CHAPTER XI 



HIGHLAND MEMORIES 



IT is a long time since I went to school, but, to the best of my 

 recollection, a peninsula is a piece of land almost surrounded by 

 water. If my memory is at fault, and my geographical know- 

 ledge unsatisfactory, I must crave the reader's indulgence. 

 Howbeit, I am now holidaying upon a peninsula in the Western 

 Highlands of Scotland. 



The county in which I now find anchorage is Dunbartonshire. 

 Most of the time-tables and guide-books will tell you it is Dum- 

 bartonshire, but that is an incorrect spelling, and the milestones 

 alone seem to render the shire's name correctly. Dunbarton, 

 as a matter of fact, is derived from the Gaelic, " dun Bretann," 

 meaning " the Briton's Fort." The remarkably pretty little 

 resort at which I am staying is known as Clynder, which comes 

 from the Gaelic words " cluain dur," and which, being translated, 

 means " Meadow on the Water." In view of the fact that this 

 (1913) is one of the driest Summers within living memory in this 

 part of Scotland, the " Meadow on the Water " is somewhat 

 misapplied, for the water problem is, at the time of writing, one 

 that concerns the natives very acutely. For more than a month 

 not a drop of rain has fallen, though, to the north of us, the 

 mountains around Loch Goil, Loch Long, and Loch Lomond, are 

 often " up among the clouds." 



Of course, we have no. waterworks, and the supply must come 

 either from springs or burns. The latter, though numerous, 

 are mostly dried up, and the wee Brown Trout find it difficult 

 to secure a suitable environment in which to take shelter, until 

 such time as the welcome rain shall bring to them that which 

 is necessary for their sustenance and well-being. All day long 

 the lads and lasses make their way to a spring to the south of 

 Clynder, at a little place called Strone, carrying water-bottles, 

 tea-kettles, and pots and pans of various shapes and sizes, to 

 secure a supply of one of the greatest necessaries of life. We 

 ourselves can hold out a good bit longer, but one has to be mighty 



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