THE ancient castle of
Ardstinchar, chief seat of the old Bargany Kennedys, still keeps guard
over Ballantrae, and lifts up its solitary tower by way of protest
against modern spoliation But, although man may spoil his own works, he
cannot well spoil the works of Nature. And we may confidently believe
that the sweet valley of the Stinchar looks as pretty to-day as ever it
did. Starting, then, from the foot of the old Castle Crag, and glancing
across at the "grey stones of Garleffin," keeping their watch of
centuries by the graves of the dead, the road pursues its course up the
river. The first object of interest is Laggan House, about two miles up
the valley. Then we see the ruins of the former Church of Ballantrae at
Kirkholtn, near the junction of the Tig with the Stinchar. Then, a
little farther on, and lying more into the heart of the hill, we see the
small one storey farm house of Knockdow where Peden was staying when he
was seized and taken to the Bass. Next, the road turns sharply to the
left, and we find ourselves facing the old Castle of Knockdolian with
the modern mansion beside it, while Knockdolian Hill itself rises
straight above both, with the little knoll of Dunniwick round which the
fairies used to dance on moonlight nights. This is, indeed, a romantic
part of the valley.
Leaving Knockdolian, we
soon reach the tidy village of Colmonell, enjoying one of the prettiest
situations of all the pretty villages of South Ayrshire. It stands on a
rising ground above the Stinchar, looking down to the green hill of
Knockdolian, and up to the woods of Pinmore, while in the horizon may be
seen the lofty hills of Barr, and even of far away Galloway. Its praise
has been often sung by local bards, one of whom apostrophises it thus:—
"A beauty, in a beauteous
dell,
Serenely fair sits Colmonell."
At the entrance of the
village stand the ruins of the old Castle of Kirkhill, with the modern
mansion beside it, while across the valley we see the still older Castle
of Craigneil, perched on its limestone rock; and it is curious to
observe the modern quarry, which, with customary irreverence, was so
near bringing the whole of this hoary fortress to the ground. One of the
stories connected with Craigneil runs as follows:—Thomas Dalrymple,
brother to the laird of Stair, was riding quietly one night near the
bridge of Girvan, when he unfortunately was met by my Lord of Cassillis
and his men. Dalrymple, being of the Bargany party, saw that he was in
for it, and made off, but not being well horsed, was taken. " My Lord of
Cassillis," says the old historian quite calmly, as if he were narrating
a mere matter of course, "tuik him to Craigneil, and on the morne gaiff
him ane Assyise, and hangit him on ane tree besyd the yett of Craigneil.
He was ane pretty little manne, and werry kind, and had never offendit
manne."
Pursuing our way, we pass
the Dangart Glen, where Matthew MlIlwraith was killed in the days of the
persecution; and Pinwherry Castle, standing gaunt and bare near the
junction of the Duisk with the Stinchar. Looking back from this point,
Knockdolian seems like a huge pyramid placed in the middle of the
valley, to dam back the waters of the stream. It is, indeed, the king of
the Stinchar valley from whatever point it is viewed, and it looks every
inch a king. But now we approach the place where the valley puts on its
fairest robes. Hitherto the hills have been bare and pastoral, but now
they become clothed with wood, while the valley itself contracts till it
becomes a veritable Pass, through which the river, the road, and the
railway have some difficulty in forcing their way. The beauty reaches
its climax at Pinmore, where the Assel joins the Stinchar, making a
"meeting of the waters," quite as beautiful in its way as the Irish one
so famous in song.
But the beauty does not
continue. Soon the Stinchar finds its way up among the bare hills of
Barr, while the road to Girvan, after quitting the Assel, climbs upwards
past Letterpin, and the old British fort of Dinviny till it comes in
sight of the blue sea, with Ailsa and Arran in the background. It is
from this point that the most picturesque view of Girvan is to be
obtained. Indeed, at one part of the road the town seems set in a frame
of hills, as if Nature herself were anxious to call the attention of
every traveller to its beauty.