Part 1

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SCOTTISH LOCH SCENERY.

LONDON: JOHN WALKER AND CO.

SCOTTISH LOCH SCENERY.

ILLUSTRATED IN

A SERIES OF COLOURED PLATES

FROM DRAWINGS BY

A. F. LYDON.

WITH DESCRIPTIVE NOTES BY THOMAS A. CROAL.

LONDON: JOHN WALKER AND CO. 1882.

CONTENTS.

LOCHMABEN LOCH DOON THE GREY MARE'S TAIL ST. MARY'S LOCH DUDDINGSTON LOCH LINLITHGOW LOCH CORRA LINN STONEBYRES FALL LOCH LEVEN LOCH FAD LOCH LOMOND FALLS OF INVERSNAID LOCH KATRINE LOCH LUBNAIG LOCH EARN LOCH TAY LOCH AWE LOCH ETIVE THE FALLS OF FOYERS LOCH NESS LOCH CORUISK LOCH MAREE FALLS OF THE GARRAVALT THE DHU LOCH--LOCH-NA-GAR THE CAULDRON LINN

SCOTTISH LOCH SCENERY.

LOCHMABEN.

The visitor to Scotland, entering from the south, has not far to travel before he reaches one of the loveliest lowland scenes the country possesses. The very ancient burgh of Lochmaben lies on a branch line a little distance from Lockerbie junction, and, apart from its picturesque surroundings, the old place presents attractions of its own. It dates from very early times, and its burghers are known, even to this day, as 'the king's kindly tenants.' Many of the retainers of Robert the Bruce, to whom and whose ancestors the castle belonged, having obtained rights of property in one or other of the 'four towns of Lochmaben,' under a tenancy direct from the Crown, hence forming virtually a proprietary interest.

In Burns's _Five Carlines_, the burgh is called 'Marjory o' the mony lochs,' from the numerous sheets of water around, of which our view shows the largest and finest. This is known as the Castle Loch, and covers about two hundred acres. Although not surrounded by the high mountains and bolder scenery found further north in Scotland, this loch presents a scene of great beauty, having fine verdant hills surrounding it, and being itself clothed on every shore with beautiful woodland scenery.

The ruined castle shown in the view occupies a prominent position upon a heart-shaped peninsula. The visitor will find little but bare and massive walls to tell him of the extent of this fortress, once covering sixteen acres in extent, and forming the chief stronghold in the south-west of Scotland. For many years after the castle fell into ruin it is said the king's tenants used it as a quarry for building stones, and Chambers, in his _Picture of Scotland_, speaks of one honest burgher who then 'warmed his toes beside a pair of fine jambs procured in Bruce's castle.' From the appearance of the ground, it is evident the neck of the peninsula could be put under water for defensive purposes, having both an outer and an inner defence of this kind, besides one or more intermediate fosses that speak of the same use. The present is not believed to be the original castle built by the Lords of Annandale, but a subsequent erection of the thirteenth century. The days of warlike lords and border forays are over for the Castle of Lochmaben, and now it is to be regarded merely as a splendid addition to the picturesque attractions of this very charming district. Boats may be hired for a row or sail over the placid bosom of the loch, and on a fine autumn evening no more delightful pleasure could be got.

Besides its other attractions, Lochmaben presents a peculiar fact in natural history, for in its waters are found--in addition to other fish--the vendace, a species of fish found in no other loch. It is popularly but erroneously called a fresh-water herring, for it belongs to the family of _coregonus_, one of the salmonidæ. This rare fish takes no lure, and thus can only be netted, and the fishing for it in the Castle Loch is limited to one day in the year, in July, when the vendace club meet, fish, and dine. The Mill Loch, another and lesser of those surrounding the burgh, also contains vendace, which are fished for one day in August. The Castle Loch measures a mile long by three quarters broad, the Mill Loch is half a mile by quarter of a mile, and the other waters are the Kirk-Loch, Hightae Loch, &c.

LOCH DOON.

Although intimately associated with those scenes to which Burns so plaintively puts the question

'Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?'

and although it 'pours a' its floods' under that ancient brig where Tam O' Shanter had such a narrow escape, Loch Doon is far from the immediate land of Burns, lying remote in a wild and solitary mountain region. The loch is, however, within four miles of Dalmellington station, and as there is excellent fishing, coaches frequently carry the disciples of Walton, as well as searchers after the picturesque, to this quiet, outlying place. Loch Doon is eight miles in length, and irregular in form, the lower limb of the Loch, from which the river Doon issues, lying to the right as shown in our view. The hills on the south are in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, and the loch, forming, over its whole length, the boundary between that county and Ayrshire, is surrounded with pastoral mountains.

At the head of the loch, at its southern end, lies an island on which the remains of an ancient castle are seen. This building, the main feature of which is an octagonal peel or tower formed of large square stones, is only vaguely traceable in history, and at one time belonged to Edward Bruce, brother of Robert the Bruce. Rather more than half a century ago, several canoes were found in the loch near this island, each boat formed from the stem of a single oak tree, the trunk being hollowed out, and the ends finished off in form like a fishing-coble. Common repute gives to such boats an antiquity of eight or nine centuries, but no absolute date can be assigned to them. They belong to what has been called by an eminent Scottish archæologist, non-historic man. Whether they are also pre-historic may be matter of dispute.

The river Doon, for a portion of its course immediately after leaving the loch, presents some very remarkable features. The gully through which it flows gives the appearance of high cliffs rent asunder by some fierce cataclysm to give passage to its waters. The walk along this ravine is singularly striking, the rocks seeming at every turn to close in so as to bar further progress, and when the river is full after a wet season the spectacle is not without elements of terror. All around, the region abounds with lochs, Loch Doon being the largest. Excepting as regards the branch line of railway leading to Dalmellington, the entire district lies apart and silent, a region of hills, occasionally, as in Merrick (2704 feet) and Cairnsmore of Carsphairn (2612 feet), rising to the dignity of mountains, and wholly given up to pastoral uses, except where the iron works around Dalmellington suggest that this upward district touches the border of that mineral wealth which exists so abundantly a little further north.

THE GREY MARE'S TAIL.

While this is not the highest waterfall in Scotland--for the inaccessible Falls of Glomak far exceed all others--the Grey Mare's Tail ranks as one of the most striking. We find amongst the hills at the north-west corner of Annandale, the waters of 'dark Loch Skene,' which find no outlet save over this breakneck descent. Far down in the vale below lies the watering-place of Moffat, famous for its sulphureous springs, clear, cool, and medicinal. Coaches leave this town daily during the season to reach the other side of the hills, and ten miles distant from Moffat this splendid natural phenomenon is seen. The coach, in the slow ascent to the higher level, gives the visitor ample time to find, on foot, the best vantage points from which to see the fall.

When the stream is small, the 'tail' falls off to thin threads of spray, dashed into films of prismatic beauty as they rush from rock to rock. But in spate, the effect comes out in all its grandeur,

'White as the snowy charger's tail,'

and the appropriateness of the name bestowed on the waterfall evidences itself. The entire fall is above two hundred feet at one leap, over a dark rugged precipice, closed in on every side with sharp rocks, and suggesting to the mind ideas of much terror and sublimity. Attempts have been made to scale the face of the fall, occasionally with fatal results, and the imagination can create, even if the eyes cannot see, the fluttering of morsels of clothing that are pointed out by the guide as horrible memorials of such foolhardy attempts. In this wild region were enacted some of the terrible scenes of the Covenanters' persecution. Away in those grim solitudes, 'hunted like a partridge upon the mountains,' the dauntless upholder of the right of private judgment would betake himself, associating with others of like determination. On the 'Watch Hill' opposite Birkhill, the persecuted people set sentinels to signal the approach of Claverhouse or his men, while away in a cave, near a wild waterfall called Dobb's Linn, they held their proscribed services, and here on one occasion the 'bloody Clavers' shot four men, whose graves were marked in Ettrick kirkyard not many years ago. The wild desolation of this scene befits the dark and terrible incidents of which, at this period, it was the scene. The farmhouse of Bodsbeck lies on the road between Moffat and the waterfall, and has been rendered famous in literature through James Hogg, the 'Ettrick Shepherd's' story of the _Brownie of Bodsbeck_, a tale dealing with incidents of the persecution of the Covenanters.

From Moffat can be reached in a different direction some notable hills and ravines, amongst which may be named Hartfell, and Queensberry Hill, from the summit of both of which magnificent panoramas of scenery are opened to view. A remarkable scene is that of the Earl of Annandale's Beef Tub, otherwise called 'The Devil's Beef Tub,' a vast semicircle of precipitous rock, down in the bosom of which many beeves, perhaps driven from other mens' lands, could be hidden away.

ST. MARY'S LOCH.

There is no native of Scotland who does not wax poetical when St. Mary's Loch is named. Round it and the district of which it is the crown and glory there centres more of legend, ballad, poem and sentiment than is to be found anywhere else, and in good sooth it is only necessary to visit the place to realize the halo of love and admiration which has been thrown around it. Then it is also the centre of a famous angling district, and in 'Tibbie Shiel's' the 'contemplative man,' when his day of enjoyment is done, will find a tidy bed, and eke some jovial companion, who will make the evening hilarious as the day has been exhilarating. If the tourist has visited the _Grey Mare's Tail_, described in the preceding chapter, the same coach that has brought him from Moffat will bring him on to this scene of singular pastoral beauty.

St. Mary's Loch presents sufficient space to make up a fine landscape, and is not too large to be taken in at one glance. In its still beauty it has its chief charm:--

'You see that all is loneliness, And silence aids--though the steep hills Send to the lake a thousand rills, In summer tide, so soft they weep, The sound but lulls the ear to sleep. Your horse's hoof-tread sounds too rude, So stilly is the solitude.'

The square keep seen in the foreground is Dryhope Tower, the home of 'Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow.' Here we at once plunge into the old ballad and foray, for she married Wat of Harden, a famed Border freebooter, and to name him is to let loose a flood of reminiscences, legends, and family histories, on which the space at command here will not permit us to enter.

The old kirk and kirkyard of St. Mary's were not less remarkable than the loch:--

'Lord William was buried in St. Marie's Kirk, Lady Margaret in Marie's Quire, Out o' the lady's grave there grew a red rose And out o' the knight's a brier.'

Thus ends the tale of the _Douglas Tragedy_. Less famous people are buried there, as another voice tells us,

'For though, in feudal strife a foe Hath laid our lady's chapel low, Yet still beneath the hallowed soil The peasant rests him from his toil, And, dying, bids his bones be laid Where erst his simple fathers prayed.'

The river Yarrow flows through St. Mary's Loch, having passed through the small Loch o' the Lowes before reaching the larger water, 'Tibbie Shiel's' lying between the two lochs. Yarrow is well known to every reader of Wordsworth, and we must pass rapidly over what might be suggested by that single word, so soft in sound, so suggestive of the old-world lore of this magical district. Of every nook and dell, hill and valley, stream and loch, there are stories and songs without end, everywhere

'You hear sweet melodies Attuned to some traditionary tale.'

Heroes and bold outlaws, fair women and sorrowing widows, strifes and plunderings, genealogies and traditions--the Vale of Yarrow and its surrounding hills and streams abound in these. All hushed are they now, and the once warlike burgh of Selkirk is a thriving manufacturing town, but while the 'Flowers o' the Forest' are, in one sense 'a' wede away,' the natural attractiveness of the district remains, with all the stories of byegone times to add to its interest for romantic or poetic minds.

DUDDINGSTON LOCH.

The smallest of all the notable lochs in Scotland, its circumference being under a mile and a half, Duddingston is nevertheless famous as the resort of curlers and skaters, and for very many years it has been a favourite playground of the citizens of Edinburgh, whenever John Frost holds reign, and the ice is pronounced safe by the police. The water is deep, and the loch is fed by several springs far down in its depths, so that it is not a mere touch of frost that will produce practicable ice at that part of the loch just under the rocky knoll overhanging the middle. But when the frost has lasted for two or three days, and the word is passed round in the city that 'Duddingston is bearing,' then as if by common consent the city is stirred to wend its way to the loch. Everyone is there, from the arab who has perhaps at no other time a shoe on his feet, and whose sport can only consist of 'keeping the pot boiling' down the long slides that speedily get formed, to grave lawyers, councillors and magistrates, while crowds of the fair sex also don their skates, and anon the surface of the loch gets obscured by the multitudes of people disporting on the ice. There have been times when Duddingston, like the Thames, has been so strongly frozen that an ox has been roasted upon it, and 'Frost Fair' is still a tradition amongst old people. But a thickness of five or six inches of ice suffices to make the entire surface safe and solid, and when by the continuance of frost the ice reaches to nigh two feet thick--no uncommon event--then the frosty carnival is at its best.

The village of Duddingston reposes under the wing of Arthur's Seat--the hill shewn in our view--and lies to the right. In the village is the house in which Prince Charles Edward lodged before the battle of Prestonpans. In former times, Duddingston was famous for 'sheep's head' dinners, and its fruit gardens were also a favourite resort in summer. The parish church, seen amidst the bare trees, is of architectural interest because of several portions of Norman work still extant, and also from the fact that at the gate of the churchyard are to be seen the 'jougs', an iron collar used as a pillory, and also a curious relic, a 'loupin' on stane,' placed considerately there so that persons attending church on horseback should reach their saddle with the least trouble. In the comfortable manse, which lies away to the right, there lived for a time the Rev. John Thomson, one of Scotland's greatest landscape painters, who was minister of the parish, and died there in 1840. The roadway running between the rocky knoll and the main hill is called the 'Windy Gowl,' and in certain directions of the wind is almost impassable. The precipitous rocks standing to the left of the hill are known as 'Samson's Ribs,' and consist of basaltic columns of the same formation as Fingal's Cave and the Giant's Causeway. Viewed as we see it from the east end of Duddingston Loch, Arthur's Seat loses the fine leonine form it presents in every other direction. It is a noble hill, and although little more than eight hundred feet high, its position as a solitary eminence gives it much grandeur of appearance, and the view from its summit is nowhere surpassed. On a clear day, the eye may wander from the Cheviot Hills on the Border, to the Grampians in the north-west, and while the city of Edinburgh lies spread out below, the varied landscape of the Lothians and the sparkling waters of the Firth of Forth come in to make up a panorama of varied beauty, amply repaying the slight toil of the ascent.

LINLITHGOW LOCH.

We reach here a quiet loch, of no great extent, but presenting a beauty of its own, and famous from its association with the ancient palace that crowns the peninsula in its centre. The tale of Flodden Field is closely associated with this palace, for in the small turret at the right hand corner furthest in our view there sat Queen Margaret in her bower, watching the turn of the road by which the king ought to be seen on his return, and weeping in secret misgiving as to the result of an enterprise which had been preceded by such a singular warning. The scene described by Lindsay of Pitscottie, and better known through 'Sir David Lindsay's Tale' in _Marmion_, took place in the old parish church, closely adjoining the palace, the square tower of which is seen over the trees. The king was in the practise, on each anniversary of his father's death, to proceed to St. Katherine's aisle,--still shown--and there to manifest his contrition for the share he had had in that sad act. When

'In Katherine's aisle the monarch knelt With sackcloth shirt and iron belt And eyes with sorrow streaming'

there stepped out from the crowd a mysterious stranger, 'in azure gown with cincture white,' who warned the king not to go to the intended war, more especially warning him, if he went, to guard himself against

'Woman fair Her witching wiles and wanton snare.'

Every one knows that as regards both branches of the warning, the king proved regardless, and much of the disastrous result of Flodden arose from the king's fatal dalliance with a renowned Border lady.

Of the loch itself there is not much to say, after it has been told that it is dominated on the north by the gentle and verdant declivity of _Glower-o'er-em_ or Bonnytoun Hill, on the summit of which is an elegant open gothic cross to the memory of Adrian Hope, a soldier of note who fell in the Indian mutiny. An exceedingly pleasant hour or two may be spent boating on the loch. On the level sward to the left of our view, the Linlithgow youth may be seen practising the game of cricket, for which use of the palace precincts leave is given. The palace grounds are open to the public, the building being in government hands, and, it is believed, swallowing up the whole rent of the small farm adjoining in the plasterers account for maintenance of the extensive ruins.

Within those walls the beautiful Mary Queen of Scots was born in 1542, and the room is shown, roofless and bare, as are other apartments of more or less interest. The newest part of the structure is on the north side, which is also the most ruinous, for when Hawley's dragoons, in 1746, set fire to the palace, the wooden floors here proved of course more easily destroyed than the vaulted and tiled floors in the older parts.

The porch, it may be mentioned, is copied at Abbotsford, and the fine fountain which stands in ruins in the courtyard has been reproduced in fac-simile at Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh. Leading to the palace from the town, the church door being also within it, is a fine gateway, with sculptured panels shewing the four knightly 'Orders' held by James V., namely, the Thistle, the Garter, the Golden Fleece, and St. Michael. The town of Linlithgow is a quiet, decayed county town, famous in history for the assassination of Regent Murray by Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh, in the High Street, and once distinguished by its singularly copious water supply from wells or springs, some of which still run on the streets, though most are now led into pipes for a general supply.

CORRA LINN.

The old rhyme has it that three of the finest rivers in Scotland set out to run a race, with varying fortunes:--

'The Tweed, the Annan and the Clyde, A' took their rise out o' ae hill side, Tweed ran, Annan wan, Clyde fell and brak its neck o'er Corra Linn.'

As an actual fact those three rivers find their head waters within a very narrow space. Annan, with the shortest course, falls into the Solway Firth; Tweed, getting many famous waters to strengthen its current, the Gala, the Yarrow, the Ettrick and the Teviot, rolls its noble course to the Border city of Berwick, and runs into the German Ocean. The Clyde, after surviving its leap over Corra Linn and other falls, becomes the great highway for ships at Glasgow, and has the most useful, as well as the most romantic career of the three.

Before it breaks its neck o'er Corra Linn, the Clyde has already met with an accident at Bonnington Linn, and rushes over rocks and gullies of the most hazardous kind, so that it reaches the greater fall in a condition of turmoil and agitation far removed from the gentle character of its earlier course. Above Bonnington,

'Smooth to the shelving brink, a copious flood Rolls fair and placid,'

but when it approaches Corra Linn, the water is alive and tumultuous, and plunges over really as if it would break its neck in its mad career.

To reach this fall, the visitor leaves the burgh of Lanark at its lower end, proceeds to Kirkfieldbank, and there obtains a card of admission to the grounds of Corehouse. The river is crossed at Kirkfieldbank, but long ere reaching this the water has quieted down, and flows gently along. The roar of Corra Linn may however be heard, especially if the Clyde be in flood. The walk after entering the grounds is not long, when, following the course indicated by cards (though the sound of the water indicates the way pretty well,) we reach the ruins of Corra Castle, just overhanging the fall. A little roadway,--quite safe, for it is on the solid rock--leads down to a projecting cliff from which, seated on the benches placed there for the purpose, the splendid sight can be viewed at leisure.

'Dashed in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft A living mist and forms a ceaseless shower.'

In the sun, tiny rainbows form, as different points of view are taken. The deafening roar of this grand cataract rises and falls in a singular way, as if every slight inequality in the volume of the river could be detected. The note is low and grand, so that the sound of the human voice, shrilly set above its deep diapason, is easily heard, and conversation can be quietly carried on. As in all great waterfalls, the impression is deepened and strengthened by familiarity. For one minute the feeling may arise 'is that all'--the next, the grandeur of the scene has won its way to the mind and taken captive the imagination. Sit for an hour and the feeling will grow, while to revisit it day after day for a week will intensify wonder and admiration at the marvellous scene. Does it plunge and roar thus, year in, year out, day and night, continuously? Is there no pause, no rest, for the tost and troubled water--no quietness for those reverberating rocks that stand around in awe of the ceaseless and giant power that has so eaten its way into their hearts?