sheep, and goats, were the chief source of wealth, a composition in cattle, sheep, or goats, was the mode of compensation for injuries of any kind or degree, and these tribunals generally determined the amount of compensation according to the nature of the injury, and the ranks and means of the parties. Such compensations were called eirig, fine, forfeit. Besides this, every chief held a court, in which he decided all disputes occurring among his own clansman. He always resided amongst them, knew them personally, and all disputes were settled by his decision. The prosperity or poverty of his tenants depended upon his proper or improper decision, and treatment of them. These tenants followed him in war, attended him in his hunting excursions, supplied his table with the produce of their farms, rent being paid in kind, and they assembled to reap his corn and to prepare and bring home his fuel. They looked up to him as their adviser and protector. The cadets of his family, respected, in proportion to the proximity of the relationship in which they stood to him, because sub-chiefs or chieftains scattered over different portions of his domains, holding their lands and properties of him, with a sort of subordinate jurisdiction over a portion of his people, as justices of the peace, and they were ever ready to afford him their advice or assistance in all emergencies, thus forming a strong and useful tie between chief and people. (To be concluded). GATHERING OF HIGHLAND CHIEFS AT AROS CASTLE. HE beginning of the seventeenth century was a troublesome time in the Western Isles. Plot followed plot, and feud succeeded feud, among the Highland clans. King James thought he would step in, exercise his authority, and produce order from the existing chaos. This was easier said than done. Argyll obtained from James in 1607, all those lands in Kintyre and Jura which had shortly before been forfeited by Angus Macdonald of Islay. The conditions on which Argyll got possession were not such as would tend to produce peace. One of the conditions was that he would not let those lands to any persons of the name of Macdonald or Maclean-two formidable clans. Next year, the King sought to carry out his intention of exercising his power over these lawless clansmen by appointing Andrew Stewart, Lord Ochiltree, lieutenant over the Isles, with Andrew Knox, Bishop of the Isles, and a few others, as a council to assist him. Lord Ochiltree, with a small fleet and army under his command, visited the Western Isles in August, 1608. He first visited Islay, where Angus Macdonald handed over to him Duny vaig Castle and the fort of Lochgorme. Leaving Islay he proceeded to Duart Castle, Mull, which Hector Og Maclean surrendered. From Duart he proceeded to Aros Castle, another Maclean stronghold, where he held a court. Among those who attended were Angus MacDonald of Islay, Macdonald of Sleat, the Captain of Clanranald, Rory Mor Macleod, Hector Og of Duart, Maclean of Ardnacross, Allan Maclean, tutor of Ardgour, and one or two others. Finding Angus Macdonald of Islay agreeable to the conditions imposed, he was allowed to return home. The other chiefs not being quite so pliable, Ochiltree, by the advice of his chief councillor, Andrew Knox, Bishop of the Isles, invited them to hear a sermon preached by the Bishop on board the "Moon." Rory Mor Macleod was the only one who could not be coaxed to the sermon. After the sermon, which may have been dry, Lord Ochiltree had no great difficulty in prevailing on them to dine with him. It When dinner was over the host told his astonished guests that they were now his prisoners by the King's order, and weighing anchor, he sailed direct to Ayr, whence he shortly proceeded with his prisoners to Edinburgh. Some of them were confined in Dumbarton, some in Stirling, and others in Blackness. would appear as if the Bishop did not feel quite at ease on account of the part he took in the kidnapping of those chiefs, for in a letter sent to James VI. he says, "My credeit amangis thir folkis be the forme of this last actioun praetischit amangis thame, somewhat (as apperis) deminischit, that it mycht pleas your Majestie to oppoynt some uther of yonger aige, gritter curage, bettir discretioun and credeit in thois cuntries," etc. The imprisonment of so many chiefs, together with the destruction of galleys and other vessels, afforded the King an excellent opportunity to carry out his cherished projects in the Isles, and it was the following year that the famous "Statutes of Icolmkill were enacted. EACHUNN. CLAN MACLEAN IN LONDON.-A most successful gathering of the Clan Maclean was held this month in London at the invitation of Mr. Hector A. C. Maclean of Coll, the local Secretary. The Chief, Col. Sir Fitzroy D. Maclean, Bart., C.B., and Lady Maclean, were present, and also Mr. Neil Maclean of Breda, president of the society, Dr. Ewen J. Maclean, Mr. James G. Maclean, and other leading clansmen and clanswomen. Addresses were delivered by the chief, the president, and the host of the evening, and it was agreed that such meetings were conducive to the welfare of the society and the benefit of the individual members. A CHILD OF THE HEATHER. HE scent of the sun-warmed heather filled the air. Cruachan's twin peaks looked up to a blazing sun, and the heat haze was everywhere. A girl was filling a basket with crotal, which she was gathering from some rocks on the hillside. She paused, and brushed the tangled curls from her brow. It was warm work on a day like this, but her basket was nearly full now. There would be enough in it to dye the wool, which would be spun and woven into a gown for her mother. A little breeze had sprung up and the girl threw herself down amongst the deep heather for a moment's rest before turning homewards. She leant her head against a stone, and sighed contentedly. The blue waters of the loch reflected every fleecy cloud that floated across the sky, and the bees sang drowsily amongst the heather. The girl's eyelids drooped, and the song of the bees sounded fainter and fainter. The sun kissed her brown cheeks, but she did not heed him. It was not till a covey of grouse rose with a loud whirr that she started up. Surely she had been sleeping! But what was that? Men's voices speaking quite near her. She leant on her elbow and listened. They were at the other side of the boulders from where she lay. She could hear what they said and her face grew pale. They were a party of Macdonalds planning a march on Inveraray in the night. The thatched roofs would be as dry as tinder with the recent heat, and would burn easily, they said. The town would be in a blaze before the folk knew an enemy was in their midst. What would Mac Cailein Mòr say then, when he looked upon the blackened ruins, and saw his people homeless? Their coarse laughter made the girl shiver in the sunshine. Then she heard they were an advance party on their way to Glen Aray, where they were to await the others before advancing on the town. Oh what could she do? If she had only been a man! If her brother Rory had been at home, but he had left the day before to sell some sheep and had not returned yet, and there was no one to send to warn them. At length the men rose to go, and the girl lay deeper in the heather till they went further down the hill and disappeared in the wood. The girl sprang to her feet, lifted her basket, and sped round the shoulder of the hill to the cottage where her mother sat waiting for her. Morag, you have been long," said the woman, who was sitting at her spinning wheel. "What has kept you? It must be late, the sun has gone from the window." 66 "The day was warm, mother, and I sat down to rest and fell asleep. Have you wearied?” "Aye, have I, Morag, I thought something had come over you," said the woman, turning her sightless eyes towards the girl. It was well she did not see Morag's face, or she would have known there was something wrong. A sudden thought had struck Morag before she entered the cottage, and she made up her mind to say nothing to her mother of what she had heard on the hillside. Her heart was beating furiously, but she kept calm before her mother. prepared their simple meal, and when they had finished, put away the dishes quietly and tidily as usual. This done, she sat down and talked She to the blind woman of what she would do on the morrow, and wondered if Rory would be back and if he would get a good price for his sheep. Presently a knock came to the door, and Morag rose and opened it. Her breath came faster when she saw who it was, but she made no sign. It was a lad she had seen with the Macdonalds an hour or two ago. He looked pale and haggard and asked for some milk. He had come a long way and had further to go. Well Morag knew he had further to go and on what errand, but she could not refuse him common hospitality without exciting suspicion. "Come in," she said, and pushed forward a wooden stool. He sat down as if he was weary, and wiped away with the back of his hand the blood which was slowly trickling from a sword cut on his brow. Morag brought him the milk and he drank it greedily, then rose to go. "Will ye no rest awhile," said blind Seonaid, when she heard him rise. "I must go now, I have comrades waiting for me further along the road," he answered, again wiping away the blood that oozed into his eyes. Morag's heart softened towards the lad, he was evidently weak from loss of blood, and he was so young. Taking a linen cloth from the kist in the corner, she bade him sit down, and she washed the wound and bound it firmly with the rag. He rose again, and bidding Seonaid good-day, went towards the door. As Morag held it open for him, he looked at her with grateful eyes and, seizing her hand, muttered "beannachd leat," and disappeared among the trees. Morag had happed her mother in the box-bed, and was putting things in order for the night. Moving about softly, she glanced ever and anon towards the bed, and then saw with satisfaction the woman had fallen asleep. She was a heavy sleeper and rarely wakened in the night. The time had come at last. If she left now, there would be time to get to Inveraray before the Macdonalds. She would go to her cousin who lived at the quay, and he would give the alarm. She would take the short cut over the hills. She knew the way and it was a clear starry night. Wrapping her plaid round her, and taking a farewell look at the woman in the bed, she lifted the sneck and passed out into the night. When she reached the top of the hill, she stopped and looked back. The loch lay cold and glistening at the foot of the hill, and she fancied she could almost see the cottage where her mother was sleeping peacefully. She had not dared to tell her of the night journey on which she was going. Seonaid would never have given her consent, for Morag was the calf of her heart, and she knew the dangers which might befall the girl. Morag drew her plaid closer round her. She had a long way to go, and the night wind made her shiver as it blew cold across the hills, but she never flinched. Her one thought was to reach Inveraray in time, and to be home again by the morning. On she went, stumbling over the rough ground; through fragrant bog myrtle which caught her skirts as if warning her to turn back; through deep heather that came up to her knees. Then she would sink ankle deep in the slimy, treacherous bog, that stretched over every hollow; still on past à ruined shieling and a solitary clump of trees. She started as an owl hooted and flew past her in search of prey. At last she found herself in Glen Aray, and was now only a mile from the town. She hurried on. She would soon be there and the town would be saved. But what was that? She stopped and listened, her ears strained to catch every sound. She heard the cracking of dry twigs under heavy footsteps, and dark forms confronted her, as they came out from amongst the trees. They were the Macdonalds, whom she had seen in the afternoon. face. "Ay, ay, and what errand might ye be going, my white love?" said one of the men, grasping her firmly by the wrist and peering into her "It is a strange time to be on the road. It is to Inveraray ye'll be going, I'm thinking?" Morag tried to shake herself free, but the man only tightened his grasp on her arm till the blood throbbed in her veins. "Let the lass go," said another of the men. "What harm can she do, and we will have more to do before the sun rises, than fool with women. A roar of laughter greeted this speech. Angus is itching to be at the throat of Mac Cailein Mor himself," said the man who had spoken first and who had still a firm hold of Morag. "Well, well," he said to the girl, "for fear ye should lose ye're road, we will put you safe in the wood here, and will come back for a sight of your bonnie face ere the sun sets to morrow. Morag listened as if in a dream. What were they going to do? She was powerless amongst these men. They took her into the wood and bound her to a tree, then left her. Morag's thoughts turned back to the little cottage by the loch side. Would she never see her mother again? Then she pictured the woman's anguish when she awoke and missed her. Her brain was in a whirl, and she strained at the cords that bound her, but it was of no use. It only made them cut deeper. She daren't scream, no friend could hear her, and it might bring the men back. She must wait and suffer the agony of suspense, and the town was doomed now. She could see the Macdonalds stealthily entering the town, firing every home with blazing torches, and she saw men, women, and wailing children pouring out of the houses, half clad and terror-stricken. Oh! it was cruel, and she might have saved them. Suddenly footsteps came hurriedly through the bushes. The next minute some one was cutting Morag's bonds. She was free! "Go quickly," said a voice she had heard somewhere before, "they wont be back for a while yet." Then the figure melted into the darkness, but not before Morag had recognized the face of the lad whose wound she had bound. Morag's feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground, as she flew on. She felt a breath of salt air as she neared the town, and it gave her fresh energy. The dawn was breaking as she reached her cousin's house on the quay. The door was opened to her repeated knocking, and Morag stumbled in breathless and worn out. Soon she had told her story, and her cousin Donald Dubh, had sounded the warning. Every man who could wield a broadsword had turned out, and within an hour they were on their way to meet the enemy. The Macdonalds were soon driven back after a short fight, and the town was saved. That evening when the sun was setting, and sending golden shafts of light amongst the trees in Glen Aray, a straggling ray fell upon the Idead face of one of the Macdonalds. He was only a lad and had his head bound with a white cloth. ANNA NIC DHAIBHIDH. THE REAY CHARTER CHESTS.-Members of the Clan Mackay and others interested in the history of Sutherland, will be pleased to learn that the papers of the Lords of Reay, which have disappeared since the estates were sold by Eric, Lord Reay, have now been found, and are being carefully gone over by a literary clansman with a view to publication. They prove to be of the greatest value, and consist of charters, wadsets, sasines, marriage settlements, contracts, wills, rent rolls, etc., as well as the MS. of a history of the Clan Mackay, which has never been published. To-day we received an intimation that another box of Reay papers had been found, and it is possible that the fine old family portraits which were removed from Tongue House, may also be traced. ATHOL. TO CORRESPONDENTS. All Communications, on literary and business matters, should be addressed to the Editor, Mr. JOHN MACKAY, 1 Blythswood Drive, Glasgow. Our next issue completes Volume 8 of the CELTIC, and October number commences the new Volume. The Annual Subscriptions are now due, and as we are desirous of completing the list of subscribers for the next year as soon as possible, our readers will greatly favour us by sending their annual contribution (48. post free) at their earliest convenience to John Mackay, Celtic Monthly Office, 1 Blythswood Drive, Glasgow. BOUND COPIES OF VOLUME VIII.-We will be only able to offer a few copies of the bound volume for sale, as several parts are nearly out of print. A nicely bound copy of the complete volume can be had, in green cloth, gilt title, for 6/6 post free. It will make a very handsome book, suitable for a present, or to send to a Highland friend abroad. As the number of copies available is so small, readers should apply at once. We have also in stock a few copies of volumes 6 and 7, bound uniform with volume 8, which can be had for 6/6 each, post free. Apply Celtic Monthly Office, 1 Blythswood Drive, Glasgow. THE MACCORQUODALES.-A correspondent in New Zealand sends us the following queries. Can any of our readers oblige him?-"MacCorquodales, 1, Highland appellation or designation; 2, present chief; 3, origin, 4, tartan; 5, coat of arms; 6, crest; 7, badge; 8, motto; 9, tune; 10, slogan; 11, clan to which affiliated; 12, septs or dependents; 13, English equivalents; 14, lands or territory, past or present; 15, could you name any documents, books, or libraries, etc., where such information could likely be obtained."-Yours obediently, ALEXANDER MACKENZIE. MESSRS. MCVITIE & PRICE have just added to their Summer List of Novelties two new varieties of afternoon tea cakes, the Romney and Costa-Rica, which we have sampled and find very pleasant. AND of ben and misty corry, Sunny braes, and woodlands cool; Where the Tummel and the Garry Foaming rush from pool to pool. Where the lofty grey Scheallion Its eternal watches keep O'er the homes of stalwart clansmen, And the graves where heroes sleep. Oft the hunter's bugle sounded In thy corries far and drear, When the antlered herds surrounded Were for monarch's sport brought near. Oft the fiery-cross went speeding O'er thy heather, moss, and crag, And the warlike slogan ringing In thy dales has scared the stag. With his champions of Clan Chattan From thine olden clachans rose, Gathered round the good Montrose. And Lochiel and stalwart Appin Have as victors trod thy lea, And thine own devoted clansmen Raised their banners to the breeze; When the "Gathering" of Clan Murray Over field and forest rang, And the tartan of Clan Dhonnachaidh Valiant sons of valiant fathers, For their king and kindred's weal. Still sends heroes to the field, And the symbols on their shield. |