. The half-crown, I think, fell to a man who
could never keep a sixpence in his purse.

“After breakfast we started for the place of meeting. Our men joined
us one by one, and many more came to see the game. As we passed the
cottages the girls called to us to see that we supported the honour of the
place, and returned victorious, to which we replied ‘ay, that we will,’ and
flourished our clubs with vigour. Before we reached the appointed
ground the procession had greatly increased in numbers, and a large crowd[Pg 108]
at the spot welcomed us with tossing up of bonnets and rounds of cheering.
Soon afterwards our opponents arrived, headed by a piper, and
their leader Jack Macdonald. Their appearance also excited hearty
cheering, and preliminaries were soon arranged.

“The sides were very equally matched. Macdonald was an active
young ploughman, who came neatly dressed in a velveteen jacket and
corduroy trousers, the latter adorned with rows of buttons. Paterson, of
course, was our mainstay; and besides him, we had an innkeeper, as stout
and round as one of his own barrels, who, singular to say, was a capital
shinty player. Our opponents had the assistance of an enthusiastic
schoolmaster, who, even in those days, encouraged sports among his
pupils, in spite of the remonstrances of some of the wiseacres. Our clubs
were carefully selected. Some preferred a sharp square crook, some a
round one, just as they happened to excel in hitting or ‘birling’—that is,
in getting the ball within the bend, and running it along upon the
ground. The ball, composed of cork and worsted, was at once strong and
elastic.

“The hails, four hundred yards apart, were duly measured out and
marked by upright poles. Then the players ranged themselves in the
centre of the field, Macdonald and Paterson hand to hand; and at the
understood sign the ball was thrown down and the strife commenced. I
don’t know whether the rules were the same in all places, but with us no
kicking or throwing of the ball was allowed. We could stop it by any
means we pleased, but we could strike it forward only with our clubs.
The players were ranged in opposing ranks; and it was against all rule
for a player, even in the heat of contest, to turn round to his opponents’
side, though he might, by so doing, obtain a more convenient stroke.
Should such a thing happen, the roar of “Clipsides ye” from a dozen
throats, and the thwack of two or three clubs on his legs would soon
apprise the unlucky individual of his fault.

“As long as the ball was in the midst of the players there was great
scrambling and confusion. The lads pushed and shouted; club stuck
fast in club; and the ball was tossed from side to side without any
advantage to either party. Paterson watched his opportunity, and
cleverly picking the ball from the other clubs, he gave it a hasty stroke
which brought it close to me, eagerly waiting for it outside the thick of
battle. In a moment I had caught it, and sped along the field, ‘birling’
rather than hitting, followed by the whole troop, cheered by my friends
and stormed at by my opponents. Macdonald, rushing fast and furious,
first came up and seized my club with his as I was about to administer a
stroke. For a second or two we were both helpless; Macdonald first
succeeded in extricating his weapon, and struck the ball backwards two
or three yards. The other players were almost upon us, when I struck
up Macdonald’s club, caught the ball again and shot a-head. Macdonald
overtook me with a few bounds, for he was now thoroughly roused and
heated; but stretching too far to hit the ball he fell on his knee. The
schoolmaster, however, was now upon me, and the ball was hurled back
by him among the troop of players. Macdonald had sprung to his feet
almost in an instant, and darted back to the contest.

[Pg 109]
“Again the scene of confusion recommenced. Backwards and forwards,
backwards and forwards, swayed the excited crowd, every face
flushed, and every muscle strained to the utmost. Shins and arms
received some awkward blows in the strife, but no one cared as long as
the injuries were unimportant. Macdonald at last succeeded in pulling
out the ball, and getting it for a moment into a clear space, he delivered
a tremendous blow, which drove it far on the road to hail. There was a
race who should reach it first. Paterson succeeded, and drove the ball
far down the field, but out of the direct way and into a whin bush.
‘Hands,’ shouted his nearest opponent; and at this call the stout innkeeper,
who was nearest the bush, caught up the ball and brought it into
the open field.

“‘High or low’ said the innkeeper, holding his club in his right hand
and the ball in his left.

“‘High,’ said his opponent.

“The ball was immediately thrown into the air and both tried to strike
it as it fell. The innkeeper was successful, but the blow was necessarily
a feeble one, and carried the ball but a few yards.

“The contest continued during the greater part of the day, neither side
being able to claim a decided advantage. During a momentary pause
Paterson flung off his boots, sharp frost as it was, and was followed by
Macdonald, the innkeeper, and myself. The innkeeper freely regaled
himself from his pocket-flask, and actually became more eager and active.
Late in the afternoon he got a-head with the ball, and skipped forward,
sometimes ‘birling’ and sometimes hitting it, until he was within twenty
yards of hail. Another blow would have finished the match, when
Macdonald caught the ball and ran back with it, most wonderfully eluding
all the clubs, now wielded by arms for the most part greatly fatigued.
Paterson, thrown off his guard by the suddenness of the movement, was
left behind. The innkeeper pursued Macdonald closely—so closely,
indeed, that his bulky body obstructed all movements but his own.
Macdonald was in high spirits, when, running against an opponent in
front, he turned round for a moment to our side to secure a better stroke.
The innkeeper, foaming with rage and disappointment, roared out ‘Clipsides
ye,’ and administered a blow to Macdonald’s leg that caused him to
halt for an instant. That halt was fatal. I darted past and hoisted the
ball to Paterson, who seized it and carried it easily through the now
scattered ranks of our opponents. Once out into the open field it was a
direct chase. Paterson had better wind than any man on the field, and
having got so far ahead he made the most of his advantage. Macdonald
pursued him hotly. Twice he came up with Paterson, twice he struck at
the ball, and both times struck the ground just as the object of his pursuit
was carried forward by our leader’s weapon. After that all was over.
Paterson took the ball to within twenty yards of hail, and then with a
well-directed blow sent it between the winning posts. A loud shout rent
the air. In the excitement of the moment I attempted leapfrog over the
stout innkeeper, and both came to the ground.

“After this the whisky was broached, and mutual healths followed.
The game had been so well contested that there was no ill-feeling; and[Pg 110]
we promised to give our opponents an opportunity of revenge another
day. Late at night we returned to my father’s house, where a good supper
was spread for us in the barn. A hearty dance followed, and so New
Year’s Day, old style, came to a close. Don’t you think it was a jovial
day?”

“Not a doubt about it” said Bill, “only the sport was rather rough.
Do you really mean to say that you threw off your boots for the play?”

“That we did my boy in the heat of the match, and it was not so
unusual as you may suppose. Highlanders were tough lads in those
days, and they didn’t fear a blow or a bruise.”

“Did many accidents happen?” asked Bill. “When clubs were
swinging about freely I should think heads were in danger.”

“Serious accidents were rare” replied Mr Chisholm. “Ankles and
legs and hands did get some smart knocks, but heads generally escaped.
In the thick of the strife there was no use swinging clubs in the air. We
could only push and thrust, and pull the ball out with the crook. In a
race we struck as we ran, giving short rapid strokes; and when a player
delivered a sweeping blow, he had generally space for the swing of his
club. I remember a boy getting his face laid open by an awkward
fellow; but such an occurrence was rare among experienced players. We
could handle our clubs as you handle your guns—scientifically. There
are not usually many casualties at a shooting match—eh Bill?”

“But, grandfather, what came of Paterson?” asked little Mary. “Did
he marry Maggie?”

“Oh, that’s the subject of interest to you, lassie. No, he didn’t.
Women are always contrary. Maggie married the ‘lazy loon’ Jock; he
made the most of his good fortune in getting the ring, and the marriage
was long cited as a proof of the unfailing certainty of the oracle.”

“Grandfather,” cried Henry, “have you made us the totum? Didn’t
you used to play the totum on New Year’s Day?”

“That we did boy” said Mr Chisholm. “The youngsters thought it
a capital game, and the elders did not refuse to join in it. Yes, Harry, I
made you the totum, and by-and-bye we shall have a game.”

“Let us have it now” cried the children springing up in eager excitement.
“Let us have it now; we have all brought our pins.”

Mr Chisholm cheerfully acquiesced. The group gathered round a
little table, each with a stock of pins displayed, to be staked on the game
now about to be commenced. Look at the totum as Harry takes it up
and balances it between the thumb and second finger of the right hand.
It is only a piece of wood about half an inch long, cut away to a sharp
point below, and having a slender spike thrust in at the top to serve as a
handle. It is four square, and a letter is carved on each side—namely,
“T,” “D,” “N,” and “A.” Each player stakes a single pin, and each in
rotation gets his chance of whirling the totum. If, after whirling, the
totum falls with the letter “A” uppermost, all the stakes become the
prize of the player; if “T” is the uppermost letter he only takes one; if
“N” appears he gets nothing at all; while “D” obliges him to contri[Pg 111]bute
a pin from his private stock to the heap in the centre. Every whirl
comes to be watched with as much eagerness as if a fortune depended on
the result.

The nature of the game having been made sufficiently plain, Mr
Chisholm leads off with a whirl which sends the totum spinning round
so fast as to be almost invisible; but gradually relaxing its speed it falls
at last, exposing upon its upper surface the letter “N,” carved, if not with
elegance, at least with sufficient plainness to show that it is a veritable
“N” and no other letter of the alphabet.

“Nickle nothing,” shout the children, as they clap their hands with
delight.

Then Harry takes his turn. He holds the totum very carefully between
his finger and thumb, poising it with intense gravity; then looks at
the letter next him, twirls the toy backward and forward, and finally propels
it by a sudden jerk from his fingers. It whirls like a top for a few
seconds, watched by eager faces, and ultimately falls with the letter “D”
uppermost.

“D put down” bursts from the merry group; and the boy looks very
disappointed as he withdraws a pin from his private stock and places it
among the general deposit. Grandfather enters into the fun with as much
enthusiasm as the children, and the spirit of gambling has taken possession
of the New Year party.

The smallest girl—four years old—next takes the totum. She places
it between the thumb and forefinger, screws her mouth to make an effort,
and placing the point on the table gives it a whirl. It goes round three
or four times with a convulsive staggering motion, and at last falls, “A”
uppermost, amidst a general shout of laughter and applause.

“A, take them all—Lizzy has got the pins”—and the surprised and
happy child, proud of her success, gathers the heap to her own stock,
while the others each replace a stake.

So the lively little game proceeds amidst varying success. Possessions
grow and diminish as the totum makes its rounds; and before the game
ends Mr Chisholm is reduced to his last pin. He holds it up with rueful
countenance, confessing himself a ruined man, while the children clutch
their treasures, and boast of their success.

“Grandfather is beaten—is beaten at the totum” cried Mary as her
father and mother at length arrived. “He showed us how to play, and
look at the pins we have gained.”

“May you always be as happy with your gains,” said the old man
resuming his paternal attitude. “Now you know how we spent our Old
New Years. Sooans and shinty, and the totum—they were all simple
maybe, but there was pleasure in them all. Many a heart was lost at the
‘sooans’; many a hand made strong at shinty; and many a little head got
its first notion of worldly competition from the totum. Take your seats,
boys and girls, for here’s the tea!”

KNOCKFIN.

[Pg 112]

CUMHA—MHIC-AN-TOISICH.

WM. ALLAN.

Sunderland.

[Pg 113]

THE GAME LAWS.

[The conductors of the Celtic Magazine in their prospectus, and in their
first number, state that “they will at all times be ready to receive contributions
from both sides on any question connected with the Highlands,
and of interest to Highlanders.” In whatever light the subject of the
following remarks may be viewed, it will readily be admitted that it has
an interest for Highlanders sufficient to entitle it to temperate discussion
in these pages]:—

The Game Laws in Scotland, as our readers are aware, consist chiefly
of various statutes designed to secure to landed proprietors what the
common law, while it leaves them without the means of effectually
securing, declares them entitled to, the exclusive possession and use of
their land. The common law maxim, that an owner is entitled to the
sole enjoyment of his own ground, the legislature has practically given
effect to from time to time by passing various enactments pointing to
that end. These somewhat numerous statutes are almost identical in
effect in the three kingdoms, to which some of them extend; nor does the
common law throughout materially vary. It is not our intention, however,
to emulate Sir Roger de Coverley, whose explanations of the Game
Acts used to gain great applause at quarter sessions, by entering upon
a minute analysis of them here. We mean to confine ourselves simply
to a critical examination of the various attacks to which they have been
subjected, and an endeavour to make a brief and impartial survey of
their effect on the prosperity of the Highlands.

In entering upon the consideration of adverse criticisms, we find that
they are easily resolved into two classes:—First, there are those as to
what opponents term the unnecessary severity and injurious influence of
the Game Laws upon poachers; and secondly, the injury indirectly
effected by them upon tenant-farmers, agricultural and pastoral.

Sympathy for the poacher is frequently proclaimed by anti-game
law agitators. They will tell you that the disposition to pursue game is
inherent in human nature; that the indulgence of this irrepressible propensity
ought to be regarded with a lenient eye: that game cannot be
identified as property, and that the man who takes it should not be considered
or treated as a thief; dilating the while on the sad misfortunes that
an occasional lapse into the fields in search of a hare or a rabbit may bring
upon an agricultural labourer and his family, ultimately it may be
involving them in ruin. These arguments, however, though at first sight
appearing to have some foundation in reason, do not satisfactorily stand
the test of serious scrutiny. They are such as could be brought to bear
for what they are worth against the operation of almost all repressive laws
in the kingdom. Smuggling, for instance, is not generally looked upon
as a breach of the moral law, nor does it present itself to common eyes in
an odious light; yet it is a crime punishable by penal laws for the sake[Pg 114]
of increasing revenue. The man who takes his own agricultural produce
and converts it into a wholesome and refreshing beverage for his own
domestic use is liable to a very much heavier penalty than he who steps
on to his neighbour’s property and puts out his hands to take what he has
neither laboured for nor purchased. In the one case we can imagine an
honest industrious labourer, actuated only by a desire for the comfort of
himself and his family, manufacturing his own goods into nourishing and
sustaining ale, heavily punished for his untaxed enjoyment of the bounties
of Providence; whereas, in the other case, the poacher, as a rule, is a
person with a turn for idleness, an aversion to all honest and steady
labour, and a taste for luxurious indulgences above his means, who persists
in illegally invading another’s property in the pursuit and seizure of
its produce.

This character is specially applicable to the poaching class in the
Highlands. Any one familiar with prosecutions in poaching cases
there must see that the offenders brought up for trial form a
limited list of mean-spirited cringing creatures, upon whom any sort of
sympathy would be sadly thrown away, whose faces are well known
to the procurator-fiscal as they appear in rather regular succession in the
dock. It may be said that almost nine poaching prosecutions out of ten
are instituted against old and habitual offenders, who calculate, like
blockade runners, that a few successful raids will enable them cheerfully
to pay the fines inflicted on the occasions of their capture. As deer-stalking
and grouse shooting, to be effective, require day-light, and
pheasant breeding is the exception not the rule in the north, cases of night
poaching, the worst and most severely punishable, are of unfrequent
occurrence, while fines of two pounds, the highest that can be inflicted for
day poaching, in the most aggravated cases, is not heavy enough even
when coupled with costs to make habitual and systematic poaching an
altogether unprofitable occupation. We have no difficulty therefore in
saying that the Game Laws do not press with undue severity upon the
labouring classes in the Highlands, by whom, on the whole, poaching is
now an offence rarely committed; and we believe that in saying
so we express the opinion of those classes themselves. Any complaints
that have been made have not proceeded from them but from third parties
who have endeavoured to range themselves as pretended friends to compass
their own ends. There is just one direction in which we might hint
that improvement is possible. We would wish to see a sliding scale of
fines legalised, by which lighter penalties would be exigible for first
offences and repeated transgressions less leniently punishable than at present.

We have now to consider that more vexed and intricate portion of our
subject, the operation of the Game Laws upon the position of the tenant-farmer.
This we have stated to be indirect, because, in reality, many of
the results complained of might be continued in existence independently
of the operations of these laws. The points at issue between landlord and
tenant, over which such torrents of discussion have been poured, are
really questions of contract been individuals, which could and would arise,
were the Game Laws abolished. But as complaints are coupled with a[Pg 115]
demand for the abolition of these laws as a panacea, we cannot avoid
briefly examining their relation to the interests of agriculture. Whether
owing to bucolic trust in the friendly intentions of a Conservative
Government, or to hopelessness of there being any advantages derivable
therefrom, it is worthy of observation that the recent agitation on this
question, as well as on the kindred subjects of unexhausted improvements
and hypothec denominated by Mr Hope in his observations in “Recess
Studies,” “Hindrances to Agriculture,” have now entered upon a quiescent
phase. A few years ago an agricultural dinner was no sooner eaten by
the assembled agriculturists than the Game Laws were tabled with the
toddy, and both hotly, and in some cases ably discussed. But a change
for the better is now noticeable in the atmosphere of Cattle Club
Meetings and Wool Fair dinners whereat the voices of game preservers
may even be heard amid applause. Monotony was the rock on which
the agitation was in danger of being shipwrecked, and as the results did
not appear to be commensurate to the labour, as the stone seemed to be
rolled up the hill in vain, so far as concerned the passing of any favourable
parliamentary measure, swords have again been turned into more
useful ploughshares, and spears into less ornamental pruning hooks.
The opportunity is therefore not an unfavourable one for a calm survey of
the situation.

It is a well-known principle in jurisprudence that a contract between
two parties capable of contracting in respect to a subject matter known
to both, if adhered to by either, is inviolably binding; and with the free
action of this principle as between parties, except in a matter of life and
death, the legislature always has had, and we confidently believe, always
will have a delicacy in interfering. If there is no vital principle, or
specialty in a contract between landlord and tenant in regard to an
heritable subject, such as an arable farm, that necessarily takes it out of
the list of ordinary contracts, no Government would seriously entertain or
assist the passing of a measure for imposing fetters upon one of the
parties to that contract, exceptional legislation to obtain an advantage
for the lessee to the detriment of the lessor. Are there then such
specialties? Tenant-farmers allege (1) that land is not an ordinary subject
of contract owing to the extent being limited, and is a possession
the owners of which stand in the relation merely of national trustees,
bound to administer in the way most beneficial to the people; (2), that
tenants are not capable of contracting on equal terms with their landlords,
and that the weaker party should receive legislative protection in
the shape of an inalienable right to ground game; and (3), that in being
compelled to sign game preservation clauses, the subject matter of that
part of their agreement is one the full extent of which must, from its
nature, be unknown to them. To this reply is made—(1), That the
possession of land is no more a monopoly than the possession of cattle or
any other commodity, that is continually in the market and sold to the
highest bidder; that the fact of the supply being limited, and necessarily
in the hands of the few, in comparison with the many who wish to use it,
is no reason why exceptional restrictions should be placed on its being let
out for hire, but rather the reverse; as well might the possessors of
money, who are few in comparison with those who wish to borrow it, be[Pg 116]
statutorily bound to lend it out at less than it would otherwise bring; and
that those who invest money in land, having no contract with the State,
cannot be interfered with by the State in the management of it in the
way they believe most advantageous to themselves; (2), that farmers as a
rule, and particularly those who make the greatest noise about the Game
Laws, are quite capable of attending to their own interests in any contract
with proprietors as to leasing of land; that if they are glad to obtain
it on the proprietors’ terms, that is occasioned by the legitimate operation
of the laws of supply and demand, which equally affect all other contracts;
and that to give them an inalienable right to ground game, which
they would immediately convert into money value by sub-letting, would
simply amount to confiscation of part of the enjoyment of property, and
in effect amount to depriving proprietors of a considerable part of the
equivalent for which they gave their money; and (3), that when a tenant
makes an acceptable offer for a farm, he does so after the fullest investigation
as to its capabilities and disadvantages, and with a good knowledge
of the amount of game on the ground, and the damage likely to be
occasioned thereby; and, as thus, the amount of rent offered is fixed by
him after all these points have received due consideration at his hands, he
is precluded from afterwards crying out against the one-sidedness of his
contract. It will thus be seen that there is just as much to be said on the
one side as the other; and clamour notwithstanding, we believe, the day
is still distant when the legislature will step in to interfere with free contract
between landlord and tenant, by laying down conditions which
even both parties with their eyes open, and of mutual consent, will not
be allowed to alter. In other words, in an age when the cry is for
freedom from all special advantages to owners of land, such as hypothec
and entail, so as to place it on an open footing with all other subjects, it
would be strange, indeed, were exceptional legislation required for the
lessees of land to give them the special advantages which the spirit of
the age denied to their landlords. Are we to have landlord right
levelled down while tenant right is to be levelled up? We have
yet to see it. It cannot, however, in fairness be denied that there
are certain circumstances in which the tenants’ third complaint
above-mentioned is just and reasonable. While a tenant is strictly
tied down under the conditions of his lease to a certain rotation of cropping,
and various other regulations regarding his use of the land, the
proprietor is left practically unfettered as to the extent of increase of
game that he may allow to take place. Immunity in such an event is
secured to the latter, either by a clause to that effect in the lease or by
the prudent reluctance of the tenant to pursue his landlord through court
after court in the knowledge that even the extra-judicial expense of such
procedure would quickly amount to more than the ultimate damages
awarded, if awarded at all, and that the feelings engendered by the
contest would stand in the way of a renewal at the expiry of the lease.
There is here, undoubtedly, a manifest hardship to the tenant, for
which the legislature would be justified in passing a remedial measure.
It would quite consist with the acknowledged and equitable principles
of jurisprudence that cheap and speedy redress for the tenant against
such uncontemplated and undue increase of game should be provided[Pg 117]
by legislative enactment. All wrongs have their remedies; but the
remedy in such a case is not the giving an inalienable right to ground
game to the tenant, as that would amount to a wronging of the landlord,
who might wish to reserve such right at any cost of compensation
to the tenant for damage really inflicted. What is desirable is, that such
damage should be assessable, and the value thereof recoverable with the
least possible trouble and expense to the tenant. We think that this
could be most effectually secured by the statutory appointment in each
county of a competent, impartial, and reliable assessor whose duty it
would be to inspect and record the amount of game existing on every
farm in that county at the entry of the tenant, and who would be bound
at any future season on the application, either of the proprietor or of the
tenant, to re-inspect that farm and report as to whether there was any
appreciable increase in the stock of game thereon, and if so to issue an
award and valuation of the amount of damage thereby occasioned, the
amount of which the tenant would be legally entitled to deduct at payment
of the next half-year’s rent. The expense of this inspection,
according to a fixed scale of charge, should be payable by the landlord
where damages were found exigible; but, otherwise, where the tenant’s
claim was decided to be unfounded, the whole expense would, in equity,
be payable by him to the assessor. Of course, there are objections that
can be raised to the adoption of this, as of any other proposed compromise;
but on a careful consideration they will not be found insuperable. Enthusiasts
there are and will remain who will demand that an inalienable right to
ground game be gratuitously conferred upon them. But by the great majority
of agriculturalists who think temperately it is agreed that the only possible
settlement of the ground game question is one of compromise. We have
been credibly informed that in the counties of Forfar and Caithness, farmers,
to whom the right to ground game had been made over, after short
experience of the unexpected trouble and expense connected with the due
keeping down of hares and rabbits, had entreated their landlords to
relieve them of the burden, which they had at first unreflectingly
and gladly assumed.

The damage done by game on agricultural farms in the Highlands is
altogether inconsiderable in affecting the agricultural prosperity of the
country. Our opinion is that if the truth were fairly told farmers would
confess that where the shoe pinches is in the pressure of high rents
caused by their own mutual competitions for farms, rather than the
trifling damage done by game. The bringing forward of the game
question has been merely the trotting out of a stalking horse. There
were no complaints of game or game laws in the good old times when
the rents were low. Our grandfathers and great-grandfathers were
rejoiced to furnish the laird with a good day’s sport, in the fruits of
which they generally participated. Game must have done as much harm
then as now, but farmers in those days did not feel pushed to meet the
rent day. They could live on a smaller income; they did not seek or
require the same luxuries, and had less outlay in labour. Of course, a
great deal has happened since then, but it cannot be said that for
this the lairds are entirely to blame. Then to rent a farm was
synonymous with making money; now it as often means losing[Pg 118]
it. With higher rents, the result of a keener demand, a farmer’s
profits have been sadly diminished, and he too often exerts his ingenuity
in discovering grounds of deduction from a rent he feels to be
burdensome. On the sound enough principle of abolishing special
privileges of all kinds he can fairly advocate the abolition of hypothec,
but when in the same breath he turns his back upon that principle by
calling for the creation of the extraordinary privilege of an inalienable
right to ground game, he asks too much and has every probability of
getting too little.

There is no necessity for saying anything in reply to the attacks of a
few pastoral tenants or large sheep farmers. It is now matter of history
that by repeated and uncontradicted assertion a comparatively small and
uninfluential sheep-farmer clique had thoroughly convinced themselves,
and almost persuaded a portion of the public, that deer forests were
responsible for all the misery and poverty in the Highlands, for all the
cruel evictions which were carried out to make room, not for deer, but for
those very farmers who made such a noise. Having succeeded in infecting
some impressionable people, including not a few writers in the press
who knew as little of a deer forest and its surroundings as they did of
the great Sahara, there was at one time some danger of the outcry
becoming general; but the report of the Parliamentary Commission so
completely exposed the nakedness of the land, so thoroughly demonstrated
the absence of anything like reasonable foundation for complaint,
as to convince even the most extreme politician of the utter absurdity of
the position assumed. The cry never did find an echo in the heart of
the Highlander. He knew too well that the same justice had been meted
out to him and his by the predecessors of those very farmers, as they
themselves were then receiving at the hands of the wealthy Sassenach.
He knew that the evil of depopulation had been accomplished in the
Highlands, not by the introduction of deer, but of sheep on a large scale
by Lowland farmers before ever deer forests had come to be considered a
source of revenue. It was, therefore, somewhat amusing to the Highland
people to witness the descendants of these Lowland novi
homines smitten upon the thigh and roaring lustily. The only bribe
they promised allies was the offer of mutton a twentieth of a penny per
pound cheaper, and Highlanders refused to be bought over at that price,
especially as its payment was more than doubtful. The deer forest
agitation has died a natural death. Peace to its ashes.

We have hitherto confined ourselves to discussing the so-called disadvantages
of the Game Laws: we have yet to consider the facts on the
other side of the question, by which those disadvantages are altogether
overbalanced. As the space allotted to us in this Magazine, however, has
its limits, we will meanwhile content ourselves with enumerating seriatim a
few of the manifold benefits accruing to the Highlands from Game Laws and
game. These are—(1), The great increase of rental from land, which is
manifestly beneficial, not only to the proprietors, but to all classes in the
country in which they spend their incomes; (2), The residence in the Highlands
for so many months yearly of wealthy sportsmen, who, if game were
unpreserved and consequently non-existent, would have no inducement so[Pg 119]
to reside; (3), The remunerative employment afforded by those sportsmen
to the labouring classes; (4), The profits made by shopkeepers and others
in the various Highland towns, by supplying the requirements of such
sportsmen; (5), The opening up of the country by railways, which could
not have been remuneratively effected for years yet to come in the Highlands
without the traffic afforded by the conveyance of sportsmen and
their belongings; (6), The advancement of civilization in the north, by
the opening up of roads and the building of handsome Lodges in remote
localities, and the circulation of money involved in the execution of these
improvements.

This enumeration might be extended to various minor details, but we
think we have said enough to satisfy every candid and impartial reader
that a very serious blow would be inflicted upon the prosperity of the
Highlands by the abolition of the Game Laws—laws which are by no
means the antiquated and useless remains of feudalism so strongly
denounced by Radicalism run mad. The truth of this need not be
altogether left to abstract speculation. We have a crucial instance in the
case of the American Republic, where the absence of such laws was felt
to be so prejudicial to the general welfare that game regulations were passed
much more stringent than in this country, and where, at present, as Mr
J.D. Dougall in his admirable treatise on “Shooting” informs us, “there
exist over one hundred powerful associations for the due prosecution of
Game law delinquents, and these associations are rapidly increasing, and
appear to be highly popular.” “Here,” he adds, “we have one struggling
Anti-Game Law League: in the States there are over one hundred
flourishing Pro-Game Law Leagues. The cry of a party here is:—Utterly
exterminate all game as vermin; leave nothing to shoot at. The
increasing general cry across the Atlantic is:—Preserve our game and our
fish for our genuine field sports.” So long as our Game Laws continue to
increase the prosperity of the country without infringing upon the liberty
of the people, they stand in little need of defence; are not much endangered
by attack.

EVAN MACKENZIE.

A REMARKABLE FEUDAL CUSTOM.

It is happy for the present age that the ancient manners and customs,
which were practised in the Highlands and Islands under the Feudal
system, have long since fallen into oblivion. It would fill volumes to
relate the numerous practices which were then resorted to by the feudal
lords, many of which were cruel in themselves, and entailed great hardships
on their submissive vassals who were bound to obey. As the chiefs
had full power over the life and death of their retainers, such of them as
betrayed any disobedience or opposition to the stern demands of their
superiors, rendered themselves liable to the severest punishment, and
frequently to nothing less than the penalty of death. The national laws
of Kings and Queens had then but little influence in checking or
counteracting the peremptory enactments of Feudalism.

[Pg 120]
The following striking instance of the remarkable practices alluded to
will furnish a specimen to the readers of the Celtic Magazine, of what
took place in Skye, not much more than a century and a half ago.

No sooner did the death of a tenant take place than the event was
announced to the laird of the soil. The Land-Stewart, or ground-officer,
incurred the displeasure of his master unless that announcement were
made no later than three days after it had occurred. Immediately after
the deceased farmer had been consigned to the grave, the disconsolate
widow, if he had left one, was waited upon by a messenger from the
landlord, to deliver up to him the best horse on the farm, such being
reckoned then the legal property of the owner of the soil. This rule was
as unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. On large and
extensive farms the demand was submitted to without much complaint, by
the widow, children, or heirs of the deceased, but it pressed hard upon
the occupiers of small tenements of land, and particularly so on helpless
widows. But whoever refused, or attempted to evade this heartless
enactment, forfeited every right to their farms in future, and became liable
to have all their goods and chattels confiscated to the laird. It frequently
happened that a poor farmer had but one horse, yet even this circumstance
did not mitigate the cruelty of the practice; for the solitary animal was
taken away, and frequently so to the great distress of the younger
branches of the orphan family, who mourned bitterly, and often shed tears
for the loss of their favourite animal.

A circumstance took place in the parish of Strath, which was, it is
said, the means of abolishing this abominable rule. About the beginning
of the seventeenth century a farmer, of the name of Mackinnon, was
gathered to his fathers in the parish, and after his interment the laird’s
messenger visited the afflicted widow, and, as usual, demanded the best
horse on her little farm. Her husband having been a kinsman of the
laird, and expecting, in her distress, to receive some sympathy from her
chief, and at all events, some relaxation of that rule which had been all
along so resistlessly put in force, she showed much reluctance to part with
the animal. Seeing this, the officer became more and more determined to
have it. The widow, in the same manner, became more and more determined
in her refusal, and appealed to him in vain to submit the case to
the decision of her chief. The officer was inexorable, and becoming incensed
at the woman’s pertinacity he turned from words to blows, and
inflicted some severe wounds on the helpless female to the effusion of
blood. She, however, retaliated, and through desperation, assuming more
courage, addressed her little son, a boy of four, that stood weeping by her
side, and said to him in her own emphatic vernacular:—

[Pg 121]
The mother’s charge to her boy cannot be said to be tempered with much
Christian feeling or principle, yet it was according to the generally
cherished practices of the system under which she lived. Then it was
that might was right, and revenge bravery. But to return to the subject—the
widow’s cries and tears, excitement and eloquence, were all in vain.
The officer made off with the horse and delivered it to his chief.

Matters went on in this way, in various quarters, for a considerable
time, until at length, and about twenty years thereafter, the same officer
appeared on the same errand at a neighbouring widow’s door, and deprived
her as usual of her best horse. The circumstance was brought under the
notice of Lachlan Og, and having been, no doubt, frequently reminded
of the cruelty inflicted by that official on his mother, was determined to
embrace the present befitting occasion for displaying his dire revenge. It
may be stated that young Lachlan was noted in the district for his great
agility and muscular strength. He made no delay in pursuing the officer,
and having come up to him at the distance of some miles, he seized him
by the neck and sternly demanded the widow’s horse, reminding him, at
the same time, of the treatment inflicted by him on his mother twenty
years before. The officer stood petrified with fear, seeing fierceness and
revenge depicted so very unmistakably in young Mackinnon’s face. Yet
still he grasped the animal by the halter, and would not permit his
youthful assailant to intermeddle with it. The strife commenced, and that
in right earnest, but in a few moments the officer fell lifeless on the
ground. Mackinnon, seizing his dirk, dissevered the head from the body,
and washed it in a fountain by the wayside, which is still pointed out to
the traveller as “Tobar a’ chinn,” or “The Well of the Head.” He then,
at once, mounted the horse, and galloped off to the residence of his chief,
carrying the bloody head in his left hand on the point of his dirk. His
appearance at the main entrance, with the ghastly trophy still bleeding in
his hand, greatly alarmed the menials of the mansion. Without dismounting
he inquired if Mackinnon was at home, and being told that he
was, he said, “Go and tell my Chief that I have arrived to present him
with the head of his officer ‘Donnuchadh Mor,’ in case that he might
wish to embalm it and hang it up in his baronial hall as a trophy of
heartlessness and cruelty.” The message was instantly delivered to the
laird, who could not believe that such a diabolical deed could be perpetrated
by any of his clan, but still he came out to see. On his appearance
in the court, Lachlan Og dismounted, did obeisance to his chief, and
prominently exhibited the dripping head, by lifting it up on his dirk.
“What is this, Lachlan, what murder is this?” asked the excited chief.
Lachlan explained the whole in full detail, and related the circumstances
of the present transaction, as well as of the inhuman treatment which his
mother had received when he was a child. The chieftain pondered,
paused, and declared that these cruelties had been practised unknown
to him. He granted a free pardon to Lachlan Og, appointed him his
officer in room of Donnuchadh Mor, and issued an edict over all his estate
that thereafter neither widow nor orphan, heir, nor kindred, would ever
be deprived by him of their horse, or of any other part of their property.

SGIATHANACH.

[Pg 122]

GENERAL SIR ALAN CAMERON, K.C.B.,

COLONEL 79th CAMERON HIGHLANDERS.

[Continued].

Chapter IV.

These acts of loyalty by the Highlanders in recognition of their Stewart
Princes were not long concluded when the same virtue was called into action
to defeat the intentions of other rebels (as they were rudely termed) from
disputing the authority of the British Sovereign, or dismembering any
portion of his territory in the American colonies. An abridged outline
of what came to be the War of Independence may not be out of place
or uninteresting even at this distant date.

North America had been chiefly colonised by the British people—the
settlements of the Dutch and French were few and unimportant.
The colonists were in the enjoyment of liberal institutions, and the
country being fertile, the population rapidly increased; while, at the same
time, immigrants from Europe continued to arrive annually on its shores.
The mother country being oppressed with debt, it was proposed to make
her Transatlantic subjects contribute a portion towards her relief. This
resulted in the imposition of a stamp duty on various articles. The
Americans would neither afford assistance, nor would they sanction the
taxation proposed to be placed on tea, &c.; and at a meeting of Congress
resolutions of separation were adopted, followed by the Act of Declaration
of Independence. George III. and his Parliament determined on chastising
the recusants, and hence the commencement of the American Civil
War. Jealousy of Great Britain, and a desire to humble her, induced
France to join the Americans, as also did Spain. Against the combined
efforts of these allies, however, the British sustained unsullied their ancient
renown. The war continued with alternate successes, and disappointments
to the contending parties for about six years, at the end of which
honourable peace was concluded between them, and America was henceforth
declared an Independent State; and in acknowledgment of the
able services rendered to her, the colonists elected General Washington as
the first president of the new Republic.

During the progress of the war the Americans were guilty of many
acts of cruelty to whomsoever fell into their hands, some of which
fell to the share of Alan Cameron. The Royal Highland Regiment,
to which he was attached, was stationed in Quebec when Canada
was threatened with invasion by General Arnold at the head of 3000
men. The colonel of Alan’s regiment (Maclean) who had been
detached up the river St Lawrence, returned by forced marches and
entered Quebec without being noticed by Arnold. The fortifications of
the city had been greatly neglected, and were scarcely of any use for the
purposes of defence. The strength of the British within its walls was
under 1200, yet they repulsed the repeated attacks of the American
generals. Here it was that Alan Cameron came for the first time into
hostile contact with the enemy, and both his regiment and himself[Pg 123]
acquitted themselves with great gallantry—on one occasion in particular,
when an assault was made by Generals Arnold and Montgomery, in
which the latter was killed and the other wounded. Arnold foiled in this
attempt, established himself on the heights of Abraham, thus blockading
the town and reducing the garrison to great straits; but this was all he
succeeded in, as he was beaten in every attempt to gain possession of the
lower town, by the intrepid gallantry of Colonel Maclean and his Highlanders.

On the approach of spring General Arnold despairing of success,
withdrew his forces, raised the siege, and evacuated the whole of Canada.
Released from this defence the battalion entered on enterprises in different
parts of the province, and to enable it to do so more effectually, Colonel
Maclean transformed a limited number of it into a cavalry corps, for out-post
duties and otherwise acting as scouts. Of this body Alan Cameron got
the command. Daring and sometimes over-zealous, he often led himself and
his company into situations of desperate danger. On one occasion they
were surrounded by a strong force of the enemy, from which they escaped
with the utmost difficulty, and only by the personal prowess of each
individual and the fleetness of their steeds. The Americans communicated
with the British commander to the effect that “this fellow (Alan) and
his men had been guilty of the unmilitary proceeding of tampering with
the native Indians in their loyalty to American interests,” stating a determination
of vengeance as the consequence. It is not known whether
Alan was apprised of this charge or not; at any rate he continued his
incursions for some time. The threat was not unintentional, as the
succeeding events proved, and an unfortunate opportunity enabled the
enemy to give it effect. Alan and nearly one-half of his company were
seized. The latter they made prisoners of war, but committed him to the
jail of Philadelphia as a common felon, where he was kept for two years
and treated with the most vindictive harshness. This proceeding was
denounced by the British General as “contrary to all military usage,” but
his representations proved unavailing.

The ardent nature of the imprisoned Highlander chafed under
restraint, and finding no hope of release he was constant in vigilance
to procure his escape. This he was at last enabled to effect through
his jailer having neglected to fasten the window of his place of
confinement, which was on the third storey. His ingenuity was
put to the severest test. He, however, managed to tie part of the bed-clothes
to the bars of the window, and descended with its aid. The
blanket was either too short, or it gave way; anyhow Alan came to the
ground from a considerable height, and being a heavy man, in the fall
he severely injured the ankles of both feet. In this crippled state he
was scarcely able to get away to any great distance, but somehow
managed to elude the search of his enemies.

Although the Americans, as a nation, were in arms against Great
Britain, still among them were many families and individuals who
were slow to forget their ties of kinship with the people of the
“old country,” and Philadelphia contained many possessing such a
feeling. Alan, on his first arrival in that country, became ac[Pg 124]quainted
with and obtained the friendship of more than one of these
families. To the house of one of them, in his emergency, he decided on
going. This was a Mr Phineas Bond (afterwards Consul-General in that
city) who received the prisoner without hesitation, and treated him with
the utmost consideration. Alan, however, before he would accept shelter
and hospitality, explained to Mr Bond his condition and how he became
a prisoner, adding that he merely desired rest for a day or two to enable
him to escape towards the British cantonments. Mr Bond made him
welcome and promised him every assistance. Both were fully impressed
with the danger and delicacy of their position, and Alan like an honourable
soldier was now more anxious about that of his host than his own.
He, therefore, embraced the very first opportunity of relieving his
chivalrous friend of so undesirable a guest.

Without entering into details as to the nature of his escape, it
is enough to state that after frequent chances of being recaptured,
he arrived at a station where some British troops were quartered.
Among these were some officers and men with whom he had served
in the early part of the campaign, but he had become so altered
in condition that they scarcely believed him to be the Alan Cameron
they knew. His relative (Colonel Maclean) sent his aide-camp to
have him conveyed to head-quarters, on arrival at which he was most
attentive to do everything that could be done. Medical inspection
however, pronounced Alan unfit for active service for at least a year.
This was disappointing news to him, as he feared his career in the army
was likely in consequence to come to an untimely end. Colonel Maclean
recommended him to repair at once to Europe and procure the most
skilful advice for the treatment of his wounds and broken limbs. Alan
concurred and returned to England on sick leave, where he arrived in
1780.

He had not been many months at home when news arrived of the
conclusion of the war; and with that happy consummation Colonel Maclean’s
corps was reduced, the officers were placed on the “provincial list”—a
grade not known in the army at the present day—Government, in addition
to their pay, giving them and the other men grants of lands in the following
proportions—5000 acres to a field officer; 3000 to a captain; 500 to a
subaltern; 200 to a sergeant; and a 100 to each soldier. These conditions
were applicable only to those who remained in or returned within a
given time to the colony. In the case of absentees one-half of the above
number of acres was the extent of the grants, but they were allowed to
sell their lots. As Alan had been promoted to the rank of Captain he
had 1500 acres which he turned into cash. This capital and his pay was
the only means possessed by this “provincial officer.” He was, however,
only one of many similarly situated on the termination of the American
War.

Chapter V.

The transport ship brought home other invalids besides Alan Cameron,
one of whom, Colonel Mostyn, and himself came to be on terms of warm
friendship. This gentleman, descended from one of the best families in
Wales, and having many relatives resident in London, was of considerable[Pg 125]
service to Alan in the matter of introductions to the society of these relations
and other friends. “American officers,” as those returned from the war,
were termed, were welcomed wherever met with. Among them Alan was
not the least distinguished, perhaps the more so on account of his unfortunate
adventure with his Lochaber adversary in the duel; and his
subsequent distinguished career in America.

At the house of one of Colonel Mostyn’s relatives, Alan met a young lady
who was destined not many months after to become his wife. This was
the only child of Nathaniel Philips of Sleebeich Hall, Pembrokeshire.
The heiress of a wealthy squire was beyond Alan’s expectations; besides
he understood there were more than one aspirant for her hand, who were
themselves possessors of many broad acres, therefore it could scarcely
occur to the mind of the “provincial officer” to enter the lists against
such influential competitors. However that may be, Alan’s success with
the lady may have been much the same as that of another with Desdemona:
“Her father bade me tell the story of my life, the battles, sieges,
and fortunes I had passed. I ran it through, even from my boyish days;
of the moving accidents by flood and field; of the hair-breadth ‘scapes
and the imminent deadly breach; and of being taken by the insolent
foe. To these things would Desdemona seriously incline, and devour up
my discourse. When I did speak of some distressful stroke, that I had
suffered, she gave me a world of sighs. She wished she had not heard
it; but bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should teach him how
to tell my story, and that would woo her.” Duke—”I think this tale
would win my daughter too.”

Alan Cameron became the favoured suitor of Miss Philips, but both
felt the barrier of the Squire’s consent to be insurmountable. Nor was
there any circumstance likely to arise in favour of Alan’s worldly position
to make him acceptable to Mr Philips as his son-in-law. Honourable
conduct acted on Alan’s feelings, and directed the proper course to be
pursued. He made his visits to the house of their mutual friend less
often and at greater intervals. Squire Philips was at the time, and had
for some few years, been a widower; and it was reported and believed that
he was contemplating a second marriage. Moreover, the intended spouse
was scarcely yet out of her teens, while he was past middle age, and his
daughter was also her senior. Her father’s intentions created disappointment,
if not dissatisfaction in Miss Philips’ mind, which, it is alleged, was one
of the causes that moved her not to view elopement with serious objection.
There is no record of the occurrence to guide further reference than that
Alan Cameron and Miss Philips had betaken themselves to Gretna
Green without the knowledge or consent of her father, where marriages
were solemnised without the preliminary formalities necessary at Hanover
Square. Notwithstanding that a pursuit ensued either by the parent or
other friends, it was not successful in interrupting the marriage of the
runaway pair.

Instead of returning to London with his bride, Alan went towards
the capital of his native country, where he and his wife remained for
several months. It now, however, became almost a necessity that he
would get into some office, the emoluments of which would add to his[Pg 126]
slender income. After some delay he was fortunate in getting an appointment
through the intercession of a friend with whom he had served in
America. This appointment was on the militia staff of one of the
English counties. Alan retained it until the fortune of events reduced
the displeasure of the father-in-law to that state when mutual friends
thought they could do something to induce the Squire to forgive and
forget. These friends did not fail to take advantage of this state of
feeling, and embraced the opportunity to obtain for Alan an interview
with his wife’s father, which resulted, as desired by all, in full forgiveness
to both son and daughter. This reconciliation, like the wooing of Miss
Philips, was also somewhat after the manner of that of Desdemona’s father,
who replied, “I had rather adopt a child than get it. Come hither. I
do give thee that with all my heart, which—but thou hast already—with
all my heart, I would keep from thee. For your sake I am glad I have
no other child, thy escape would teach me tyranny.” This act of grace
was important to Alan, as the allowance to his wife, which followed,
enabled them to live in affluence in comparison with their past state.

Squire Philips had not married at the time rumour had formerly
assigned, but he did enter into that state, and that after he had become a
sexagenarian. By the second marriage the Squire—unlike the father
in the play—”had another child.” This child is yet living, in the person
of the venerable Dowager Countess of Lichfield, herself the mother of a
numerous family of sons and daughters, including the present peer, as also
the wife of the noble lord the member for the county of Haddington.

(To be Continued).

Highland Melodies.—The Gaelic Society of London finding that regret
has been frequently expressed that the plaintive melodies of the Highlands
should be allowed to pass away, have, we are glad to learn, taken steps to
preserve them in a permanent form, and are now preparing for publication a
selection of the best and most popular airs. The verses will be given in
Gaelic and English, and the pianoforte accompaniments are arranged with
special attention to their distinctive characteristics by Herr Louis Honig,
Professor of Music, London; while slight variations are introduced to render
the melodies more acceptable to the general taste. Editions of the Dance
Tunes of our country are numerous, but the Gaelic vocal airs, set to music,
have not hitherto been attainable. The issue is limited to 250 copies, which
the Society are patriotically supplying at cost price—namely, 10s 6d per
copy; or free by post to the Colonies for 12s. We feel assured that this
want has only to be known to secure the necessary number of subscribers
for the few remaining copies.

[Pg 127]

LITERATURE.

THE “ARYAN ORIGIN OF THE CELTIC RACE AND LANGUAGE.”

The above is the title on the outside of a book by the Rev. Canon
Bourke, president of St Jarlath’s College, Tuam, Ireland. The book is in
every respect a wonderful and interesting one to the Celt, at home and
abroad, whether he be Scotch or Irish. Time was when the Scottish
Celt looked with great suspicion on his Irish cousin, while the Irishman
had no great love for his Scottish neighbour. Even yet a good deal of
this feeling prevails, particularly among the uneducated.

Our own experience, however, has been that the Irish Celt is not
behind the Scotch Gael in generosity and all the other virtues which are
the special characteristics of the race. The book before us is in several
respects calculated to strengthen the friendship which is being rapidly
formed, and which ought to subsist among the intelligent of each of the
two great branches of the Celtic family—Scotch and Irish. Frequent
references of an appreciating and commendable kind are made in this work
to the labours of Scotchmen in the field of Celtic literature. Canon
Bourke, like a true-hearted son of Ireland, with that magnanimity
characteristic of the race, holds out his right hand to every Scottish
scholar in the field of Celtic or Keltic research, and says in effect—Cia
mar a tha thu? Buaidh gu’n robh air d’obair!

Although the “Aryan Origin of the Celtic Races and Language” is
all the title on the cover, inside the book, the title is much more comprehensive,
consisting, as it does, altogether of 27 lines. But even this large
and comprehensive title-page does not give anything like an adequate idea
of the extent and variety of the contents of the book. Taking it up with
the expectation of finding a learned treatise on the Aryan origin of the
Celtic race and Celtic languages one will be disappointed; but no one will
be disappointed with the work as a whole, for though its contents do not
bear throughout on the above subject, they are all thoroughly Celtic; and
as a collection of Celtic gleanings, will well repay a perusal. It is, indeed,
a sort of Celtic repository—the writer’s Celtic reading for many years
being apparently thrown into a crucible, and having undergone a certain
process there, are forged out into the handsome and bulky volume before
us. It has, however, all the appearance of having been very hastily got
up. Indeed, in the preface, which is dated, “Feast of the Nativity of the
B.V.M., 1875,” we are told that a mere accident has given the first
impulse to the composition of the work, and that accident appears to have
been that at a social meeting of Irish clergymen in 1874 the subject of
conversation turned on the language and antiquities of Ireland.

After doing justice to the “Four Masters,” of whom Irishmen are,
[Pg 128]
with good reason, so very proud, the decay of the Gaelic language in
Ireland is alluded to, and the cause of that decay described at some
length, and it is pointed out that, in consequence of this neglect, when an
Irish patriot appeals to the sentiment of his race, the appeal must be
made, not in the language of old Ireland, but in the language of the
conquering Saxon. Father Mullens in his lament for the Celtic language
of his countrymen “must wail his plaint in Saxon words and Saxon
idiom, lest his lamentation should fall meaningless on the ears of Ireland.”
And this decay Father Mullens pathetically describes:—

In Ireland as in some other countries (perhaps we may say with some
degree of truth in our own Highlands of Scotland) the simple uneducated
peasants are, in the law courts, treated with the greatest display of harshness
because they cannot give evidence in the English tongue. Canon
Bourke refers to a case of this nature that occurred during the last year
in Tuam. A witness, Sally Ryan, who appeared to have understood
English, but could not speak it, and consequently would not give her
evidence in that language, was removed as an incompetent witness! Is
that justice? We know that in the courts in Scotland a good deal of
harshness is occasionally used towards witnesses who cannot speak English.

The fact remains, that in the Highlands there are many whose only
language is Gaelic, and if their Saxon rulers have a desire to administer
the law justly they must learn to deal more gently with such as are
ignorant of the English language. We also know from personal observation
that Gaelic witnesses frequently give evidence by means of very
incompetent interpreters, thoroughly ignorant of the idiom of the
language, and are thus very often misrepresented. A bungling interpreter
bungles a witness, and nothing is more calculated to invalidate evidence
than being given in a loose incoherent manner. On this point we are
at one with the learned Canon Bourke.

Considerable space is devoted to the pronunciation of the word Celtic—the
question being whether it should be pronounced Keltic or Seltic.
Professor Bourke argues, and gives good reasons, that it should be written
Keltic and pronounced Keltic. He is unquestionably right in his contention
for the pronunciation, but as we have no K in the Scotch or Irish
Gaelic alphabet it is difficult to agree with him as to the spelling, but the
fact remains that it is almost universally pronounced Seltic and written
Celtic, and has in that form taken such a root that it can scarcely be ever
altered. What then is the use of fighting over it? In the compass of[Pg 129]
this necessarily short review it is quite impossible to give an adequate
idea of the work before us. While the work exhibits great learning and
research, we think the rev. author might have bestowed more care on
such a valuable work. Several typographical errors present themselves,
and in many cases the Professor’s composition exhibits clear evidence
of undue haste in the writing and arrangement. But humanum est errare.
Nothing is perfect, and the book before us is no exception to the general
rule. The Celtic student will, however, find it invaluable, and no one
who takes an interest in Celtic philology, antiquity, manners, and customs
(indeed everything and anything Celtic), should be without a copy;
for it is a perfect store of Celtic learning.

THE SCOTTISH GAEL, OR CELTIC MANNERS AS PRESERVED AMONG
THE HIGHLANDERS. By the Late James Logan, F.S.A.S. Edited with
Memoir and Notes by the Rev. Alex. Stewart, “Nether Lochaber.” Issued in 12
Parts at 2s each. Inverness: Hugh Mackenzie, Bank Lane. Edinburgh: Maclachlan
& Stewart. Glasgow: John Tweed.

We have before us the first and second parts of this valuable work. The
Frontispiece is a coloured plate of two Highland Chiefs dressed in the
Stewart and Gordon tartans; and the other engravings, which are well
got up, are in every case fac-similes of those in the original Edition, which
had become so scarce that it was difficult to procure it even at a very high
price. Logan’s Scottish Gael has long been held as the best authority on
the antiquities and national peculiarities of Scotland, especially on those
of the Northern or Gaelic parts of the country where some of the peculiar
habits of the aboriginal race have been most tenaciously retained.

The valuable superintendence and learned notes of “Nether-Lochaber,”
one of our best Celtic scholars and antiquarians, will very materially
enhance the value of the work, which is well printed in clear bold type,
altogether creditable to the printer and to the editor, but, particularly so,
to the public-spirited publisher. We have no hesitation in recommending
the work to all who take an interest in the Literature of the Gael.

[Pg 130]

SONG OF THE SUMMER BREEZE.

Dedicated by permission to the Rev. George Gilfillan.