But Inverness has a history also. It is believed to have been one of those primitive strongholds--in this case, of the Picts--which were so often to be found at the junction of waters. To this place came St. Columba, in the year 565. Here, too, was the castle of Macbeth, in which he murdered Duncan, which stood until it was demolished by Malcolm Canmore, who built on its site a larger one. William the Lion, in 1214, granted the town a charter, by which it became a royal burgh. Of the Dominican abbey, founded in 1233, nothing remains. The town was burned in 1411, by Donald of the Isles, and when fifteen years later, James I held a parliament in the castle, Scottish statecraft was still in a primitive stage of evolution, for three of the northern chieftains summoned to the council were executed for daring to assert their independence. In 1652, Queen Mary was denied admittance into the castle, but she remembered the slight and caused the governor to be hanged afterwards. Cromwell came hither also and built a great fort. In Inverness gathered the Jacobites who followed both the Old and the Young Pretender. Inverness has had its ups and downs, and, as a Western orator once declared of his district, has, besides raising much ham, raised also much more of what General Sherman named as the synonym for war. To come to Inverness without visiting Culloden would be like going to Rome without seeing St. Peters; for at Culloden, where was fought one of the decisive battles of the world, the death-blow was given to Scottish feudalism. There the clan system was knocked to pieces. Then, also, for the benefit and blessing of the whole world, the Highlanders were scattered over the earth, to do what they certainly have done well--a goodly share of the world’s work. Now for Culloden! We--that is, four men of us--hired a horse, driver, and carriage, and rode out to the desolate moor, which is usually called “Culloden” by strangers and “Drummossie Moor” by the natives. It is a tableland lying six miles northeast of Inverness and not far from the Moray Firth. As we approached it, we could discern the sunken lines of the trenches, in which about eighteen hundred of the clansmen, killed in battle, were buried. In 1881, these trenches of the different clans were marked by rough memorial stones giving the clan names. At one part of the field was a stream of water, to which the poor wounded wretches crawled to slake that horrible thirst which comes so quickly to a soldier who has lost blood and whose veins are drying up.