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1804-1805.
MY brother and I left
Dornoch to return to our paternal home in the spring of 1803; it was
in autumn of the year 1804 that he left to go to sea. My worthy
stepmother never could agree with any of my father's children but
myself. My sisters and she had many painful rencontres, and Eneas,
being of a bold, determined disposition, became as impatient and
restive as they were. An open rupture had occurred about a month
previous to his going to sea, and this was the circumstance which
principally led to his departure. The matter was communicated to
Capt. Baigrie, who made all the necessary arrangements. So widely
acquainted was he with ship-captains and employers that he got my
brother appointed as a seaman, at the age of sixteen, on board a
West-India-man, in the employment of Messrs Forbes & Co., Aberdeen.
The hour of his departure at last came. Capt. Baigrie had sent a
bearer express to the manse to say that he must leave Kildonan next
day, and be at Helmisdale about 2 o'clock in the afternoon to go
aboard and sail to Aberdeen by a fishing smack, the master of which
was Capt. Coy, in the employ of Mr. William Forbes of Echt. From
Aberdeen he was immediately to proceed by the same conveyance to
London, there to go on board the West-India-man on a voyage to the
West Indies. The sudden message was as suddenly obeyed. My brother
did not hesitate for a moment. His trunk was packed up on that same
evening, and with scarcely three pounds in his pocket, and with
hardly a tear in his eye, did he next day at 10 o'clock bid a last
adieu to his father, stepmother and sisters. I accompanied him to Helmisdale, but could scarcely speak to him on the road; for I felt,
every step as we proceeded, as if my very life was gradually
deserting me. At Helmisdale Capt. Coy was waiting for us—a gruff,
harsh fellow, who said with an oath that we had been too long. The
smack's yawl lay close to the shingly shore, bouncing up and down
upon the waves which came in upon it one after another in rapid
succession. My brother's trunk was hoisted into the yawl, the small
anchor which bound it to the shore was unloosed and thrown with a
crash into the boat. Coy sang out, "Step in, and all hands to the
oars;" my brother grasped my hand, almost stupified with grief.
"Farewell, Donald," were his last words, when, instantly obeying the
summons, he placed himself by the side of Capt. Cod, the
seamen stretched to their oars, and I parted with him for ever? I
had not a tear to shed when he grasped my hand, not a word to say to
him when he bade me farewell; but, as the yawl scudded through the
waves and began to lessen in the distance, my heart sank within me,
and it is likely I would myself have sunk also to the ground had not
the flood-gates of sorrow been unclosed, and tears come to my
relief. My eyes filled so fast with tears that the yawl and the
loved being which it contained became quite invisible to me, and I
saw not his arrival at the smack. When I recovered a little, I
borrowed from Johnson, the salmon-boiler, a small telescope to take
my last look. The sails were all set, the smack had veered round to
proceed on her voyage, and I got the last glimpse of him as he stood
on the deck. My
brother's arrival in London lie intimated to us by letter. He
particularly made mention of the kindness of Mr. William Forbes of
Echt on his arrival at Aberdeen, iii whose employ, as a seaman on
board the West-India trader, lie went out. Mr. Forbes gave him a
strong recommendatory letter to the master of the trader, and, at
parting, a pound-note. With this money be purchased a few prints of
ships in gilt frames, which he sent as a peace-offering to his
stepmother. [The next and last letter received from Eneas was dated
from Philadelphia, U.S. In it he mentioned his having served for a
short time on board a British man-of-war. What became of him
afterwards was never known.—Ed.]
I may here refer to my father's tenants
and others who, at this time, lived in Kildonan. The first I notice
is James Gordon or Gow, a blacksmith, who occupied the peudicle of
Ach-nan-nighean. He could do everything to meet the demands and
wants of the parishioners but one, and that was to shoe horses. He
was not up to this, merely because the hoofs of the Highland garrons
were so hard, and the greater part of the sort of roads so soft,
that the inhabitants never thought of getting the feet of their
horses cased in iron. When my father was settled at Kildonan,
however, he got horses of a large size, which were accustomed to
that safeguard, and, in fact, could not do without it; so that while
all the smith-work of his kitchen, glebe, and farm was executed by
the said James Gordon, lie was under the necessity of sending his
horses to be shod to the neighbouring parish of Loth. My first
introduction to James Gordon was in the preparations made for him by
my father's servant. These consisted in making fuel for the smithy.
Peat, or moss, was the materiel. It was subjected to a certain
process by which it was converted into charcoal. Coals were not used
by any blacksmith in the county, and the process by which the smithy
fuel was prepared was simple enough. A large pit was dug in soft,
friable ground; dry peats were placed in it, tier above tier, so as
to burn when ignited, the whole being then kindled and allowed to
burn almost to a cinder, when it was covered up with earth until the
fire went out. The smith was a tall, slender man, with a countenance
full of solemnity. He had a theory of his own upon almost every
subject that came within his ken, and he was of the opinion that
nothing ever could or should be done, within the four corners of the
parish, without a previous consultation with him. He was always
complaining of the state of his health, and these complaints were
usually uttered when a more than ordinary arrear of parish work, in
the way of his calling, lay unperformed on his hands. It came,
therefore, to be a sort of a proverb among the people, if any one
complained of the state of his health without any good grounds for
it, that "he was a delicate person like James Gordon.' (Tha'e na
dhuin' anmhuinn, mar tha Seumas Gordon." Poor James Gow, however,
was upon the whole a kind and benevolent man, and of his hospitality
my brother and I had often a bountiful experience.
George Dalangall lived on the farm of
Kildonan. His house and garden originally stood close upon the bank
of the mill-stream, and hence be was usually called "Seoras na
h'ellich," or George of the mill-lade. His surname was Gunn, and as
he was of the family of the Gunns of Dalangall, he was more
frequently called "Scoras Dalaugall." I recollect but little of him,
as he died soon after our return from Dornoch. His widow long
occupied the pendicle of her husband after his decease, and every
one spoke of her under the designation of "Banntrach na h'ellich,"
or the widow of the mill-lade. Her son William and her daughter Kate
were our constant play-fellows at the burn-side. William, who
enlisted in the army, was in the Peninsular War, and returned
scathless to his native country.
John Sutherland was a popular edition of
"Isaac Walton," and to deer-hunting a perfect "Nimrod." Whilst
returning home about mid. night from an angling expedition on the
river Helmisdale, his way lay through the churchyard. On entering it
his attention was instantly arrested, and his rather hasty pace
interrupted by two eyes like flames of fire which glared at him out
of a new-made grave. Old "Ian Afbr" was not to be "dantorud"
however. He walked up to the grave, planted his grip on some hairy,
living thing which was in it, and which, in his grasp, jumped up and
down with great activity. He succeeded at last in hauling it out,
when it turned out to be a black ram belonging to one of his
neighbours. Ian Meadhonach was his eldest son. He was surnamed "the
middling" during his father's life-time because his younger brother
was also called John, a rather unusual occurrence. Thus the father
and two sons in the family were distinguished from each other by
being called "Ian" for, Ian Meadhonach, and Ian Bean," or "John the
big, the middling, and the little." John Meadhonach retained the
appellative after his father's death among the parishioners, but in
his own family he became Ian Mr. He inherited his father's passion
for angling and deer-hunting, and was also in his own way a bit of
an antiquary. He could repeat almost all Ossian's poems, and, what I
never saw in print, Ossian's tales. [According to Mr. Skene (see his
introduction to the "Book of the Dean of Lismore," edited by Dr.
Thomas Macbauchlan), the Ossianic poems, in their transmission,
passed through three different stages. In the first and oldest form
they were pure poems, of more or legs excellence, narrating the
adventures of those warrior hands whose memory still lingered in the
country. Each poem was complete in itself, and was attributed to one
mythic poet of the race which was celebrated. But as the language of
these poems became altered, and the reciters less able to retain the
whole, they would narrate, in ordinary prose, the events of the
parts they bad forgotten;. thus the poems would pass into the second
stage of prose tales, interspersed with fragments of verse. Bards of
later times became imitators of the older Ossianic poetry, and made
the tales, or intermediate prose narratives, the basis of their
poems. This was the third stage, in which the names and incidents of
the older poems were embedded in the new.—Ed.] I have still a faint
recollection of hearing John Meadhonach at our kitchen fireside,
during the time that a log of wood of considerable length was
consuming in the fire—about three or four hours—entertain his
interested audience with long oral extracts from our Celtic Homer.
illy father not only held the township of Kildonan in lease, but had
the right of fishing in the river, and John, as well as his two
brothers, were some of the crew of fishers with the net on the
glebe-pools whom my father employed. They were also poachers and
smugglers. They and their next neighbour, Donald Gunn, were
constantly in the habit of killing salmon, not only with the rod,
but with clips and spears, at that particular part of it already
described as the "Slagaig." They were so assiduous and successful
that they kept their families, almost throughout the whole year,
abundantly furnished with that savoury accompaniment to their
vegetable diet. They were perfectly aware that in doing so they
infringed on my father's fishing rights, and therefore, when they
were thus employed, they set a regular watch to give due warning of
the approach of the minister or either of his sons. At the first
note of alarm they instantly threw down their fishing implements,
and laid themselves prostrate under a huge rock above the Slagaig,
where they remained perfectly secure from further observation. John
was also a smuggler and a first-rate brewer of malt whisky. My
step-mother often employed him in making our annual brewst for
family use. We built a cow-house of stone and turf near the burn, at
the east dyke of the corn-yard. The hovel was also employed for
various other purposes, more especially for washing and brewing.
'There often, during the process of our whisky brewst, have I sat
with John, watching the process and hearing his tales. He had five
of a family, three daughters, Betty, Kate, and Jean, and two sons,
John and Donald. They were all remarkably handsome, particularly the
eldest daughter and youngest son. Betty "Mheadhonaich" married a
Robert Bruce; Kate, an Alexander Fraser Beag; and Jane one Angus
Mackay, son of Donald Mackay, the catechist. On his marriage with
Jane, Mackay immediately emigrated to America, where he soon
attained affluence; he left this country soon after our return from
Dornoch. John himself, with his wife and two sons, long afterwards
emigrated to the Red River, in Canada, under the direction of Lord
Selkirk, but he died during the passage. Poor John had a strong
attachment to my father, and a most profound veneration for him; and
though his wife and sons came to bid us farewell, lie himself, after
making four different attempts to come and take his last look of his
minister, finally gave it up. His two brothers Donald and John had
lived with him for a considerable time. Donald Mor, as he was
called, or "Muckle Donald," had, previous to our going to Dornoch
school, enlisted with General Wemyss, and with his regiment had been
in Ireland and England. But sometime before our return from school
lie had left the army, and come home, when he was soon engaged by my
father as his principal farm-servant, at the rate of £6 per annum as
wages. He afterwards settled in Kildonan, marrying Rose Gordon,
where they both lived to an advanced age. his younger brother, John
Beag, anxious after a while to do something for himself, became
principal farm-servant of a well-doing sonsy widow in Glutt of
Rraemore, Caithness. He }pleased her so well in this capacity that,
in a very short time, she offered to promote him to the rank of a
husband--an offer with which John instantly closed, and found
himself very comfortable. These men had a sister of the name of
Chirsty, better known among us as "Cairstean." She was unmarried,
and was employed as a post-runner from Brora to KiIdonan, is
distance of about fifteen miles. This distance, twice told,
Cairstean accomplished with much apparent ease, on foot, in the
course of a day, once a week throughout the year, she being at the
time about sixty years of age. She was for her years the most
unwearied pedestrian I ever knew. On one pressing occasion she went
and came from Kildonan to Dornoch, a distance little less than fifty
miles, in a day. She long suffered from a malignant tumour in her
arm, but finally repaired to the mineral well at Achnamoine, where,
after using the waters freely, both externally and internally, at
the end of two months she made a complete recovery.
Close by John Meadhonaeh's house stood
that of Donald Gnnn, one of the tightest and most active of
Highlanders. Indeed, every possible element which entered into the
structure of this man's mind, as well as into the size and make of
his body, combined to constitute him the very model of a Highland
peasant. He was exactly of the middle size, and well made, with just
as much flesh on his bones as simply served to cover them, and no
more. He had a face full of expression, which conveyed most
unequivocally the shrewdness, cunning, acuteness, and caustic humour
so strongly characteristic of his race. Donald Gunn surpassed his
whole neighbourhood and, perhaps, the whole parish, in all rustic
and athletic exercises. At a brawl, in which, however, he but seldom
engaged, none could exceed him in the dexterity and rapidity with
which he brandished his cudgel; and though many might exceed him in
physical strength, his address and alert activity often proved him
more than a match for an assailant of much greater weight and size.
Then in dancing he was without a rival. With inimitable ease and
natural grace he kept time, with eye and foot and fingers, to all
the minute modulations of a Highland reel or Strathspey. He was also
a good shot, a successful deer stalker, angler, smuggler, and
poacher. Donald, however, with all these secular and peculiarly
Highland recommendations was little better than a heathen. He was
always under suspicion, and latterly made some hair-breadth escapes
from the gallows, for he was, by habit and repute, a most notorious
thief. His wife, Esther Sutherland, was a native of Caithness, and a
very handsome woman. His daughter Janet married a man Bruce from
Loist, and Jane married a Malcolm Fraser, who was afterwards drowned
at Helmisdale. His son Robert went to America with Lord Selkirk's
colony, and in an affray between these settlers and those of the
North-West Company poor Robert Gunn was killed.
Mr. Donald MacLeod, parochial
schoolmaster, was also one of my father's tenants. I have already
mentioned him. At the fellowship meetings, both in the church where
my father presided, and privately in the neighbourhood, Mr. MacLeod
shone brightly in communicating his views and experience of the
power of Divine truth on the heart. He had also the gift and the
grace of prayer; even the most careless and thoughtless could not
but be affected even to tears by the fervency, the solemnity, and
appropriateness of his prayers. Donald MacLeod had, however, as who
has not, his failings and even peccadillos. He and my father were
warmly attached to one another, and he and his family were
invariably our guests on such holidays as Christmas and \ew-Year's
day. On such occasions poor Donald used to indulge in rather deep
potations of strong ale and toddy, much to the damage of his senses.
On one of these festive occasions, as he was returning home,
exceedingly unsteady in his movements, hobbling first to one side of
the road and then to the other, he was noticed and pursued by a
pugnacious old gander which we had at the time. The creature having
made up to him, fastened upon his coat-tails, and kept dangling back
and fore behind him, exactly in accord with his own movements, the
poor schoolmaster himself being all the while quite unconscious of
his follower. He was very useful in the parish, for he could let
blood, and was a daily reader of "Buchan's Domestic Medicine," all
whose instructions lie rigidly, and often successfully, practised.
He also, every Sabbath evening, kept what was called "a reading,"
the substitute in those days for Sabbath schools. Towards the close
of his life, the contention between grace and corruption within him
appeared to wax hotter and hotter, till at last, on his death-bed,
he exhibited most clearly the magnificent moral spectacle of a great
sinner, washed "white in the blood of the Lamb," entering upon the
world unseen, triumphing through faith in the acceptance and hope of
a free and eternal salvation. His wife was the daughter of "Ian
Thappaidh," the target at which Rob Donn shot off his most envenomed
shafts of satire. Widow of John Gunn, schoolmaster of Kildonan, the
immediate predecessor of MacLeod, she had two children by her former
husband, namely, Isobel and and Walter. Isobel married worthy Evan
Macpherson. Walter, her brother, was the acquaintance of my earliest
years, and the object of nearly my- first recollections. I now
remember many things illustrative of Walter's personal kindness to
us, as well as of his own private history. Walter Gunn was a
mechanic, something also of a naturalist, a gardener and a musician.
He cultivated many varieties of seeds and flowers. His currants—red,
black and white—were the best in the county. But his step-father and
his brother by the second marriage and he did not very well agree.
He took his resolution, therefore, and at last went to America.
Donald MacLeod had four children—John, George, Margaret, and
Christina. John, his eldest son, enlisted in the army, and his
enlistment created, when known (for it was done secretly), a
terrible sensation in his father's family. George remained at home,
and became his father's successor. He married a daughter of Adam
Gordon of Rhenivy, half-sister of the late Mr. George Gordon,
minister of Loth. His brother, John, returned from the army, after
many years' service, and lived at Tain. Margaret married one Fraser,
or Grant, who lived at Fethnafall, in the heights of the parish.
Chirsty married a Joseph Sutherland, from the parish of Loth. Mrs.
MacLeod long survived her second husband; she died at the very
advanced age of ninety-eight.
Thomas Gordon of Achnamoine held office
as a justice of the peace, and was, moreover, a perfect enthusiast
as a magistrate. He imagined that the cause of justice depended on
his personal exertions. If the people of Kildonan did not furnish
him with weekly opportunities of deciding in his worshipful capacity
their various cases of dispute, Thomas Gordon put them in mind that
justice was to be had for the asking. Quartering himself at the
manse, he directed all disputants to repair to Donald Gunn's house,
to have their disputes finally settled by his arbitration. I
recollect, on one of these occasions, having had the special honour
conferred upon me of being chosen clerk to his worship, and of
having received his fee, the sum of one shilling! Of the farm of
Achnamoine Gordon was tacksman, holding it in lease from the family
of Sutherland. To his wife he was devotedly attached, and he never
wearied of talking about her. She was a pious, amiable person, but
she was always in had health, and died many years before her
husband. They had a large family of sons and daughters. Robert, the
eldest, emigrated to America. Charles, their second son, held the
farm after his father's death, but previous to that held a
commission in the army; and, while on military duty at Portsmouth,
got acquainted with the family of a gentleman named Russel, one of
whose daughters he married. Having retired on half-pay, lie came
home with his wife, after his father's death, to reside at
Achnamoine. On their way thither they spent two days at Kildonan
manse. The wife accompanied her lord to a country, the localities,
accommodations, and privations of which she had not thought or
dreamed of. On the morning previous to their departure from my
father's house to Achnamoine, she asked my step-mother what sort of
a domicile might be found at Achnamoine, and whether it was like the
manse. My step-mother led her to the gable window of the upper cast
room, and pointing very emphatically to John Meadhonach's long,
straggling, turf hovel, which might be seen from the window, said,
"it is, like that, but scarcely so good." The poor Anglo-Saxon burst
into tears, and exclaimed, "Mercy on me," but, checking herself,
added, " Well, domestic happiness is as sweet even in a cot as in a
palace." And it was as she said. She lived with her husband many
years in the turf-house at Achnamoine very happily. When Charles
Gordon took possession of the farm, after his father's death, and
his brother's departure to America, a better house was built by him;
and I have been many a comfortable night there, as their guest, when
at Achness. He retained the farm until after my father's death,
when, on the expiry of his lease, he first resided at Avoch, in
Ross-shire, and afterwards with his wife's relatives in Portsmouth.
Hugh, the third son, also got a commission in the army, and retired
on half-pay. Of him and his sisters more hereafter. Their mother was
a sister of Mr. Gordon of Loth.
Alexander Gordon at Dalehairn I have
already named. My acquaintance with him commenced at an early
period. He was a wealthy and substantial tenant, as well as a most
hospitable man. During any vacancy in the mission of Achuess, in
which the upper part of the parish of Kildonan was comprehended, my
father preached at Ach-uah'uaighe, and quartered himself at
Dalchairn. Alastair Gordon and his wife, as well as the members of
his family, were often Saturday and Sabbath evening guests at
Kildonan. Presents too of mutton, butter and cheese were frequently
sent to the manse, and good old Alastair and his kind and hearty
wife would not be content with an interchange of hospitality and
friendship to this amount only; they insisted upon it that my
brother and I should spend the Christmas holidays with them. 1
distinctly remember these festive occasions. To give us a more than
ordinary treat tea was prepared for breakfast, a luxury almost
unknown in these hyperborean regions. Gordon's second daughter Anne,
who then had the management of her father's house, would insist on
preparing it. She put about a pound of tea into a tolerably
large-sized pot, with nearly a gallon of "burn" water, and seasoned
the whole as she would any other stew, with a reasonable proportion
of butter, pepper, and salt! When served up at the breakfast table,
however, the sauce only was administered, the leaves being reserved
for future decoctions. The old man had an unceasing cough, very
sharp and loud, which was not a little helped by his incessant use
of snuff. His wife was a lineal descendant of the Strath Uilligh
Sutherlands. She had a brother, a kind, hospitable man, usually
called Rob Muiller, with whom we often lunched on our way down the
Strath. Alastair Gordon himself was a cadet of the Gordons of Embo.
They had a numerous family. Gilbert, their second son, was a
non-commissioned officer in the 93rd regiment, but afterwards went
to Berbice, where he realised a few thousand pounds as a planter,
came home, married a daughter of Captain John Sutherland of Brora,
lost all his money by mismanagement, and ultimately emigrated to
America. John, the eldest son, went to America about thirty years
ago. He died leaving his family in easy circumstances. Robert also
followed him three or four years after. William got a commission in
the army, went to Jamaica, returned on half-pay, and lived in
poverty at Rosemarkie. He was always a strange mixture of the shrewd
wording and the born fool. Another of Dalchairn's sons went to
Jamaica, and died soon after his arrival. Their daughter Anne
married one John Gordon of Solus-chraiggie; she lived with her
husband at Dalchairn after her father's death, and afterwards took a
lot of land in the village of Helmisdale, and a sheep farm in
Caithness. Her husband (lied a few years ago, in consequence of cold
caught in his winter journeys from his house at Helmisdale to his
Caithness sheep-farm. When they lived at Dalchairn, both before and
after the old man's death, I was frequently their guest during my
incumbency at Achness. Alastair Gordon's eldest daughter married
John Macdonald, tacksman of AchScarclet in Strathmore, Caithness, a
noted Highland drover. After his death his widow and family
emigrated to America.
George Mackay of Araidh-Chlinni. in the
heights of the parish, was another of my acquaintances, and a
frequent visitor at the manse. He was chieftain of a sept of the
Clan Mackay which was coeval with, if not prior to, that of the
chiefs themselves. George was it man of piety, wit, and natural
shrewdness. For piety he had universal credit in the parish. On
sacramental occasions he was one of the most pointed and lucid
speakers to the question at the Friday fellowship meetings. His wit
was almost overflowing, and his sayings and doings are still
remembered by his surviving friends. "A dry, ripe potato,
well-boiled," he would remark, " was the only friend whom he would
wish to see in a ragged coat." His Highland farm he rented from the
family of Sutherland. He made an annual pilgrimage to Golspie to pay
his rent to the factor, who resided at Rhives, a place in the
immediate vicinity. On one occasion, going thither in company of a
more than usual number of tacksmen on the same errand as himself,
they were at night-fall rather hardup for want of lodgings. George,
who was himself a man of unbounded and unceasing hospitality,
applied to the keeper of a small inn, at the village of Golspie, for
a bed and supper. His request was refused; he could neither get the
one nor the other for love or money. Reduced to this extremity,
Araidh-chlinni asked the innkeeper to allow him to sit by his
kitchen fire during the night. This also was refused, so that he was
under the necessity of mounting his nag and riding home on a cold
frosty night. At parting he told his surly host that it was not
altogether improbable that they two might meet again, and that the
rude and inhospitable innkeeper might very possibly beg a night's
lodgings from the man he had used so harshly. The landlord told him
in reply that, if ever such a thing happened, he would give him full
liberty to hang him up at his door. But, in thoughtlessly reckoning
for the future, men not unfrequently become their own judges, and
pronounce their own doom; so at least it happened with the Golspie
innkeeper. He had a few stots grazing on the heights of Kildonan,
and going about a year thereafter in quest of them, he was benighted
at the foot of Beinn 'Ghriam-mhor. Struggling hard for life through
a swamp, long and large and deep enough to have summarily disposed
of all the "men in the Mearns," he perceived a light glimmering
through the gloom, for which he made straightway. On his arrival at
the spot he found it proceeded from the window of a long straggling
cottage, and, tremblingly alive to the value of food and shelter, he
knocked at the door. His summons was instantly responded to; the
door opened, and in a few minutes he found himself seated beside a
huge peat fire, and a table in readiness for the evening meal. The
landlord eyed his shivering guest with a smile of recognition, but
the Golspie roan did not recognise him in return. A blessing was
asked on the bountiful meal, and the guest was cheerily invited to
partake, which he proceeded to do. But, just as he was making
himself comfortable, and vastly agreeable with his jokes and news
and small chat, he was suddenly interrupted by his landlord calling
out in a stentorian voice, " Get the halters; get the halters; this
is my very civil Golspie landlord who wouldn't allow inc even sit
supperless by his fireside, but thrust me out at his door; and who
told me that, when he ever came to ask such a favour of me, he would
give me full liberty to bang him up." Completely prostrated, the
innkeeper had not a word to say in arrest of judgment. After
enjoying his triumph, however, and his guest `a confusion, for a
short time, during which some of the domestics became clamorous that
the fellow should be hanged forthwith, Araidh-chlinni told him to
make himself quite easy; that the rights of hospitality ought to be
exercised, not on the selfish principles of corrupt nature, but
according to the law of Christ—to do to others as we would that
others should do to us. Araidh-chlinni had a family of sons and
daughters; I remember three of them. Robert, his eldest son, was
when a young man on marriage terms with one Chirsty Gunli, our
dry-nurse during my mother's life-time, and a woman of eminent
piety. She died, however, just when they were to be proclaimed in
church. He afterwards got a commission in the army, and rose to the
rank of captain. He married a Miss Medley Climes, niece of Col.
Clones of Cracaig, parish of Loth, by whom he had one daughter. He
retired on half-pay, and established his residence in the
neighbourhood of Inverness. His daughter married Col. Mackay. She is
a woman of piety and talent. Araidh-clllinni's second son George
emigrated to America. His eldest daughter Catherine, well known to
us when children as " Katie na h'aridh," married a George Mackay, or
MacHastain, a native of Strath Halladale, and a wrathful man who,
when he came to reside at his father-in-law's house during his
declining years,uarrelled with all his neighbours, and then with his
own wife, who endured his rough treatment with much forbearance. He
had four sons. The eldest, George, was a grocer in Inverness, and
very much like his father in character. He succeeded well in his
trade, and dabbled not a little in politics and religion; in the
former being a rabid Whig and making a great show of the latter. The
second brother, John, was also a grocer at Inverness, and married a
daughter of Mackay of Carnachadh, Stratlmaver. The other two
brothers went abroad and died, while their only sister married an
Andrew Mackay, a grocer at Helmisdale.
Robert Gunn of Achaneccan was another of
the old men of my youthful remembrance. He was the acknowledged
lineal descendant and representative of the chiefs of Clan Gunn in
the parish; although that landless and fallen honour was some years
afterwards claimed by Hector Gunn of Thurso, whose only son became
factor to the Duke of Sutherland. Robert of Achaneccan was, however,
unquestionably nearer of kin. His farm, on which he had a number of
sub-tenants, was scarcely two miles distant from Kinbrace, the seat
of his renowned ancestor. He was a gentleman-like old man, who had
been much in good society, and had received a somewhat liberal
education. His descendants are still to be found here and there in
the county of Caithness.
John Grant of Dioball, to whom I have
already referred in connection with my father's settlement at
Kildonan, was a truly pious man. 10 two things in one soul, however,
could be placed in more direct, or even outrageous contrast with
each other than all that there was of grace and all that remained of
corrupt nature, in the soul of John Grant. As a vital Christian he
was, for the depth and the extent of his knowledge of the truth,
quite remarkable. His views were vivid, original, solid, and
scriptural, and the language in which he expressed them was
calculated, by its terseness, accuracy, and point, to do all justice
in conveying them to the mind and comprehension of his
fellow-Christians. He was also, although an illiterate man, yet
unquestionably one of very considerable native talent. His life
corresponded with his views and profession as a Christian in one
respect, namely, in abstractedness from the every-day business and
bustle of the world. But it was more the abstractedness of a hermit
or ascetic, or of a naturally eccentric character, than that of a
plain and practical Christian. His natural disposition, too, was not
only hot and impetuous, but often ferocious. To indulge it he did
not care whom he assailed, whether friend or foe. The one went down
just as surely as the other before the explosions of his temper, and
the merciless sarcasms which he launched forth against all, be they
whom they might, who ventured to set themselves in opposition to his
views or prejudices. I knew John Grant from my very earliest years.
My brother and I, on our way down the Strath to meet our father on
his way home, were very kindly entertained by him in his house at
Dioball. Although he never attended church, he was a frequent
visitor at the manse. He had a wide circle of admirers in
Sutherlandshire and elsewhere, who liberally supplied him with
everything that he needed. He left Kildonan, and lived afterwards at
Strathy, then at Thurso, and lastly at Reay, where he died in 1828.
The other respectable tenantry in the
parish I shall have an opportunity of describing when I come to
record the particulars of my ministry at Achness.
It was intended that I should go to
college, but as my father's stipend was small, and his circumstances
consequently limited, all was to depend on my obtaining a bursary at
either King's or Marischal College, Aberdeen. Mr. Ross of Clyne had
gone to Aberdeen with his son, to attend the Greek class at
Marischal College; and, as he was a warm friend of my father, he
sought to be serviceable to me. No sooner, therefore, did he arrive
in Aberdeen than he set himself to procure a presentation bursary
for me at Marischal College. Through his address he got himself
introduced to the Town Council, who had in their gift a presentation
bursary (for one year) of £9 stg. His introduction to the Council
was through the Lord Provost, Mr. Leys, a wealthy wine-merchant.
With the Provost Mr. Ross had been acquainted many years before, and
his acquaintanceship with him he renewed so much to my advantage,
that the bursary was, by a majority of the Council, carried over the
heads of twenty candidates, natives of the city, and granted to
myself. This intelligence Mr. Ross immediately communicated to my
father. The letter was received on a Friday; and, on Monday morning
early, my father, Muckle Donald, and I set out for Aberdeen. My
father accompanied me as far as Tain, where we arrived on Tuesday
morning. The night previous we spent at Dornoch. At Tain we
breakfasted at Turnbull's Inn, where we received great kindness and
good cheer from Mrs Turnbull, a stout, jolly old lady, who, having
buried her husband, an Englishman of the name of Combe, had solaced
herself for her loss by taking his ostler of the name of Turnbull,
in his place. After breakfast she stuffed my pockets with fine large
apples; and my father parted with me to return home. Muckle Donald
and I then tramped it on foot, from thence all the way to Aberdeen.
The day we left Tain, crossing the Ivergordon ferry, we slept and
supped at the lnn of Balblair in this parish, of which now I am
minister. 1 was just fifteen, and the length of the journey proved
too much for me. Within two miles of Inverury, 1 fairly broke down,
and fell prostrate upon the roadside. There was a small farm-house,
with a steading, hard by. By Diuckle Donald I was borne into the
house. The family received us with hearty and unsophisticated
kindness. My whole story was soon told, and it was not told in vain.
Some milk warmed and mixed with pepper was given me to drink, which
at once revived me; and a fellow-traveller who had cone in along
with us partook of the same wholesome beverage, deriving from it
also the same benefit. I was after all, however, too weak to walk;
and this being understood, the good man of the house, with all the
warm-heartedness of a Scotch peasant, went to his stable, saddled
his horse, mounted me upon him, and brought me most safely and
comfortably to the "Head Inn" at Inverury. My heart overflowed with
gratitude to him. On our arrival I offered him a dram and he took
it; I offered him money and a feed for his horse, but lie refused
it. He bade me adieu, mounted his horse, disappeared in the dark,
and I never again met him.
I arrived in Aberdeen next day, and went
at once to the house of my friend Mrs. Gordon, who received me with
all the affection of a mother. Since her husband's death she had
chiefly resided here, on her limited income. Her house was at the
head of the Upper Kirkgate. I remained there until I got lodgings in
Blackfriars Street Green, in the house of a man named Fleming. 1 met
with Mr. Ross of Clyne, his son William, and William Houston, son of
Major Hugh Houston of Clynleish. Both young men came to college
under the care of Mr Ross, and they were all three lodged at the
house of a Mr. Cantley, one of the town's officers, also in the
Upper Kirkgate. I called upon Mr. Ross immediately after my arrival
to thank him for his active friendship, and was received by him and
by the two young men with much kindness. I also called upon and
drank tea with Mrs. Sutherland, my stepmother's sister, who then
lived in Aberdeen. Miss Jane Baigrie, eldest daughter and only child
of Captain Baigrie of Midgarty by his first marriage, lived as a
boarder with Mrs. Sutherland. I. was much struck with her
appearance. She was rather a pretty girl; but some years before, and
just on the eve of her marriage, she, in running across a street in
London, unfortunately came in contact with a window-shutter, and the
violence of the blow broke the bridge of her nose. The consequence
was that her betrothed ran off and left her. I shall mention her
afterwards, In
the house in the Green I found before me a fellow-lodger and
class-fellow named Gourlay. His father, an old man, was assistant
minister of Arbuthnot, in the Presbytery of Fordoun, with a large
family and an allowance of £bO per annum. Fleming, my landlord, let
an upper storey to lodgers in order to better his condition. He was
an industrious creature, and did all lie could to procure a
livelihood. His wife was the very model of an Aberdeenshire woman in
three particulars—she spoke to perfection the vile lingo of her
county, she was an inveterate smoker, and her loquacity was
interminable. 'Their only son William, who was clerk in one of the
banking offices of the city, was a warm-hearted, generous fellow.
Our landlady boarded us for the very reasonable sum of eight
shillings each per week, but our fare corresponded with the rate. We
were often dined upon what our hostess called "milk-pothage." She
was a shrewd, sensible woman, and having a high sense of decorum,
she made it a point to read every night a chapter in the Bible. To
this devotional act she attributed her success in life. She would
often take up the old quarto Bible from which she read, and, wiping
the dust from it with great reverence, would say—"It's grid my part
to tak' care o' that buik, for it has aye keeppit me richt in the
warld until noo."
Of my amiable friend Mrs. Gordon my
recollections are vivid and interesting. My personal attachment to
her, and, I must add, my short commons at Flemiug's, made me a
frequent visitor at her house. After dining at my lodgings at 2
o'clock, I was often privileged to partake with her at 4.30 r.mt.
Her servant-maid was a Christy Grant, a native of Loth. Mrs. Gordon
attended the West Church, but Christy went regularly to the Gaelic
Chapel, then under the pastoral care of Mr. Neil Kennedy, of whom I
was a frequent hearer. To accustom me to the manners of good
society, Mrs. Gordon introduced me to many of her acquaintances,
particularly to Dr. MacPherson of King's College.
I remember my first session at Marischal
College more distinctly than the succeeding ones. The college
buildings which then existed were in a state of rapid decay. They
had been erected by George, fifth Earl Marischal, in 1593; and the
lapse of two centuries had reduced them to what was little better
than a habitable ruin. The fabric consisted of a long, lofty,
central building of four storeys, with a wing of the same height at
one end, and a huge, clumsy tower, intended for an observatory, at
the other. In the front of the central building, at the spring of
the roof, was a clock; the windows were small, and the mason-work
was of the coarsest kind. On the wing were two inscriptions, the one
in Greek, namely: "Arete ant' arkes," or "virtue is its own reward;"
the other was in broad Scotch: "They'll say; quilk will they say,
let them say." I have been told that the latter inscription had a
pointed allusion to the plainness of the structure, and to the
religion of its founder. King's College in Old Aberdeen far excelled
it in antiquity and splendour, and in the extent of its revenue.
Besides all this, King's College, which was founded by Bishop
Elphinstou, was dignified on its first establishment, in 1494, by a
papal bull. Marischal College was built during the progress of the
Reformation, and was set up as a Protestant institution. The
internal accommodation consisted of a large hall on the ground floor
of the central building, called "the public school," where all the
students, at 8 A.M., met for prayer. Nothing could be more mean or
wretched than this hall. It was a long, wide place, perhaps 100 feet
by 20; the windows, which were three in number, were short and
narrow, and were fitted with glass in the upper sash, and boards in
the lower. The floor was paved with stone, and along the walls ran a
wooden bench on which the students sat while the roll was called,
and during prayers. There were two raised desks in the centre of the
hall, the one for the principal and professors on Fridays, the
other, right opposite, for any student who had it Latin oration to
deliver. In short, the whole gave one an idea of a hastily-built
granary. Above the public school was the college hall; it was
handsome, and worthy of a literary institution. The walls were hung
with fine old prints, as well as full-length and
three-quarter-length portraits of eminent men, more particularly of
benefactors to the College. Among others was that of Field-Marshal
Keith. In this hall the students met for the annual public
examination. Above the hall, and in the upper Hat, were the library,
containing a very mediocre collection of books, and the museum, not
remarkable either, The north wing, constituting the observatory
tower, contained on the ground floor the Greek class-room, and above
it was the divinity hall. In the third flat were apartments for one
of the professors. On top of all was the observatory, or
astronomical-room, reached by a winding stair. On the roof of the
tower were placed philosophical instruments, rain-gauges, etc., and
over this department presided the professor of Natural Philosophy,
whose family lived in the apartments below. The south wing contained
the Natural History, Natural Philosophy, and Mathematical
class-rooms, and the apartments of the professor of Mathematics and
Greek. Behind the college, to the east. was a garden, rendered
interesting in connection with the early youth of James Hay Beattie,
son of the eminent Dr. Beattie of Marischal College. It was here
that young Beattie, then almost in infancy, feeling his ardent and
precocious powers of observation directed to the sudden growth of
some tresses which he had seen sown there a few days previously,
asked his father what made them grow so soon, or grow at all. In
reply to this simple question the moralist took that early
opportunity of initiating in his son's mind the notion and belief in
a God supreme and omnipotent. [Dr. James Beattie was born at
Laurencekirk, in 1735, and graduated at Dlarischal College in 1753.
In 1760 he Issued a volume of "Original Poems and Translations." He
was shortly afterwards appointed Professor of Moral Philosophy in
Marischal College. He published in 1770 his celebrated "Essay on
Trutb," in 1774 "The Minstrel," and in 1793 the second volume of
"Moral Science." The University of Oxford conferred upon him the
degree of LL.D. On his retirement from the professorial chair he was
succeeded by his son James Hay, who died in 1790. Dr. Beattie died
in 184)3. He had sown some tresses in the garden to form the
initials of his son's name. From this ho taught him the argument for
the existence of God, drawn from the evidences of design in
nature.—Ed.] The College Close, as it was called, was an open space,
about an acre and a-half in extent, in front bf the buildings and
surrounded with houses. Tn the south-west corner of it stood
Greyfriars Church, usually styled the College Church, not only from
its immediate vicinity to that building, but because a gallery in
the eastern wing was appropriated for the accommodation of the
professors and students. Grey-friars Church was then only on the
footing of a Chapel of Ease, its minister not having a seat in the
Presbytery. Close by stood a low, mean-looking building, with a
tiled roof, intended for the chemical class then taught by Dr.
French. The
course pursued at Marischal College consisted in giving regular
attendance at the University for four years, the first year at
Greek; the second, at the Humanity, General and Natural History, and
first Mathematical classes; the third, at the Natural Philosophy and
second Mathematical classes; and, in the fourth year, at the Moral
Philosophy and Logic classes. Graduation for the degree of Master of
Arts, at the close of the fourth session, was a mere matter of
ordinary routine—a sort of literary masquerade for the pecuniary
benefit of the College officials.
The Professor of Greek at Mariscbal College, in 1804, was John
Stewart of Inchbreck, in the county of Kincardine. lie was a frank
and friendly man, and of his friendship I had a large experience
during my attendance at College. Recommended to him as I was by Mr.
Ross of Clyne, he took charge of my pecuniary affairs, and so
managed them that I actually had more money on returning than I had
on coming to College. It was chiefly by his means and influence that
I enjoyed a bursary every year of my philosophical course. He
married Miss Mowat of Ardo, in Kincardine, the last of an ancient
line, which, by her death in 1823, became extinct. Her sister was
the wife of Rev. Dr. Peters of Dundee. Prof. Stewart had •five of a
family, three sons, Andrew, Alexander, and Charles; also two
daughters. Andrew studied medicine and went abroad. Alexander
studied law in Edinburgh, where I met him during my attendance at
the Divinity Hall. Of Charles and of the elder daughter I know
nothing; but the second, some years after her parents' death, became
the second wife of Mr. Glennie of Maybank, near Aberdeen.
To the method of teaching adopted by
Prof. Stewart I may now refer. The books were Dunlop's Greek
Grammar, written in Latin, also a small selection from the Greek
writers, entitled a `'Delectus." This compilation was edited by
Prof. Stewart, and contained excerpts from Æsop's Fables, Lucian's
Dialogues, Æian, Isocrates, Demosthenes, with Libanius' argument;
also from Anacreon, Sappho, Aristotle, TheoCritus, and Bion, the
whole comprehended in a small, thin volume of about 108 pages. Ile
also used the Greek Testament and Homer's Iliad. His method of
instruction was rather stiff and superficial. After mastering the
Grammar, we proceeded to read, translate, and analyse the Greek
Testament; then we got the Delectus to read, and, lastly, towards
the close of the session, we studied a part of Homer's Iliad, Book
xxiv. I may here observe that the particular book of the Iliad which
we read marked the number of the years of our Professor's
incumbency. He made it a part of his system to read with his class,
every year, a book of the Iliad, commencing with the first, and
going on to the next in order next session; so that the first
session of my attendance at College was the twenty - fourth of Mr.
Stewart's professorship.
Of my fellow-students, Peter Blackie
attained some distinction. He was one of the many sons of a plumber,
in Little John Street, His disposition was close, dogged, and
sullen, and his countenance was a true expression of it. He studied
medicine, went abroad as surgeon of a man-of-war, came into converse
with Bonaparte, and, on his return, set up as a surgeon and lecturer
in Aberdeen. He married a Miss Levingston, the daughter of a Col.
Levingston, and one of the handsomest woman in Aberdeen. He died a
few years ago. His brother, an Aberdeen advocate, was Provost of
Aberdeen, and a man of weight and influence. His sister, a very
beautiful girl, married Dr. Keith, of St. Cyrus, who has attained to
such eminence as a writer on prophecy. Another of my
fellow-students, Robert J. Brown, was third son of the Principal of
the College, the Very Rev. William Laurence Brown, D.D., one of the
most accomplished classical scholars in Europe. Robert made a
respectable appearance in the classes. Soon after being licensed to
preach, he was presented to the parish of Clatt, in the Presbytery
of Alford, and on the demise of Prof. Stewart was appointed his
successor in the Greek Class, in which he and I had been
class-fellows. Another fellow-student, Thomas Fordyce, was the
youngest son of Arthur Dingwall Fordyce of Culsh, Commissary of
Aberdeen. His eldest sister was married to Professor Bentley of the
Hebrew Class, in King's College, by whom she had two daughters, with
whom I was well acquainted when residing there during my incumbency
as minister of the Gaelic Chapel.
I returned home, at the close of the
session, by sea. I took any passage for I-Ielmisdale, on a
salmon-fishing smack, which was in the service of Forbes and Hogarth,
who then held the Sutherland rivers in lease from the Marchioness of
Stafford. My friend Capt. Baigrie had given me a letter of
introduction to Mr. William Forbes of Echt, who was so friendly to
Eneas; and during my first session at college, I frequently called
upon him at the quay-side. He was a kind, fatherly man, and received
me with much urbanity. Mr. Forbes' eldest son James, the present
proprietor, was in partnership with his father. Mr. James Forbes was
then married, and had several children. His wife was a Miss Niven of
Thornton, the sister of Sir Harry Niven Lumsden of Achindoir. I
frequently met Mr. James Forbes in his father's office, and
afterwards saw him at Midgarty.
The smack which bore me homewards was
the identical one by which my brother sailed to London, but had a
different master; Coy had been replaced by a rough fellow of the
name of Colstone. I went on board about 2 o'clock in the afternoon,
and dined before we set sail. Feeling hungry I partook largely of a
coarse, greasy dinner at the skipper's table. It consisted of very
fat broth and still fatter meat. Colstone, not content with
swallowing the most enormous quantities of clear fat I had ever seen
attempted even by a famished mastiff, after all was overreased his
face with it, to keep out the cold as I supposed. This sappy dinner,
as well as the remembrance of the skipper's face, served me for a
strong emetic during the voyage homewards, which was both tedious
and tempestuous. On going out at the pier-head the billows rose "
mountains high," and as they rose, both my spirits and my stomach
fell. The dinner with its associations presented themselves before
me every half-hour, until I became grievously sick, and my very ribs
ached again with the pressure of vomiting. The wind blew a hurricane
from the west, and in the course of twelve hours we were close on
the Sutherland coast, opposite Helmisdale, the place of our
destination. But here again the wind chopped round in our very
teeth, and we were for three days tossed back and fore on the Moray
Firth in view of the harbour, without Leing able to enter it. The
storm was so violent that even the skipper himself became sick. I
was a Sabbath at sea; and although the wind blew contrary, the day
was fine. The sailors observed the day with great decorum. There was
nothing like social or public worship, but when any one of them got
a spare hour, he laid himself face downwards on the floor of the
cabin and conned over the New Testament. We left Aberdeen on a
Friday, and landed at the mouth of the Helmisdale River on the
Tuesday morning thereafter. I shall never forget the strong and
penetrating feeling of joyous safety with which I leaped out of the
ship's boat on the pebbly shore of the river near the Corf-house.
Mr. Thomas Houston, now of Kintradwell, met me on the beach, and
with him I went to the house of Mrs. Houston, his mother. After a
cordial welcome and a hasty breakfast I walked up the Strath to
Kildonan, where I found my worthy father engaged in the annual
examination of the Parish School. He received me with a father's
kindness, took me into his large embrace, and kissed me before the
whole assemblage.
But it is high time to hasten to the
close of this chapter. At the very time I am recording these
reminiscences of early youth (January, 1843), the sky of Providence
is darkening down with more than ordinary gloom on the Church of my
Fathers. I do think that it has pleased God, in His inscrutable
wisdom, to appoint my lot in life at the beginning of "troublous
times," and times such as neither I hitherto, nor my fathers before
me, have experienced. I shall, therefore, endeavour to hurry over
the various incidents of my life till the period when these troubles
began, so that while they are in progress I may, whether as a
spectator or a sufferer, in any case as an eye-witness, record them. |
