Notes

Abstract

ON the 3rd of this month there passed away a Scottish parish minister, who though not himself a scientific man has come in contact with three successive generations of men of science whom the love of travel or of geology has led to the picturesque island of Skye. The Rev. Dr. Donald Mackinnon was the third of his family who have been ministers of the parish of Strath. His grandfather was appointed to the incumbency in 1777, and held it for forty-nine years. His father took the office in 1826, and held it for thirty years, until he himself succeeded to it in 1856. The parish has thus been presided over by the same family for the long period of 110 years. Unfortunately none of the numerous family of the deceased clergyman have entered the Church, so that the interesting ecclesiastical connection of the family with the parish now comes to an end. Dr. Mackinnon was a noble type of the true old Highland gentleman, dignified, courteous, kindly, and always the same, whether conversing with crofter or countess. He was delighted to tell his reminiscences of the old geologists. It was his uncle who put into visible expression by his famous but unspeakable “device of the pots”(as Barbour has it) the universal indignation of Skye at the account of the island and its inhabitants given by the geologist Macculloch, in his book on the Highlands and Western Islands. It was in his father's house that Sedgwick and Murchison were entertained when they passed through the north-west Highlands in 1827, and he had some amusing stories about the impression made on himself and his brothers by the doings of these two great brethren of the hammer. In later years geologists and other students of science, as well as artists and distinguished men of many kinds, have enjoyed the hospitality of his home at Kilbride under the shadow of the great mountain, and in sight of the gleaming Atlantic. Only a few months ago he had an opportunity of renewing his early love for mineralogy and geology, and while riding on his favourite quiet cob, looking after his farm-servants as they harvested between the showers of a Skye September, he would stop now and again to point out geological features that had been familiar and interesting to him from boyhood. He belonged to a type of Scottish clergyman that is slowly disappearing, and carries with him the affectionate regrets of everyone who was privileged to enjoy his friendship.