DONNACHA BAN, gu 'm faiceam slan." [Duncan Ban, may I see
Iain, [Battle-victory lo thee, John.] and it is glad I arn to meet thee here. And when didst
thou come over the hills, and what is new in the Land of the
"I came to Alastair's last night, and there is not
any sgeul from the Land of the Pines except that the Rid ire '
is very ill. They say the gout has taken his head, and that his
mind has gone into a cloud."
"It is sorry I am to hear
"And it is indeed the sorrow for the whole Land of the
Gael to lose a good master of land now-a-days, for they don't
grow so plentifully."
"That is the sorrow. Just look at the
Marquis of lnchadin. Was not his father as good a master of land
as ever stood in brogues? But lo ! you, what is the son? A
great Reformer whom they put up in the Parliament House in
London towhat did they call it?move the Address, in the
Reform Bill year. Aye, truly, and he is here at home reforming
the old tenants of whole baronies off the face of the land !
Yes, indeed, and the forefathers of these old tenants made him
and his what they are by the power of their swords."
clears out kith and kin, not many times removed, along with the
others, I anftold."
"To be sure he does that. Then look at
the race of Black Charles. They were sadly aggrieved and
wronged, it is the many hundreds of years ago, and when their
heads were under the wood, they became black and bloody foes to
their former oppressors, and to all the opponents of their clan.
What would have been the worth of the Inchadin charters if they
had not been made good by this fierce sept of the clan ? Well,
the Marquis has the profit, and the children of Black Charles
have the scaith ; they ventured soul and body in building up the
greatness of the Inchadin House, and the Marquis pays the long
debt of gratitude by sending barda x to men of that race, just
like to others."
"Perhaps he knew nothing at all about the
" The more the shame to him. What business
has a man in such a position not to know such things as
"Oh! there are no chiefs, or at
least very few, now-a-days It is a matter of highest rent and
"Aye, but more of game even than of rent." "The Inchadin House is now getting very weak in offspring and
offshoots. The tree is but poorly shaded by top and branches.
Don't you think the prophecy of Bain-tighearna Labhair is about
to be fulfilled?"
"You mean that a one-eyed white hor.se
will be able to take the whole House of Inchadinthat is the
people of that stock and their belongingsin a peat cart back
over Carn-droma?" "Yes."
"Well, but-that is not the end of
it. There must be a hope still for the Inchadin House, if
prophecy is to hold." Notice to quit.
"I have never heard but of the white horse prophecy." "Well,
here is another which might be supposed to apply to the late
good Marquis, but did not, as can be seen now :
"'Unless the surest fates must fail,
As soon as the branch becomes
the big tree, And Britain is troubled from sea to cea, When
prospects are blackest, a man will come, Wearing the myrtle of
Colin of Rome, Who will chase the aliens, And rally the
Fenians, And be a high chief of the Gael.'
"A man to rally
them and lead them is, for sure, what the Gael need most."
"Aye, and it is a comfort to hope well, even yet, about the House
of Inchadin, for it is one of the great Gaelic Houses, and we
have not many of them now."
"Well, our old Ridire has been a
real good and kind laird all his days."
"That he has, God be
his stay, and his bed be in Heaven ! What sort of youths are his
"As fine lads as ever stept on heather."
they speak the Gaelic?"
"Not much, I fear. You see they were
early sent to school in England, and they are now at the great
school of Oxford, like your own young laird."
Riabhach take the great school of Oxford ! Why should not the
great schools of Dunedin, Glasgow, Kilribhinn, and Aberdeen, do
for Scotchmen? The great school of Oxford makes foreigners of
our young nobles and lairds. It is the black sorrow to see them
rushing to the bad with the swiftness of the wind. But here come
Iain Og and other old friends."
The preceding conversation
passed between John the Soldier, from the Land of the Pines, and
Duncan Ban, a Glen fanner of good standing and green old age, at
the smith's Conversation Bench, which the extra-religious
people in their conclaves called the "Scorners' Seat." In good
weather this doubly named resting place, for the old men of the
neighbourhood, was a squared pine tree placed at the end of the
smithy, but for the convenience of the old scorners, with whom
he was hand and glove, Alastair, the smith, kept also a similar
bench indoors to which the carles could retire in bad weather.
The Conversation Bench Club always assembled on Saturday.
Alastair, or rather his wife, kept the little shop^ of the
place, and to the shop the bodaich wended their way from every
direction on the last day of the week to fill their snuff-horns
and spleuchans; and, after doing their shopping, the)-
adjourned to Conversation Bench for their gossip.
Duncan Ban was the first to arrive, and he found John the
Soldier waiting for the gathering. John was the smith's uncle,
but not a regular member of the smith's family. He had many
kinsfolk, and went a great deal back and forward among them all;
but his headquarters were with his sister, the smith's mother,
away over the hills.
John the Soldier had well earned his
pension from a grateful country by having manfully done his full
share of fighting in the war with Napoleon; and he was very
grateful to his country in return for the shilling a day, which,
as he could add and eke in different honest ways, made him
comfortably independent on retiring with medals and clasps from
Although usually a temperate man, and a
respectable member of society, this old warrior was at first
liable every time he went for his pension to get more or less
elevated drinking health and happiness to the reigning
sovereign, to-the Duke of Wellington, and his own heart-honoured
general, Thomas Graham of Balgowan, Lord Lyndoch, and "Hero of Barrosa." On the pension occasion immediately following the
accession of Queen Victoria, John the Soldier and Donald
the Sailorwho lost a leg and gained a pension at Trafalgarwent
dreadfully on the spree together. Donald had to drown immense
grief for the loss of the "Sailor King," and John, whose
chivalrous loyalty was called into exuberant activity by the
age and sex of the young girl now come to the throne, thought he
could never too often drink" Long life, happiness, and victory
to the bonnie young Queen." John's loud rejoicings gave the
mourning Donald some offence; but a quarrel was averted, and
good fellowship, cemented by the soldier cleverly discovering
that he also had cause to drown sorrow in whisky, and that " The
memory of the Duke of York, the soldiers' friend," would couple
nicely with "The memory of the Sailor King." On their return
home with what remained of their pensions after a whole week's
carousal, the veterans scandalised three parishes. They stopped
of course at every public-house, and their idea of refreshing
themselves was to go on drinking their favourite toasts until
they could not see each other. The publicans had great trouble
in getting them to move on at all. And when they took at last to
the road, John the Soldier sang Gaelic war songs, mostly of Jacobite tingea thing quite against his principles when
soberand Donald the Sailor, who was not a bit musical when in
possession of his faculties, tacked about taking latitudes and
longitudes on the highway, and croaking like a maniac frog some
long forgotten naval ballad in praise of a tight little English
ship that showed a clean pair of heels to the whole French
fleet, and "would bob to nothing on the sea." This outbreak,
however, was quite exceptional. Both soldier and sailor were
heartily ashamed of themselves, and resolved not to be so
overtaken again. But, knowing the weakness of human nature in
genera], and their own in particular, they took material
guarantees with them on next pension day in the persons of the
widowed sister of John the Soldier, and Donald's spinster one.
After a few trials of temptation, which were successfully
resisted, the widow and spinster were relieved from guard, and John and Donald recovered
self-control by refraining from exciting toasts and indulgence
in memorial griefs.
To return to Conversation Bench, the
first to join John the Soldier and Duncan Ban was Iain Og, whose
years were seventy-five, and who needed the help of a crutch on
account of his rheumatism. He did not come alone. To-day
Gilleasbuig Sgoilear accompanied him. Gilleas-buig was not a
regular member of the band of the scorners. He lived far away;
but he was often a casual visitor, and whenever he came the
sitting was a long one. After Iain Og and the casual visitor,
came the three Seanairean (grandfathers) of Craig-Helig, hale
and hearty old men for their years, and all regular members of
the club, and far better listeners than speakers. Rob Macarthur,
with black fingers and nails after six weeks of smearing,
followed on the trail of the Seanairean. Lastly came Calum Mac-calum,
a brisk well-preserved bachelor of sixty-five, who, with his old
sister, Meg, to keep house to him, was now leading an easy life
on the annual income derived from the savings of fifty years of
work and thrift.
As soon as the many warm greetings were
exchanged, and Calum, the last of the comers, got settled, Iain
Og produced a silver-mounted snuff-horn, took his own allowance
of the pungent contents, and then passed the horn on to his next
neighbour for a round of social pinches.
"My eyes deceive
me, Iain, or that is your Sunday horn you have passed to John
the Soldier. For sure, after sneezing Sunday, it is I who will
be afraid to touch it."
And Calum, who was the speaker,
laughed heartily, and the laugh went round as well as the horn.
Duncan Ban"John the Soldier has not heard the story. Iain Og,
you must tell it as the responsible person,. and the owner of
the bewitched horn, which played as bad a trick as any performed
by that enchanted Balquhidder horn, which the invisible ghost in
the shepherd's house used for a weapon."
Calum"Yes, Iain, do tell it. Ach, but it was sore good,
ho ! ho ! ho !"
Seanairean in a chorus" It was sore good, ho
! ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! ha !"
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