Lochiel and his piper were passing Gormshuil's house at Moy, and she sat by her door crooning a song, and with the familiarity of the times she asked where he was going. Lochiel resented her speech by asking what it could matter to her where he was going. Her reply was “'S minic nach bu mhisde iasgair no sealgair mo bheannachd agus co dh'an duraichdinn e coltach ri m' cheannfeadhna”-“Ofttimes a fisherman or a hunter were none the worse for my blessing, and to whom would I wish it so heartily as to iny chief?” Locbiel then told her of the message he got from the Earl of Athole, and she advised him to return and take a contingent of his men and to hide them in the heather when nearing his trysting-place with the Earl of Athole, and to appear before him only with his piper as originally arranged, and that he was to have an understanding with his men that they were to rush to him if they saw him turning the scarlet lining of his cloak outside. Lochiel saw the wisdom of her counsel, and he did as she suggested.

He met the Earl of Athole, who was unreasonable about the boundaries, believing that Lochiel's person was at his mercy. So when they could not come to terms, the Earl blew a silver whistle he had, and immediately a number of armed Athole men sprung from heath and copse. “Who are those?" asked Lochiel. “These are the Athole sheep coming to eat the Lochaber grass,” replied the Earl. “Seid suas," said Lochiel to his piper, whilst he turned out the scarlet lining of his cloak. The Lochaber men jumped up from their hiding places, and the Earl asked who those were. “ They are the Lochaber dogs going to chase the Athole sheep from the Lochaber grass,” replied Lochiel, and forth with the piper blew up the tune that has been the gathering of the Camerons until this day, “Thigibh an so, a chlannabh nan con, 's gheith sibh feòil.” Gormshuil's counsel saved her chief, and he called at her cot on his return home to thank her and to promise her any favour she would seek from him at any time. The piper stood on the road, and played the new tune, and Gormshuil told her chief how glad she was that he had been delivered from the Duke of Athole's deceitful plans. “Yet,” she added, “in spite of all your promises of kindness to me you will one day hang my son.” “Never,” said Lochiel, “ you have only to come to me, and remind me of this day, and even if your son deserved hanging, he will be saved for your sake.” I need not record here the part that Gormshuil was said to take in the sinking of the Florida in Tobermory Bay, as it has been given by Dr Norman Macleod in “ The reminiscences of a Highland Parish," but the tradition in Lochaber gives the following account of her death :

In the course of years one of her sons and the son of a neighbour were out together on the hill, when the neighbour's son and another quarrelled, and without intention of murder he gave his man a blow that slew him. The young man who had done the deed expected to be put to death, and his mother, whose only child he was, was in sore distress. Gormshuil, recalling the promise given her by Lochiel, got her own son to take the blame, although he was quite innocent, and he did so, and was imprisoned in the dungeon, whose iron door stood in the face of Loch Airceig. Then Gormshuil set out to go to Achnacarry to crave the life of her son from the chief.

She got the length of a burn known in the district then as Allt Choille-ros, but known since then as Allt Gormshuil or Allt a' Bhradain. When the hapless Gormshuil got to that burn she saw a salmon in a small pool, and thought it could easily be caught. She asked some persons on the road to help her, but they objected, and she went alone. She went on her knees on the lower side of the pool, and at that moment the Beum-sléibhe or spate was in the stream, and it carried Gormshuil away into Loch Lochy, where she was drowned. Her son, who was innocent, was executed, for Lochiel did not know he was her son until it was too late.

The chief spoken of as being the one to whom Gormshuil gave the sage advice in connection with the interview with the Earl of Athole, is generally spoken of as Sir Ewen Cameron of Lochiel ; but the date of the sinking of the Florida declares Gormshuil to have lived at an earlier Jate, and the following song would indicate that it was in the time of Ailean Mac Iain Duibh, the grandfather of Sir Ewen, that Gormshuil lived in Moy. The following is a waulking song, a Glengarry witch and Gormshuil having met on a trial of individual power, to be demonstrated on the piece of cloth they tossed between them on the “ Cliath-luadhaidh," or “waulking wattle”:

Hi biù o ! sid gun cluinneam,
Hi hiu o! gar am faicean,
Hi hiu o! gar ar bithinn,
Hi hiu o ! beò ach seachduinn;
Hi hiu o ! creach an t-Sithein,
Hi hiu o ! creach an Lagain,
Hi hiu o! gu Coille-ros,
Hi hiu o ! bho Baile-Mac-Glasdair.

Hiro, haro, horo eile,
Hiro, hara, fuaim na cleithe.

Hi hiu o! mhollachd bo dhubh,
Hi hiu o! no bo ghuaillionn,
Hi hiu o ! eadar Ladaidh,
Hi hiu o ! 's Gairidh-ghuallach, ;
Hi hiu o! nach toir Ailean,
Hi hiu o ! donn air ruaig leis,
Hi hiu o ! co chuireadh tu,
Hi hiu o ! gan toirt uaithe.

Hiro, haro, horo eile,
Hiro, haro, fuaim na cleithe.

A Bhan-gharranach. Hi hiu o! cha ruigte leis, Hi hiu o ! an tilleadh dhachaidh, Hi hiu o! mhollachd bo dhubh, Hi hiu o! no bo chais-fhionn; Hi hiu o! a leigeadh na fir, Hi hiu o! mhora thaiceil, Hi hiu o ! le bodaich bheaga, Hi hiu o! Dhoch-an-fhasaidh, Hi hiu o ! saighead an suil, Hi hiu o ! nam fear lachdunn, Hi hiu o ! 's mnathan tuiridh, Hi hiu o! bualadh bhasan,

Hiro, haro, horo eile,

Hiro, haro, fuaim na cleithe.
Hi hiu o! gheibhte sud,
Hi hiu o! mu bhun Airceig,
Hi hiu o ! bodaich bheaga,
Hi hiu o! chroma chairtidh,
Hi hiu o! cuarain laoicinn,
Hi hiu o ! stocaidh chraicinn,
Hi hiu o ! breacain liath-ghlas,
Hi hiu o ! dronnag bhradach.

Hiro, haro, horo eile,
Hiro, haro, fuaim na cleithe.

Hi hiu o ! c'uime an dubhairt,
Hi hiu o ! 'chaile bhradach,
Hi hiu o! gun robh Ailean,
Hi hiu o! donn gun chaiseart,
Hi hiu o! cha ruig i leas e,

Hi hiu o ! bha iad aige ;
Hi hiu o ! brogan min-dubh,
Hi hiu o ! ciaraidh cairtidh,
Hi hiu o! stocaidh de 'n t-srol,
Hi hiu o ! dhearg mu 'chasan.

Hiro, haro, horo eile,

Hiro, haro, fuaim na cleithe,
Hi hiu o ! ruaig a' chaorain,
Hi hiu o ! leis an abhainn,
Hi hiu o ! 's a ghràn eorna,
Hi hiu o ! am bial na brathann ;
Hi hiu o ! air na tha beo,
Hi hiu o! a chinne d'athar,
Hi hiu o ! eadar chlann og,
Hi hiu o! 's mhnathan tighe,
Hi hiu o! 's Eilean Droighneachain,
Hi hiu o! 'bhi na lasair,
Hi hiu o! 's mar creid thu sud,
Hi hiu o ! seall a mach air.

Hiro, haro, horo eile,
Hiro, haru, fuaim na cleithe.

The Glengarry witch looked out, as she was asked to do, and her home was on fire. In the blaze of her wrath, she burst on the waulking wattle, and Gormshuil was triumphant. There are several of her descendants among the Mackinnons in the Lochaber district, but they do not like to be reminded of their most famous ancestress.

30th APRIL, 1890. The paper for this evening was contributed by Mr J. R. N. Macphail, advocate, Edinburgh, entitled “An interesting copy of a Report of the Trial of James Stewart of Acharn.” Mr Macphail's paper was as follows :


Everybody who has read “Kidnapped” must remember the killing of the Red Fox, Colin Campbell of Glenure, and how that objectionable youth, Mr David Balfour, and his friend, Alan Breck Stewart, very nearly came to grief in consequence. And it may

be remembered, too, that in his preface, or dedication, as he prefers to call it, Mr Robert Louis Stevenson speaks of “the printed trial" of James of the Glens. Authors now-a-days have rather a trick of referring the courteous reader to imaginary authorities in the shape of ancient manuscripts, archaic maps, and even engraved shards, in the hope that the story may, perchance, be thereby invested with an air of life and circumstantiality otherwise awanting. And so very possibly some may have fancied, that this reference to "the printed trial” is only such another literary jest. But they are in error, as anytody in Appin will tell you, for James of the Glens was a very real and a very ill-used man. His trial, and an impudent mockery it was, actually took place, and it is some notes suggested by a curious old copy of the report, or, as Mr Stevenson calls it, “the printed trial,” that Mr Mackay thought might be of interest to the Society. It would, however, be too much to assume that, though everybody ought to have read “Kidnapped,” everybody has actually done so, and, accordingly, a short preliminary sketch is probably desirable, and will certainly not be out of place.

In 1745, Dugald, 10th and last of the Stewart lairds of Appin, . was a child of tender years. Ardsheal, the oldest cadet of the bouse, was Tutor of Appin, and the clan to the number of between three and four hundred were out under him in that disastrous time. After Culloden, at which more than half of them were killed and wounded, the clan dispersed. Ardsheal, who had vainly attempted to make one more stand away in the west, was attainted, but, after many adventures, succeeded in escaping to France in the autumn of 1746. Meanwhile, according to the authors of “ The Stewarts of Appin,” the estate was confiscated and given up to plunder, and the malevolence of the English soldiery selected December as the most appropriate time for sacking Ardsheal House, and turning the Lady Ardsheal and her newly-born infant into the snow. After many hardships, she managed to join her husband in France, where they were followed by many tokens of the devoted and thoughtful affection of their people.

The management of the forfeited estates, and Ardsheal amongst them, was vested in the Court of Exchequer for Scotland, whose administration seems to have been, on the whole, fair and just. The Duke of Cumberland, it is true, was crying aloud for the extirpation of the whole native population, and, of course, found some backing amongst the baser politicians of the time. But his thirst for blood was not shared by the leading statesmen of the

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