I deliberately sought out Erchie one day in order to elicit his views upon the Royal progress through the Western Isles, and found him full of the subject, with the happiest disposition to eloquence thereon.

“Man! I’m that gled I’m to the fore to see this prood day for Scotland,” said he. “I’m daein’ hardly onything but read the mornin’ and evenin’ papers, and if the Royal yacht comes up the length o’ Yoker I’m gaun doon mysel’ to wave a hanky. ‘His Majesty in Arran. Great Reception,’ says they. ‘His Majesty in Glorious Health. Waves his hand to a Wee Lassie, and Nearly Shoots a Deer,’ says they. ‘His Majesty’s Yacht Surrounded by the Natives. Escape round the Mull. Vexation of Campbeltown, and Vote of Censure by the Golfers of Machrihanish,’ says they. Then the telegrams frae ‘Oor Special Correspondent’: ‘Oban, i p.m.—It is confidently expected that the Royal yacht will come into the bay this evenin’ in time for tea. The esplanade is being washed with eau-de-Cologne, and a’ the magistrates is up at Rankine’s barber shop gettin’ a dry shampoo.’ ‘Oban, 1.30 p.m.—A wire frae Colons says the Royal yacht is about to set sail for Oban. Tremendous excitement prevails here, and the price o’ hotel bedrooms is raised 200 per cent. It is decided to mobilise the local Boys’ Brigade, and engage Johnny M’Coll to play the pipes afore the King when he’s comin’ ashore.’ ‘6 p.m.—The Royal yacht has just passed Kerrara, and it is now certain that Oban will not be visited by the Royal party. All the flags have been taken down, and scathing comments on the extraordinary affair are anticipated from the local press.’

“Maybe ye wadna think it, but his Majesty’s gaun roond the West Coast for the sake o’ his health.

“‘Ye’ll hae to tak’ a month o’ the rest cure,’ the doctors tellt him, ‘a drap o’ claret wine to dinner, and nae worry aboot business.’

“‘Can I afford it?’ said his Majesty, that vexed-like, for he was puttin’ aff his coat and rollin’ up his sleeves to start work for the day.

“‘There’s nae choice in the maitter,’ said the doctors; ‘we order it.’

“‘But can I afford it?’ again said his Majesty. ‘Ye ken yoursels, doctors, I have had a lot o’ expense lately, wi’ trouble in the hoose, and wi’ the Coronation and aething and another. Could I no’ be doin’ the noo wi’ Setturday-to-Monday trips doon the watter?’

“But no; the doctors said there was naethin’ for him but rest. So his Majesty had to buy a new topcoat and a yachtin’ bunnet, and start oot on the Victoria and Albert.

“It’s a twa-funnelled boat, but I’m tellt that, bein’ Government built, yin 6’ the funnels has a blaw-doon, and they daurna light the furnace below’t if the win’s no’ in a certain airt.

“The yacht made first for the Isle o’ Man, and wasna five meenutes in the place when the great novelist, Hall Corelli or Mary Caine, or whichever it is, was aboard o’ her distributin’ hand-bills advertisin’ the latest novel, and the King took fright, and left the place as soon as he could.

“I’m tellin’ ye it’s a gey sair trauchle bein’ a King. The puir sowl thought the Hielan’s wad be a nice quate place where naebody wad bother him, and so he set sail then for Arran.

“‘What is that I see afore me?’ said he, comin’ up past Pladda.

“The captain put his spy-gless to his e’e, and got as white’s a cloot.

“‘It’s your Majesty’s joyous and expectant subjects,’ says he. ‘They’ve sixty-seven Gleska steamers oot yonder waitin’ on us, and every skipper has his hand on the string o’ the steam-hooter.’

“‘My God!’ groaned the puir King, ‘I thought I was sent awa’ here for the guid o’ my health.’

“Before he could say knife, a’ the Gleska steamers and ten thoosan’ wee rowin’-boats were scrapin’ the pent aff the sides o’ the Victoria and Albert, and half a million Scottish taxpayers were cheerin’ their beloved Sovereign, Edward VII., every mortal yin o’ them sayin’, ‘Yon’s him yonder!’ and p’intin’ at him.

“‘Will I hae to shoogle hands wi’ a’ that crood?’ he asked the captain o’ the Victoria and Albert, and was told it wad dae if he jist took aff his kep noo and then.

“And so, takin’ aff his kep noo and then, wi’ a’ the Gleska steamers and the ten thoosan’ wee rowin’-boats hingin’ on to the side o’ the yacht, and half a million devoted subjects takin’ turn aboot at keekin’ in through the port-holes to see what he had for dinner, his Majesty sailed into Brodick Bay.

“‘The doctors were right,’ says he; ‘efter a’ there’s naething like a rest cure; it’s a mercy we’re a’ spared.’

“The following day his Majesty hunted the deer in Arran. I see frae the papers that he was intelligently and actively assisted in this by the well-known ghillies, Dugald M’Fadyen, Donald Campbell, Sandy M’Neill, and Peter M’Phedran.

“They went up the hill and picked oot a nice quate he-deer, and drove it doon in front o’ where his Majesty sat beside a stack o’ loaded guns. His Majesty was graciously pleased to tak’ up yin o’ the guns, and let bang at the deer.

“‘Weel done! That wass gey near him,’ said Dugald M’Fadyen, strikin’ the deer wi’ his stick to mak’ it stop eatin’ the gress.

“His Majesty fired a second time, and the deer couldna stand it ony langer, but went aff wi’ a breenge.

“‘Weel, it’s a fine day to be oot on the hull onywye,’ says M’Phedran, resigned-like, and the things that the heid ghillie Campbell didna say was terrible.

“The papers a’ said the deer was shot, and a bloody business too; but it wasna till lang efter the cauld-clye corpse o’t was found on the hill.

“‘Here it is!’ said M’Fadyen.

“‘I daursay it is,’ said M’Neill.

“‘It’ll hae to be it onywye,’ said the heid man, and they had it weighed.

“If it was sold in Gleska the day it would fetch ten shillin’s a-pound.

“If there’s ae thing I’ve noticed mair nor anither aboot Hielan’ ghillies, it’s that they’ll no’ hurt your feelin’s if they can help it. I’m Hielan’ mysel’; my name’s MacPherson; a flet fit but a warm hert, and I ken.

“Meanwhile Campbeltoon washed it’s face, put a clove in its mooth, and tried to look as spruce as it could for a place that has mair distilleries than kirks. The Royal veesit was generally regairded as providential, because the supremacy o’ Speyside whiskies over Campbeltoon whiskies o’ recent years wad hae a chance o’ being overcome if his Majesty could be prevailed on to gang through a’ the distilleries and hae a sample frae each o’ them.

“It was to be a gala day, and the bellman went roond the toon orderin’ every loyal ceetizen to put oot a flag, cheer like onything when the King was gaun to the distilleries, and bide inside their hooses when he was comin’ back frae them. But ye’ll no’ believ’t—the yacht passed Campbeltoon!

“The Provost and Magistrates and the hale community was doon on the quay to cairry the Royal pairty shouther-high if necessary, and when they saw the Victoria and Albert—they cheered sae lood they could be heard the length o’ Larne.

“‘Whit’s that?’ said his Majesty.

“‘By the smell o’t I wad say Campbeltoon,’ said his skipper, ‘and that’s mair o’ your Majesty’s subjects, awfu’ interested in your recovery.’

“‘Oh man!’ said the puir King, nearly greetin’, ‘we divna ken whit health is, ony o’ us, till we lose it. Steam as far aff frae the shore as ye can, and it’ll maybe no’ be sae bad.’

“So the yacht ran bye Campbeltoon.

“The folk couldna believe’t at first.

“‘They must hae made a mistake,’ says they; ‘perhaps they didna notice the distillery lums,’ and the polis sergeant birled his whustle by order of the Provost, to ca’ the King’s attention, but it was o’ no avail. A rale divert!

“The yacht went on to Colonsay.

“That’s the droll thing aboot this trip o’ his Majesty’s; it’s no’ ony nice, cheery sort o’ places he gangs to at a’, but oot-o’-the-wye wee places wi’ naethin’ aboot them but hills and things—wee trashy places wi’ nae nice braw new villas aboot them, and nae minstrels or banjo-singers on the esplanade singin’ ‘O! Lucky Jim!’ and clautin’ on the bawbees. I divna suppose they had half a dizzen flags in a’ Colonsay, and ye wad fancy the King’s een’s no’ that sair lookin’ at flags but whit he wad be pleased to see mair o’ them.

“Colonsay! Man, it’s fair peetifu’! No’ a Provost or a Bylie in’t to hear a bit speech frae; nae steamboat trips to gang roond the Royal yacht and keek in the port-holes; but everything as quate as a kirk on a Setturday mornin’.

“A’ the rest o’ Scotland wanted to wag flags at his Majesty Edward VII., and here he maun put up at Colonsay! The thing was awfu’ badly managed.

“If Campbeltoon was chawed at the yacht passin’ withoot giein’ a cry in, whit’s to describe the vexation o’ Oban?

“Oban had its hert set on’t. It never occurred to the mind o’ Oban for wan meenute that the King could pass the ‘Charin’ Cross o’ the Hielan’s’ withoot spendin’ a week there at the very least, and everything was arranged to mak’ the Royal convalescent comfortable.

“The bay was fair jammed wi’ yachts, and a’ the steam-whustles were oiled. The hotels were packed to the roof wi’ English tourists, some o’ them sleepin’ under the slates, wi’ their feet in the cisterns, and gled to pay gey dear for the preevilege o’ breathin’ the same air as Edward VII.

“Early in the day somebody sent the alarmin’ tidin’s frae Colonsay that the Victoria and Albert micht pass Oban efter a’, and to prevent this, herrin’-nets were stretched aff Kerrara to catch her if ony such dastardly move was made.

“But it was nae use; Oban’s in sackcloth and ashes.

“‘Where are we noo?’ asked the Royal voyager, aff Kerrara. ‘Is this Shingleton-on-the-Sea?’

“‘No, your Majesty,’ says the skipper of the Royal yacht, ‘it’s Oban, the place whaur the German waiters get their education.’

“‘Heavens!’ cried his Majesty, shudderin’; ‘we’re terrible close; put a fire under the aft funnel at a’ costs and get past as quick as we can.’

“It was pointed oot to his Majesty that the toon was evidently expectin’ him, and so, to mak’ things pleasant, he ordered the steam pinnace to land the week’s washin’ at the Charin’. Cross o’ the Hielan’s—while the Victoria and Albert went on her way to Ballachulish.”