SEPTEMBER 239 



LVI 



Seven miles or so south of Logan aforesaid, at the end 

 of the long lean finger of land known as the Thelort 

 Rhinns of Galloway, the Silurian rocks rear secret of 

 themselves into an eminence forming the Heatll6rAle 

 southernmost point of Scotland. This is the Mull of 

 Galloway, far seen by day across the Irish Channel and 

 the Solway Firth, further still by night by reason of the 

 powerful revolving light which guides the great stream 

 of merchandise bound to and from the Clyde. It was 

 here, as tradition tells, that a secret of great price was 

 irrevocably lost. The Picts were once masters of all 

 south-western Scotland, but they had to yield league after 

 league to a more powerful and aggressive race, the Scots 

 of Ireland. Now the Picts possessed the art of brewing 

 good ale from heather, the recipe being preserved heredi- 

 tarily in a single family of them, and known to members 

 of that family alone. Whereas heather abounded exceed- 

 ingly in Galloway, the Scots invaders, being good judges 

 of ale and mighty consumers thereof, naturally coveted 

 the means of converting so much good material into such 

 a desirable beverage ; but of the prisoners captured none 

 was able to impart the secret, even had he been willing 

 to purchase his life by betraying it to the enemy. Really, 

 it was most tantalising. 



In the end there happened six days of incessant 

 slaughter, when Niall- of -the -Nine -Hostages, king - in - 

 chief of Ireland, drove the Picts, fighting desperately, 

 down the narrow promontory ending in the Mull of 

 Galloway. Men, women, and children all perished, until 

 there remained alive but four men a father and three 



