as fine a one I think as I have seen, and from thence the cairn 3,541 is reached. It is situated as far back, so to speak, as the hill will permit, the northern face of which falls at once very steeply to Loch Etive (the wild loch) below. I may here mention that the writer of the statistical account of the parish in which this hill is situated-Glenurchy parish,-quaintly remarks that "Ben Starive . . forms a noble object in the landscape, . . . and attains. an elevation of at least 2,500 feet." And it is somewhat curious that while the height of this hill is so much underestimated, the altitude of Ben Cruachan is stated to be 3669, which is very nearly correct. He also mentions that the crystals found upon this hill are considered not inferior to those found upon the Cairngorms.

..

The weather, as we had anticipated, had now (12.40 P.M.) improved, and the view was a magnificent one, the hills in the Black Mount and Glencoe looking their best, although from Beinn a Beither (hills of the thunderbolts), at Ballachulish northwards, the clouds were approaching, thus preventing Ben Nevis and those farther north being very distinctly seen. To the southward and eastward again were our familiar friends, whose names are now almost household words among the members of the Club, while of the scene down Loch Etive and seaward over the islands, it would be impossible to say too much.

Thanks to Munro's invaluable list, we were, on leaving the cairn, guided to the subsidiary top, Stob Choire Dheirg (3,372 feet), which is reached by a narrow and in some parts rocky ridge, which, although easily traversed on a fine day in June, I confess I should not care much to negotiate when snow or ice were present, not to speak of mist and wind. I do not find this top, which is marked by a small cairn, given on the one-inch map, and I am rather disposed to think that the more correct spelling of the name is Dhearg, not Dheirg, for if I am right in thinking that it is called "the peak of the red corrie," then it is very appropriately named, but perhaps for my knowledge of Gaelic nomenclature is of the most limited-the adjective Dheirg is the same as Dhearg. I may perhaps add here, when on the subject of names, that the grazing on these hills in the old

days must have been much superior to what it appears to be now, for in addition to Ben Aighean, "the hill of the heifers," we find in the immediate neighbourhood Ben Chaorach, or "the hill of the sheep," and I may perhaps also be allowed to say that I am told that Bidean nam Bian means "the pinnacles of the skins," there having on the latter hill, a century or two ago, been on one occasion a great slaughter of deer there. I observe, however, that Mr Gilbert Thomson gives the translation of Bidean nam Bian as "the highest of the hills." I confess to being much interested in this branch of Gaelic philology (see Mr Hinxman's paper on the Torridon hills), and I would be glad if any member who has a knowledge of the subject would take the trouble, as an interesting supplement to Mr Munro's list, to give us at some future period a translation of the names of the larger hills, say of those of 3,500 feet and upwards.

Our journey homewards was made by the same route as that followed in the morning, although the pull up the Beallach to Glen Strae seemed most unnecessarily to have doubled itself in length and height, but a " stout heart to a stey brae" overcame all obstacles, and Corrieghoil was reached at 6.30. Our day's work we estimated at about thirty miles of walking, inclusive of some 7,000 feet of climbing. So ended a most successful and enjoyable day, to be repeated later on, we hoped, in the subjection of two more of the Glen Etive giants-Stob Coire an Albanaich and Ben Aighean.

P.S. Since the above was written, I have made inquiry as to the meaning of the name "Starav." It appears, my informant tells me ("he has the Gaelic "), to be a corruption of "Starbhanach," which means, according to him, a stout, bulky man, with a small head. But be this as it may, it is certainly true that the hill, from some points of view, and particularly from Ben Chleib, answers wonderfully to this description.

"DEEP GLEN LYON."

BY JOSEPH GIBSON STOTT.

RIGHT athwart the western half of the broad fair county of Perth, from the rugged Argyllshire marches to the smiling meadows of Aberfeldy, stretches "deep and dark Glen Lyon." Up at its head a thousand streams pour down the rocky flanks of Ben Creachan and Ben Achallader, Creag Mhor, Ben Vannoch, and Ben Heasgarnich, and unite to form the parent loch, whence the waters of Lyon-already a powerful river-start eastwards on their thirty-mile journey to the Tay. Rich is their course in song, and legend, and tradition,—from the days when Agricola camped his legions at Fortingal, down through the wars of Robert the Bruce, and many a bloody clan battle and foray, to peaceful modern times. Rich is it, too, in all that is fairest in Highland scenery soaring mountain top, and wild mountain pass; deep shady woodland, emerald meadow; steep braes, where wave the bracken and the heather; thundering linns, where the torrent wars for aye with the rock; the ruins of ivy-clad fortalices, and the more pretentious mansions of the present day. But it is not with Glen Lyon beauties in the aggregate that this paper must concern itself. While we are musing on the changes through which the famous yew tree-said to be three thousand years old-in Fortingal Churchyard has lived, our dog-cart is at the door of the inn, and we must away.

It is a cloudy, sultry morning in August. There is little wind in the glen, and on the hills the grey mist broods heavily. It is only nine o'clock, however, and Munro, a young Canadian friend-who thinks the Lyon knocks the Rhine into fits, and the writer have some hopes of the day improving, as they jog along through the pass, and onward to the Free Church, nine miles above Fortingal.

Here we are-a bonny spot, a bold bluff hill, wellnamed Ben Dearg, from its red shingly shoulders, guarding the tributary Northern Glen on the west side, the steep green slopes of our objective, Carn Gorm (3,370 feet), towering upwards on the other. We leave the road at 10.40, and

take at once to the hill. Half-a-mile up the burn, a tributary corrie-Coire nam Fraochag-opens on our right; we leave our northern course, turn north-east, and on stiffening gradients plod aloft. For more than a mile we climb diagonally along the steep face of the corrie to a height of about 2,700 feet, the work being of that unpleasant ankletwisting description inseparable from progress across a steep slope. From time to time we stop to examine some specially pretty flower (these Glen Lyon mountains are renowned as a botanical field), and so far we have bonny glimpses of the sun-illumined glen beneath, and the steep smooth slopes around us. Very soon, however, these latter are taken from us; for we have hardly begun to face the more direct ascent before the mist envelopes us in a cold damp cloud. Mounting more rapidly now over mossy rocks, and shingle slopes, we reach the cairn at 12.25. View there is none; and to the mist there is superadded a thin soaking drizzle; so we merely stop long enough to make some observations with compass and aneroid, and then bear away north-eastward for our next point-the top of Meall Garbh, a couple of miles off.

We descend about 500 feet to the col, and from it have a brief glimpse of Loch Rannoch to the north, and Glen Lyon, still sunny and pleasant-looking, to the south. The height of Meall Garbh is something over 3,200 feet, and we reach it at one o'clock, in thick mist and rain. Short halt we make here. The slope sinks steeply eastward for 500 or 600 feet to the col, and beyond it a momentary thinning of the mist shows us the southern buttresses, the rough bouldery slopes, and confusing summits of Cairn Mairg. But before we attack this mountain, lunch is an important consideration, so a suitable rill is found just below the saddle, and the sandwiches and flask produced, and done justice to.

With the inch-to-the-mile map, the aneroid and compass, we anticipated no more difficulty in traversing Cairn Mairg than we had met on the two summits already surmounted. In this we were entirely deceived. Certainly there was little room for error in our previous work, as in both cases the ridges we had followed led us directly to the somewhat narrow peaks. Cairn Mairg, however, is a much bigger

mountain, and his summit, or summits-for more than one is marked on the map-rise from considerable areas of ground that are above 3,000 feet in altitude. Our subsequent wanderings were so extraordinary and so utterly at variance-corroborated as they were by very frequent use of compass and aneroid,-with what is set forth on the maps, that we have been driven to the conclusion the map is incorrect. A study of the six-inch-to-the-mile map has thrown no light on the subject, and we shall have to wait until we are enabled to make a survey of the hill in clear weather to determine where the error is. I may mention, however, that Mr C. B. Phillip, who has been twice on the hill, is of opinion that the maps are very unsatisfactory.

We left our luncheon spot at 1.40, and took a compass course E.N.E. up the slope, the effect of which should have been to bring us in about a mile to the top, marked 3,250 in /': the one-inch map. In due course we did reach a height that answered this description, and immediately, in thick fog and pelting rain, laid a course E.S.E. for where the highest top of the mountain (3,419 feet) was marked little more than a mile away. After traversing less than half this distance, we became aware that there was a deepening watercourse on our left (ie., north), whose waters ran in an easterly direction. This watercourse had no existence on the map. Suddenly the mist thinned, and we saw that this water rose in a boggy hollow north-west of, and well below us. And beyond it a bold ridge started upwards and was soon lost in the clouds. We descended, crossed the depression, gained this ridge, and after following it for over half-an-hour arrived at a long crest, whose height the aneroid gave at about 3,300 feet. Doubtful as to how the barometer had made such an error, and still firmly convinced that we must be on the highest top of the mountain, we laid a south-east course for the neighbouring hill, Creag Mhor. We failed to keep on the shoulder, and soon found ourselves descending through thick heather into a deep corrie full of peat haggs. Soon a gleam of daylight again came to our rescue, and showed us a mass of mountain swathed in cloud, due east of us. It must be Creag Mhor, we thought, so we scrambled and jumped through the haggs,