162 MY LIFE AS A NATURALIST 



to Glen Nevis, after a meal at the West End hotel. This hotel 

 is most comfortably situated on the shore of Loch Eil, with the 

 Argyllshire coast immediately opposite. Fort William, of course, 

 is in Inverness-shire. I felt privileged to sign the visitors' book 

 at the hotel, for my signature almost followed that of several 

 distinguished foreign visitors to this mecca of Scotland, including 

 the members of the French Alpine Club. Fort William itself 

 is not particularly interesting. There are several hotels, two of 

 them, the Alexander and the West Highland, if my memory 

 serves me correctly, being the most notable. Being a poor 

 man, I was recommended by a friend to stay at the West End 

 hotel, and can highly recommend it to any of my readers desirous 

 of undertaking a similar pilgrimage to my own. After tea, we 

 walked through the long straggling street, as far as the entrance 

 to Glen Nevis, crossing the bridge which spans the Nevis Burn. It 

 was very lonesome there in the failing light. Ben Nevis had his 

 nightcap well drawn over his head, and the eerie cry of a wander- 

 ing Curlew added a touch of weirdness to a mere southerner, 

 such as myself. 



The one great desire which possessed us was to get a still 

 better view of the mountain, but in this we were disappointed, 

 for darkness was coming on apace, and we were in a strange 

 land, and did not wish to be stranded for the night ! I called 

 at a solitary whitewashed cottage on the hillside, a " but-and-a- 

 ben," as the song says, and gained a little information as to our 

 whereabouts. The lady of the house was, with one exception, as 

 dirty a Scotchwoman as I have set eyes upon. I shall write of her 

 when treating of Mallaig. But the Nevis woman would have 

 been handsome, if well washed, and decently clothed. She 

 possessed a fine round head, with peering blue eyes, and a Roman 

 nose, but she looked careworn, lonely, and sad. She had a 

 little child with her at the cottage door. The poor bairn was 

 sadly clothed, and very dirty. I gave the wee mite a threepenny 

 piece to put in her money box, if she possessed one, and was 

 thanked a thousand times by the mother for my princely gift. 

 It was a sickening sight to have even a peep inside that squalid 

 home, and I tore myself away with a pang of remorse. The 

 members of my little party were waiting for me near by. Another 

 road skirted the Nevis Burn on the opposite shore, and, as the 

 burn was almost dried up, we decided to cross it. Now burns 

 are deceptive " craters," as they say in Scotland, and, although 

 this was the driest Summer at Fort William for, at least, fifty 



