SHORES OF THE CLYDE AND FIRTH, 
145 
capture of the denizens of the deep. Even the little island 
before us appeals to our attention to this in the name of the 
Skate — a most appropriate appellation ; for, in the distance, 
its smooth outlines, rising above the surface of the sea, 
present to the eye the exact appearance of the fish of that 
name. Stretching across the mouth of the loch, with the 
island of Arran away in the south and the bold coast of 
Skipness in the west, we soon reach the south shore, and 
are speedily landed at Tarbert— the cradle of herring trawl- 
ing in Loch Fyne. 
The entrance to the bay of Tarbert, and the bay itself, is 
interspersed with a number of small islands which, under 
certain winds, must be dangerous obstacles to encounter, 
particularly to strangers making for the port in the night- 
time ; but the harbour within is safe and commodious, and 
capable of holding a large fishing fleet. The little town 
of Tarbert is completely modernised, having few of the old 
thatch-covered cottages still in existence, of which the place 
was originally composed. Our modern sanitation is un- 
doubtedly the foe of disease, but why should it be made 
the pretext for becoming the evictor of our pretty High- 
land cot, under whose comfortable, unpretentious roofs the 
sturdiest and bravest of our race had transmitted to them, 
i I their mother's milk, the strength of their forefathers. 
Like the Duke of Argyll's heart warming to the tartan, our 
heart warms to the little straw-thatched cot, with its white- 
washed front and its windows smothered over with roses, 
or peering through a thicket of ivy. But the pride of our 
modern notions spurn it, and is only pleased to see it adorn 
the canvas of the painter. 
Mounting the rising steep on the left, we are soon on 
the grounds of the ancient castle. The old structure, now 
crumbled into a ruin, seems to have been originally a place 
