it was said, with the intention of "obstructing the Act, and raising discontents in the country."[1] The total sum asked for was £587,000, but only £152,000 was granted. Among the claimants I found "Maclean of Lochbuie, Bailie of the Bailiery of Morovis and Mulerois, £500." His name does not appear among the list of those whose claims were allowed.[2]
Though in 1759 the castle was described as ruinous, nevertheless it had been inhabited by the laird a few years earlier. Over the entrance of the house in which he received Johnson is inscribed: "Hæc domus [a word effaced] erat per Johannem McLaine De Lochbuy Anno Dom. 1752." It has, in its turn, given way to a more modern mansion, and has been converted into stables, coach-houses, and hay-lofts. The castle was built on the edge of the sea, "four-square to all the winds that blew." The walls, nine or ten feet thick, "are probably as old as the fourteenth century, but the upper part seems to have been modified in the seventeenth."[3] The ivy has climbed up to the top, nevertheless much of the stonework is still seen. It would be a pity if it were suffered to cover the walls on all sides. Hard by a little stream shaded with trees makes its way into the loch. To the north-west rises the steep hill of Dun Buy. "Buy in Erse," says Boswell, "signifies yellow. The hill being of a yellowish hue, has the epithet of buy." This hue I altogether failed to discover; perhaps it is only seen in the autumn. On the bright summer's day in which I saw the castle, it seemed to be almost unsurpassed in the pleasantness of its seat. Tall trees grew near it, their leaves rustling in the wind, and the lights and shadows dancing on the ground as the branches swayed to and fro, while in front lay the loch with its foaming waves. The old ruin looked as if it had been set there to add to the beauty of the scene, not for a place where lairds and their pipers should let down luckless folk into dismal pits. In the inside there was gloom enough. A few well-worn stone steps lead up to the entrance. The strong old door studded with iron nails which had withstood the storms of many a long year, has at length yielded to time, and been replaced. Behind it is an iron grate secured by bolts and by an oaken bar that is drawn forth from a hole in the wall. Passing on I went into a gloomy vault known as the store-room. Not a
