Turning now from the east side of the loch to its west, from what might be called its Montrose side to its Colquhoun side, we have in close succession not far off the splendid mansion houses of Cameron, Auchendennan, Auchenheglish, and Arden. Immediately above Arden is Glen Fruin (the Glen of Sorrow), coming down from near Garelochhead. It has the ruins of an ancient castle of the Colquhouns, and it was here that a fierce conflict took place between the Macgregors and the Colquhouns in 1602, when the latter were routed with a loss of 200 men, the Macgregors only losing two, one of them, however, being John, the brother of the chief. It is this battle which is popularly called “The Field of Lennox.” It is said that the Macgregors also put to death in cold blood some 80 youths, popularly called “the Students of Dumbarton,” who had gone out to see the fight. A short time before this Sir A. Colquhoun had appeared before James the Sixth at Stirling, and complained of the cruel murders committed by the Macgregors, and to give emphasis to his complaint he was attended by a considerable number of women who carried the bloody shirts of their husbands and sons. The king gave him a commission to repress the crimes and apprehend their perpetrators, and the battle of Glen Fruin was the result. And this in its turn led to the king issuing letters of fire and sword against the Clan Gregor, to the confiscation of their lands. Their clan name was proscribed by Act of the Privy Council. But the Acts passed against them were repealed in 1775. Till then, however, the members of the clan usually took the name of various landed proprietors. Thus, the famous Rob Roy, who died in 1736, was Campbell, after the family name of his patron, the Duke of Argyll.
Not far up the glen from Arden there is the hill of Dunfion, which is said to have been at one time the residence of Fingal, and traces of a fortress said to have been built by him are still pointed out. Two and a-half miles farther up you can see Ross Dhu (the black promontory), on which is the tower of the ancient castle of the Luss family, and their mausoleum near it; the mansion-house standing on a promontory almost surrounded by water.
Taking one more soul-filling look up to the mighty Ben, on the side of the loch, and to the hills at its head, chief among which, and closing the distant vista, is Ben Voirlich, it is perhaps time to think of the train, for yonder is the “Queen” coming down the loch. As you begin to retrace your steps do not forget that standing on this hill you can see Renton, where Smollett the historian was born; Killearn, where George Buchanan first saw the light of day; and Garlios, the birthplace of Napier, the inventor of logarithms—all of whom added a new lustre to the literature and science of Scotland. Also take a peep at Tillichewan in its sylvan beauty, and the gentle slopes of the hillside forming such a picturesque background to it. And in recrossing the bridge it will help you to pay your second halfpenny with more complacency if you remember that possibly before the creation of man this valley was covered with the dashing waves of the Atlantic and German Oceans. For at that far back period all Scotland was under water except its highest peaks, which would then be like so many islands in one great sea. Down the stream a little way is Alexandria, suggestive of the lost Cleopatra’s Needle in the past and British influence in the present. And it may surprise you to learn that this grand mouth-filling name is one of recent date comparatively, and that its former title was of a more homely kind—namely, “The Grocery,” from a store which formerly kept the indispensable articles shadowed forth in that word of unclassical derivation. As you pass it directly in the train you see it to be now a large and prosperous place, which requires more than one “Grocery”—a place
Where cloth’s printed, dyed, and steamed,
Bleached, tentered, in the water streamed,
Starched, mangled, calender’d, and beamed,
And folded very carefully.
You reach Glasgow five hours after leaving the hill, with many pleasant recollections of your trip to Mount Misery.