Ardtaraig

Dergachy are unknown to me; doubtless they have fallen into decay and been demolished long ago. One large house near Kilmun I remember mamma pointing out to me and speaking of, but I was too young to understand. I have seen a sketch of what I supposed to be the old house of Dergachy, and think the picture must be in existence somewhere, but the house itself was pulled down long ago.
The Scottish Highlands, as a whole, have undergone tremendous changes during the last two hundred years; few records have been kept; no doubt the decadence has been discouraging, and the temper of the people, indolent and dreamy, has not admitted of depressing details being recorded. I feel this when I look around for facts. Song and legend are not wanting; pibroch and lament seem to sound among the heathery crags; but the spirit which lit up the war-like fire, and made the Celt what he was born to be – a man of war, a creature of passion and impulse, with a heart of gold for those he loved – has been sadly quelled, but not extinguished. Oh no! Only put, as it were, to sleep, under conditions foreign to its growth. It may live again, – who can tell? But to a simple historian like myself, the task of telling my tale is sometimes not an easy one, especially when dealing with the distant past.
The boy Duncan, our great-grandfather in due time, as I have already said, married his cousin Susan of Dergachy, and had issue, four children, two sons and two daughters. George, our own dear old “Gran”; Daniel, who never married, and was killed in action at the taking of Martinique in 1794; Violet, married to Baron MacLachlan of Stranhuillain; and Elizabeth, married to Lachlan Campbell, Esq. of Kildalvin. George, our grandfather, was born at Dergachy in 1756. In one record it is said that he was born at Corarsk, but I, of course, not knowing, cannot tell which is correct; nor, I suppose, does it matter much even to the most enthusiastic student of the present record. He was baptised by a certain George Wishart, then resident at Hafton on the Holy Loch, son-in-law, or else father-in-law, of General Beckwith, and was named George, after the said George Wishart. The boy grew up vigorous and healthy among the heathery hills of Cowal, where, in time, he took an honoured place, and lived his long, though somewhat uneventful life. In those days there was little outlet for the younger sons of good families other than the Army, the Navy, the learned professions, and farming. Trade, as they understood it, was hateful; so there was but little choice. George took to farming, while his brother Daniel went into the Army.
George was not ambitious; he was a reading man, a thinking man, and a quiet life suited him. His social position was an assured one, and as a gentleman farmer, he by his personal gifts and graces not only held his own, but “magnified his office.” True it is and of verity, that he was received as somebody by everybody, including the entire district of Cowal and all the magnates thereof, who also gave him and his the right hand of fellowship all round. True it is also (and I for one appreciate this in a very special degree), that he must have been generally regarded as a man of more than ordinary good sense and sagacity, his advice being sought on all hands, and private matters of the most delicate kind confided to his keeping. I had good proof of this in going over sundry old papers with one of my aunts, when certain documents, yellow with age, fell into our hands. The mass of the papers was destroyed, but a few unimportant ones I kept.
In Scotland the “lairds,” which name simply meant owners of the land, or county gentry, were often familiarly called by the name of their property. Thus in mamma’s girlhood quite a number of influential families were settled in the district, and known as Ormidales, Glendaruels, Ardlamonts, Ballochyles, Southhalls, etc. – the latter being the largest and most finely situated of all the estates. Nowadays, the descendants of these families, with the exception of Southhall, are all absentees, or non-residents on their estates, people who seem to care little about their ancestral homes, and visit them but seldom. Colonel Campbell of Southall, one of the last of the old régime, died over a year ago. He had retained kindly recollections of my grandfather, and of the warm friendship existing between him and his (Colonel Campbell’s) father. In conversation, not long before his death, with Mr. S. Greig, W.S., Edinburgh, he gave his testimony to Gran’s being one of the handsomest men in the county, and the most popular, and also said many kind things which Mr. Greig was careful to tell me. Grandmamma and her daughters were frequent guests at the hospitable mansions, and many pleasant recollections mamma had of them all.