Ardtaraig

The Ballochyles were our relatives, and with them the intimacy was pretty close, the girls often paying them lengthy visits. The Ballochyle of that period was Colonel Alexander Campbell, a good-natured, easy-going man, whose children were not afraid to call “Alick,” in imitation of their mother – a curious anticipation of modern manners! At this time the family were living at a place called Dunloskin, near Dunoon, and were supposed, to be “economising,” but the head of the house managed about that time to get rid of £10,000 in three years! His son Willie, then quite a small boy, lived to become Ballochyle in his turn; was Deputy Lieutenant for the County of Argyll, and an officer in the Madras Army. During one of my mother’s visits, Willie’s mother whipped him severely – too severely, mamma thought – and, somewhat shocked, she retired to her bedroom. After some time she heard a tap, and on opening the door, behold, a good little boy, all traces of tears washed away, standing outside holding up a tiny garnet ring, “With mamma’s love, and would Cousin Bessie come down?” Mamma was touched, and preserved the little ring, which I have still. The daughters of this family were Mary and Vilette; Mary became Mrs Viberts, and Vilette, Mrs Burns.
But to return to grandpapa. I am wishful to hand down a faithful picture of him, so that such of his descendants as may care to know, may have at least some idea of what manner of man this was from whom they have sprung. I suppose that nowadays many people laugh at pedigree, especially those who have it not; nevertheless, it is being discussed by physiologists under another name, that of heredity, and few there are, I think, who will in the face of science assert that heredity counts for nothing. In my gleanings, from whatever source, grandpapa, as head of the family, stands out a noble figure. All testimonies agree as to his being tall, handsome, and, above all, courtly in his manner and bearing. He was usually very urbane, yet on occasion could be extremely haughty, and if really displeased would assume an aspect before which no culprit could stand. He was kind, hospitable, and generous to a fault. The country people said of him that he was a gentleman who would give “anything to anybody,” and in this he sometimes went too far. Like others of his race, he was a trifle indolent, and not easily roused. When it did so happen, however, he was, as I have said, capable of mighty wrath. As Ossian has it, “In peace he was the gale of spring, in war the mountain-storm.” He could be somewhat arbitrary, and would not, be driven an inch out of his way, – but in most small matters, rather than be troubled, he might good-naturedly give in. Humour of a quiet sort he had in plenty – they all had it. He was decidedly a man of books; a philosopher, too, in a way, so that a wet day in harvest, or even a succession of them, did not seriously disturb his equanimity. On such occasions he would quietly come indoors, hang up his hat, and settle down for a peaceful afternoon with some favourite book. Grandmamma, who, as will be seen, was of a very different temperament, greatly admired this sweet placidity. So also when care and anxiety pressed, he would sleep the sleep of the just, remarking that whenever recumbency came all worrying thoughts took flight! Thrice blessed spirit! what mattered it to him that after a long life of eighty-nine years, passed in the enjoyment of peace and plenty, he died comparatively a poor man. He had the best gifts that earth could give him, wealth excepted. And strange to say, neither he nor his ever knew personally what poverty meant. Having a quiet life, rich in the blessing of peace, he seemed content to let go the world and its allurements; certainly to this height he seems to have attained in the days that are here recorded.
His only brother predeceased him fifty-one years, having been killed in battle. I have two small silhouettes which were said to be of the two brothers; evidently in physique they were very unlike, so unlike, indeed, as to indicate a wide diversity in mind and character as well. Grandpapa’s sisters have been described to me as being, like himself, of a full and generous type, fair and ample. Violet, Mrs MacLachan, had a large family, including five pretty daughters, all of whom were married. One of these was Mrs Blair of Underwood, from whom are descended our cousins the Turnbulls; another was Mrs Campbell of Drimsynie, Garelochhead; and a third, Susan, married her cousin Ronald Campbell, Auchinbreck, son of a cadet of the family of Craignish, and was the mother of a remarkably long-lived family. She herself lived to the age of ninety; her daughter Violet and her son James to ninety-two and ninety-three respectively; and her younger son, General Alexander Campbell, to eighty-four ; while her daughter Mary is still living, and has now entered her ninety-ninth year -a lively old lady, possessed of