We found Dungowan, as our host Captain Campbell was commonly called by the Celts of the island, not only hospitable, but really, notwithstanding his mean appearance, a gentleman of good manners, and possessed of humour and information.

“The Highlands,” said he, “have seen their best days; the chieftains are gone, and the glory of the claymore is departed for ever. I speak to you, gentlemen, who cannot but compare the lonely, comfortless condition which I am obliged to put up with here, with the active, bustling, and gay nine-and-thirty years that I have spent in the King's service, and in other lands;—but I must not say so, for although the olden time has long been dead, its spirit walks the mountains, and scowls upon me when I dare to repine. After an absence of many years, I came back to this old spot, which often was remembered in distant scenes as the pleasantest that the earth could contain; but on my return, all that had endeared it in recollection existed no more. That poor old woman, my housekeeper, alone remains of all those to whom I was attached: it is only by missing early friends that we discover how little the aspect of our native land contributes to the sentiment with which it is pictured on the memory. In truth, I am weary of this empty place, and although past the season of adventure, I have resolved to seek another scene. Here I am idle. What does it avail to sit on a rock looking at yon shipless ocean, or to lounge on the hill side listening to the humming-bee? This country is now but for sheep—Men have no business here; and one like me, who has lived in activity, makes misery for himself when he imagines that the stirring spirit of the world can be brought home to the glen, the island, or the moor.