The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1885-12-16
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ouR FOREIGN LETTER.
The Scottish HighIands-A Visit to
FingaIl's Cave-Monks and Monas-
Acnkiac
Especial Correspondence Of the PRrss.l

Especial Correspondence of the PREss.l
oBAN.,
On the morning of Sept 4th, we were all
equipped for trip to Oban. Having given
an hours notice Of our intention to leave, we
entered the coffee room with keen appetites
for good breakfast of sole, by the way
very dainty fish, where was not the slightest
preparation for some twenty or more travel
lers going on the early trains. This is s 80.
This was all owing to the objectionable neg
lect to fee his majesty, the head waiter, the
| night previous. When the last signal sound
! ed, feeling faint and cross, we started for
long days journey. The steamer COLUMBIA
| sails from Glasgow, but to be sure of the
| breakfast we missed and to avoid the I'M
| pleasant odors from the river, we took the
| train, which meets it at Greenock. The sail
| from here is pleasant, passing various coun-
| try seats and thrifty villages on the banks,
| FL. M. S. fleet and many fine pleasure yachts
| in the stream, until we reach Fort Matilda,
where the view broadens and we feel the
swell Of the ocean. Excepting few ruined
castles, the scenery from this point onward
| looks so homelike that if we had been in
stantly transported from America, without
| guide books to tell us the strange names, we
would have supposed we were steaming in
| and out of the bays of our eastern coast of
| Maine. We soon see the historic Highlands
of Scotland, and stop at Tarbert, which in
former times had two points of interest, the
abundance of Loeb tyne herring for the
fisherman, and noble old ruin for the anti
quarian. Not far off is Rothesay, possessing
also castle, which is stock in trade for all
| these little fishing hamlets. Both of these
| places are to-day the summer resorts of the
| English gentry About noon we passed
| through the narrow Kyles of Butte to Adris-
| haig, where is the eastern entrance of the
Crinan canal This canal is nine miles long,
having fifteen locks, filled from a chain of
lakes 800 feet higher up in the Knapdale
hills. 1t has been opened for century; but
until twenty years ago the boats were
drawn by horses along the tow path. The
little steamer "Linnet'' makes the trip in an
hour to Crinan, where it is exchanged for
the fine excursion boat Chevalier. The
course now crosses Loeb Craignish and the
Straits of Jura, and soon enters the sound of
Ozark Null" where the grim hills cast deep
shadows, and as the gray clouds float off into
the blue distance we recall Ossian's descrip-
| tions of this weird scenery, in whose back
| ground rises the Grampian Hills, which re-
| vive memories of the little green schoolhouse
/ where as younger children we looked with
| admiratirn upon the big boys stalking up to
| the masters desk and declaiming in stunning
| tones and with telling gestures,
"My name is Norvel on the Grampian
Hills my father feeds his flock.'
n
drop a few passengers at Easdale,
peculiar fishing village, built on the sands
| and low reefs, at the base of a barren in
hospitable ledge. At shutdown we sighted
Dnnollie Castle, one of the prettiest ruins on
the coast. The ivy-clad donjon or keep, is
well preserved, while the moat and walls are
thickly matted with shrubbery and vines.
Near by is the Dogs Stone, a conglomerate
mass, where tradition tells us, Fingall used
to tie his famous dog Bran, No finer situa-
ton could be chosen for a summer residence
than that of Oban at the head of smooth
transparent bay, affording every facility for
boating and fishing, and surrounded by the
greatest variety of hill and dale We found
the alexandria" most comfortable home
for our stay until we had made full survey
of the neighboring country.
IONA AND sTAFFA.
Being told the CULTS and bays of the Heb
rides were laboratories where were brewed
the widest storms, we chose clear, calm
day to visit Fingall's Cave and make pill
grimage to "Holy Iona.'' We remembered
with what interest our fathers used to read
and re-read Ben Jonson's journeyings
through the wilds of the Hebrides and we
wished it had been their privilege to look
upon the fields he so crossed. Few readers
Of the past generation ever dreamed of seeing
with their own eyes these strange shores, and
book of travels impaired to them a sense
of companionship with the author in all his
experiences, and they would have been as
delighted as he to revisit the old haunts.
Sailing out of the bay to the west we en-
tered the sound of Null, where again the
slopes looked so familiar we did not wonder
the early Scotch settlers in new England
named their new home Nova Scotia. Quite
a number of the smaller islands, once covered
with farms and hamlets are, deserted, as the
entire population, Joining their ftFeges to-
gether have emigrated to America, One does
not realize until refreshing the memory with
the traditions, how much of early Scotch his
tory and legendary lore was located in this
region. 1t seems as if Sir Walter Scott had
immortalized every rock, rill and wooded
hill. We pass the home of the Campbells,
McLeods and McLeans, those fearless mas
tiers of the sea and tyrants upon the land.
Lady Rock is pointed out, where one of the
McLeans for some slight offence tied his
wife, hoping the coming tide would sweep
her away-butl this tragic tale has a happy
ending, that she was rescued by her brother.
We approach Tobermory, charming
little city by the sea-resting beneath the
shadow of Ben Tallah and Ben More, which |
makes picture much like Bar Harbor when |
seen from the approaching steamer. This
is one Of the twenty places we selected where |
to spend our next summer. In this bay the
FLORIDA" of the Inflated Armada was
sunk. The views change constantly from
old castles to new, and small islands on
whose steep sides were browsing the shaggy
Highland cattle, more beautiful in pictures
than profitable for the farmer; but most like
ly the only herd that can stand the bleak
winds of these northern chimes. AS there is
no quay or modern conyeniences to land,
the steamer dropped anchor off Staffa, and
waited for the life boats, manned by sturdy,
careful sailors, to take those who wished to
enter Fingall's Cave, the largest of six which |
penetrated into the very heart of the island
Often the high seas make it impossible to
manage the boats, or safe to stand ON the |
broken columns within.
The cave is of basaltic formation, and may |
have been formed by some violent upheaval, |
when the columns were broken off leaving |
an irregular cavern whose roof is hung with |
stalactites of soft and varied hues. As we |
approach, the mouth makes perfect Nor
man arch, and may have suggested to the |
early builders, who must have often coasted
in these waters, that form of architecture.
The depth from the entrance to the rear is
over two hundred feet, and the height at low
tide about sixty, reaching within thirty feet of
the surface of the island. Wewere much i'm
pressed with the strange experience of row.