clerks, and it is striking to find that name also given to one of the places granted by Macbeth and his wife Gruoch to the Culdees of Kinross from motives of piety and the benefit of their prayers, with the utmost veneration and devotion. Further on in the fold there is a place that commemorates the older form of religion. It is known as "Blar-Mac-Druighneach," the field of the son of the Druid. Macbeth and his wife are said to have placed the Culdees in Kinross between them and the sea, and they seem to have acted on that principle here also, for they gave the beautiful and fertile lands of Callart to the Culdees, who built a cell which they dedicated to St Mun, or St Munnu, and the island in Loch Leven, on which it was built, and on which its ruins still stand, is known yet as Eilean Mhunnu, the isle of St Mun. This island is the burying-ground of the Glencoe men as well as of the inhabitants of Nether-Lochaber.

We will now record some traditions of the Camerons of Callart and Lundavra; and, before proceeding, we may give the following in support of Dun-da-Raths being the ancient name of this place. In the Scots Acts of Parliament of 1502, vol. II., pp. 241, 249, we find King James IV. gave a grant of the life-rent of the royal forest of Mamore, and the castle on the island of Dun-davray, to one of the Stewarts of Appin. Early in the fifteenth century, John Cameron, Archbishop of Glasgow, granted the Church lands of Callart and the isle of St Mun to his young relative and godson, John, second son of Ailean nan Creach, Allan of the Forays, chief of Lochiel. The Archbishop was a great builder of churches, and it was through his influence that Allan of the Forays built the seven churches in the Highlands, which were attributed to the suggestion of the King of the Cats, in the "Tigh-ghairm," or house of invocation. The Archbishop changed the name of St Mun into St Mungo, after the patron saint of his own diocese, but the ancient name is still given to it.

The first offshoot of the Camerons of Callart was Alasdair Dubh of Cuilchenna, and the second was Allan, first of Lundavra.

The chieftains of Callart, like other Highland gentlemen, sent their sons to school in France. On one occasion two fine lads were sent there, the only legitimate children of the gentleman who was at that time the chieftain of Lundavra. There was unfortunately an illegitimate son at home, whose name was Angus, and in the absence of his brothers he had ingratiated himself so much with his father that he hoped by some means, fair or foul, he would one day be his successor.

At length a messenger came from Appin, saying that a ship would land the two sons of Callart on the following evening at Cuilchenna. Angus was sent off to receive the young gentlemen, and a jealous pang darkened his soul when he saw the joy of his father over the return of his boys. He went to meet them, but instead of conducting them safely home, he slew them, and buried them in a spot still known as "Glac-nam-marbh," "the hollow of the dead." The murder was discovered in the course of time, but the unhappy father was too lenient to punish Angus, and although he banished him from his presence he lived on the estate, as he had formerly done, with his family. The old chieftain died after some years passed, and then one of his nephews of Lundavra became his successor. The new chieftain left Augus and his family in peace on the estate, and the clansmen were anxious lest some judgment would fall upon the house because the innocent blood of the young men was crying in vain for vengeance. This new chieftain became the father of five sons and two daughters, the eldest being still known in Lochaber song and story, and is always spoken of as Mary of Callart. Mary was the most lovely girl in all the country, and was the favourite of rich and poor. She was a poetess, and had the prodigal liberality and the unwisdom of her kind. She helped her mother in housekeeping, and all who were in need went to her, as she could not. send any one away empty-handed. Her father frequently found fault with her, and one day, being more angry than usual, he turned her out of doors, and told her to go about and see what she would in her need get from those to whom she was so foolishly liberal. Mary wrapped herself in her tartan plaid and went away sorrowfully, for her mother and sister, as well as her brave boyish brothers, were weeping over the stern decree which they were powerless to contradict. Mary made up her mind to go up the Màm, and take refuge in the meantime in her uncle's house in Lundavra. She met a poor old woman on the top of the hill who was shivering of cold. Mary's compassion was drawn forth by her misery, and she at once made two halves of her plaid, giving the one half to the poor woman, who poured forth benedictions upon her fair young head. Mary was received kindly in Lundavra, and meantime the poor wandering woman had gone to Callart, and as Mary's plaid was recognised, it was feared that she had suffered foul play. The poor woman shewed them that she only wore half the plaid, and told how Mary had met her on the hill and given it to her as she was shivering of cold. There was great indignation among all the people when they knew that

Mary was banished from her father's house, and the stern chieftain himself began to yearn for the loving face of his most beautiful child, and he sent to Lundavra, and had her brought home.

A dark cloud was, however, hovering over Callart. A ship came in with dyes and having some richly embroidered garments. The lady of Callart bought largely of the dyes for her wool, and they also bought some of the gay garments. Alas! death was in the merchandise, and in a few days the plague broke out in Callart house. The chieftain and his wife died of it, and all their children but Mary, who attended to them night and day, but was not touched by the plague. She was in a dreadful position alone in the house with the dead. No person would come near her, and she did not dare to leave the house. A watch was set around the shores to see that no one would leave Callart.

Mary had a lover, young Patrick Campbell of Inverawe, or, as he is called in Gaelic story, "Oighre Mhic Dhonnacha Inbhiratha." A messenger went to him to tell how his beloved maiden with the golden hair was situated, and he at once went off with a boat and a few trusty men to deliver Mary from her awful position. Some of the men were afraid to venture, but he assured them that he would act so cautiously as to run no risk.

The brave men rowed silently past the watchers, who had fires lighted along the shore about the ferry at Ballachulish, and they were soon at Callart. Mary had a dim light in the chamber in which she had isolated herself from the dead. Surely there never was a case of the bride's rejoicing over the voice of the bridegroom more real and more earnest than the joy of Mary's heart when she heard her name called by her gallant lover. He got her out of the house, and made her bathe herself in the sea, and cast all her clothes into the water. He then gave her his own large, soft plaid, which she wound carefully around herself, and then he lifted her into the boat, and they rowed away with their treasure as silently as they came. After getting to Inverawe he built a bower for her in the woods, and got clothing for her from his sisters. He married her forthwith, and then they lived alone, apart from all his relatives and friends, for three months, until all agreed that the danger of infection was over. Further sorrow was in store for the hapless Mary, for her husband fell at the battle of Inverlochy, fighting against Montrose. Mary was broken-hearted over his death. We think he must have returned home wounded and died there, as in her lament she refers to his being buried behind her house, and we know the escape of the Campbells from Inverlochy was too precipitate for

their carrying any of their dead with them. After her husband's death, her father-in-law was very neglectful of Mary, and then he and others began to insist upon her marrying the prior of Ardchattan, who had proposed to her. Her heart was sore for the loss of him whom she so devotedly loved, and she was very unwilling to enter into this new bond, but they brought such force to bear upon her that she consented; and, according to the Lochaber version of her story, she composed the song of hers that is still known and sung, on the night of her marriage with the prior. She sang it to the maidens who attended her, and her soul floated away in her song, and she died that night. In her song, she first charges her father-in-law with coldness, and then through the rest of the pathetic verses she apostrophises her beloved Patrick. It runs thus:

A Mhic Dhonnachai' Inbhir-atha,

Is coimheach a ghabhas tu 'n rathad,
Ged tha Mairi Chamshron romhad,
'S og a chaill mi riut mo ghnothuch.

Fheudail a dh' fhearabh na dà-'lach,
Thug thu mach a tigh na plàigh mi,
Far an robh m' athair 's mo mhathair,
Mo phiuthar ghaoil 's mo choignear bhraithrean.

Fheudail a dh' fhearabh na greine,

Thog thu tigh dhomh an coill nan geugan,
Bu shunndach ann mo luidhe 's m' eiridh,

Cha b' ioghna sud b' ùr mo cheilidh.

Righ gur mise th' air mo sgaradh,
Bhi dol le fear eile 'luidhe,

Is m' fhear fhein air cùl an tighe,

Sealgair nan damh donn 's nan aighean.*

Before concluding this story, we may mention that the Camerons of Callart were satisfied that the plague was sent as a punishment for the deaths that were unavenged. A new chieftain came to Callart from the family of Lundavra, and the descendants of Angus--who were never called Camerons-were known as Clan Aonghuis, and in English they came to be known by the name of Innes.

There was no further break in the succession until the last of the Callarts sold the estate to Sir Ewen Cameron of Fassifern. On

*This song is unfortunately left incomplete owing to Mrs Mackellar's death.

the first morning that Sir Ewen's dairymaid went to milk the cows, in one of the Callart parks, she saw a little woman, with a handkerchief about her head, rocking herself to and fro, with a plaintive wail. She was sitting on the side of a burn, and looking furtively at the dairymaid, and as soon as she noticed herself observed she gave a loud piercing scream, and fled for ever. It was the "Bean-shith" that followed the old Callart family, and she was never seen there again. Our next story is of a more weird sort than that of Mary of Callart. It is the history of the famous Lochaber witch, "Gormshuil Mhor na Maighe," "The Great Gormshuil of Moy." Gormshuil was a common name among the Scotch and Irish Celts. It was the name of the wicked wife of Brian Boruimhe, who brought Jarl Sigurd and Brodir, the Viking, to fight against her husband at Clontarf, where he was slain. It was a common name among the Camerons until it fell into disrepute through this famous witch, and no child in Lochaber ever got the name again. The Camerons of Moy, known as 66 Teaghlach na Maighe," were said to be a branch of the Camerons of Callart. A young widow of the house of Callart had fled for protection to Lochiel at Tor Castle, with her two boys, Charles and Archibald. This Charles was the progenitor of the family of Moy, and the name of Charles has been common among them down through the ages. These Camerons had Wester Moy, whilst a family of the name of Mackinnon had Easter Moy. The ancestor of these Mackinnons had come from Skye, with a lady who married into the Lochiel family; and when he married he got a place called Ardnois, in the Giubhsach, or great fir forest at Loch-Airceag. Afterwards his family got Easter Moy; but to this day they are known in Lochaber as "Sliochd Iain Maidh na Giubhsaich." These Mackinnons frequently intermarried with the Camerons of Wester Moy. Among others, young Gormshuil Cameron became the wife of one of those Mackinnons. She was a strong, brave young woman, full of sagest wisdom, and very high-spirited, and she had no objection to be considered uncanny, as it gave her power over her fellow men. People shook their heads and said, "Tha tuille 's a paidir aig Gormshuil," hinting that she knew more than her Paternoster; but she heeded them not. The fisherman going forth to the river, or the hunter going to the hill, came for her blessing, and gave her of their spoils. One incident, in which her forethought and wisdom was of good service to her chief, made her famous in the annals of her clan. Lochiel was invited to meet the Earl of Athole to fix their boundaries, and he suggested that they should meet without any of their men, but each having his piper.