Ardtaraig

watchers found that he would awake no more. There was a large funeral, and he was buried with his fathers in Kilmun Churchyard. In August 1892 I visited that lovely spot, Kilmun being a pretty little village on the shore of the Holy Loch, encircled by the most exquisite scenery. The graveyard surrounds the old church, and the grave itself is sadly dilapidated. It lies on the side of the church nearest the village, and the graves in that quarter are very old; many coats of armour and other emblems are there, mostly half obliterated, but those of the Campbells seem to muster largely. The flat stone over Gran’s grave is broken in two, and is partly sunk in the soil. His father’s name, Duncan, is still legible, and the words “Campbell Ballochyle,” carved at the foot, were, when I saw them, quite easily read. For a Highland burying-place it was fairly well kept. What man had failed to do, Nature had abundantly supplied; for everywhere, above and kindred, of God’s wondrous goodness in Providence, that it really passes words to express it! And there are things which, as Christians, we ought openly to declare. The old Scottish saints counted this a duty, and, if I mistake not, called it “lifting up their testimony.” We ought certainly in gratitude and deep humility to show forth God’s loving-kindness, not only for the good of our own souls, but that “some shipwrecked brother, seeing, might take heart again.” As an instance, I have to think of my mother in her sad strait, and of my father raised up by God’s mercy to deliver her! It was only of a piece with all the rest, for even after grandpapa’s money losses, through the treachery and dishonesty of a man in whom he had placed implicit confidence and who basely deceived him, the family were truly borne along as by an Unseen Power. Trial and loss seemed inevitable; earthly treasure was not to be their portion; yet “the manna fell,” and was never lacking.
I have already recorded how mamma, as a girl, behaved matrimonially; and now, as a widow of ten years’ standing, the same spirit again showed itself. She refused my father, not once only, but several times; and it was in the face of his proffered love that she broke up her house, and retired to her early home. Fortunately, however, for them both, the outstanding features in my father’s character, after his honesty, were his pluck and determination. Here let me say that Cousin Colin Brown, then a youth of eighteen or so, proved himself indeed a blessing to the ardent lover, and afforded him the most valuable assist¬ance. Colin was in request on all occasions, as shown by a journal which papa kept at that time. Papa had evidently visited Ardtarig, both before and after the break-up of my mother’s house in Glasgow, but it was in the great city the couple had first met, and it is easily to be gathered that the attraction had been mutual to a certain extent, but that mamma seriously contemplated matrimony is doubtful, and many of her actions go to show that she did not. This proves that she was very far from being worldly-minded or calculating, because she deliberately set up barriers between herself and what would secure, for her and for her boy, a home and an independence. On papa’s side, also, there was a remarkable absence of what might be called prudence, by some, and doubtless many men would have hesitated, even in the face of the strongest affection, to take on themselves the difficulties of such a position. But my father was not given to hesitation; least of all, did he flinch at this most critical period of his life.
The decisive point came at last, and that was, I believe, one notable occasion when he and the friendly Colin arranged to pay Ardtarig a surprise visit. The day fixed turned out a stormy one; and by the time they reached Dunoon, the weather had become very tempestuous; so much so, indeed, that when they tried to hire a conveyance, no stable- keeper in the place would give them one, each and all declaring that “it was not a night for beast or body to be out.” Colin, being perfectly heart-whole, and consequently in a sane and reasonable state of mind, sensibly proposed going to the inn for the night, and starting fresh in the morning. He soon found he had not gauged his companion’s mental condition. Papa utterly scouted the, suggestion, and Colin must have been rather aghast when his friend boldly announced his determination to start at once, and go the intervening ten miles on foot. “Well,” said papa, “if you won’t go, I go alone.” “Oh,” said Colin, “if it comes to that, I am ready!” Before they had proceeded far on their way their boots were reduced to pulp, so they took them off and hung them