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‘•the frowning works” “the impregnable
and loDg prepared position” and the
“rifle trenches” of Marye’s Hill; and
when this position, defended by about
3,500 men, was unsuccessfully attacked
by Hancok’s, French’s, Howard’s Sturgis’
and Getty’s division, about 30,000 strong
he states that “these troops could not
advance and would not retire, and all
they could do was to hold a line well ad
vanced on the plain.” Now the truth
of this whole matter is that Marye’s Hill
was, and still is, a steep slope about
thirty feet high, jutting out several
hundred yards in front of a higher range
of bills, on which higher range it was in
tended before hand to make the battle.
At the foot of the hill, and skirting it
for three hundred yards, is a sunken road
the revetment of which is the famous
stone wall. On top of this hill and scat
tered over the space of a quarter of a mile
were eleven unfinished gun pits, and be
f?iues the e not a spade had been stuck in
the earth for a half mile nearly, in any
direction. In front of this sunken road
some two hundred yards, was a very con
siderable parallel depression, through
which llowed a small canal with some
bridges over it. In this depression the
Yankee columns formed under excellent
cover and from it, they charged the stone
wall or sunken road. In this road Gen.
McLaws put a part of Cobb’s Brigade,
afterwards reinforced by a part of Ker
shaw s Brigade, from South Carolina, on
the principle of fighting for every inch
of ground that afforded an opportunity
of making even a temporary stand. The
Washington Artillery—nine guns, and
two guns of Manny’s Battery occupied
the eleven unfinished pits, and a regiment
from Cooke’s North Carolina Brigade was
in a ditch on the left of Cobb, extending
his line from where the sunken road had
turned to the front. The position was
doubtless good, but by no means impreg
nable, for an assaulting column would re
ceive no musketry fire until it came out
of the depression two hundred yards off,
arid if it should succeed in approaching
within sixty yards of the sunken road
scarcely a single gun could he brought
to bear on it, for the pits were located
with the design of firing upon the
enemy’s batteries across the river—
net of defending the sunken road.—
The principle reason of the enemy’s
failure, was that he could not lace
the fire long enough to close upon the
Confederates, who were perfectly acces
sible had he chosen to come. He could
net advance, only, because he would not;
and he would not retreat because the de
pression gave cover and safety.*
[to be continued ]
*Tho official report of Gen. Meagher will astonish
those who believe that the Irish Brigade did the
principle part of the fighting on this field. This re
port, published in Moore’s Rebellion Record, states
that this Brigade (which was in the fifth line in the
column of assault) made one assault, when being
broken, it rallied in the tovm where, General Meagher,
being a little lame, had preceded it to get his horse, and
shortly ..tter being joined by its remnants he took it
across the Rappahannock back to the north side. The
"advanced line” that he heid in the plain was but the
edge of this depression where he could stay without
much exposure to tire.
£i train.
Wntii'.n for the Banner of the South ami Planters,
Journal.
HARVEST GLEANINGS FROM AN AU
TUMN IN EUROPE
WILLIAM HENRY WADDELL, UNIVERSITY OF
GEORGIA.
NO. i.
THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND.
"My heart is in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart’s in the Highlands, a chasing the deer;
A chasing the wild deer and following the roe,
My heart’s In the Highlands, wherever I go !”
The above lines were chiming through
my brain as a brisk little steamer shoved
off from her landing immediately below
one of the massive stone bridges thrown
aeioss the river Clyde at Glasgow, in
Scotland. ’Twas early in September and
early in the morning—so early that the
passengers, of whom I was one, were fully
BANNER OF THE SOUTH AND PLANTERS’ JOURNAL.
prepared to do justice, upon the steamer,
to the breakfast which they had not been
able to procure before embarking. For
miles upon miles the banks of the Clyde,
below Glasgow, are covered with vast
hulls of uncompleted iron-clad steamers
in every possible stage of advancement.
The enormous black sides rise magnifi
cently into the air, and the workmen
swarm over them like bees, as the cease
less ring of their hammers, riveting on
the iron plates, echoes through the hills
from dawn until dark. These vast
wharves and other improvements upon
the Clyde have cost in the neighborhood
of fifteen millions of dollars. You may
see, lying at their moorings in and around
the great city of Glasgow, steamers be
longing to lines running to Ireland, Eng
land and other European destinations, as
well as to Canada, the United States, the
East Indies and Australia. Glasgow is
indeed the third, and some think, the
second city in the United Kingdom—dis
puting the palm with Liverpool itself.
All of the greatest and finest built ocean
ships have been built upon the Clyde,
and Messrs. Laird & Cos., and Messrs.
Todd & McGregor and others, have,
probably, more tonnage of this class
afloat than all of the world put together.
A glance at a map will show the
reader that the river Clyde, at a short
distance below Glasgow, is merged in a
broad arm of the sea, which we would
have called an inlet, but which the Scotch
call the Frith or Firth of Clyde. The
head waters of this and those of the
Firth or Forth, on the opposite side of
the Island, have their sources within but
a few miles of one another.
On the right bank of the river, just
where it’s tributary, the Seven, empties
into it, our attention was directed to a
huge mound of solid rock, springing per
pendicularly into the air, crowned by a
massive fortification, and known since
the days of Sir William Wallace, as
“Dunbarton Castle.” A rocky staircase
conducts us to the summit where we may
see a huge, two-handed sword, said to have
been wielded by the great Wallace himself,
and whence we may enjoy a fine view
of the river and Firth of Clyde and the
beautiful Loch Lomond.
The town of Greenock marks the end
of the river and the beginning of the
Firth. Our course here turns due south
and, having rounded the Isk of Bute
upon the right shore, we reversed the
compass and steamed along the sea coa*t
until we reached the mouth of a small
inlet, called Loch (the Scotch for Lake)
Tyne. Ten miles up this, and, upon
the left side, the tourist will find upon
his “ clew-map ” of Scotland, a black line
drawn from Lock Fine across the nar
row neck of land named Cantire to the
south-western end of the great Caledo
nian Canal. This black line is meant to
represent the Crinan Canal of which the
termini are Ararishaig and Crinan. This
short-cut saves many a poor tourist’s
stomach the pangs of sea-sickness which
are inevitably attendant upon sailing
around the long and narrow Peninsula
of Cantire, shooting far out into rlie sea
and exposing the little steamer to many
a rude wave and rough wind, which it is
ill-prepared to meet. Leaving the boat
upon which we started, we walked across
the little Scotch village of Ardrishaig,
which is the eastern or Clyde terminus
of CriDan Canal, and we embarked upon
a little toy steamer, which floated lightly
upon the clear wafers of the rock-curbed
Canal, and which, with all of its surround
ings, was upon such a diminutive scale
that we seemed to have been suddenly
transferred to Fairy Land. A placard
warned passengers against throwing pence
to the children upon the banks, which
was unintelligible, until the little cockle
shell having steamed up and commenced
puffing along its narrow channels, an
escort of some twenty ragged Highland
boys formed in Indian file upon the banks,
and keeping exactly abreast of the steam
er, made the air reverberate with the
most piteous entreaties for
‘*A penny, please! A penny, please!
A penny, gude sirs! A penny, please!”
The passengers, for their own amuse
ment and without the slightest impulses
of charity, would toss a penny at a time
from the deck upon the bank, and the
ravenous avidity with which the entire
crew would dart at it, gave proof that
pence among them held the proportions
of pounds amoDg others. They followed
the steamer five miles, frequently pur
suing a copper, in an undistinguishable
struggling mass, down to the very waters’
edge, to the no small danger of their own
lives and to the shouting merriment of
the passengers. The water in the Canal,
unexpectedly failing, we rode and walked
about four miles to the Western terminus,
where, at length, we boarded the last
steamer for Oban. This flourishing town
is the capital of the Western Highlands
and beautifully situated upon a Bay
capable of accommodating a fleet of 300
ships. It is the headquarters of all
Scottish tourists in the North-western
part of the Island, and a most charming
month may be spent at its splendid hotels,
making it the “point d’appui” for excur
sions, thence to Staffa and Lona, to the
Western Islands or up the great Caledo
nian Canal to Inverness; of which ex
cursions we went upon the last men
tioned.
If my reader wiil look at a section
map of Great Britain, he will perceive
that the Northern part of Scotland is nearly
a large Island, washed upon the North and
West by the Atlantic Ocean ; upon the
East by the North Sea or German Ocean,
and upon the South by a chain of four
Lakes, connected together by artificial
waters. These Lakes are Loch Linuhe,
(the South-western terminus), Loch Eil,
Loch Lochy, Loch Oich and Loch Ness.
These, with their connecting canals, con
stitute the great Caledonian Canal, of
which the North-eastern terminus is In
verness, the Capital of the Northern
Highlands. No tourist should fail to
avail himself of an excursion ticket,
commencing at Glasgow and carrying
him over the route described, via the
Caledonian Canal to Inverness, thence
down the Highland Railway, through
the Pass of Kiliiecrankie to Calavider
>
and thence, by Lock Katrine, the Tros
sachs and Loch Lomond to Edinburgh.
O
The evening shadows were drawing
down the curtains of day close around the
lonely mountains, as we shot swiftly over
the smooth bosom of the beautiful High
land lake. Like most of these, it is a long
narrow sheet of water, with the mountains
rising abruptly from the grass-covered
banks and swelling in the most glorious
rolling slopes, tier upon tier of natural
terraces, until—far, far away, up among
the clouds—the clear-cut outline reposed
in majestic serenity against the empyrean
dome. Here and there, a shepherd’s
hut hung suspended from the mountain
side, but usually the natural wildness of
the scenery was undisturbed by human
abodes. For a good while, I was de
ceived by, what I thought to be, white
flint rocks scattered about over the sur
face and flecking the deep green back
ground with an cccasional flake as though
of driven snow. The moving about of
the tiny white spots excited my curiosity,
and a good glass soon developed them
into countless flocks of sheep, grazing
upon the mountains. They are not very
large, but seemed to be hardy and in ex
cellent condition, and the flocks, number
less as they were, occupied a very small
proportion of the vast pasture upon
which they and their progenitors for a
thousand years had grazed.
Nighu had hidden mountain and
lake alike in darkness as we came to
halt Fort William, and, after a hard
struggle, secured a bed at “Banavie
Inn." The first sight which met our
gaze, next morning, was the towering
peak of Ben Nevis, springing precipi
tiously into the air 4,406 feet, and now
acknowledged to be the highest moun
tain in Scotland. Let not the tourist
who follows in my tracks attempt its
ascent without a good guide. There's
danger in it!
Every foot of our journey here has its
swarm of traditionary aDd historical
incidents connected with it. Inverlochy
Castle, on the left was the scene of a
erreat rout of King James, the Ist, by
Donald of the Isles, and here, too, the
traveler who has read the “Legend of
Montrose” by Sir Walter Scott, will be
interested to know that the decisive
battle was fought, in which the Marquis
of Argyle was defeated with great
slaughter by James, Marquis of Mon
trose, when
"Faint the din of battle brayed,
Distant down the hollow wind ;
W T ar and terror lied before,
Wounds aLd death remained behind.”
We are now upon Loch Lochy. ten
miles long, with its shores thickly wood
ed with undergrowth, in the dense re
cesses of which Prince Charles Edward,
the Pretender, found many a hidden
place, in the stormy days of “45 !”
Upon the shores of Loch Oieh, the
next link in the chain, he assembled his
army before entering the Lowlands.
I could have fancied myself transported
in person back to those turbulent times,
as a stalwart Highlander in full costume,
strode up and down the deck, evidentlv
deeming himself “the observed of all
observers.” A Scotch Cap surmounted
his head, a many-striped kilt covered
his body, and, by means of its skirt,
concealed, without protecting his legs
down to a small distance above the
knee, while his hairy skin was exposed
from this poiut to his socks, gartered by
brilliant transverse bands, and finished
off by a pair of low-quartered shoes.
I ought not to omit the dirk whose
handle protruded from between his sock
and the calf of his leg, nor the hair
covered pouch, which hung suspended
from his belt, in front of his body. In
cold weather, the great national costume,
the Tartan, a large plaid, worn as an
over-garment, completed the above
description of a Highland Dandy. The
last of the Lakes, Loch Ness, extends
nearly 24 miles and is remarkable for its
immense depth, in some cases reaching
1,000 feet.
The swift little steamer makes a
t ippage of three fourths of an hour at
“Foyers’ Pier,” upon the right, in order
to allow Tourists to visit the “Falls of
Foyers.'' These are situated “about"
a mile from the Landing. I Italize the
the about , because I found in this, as in
many other instances in Scotland that
“about one mile” meant more than two.
If you wish to see them (and they are
worth it !) avail yourself of the vehicles
as far as they will carry you. The walk
up the precipitous mountain side and
the descent into the ravine, whence
only you can see the Falls, followed by
a “da capo” of both is a feat not to be
undertaken by any but. a Tourist of good
wind and strong, as well as fleet legs. The
first Fall is 40 feet high, the second 90,
and the last is the finest cascade in Bri
tain.
Muirtown, a suburb of Inverness is
the termination of the great Canal, of
which the artificial cuttings amount to
22 miles with an average depth of
20 feet. It is a glorious work and a
magnificent monument of British en
terprise.
Inverness, the long established Capital
of the Highlands of Scotland is an ele
gant and beautiful town, which seems
strangely incongruous, in its paved
streets, gas-lights, fine stone mansions
and splendid county buildings, with
the wild mountain fastnesses which sur
round it. The view from the Castle
(now County Court-house) is indescribably
grand. In the neighborhood, 5 miles
distant is Culloden Moor, where the sun
of the last Stuart went down in deepest
gloom.
The journey by the Highland Rail
way from Inverness to Dunblane is an
uninterrupted panorama of the loveliest
and, at times, the most magnificent
scenery in all Scotland. The Railroad
passes through the far-famed Pass of
Kiliiecrankie, where Viscount Dundee
won the battle ana lost his life, and the
wild Highland glens teem with associa
tions in History, Poetry and Music.
At Dunblane, a branch Road took us
to Callender, a small to\Vn from which
Coaches start to carry Tourists to the
most celebrated of the Scottish Lakes.
We ought to have posted ourselves fully
upon Sir Walter Scot’s “Lady of the
Lake,” in order to apply his descriptions
to their originals, for the scene of that
exquisite creation of his imagination is
laid all along the route from Callender
to Loch Lomond. Only a blind man
could fail to be charmed by the accumu
lated interest which the sight of the
scenery gives to the Poem; while only
an illiterate one could avoid seeing new
beauties in the book of Nature by the
aid of the almost divine power of the
“Great Wizard of the North.” A seat
upon the top of a sort of ha If-wagon and
half-omnibus gave us an unbroken view
of Landscape, which is surpassingly
beautiful. The road leads, approaching
the fumous Bridge of Turk, to the -lop
of a hill, from which the lovely little
Loch Archray burst fully into sight, and
as we thundered across the river, each
one repeated silently,
“And when the Brigg of Turk was won,
The headmost horseman rode alone!”
Saturday night brought us, after four
hoars on the Omnibus-wagon, to tho
Trossachs’ Hotel built on the very water’s
edge of Loch Archray. After a quiet
Sunday in this lonely but enchantingly
beautiful spot, we rode over to the
shores of Loch Katrine early on Monday
Morning. I put in here a word of practi
cal advice to any reader who may follow
in my tracks. The stage-driver from
Callender to Loch Katrine are in the
habit of levying a ü black mail” upon
travelers, in addition to their already
pre-paid fare. These swindling scamps
should not be indulged to the amount of
a solitary penny, however much they
may bully you.
Loch Katrine is among the loveliest of
all of the lakes of earth. The deep, dark
water is unruffled by a breath of air, the
solemn mountain peaks, stand like
mighty sentinels to preserve the death
like stillness of the scene ; small, densely
grown islands here and there variegate
the surface of the water and the most
beautiful of them ail is the sweet Ellen’s
Isle, where,
‘ The Stranger viewed the shore around;
’Twas all so close with copsewood bound,
Nor track nor pathway might declare
That human foot frequented there”
[Lady of the Lake.
Another nondescript vehicle which trans
ported us across the ridge which separates
the Western end of Loch Katrine from the
Northern end of Loch Lomond. The
road terminates at lnversaid Hotel some
distance below the head of the Lake,
but the Steamer carries you up to the
Northern extremity of Loch Lomond and
returns its whole length in the same day.
Hero Rob Roy, the wild Highland
Chieftain, ruled with undisputed sway,
and a hole in the hillside on the shores
of the Loch is poi Redout, both as Rob
Roy’s Cave, and as a hiding-place of
King Robert Bruce after the battle of
Dalree. Coming on down the Lake, we
may stop at Rowardennon Pier, at which
Tourists d’sembark in order to ascend
Ben Lomond, a magnificent mountain,
looming up 3,19*2 feet above the level of
the Sea. At Balloch Pier, at the foot of
the lake, we took the Cars for Glasgow,
bat leaving the main trunk, got upon
the Edinburgh train and drove up Princes
Street in time for a good supper in
what the Scotch delight in calling “Auld
Reekie.”
So terminates five days in the High
lands of Scotland. I would advise any
Tourist who may follow me over this
really charming excursion to make up
his mind to encounter many keen and
obstinate attempts to swindle him. The
Highlanders are very poor : they firmly
believe Tourists to be, all of them, very
rich : and, so, upon the principle that
this unequal distribution of the gifts of
Fortune, is an unjust one, they have but
one tarriff of charges for Travelers :
viz \just as much as they can possibly
extort 1 At the same time, a firm, cool
and perfectly just settlement of their
claims is commonly succumbed to, with
very good grace. No Kule is as ab
solutely unexceptional as to make all
bargains beforehand I Never leave an
inch of margin as to anv after-charges
for service rendered.
5