THE MOOR AND THE LOCH. 



the loch ; hooked a fine fish off Enish Isle ; he made capital 

 play for half an hour, when I stranded him upon the island. 

 Weight, nine and a half pounds, in first-rate condition, and a 

 beautiful fish. Had a look at the island, and a description of 

 it from old Sandy. It is a fine green sheep-pasture, and often 

 called the green isle, as well as Enish Isle, or Ellen's Island. 

 Ellen was a daughter of Sir James M'Naughton, and was the 

 first person buried in the island. She was drowned in the loch. 

 The poor chief of Lochiel, who was stabbed with the penknife 

 in Castle Connal, was also buried here. After having satisfied 

 my craving for traditions, true or false, we re-entered the boat, 

 and coasted Fruichland, or the Heather Island. The Castle of 

 Fruichland is a picturesque ruin. Sir James M'Naughton was 

 once governor of it, and, when Ben Cruachan was a deer-forest, 

 Alexander the Third sojourned in the castle to enjoy forest 

 sport. Its shore, however, afforded none to me. We now 

 coasted the mainland to the head of the loch, where I hooked 

 a small fellow, only one pound and three quarters came 

 round the opposite side, and entered the estuary of the Awe, a 

 fine black deep creek, but I never hooked a large fish in it. 

 To-day we only got a small thing, rather more than a pound. 

 To make up, Sandy was profuse in story. Pointing to the 

 dark threatening mountain, with the white streak of the winter 

 drift upon its summit, " It was on the side o' Ben Cruachan 

 here, that the Irish chief, MTaydon, was beat by Sir William 

 Wallace, and chased into a cave yonder " (showing a crag op- 

 posite). " Sir William fand him oot, however, an' stuck his 

 head on a spear on the tap o' the craig, by order o' Sir Neil 

 Campbell, Black Knight o' Loch Owe." 



I was pondering over the rock, where the Irish chief's know- 

 ledge-box had, no doubt, afforded a resting-place for the sage 

 owls of the neighbouring dells, when Sandy again called my at- 

 tention to a brook, fringed with oak copse, which trickled over 

 the heathery brow of Ben Cruachan. From his solemn air I 

 expected an improvement on the Black Knight's cruelty to poor 



