Literary Loch Lomond and the Trossachs: 7. Literary Glendochart

 

 

Crianlarich is an interesting hamlet consisting of a railway station, a grand inn, a shop and one or two houses. From it take the A82 to Tyndrum, five miles away.

Strathfillan

The Fillan is the remotest head-stream of the river Tay. It winds east-south-eastward from Tyndrum past Dalrigh and Crianlarich, until it expands to form Loch Dochart. Near the river’s left bank stand the ruins of an Austin priory church, St Fillan’s Priory where there are some remains of what appears to have been a once extensive building. The Priory is situated on the West Highland Way at Kirkton [which takes its name from the Priory], between Crianlarich and Tyndrum. It was dedicated, as a thank-offering for the victory of Bannockburn in 1314, to St Fillan by Robert Bruce. Nearby is a Holy Pool, as it is called, where the insane were dipped with certain ceremonies, and then left bound all night in the open air. If they were found loose the next morning, they were supposed to have been cured. Pennant added that the patients were generally found in the morning relieved of their troubles — by death. Scott alludes to this pool in Marmion:

“Thence to Saint Fillan’s blessed well,
Whose springs can frenzied dreams dispel,
And the crazed brain restore.”

St Fillan’s bell and crozier are now housed in the National Museum in Edinburgh. St Fillan is also associated with Killin where there was an old meal mill and St Fillans (qv) where there is another old Kirk.

Dalrigh is SE of Tyndrum. It was the scene on 11 August 1306 of a skirmish between Robert Bruce and Macdougal of Lorn, when the famous Brooch of Lorn, described in Scott’s Lord of the Isles, was torn from Bruce. In a note Scott describes the conflict

Robert Bruce, after his defeat at Methven, being hard pressed by the English, endeavoured, with the dispirited remnant of his followers, to escape from Breadalbane and the mountains of Perthshire into the Argyle¬shire Highlands. But he was encountered and repulsed, after a very severe engage¬ment, by the Lord of Lorn. Bruce’s per¬sonal strength and courage were never displayed to greater advantage than in this conflict. There is a tradition in the family of the MacDougals of Lorn, that their chieftain engaged in personal battle with Bruce himself, while the latter was employed in protecting the retreat of his men; that MacDougal was struck down by the king, whose strength of body was equal to his vigor of mind, and would have been slain on the spot, had not two of Lorn’s vassals, a father and son, whom tradition terms Mac-Keoch, rescued him by seizing the mantle of the monarch, and dragging him from his adversary. Bruce rid himself of these two foes by two blows with his redoubted battleaxe, but was so closely pressed by the other followers of Lorn that he was forced to abandon the mantle, and broach which fastened it clasped in the dying grasp of the MacKeochs. A studded broach said to have been that which King Robert lost upon this occasion was long preserved in the family of Macdougal and was lost in a fire consumed their temporary residence.
Great art and expense were bestowed upon the broach which secured the plaid, some [broaches] were as broad as a platter and engraved with curious designs and decorated with crystals or more valuable stones

In Scott’s Lord of the Isles there is a description of the Brooch:

“Whence the brooch of burning gold
That clasps the chieftain’s mantle fold,
Wrought and chased with rare device,
Studded fair with gems of price.”

Tyndrum

Standing 700 feet above sea-level, Tyndrum is described by Queen Victoria, on 22 Sept. 1873, as ‘a wild, picturesque, and desolate place in a sort of wild glen with green hills rising around. . . . There are a few straggling houses and a nice hotel at the station.’ Tyndrum is slightly more sophisticated these days.
It was there that the famous engineer John Rennie essayed his only recorded attempt at verse in his Journal for 1797:

Barren are Caledonia’s Hills,
Unfertile are her Plains,
Barelegged are her Brawney Nymphs,
Bare-arsed are her Swains

Samuel Rogers, found Tyndrum particularly civilised: “At Tyndrum heard a Highlander whistle ‘The Ploughboy’ produced but lately in the comic opera The Farmer. Have been waited on everywhere but here by waiters in philibegs and maids without stockings.” In 1803 the Wordsworths reached the inn shortly after Coleridge had left, sulkily tramping northwards. In 1814 Wordsworth was inspired to write a sonnet there. He contrasts the peaks of Tyndrum with the pastoral surroundings of classical Greece. The storm is an awesome reminder of Nature’s powers:

Suggested at Tyndrum in a Storm

ENOUGH of garlands, of the Arcadian crook,
And all that Greece and Italy have sung
Of Swains reposing myrtle groves among!
‘Ours’ couch on naked rocks, – will cross a brook
Swoln with chill rains, nor ever cast a look
This way or that, or give it even a thought
More than by smoothest pathway may be brought
Into a vacant mind. Can written book
Teach what ‘they’ learn? Up, hardy Mountaineer!
And guide the Bard, ambitious to be One
Of Nature’s privy council, as thou art,
On cloud-sequestered heights, that see and hear
To what dread Powers He delegates his part
On earth, who works in the heaven of heavens, alone.

 

Glendochart

From Tyndrum return to Crianlarich and follow the A85 to Killin. Glen Dochart can disappoint. Travelling westwards it may be found to be a progressive ‘falling off’ in the quality of scenery to be had at Crianlarich, until Killin itself is reached. In the other direction, it may be perceived to be relatively subdued after the tumultuous waterfalls of Killin. Dorothy Wordsworth considered ‘the face of the country not very interesting, although not unpleasing’ However, Glen Dochart has its charms. Fine roads traverse both Strathfillan and Glendochart. Indeed, Glen Dochart has always been a significant line of communication, at one time carrying an important military road, then a turnpike and the much-loved Callander and Oban railway.

The Wordsworths travelled this way in 1803:

William Miller Frazer RSA (1864-1961) "On the Dochart" [image: Anthony Woodd]

William Miller Frazer RSA (1864-1961) “On the Dochart” [image: Anthony Woodd]

We had about eleven miles to travel before we came to our lodging, and had gone five or six, almost always descending, and still in the same vale (Strath Fillan), when we saw a small lake before us, after the vale had made a bending to the left. It was about sunset when we came up to the lake; the afternoon breezes had died away, and the water was in perfect stillness. One grove-like island, with a ruin that stood upon it overshadowed by the trees, was reflected on the water. This building, which, on that beautiful evening, seemed to be wrapped up in religions quiet, we were informed had been raised for defence by some Highland chieftain. All traces of strength, or war, or danger are passed away, and in the mood in which we were we could only look upon it as a place of retirement and peace. The lake is called Loch Dochart.

The picturesque qualities of Loch Dochart also impressed William Gilpin:

About the middle of this ascent, the country becoming flat, we found the torrent arrested by a valley; and formed into a small lake, called Loch Dochart; the shores of which afforded us some fine scenery, both when we saw it in extent (for tho it was small, it had dimensions sufficient for any landscape) and when we saw only a portion of it. In the former situation, the distant hills made an agreeable boundary to the water. In the latter we had a huge promontory hanging over a castle, which stood upon an island at its foot.

The castle was for long held by the Campbells of Loch Awe, and was one of the homes of Duncan Campbell of the Cowl (Black Duncan of the Seven Castles). One winter, the Macgregors took it, by storming the castle across the ice. Seton Gordon points out that there is a poem which makes mention of the island castle and is dedicated to the Macgregor, chief of the Clan, in the Book of the Dean of Lismore. This was a miscellany of Scottish and Irish poetry, the oldest collection of such poetry still extant, compiled between 1512 and 1526. In addition Gordon relates a gory legend about the death of Fingal, which is connected with the next loch, Loch Iubhair

After leaving Crianlarich the foothills of Ben More begin to dominate the glen. Both Murray’s Handbook and the 1927 Blue Guide state that Glen Dochart is the setting for James Hogg’s Spectre of the Glen. This appears to be a reference to The Spectre’s Cradle Song one of the poems in The Queen’s Wake (1813). In a note Hogg explains:

I mentioned formerly that the tale of McGregor is founded on a popular Highland tradition – so also is this Song of the Spectre in the introduction to it, which to me, at least, gives it a peculiar interest. As I was once traveling up Glen Dochart, attended by Donald Fisher, a shep¬herd of that country, he pointed out to me some curious green dens, by the side of the large rivulet which descends from the back of Ben More, the name of which, in the Gaelic language, signifies the abode of the fairies. A native of that country, who is still living, happening to be benighted there one summer evening, without knowing that the place was haunted, wrapped himself in his plaid, and lay down to sleep till the morning. About midnight be was awaked by the most enchanting music; and on listening, he heard it to be the voice of a woman singing to her child. She sung the verses twice over, so that next morning he had several of them by heart. Fisher had heard them often recited in Gaelic, and he said they were wild beyond human conception. He remembered only a few lines, which were to the same purport with the Spirit’s Song here inserted, namely, that she (the singer) had brought her babe from the regions below to be cooled by the breeze of the world, and that they would soon be obliged to part, for the child was going to heaven, and she was to remain for a season in purgatory. I had not before heard any thing so truly romantic.

Hush, my bonny babe! hush, and be still!
Thy mother’s arms shall shield thee from ill.
Far have I borne thee, in sorrow and pain,
To drink the breeze of the world again.
The dew shall moisten thy brow so meek,
And the breeze of midnight fan thy cheek,
And soon shall we rest in the bow of the hill;
Hush, my bonny babe! hush, and be still!

Just beyond Loch Iubhair, where the long straight road turns a corner, is Coirechorach, the gable of a house on the site of an older house where Rob Roy lived under the protection of the Earl of Breadalbane. Rob Roy also stayed at Portnellan.

Returning home in 1804 Hogg came down Glen Dochart to Suie and, in his capacity as shepherd, rather than that of poet, expounds on the Earl of Breadalbane’s mastery of the art of keeping sheep, or, perhaps, his lack of it:

The whole of Breadalbane, with its adjacent glens is an excellent sheep country, and it being the first on which the improved breed of short sheep was tried, it has long produced large droves of the best wedders, most of which are bred at home; yet the draft ewes which that country sends to the south, are commonly of an inferior quality. This must either be owing to their age or bad treatment, as it is evident from the samples of their wedders what the country can do.

Hogg also comments favourably on the fine view to be had from the ancient pass, which connects Glen Dochart at Suie and Balquhidder.

Lady Sarah Murray paused at Suie, at a little distance from Luib, where she was shown a relic of St. Fillan, the ‘coigreach’ — the curved head of a pastoral staff. She gives way to her customary raptures, although the manner in which the sentence below is constructed doesn’t really make this very clear:

Glen Dochart is a region of mountains, moor, and water, till near, at the head of it, though all the way the banks of the Tay, at the bases of the mountains, are mostly ornamented with wood, and now and then gentlemen’s houses; but the forms of the lower hills, hanging over Loch Dochart, the verdure, and in short, the whole is enchanting. On the south bank of the lake, the huge sides of Ben More give great majesty and solemnity to the scene. The islands in the lake are extremely picturesque; particularly the one that is formed by a large rock, covered with wood, through which a ruin is seen. All the surrounding objects conspire to make Loch Dochart a view of the sublime and the beautiful united.

At Luib, sometimes Tynluib, is an old inn, which Wordsworth visited twice: in 1803 with his sister, Dorothy — a famous occasion when they complained about not getting any wine — and in 1814 when he returned with his wife and sister-in-law. The Wordsworths approached Killin on 5 Sept. 1803 from Luib and breakfasted there:

On Monday we set off again [from Luib] a little after six o’clock-a fine morning – eight miles to Killin – the river Dochart always on our left. The face of the country not very interesting, though not unpleasing, reminding us of some of the vales of the north of England, though meagre, nipped-up, or shrivelled compared with them. Within a mile or two of Killin the land was better cultivated, and, looking down the vale, we had a view of Loch Tay. . . .

Killin
Killin (or Kill Fin) is said to signify the “burial-place of Fingal,” whose purported grave is marked by a stone in the village. However the most noted authority on Breadalbane Rev Wm A. Gillies points out that many of the stories about him can be shown to be made up. A wooded island in the Dochart is the burying-place of the Macnabs, a clan which once dominated the surrounding country.

One of the most celebrated visitors to Killin was Charles Dickens in July 1841 who wrote enthusiastically to John Forster about the Falls of Lochay. Dickens must be thought of by most people as essentially urban, but he was an appreciative traveller who enjoyed both Scotland and the Lake District:

We left Lochearnhead last night and went to a place called Killin, eight miles from it, where we slept. I walked six miles with Fletcher after we got there to see a waterfall; and it was a magnificent sight, foaming and crashing down three great steeps of riven rock, leaping over the first as far as you could carry your eye, and rumbling and foaming down into a dizzy pool below you, with a deafening roar.

Lady Sarah Murray was, for once, defeated by these falls; she underestimated—as many another visitor must have done—the distance from Killin. By way of contrast Maria Edgeworth, visiting Killin in 1823, stated:

At Killin took a very pretty walk before tea, of about two miles and a half, and back again, to see a waterfall, which fully answered our expectations: you see I am very strong.

Joseph Farington who refers to the Falls of Lochay as the Falls of Coilig (probably “the wooded falls”) is lyrical about them in his Journal for October 1801:

The ride to it is beautiful. A little before I got to the fall I stopped at a cottage and took with me as a guide an elderly man who had all the civility, which is so common in the highlands. He told me he had been a soldier and had served abroad. Lord Breadalbane, to whom the estate of Coilig belongs, had made good pathways to three points from which the fall may be viewed. The first point is the finest and I was equally surprised and gratified on seeing so noble a fall accompanied as it is by rocks simple in their forms, in their height and breadth proportioned to the vast body of water which fell between them. Before I saw the fall I expected to find it a pleasing garden stream not having heard it spoken of by persons who have visited this country, and was the more surprised to find it of a size and character resembling the falls of Clyde, though not equal to the two principal of those falls (Cora Linn and Stonebyres), the accompaniments above the rocks being inferior in grandeur, but superior to Bonnington Linn the third and uppermost of those falls. It is only a few years since this fall was noticed sufficiently to make those who travelled through this Country acquainted with it, but it is now recommended to all who go to Killin in search of picturesque scenery.

The Falls of Lochay are nowadays part of a hydro electric power scheme. This is served by a power station pleasingly designed by the nationally known architects Robert Matthew, Johnson-Marshall and Partners. The other notable sight in Glen Lochay is the Moirlanich Longhouse, a late eighteenth century cottage of the kind which the Wordsworths and other early visitors must have found everywhere they went in Scotland. The house is looked after by the National Trust for Scotland; it is an instructive place to visit.

Strath Tay

Strath Tay

 

 

So much for Glen Lochay, but Killin is more frequently approached from Lix and entered by crossing the Dochart. Dr. John M’Culloch, the geologist describes the place:

Killin is the most extraordinary collection of extraordinary scenery in Scotland-unlike everything else in the country, and perhaps on earth, and a perfect picture gallery in itself, since you cannot move three yards without meeting a new landscape.. Fir trees, rocks, torrents, mills, bridges, houses-these produce the great bulk of the middle landscape, under endless combinations; while the distances more constantly are found in the surrounding hills, in their varied woods, in the bright expanse of the lake, and the minute ornaments of the distant valley, in the rocks and bold summit of Craigchailliach, and in the lofty vision of Ben Lawers, which towers like a huge giant in the clouds, the monarch of the scene.’

 

Farington was fascinated by the Falls of Dochart above the bridge at the entrance to the village:

We could not have seen them to more advantage, for the flood of waters, rushing in every direction not only filled the spaces formed by frequent inundations, but presented all the varieties which different interruptions could give it. The whole scene appeared from different situations singularly curious and interesting. On moving to different points on the rocks which divided the waters I was still more delighted while contemplating particular points of these extensive falls where I found the stream associated with mills and other objects on its margin, and a noble background of hills rising above them producing together most beautiful compositions.

Lady Sarah Murray is also highly enthusiastic:

The linn at Killin is very striking, and uncommon. The Tay advances to it from Glen Dochart, and widens to a very considerable breadth as it approaches Killin; which is a row of small houses facing the linn; the road only between it and the houses. The broad bed of the river is there choked up by large masses of rock lying on one another, in every kind of form and direction. These fragments of rock have been, most of them at least, washed thither by floods, and in the course of years have collected sufficient soil to unite many of them together, so as to form rough islands, covered with beautiful bushes, and trees of no great size; but sprouting from every crevice, branching and weeping over the rocks, in a style that delights the eye. Two small bridges, from rock to rock (but not in a line), lead from the south to the north side of the river. Just at the bridges the head of a small rocky high-banked island divides the river. This nook is the terra firma between the bridges; against which, and the rocks before it, the water dashes, foams, and roars to such a degree, at the time of flood, that it is scarcely possible to hear the sound of a human voice, even close to the ear. I wonder that the inhabitants of Killin are not all deaf (like those who are employed in iron or copper works), from the thundering noise of the rushing waters. Standing on either of the romantic bridges, the scene around is prodigiously grand, awful and striking.

Today the entrance to the village is much as these two travellers described it. At the far end of the bridge is St Fillan’s Mill, which posseses a water wheel. It is occupied by the Breadalbane Folklore Centre where further information about such local luminaries as Robert Kirk may be had. It was when he was in Balquhidder that Kirk started to collect fairy stories and at least one such tale in The Secret Commonwealth is set in Killin It suggests that visitors to Killin ought to exercise caution before going into an ale-house:

IT is notoriously known what in Killin, within Perthshire, fell tragically out with a Yeoman that liv’d hard by, who coming into a Companie within ane Ale-house, where a Seer sat at Table, that at the Sight of the Intrant Neighbour, the Seer starting, rose to go out of the House; and being asked the Reason of his haist, told that the intrant Man should die within two Days; at which News the named Intrant stabb’d the Seer, and was him self executed two Days after for the Fact.

Before leaving the bridge — notable in itself — a visit ought to be paid to Innis Bhuidhe. The key can be had from the Folklore Centre. Seton Gordon (1948) describes it:

Through the heart of Killin the Dochart thunders, and in heavy water its spray bathes the MacNabs’ ancestral burial ground of Inchbuie. Inch Buie, the Yellow Island, which may have been an ancient stronghold, is densely shaded by veteran beeches and pines and golden moss covers the ground.

You enter the island burial site and discover a magical place, cut off from the rest of the world. Dorothy Wordsworth found it ‘altogether uncommon and romantic — a remnant of ancient grandeur: extreme natural wildness — the sound of roaring water and withal, the ordinary half-village, half town bustle of an everyday place.’

The Wordsworths had approached Killin on 5 Sept. 1803 from Luib:

We crossed the Dochart by means of three bridges, which make one continued bridge of great length. On an island below the bridge is a gateway with tall pillars, leading to an old burying-ground belonging to some noble family’

At about the same time as the Wordsworths Samuel Rodgers was in the village. He ‘came to Killin, through which runs a rocky torrent to the lake. On the banks of this were several women and girls dipping their clothes in the river, and spreading them out on the green margin, like king’s daughters of old’

The bridge is used in both the original Casino Royale and the first re-make of The Thirty-nine Steps. At the Folklore Centre a Heritage Trail begins. It draws attention to various interesting places in the village; literary visitors will find it convenient to follow the trail to see Fingal’s Grave, Sròn a’ Chlachain, the Parish Church and Finlarig Castle. From the Main Street turn left (opposite the bakery) into Manse Road and then turn right and right again to join Fingal Street. Fingal’s Stone is on the left through a gate. It is said to mark Fingal’s grave, if he ever had a grave.

Fingal, Fionn mac Cumhaill, is a mythical hero of old Gaelic stories which were given a new life in the last quarter of the C18 by James Macpherson who published what he called translations of them. In practice, he was helped by Gaelic speakers to collect the stories, mainly in the Hebrides, and then ‘enhanced’ them in various ways. One of the greatest critics of their authenticity at the time was Dr Samuel Johnson, but it is now accepted that they were, at least, based on Celtic originals.

There are a number of sites in Highland Perthshire associated with Fingal. It is said that ‘Fingal had twelve castles in the crooked glen of large stones.’ This is taken to be Glen Lyon, north of Loch Tay, and well outside the National Park. Near Fortingall, at the mouth of Glen Lyon is ‘an Dun Geal’ (the white fort) where Fingal was supposed to live. These forts or castles occur throughout the district between the Forth and the Tay (the Pictish province of Fortrenn). The first person to draw wider attention them was Thomas Pennant (1726–1798). He secured information about them from the Rev. James Stuart, minister of Killin. In Glenlyon these defences are called “Caistealan nam Fiann” to this day. William A. Gillies points out:

Legend and heroic Gaelic poetry have associated these round forts with the Fiann, who are believed to have been bands of warriors acting under the rule of a leader, or chief. The most famous of these leaders was Fionn, the renowned Fingal of Celtic tales.

In Killin Pennant described the well-preserved stone circle consisting of six stones found in the field called Kinnell Park in the grounds of Kinnell House (on the other side of the Dochart from the village).

A sub-Wordsworthian American poet, Robert Edward Lee Gibson (b.1864) celebrated Fingal’s Grave in 1901

OFT have I seen the spot of his repose
Whose might all men acknowledged – Morven chief.
Fingal, once glorious, but departed now,
The most deplored of our lamented kings.

Fingal’s Stone is a good starting point for the ascent of Sròn a’ Chlachain which involves a climb of 400 m. It was probably in the year 1646 that Iain Lom, the distinguished Gaelic poet composed a lament for the young Keppoch chief who was killed in a skirmish at Sròn a’ Chlachain the prominent hill above Killin. The poet’s father was also killed in this skirmish, but protocol required the main emphasis to be on the chief’s death. The hill affords magnificent views of Loch Tay.

At the north-eastern end of the village is the distinctive white-harled octagonal church built in 1744 by the mason Thomas Clark to a design by John Douglas of Edinburgh. Inside it has been altered from a ‘wide’ church to a ‘long’ church. In front of the church is a monument to Rev James Stewart (1701-89), the highly respected minister of Killin, who first translated the New Testament into Scots Gaelic (published 1767). Prior to this Gaelic was, in effect, suppressed although Robert Kirk had done much valuable work in making Irish Bibles understandable. Indeed, Dr Samuel Johnson was one Stewart’s admirers and offered to help him in any way he could. His son John Stuart (1743–1821), Gaelic scholar and botanist, was born at the manse on 31 July 1743. Apart from his interest in the Gaelic language, in which capacity he accompanied Thomas Pennant throughout the Highlands and Islands in 1771 and saw Duncan Ban MacIntyre’s poems through the press, Stuart was also a devoted student of botany and lichenology, and identified many of Perthshire’s rare alpine plants. Pennant’s first tour of Scotland was unfairly criticised for superficiality, so he made sure, by engaging Stuart that he was able to interpret place names and describe antiquities.

Stuart’s sister married James McLagan (1728–1805), folklorist, who was one of the first collectors of the poems of Ossian. Their eldest son, James, became professor of divinity at King’s College, Aberdeen. This makes the manse at Killin a particularly literary household.

From the Church turn right into Pier Road and cross the River Lochay to reach Finlarig Castle. The former pier is a reminder of the days when a steamer plied on Loch Tay, and the Killin Branch line came meet it. Finlarig is a picturesque ruined castle at the head of Loch Tay, An ancient seat of the Earl of Breadalbane’s ancestors, it figures in Scott’s Fair Maid of Perth as the death-place of the chief of the clan Quhele:

A distant sound was heard from far up the lake, even as it seemed from the remote and distant glens out of which the Dochart and the Lochy pour their streams into Loch Tay. It was in a wild, inaccessible spot, where the Campbells at a subsequent period founded their strong fortress of Finlarig, that the redoubted commander of the Clan Quhele drew his last breath; and, to give due pomp to his funeral, his corpse was now to be brought down the loch to the island assigned for his temporary place of rest.

The castle is a narrow three-story ivy-clad pile, with a square tower at one corner. Adjoining it is the buryingvault of the Breadalbane family; surrounding it is an undulating park with grand old trees. This inspired Wordsworth’s sonnet of 1814, The Earl of Breadalbane’s Ruined Mansion and Family Burial Place, near Killin. Sara Hutchinson’s letter from Killin refers to the place:

There is an ancient residence in ruin of the earls of Breadalbane & a burial place with finer and older wood than any I have seen in Scotland and not often surpassed in England

The sonnet runs as follows:

WELL sang the Bard who called the grave, in strains
Thoughtful and sad, the “narrow house”. No style
Of fond sepulchral flattery can beguile
Grief of her sting; nor cheat, where he detains
The sleeping dust, stern Death. How reconcile
With truth, or with each other, decked remains
Of a once warm Abode, and that ‘new’ Pile,
For the departed, built with curious pains
And mausoleum pomp? Yet here they stand
Together —’mid trim walks and artful bowers,
To be looked down upon by ancient hills,
That, for the living and the dead, demand
And prompt a harmony of genuine powers;
Concord that elevates the mind, and stills.

A different path opposite the castle leads back to the village. This concludes the visit to a village with considerable literary associations.

 

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