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General account of the Devon and its vale—Glen Devon and Glen Eagles—Parish
of Fossoway—The Crook of Devon and Titllicbale—The Devil's Mill, Rumbling
Bridge, and Cauldron Linn,
The whole of the region which
we have been traversing from Logie church eastwards belongs to the vale of
the Devon, which has its source in the parish of Blackford, in the western
range of the Ochils, behind Ben Cleuch. It flows first east and then
south-east through Glen Devon, separates the parishes of Muckhart and
Fossoway, and maintains a south-easterly course till it reaches the village
of the Crook of Devon, where it makes a singular bend to the west. It flows
in this direction till it reaches the extremity of Dollar valley in the
neighbourhood of Menstrie and Tullibody, where it turns to the southwest and
falls nto the sea at Cambus, about two miles to the west of Alloa. Here it
is only six miles due south from its source, though including 'ts windiugs
the whole of its course has a length of forty miles. At the Rumbling Bridge,
about a nnle below the Crook of Devon, it forces hs way through a tremendous
rift or chasm, and then emerging from this, it pursues a gentle and placid
course till it reaches the Cauldron Linn, over which it precipitates itself
<n a singular and terrific fashion, making a descent of 88 feet. Having thus
arrived at a lower level, it resumes its former placidity of current, and
preserves it to the end. Indeed the vale of the Devon below the Cauldron
Linn is so little raised above the level of the sea, that projects used to
be entertained of connecting Alloa and Dollar by means of a canal. In the
latter part of ;ts course, the " clear winding Devon " becomes polluted by
the discharges from the factories and villages at the foot of the Ochils ;
and when it enters the sea at Cambus, it has become a very unsightly stream.
The upper vale of the Devon
is known specially as " Glen Devon," which is also the name of the parish in
which it is situated. The stream at first is simply a mountain - brook
flowing through a lonely and remote valley, which gradually opening out,
becomes cultivated, and joins at the hamlet of Glen Devon, at its entrance,
the sunny slopes on the southern side of the Ochils. This region is a
favourite place for making excursions to, not only from Dollar and the "hillfoots,"
but from places as remote as Alloa or Stirling, Dunfermline or Kinross. The
hamlet :s very prettily situated, and at a short distance up the glen there
is a very comfortable inn, at which any traveller proceeding northwards to
Crieff will do well to refresh himself, seeing that for fully twelve miles
between Glen Devon and the village of Muthil there is not merely an absence
of inns and hotels, but absolutely not one place where even a biscuit can be
procured. The road in this direction proceeds first up Glen Devon, then
passes into Glen Eagles, and so into Strathearn. A most beautiful road it
is, and equally suited to the requirements of the pedestrian, the bicyclist,
or the guider of a four-in-hand team; indeed a four-in-hand coach, conducted
by the Messrs Goodwin, used to run some years ago between Auchterarder and
the Rumbling Bridge via Glen Eagles and Glen Devon. But it is one of the
loneliest routes in the three kingdoms, and, though much softer as regards
the character of the scenery, reminds one strongly in point of solitariness
of the famous pass of Drumouchter, between Dalwhinnie and Dalnacardoch.
The distances from Glen Devon
are—Rumbling Bridge five, and Crieff fourteen and a half miles. It has a
very pretty little church, which, in its sequestered nook by the roadside,
is sure to arrest the attention of the traveller. Glen Devon Castle, an old
mansion still inhabited, appears on an eminence on the right-hand side of
the road about half a mile beyond the church in going to Crieff. At the
distance of another half-mile Glen Shcrup abuts on Glen Devon, and merits
notice as the locality from which Dunfermline and a large portion of the
western district of Fife, along with the burgh of Culross, derive their
water-supply. Having made the ascent from Glen Devon into Glen Eagles, and
passed the twelfth milestone from Crieff, the traveller will find on the
left-hand side of the road, a little to the southwest of the old toll-house,
a spring which bear? the name of St Mungo's Well. The whole district between
the Ochils and the Firth of Forth seems to have been the special patrimony
of St Mungo and his master St Serf.
An additional interest
attaches to the spring in question from the circumstance of its being the
source of the Ruthven, which Hows through the romantic glen of the same name
into the Earn. Kincardine Castle, the ancient residence of the Montrose
family, and now a ruin, stands on an eminence overlooking Ruthven Glen. The
Glen Eagles estate was the patrimony of Mr Haldane and his brother, the
celebrated evangelist, in the beginning of the present century. It is now
the property of the Earl of Camperdown. In bygone days Glen Eagles Castle
enjoyed an equivocal reputation as the scene of the intrigue of its mistress
with Squire Meldrum of Cleish, whose adventures have been recorded by Sir
David Lindsay.
On emerging from Glen Eagles
the traveller will find himself near a railway station, and also within a
few miles of Muthil; but as my present journeying is limited by the Ochils,
the north side of which we have now reached, as we did previously at the
Kirk of Dron, I can proceed no farther in this direction, and must return to
Glen Devon.
In going southwards from Glen
Devon towards the Yetts of Muckhart and the Rumbling Bridge, the traveller
may notice in the month of June, in a field on his left hand, sloping down
to the Devon, a collection of beautiful yellow flowers, which possibly he
may be ready to pass without further notice than that they seem to be a lot
of very large buttercups. In reality they are globe-flowers—the "bonnie
lucken gowan " of Hogg, which was formerly in great repute as a charm, and
which has its habitat in mountainous shady places. It is rarely, however,
that these flowers are found growing together in such quantity as in this
meadow, at the entrance of Glen Devon.
Near this place will be
observed an ancient narrow bridge over the Devon, which bears the name of St
Serf.
An old road crossed here and
led through the Ochils to the village of Dunning, in Strathearn, which is
now reached by a more convenient highway across a bridge a little lower down
the stream, and which branches off from the Glen Devon road immediately to
the north of the Yetts of Muckhart. Near the same place the great road from
Dollar and Stirling crosses the road to Glen Devon and Crieff, and continues
in an easterly direction downhill. Crossing the Devon at Old Fossoway
Bridge, it skirts the base of the Ochils through Carnbo to Milnathort, a
distance of eight miles; whilst at a point three and a half miles to the
west of the latter place it sends off a branch to Kinross, which is thus
nine miles from the Yetts and thirteen from Dollar. It leads through the
finest and most attractive part of Kinross-shire, the soil being good and
the country well wooded, whilst the ridge that here forms the south front of
the Ochils is cultivated almost to its very summit.
The parish of Fossoway, which
is entered after crossing the Devon at Old Fossoway Bridge, is rather
singularly placed, having its north and south districts in the county of
Perth ; whilst an intervening portion, originally forming the old parish of
Tulliebole, belongs to Kinross-shire, and is inserted like a wedge between
the divisions belonging to Perth. To distinguish these two last, the
northern is generally known by the appellation of Old Fossoway; and it also
contains the old parish church, manse, and burying-ground, which are
situated on the rising ground on the north side of the road, about half a
mile to the east of Old Fossoway Bridge. The high hill that rises behind to
the north is called Lendrick Hill, and has a height of 1496 feet.
The old manse of Fossoway has
been refitted as a private residence, and is very pleasantly situated, being
approached by an avenue from the Milnathort road.
The churchyard immediately
adjoins it on the east, and is still occasionally used for interments; but
as regards the church, little more than the foundations can now be
discerned. An ancient tomb or through-stane will be observed in memory of
the Rev. Laurence Mercer, minister of Fossoway in the seventeenth century,
and a member of the family of Meikleour, who owned Aldie Castle in the
southern division of Fossoway.
Fossoway is said to be a form
of the Gaelic Fasach fheidh—the desert of deer—just as the adjoining parish
of Muckhart is said to be Mtucard, or the height of the wild
boar,—derivations which are not without some degree of probability. It seems
to have been incorporated about 1614 with Tulliebole, where a "reader" used
to officiate, and had a stipend assigned out of the third of the revenues of
the Abbey of Culross. The ancient lords of the parish were the Murrays of
Tullibardine, ancestors of the Dukes of Athole, who are or were till
recently the feudal superiors of the greater portion of the lands in
Fossoway and Tulliebole, though they no longer hold any actual property.
The village of the Crook of
Devon lies about a mile to the south of Old Fossoway church, and belongs to
Kinross-shire and the old parish of Tulliebole. It may be reached from Old
Fossoway by a by-way which runs south from the Milnathort road and abuts on
its eastern extremity. The great artery of communication to and from it is
the highway from Kinross, which, issuing from the middle of the town, keeps
first north east towards the railway station at Kinross Junction, and then
proceeds nearly due east, crossing the South Queich at Balado Bridge, and
skirting on the north side the grounds of Tulliebole Castle. The distance of
the Crook of Devon from Kinross is about six miles, and the road, though
somewhat tame and monotonous, is an excellent one, and admirably kept, like
all the others in the county. A stranger cannot fail to remark the
multiplicity of roads, all good, which intersect in every direction this
portion of Kinross-shire.
Tulliebole lies about a mile
to the east of the Crook of Devon, with the hamlet of Drum between the
places. Among the documents relating to Scotland preserved in the Record
Office in London, there are, of 20th April 1304, "letters patent" from "Tulliebotheville,"
declaring that the King (Edward I.) has granted to Gilbert Malherbe all the
goods and chattels of William Oliphant, knight, and others, and of the
garrison of Stirling Castle, then in arms against him, wherever they may be
found in Scotland. The identity of this term with the modern Tulliebole is
rendered more than probable from a memorandum of a writ to be sent in King
Edward's name in the year last mentioned to John, Earl of Athole, who was
lord of the domain of Fossoway, and Edward's warden between Forth and
Orkney. He and the chamberlain of Scotland, John, are ordered to buy or
procure in exchange a castle in a good place beyond Forth, inasmuch as his
Majesty had decided to build one at "Tulliebotheville," but could find no
proper site.
The castle communicates by a
north avenue with the road from the Crook of Devon to Kinross, and by a
south one with that to Cleish. The Tulliebole estate belongs to Lord
Moncreiff, and the castle is a fine specimen of an old Scottish baronial
mansion. It bears the date of 1608, is in good repair, and is let to an
Edinburgh gentleman for summer quarters. Lord Moncreiff's grandfather, Sir
Henry Wellwood Moncreiff, the well-known leader in the Church, and minister
of St Cuthbert's, Edinburgh, used to retire here regularly in the summer
months, and dispense for a time the dignified hospitality of an old Scottish
baron.
The castle is surrounded by
some fine old timber, and at the north-east extremity of the policy, on the
outside, are the old churchyard and church of Tulliebole. As in the case of
Old Fossoway, however, there is nothing to be seen of the latter beyond the
foundations. A small obelisk is erected to the memory of the late Lord
Moncreiff, and forms a conspicuous object on the road from Crook of Devon to
Kinross. At about two miles from the former place, and a little beyond where
the Moncreiff monument comes into view, the highway is crossed by a rivulet
known as the "Trooper's Dub," and connected with which there is a tale. It
is said that a King of Scotland in former days, whilst passing in this
direction between Stirling and Falkland, was hospitably entertained at
Tulliebole Castle, whilst his retinue were feasted in a meadow by a burnside
at a little distance. A drinking-match ensued between one of the royal
guards and a retainer of the Laird of Tulliebole named Keltie. The latter
came off victorious, but the unfortunate trooper succumbed to the evil
effects of the protracted potation, and died on the scene of the debauch. He
was buried there, and to this day the rivulet or pool bears the name of the
" Trooper's Dub," and the field that of the "Trooper's Park." The ghost of
the unfortunate trooper was believed to haunt the spot, and up to a recent
period few country-people cared to pass the "Trooper's Dub" at night.
Another strange story, not suitable to be related here, has long been
current in Fossoway regarding the vengeance taken by an infuriated
blacksmith on a priest who had seduced his wife. The smith's anvil, which
figures prominently in the legend, is or used to be preserved in the parish
under the epithet of " the Reformation Clog."
The Crook of Devon is a
straggling village, and contains one little inn at which refreshments may be
obtained and horses put up. It used to be famous for its cattle fairs, and
certain inhabitants of the village connected with these, who were in the
habit of occasionally visiting the burgh of Culross, are dealt with severely
by the kirk-session of that parish as "outlandish drunkards" and disturbers
of the quiet of the town on the Sabbath-day. This was in 1634; and about the
same period it is recorded that a murder took place at one of these markets,
in consequence of a vassel of the Laird of Tulliebole having stabbed another
in a quarrel. The guilty party took to flight, but was pursued, captured,
and brought before his superior as lord of regality. He was condemned, and
executed the same evening on a rising ground at the east end of the village,
where the road to Old Fossoway branches off, and the place still bears the
name of the "Gallows Knowe."
The present church of
Fossoway is situated at the west end of the Crook of Devon, on the left-hand
side of the main highway proceeding from that village to the west. The Devon
here takes its curious turn in the same direction, and in about a mile
reaches the chasm at the Rumbling Bridge. Before arriving there it passes
through a rugged and precipitous defile, and about 450 yards above the
bridge occurs the singular phenomenon known as the "Devil's Mill." This is a
peculiar movement resembling in sound the clack of a mill, which, being
heard both Sunday and Saturday, has given rise to the epithet. It is only
heard to perfection in certain conditions of the water, and is caused by the
latter striking and rebounding from a particular point in the rock. This
sound is often very clear and distinct, and the surroundings are
sufficiently picturesque, partaking, indeed, somewhat of the terrific. The
Devil's Mill is situated within the grounds of the Rumbling Bridge Hotel,
the proprietor of which is the lessee also of the path leading down from the
bridge to the Cauldron Linn. Strangers desirous of visiting these places
obtain at the hotel passes which admit them to the grounds.
The highway from Kinross,
after passing through the Crook of Devon, continues in a south-west
direction for nearly a mile, till it meets the north road from Dunfermline
to Glen Devon and Crieff, close to the Rumbling Bridge station on the Alloa
and Kinross railway. A very fine view is obtained here of the lower Devon
valley, which stretches away in the distance to the west; whilst nearer to
the spectator the stream is bordered on the north by a finely wooded steep
bank on the estate of Blairhill (James R. Haig, Esq.), whose grounds extend
from the Rumbling Bridge down to the Cauldron linn. Here the traveller may
either turn to the right and visit the Rumbling Bridge, or he may proceed
south for about a mile to the village of Powmill, from which a road leads
almost due west through Blairingone to Alloa.
The shorter road from the
Crook of Devon to the Rumbling Bridge is by turning to the right, near the
west end of the village, and crossing the bridge which here spans the Devon.
Proceeding onwards for about half a mhe in a north-west direction, with the
mansion and grounds of Naemoors (John Mowbray, Esq.) on the right, the north
road is reached within 200 yards of the Rumbling Bridge Hotel. This
establishment long enjoyed deservedly a great reputation under the
management of the late Mr M'Ara, and its prestige is still maintained by lus
son. The locality has from time immemorial been an object of attraction, as
recited in the following couplet:—
"The Rumblin' Brigg and the
Cauldron Linn,
And the Links o' Devon water."
The Devil's Mill, a few
hundred yards higher up, has already been described. As regards the bridge
and the tremendous rift which it spans, it is one of those wondrous and
appalling places of which the traveller receives no warning from any
appearances in the adjoining scenery. Every adjunct is of the calm and
peaceful order, whether he approach the bridge from the Yetts of Muckhart or
from the south. It is not till he is actually crossing the structure and has
looked over the parapet that he becomes sensible of the terrific as well as
romantically picturesque character of the place. Down he gazes into the
stupendous defile with its precipitous walls of rock, at the bottom of which
the tortured and imprisoned stream struggles to force its way, but at last
emerges between a range of lofty and beautifully wooded banks. The height of
the parapet of the bridge above the bottom of the chasm is about 120 feet.
The present bridge is a
modern structure erected about seventy years ago. Beneath it, and completely
overshadowed by the modern erection, but quite visible from the banks above
or below, is an older bridge, 86 feet above the stream, having only a
breadth of 12 feet, and wholly unprovided with any parapet. It superseded an
old wooden bridge, and was erected in 1713 by a mason named William Gray, a
native of the parish of Saline, though Burns in his account of his visit to
this place speaks of the popular belief of the architect being no other than
the Devil, whose name is connected with so many of the grander features in
natural scenery. How a bridge could have been erected at such a spot without
any protecting ledge, and have been allowed to continue so long in that
condition, seems strange at the present day; but so it was, and there is no
record of any accident whatever having ever taken place whilst it formed the
medium of transit. It had doubtless been constructed at first with the view
only of accommodating passengers on foot and on horseback; but vehicles
certainly crossed it also, though in such a case it was customary for
travellers to descend, and the driver to go to his horse's head and lead him
over. Till within the last few years the old Rumbling Bridge was accessible
from the bank at the south-west corner, but a fatal accident which took
place here on one occasion led to the approach being rendered quite
impracticable.
From the Rumbling Bridge is a
pleasant walk of nearly two miles along the left bank of the Devon to the
Cauldron Linn. The river, after emerging from the rocky defile, flows in a
very mild and peaceful fashion, its clear rippling waters sometimes settling
into limpid pools of no great depth. The pathway lies close to the stream,
the bank of which on this side is very low. At last a low growl is heard,
increasing speedily into a loud roar. The river-bank rises suddenly in front
of the traveller, and, advancing a few steps, he finds himself on the side
of a terrific abyss, into which the hitherto placid stream precipitates
itself through a succession of cauldrons or excavations in the rock, and
then, after passing through these, takes a final and single leap over a
precipice into a pool below. The whole height of the fall is 88 feet, which
is divided into two nearly equal descents of 44 feet each, the upper one
comprising the passage of the stream from the summer of the cascade to its
issue from the last of the cauldrons, and the lower one consisting of a
sheer and unbroken descent.
The whole aspect of this
celebrated cascade leaves a derided impression of the horrible as well as
the sublime; and I can testify from my own experience that I never
approached the scene without a shudder. This may partly be due to a terrific
story, which, however, is perfectly authentic, in connection with the
Cauldron Linn.
About seventy years ago, or a
little more, Mr Harrowcr of Inzievar, in the parish of Torryburn, happened
with some friends to make an excursion to this place. It ought to be
mentioned, in passing, that at the very brink of the cascade it is possible
for an adventurous person to make a spring across from one side to the other
of the Devon, the breadth at this point barely amounting to 12 feet, whilst
an intervening rock may be used as a stepping-stone. Mr Harrower made the
attempt, but having spurs attached to his boots, one of these caught the
rock. He stumbled, fell, and was swept at once over the fall into one of the
cauldrons. Fortunately there was no great depth of water in it, and instead
of being carried through it with the stream, he was retained within its
narrow enclosure, and managed to gain an upright position and support
himself on a bed of sand. How to get out of the fearful abyss, however, was
the question, as the sides were quite precipitous, and it was utterly
impossible to do so unaided. A friend rushed off to the nearest farm—a
distance of at least half a mile—procured a rope, and hurried with it to the
spot, when, dreadful to relate, it proved too short to reach the unfortunate
man, who in the meantime was slowly and gradually sinking into the sand on
which he was standing. Another race had to be made, and a longer rope
procured. It was adjusted into a noose, thrown over his head and round his
waist, and the process of pulling up commenced. A new danger here presented
itself. The rope twisted itself round his neck, and he was in imminent
danger of being strangled. He had fortunately, however, the presence of mind
to interpose his hand between the cord and his neck, and thus escaped such a
catastrophe. At last, after having been nearly half an hour in the cauldron,
he was extricated, and safely landed on terra firma. A relative of mine met
him at the same spot a year or two afterwards, and received an account of
the adventure from his own lips.
Another story of a fall into
the Cauldron Linn is recorded of a fox. On the occasion of several runs in
this neighbourhood, Reynard had always managed here to elude his pursuers,
and even cause the destruction of several dogs, whose blind ardour made them
tumble headlong into the abyss. How he managed himself to escape such a fate
remained a mystery, till it was discovered that he contrived to lay hold of
a projecting twig above the linn, and there lie safe till danger of pursuit
was over. The huntsman, however, one evening cut off the branch. Poor
Reynard made his customary leap next day to his place of refuge, and of
course went headlong into the whirlpool below.
The garden at Blahhill comes
close to the edge of the Cauldron Linn on its right bank, and from an arbour
in an elevated corner the whole course of the cascade is overlooked. The
view of it is equally good from either side of the stream, but it is
generally witnessed from the south or Fossoway side. It is worth while to
descend the hill to the pool at the bottom of the fall and witness the
effect from below. In winter or in time of floods this is very striking.
When visiting at Harvieston,
Robert Burns took part in an excursion to the Rumbling Bridge and Cauldron
Linn, and, it would appear, rather disappointed his host and friends by
remaining silent and unimpressed by the grandeur of the scenery. Various
accounts and explanations have been given of the matter, but the simple
truth is, probably, that the bard, like other men, had from some cause or
other been out of humour, and indisposed to make himself agreeable or act
the part of a lion. |
