_EARLIER VISITS TO SCOTLAND._


FIRST VISIT TO SCOTLAND.


  _On Board the Royal George Yacht,
  Monday, August 29, 1842._

At five o’clock in the morning we left _Windsor_ for the railroad,
the Duchess of Norfolk, Miss Matilda Paget, General Wemyss, Colonel
Bouverie, and Mr. Anson following us. Lord Liverpool, Lord Morton,
and Sir James Clark, who also accompany us, had already gone on to
_Woolwich_.

We reached _London_ at a quarter to six, got into our carriages, and
arrived at _Woolwich_ before seven. Albert and I immediately stepped
into our barge. There was a large crowd to see us embark. The Duke
of Cambridge, Lord Jersey, Lord Haddington, Lord Bloomfield, and Sir
George Cockburn were present in full uniform. Sir George handed me into
the barge. It was raining very hard when we got on board, and therefore
we remained in our sitting-room.

I annex a list of our squadron:—

 1. The ship “Pique,” 36 guns.

 2. The sloop “Daphne,” 18 guns--(both of which join us at the _Nore_).

 3. The steam-vessel “Salamander” (with the carriages on board).

 4. The steam-vessel “Rhadamanthus” (Lord Liverpool and Lord Morton on
 board).

 5. The steam-vessel “Monkey” Tender, which has towed us till nine
 o’clock (Mr. Anson and the equerries on board).

 6. The steam-vessel “Shearwater,” which is now towing us (Sir James
 Clark on board).

 7. The steam-vessel “Black Eagle” (which has the ladies on board, and
 which tows us in front of the “Shearwater”).

 8. The steam-vessel “Lightning” (with the Jäger Benda, and our two
 dogs, “Eôs” and “Cairnach,” on board) in front, which has gone to take
 our barge on board from the “Pique.”

 9. The steam-vessel “Fearless” (for survey).

This composes our squadron, besides which the Trinity-House steamer
goes with us, and, also, a packet. Innumerable little pleasure
steamboats have been following us covered with people.


  _Tuesday, August 30._

We heard, to our great distress, that we had only gone 58 miles since
eight o’clock last night. How annoying and provoking this is! We
remained on deck all day lying on sofas; the sea was very rough towards
evening, and I was very ill. We reached _Flamborough Head_ on the
Yorkshire coast by half-past five.


  _Wednesday, August 31._

At five o’clock in the morning we heard, to our great vexation, that we
had only been going three knots an hour in the night, and were 50 miles
from _St. Abb’s Head_.

We passed _Coquet Island_ and _Bamborough Castle_ on the Northumberland
coast, which I was unfortunately unable to see; but from my cabin
I saw _Ferne Island_, with Grace Darling’s lighthouse on it; also
_Rocky Islands_ and _Holy Island_. At half-past five I went on deck,
and immediately lay down. We then came in sight of the Scotch coast,
which is very beautiful, so dark, rocky, bold, and wild, totally unlike
our coast. We passed _St. Abb’s Head_ at half-past six. Numbers of
fishing-boats (in one of which was a piper playing) and steamers full
of people came out to meet us, and on board of one large steamer they
danced a reel to a band. It was a beautiful evening, calm, with a fine
sunset, and the air so pure.

One cannot help noticing how much longer the days are here than they
were in _England_. It was not really dark till past eight o’clock,
and on Monday and Tuesday evening at _Windsor_ it was nearly dark by
half-past seven, quite so before eight. The men begged leave to dance,
which they did to the sound of a violin played by a little sailor-boy;
they also sang.

We remained on deck till twenty-five minutes to nine, and saw many
bonfires on the Scotch coast--at _Dunbar_--Lord Haddington’s place,
_Tyninghame_, and at other points on the coast. We let off four
rockets, and burned two blue lights. It is surprising to see the
sailors climb on the bowsprit and up to the top of the mast-head--this
too at all times of the day and night. The man who carried the lantern
to the main-top ran up with it in his mouth to the top. They are so
handy and so well conducted.

We felt most thankful and happy that we were near our journey’s end.


  _Thursday, September 1._

At a quarter to one o’clock, we heard the anchor let down--a welcome
sound. At seven we went on deck, where we breakfasted. Close on one
side were _Leith_ and the high hills towering over _Edinburgh_, which
was in fog; and on the other side was to be seen the _Isle of May_
(where it is said Macduff held out against Macbeth), the _Bass Rock_
being behind us. At ten minutes past eight we arrived at _Granton
Pier_, where we were met by the Duke of Buccleuch, Sir Robert Peel and
others. They came on board to see us, and Sir Robert told us that the
people were all in the highest good-humour, though naturally a little
disappointed at having waited for us yesterday. We then stepped over a
gangway on to the pier, the people cheering, and the Duke saying that
he begged to be allowed to welcome us. Our ladies and gentlemen had
landed before us, safe and well, and we two got into a barouche, the
ladies and gentlemen following. The Duke, the equerries, and Mr. Anson
rode.

There were, however, not nearly so many people in _Edinburgh_, though
the crowd and crush were such that one was really continually in fear
of accidents. More regularity and order would have been preserved had
there not been some mistake on the part of the Provost about giving
due notice of our approach. The impression _Edinburgh_ has made upon
us is very great; it is quite beautiful, totally unlike anything else
I have seen; and what is even more, Albert, who has seen so much, says
it is unlike anything _he_ ever saw; it is so regular, everything built
of massive stone, there is not a brick to be seen anywhere. The _High
Street_, which is pretty steep, is very fine. Then the Castle, situated
on that grand rock in the middle of the town, is most striking. On the
other side the _Calton Hill_, with the _National Monument_, a building
in the Grecian style; _Nelson’s Monument_; _Burns’ Monument_; the
_Gaol_; the _National School_, &c.; all magnificent buildings, and
with _Arthur’s Seat_ in the background, over-topping the whole, form
altogether a splendid spectacle. The enthusiasm was very great, and
the people very friendly and kind. The Royal Archers Body Guard[2] met
us and walked with us the whole way through the town. It is composed
entirely of noblemen and gentlemen, and they all walked close by the
carriage; but were dreadfully pushed about. Amongst them were the Duke
of Roxburgh and Lord Elcho on my side; and Sir J. Hope on Albert’s
side. Lord Elcho[3] (whom I did not know at the time) pointed out the
various monuments and places to me as we came along. When we were out
of the town, we went faster. Every cottage is built of stone, and so
are all the walls that are used as fences.

[2] The Duke of Buccleuch told me the other day, that the Archers Guard
was established by James I., and was composed of men who were mounted
and armed from head to foot, and who were bound always to be near the
Sovereign’s person. At Flodden Field, King James IV.’s body, it is
said, was found covered and surrounded by the bodies of the Archers
Guard.

[3] Now Earl of Wemyss.

The country and people have quite a different character from _England_
and the English. The old women wear close caps, and all the children
and girls are bare-footed. I saw several handsome girls and children
with long hair; indeed all the poor girls from sixteen and seventeen
down to two or three years old, have loose flowing hair; a great deal
of it red.

As we came along we saw _Craigmillar Castle_, a ruin, where Mary, Queen
of Scots, used to live. We reached _Dalkeith_ at eleven; a large house,
constructed of reddish stone, the greater part built by the Duchess
of Monmouth, and the park is very fine and large. The house has three
fronts, with the entrance on the left as you drive up. The

Duchess of Buccleuch arrived directly after us, and we were shown up a
very handsome staircase to our rooms, which are very comfortable. We
both felt dreadfully tired and giddy.

We drove out together. The park is very extensive, with a beautiful
view of _Arthur’s Seat_ and the _Pentland Hills_; and there is a pretty
drive overhanging a deep valley. At eight we dined--a large party.
Everybody was very kind and civil, and full of inquiries as to our
voyage.


  _Dalkeith House, Friday, September 2._

At breakfast I tasted the oatmeal porridge, which I think very good,
and also some of the “Finnan haddies.” We then walked out. The
pleasure-grounds seem very extensive and beautiful, wild and hilly. We
walked down along the stream (the river _Esk_), up a steep bank to a
little cottage, and came home by the upper part of the walk. At four
o’clock we drove out with the Duchess of Buccleuch and the Duchess of
Norfolk--the Duke and equerries riding--the others in another carriage.
We drove through _Dalkeith_, which was full of people, all running and
cheering.

Albert says that many of the people look like Germans. The old women
with that kind of cap which they call a “mutch,” and the young girls
and children with flowing hair, and many of them pretty, are very
picturesque; you hardly see any women with bonnets.

Such a thick “Scotch mist” came on that we were obliged to drive home
through the village of _Lasswade_, and through Lord Melville’s Park,
which is very fine.


  _Saturday, September 3._

At ten o’clock we set off--we two in the barouche--all the others
following, for _Edinburgh_. We drove in under _Arthur’s Seat_, where
the crowd began to be very great, and here the Guard of Royal Archers
met us; Lord Elcho walking near me, and the Duke of Roxburgh and Sir
J. Hope on Albert’s side. We passed by _Holyrood Chapel_, which is
very old and full of interest, and _Holyrood Palace_, a royal-looking
old place. The procession moved through the _Old Town_ up the _High
Street_, which is a most extraordinary street from the immense height
of the houses, most of them being eleven stories high, and different
families living in each story. Every window was crammed full of people.
They showed us _Knox’s House_, a curious old building, as is also the
_Regent Murray’s House_, which is in perfect preservation. In the _Old
Town_ the _High Church_, and _St. Paul’s_ in the _New Town_, are very
fine buildings. At the barrier, the Provost presented us with the keys.

The girls of the _Orphan Asylum_, and the Trades in old costumes, were
on a platform. Further on was the _New Church_, to which--strange to
say, as the church is nearly finished--they were going to lay the
foundation stone. We at length reached the Castle, to the top of which
we walked.

The view from both batteries is splendid, like a panorama in extent. We
saw from them _Heriot’s Hospital_, a beautiful old building, founded,
in the time of James, by a goldsmith and jeweller, whom Sir Walter
Scott has made famous in his _Fortunes of Nigel_. After this, we got
again into the carriages and proceeded in the same way as before, the
pressure of the crowd being really quite alarming; and both I and
Albert were quite terrified for the Archers Guard, who had very hard
work of it; but were of the greatest use. They all carry a bow in one
hand, and have their arrows stuck through their belts.

Unfortunately, as soon as we were out of _Edinburgh_, it began to
rain, and continued raining the whole afternoon without interruption.
We reached _Dalmeny_, Lord Roseberry’s, at two o’clock. The park is
beautiful, with the trees growing down to the sea. It commands a very
fine view of the _Forth_, the _Isle of May_, the _Bass Rock_, and
of _Edinburgh_; but the mist rendered it almost impossible to see
anything. The grounds are very extensive, being hill and dale and
wood. The house is quite modern: Lord Roseberry built it, and it is
very pretty and comfortable. We lunched there. The Roseberrys were
all civility and attention. We left them about half-past three, and
proceeded home through _Leith_.

The view of _Edinburgh_ from the road before you enter _Leith_ is quite
enchanting; it is, as Albert said, “fairy-like,” and what you would
only imagine as a thing to dream of, or to see in a picture. There
was that beautiful large town, all of stone (no mingled colours of
brick to mar it), with the bold Castle on one side, and the _Calton
Hill_ on the other, with those high sharp hills of _Arthur’s Seat_ and
_Salisbury Crags_ towering above all, and making the finest, boldest
background imaginable. Albert said he felt sure the _Acropolis_ could
not be finer; and I hear they sometimes call _Edinburgh_ “the modern
_Athens_.” The Archers Guard met us again at _Leith_, which is not a
pretty town.

The people were most enthusiastic, and the crowd very great. The
Porters all mounted, with curious Scotch caps, and their horses
decorated with flowers, had a very singular effect; but the fishwomen
are the most striking-looking people, and are generally young and
pretty women--very clean and very Dutch-looking, with their white caps
and bright-coloured petticoats. They never marry out of their class.

At six we returned well tired.


  _Sunday, September 4._

We walked to see the new garden which is being made, and saw Mackintosh
there, who was formerly gardener at _Claremont_. The view of _Dalkeith_
(the village, or rather town) from thence is extremely picturesque,
and Albert says very German-looking. We returned over a rough sort of
bridge, made only of planks, which crosses the _Esk_, and which, with
the wooded banks on each side, is excessively pretty. Received from
Lady Lyttelton good accounts of our little children. At twelve o’clock
there were prayers in the house, read by Mr. Ramsay, who also preached.

At half-past four the Duchess drove me out in her own phaeton, with
a very pretty pair of chestnut ponies, Albert riding with the Duke
and Colonel Bouverie. We drove through parts of the park, through an
old wood, and along the banks of the _South Esk_ and the _North Esk_,
which meet at a point from which there is such a beautiful view of the
_Pentland Hills_. Then we drove, by a private road, to _Newbattle_,
Lord Lothian’s place. The park is very fine, and the house seems large;
we got out to look at a most magnificent beech-tree. The _South Esk_
runs close before the house, by a richly wooded bank.

From thence we went to _Dalhousie_, Lord Dalhousie’s. The house is a
real old Scotch castle, of reddish stone. We got out for a moment, and
the Dalhousies showed us the drawing-room. From the window you see a
beautiful wooded valley, and a peep of the distant hills.

Lord Dalhousie said there had been no British sovereign there since
Henry IV. We drove home by the same way that we came. The evening
was--as the whole day had been--clear, bright, and frosty, and the
_Moorfoot Hills_ (another range) looked beautiful as we were returning.
It was past seven when we got home.


  _Monday, September 5._

I held a Drawing-room at _Dalkeith_ to-day, in the gallery. The
Ministers and Scotch Officers of State were in the room, and the Royal
Archers were in attendance in the room and outside of it, like the
Gentlemen at Arms in _London_. Before the Drawing-room I received three
addresses--from the Lord Provost and Magistrates, from the Scotch
Church, and from the Universities of _St. Andrews_, _Glasgow_, and
_Edinburgh_--to which I read answers. Albert received his just after I
did mine, and read his answers beautifully.


  _Tuesday, September 6._

At nine o’clock we left _Dalkeith_ as we came. It was a bright, clear,
cold, frosty morning. As we drove along we saw the _Pentlands_, which
looked beautiful, as did also _Arthur’s Seat_, which we passed quite
close by. The _Salisbury Crags_, too, are very high, bold, and sharp.
Before this we saw _Craigmillar_. We passed through a back part of the
town (which is most solidly built), close by _Heriot’s Hospital_, and
had a very fine view of the Castle.

I forgot to say that, when we visited the Castle, we saw the Regalia,
which are very old and curious (they were lost for one hundred years);
also the room in which James VI. of Scotland and the First of England
was born--such a very, very small room, with an old prayer written on
the wall. We had a beautiful view of _Edinburgh_ and the _Forth_. At
_Craigleith_ (only a half-way house, nine miles) we changed horses.
The Duke rode with us all the way as Lord-Lieutenant of the county,
until we arrived at _Dalmeny_, where Lord Hopetoun met us and rode with
us. At eleven we reached the _South Queensferry_, where we got out of
our carriage and embarked in a little steamer; the ladies and gentlemen
and our carriages going in another. We went a little way up the
_Forth_, to see _Hopetoun House_, Lord Hopetoun’s, which is beautifully
situated between _Hopetoun_ and _Dalmeny_. We also saw _Dundas Castle_,
belonging to Dundas of Dundas, and further on, beyond _Hopetoun_,
_Blackness Castle_, famous in history. On the opposite side you see
a square tower, close to the water, called _Rosyth_, where Oliver
Cromwell’s mother was said to have been born, and in the distance
_Dunfermline_, where Robert Bruce is buried. We passed close by a
very pretty island in the _Forth_, with an old castle on it, called
_Inchgarvie_; and we could see the Forth winding beautifully, and had
a distant glimpse of _Edinburgh_ and its fine Castle. We landed safely
on the other side, at _North Queensferry_, and got into our carriages.
Captain Wemyss, elder brother to General Wemyss, rode with us all the
way beyond _Cowdenbeath_ (eight miles). The first village we passed
through on leaving the _Queensferry_, was _Inverkeithing_. We passed by
Sir P. Durham’s property.

We changed horses at _Cowdenbeath_. At a quarter-past one we entered
_Kinross-shire_. Soon after, the country grew prettier, and the hills
appeared again, partly wooded. We passed _Loch Leven_, and saw the
castle on the lake from which poor Queen Mary escaped. There the
country is rather flat, and the hills are only on one side. We changed
horses next at _Kinross_. Soon after this, the mountains, which are
rather barren, began to appear. Then we passed the valley of _Glen
Farg_; the hills are very high on each side, and completely wooded down
to the bottom of the valley, where a small stream runs on one side of
the road--it is really lovely.

On leaving this valley you come upon a beautiful view of _Strathearn_
and _Moncrieffe Hill_. We were then in _Perthshire_. We changed horses
next at the _Bridge of Earn_ (12 miles). At half-past three we reached
_Dupplin_, Lord Kinnoull’s. All the time the views of the hills, and
dales, and streams were lovely. The last part of the road very bad
travelling, up and down hill. _Dupplin_ is a very fine modern house,
with a very pretty view of the hills on one side, and a small waterfall
close in front of the house. A battalion of the 42nd Highlanders was
drawn up before the house, and the men looked very handsome in their
kilts. We each received an address from the nobility and gentry of the
county, read by Lord Kinnoull; and from the Provost and Magistrates
of _Perth_. We then lunched. The Willoughbys, Kinnairds, Ruthvens,
and Lord Mansfield, and one of his sisters, with others, were there.
After luncheon, we walked a little way in the grounds, and then at
five o’clock we set off again. We very soon came upon _Perth_, the
situation of which is quite lovely; it is on the _Tay_, with wooded
hills skirting it entirely on one side, and hills are seen again in the
distance, the river winding beautifully.

Albert was charmed, and said it put him in mind of the situation of
_Basle_. The town itself (which is very pretty) was immensely crowded,
and the people very enthusiastic; triumphal arches had been erected
in various places. The Provost presented me with the keys, and Albert
with the freedom of the city. Two miles beyond is _Scone_ (Lord
Mansfield’s), a fine-looking house of reddish stone.

Lord Mansfield and the Dowager Lady Mansfield received us at the door,
and took us to our rooms, which were very nice.


  _Wednesday, September 7._

We walked out, and saw the mound on which the ancient Scotch kings were
always crowned; also the old arch with James VI.’s arms, and the old
cross, which is very interesting.

Before our windows stands a sycamore-tree planted by James VI. A
curious old book was brought to us from _Perth_, in which the last
signatures are those of James I. (of England) and of Charles I., and
we were asked to write our names in it, and we did so. Lord Mansfield
told me yesterday that there were some people in the town who wore the
identical dresses that had been worn in Charles I.’s time. At eleven
o’clock we set off as before. We drove through part of _Perth_, and
had a very fine view of _Scone_. A few miles on, we passed the field
of battle of _Luncarty_, where tradition says the Danes were beaten by
Lord Erroll’s ancestor. We also passed Lord Lynedoch’s property. We
then changed horses at the “New Inn” at _Auchtergaven_. The _Grampians_
came now distinctly into view; they are indeed a grand range of
mountains.

To the left we saw _Tullybelton_, where it is said the Druids used to
sacrifice to Bel; there are a few trees on the top of the mountain.

To the left; but more immediately before us, we saw _Birnam_, where
once stood _Birnam Wood_, so renowned in _Macbeth_. We passed a pretty
shooting place of Sir W. Stewart’s, called _Rohallion_, nearly at the
foot of _Birnam_. To the right we saw the _Stormont_ and _Strathtay_.
Albert said, as we came along between the mountains, that to the
right, where they were wooded, it was very like _Thüringen_, and on the
left more like _Switzerland_. _Murthly_, to the right, which belongs
to Sir W. Stewart, is in a very fine situation, with the _Tay_ winding
under the hill. This lovely scenery continues all along to _Dunkeld_.
Lord Mansfield rode with us the whole way.

Just outside _Dunkeld_, before a triumphal arch, Lord Glenlyon’s
Highlanders, with halberds, met us, and formed our guard--a piper
playing before us. _Dunkeld_ is beautifully situated in a narrow
valley, on the banks of the _Tay_. We drove in to where the Highlanders
were all drawn up, in the midst of their encampments, and where a tent
was prepared for us to lunch in. Poor Lord Glenlyon[4] received us; but
he had suddenly become totally blind, which is dreadful for him. He was
led about by his wife; it was very melancholy. His blindness was caused
by over-fatigue. The Dowager Lady Glenlyon, the Mansfields, Kinnoulls,
Buccleuchs, and many others were there. We walked down the ranks of the
Highlanders, and then partook of luncheon, the piper played, and one of
the Highlanders[5] danced the “sword dance.” (Two swords crossed are
laid upon the ground, and the dancer has to dance across them without
touching them.) Some of the others danced a reel.

[4] The late Duke of Athole.

[5] Charles Christie, now steward to the present Dowager Duchess of
Athole.

At a quarter to four we left _Dunkeld_ as we came, the Highland Guard
marching with us till we reached the outside of the town. The drive
was quite beautiful all the way to _Taymouth_.[6] The two highest
hills of the range on each side are (to the right, as you go on after
leaving _Dunkeld_) _Craig-y-Barns_ and (to the left, immediately above
_Dunkeld_) _Craigvinean_. The _Tay_ winds along beautifully, and the
hills are richly wooded. We changed horses first at _Balanagard_ (nine
miles), to which place Captain Murray, Lord Glenlyon’s brother, rode
with us. The hills grew higher and higher, and Albert said it was very
Swiss-looking in some parts. High ribbed mountains appeared in the
distance, higher than any we have yet seen. This was near _Aberfeldy_
(nine miles), which is charmingly situated and the mountains very
lofty. At a quarter to six we reached _Taymouth_. At the gate a guard
of Highlanders, Lord Breadalbane’s men, met us. _Taymouth_ lies in a
valley surrounded by very high, wooded hills; it is most beautiful.
The house is a kind of castle, built of granite. The _coup-d’œil_ was
indescribable. There were a number of Lord Breadalbane’s Highlanders,
all in the Campbell tartan, drawn up in front of the house, with Lord
Breadalbane himself in a Highland dress at their head, a few of Sir
Neil Menzies’ men (in the Menzies red and white tartan), a number
of pipers playing, and a company of the 92nd Highlanders, also in
kilts. The firing of the guns, the cheering of the great crowd, the
picturesqueness of the dresses, the beauty of the surrounding country,
with its rich background of wooded hills, altogether formed one of the
finest scenes imaginable. It seemed as if a great chieftain in olden
feudal times was receiving his sovereign. It was princely and romantic.
Lord and Lady Breadalbane took us upstairs, the hall and stairs being
lined with Highlanders.

[6] I revisited Taymouth last autumn, on the 3rd of October, from
Dunkeld (incognita), with Louise, the Dowager Duchess of Athole, and
Miss MacGregor. As we could not have driven through the grounds without
asking permission, and we did not wish to be known, we decided upon
not attempting to do so, and contented ourselves with getting out at a
gate close to a small fort, into which we were led by a woman from the
gardener’s house, near to which we had stopped, and who had no idea who
we were.

We got out, and looked from this height down upon the house below, the
mist having cleared away sufficiently to show us everything; and then,
unknown, quite in private, I gazed--not without deep emotion--on the
scene of our reception twenty-four years ago, by dear Lord Breadalbane,
in a princely style, not to be equalled in grandeur and poetic effect.

Albert and I were then only twenty-three, young and happy. How many are
gone that were with us then!

I was very thankful to have seen it again.

It seemed unaltered.--1866.

The Gothic staircase is of stone and very fine; the whole of the house
is newly and exquisitely furnished. The drawing-room, especially, is
splendid. Thence you go into a passage and a library, which adjoins our
private apartments. They showed us two sets of apartments, and we chose
those which are on the right hand of the corridor or ante-room to the
library. At eight we dined. Staying in the house, besides ourselves,
are the Buccleuchs and the two Ministers, the Duchess of Sutherland and
Lady Elizabeth Leveson Gower,[7] the Abercorns, Roxburghs, Kinnoulls,
Lord Lauderdale, Sir Anthony Maitland, Lord Lorne,[8] the Fox Maules,
Belhavens, Mr. and Mrs. William Russell, Sir J. and Lady Elizabeth,
and the Misses Pringle, and two Messrs. Baillie, brothers of Lady
Breadalbane. The dining-room is a fine room in Gothic style, and has
never been dined in till this day. Our apartments also are inhabited
for the first time. After dinner the grounds were most splendidly
illuminated,--a whole chain of lamps along the railings, and on the
ground was written in lamps, “Welcome Victoria--Albert.”

[7] Now Duchess of Argyll.

[8] The present Duke of Argyll.

A small fort, which is up in the woods, was illuminated, and bonfires
were burning on the tops of the hills. I never saw anything so
fairy-like. There were some pretty fireworks, and the whole ended by
the Highlanders dancing reels, which they do to perfection, to the
sound of the pipes, by torch-light, in front of the house. It had a
wild and very gay effect.


  _Taymouth, Thursday, September 8._

Albert went off at half-past nine o’clock to shoot with Lord
Breadalbane. I walked out with the Duchess of Norfolk along a path
overlooking the _Tay_, which is very clear, and ripples and foams along
over the stones, the high mountains forming such a rich background. We
got up to the dairy, which is a kind of Swiss cottage, built of quartz,
very clean and nice. From the top of it there is a very pretty view of
_Loch Tay_.

We returned home by the way we came. It rained the whole time, and very
hard for a little while. Albert returned at half-past three. He had
had excellent sport, and the trophies of it were spread out before the
house--nineteen roe-deer, several hares and pheasants, and three brace
of grouse; there was also a capercailzie that had been wounded, and
which I saw afterwards, a magnificent large bird.

Albert had been near _Aberfeldy_, and had to shoot and walk the whole
way back, Lord Breadalbane himself beating, and 300 Highlanders out. We
went out at five, with Lady Breadalbane and the Duchess of Sutherland;
we saw part of _Loch Tay_, and drove along the banks of the _Tay_ under
fine trees, and saw Lord Breadalbane’s American buffaloes.


  _Friday, September 9._

Albert off again after nine o’clock, to shoot. Soon after he left I
walked out with the Duchess of Norfolk across the iron bridge, and
along a grass walk overhanging the _Tay_.

Two of the Highland Guard (they were stationed at almost every gate in
the park) followed us, and it looked like olden times to see them with
their swords drawn.

We then walked to a lodge on the same road. A fat, good-humoured little
woman, about forty years old, cut some flowers for each of us, and
the Duchess gave her some money, saying, “From Her Majesty.” I never
saw any one more surprised than she was; she, however, came up to
me and said very warmly, that my people were delighted to see me in
_Scotland_. It came on to rain very heavily soon afterwards, but we
walked on. We saw a woman in the river, with her dress tucked up almost
to her knees, washing potatoes.

The rain ceased just as we came home, but it went on pouring
frequently. Albert returned at twenty minutes to three, having had
very hard work on the moors, wading up to his knees in bogs every
now and then, and had killed nine brace of grouse. We lunched; then
we went to the drawing-room, and saw from the window the Highlanders
dancing reels; but unfortunately it rained the whole time. There were
nine pipers at the castle; sometimes one, and sometimes three played.
They always played about breakfast-time, again during the morning, at
luncheon, and also whenever we went in and out; again before dinner,
and during most of dinnertime. We both have become quite fond of the
bagpipes.

At a quarter-past five we drove out with the Duchess of Buccleuch
and the Duchess of Sutherland (poor Lady Breadalbane not being very
well), Lord Breadalbane riding the whole time before us. We took a most
beautiful drive, first of all along part of the lake and between the
hills--such thorough mountain scenery,--and with little huts, so low,
so full of peat smoke, that one could hardly see anything for smoke. We
saw _Ben Lawers_, which is said to be 4,000 feet high, very well, and
further on, quite in the distance, _Ben More_--also the _Glenlyon_, and
the river _Lyon_, and many fine glens. It was quite dark when we came
home at half-past seven. At eight we dined; Lord and Lady Ruthven and
Lord and Lady Duncan dined here. After dinner came a number of people,
about ninety, and there was a ball. It opened with a quadrille, which I
danced with Lord Breadalbane, and Albert with the Duchess of Buccleuch.
A number of reels were danced, which it was very amusing and pretty to
see.


  _Saturday, September 10._

We walked to the dairy and back--a fine bright morning; the weather the
two preceding days had been very unfortunate. I drove a little way with
Lady Breadalbane, the others walking, and then got out, and each of us
planted two trees, a fir and an oak. We got in again, and drove with
the whole party down to the lake, where we embarked. Lady Breadalbane,
the Duchess of Sutherland and Lady Elizabeth went by land, but all the
others went in boats. With us were Lord Breadalbane and the Duchess of
Norfolk and Duchess of Buccleuch; and two pipers sat on the bow and
played very often. I have since been reading in _The Lady of the Lake_,
and this passage reminds me of our voyage:—

    “See the proud pipers on the bow,
    And mark the gaudy streamers flow
    From their loud chanters down, and sweep
    The furrow’d bosom of the deep,
    As, rushing through the lake amain,
    They plied the ancient Highland strain.”

Our row of 16 miles up _Loch Tay_ to _Auchmore_, a cottage of Lord
Breadalbane’s, near the end of the lake, was the prettiest thing
imaginable. We saw the splendid scenery to such great advantage on
both sides: _Ben Lawers_, with small waterfalls descending its sides,
amid other high mountains wooded here and there; with _Kenmore_ in
the distance; the view, looking back, as the loch winds, was most
beautiful. The boatmen sang two Gaelic boat-songs, very wild and
singular; the language so guttural and yet so soft. Captain McDougall,
who steered, and who is the head of the McDougalls, showed us the
real “brooch of Lorn,” which was taken by his ancestor from Robert
Bruce in a battle. The situation of _Auchmore_ is exquisite; the trees
growing so beautifully down from the top of the mountains, quite into
the water, and the mountains all round, make it an enchanting spot.
We landed and lunched in the cottage, which is a very nice little
place. The day was very fine; the Highlanders were there again. We
left _Auchmore_ at twenty minutes past three, having arrived there at
a quarter before three. The kindness and attention to us of Lord and
of Lady Breadalbane (who is very delicate) were unbounded. We passed
_Killin_, where there is a mountain stream running over large stones,
and forming waterfalls.

The country we came to now was very wild, beginning at _Glen Dochart_,
through which the _Dochart_ flows; nothing but moors and very high
rocky mountains. We came to a small lake called, I think, _Laragilly_,
amidst the wildest and finest scenery we had yet seen. _Glen Ogle_,
which is a sort of long pass, putting one in mind of the prints of
the _Kyber Pass_, the road going for some way down hill and up hill,
through these very high mountains, and the escort in front looking like
mere specks from the great height. We also saw _Ben Voirlich_. At _Loch
Earn Head_ we changed horses. Lord Breadalbane rode with us the whole
way up to this point, and then he put his Factor (in Highland dress) up
behind our carriage. It came on to rain, and rained almost the whole
of the rest of the time. We passed along _Loch Earn_, which is a very
beautiful long lake skirted by high mountains; but is not so long or
so large as _Loch Tay_. Just as we turned and went by _St. Fillans_,
the view of the lake was very fine. There is a large detached rock with
rich verdure on it, which is very striking.

We also saw _Glenartney_, the mountain on which Lord Willoughby has
his deer forest. We passed by Sir D. Dundas’s place, _Dunira_, before
we changed horses at _Comrie_, for the last time, and then by Mr.
Williamson’s, and by _Ochtertyre_, Sir W. Keith Murray’s.

Triumphal arches were erected in many places. We passed through
_Crieff_, and a little past seven reached _Drummond Castle_, by a very
steep ascent. Lord Willoughby received us at the door, and showed us to
our rooms, which are small but nice. Besides Lord and Lady Willoughby
and the two Misses Willoughby, and our own people, the dinner-party was
composed of the Duchess of Sutherland and Lady Elizabeth L. Gower, Lord
and Lady Carington, Mr. and Mrs. Heathcote, the Duke de Richelieu, Lord
Ossulston, Mr. Drummond, and the officers of the Guard.


  _Drummond Castle, Sunday, September 11._

We walked in the garden, which is really very fine, with terraces, like
an old French garden. Part of the old castle and the archway remains.

At twelve o’clock we had prayers in the drawing-room, which were read
by a young clergyman, who preached a good sermon.

It poured the whole afternoon, and, after writing, I read to Albert
the three first cantos of _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_, which
delighted us both; and then we looked over some curious, fine old
prints by Ridinger. At eight we dined. The Duchess of Sutherland and
Lady Elizabeth had gone; but Lord and Lady Abercorn and Lord and Lady
Kinnoull and their daughter added to the party.


  _Monday, September 12._

Albert got up at five o’clock to go out deer-stalking. I walked out
with the Duchess of Norfolk.

All the Highlanders (Lord Willoughby’s people, 110 in number), were
drawn up in the court, young Mr. Willoughby and Major Drummond being
at their head, and I walked round with Lady Willoughby. All the arms
they wore belonged to Lord Willoughby; and there was one double-hilted
sword, which had been at the battle of _Bannockburn_. I hear that at
_Dunkeld_ there were nearly 900 Highlanders, 500 being _Athole_ men;
and, altogether, with the various Highlanders who were on guard, there
were 1,000 men.

At length--a little before three--to my joy, Albert returned,
dreadfully sunburnt, and a good deal tired; he had shot a stag. He
said the exertion and difficulty were very great. He had changed his
dress at a small farm-house. _Glenartney_ is ten miles from _Drummond
Castle_; he drove there. Campbell of Monzie (pronounced “Monie”), a
young gentleman who has a place near here, went with him and was,
Albert said, extremely active. To give some description of this curious
sport, I will copy an extract from a letter Albert has written to
Charles,[9] giving a short account of it:—

“Without doubt deer-stalking is one of the most fatiguing, but it is
also one of the most interesting of pursuits. There is not a tree, or a
bush behind which you can hide yourself.... One has, therefore, to be
constantly on the alert in order to circumvent them; and to keep under
the hill out of their wind, crawling on hands and knees, and dressed
entirely in grey.”

[9] My half-brother, Prince Leiningen, who died in 1856.

At half-past four we drove out with Lady Willoughby and the Duchess
of Buccleuch. We drove through _Fern Tower_ (belonging to the widow
of the first Sir D. Baird), where we stopped the carriage; then to
_Abercairny_, Major Moray’s. We got out there a moment to look at the
very fine house he is building, then drove home by _Monzie_ (Campbell
of Monzie’s), and Sir W. Murray’s, and had a very good view of the
Highland hills--a very fine day. At eight we dined. The Belhavens,
Seftons, Cravens, Campbell of Monzie, and various others composed the
party. After dinner more people came--several in kilts; and many reels
were danced; Campbell of Monzie is an exceedingly good dancer. We
danced one country dance--I with Lord Willoughby--and Albert with Lady
Carington.


  _Tuesday, September 13._

We had to start early, and therefore got up soon after seven o’clock;
breakfast before eight. At nine we set off. The morning was very foggy
and hazy. We passed near Lord Strathallan’s place and stopped for a
moment where old Lady Strathallan was seated. Lord Willoughby rode with
us the whole way till we arrived here. Soon after this we came to a
very extraordinary Roman encampment at _Ardoch_, called the “Lindrum.”
Albert got out; but I remained in the carriage, and Major Moray showed
it to him. They say it is one of the most perfect in existence.

We changed horses at _Greenloaning_, and passed through _Dunblane_.
At twelve o’clock we reached _Stirling_, where the crowd was quite
fearful, and the streets so narrow, that it was most alarming; and
order was not very well kept. Up to the Castle, the road or street is
dreadfully steep; we had a foot procession before us the whole way, and
the heat was intense. The situation of the Castle is extremely grand;
but I prefer that of _Edinburgh Castle_. Old Sir Archibald Christie
explained everything to us very well. We were shown the room where
James II. killed Douglas, and the window out of which he was thrown.
The ceiling is most curious. A skeleton was found in the garden only
twenty-five years ago, and there appears to be little doubt it was
Douglas’s. From the terrace the view is very extensive; but it was so
thick and hazy, that we could not see the Highland hills well. Sir A.
Christie showed us the field of the battle of _Bannockburn_; and the
“Knoll,” close under the walls of the Castle, from which the ladies
used to watch the tournaments; all the embankments yet remain. We also
saw Knox’s pulpit.

We next passed through _Falkirk_, and changed horses at _Callander
Park_, Mr. Forbes’s; both he and Sir Michael Bruce having ridden with
us from beyond _Stirling_. We passed Lord Zetland on the road, and
shortly before reaching _Linlithgow_, where we changed horses, Lord
Hopetoun met us. Unfortunately, we did not see the Palace, which, I am
told, is well worth seeing. The Duke of Buccleuch met us soon after
this, and, accompanied by a large number of his tenants, rode with us
on horseback to _Dalkeith_. We changed horses at _Kirkliston_, and
lastly at the outskirts of _Edinburgh_. There were a good many people
assembled at _Edinburgh_; but we were unable to stop. We reached
_Dalkeith_ at half-past five.

The journey was 65 miles, and I was very tired, and felt most happy
that we had safely arrived here.


  _Dalkeith, Wednesday, September 14._

This is our last day in _Scotland_; it is really a delightful country,
and I am very sorry to leave it. We walked out and saw the fine
greenhouse the Duke has built, all in stone, in the Renaissance style.
At half-past three o’clock we went out with the Duchess of Buccleuch,
only Colonel Bouverie riding with us. We drove through _Melville Park_,
and through one of the little collier villages (of which there are a
great many about _Dalkeith_), called _Loanhead_, to _Rosslyn_.

We got out at the chapel, which is in excellent preservation; it was
built in the fifteenth century, and the architecture is exceedingly
rich. It is the burying place of the family of Lord Rosslyn, who keeps
it in repair. Twenty Barons of Rosslyn are buried there in armour. A
great crowd had collected about the chapel when we came out of it.

From _Rosslyn_ we then drove to _Hawthornden_, which is also
beautifully situated at a great height above the river. To our great
surprise we found an immense crowd of people there, who must have run
over from _Rosslyn_ to meet us.

We got out, and went down into some of the very curious caves in
the solid rock, where Sir Alexander Ramsay and his brave followers
concealed themselves, and held out for so long a time. The Duchess told
us there were many of these caves all along the river to _Rosslyn_.

We came home through _Bonnyrigg_, another collier village, and through
_Dalkeith_.


  _Thursday, September 15._

We breakfasted at half-past seven o’clock, and at eight we set off,
with the Duchess of Buccleuch, Lord Liverpool, and Lord Hardwicke
following. The ladies and equerries had embarked earlier. The day was
very bright and fine. The arrangements in _Edinburgh_, through which we
had to pass, were extremely well managed, and excellent order was kept.
We got out of the carriage on the pier, and went at once on board the
“Trident,” a large steamboat belonging to the General Steam Navigation
Company. The Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch, Lady J. Scott, the Emlyns,
Lord Cawdor, and Lady M. Campbell, came on board with us, and we then
took leave of them. We both thanked the Duke and Duchess for their
extreme kindness, attention, and hospitality to us, which really were
very great--indeed we had felt ourselves quite at home at _Dalkeith_.

As the fair shores of _Scotland_ receded more and more from our view,
we felt quite sad that this very pleasant and interesting tour was
over; but we shall never forget it.

On board the “Trident” (where the accommodation for us was much
larger and better than on board the “Royal George,” and which was
beautifully fitted up,) were Admiral Sir E. Brace, a pleasant old man,
Commander Bullock, and three other officers. The “Rhadamanthus,”
with some servants and carriages, set off last night, as well as the
“Shearwater,” with Lord Liverpool and Lord Hardwicke on board.

The “Salamander” (with Mr. and Mrs. Anson on board), the “Fearless,”
and the “Royal George” yacht set off at the same time with us, but the
wind being against us, we soon lost sight of the yacht, and, not very
long after, of all our steamers, except the “Monarch,” which belongs
to the General Steam Navigation Company, and had some of our horses on
board. It started nearly at the same time, and was the only one which
could keep up with us. We passed _Tantallon Castle_, a grand old ruin
on the coast, and quite close to the _Bass Rock_, which is very fine,
and nearly opposite _Tantallon_. It was entirely covered with sea-gulls
and island geese, which swarm in thousands and thousands, quite
whitening its sides, and hovering above and around it.

At two o’clock we passed the famed _St. Abb’s Head_, which we had so
longed to see on our first voyage to _Scotland_. I read a few stanzas
out of _Marmion_, giving an account of the voyage of the nuns to _Holy
Island_, and saw the ruins of the convent on it; then _Bamborough
Castle_, and a little further on the _Ferne Islands_. We were very
sorry to hear that poor Grace Darling had died the night before we
passed the first time.


  _Friday, September 16._

We heard that we had passed _Flamborough Head_ at half-past five in the
morning. The “Black Eagle” we passed at half-past eight last night,
and we could only just see her smoke by the time we came on deck.
At half-past nine I followed Albert on deck; it was a fine, bright
morning. We had some coffee, and walked about; we were then quite
in the open sea; it was very fine all day. At five we were close to
the “Rhadamanthus,” which had been in sight all day. We had a very
pleasant little dinner on deck, in a small tent made of flags, at
half-past five. We passed _Yarmouth_ at about a quarter to six--very
flat--and looking, Albert said, like a Flemish town. We walked up and
down on deck, admiring the splendid moonlight, which was reflected so
beautifully on the sea.

We went below at half-past seven, and I read the fourth and fifth
cantos of _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ to Albert, and then we played
on the piano.


  _Saturday, September 17._

At three o’clock in the morning we were awakened by loud guns,
which, however, were welcome sounds to us, as we knew that we were
at the _Nore_, the entrance of the river. About six we heard the
“Rhadamanthus” had just passed us, and they said we were lying off
_Southend_, in order to let the “Black Eagle” come up. It was a very
bright day, though a little hazy.

The shipping in the river looked very pretty as we passed along. At
ten minutes past ten we got into the barge and landed. The Duchess of
Norfolk and Miss Matilda Paget and the equerries were all there, but
the others we knew nothing of. Sir James Clark had been on board the
“Trident” with us. We drove off at once to the railway terminus, and
reached _Windsor Castle_ at half-past twelve o’clock.




VISIT TO BLAIR ATHOLE.


  _Monday, September 9, 1844._

We got up at a quarter to six o’clock. We breakfasted. Mama came to
take leave of us; Alice and the baby[10] were brought in, poor little
things, to wish us “good-by.” Then good Bertie[11] came down to see
us, and Vicky[12] appeared as “voyageuse,” and was all impatience to
go. At seven we set off with her for the railroad, Viscountess Canning
and Lady Caroline Cocks[13] in our carriage. A very wet morning.
We got into the carriage again at _Paddington_, and proceeded to
_Woolwich_, which we reached at nine. Vicky was safely put into the
boat, and then carefully carried on deck of the yacht by Renwick,[14]
the sergeant-footman, whom we took with us in the boat on purpose. Lord
Liverpool, Lord Aberdeen, and Sir James Clark met us on board. Sir
Robert Peel was to have gone with us, but could not, in consequence of
his little girl being very ill.

[10] Prince Alfred, then only five weeks old.

[11] Name by which the Prince of Wales is always called in his family.

[12] Victoria, Princess Royal.

[13] Now Lady C. Courtenay.

[14] Now pensioned: promoted to Gentleman Porter in 1854. A very good
servant; and a native of Galashiels.


  _Blair Athole, Wednesday, September 11._

At six o’clock we inquired and heard that we were in the port of
_Dundee_. Albert saw our other gentlemen, who had had a very bad
passage. Tuesday night they had a dreadful storm. _Dundee_ is a very
large place, and the port is large and open; the situation of the
town is very fine, but the town itself is not so. The Provost and
people had come on board, and wanted us to land later, but we got this
satisfactorily arranged. At half-past eight we got into our barge with
Vicky, and our ladies and gentlemen. The sea was bright and blue; the
boat danced along beautifully. We had about a quarter of a mile to row.

A staircase, covered with red cloth, was arranged for us to land upon,
and there were a great many people; but everything was so well managed
that all crowding was avoided, and only the Magistrates were below the
platform where the people were. Albert walked up the steps with me,
I holding his arm and Vicky his hand, amidst the loud cheers of the
people, all the way to the carriage, our dear Vicky behaving like a
grown-up person--not put out, nor frightened, nor nervous. We got into
our postchaise, and at the same time Renwick took Vicky up in his arms,
and put her in the next carriage with her governess and nurse.

There was a great crowd in _Dundee_, but everything was very well
managed, and there would have been no crowding at all, had not, as
usual, about twenty people begun to run along with the carriage, and
thus forced a number of others to follow. About three miles beyond
_Dundee_ we stopped at the gate of Lord Camperdown’s place: here a
triumphal arch had been erected, and Lady Camperdown and Lady Duncan
and her little boy, with others, were all waiting to welcome us, and
were very civil and kind. The little boy, beautifully dressed in the
Highland dress, was carried to Vicky, and gave her a basket with fruit
and flowers. I said to Albert I could hardly believe that our child
was travelling with us--it put me so in mind of myself when I was
the “little Princess.” Albert observed that it was always said that
parents lived their lives over again in their children, which is a very
pleasant feeling.

The country from here to _Cupar Angus_ is very well cultivated, and you
see hills in the distance. The harvest is only now being got in, but
is very good; and everything much greener than in _England_. Nothing
could be quieter than our journey, and the scenery is so beautiful!
It is very different from _England_: all the houses built of stone;
the people so different,--sandy hair, high cheekbones; children with
long shaggy hair and bare legs and feet; little boys in kilts. Near
_Dunkeld_, and also as you get more into the _Highlands_, there are
prettier faces. Those jackets which the girls wear are so pretty; all
the men and women, as well as the children, look very healthy.

_Cupar Angus_ is a small place--a village--14 miles from _Dundee_.
There you enter _Perthshire_. We crossed the river _Isla_, which made
me think of my poor little dog “Isla.” For about five or six miles we
went along a very pretty but rough cross-road, with the _Grampians_ in
the distance. We saw _Birnam Wood_ and Sir W. Stewart’s place in that
fine valley on the opposite side of the river. All along such splendid
scenery, and Albert enjoyed it so much--rejoicing in the beauties of
nature, the sight of mountains, and the pure air.

The peeps of _Dunkeld_, with the river _Tay_ deep in the bottom, and
the view of the bridge and cathedral, surrounded by the high wooded
hills, as you approached it, were lovely in the extreme. We got out at
an inn (which was small, but very clean) at _Dunkeld_, and stopped to
let Vicky have some broth. Such a charming view from the window! Vicky
stood and bowed to the people out of the window. There never was such a
good traveller as she is, sleeping in the carriage at her usual times,
not put out, not frightened at noise or crowds; but pleased and amused.
She never heard the anchor go at night on board ship; but slept as
sound as a top.

Shortly after leaving _Dunkeld_, which is 20 miles from _Blair_, and 15
from _Cupar Angus_, we met Lord Glenlyon in a carriage; he jumped out
and rode with us the whole way to _Blair_,--and a most beautiful road
it is. Six miles on, in the woods to the left, we could see _Kinnaird
House_, where the late Lady Glenlyon (Lord Glenlyon’s mother, who died
about two or three months ago) used to live. Then we passed the point
of _Logierait_, where there are the remains of an ancient castle,--the
old Regality Court of the Dukes of Athole. At _Moulinearn_ we tasted
some of the “_Athole_ brose,” which was brought to the carriage.

We passed _Pitlochrie_, a small village, _Faskally_, a very pretty
place of Mr. Butter’s, to the left, and then came to the _Pass of
Killiecrankie_, which is quite magnificent; the road winds along
it, and you look down a great height, all wooded on both sides; the
_Garry_ rolling below it. I cannot describe how beautiful it is.
Albert was in perfect ecstasies. _Lude_, Mr. Mc Inroy’s, to the right,
is very pretty. _Blair Athole_ is only four or five miles from the
_Killiecrankie Pass_. Lord Glenlyon has had a new approach made. The
house is a large plain white building, surrounded by high hills, which
one can see from the windows. Lord and Lady Glenlyon, with their little
boy, received us at the door, and showed us to our rooms, and then left
us.


  _Blair Castle, Blair Athole,
  Thursday, September 12._

We took a delightful walk of two hours. Immediately near the house the
scenery is very wild, which is most enjoyable. The moment you step
out of the house you see those splendid hills all round. We went to
the left through some neglected pleasure-grounds, and then through
the wood, along a steep winding path overhanging the rapid stream.
These Scotch streams, full of stones, and clear as glass, are most
beautiful; the peeps between the trees, the depth of the shadows, the
mossy stones, mixed with slate, &c., which cover the banks, are lovely;
at every turn you have a picture. We were up high, but could not get
to the top; Albert in such delight; it is a happiness to see him, he
is in such spirits. We came back by a higher drive, and then went to
the Factor’s house, still higher up, where Lord and Lady Glenlyon are
living, having given _Blair_ up to us. We walked on, to a cornfield
where a number of women were cutting and reaping the oats (“shearing”
as they call it in _Scotland_), with a splendid view of the hills
before us, so rural and romantic, so unlike our daily _Windsor_ walk
(delightful as that is); and this change does such good: as Albert
observes, it refreshes one for a long time. We then went into the
kitchen-garden, and to a walk from which there is a magnificent view.
This mixture of great wildness and art is perfection.

At a little before four o’clock Albert drove me out in the pony phaeton
till nearly six--such a drive! Really to be able to sit in one’s pony
carriage, and to see such wild, beautiful scenery as we did, the
farthest point being only five miles from the house, is an immense
delight. We drove along _Glen Tilt_, through a wood overhanging the
river _Tilt_, which joins the _Garry_, and as we left the wood we
came upon such a lovely view--_Ben-y-Ghlo_ straight before us--and
under these high hills the river _Tilt_ gushing and winding over stones
and slates, and the hills and mountains skirted at the bottom with
beautiful trees; the whole lit up by the sun; and the air so pure and
fine; but no description can at all do it justice, or give an idea of
what this drive was.

Oh! what can equal the beauties of nature! What enjoyment there is
in them! Albert enjoys it so much; he is in ecstasies here. He has
inherited this love for nature from his dear father.

We went as far as the _Marble Lodge_, a keeper’s cottage, and came back
the same way.


  _Monday, September 16._

After our luncheon at half-past three, Albert drove me (Lord Glenlyon
riding with us) to the _Falls of the Bruar_. We got out at the road,
and walked to the upper falls, and down again by the path on the
opposite side. It is a walk of three miles round, and a very steep
ascent; at every turn the view of the rushing falls is extremely fine,
and looking back on the hills, which were so clear and so beautifully
lit up, with the rapid stream below, was most exquisite. We threw
stones down to see the effect in the water. The trees which surround
the falls were planted by the late Duke of Athole in compliance with
Burns’s “_Petition_.”[15]

[15] _The Humble Petition of Bruar Water to the Noble Duke of Athole._

The evening was beautiful, and we feasted our eyes on the
ever-changing, splendid views of the hills and vales as we drove back.
Albert said that the chief beauty of mountain scenery consisted in its
frequent changes. We came home at six o’clock.


  _Tuesday, September 17._

At a quarter to four o’clock we drove out, Albert driving me, and the
ladies and Lord Glenlyon following in another carriage. We drove to
the _Pass of Killiecrankie_, which looked in its greatest beauty and
splendour, and appeared quite closed, so that one could not imagine how
one was to get out of it. We drove over a bridge to the right, where
the view of the pass both ways, with the _Garry_ below, is beautiful.
We got out a little way beyond this and walked on a mile to the _Falls
of the Tummel_, the stream of which is famous for salmon; these falls,
however, are not so fine, or nearly so high, as those of the _Bruar_.
We got home at half-past six; the day was fast fading, and the lights
were lovely.

We watched two stags fighting just under our window; they are in an
enclosure, and roar incessantly.


  _Wednesday, September 18._

At nine o’clock we set off on ponies, to go up one of the hills, Albert
riding the dun pony and I the grey, attended only by Lord Glenlyon’s
excellent servant, Sandy McAra, in his Highland dress. We went out by
the back way across the road, and to the left through the ford, Sandy
leading my pony and Albert following closely, the water reaching up
above Sandy’s knees. We then went up the hill of _Tulloch_, first
straight up a very steep cabbage-field, and then in a zigzag manner
round, till we got up to the top; the ponies scrambling up over stones
and everything, and never making a false step; and the view all round
being splendid and most beautifully lit up. We went up to the very
highest top, which cannot be seen from the house or from below; and
from here the view is like a panorama: you see the _Falls of the
Bruar_, _Ben-y-Chat_, _Ben Vrackie_, _Ben-y-Ghlo_, the _Killiecrankie
Pass_, and a whole range of distant hills on the other side, which
one cannot at all see from below. In the direction of _Taymouth_ you
also see _Dalnacardoch_, the first stage from _Blair_. _Blair_ itself
and the houses in the village looked like little toys from the great
height we were on. It was quite romantic. Here we were with only this
Highlander behind us holding the ponies (for we got off twice and
walked about)--not a house, not a creature near us, but the pretty
Highland sheep, with their horns and black faces,--up at the top of
_Tulloch_, surrounded by beautiful mountains.

We came back the same way that we went, and stopped at the ford to let
the ponies drink before we rode through. We walked from inside the
gate, and came home at half-past eleven,--the most delightful, most
romantic ride and walk I ever had. I had never been up such a mountain,
and then the day was so fine. The hill of _Tulloch_ is covered with
grass, and is so delightfully soft to walk upon.


  _Thursday, September 19._

Albert set off, immediately after luncheon, deer-stalking, and I was
to follow and wait below in order to see the deer driven down. At four
o’clock I set off with Lady Glenlyon and Lady Canning, Mr. Oswald
and Lord Charles Wellesley riding, by the lower _Glen Tilt_ drive.
We stopped at the end; but were still in the wood; Sandy was looking
out and watching. After waiting we were allowed to come out of the
carriage, and came upon the road, where we saw some deer on the brow
of the hill. We sat down on the ground, Lady Canning and I sketching,
and Sandy and Mr. Oswald, both in Highland costume, (the same that
they all wear here, viz. a grey cloth jacket and waistcoat, with a
kilt and a Highland bonnet,) lying on the grass and looking through
glasses. After waiting again some time, we were told in a mysterious
whisper that “they were coming,” and indeed a great herd _did_ appear
on the brow of the hill, and came running down a good way, when most
provokingly two men who were walking on the road--which they had no
business to have done--suddenly came in sight, and then the herd all
ran back again and the sport was spoilt. After waiting some little
while we observed Albert, Lord Glenlyon, and the keepers on the brow of
the hill, and we got into the carriage, drove a little way, went over
the bridge, where there is a shepherd’s “shiel,” and got out and waited
for them to join us, which they did almost immediately,--looking very
picturesque with their rifles. My poor Albert had not even fired one
shot for fear of spoiling the whole thing, but had been running about a
good deal. The group of keepers and dogs was very pretty. After talking
and waiting a little while, we walked some way on, and then Albert
drove home with us.


  _Saturday, September 21._

After breakfast Albert saw Lord Glenlyon, who proposed that he should
go deer-stalking and that I should follow him. At twenty minutes to
eleven we drove off with Lady Canning for _Glen Tilt_. The day was
glorious and it would have been a pity to lose it, but it was a long
hard day’s work, though extremely delightful and enjoyable, and unlike
anything I had ever done before. I should have enjoyed it still more
had I been able to be with Albert the whole time.

We drove nearly to Peter Fraser’s house, which is between the _Marble
Lodge_ and _Forest Lodge_. Here Albert and I walked about a little,
and then Lady Canning and we mounted our ponies and set off on our
journey, Lord Glenlyon leading my pony the whole way, Peter Fraser,
the head-keeper (a wonderfully active man) leading the way; Sandy and
six other Highlanders carrying rifles and leading dogs, and the rear
brought up by two ponies with our luncheon-box. Lawley,[16] Albert’s
Jäger, was also there, carrying one of Albert’s rifles; the other
Albert slung over his right shoulder, to relieve Lawley. So we set off
and wound round and round the hill, which had the most picturesque
effect imaginable. Such a splendid view all round, finer and more
extensive the higher we went! The day was delightful; but the sun very
hot. We saw the highest point of _Ben-y-Ghlo_, which one cannot see
from below, and the distant range of hills we had seen from _Tulloch_
was beautifully softened by the slightest haze. We saw _Loch Vach_. The
road was very good, and as we ascended we had to speak in a whisper, as
indeed we did almost all day, for fear of coming upon deer unawares.
The wind was, however, right, which is everything here for the deer. I
wish we could have had Landseer with us to sketch our party, with the
background, it was so pretty, as were also the various “halts,” &c. If
I only had had time to sketch them!

[16] A very good man. His health obliged him to give up being a Jäger
in 1848; he was then appointed a Page, in which position he continued
till he died, in November, 1865.

We stopped at the top of the _Ghrianan_, whence you look down an
immense height. It is here that the eagles sometimes sit. Albert got
off and looked about in great admiration, and walked on a little, and
then remounted his pony. We then went nearly to the top of _Cairn
Chlamain_, and here we separated, Albert going off with Peter, Lawley,
and two other keepers, to get a “quiet shot” as they call it; and Lady
Canning, Lord Glenlyon, and I went up quite to the top, which is deep
in moss.

Here we sat down and stayed some time sketching the ponies below; Lord
Glenlyon and Sandy remaining near us. The view was quite beautiful,
nothing but mountains all around us, and the solitude, the complete
solitude, very impressive. We saw the range of _Mar Forest_, and the
inner range to the left, receding from us, as we sat facing the hill,
called _Scarsach_, where the counties of _Perth_, _Aberdeen_, and
_Inverness_ join. My pony was brought up for me, and we then descended
this highest pinnacle, and proceeded on a level to meet Albert, whom I
descried coming towards us. We met him shortly after; he had had bad
luck, I am sorry to say. We then sat down on the grass and had some
luncheon; then I walked a little with Albert and we got on our ponies.
As we went on towards home some deer were seen in _Glen Chroine_,
which is called the “Sanctum;” where it is supposed that there are a
great many. Albert went off soon after this, and we remained on _Sron
a Chro_, for an hour, I am sure, as Lord Glenlyon said by so doing we
should turn the deer to Albert, whereas if we went on we should disturb
and spoil the whole thing. So we submitted. Albert looked like a little
speck creeping about on an opposite hill. We saw four herds of deer,
two of them close to us. It was a beautiful sight.

Meanwhile I saw the sun sinking gradually, and I got quite alarmed lest
we should be benighted, and we called anxiously for Sandy, who had gone
away for a moment, to give a signal to come back. We then began our
descent, “squinting” the hill, the ponies going as safely and securely
as possible. As the sun went down the scenery became more and more
beautiful, the sky crimson, golden-red and blue, and the hills looking
purple and lilac, most exquisite, till at length it set, and the hues
grew softer in the sky and the outlines of the hills sharper. I never
saw anything so fine. It soon, however, grew very dark.

At length Albert met us, and he told me he had waited all the time
for us, as he knew how anxious I should be. He had been very unlucky,
and had lost his sport, for the rifle would not go off just when he
could have shot some fine harts; yet he was as merry and cheerful as
if nothing had happened to disappoint him. We got down quite safely to
the bridge; our ponies going most surely, though it was quite dusk when
we were at the bottom of the hill. We walked to the _Marble Lodge_,
and then got into the pony carriage and drove home by very bright
moonlight, which made everything look very lovely; but the road made
one a little nervous.

We saw a flight of ptarmigan, with their white wings, on the top of
_Sron a Chro_, also plovers, grouse, and pheasants. We were safely home
by a quarter to eight.


  _Tuesday, October 1._

At a quarter-past eight o’clock we started, and were very very sorry
to leave _Blair_ and the dear _Highlands_! Every little trifle and
every spot I had become attached to; our life of quiet and liberty,
everything was so pleasant, and all the Highlanders and people who went
with us I had got to like so much. Oh! the dear hills, it made me very
sad to leave them behind!

Lord Glenlyon rode with us, and we went back exactly the same road
we came; through _Killiecrankie_, _Pitlochrie_, saw _Logierait_, &c.
The battle of _Killiecrankie_ was fought in a field to your left,
as you come from _Blair_ and before you come to the pass; and Lord
Dundee was shot in a garden immediately above the field at _Urrard_
(formerly called _Rinrory_) which belongs to Mr. Stewart of _Urrard_;
the Stewarts of _Urrard_ used formerly to live on _Craig Urrard_. We
reached _Dunkeld_ at half-past eleven. Mr. Oswald and Mr. Patrick Small
Keir, with a detachment of Highlanders, were there. We drove up to the
door of the cottage at _Dunkeld_ and got out there. It is beautifully
situated and the cottage is very pretty, with a good view of the river
from the windows. _Craig-y-Barns_ is a fine rocky hill to the left as
you drive from _Blair_.

We walked to look at the beginning of the new house which the late
Duke of Athole commenced, but which has been left unfinished, and also
at a beautiful larch-tree, the first that was brought to _Scotland_.
I rode back on “Arghait Bhean”[17] for the last time, and took a sad
leave of him and of faithful Sandy McAra. We walked into the ruins of
the old cathedral and into that part which the late Duke fitted up for
service, and where there is a fine monument of him. I should never have
recognized the grounds of _Dunkeld_, so different did they look without
the encampment.[18] Beautiful as _Dunkeld_ is, it does not approach the
beauty and wildness of _Blair_.

[17] This pony was given to me by the Duke of Athole in 1847, and is
now alive at Osborne.

[18] _Vide_ page 14.

After twelve o’clock we set off again, and to our astonishment Lord
Glenlyon insisted upon riding on with us to _Dundee_, which is 50 miles
from _Blair_! Captain J. Murray also rode with us from _Dunkeld_. It
made me feel sad to see the country becoming flatter and flatter. There
was a great crowd at _Cupar Angus_, and at _Dundee_ a still larger one,
and on the pier the crush was very great.

We took leave of Lord Glenlyon with real regret, and he seemed quite
unhappy at our going. No one could be more zealous or kinder than he
was.

There was a fearful swell when we went in the barge to the yacht.


  _Thursday, October 3._

The English coast appeared terribly flat. Lord Aberdeen was quite
touched when I told him I was so attached to the dear, dear _Highlands_
and missed the fine hills so much. There is a great peculiarity about
the _Highlands_ and Highlanders; and they are such a chivalrous, fine,
active people. Our stay among them was so delightful. Independently of
the beautiful scenery, there was a quiet, a retirement, a wildness, a
liberty, and a solitude that had such a charm for us.

The day had cleared up and was bright, but the air very heavy and
thick, quite different from the mountain air, which was so pure, light,
and brisk. At two o’clock we reached _Woolwich_, and shortly after
disembarked. We proceeded straight to the railroad, and arrived at
_Windsor Castle_ at a few minutes past four.




TOUR ROUND THE WEST COAST OF SCOTLAND, AND VISIT TO ARDVERIKIE.


  _Wednesday, August 11, 1847._

We proceeded from the _Osborne Pier_ on board the yacht. Our two eldest
children, my brother Charles, the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk, Lord
Grey (Secretary of State), Lady Jocelyn, General Wemyss, Sir James
Clark, and Miss Hildyard, accompanied us.

We have with us the following steamers:--The “Black Eagle,” “Garland,”
“Undine,” “Fairy,” and “Scourge” (war-steamers). The two equerries are
on board the “Black Eagle.”

We were soon under weigh, and as _Osborne_ vanished from our sight, I
thought of our poor children left behind.


  _On Board the Victoria and Albert,
  in Dartmouth Harbour,
  Thursday, August 12._

I have not much to relate. Our voyage has not been what we intended,
_mais l’homme propose et Dieu dispose_; for instead of being at
_Falmouth_ we are only at _Dartmouth_! We started at five o’clock, and
soon after felt the vessel stop, and on inquiring, heard that the fog
was so thick it was impossible to proceed. At last Captain Smithett
was sent out in the “Garland” to report on the state of the weather;
and he soon returned, saying that all was clear enough to proceed
outside _The Needles_ (we were in _Alum Bay_). So we started again,
and, after breakfast, we came on deck, where I remained working and
talking; feeling quite well; but towards one o’clock the ground swell
had increased, and we decided to run into the harbour we now are in.


  _On Board the Victoria and Albert,
  Milford Haven, South Wales,
  Saturday, August 14._

Arrived here this afternoon at five. I will give an account of what has
passed since leaving _Dartmouth_. Thursday evening, after dining with
Charles, we went on deck, and found the whole town illuminated, and the
effect of its curious high houses running down quite into the still
sea, which reflected the illumination, was lovely,--the night being so
fine and calm.


  _Friday, August 13._

We started at four and reached the _Scilly Islands_ at three in the
afternoon; it had been very rough. The numerous little rocky islands,
in the midst of which we are lying, are very curious.

[Illustration]

_St. Mary’s_, the principal island, has a little town, a church, and
a small harbour. Exactly opposite, on the isle of _Tresco_, is Mr.
Smith’s house; he has the lease of all the islands from the Duchy of
Cornwall. Farther to the left is _St. Agnes_, with a lighthouse and
innumerable rocks.

Albert (who, as well as Charles, has not been unwell, while I suffered
very much) went with Charles and Bertie to see one of the islands. The
children recover from their sea-sickness directly. When Albert and the
others returned, soon after five, we went with our ladies and gentlemen
in the barge across the harbour,--where, blue as the sea was, it was
still rather rough,--and landed at a little pier at _St. Mary’s_. The
harbour, surmounted by the old fort of the _Star Castle_, reminded
me of the harbour of _St. Heliers_. We got into a pony carriage
belonging to Mr. Smith, with Charles and Lady Jocelyn, and drove
through the place, which looks like a small fishing town, and then
round the fortifications of the castle, where there is a very pretty
walk overhanging the sea; the rock being covered with fern, and heath,
and furze. The extensive view of the islands and rocks around is very
beautiful. The town is built upon a very narrow strip of land, with a
small bay on either side. We got out at the old castle, which bears the
date of one of the Edwards. The view from the battlements is very fine.
We returned the same way we went, a little before seven.


  _Saturday, August 14._

We started at five o’clock, and the yacht then began to roll and pitch
dreadfully, and I felt again very unwell; but I came on deck at three
in the afternoon, the sea then was like glass, and we were close to the
Welsh coast.

This harbour, _Milford Haven_, is magnificent; the largest we have; a
fleet might lie here. We are anchored just off _Milford_. _Pembroke_ in
front, in the distance. The cliffs, which are reddish brown, are not
very high. Albert and Charles went in the “Fairy” to _Pembroke_, and I
sketched. Numbers of boats came out, with Welshwomen in their curious
high-crowned men’s hats; and Bertie was much cheered, for the people
seemed greatly pleased to see the “Prince of Wales.” Albert returned at
a quarter to eight.

[Illustration]

A very pretty dairymaid, in complete Welsh costume, was brought on
board for me to see. We found _Milford_ illuminated when we went on
deck, and bonfires burning everywhere.


  _Sunday, August 15._

We started again at four o’clock, but this time had a beautiful day,
with the sea smooth the whole way. About eleven we saw the mountainous
coast of _Caernarvonshire_; the hills, which are in fact high
mountains, are bold and finely shaped, and, Albert said, reminded him
much of _Ischia_, with the beautiful deep blue sea and bright sky.

Having arrived at the entrance of the _Menai Straits_, we all left the
“Victoria and Albert,” and went on board the “Fairy.” The “Victoria
and Albert” with the “Black Eagle” (the two equerries having joined
us), the “Undine” and “Scourge,” proceeded round the _Isle of Anglesea_
by _Holyhead_, and, in the “Fairy,” accompanied by the “Garland,” we
went into the _Straits_. As we entered, the view of the fine mountains
with their rich verdure--_Snowdon_ rising splendidly in the midst--and
of the fields and woods below, was really glorious. To the left the
country is extremely flat. Then _Caernarvon_ came in sight, with its
grand old Castle so finely situated. We stopped for a few moments off
here, but did not land. The mountains disappeared for a while, and
then re-appeared more beautiful than ever. We passed close to _Plas
Newydd_, where we had spent six weeks fifteen years ago. I felt as if I
remembered it all very well; but admired the scenery even more than I
had expected from my previous recollection.

We passed the famous _Swilly Rocks_, and saw the works they are
making for the tube for the railroad, and then went under the _Menai
Bridge_ and stopped immediately on the other side. There were crowds
of loyal people in steamers and boats, playing “God save the Queen,”
and cheering tremendously. Albert and Charles landed and walked over
the bridge. When they returned we went on again, and stopped in a most
beautiful spot, with almost Swiss scenery, opposite _Penrhyn Castle_,
Colonel Douglas Pennant’s (which I saw in the late possessor’s time
unfinished), and near _Bangor_, with its wooded banks, through which
one can see the high-road to _Beaumaris_. The purple hills, with the
verdure below, and the blue sea, were extremely picturesque.

Albert and Charles went to see _Penrhyn_. As soon as they returned we
dined below in the “Fairy,” and at eight we returned, with the children
and all our people, to the “Victoria and Albert.” The evening was
beautiful and the day very successful.


  _Monday, August 16._

We woke soon after four o’clock, when getting under weigh, and were
surprised to feel the yacht stop not an hour after. Something had gone
wrong with the paddle-wheel--just as happened last year--and it took
full two hours to set it right. Then at seven we started afresh. A
beautiful morning with a very smooth sea. By half-past ten we were in
sight of the _Isle of Man_, which is a fine island with bold hills
and cliffs. A little before twelve we reached the point of the bay,
on which is the town of _Douglas_, very prettily situated, with a
picturesque castle near the lighthouse, on the extreme point of the
bay. We stopped off here for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour,--the
rocks were covered with people. From _Douglas_ to _Ramsay Bay_ the
hills and cliffs are high and bold; though _Ramsay_ itself is low.

For about two hours we were out of sight of land, and I was below
writing. When I came on deck at three o’clock the Scotch coast was
quite close; the _Mull of Galloway_, and then _Wigtownshire_. Albert
declared he saw the Irish coast, but I could not descry it. At five
we came in sight of _Loch Ryan_, and saw, to the left, _Ailsa Craig_
rising more than 1,000 feet perpendicularly from the sea. _Loch Ryan_
is very fine, and the hills and glens are lovely, particularly little
_Glen Finnart_. The loch is very large, and the hills here are very
high and wooded. The little town is called _Stranraer_.


  _Tuesday, August 17._

At six o’clock we began to move. A beautiful morning. At about
eight we were close to the _Ailsa Rock_ or _Craig_, the formation
of which is very curious. There were thousands and thousands of
birds,--gannets,--on the rock, and we fired a gun off three times in
order to bring them in reach of a shot--Albert and Charles tried, but
in vain. We next came in sight of the beautiful _Isle of Arran_. The
finest point is when you are before the _Holy Island_, and in sight of
the _Goatfell_ range of mountains. The highest is about 2,800 feet;
they are peculiarly fine from their bold pointed outlines. Before them
is _Lamlash_. After passing _Holy Island_ we came to _Brodick Bay_,
which is beautiful, with high hills and a glen; in front of which, and
surrounded by wood, is the castle which Lord Douglas is building. Not
long after this we came in sight of the _Isle of Bute_, and entered the
_Clyde_, the view of which from Mr. Stuart’s and Lord Bute’s property
is beautiful: high wooded banks, the river opening out and widening,
surrounded by the distant mountains. A small place to the right called
_Largs_ is very prettily situated.

At half-past twelve we reached _Greenock_, the port of _Glasgow_. The
shore and the ships were crowded with people, there being no less (as
I since learnt) than thirty-nine steamers, over-filled with people,
which almost all followed us! Such a thing never was seen. Add to these
steamers boats and ships of all descriptions, moving in all directions;
but not getting out of the way! We, however, got safe on board the
“Fairy,” and steamed up the _Clyde_; it was hazy, and we could not
see the distance well. We passed the small town of _Port Glasgow_,
and about one o’clock were at _Dumbarton Castle_. Its situation is
very fine, the rock rising straight out of the river, the mountains
all round, and the town of _Dumbarton_ behind it, making it very
picturesque. We landed just below the Castle, and went with Charles and
the children in a carriage to the fort. There was a great crowd, but
excellent order kept. We went to the battery, but had to mount many
steps to get to it. Wallace was confined here; and it was one of the
last castles which held out for Mary Queen of Scots. From the battery
there is a very extensive view of the _Clyde_ and _Dumbarton_, and we
ought to have been able to see _Ben Lomond_; but it was in mist.

We got back to the “Fairy” by half-past two, and returned to
_Greenock_, escorted by nineteen steamers. Steamed past _Greenock_, and
went on towards _Loch Long_, passing _Roseneath_ to the right, where
the present Duke and Duchess of Argyll live. _Loch Long_ is indeed
splendid, 15 miles in length, surrounded by grand hills, with such
beautiful outlines, and very green--all so different from the eastern
part of _Scotland_--the loch winding along most beautifully, so as to
seem closed at times. Charles said it reminded him of _Switzerland_ and
the _Tyrol_. The finest point of _Loch Long_ is looking towards _Loch
Goil_. We had a very good sight of the mountain called _The Cobbler_;
the top of which resembles a man sitting and mending his shoe! At the
end of the loch we got a glimpse of _Ben Lomond_, and were, in fact,
very near _Loch Lomond_.

We returned as we came. There was no sun, and once or twice a little
mist; but still it was beautiful. We went on to _Rothsay_, which we
reached at eight o’clock, and immediately went on board the “Victoria
and Albert,” greatly tired but much amused and interested.

The children enjoy everything extremely, and bear the novelty and
excitement wonderfully. The people cheered the “Duke of Rothsay”[19]
very much, and also called for a cheer for the “Princess of Great
Britain.” Everywhere the good Highlanders are very enthusiastic.
_Rothsay_ is a pretty little town, built round a fine bay, with hills
in the distance, and a fine harbour. When we went on deck after dinner,
we found the whole town brilliantly illuminated, with every window lit
up, which had a very pretty effect.

[19] A title belonging to the eldest son of the Sovereign of Scotland,
and therefore held by the Prince of Wales as eldest son of the Queen,
the representative of the ancient Kings of Scotland.


  _Wednesday, August 18._

A bright fresh morning, the hills slightly tipped with clouds. At eight
o’clock we all went on board the “Fairy,” and went up the _Kyles of
Bute_, which, as you advance, become very fine, the hills lying so
curiously one behind the other, sometimes apparently closing up all
outlet.

[Illustration]

We saw _Arran_ to the left, looking very grand in the distance. We have
been turning about a good deal since yesterday, for we went by _Arran_
and _Holy Island_, and then left _Little_ and _Great Cumbray_ to our
left, and went up to _Dumbarton_ and back, and on to _Loch Long_, and
then to _Rothsay_, leaving _Arran_ to our left; then, after passing
_Arran_, we entered _Loch Fyne_. I, however, had a headache, and was
obliged to lie down below, and only came on deck again when we were
within an hour of _Inverary_; where the lake widens, and the hills on
either side are very green and undulating, but not very high.

The approach to _Inverary_ is splendid; the loch is very wide; straight
before you a fine range of mountains splendidly lit up,--green, pink,
and lilac; to the left the little town of _Inverary_; and above it,
surrounded by pine woods, stands the Castle of _Inverary_, square, with
turrets at the corners.

Our reception was in the true Highland fashion. The Duke and Duchess of
Argyll (dear Lady Elizabeth Leveson Gower), the Duchess of Sutherland,
Lord Stafford, Lady Caroline Leveson Gower, and the Blantyres received
us at the landing-place, which was all ornamented with heather. The
Celtic Society, including Campbell of Islay, his two sons (one grown
up and the other a very pretty little boy), with a number of his men,
and several other Campbells, were all drawn up near to the carriage. We
got into a carriage with the two Duchesses, Charles and the Duke being
on the box (we had left the children on board the “Fairy”), and took a
beautiful drive amongst magnificent trees, and along a glen where we
saw _Ben Sheerar_, &c. The weather was particularly fine, and we were
much struck by the extreme beauty of _Inverary_--presenting as it does
such a combination of magnificent timber, with high mountains, and a
noble lake.

The pipers walked before the carriage, and the Highlanders on either
side, as we approached the house. Outside stood the Marquis of Lorn,
just two years old, a dear, white, fat, fair little fellow with reddish
hair, but very delicate features, like both his father and mother: he
is such a merry, independent little child. He had a black velvet dress
and jacket, with a “sporran,” scarf, and Highland bonnet. We lunched at
two with our hosts; the Highland gentlemen standing with halberds in
the room. We sent for our children, who arrived during luncheon time.
We left _Inverary_ before three, and took the children with us in the
carriage. The Argylls, the Duchess of Sutherland, and the others,
accompanied us on board the “Fairy,” where we took leave of them.

The light on the hills was beautiful as we steamed down _Loch Fyne_. At
five we reached _Lochgilp_, and all landed at _Lochgilphead_, a small
village where there were numbers of people, and, amongst others, Sir
John P. Orde, who lent his carriage and was extremely civil. We and our
people drove through the little village to the _Crinan Canal_, where we
entered a most magnificently decorated barge, drawn by three horses,
ridden by postilions in scarlet. We glided along very smoothly, and the
views of the hills--the range of _Cruachan_--were very fine indeed;
but the eleven locks we had to go through--(a very curious process,
first passing several by rising, and then others by going down)--were
tedious, and instead of the passage lasting one hour-and-a-half, it
lasted upwards of two hours and a half, therefore it was nearly eight
o’clock before we reached _Loch Crinan_. We instantly went on board
the “Victoria and Albert,” but it was too late to proceed to _Oban_;
we had, therefore, to lengthen our voyage by a day, and spent the
night at _Crinan_. It is a very fine spot, hills all round, and, in
the distance, those of the island of _Jura_. The yacht had had a good
passage round the _Mull of Cantire_. We dined with Charles, and went on
deck; and the blaze of the numerous bonfires--the half moon, the stars,
and the extreme stillness of the night--had a charming effect.


  _Thursday, August 19._

A beautiful day. At nine o’clock we left _Crinan_, proceeding to the
right, up splendid passes, with myriads of islands, and such enchanting
views, that I cannot enumerate them. We passed first up the _Sound
of Jura_, where numbers of people met us in small boats, decorated
with little flags; then up the _Pass of Kerrera_ to _Oban_, one of
the finest spots we have seen, with the ruins of the old _Castle of
Dunolly_ and a range of high mountains in the distance. To the left,
after leaving _Oban_, we saw the _Isle of Kerrera_, and to the right
_Dunstaffnage Castle_, whence came the famous stone which supports the
“Coronation Chair,” in which the sovereigns are crowned at _Westminster
Abbey_. Alexander II. is said to be buried here. We passed close by the
flat rock, called _The Lady’s Rock_, on which a McLean left his wife,
hoping she would be washed away--she was saved however.

We then came into the _Sound of Mull_ by _Tobermory_, a small place
prettily situated, and from thence the views continued beautiful. At
one o’clock we were in sight of the _Isles of Rum_, _Eig_ and _Muck_
(rather large islands, which Lord Salisbury bought a few years ago).
Next we passed the long, flat, curious islands of _Coll_ and _Tiree_.
The inhabitants of these islands have, unhappily, been terrible
sufferers during the last winter from famine. A little further on we
saw, to our right, the _Treshinish Isles_, very curiously-shaped rocks:
one is called _The Dutchman’s Cap_, and has the most strange shape,
thus--

[Illustration]

At three we anchored close before _Staffa_, and immediately got into
the barge with Charles, the children, and the rest of our people,
and rowed towards the cave. As we rounded the point, the wonderful
basaltic formation came in sight. The appearance it presents is most
extraordinary; and when we turned the corner to go into the renowned
_Fingal’s Cave_, the effect was splendid, like a great entrance into
a vaulted hall: it looked almost awful as we entered, and the barge
heaved up and down on the swell of the sea. It is very high, but not
longer than 227 feet, and narrower than I expected, being only 40 feet
wide. The sea is immensely deep in the cave. The rocks, under water,
were all colours--pink, blue, and green--which had a most beautiful
and varied effect. It was the first time the British standard with a
Queen of Great Britain, and her husband and children, had ever entered
_Fingal’s Cave_, and the men gave three cheers, which sounded very
impressive there. We backed out, and then went on a little further to
look at the other cave, not of basaltic formation, and at the point
called _The Herdsman_. The swell was beginning to get up, and perhaps
an hour later we could not have gone in.

We returned to the yacht, but Albert and Charles landed again at
_Staffa_. They returned in three-quarters of an hour, and we then went
on to _Iona_; here Albert and Charles landed, and were absent an hour.
I and the ladies sketched. We saw from the yacht the ruins of the old
cathedral of _St. Oran_. When Albert and Charles returned, they said
the ruins were very curious, there had been two monasteries there, and
fine old crosses and tombs of ancient kings were still to be seen. I
must see it some other time. On Albert’s return we went on again, and
reached _Tobermory_ at nine. The place was all illuminated.


  _Friday, August 20._

A wet morning when we rose at half-past seven, and it was pouring with
rain when we left _Tobermory_ at half-past eight. I went down, and drew
and painted. It cleared up about half-past ten, and I came on deck.
The scenery in _Loch Linnhe_ was magnificent--such beautiful mountains.
From _Loch Linnhe_ we entered _Loch Eil_, and passed the entrance
of _Loch Leven_ to the right, at the end of which is _Glencoe_, so
famous for its beautiful scenery and for the horrible massacre of the
Macdonalds, in William III.’s time.

A little before one we arrived at _Fort William_, a very small place.
The afternoon was very bright, and the scenery fine. After luncheon
Albert and Charles set off in the “Fairy” to see _Glencoe_. They
returned at twenty minutes past seven, and Albert thought _Glencoe_ was
very fine, though not quite as much so as he had expected. They had
driven in an extraordinary carriage, with seats for thirty. The people,
who recognized Albert, were so loyal that they took the horses out and
insisted on drawing the carriage.

The evening was excessively cold and showery.

I am quite sorry we shall have to leave our yacht to-morrow, in which
we have been so comfortably housed, and that this delightful voyage
and tour among the Western Lochs and Isles is at an end--they are
so beautiful,--and so full of poetry and romance, traditions, and
historical associations.


  _Ardverikie, Loch Laggan, Saturday, August 21._

Alas! a very wet morning. We were ready long before nine o’clock, but
had to wait, as our carriages were not ready. At last we all landed
at _Fort William_, where there was a great gathering of Highlanders,
in their different tartans, with Lord Lovat and Mr. Stuart Mackenzie
at their head. We got into our carriage with Charles and the two
children; there was a great crowd to see us off. We went by a very
wild and lonely road, the latter part extremely fine, with mountains
and streams that reminded us of _Glen Tilt_. We changed horses only
once, and came at length in sight of _Loch Laggan_. It is a beautiful
lake (small in comparison to what we have seen) surrounded by very
fine mountains: the road by its side is extremely pretty. We saw Lord
Abercorn’s house of _Ardverikie_ long before we came to it. At _Laggan_
there is only a small inn, and at the end of the lake, a ferry. Here,
in spite of the pouring rain, were assembled a number of Highlanders,
with Macpherson of Cluny (always called Cluny Macpherson) and three
dear little boys of his, Davidson of Tulloch, and others, with Lord
Abercorn, in full Highland dress. We stepped out of our carriage and
stood upon the floating bridge, and so crossed over in two or three
minutes. We then drove on, in our pony carriages, to _Ardverikie_, and
arrived there in about twenty minutes. It is quite close to the lake,
and the view from the windows, as I now write, though obscured by
rain, is very beautiful, and extremely wild. There is not a village,
house, or cottage within four or five miles: one can only get to it by
the ferry, or by rowing across the lake. The house is a comfortable
shooting-lodge, built of stone, with many nice rooms in it. Stags’
horns are placed along the outside and in the passages; and the walls
of the drawing-room and ante-room are ornamented with beautiful
drawings of stags, by Landseer.

There is little to say of our stay at _Ardverikie_; the country is very
fine, but the weather was most dreadful.

On the 28th, about five o’clock, Albert drove me out across the ferry,
along the _Kingussie_ road, and from here the scenery was splendid:
high bold hills, with a good deal of wood; glens, with the _Pattock_,
and a small waterfall; the meadows here and there, with people making
hay, and cottages sprinkled sparingly about, reminded us much of
_Thüringen_. We drove to the small farm, where Colonel Macpherson now
lives, called _Strathmashie_, and back again, 16 miles in all. We were
delighted with the scenery, which is singularly beautiful, wild and
romantic,--with so much fine wood about it, which greatly enhances the
beauty of a landscape.


  _Thursday, September 16._

Albert left at six this morning to go to _Inverness_ and see the
_Caledonian Canal_.


  _Friday, September 17._

At two o’clock I left _Ardverikie_ with the children, and reached _Fort
William_ at half-past six, where I had the happiness of finding Albert
on board the yacht. All had gone off well; but the weather had been
very bad. Albert said _Dochfour_ beautiful; the house new and very
elegant, with a fine garden, and Mr. and Lady Georgiana Baillie very
pleasant people.

Albert had to go to _Inverness_, and to stay for a ball that was held
there; and he was everywhere extremely well received. This morning he
saw the _Falls of Foyers_, which, he tells me, are very grand indeed;
and of a great height; and he says that the _Caledonian Canal_ is a
most remarkable work.


  _Loch Ryan, Saturday, September 18._

At five o’clock we left _Fort William_. Rather a fine morning; but
very squally, and the sea rough, even where we were. When we came on
deck, we were close to the _Isle of Jura_, which has such a fine, bold
outline. We went on to _Loch Crinan_, where we got into the barge:
here it was very rough and pouring with rain, so unlike the beautiful
evening when we were here a month ago. We landed at _Crinan_. Mr.
Malcolm, whose castle is just opposite, received us there, and we
entered the canal boat at ten. We proceeded more quickly than the last
time; the people kept running along as before, and there was a piper at
each lock. It rained almost the whole time. We reached _Lochgilphead_
at twelve, in pouring rain, and embarked on board the “Black Eagle.”
The yacht had again to go round the _Mull of Cantire_ and meet us at
_Campbeltown_. What a contrast to the weather we had when we came!

We got under weigh, and proceeded by _Kilbrannan Sound_ and _Arran_.
We went on deck for a little while, but were driven below by the
rain; later, however, it was possible to keep on deck. We reached
_Campbeltown_, a small and not pretty place, at the foot of _Cantire_,
at twenty minutes to five. About half an hour after we arrived the
yacht came in, with the “Garland,” “Fairy,” and “Scourge,” and we
immediately went on board. They had had a very bad passage, and
Captain Crispin said he was very glad that we had not been on board
the “Victoria and Albert.” This rather alarmed us for the next day’s
voyage, the more so as the evening was squally and the sky very
unpromising. There was a long consultation as to what was to be done,
and at last it was decided that we should start at four in the morning,
and if it were very rough, we should either run into _Loch Ryan_, the
_Mull of Galloway_, the _Bay of Ramsay_, or into _Douglas_ in the _Isle
of Man_.


  _Loch Ryan, Sunday, September 19._

We set off at four o’clock, the yacht rolling considerably; but it
was quite bearable; however, at seven they came to shut down the
port-holes, expecting a heavy sea, and Lord Adolphus saw Albert,
who had just got up, and said it would be very rough; upon which it
was decided to put back a little way, and to go into _Loch Ryan_; we
accordingly did so, and anchored there at half-past eight;--such a
dreary rainy day--one could hardly recognize what was so fine when we
were last in here.

Both now, and the time before when we were in _Loch Ryan_, Lord Orkney
very civilly sent us game and all sorts of things.

At twelve o’clock Lord Adolphus read the short sea-service. We
then talked over our voyage, and what could be done;--the day was
very wretched,--pouring with rain and blowing hard. It was at last
decided to start again at three, and get this evening to the _Mull
of Galloway_, which would only take us three hours, though it would
probably be rough. As soon as we were out of the loch the yacht began
to pitch, and the sea was dreadfully rough. I was very ill. Albert,
however, stood it perfectly, and the children very tolerably. Presently
we came in sight of the _Mull of Galloway_, a great rock with a
lighthouse on it;--and this was our last glimpse of dear _Scotland_.


  _Monday, September 20._

At six o’clock we got under weigh, and after considerable “rockings,”
which lasted for nearly two hours, we were near the _Isle of Man_, in
smooth water, and at half-past eight anchored in _Ramsay Bay_.

Albert went on shore, and meantime the Bishop of Sodor and Man, with
others, came on board. Albert returned at twelve. At one o’clock we
started again. We had to go slowly at first, as our paddle-wheel again
got wrong, and because we should otherwise have arrived before we were
expected.

We anchored at seven in _Fleetwood Harbour_; the entrance was extremely
narrow and difficult. We were lashed close to the pier, to prevent our
being turned by the tide; and when I went on deck there was a great
commotion, such running and calling, and pulling of ropes, &c. It was a
cheerless evening, blowing hard.


  _Tuesday, September 21._

At ten o’clock we landed, and proceeded by rail to _London_.




_LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS_,

1848 TO 1861.


    Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
    Land of the mountain and the flood,
    Land of my sires! what mortal hand
    Can e’er untie the filial band
    That knits me to thy rugged strand!
    Still, as I view each well-known scene,
    Think what is now, and what hath been,
    Seems as, to me, of all bereft,
    Sole friends thy woods and streams are left;
    And thus I love them better still,
    Even in extremity of ill.

    _The Lay of the Last Minstrel._

[Illustration: BALMORAL.--THE OLD CASTLE.

_After a Sketch by Wild._]




FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF BALMORAL.


  _Balmoral, Friday, September 8, 1848._

We arrived at _Balmoral_ at a quarter to three. It is a pretty little
castle in the old Scottish style. There is a picturesque tower and
garden in front, with a high wooded hill; at the back there is wood
down to the _Dee_; and the hills rise all around.

There is a nice little hall, with a billiard-room; next to it is the
dining-room. Upstairs (ascending by a good broad staircase) immediately
to the right, and above the dining-room, is our sitting-room (formerly
the drawing-room), a fine large room--next to which is our bed-room,
opening into a little dressing-room which is Albert’s. Opposite, down
a few steps, are the children’s and Miss Hildyard’s three rooms. The
ladies live below, and the gentlemen upstairs.

We lunched almost immediately, and at half-past four we walked out,
and went up to the top of the wooded hill opposite our windows, where
there is a cairn, and up which there is a pretty winding path. The
view from here, looking down upon the house, is charming. To the left
you look towards the beautiful hills surrounding _Loch-na-Gar_, and
to the right, towards _Ballater_, to the glen (or valley) along which
the _Dee_ winds, with beautiful wooded hills, which reminded us very
much of the _Thüringerwald_. It was so calm, and so solitary, it did
one good as one gazed around; and the pure mountain air was most
refreshing. All seemed to breathe freedom and peace, and to make one
forget the world and its sad turmoils.

The scenery is wild, and yet not desolate; and everything looks much
more prosperous and cultivated than at _Laggan_. Then the soil is
delightfully dry. We walked beside the _Dee_, a beautiful, rapid
stream, which is close behind the house. The view of the hills towards
_Invercauld_ is exceedingly fine.

When I came in at half-past six, Albert went out to try his luck with
some stags which lay quite close in the woods, but he was unsuccessful.
They come down of an evening quite near to the house.




FIRST ASCENT OF LOCH-NA-GAR.


  _Saturday, September 16, 1848._

At half-past nine o’clock Albert and I set off in a postchaise,
and drove to the bridge in the wood of _Balloch Buie_, about five
miles from _Balmoral_, where our ponies and people were. Here we
mounted, and were attended by a keeper of Mr. Farquharson’s as guide,
Macdonald[20]--who, with his shooting-jacket, and in his kilt, looked
a picture--Grant[21] on a pony, with our luncheon in two baskets,
and Batterbury[22] on another pony. We went through that beautiful
wood for about a mile, and then turned and began to ascend gradually,
the view getting finer and finer; no road, but not bad ground--moss,
heather, and stones. Albert saw some deer when we had been out about
three-quarters of an hour, and ran off to stalk them, while I rested;
but he arrived just a minute too late. He waited for me on the other
side of a stony little burn, which I crossed on my pony, after our
faithful Highlanders had moved some stones and made it easier. We then
went on a little way, and I got off and walked a bit, and afterwards
remounted; Macdonald leading my pony. The view of _Ben-na-Bhourd_, and
indeed of all around, was very beautiful; but as we rose higher we saw
mist over _Loch-na-Gar_. Albert left me to go after ptarmigan, and went
on with Grant, while the others remained with me, taking the greatest
care of me. Macdonald is a good honest man, and was indefatigable, and
poor Batterbury was very anxious also.

[20] A Jäger of the Prince’s, who came from Fort Augustus in the west:
he was remarkably tall and handsome. The poor man died of consumption
at Windsor, in May, 1860. His eldest son was Attaché to the British
Legation in Japan. He died in 1866. The third son, Archie, is Jäger to
the Prince of Wales, and was for a year with the beloved Prince.

[21] Head-keeper. He had been nearly twenty years with Sir Robert
Gordon, nine as keeper; he was born in Braemar, in the year 1810. He
is an excellent man, most trustworthy, of singular shrewdness and
discretion, and most devotedly attached to the Prince and myself.
He has a fine intelligent countenance. The Prince was very fond of
him. He has six sons,--the second, Alick, is wardrobe-man to our son
Leopold: all are good, well-disposed lads, and getting on well in their
different occupations. His mother, a fine, hale, old woman of eighty
years, “stops” in a small cottage which the Prince built for her in our
village. He, himself, lives in a pretty Lodge called Croft, a mile from
Balmoral, which the Prince built for him.

[22] A groom (now dead some years) who followed me in his ordinary
dress, with thin boots and gaiters, and seemed anything but happy. He
hardly ever attended me after this.

I saw ptarmigan get up, and Albert fire--he then disappeared from
my sight, and I rode on. It became cold and misty when we were on
_Loch-na-Gar_. In half an hour, or rather less, Albert rejoined me with
two ptarmigan, having come up by a shorter way. Here it was quite soft,
easy walking, and we looked down on two small lochs called _Na Nian_,
which were very striking, being so high up in the hills. Albert was
tired, and remounted his pony; I had also been walking a little way.
The ascent commenced, and with it a very thick fog, and when we had
nearly reached the top of _Loch-na-Gar_, the mist drifted in thick
clouds so as to hide everything not within one hundred yards of us.
Near the peak (the fine point of the mountain which is seen so well
from above Grant’s house) we got off and walked, and climbed up some
steep stones, to a place where we found a seat in a little nook, and
had some luncheon. It was just two o’clock, so we had taken four hours
going up.

But, alas! nothing whatever to be seen; and it was cold, and wet, and
cheerless. At about twenty minutes after two we set off on our way
downwards, the wind blowing a hurricane, and the mist being like rain,
and everything quite dark with it. Bowman (Mr. Farquharson’s keeper)
and Macdonald, who preceded us, looked like ghosts. We walked some way
till I was quite breathless, and remounted my pony, well wrapped up
in plaids; and we came down by the same path that Albert had come up,
which is shorter, but steeper; the pony went delightfully; but the mist
made me feel cheerless.

Albert kept ahead a little while for ptarmigan, but he gave it up
again. When we had gone on about an hour and a quarter, or an-hour-and-
a-half, the fog disappeared like magic, and all was sunshine below,
about one thousand feet from the top I should say. Most provoking!--and
yet one felt happy to see sunshine and daylight again.

The view, as one descends, overlooking _Invercauld_ and the wood which
is called _Balloch Buie_, is most lovely. We saw some deer in the wood
below. We rode on till after we passed the burn, and had nearly got to
the wood. We came another way down, by a much rougher path; and then,
from the road in the wood, we walked up to the _Falls of the Garbhalt_,
which are beautiful. The rocks are very grand, and the view from the
little bridge, and also from a seat a little lower down, is extremely
pretty. We found our carriages in the road, and drove home by six
o’clock.

We met Captain Gordon, and then Lord John Russell and Sir James Clark.
They had come to look after us, and when we got home we found the two
ladies at the door waiting most anxiously for us.




A “DRIVE” IN THE BALLOCH BUIE.


  _September 18, 1848._

At a quarter-past ten o’clock we set off in a postchaise with Bertie,
and drove beyond the house of Mr. Farquharson’s keeper in the _Balloch
Buie_. We then mounted our ponies, Bertie riding Grant’s pony on the
deer-saddle, and being led by a gillie, Grant walking by his side.
Macdonald and several gillies were with us, and we were preceded by
Bowman and old Arthur Farquharson, a deer-stalker of Invercauld’s.
They took us up a beautiful path winding through the trees and heather
in the _Balloch Buie_; but when we had got about a mile or more they
discovered deer. A “council of war” was held in a whisper, and we
turned back and went the whole way down again, and rode along to the
keeper’s lodge, where we turned up the glen immediately below _Craig
Daign_, through a beautiful part of the wood, and went on along the
track, till we came to the foot of the craig, where we all dismounted.

We scrambled up an almost perpendicular place to where there was a
little _box_, made of hurdles and interwoven with branches of fir and
heather, about five feet in height. There we seated ourselves with
Bertie, Macdonald lying in the heather near us, watching and quite
concealed; some had gone round to beat, and others again were at a
little distance. We sat quite still, and sketched a little; I doing
the landscape and some trees, Albert drawing Macdonald as he lay
there. This lasted for nearly an hour, when Albert fancied he heard a
distant sound, and, in a few minutes, Macdonald whispered that he saw
stags, and that Albert should wait and take a steady aim. We then heard
them coming past. Albert did not look over the box, but through it,
and fired through the branches, and then again over the box. The deer
retreated; but Albert felt certain he had hit a stag. He ran up to the
keepers, and at that moment they called from below that they “had got
him,” and Albert ran on to see. I waited for a bit; but soon scrambled
on with Bertie and Macdonald’s help; and Albert joined me directly,
and we all went down and saw a magnificent stag, “a royal,” which had
dropped, soon after Albert had hit him, at one of the men’s feet. The
sport was successful, and every one was delighted,--Macdonald and the
keepers in particular;--the former saying, “that it was her Majesty’s
coming out that had brought the good luck.” I was supposed to have “a
lucky foot,” of which the Highlanders “think a great deal.” We walked
down to the place we last came up, got into the carriage, and were home
by half-past two o’clock.




The First Stay at Alt-na-Giuthasach.


  _August 30, 1849._

After writing our letters, we set off on our ponies, with Miss
Dawson,[23] Macdonald, Grant, Batterbury, and Hamis Coutts; Hamis
is Gaelic for James, and is pronounced “Hamish.” The road has been
improved since last year, and though it is still very rough, there are
no fords to pass, nor real difficulties any longer. We rode the whole
way, and Albert only walked the last two miles. He took a Gaelic lesson
during our ride, asking Macdonald, who speaks it with great purity,
many words, and making him talk to Jemmie Coutts. Albert has already
picked up many words: but it is a very difficult language, for it is
pronounced in a totally different way from that in which it is written.

[23] Now Hon. Mrs. Parnell.

[Illustration: THE SHIEL OF ALT-NA-GIUTHASACH.

_After a Sketch by the Queen._]

We arrived at our little “bothie” at two o’clock, and were amazed at
the transformation. There are two huts, and to the one in which we live
a wooden addition has been made. We have a charming little dining-room,
sitting-room, bed-room, and dressing-room, all _en suite_; and there
is a little room where Caroline Dawson (the Maid of Honour) sleeps,
one for her maid, and a little pantry. In the other house, which is
only a few yards distant, is the kitchen, where the people generally
sit, a small room where the servants dine, and another, which is a
sort of store-room, and a loft above in which the men sleep. Margaret
French (my maid), Caroline’s maid, Löhlein[24] (Albert’s valet), a
cook, Shackle[25] (a footman), and Macdonald, are the only people with
us in the house, old John Gordon and his wife excepted. Our rooms are
delightfully papered, the ceilings as well as walls, and very nicely
furnished. We lunched as soon as we arrived, and at three walked down
(about twenty minutes’ walk) to the loch called “Muich;” which some say
means “darkness” or “sorrow.” Here we found a large boat, into which
we all got, and Macdonald, Duncan, Grant, and Coutts rowed; old John
Gordon and two others going in another boat with the net. They rowed up
to the head of the loch, to where the _Muich_ runs down out of the _Dhu
Loch_, which is on the other side.

[24] This faithful and trusty valet nursed his dear master most
devotedly through his sad illness in December, 1861, and is now always
with me as my personal groom of the chambers or valet. I gave him a
house near Windsor Castle, where he resides when the Court are there.
He is a native of Coburg. His father has been for fifty years Förster
at Fülbach, close to Coburg.

[25] Who was very active and efficient. He is now a Page.

The scenery is beautiful here, so wild and grand,--real severe Highland
scenery, with trees in the hollow. We had various scrambles in and
out of the boat and along the shore, and saw three hawks, and caught
seventy trout. I wish an artist could have been there to sketch the
scene; it was so picturesque--the boat, the net, and the people in
their kilts in the water, and on the shore. In going back, Albert rowed
and Macdonald steered; and the lights were beautiful.

We came home at a quarter-past seven. At eight we dined; Löhlein,
Macdonald, and Shackle waiting on us.

After dinner we played with Caroline Dawson at whist with dummy, and
afterwards walked round the little garden. The silence and solitude,
only interrupted by the waving of the fir-trees, were very solemn and
striking.




A BEAT IN THE ABERGELDIE WOODS.


  _September 3, 1849._

At a quarter-past eleven we drove (the three gentlemen going in another
carriage) to the road along which we went with Lord Portman the other
day, and up to a small path, where I mounted my pony, Albert and the
others walking. We came to _Geannachoil_, and Albert was much pleased
with the splendid view. The lights were most beautiful, but the heat
was overpowering, and the sun burning

We turned to the right when out on the moors, where I got off and
walked; and we seated ourselves behind a large stone, no one but
Macdonald with us, who loaded the guns, and gave notice when anything
was to be seen, as he lay upon the ground. The gentlemen were below
in the road; the wood was beat, but nothing came, so we walked on and
came down a beautiful thickly-wooded glen; and after a good deal of
scrambling to get there, and to get up one side of the glen, we sat
down again. We then scrambled over to the opposite side, where we again
concealed ourselves; in this beat Albert shot a roe, and I think would
have shot more had they not been turned back by the sudden appearance
of an old woman who, looking like a witch, came along through the wood
with two immense crutches, and disturbed the whole thing. Albert killed
the roe just as she was coming along, and the shot startled her very
much; she was told to come down, which she did, and sat below in the
glen, motionless, having covered her head with her handkerchief. When
two of the beaters came down and were told to take up the roe, they
first saw the old woman, and started, and stared with horror--which
was very amusing to see. I rode a little way afterwards, and then we
seated ourselves behind a bush, in the rear of the wood, close to the
distillery; but this beat brought nothing. Albert killed a young black
cock before we came to the second beat. We were home at a quarter-past
three o’clock.




VISIT TO THE DHU LOCH, &c.


  _September 11, 1849._

The morning was very fine. I heard the children repeat some poetry in
German, and then at ten o’clock we set off with Lady Douro[26] in our
carriage, and drove on beyond _Inch Bobbard_, changing horses near
_Birkhall_, and stopping for a moment at the _Linn of Muich_; here we
found the ponies, which we mounted, forded the river, and were almost
immediately at the hut. We stopped there only for an instant, and
remounted our ponies directly; Grant, Macdonald (who led my pony the
whole time, and was extremely useful and attentive), Jemmie Coutts
(leading Lady Douro’s pony), Charlie Coutts, and John Brown going with
us: old John Gordon leading the way. It was half-past twelve when we
began ascending the hill immediately behind the house, and proceeded
along over the hills, to a great height, whence the view was very fine,
quite overhanging the loch, and commanding an extensive view of _Glen
Muich_ beyond on the opposite side. The road got worse and worse. It
was particularly bad when we had to pass the _Burn of the Glassalt_,
which falls into the loch, and was very full. There had been so much
rain, that the burns and rivers were very full, and the ground quite
soft. We rode over the _Strone_ _Hill_, the wind blowing dreadfully
hard when we came to the top. Albert walked almost from the first, and
shot a hare and a grouse; he put up a good many of them. We walked to a
little hollow immediately above the _Dhu Loch_, and at half-past three
seated ourselves there, and had some very welcome luncheon. The loch is
only a mile in length, and very wild; the hills, which are very rocky
and precipitous, rising perpendicularly from it.

[26] Now Duchess of Wellington.

In about half an hour we began our journey homewards. We came straight
down beside the _Muich_, which falls in the most beautiful way over the
rocks and stones in the glen. We rode down, and only had to get off
to cross the _Glassalt_, which was an awkward ford to scramble over.
The road was rough, but certainly far less soft and disagreeable than
the one we came by. I rode “Lochnagar” at first, but changed him for
Colonel Gordon’s pony, as I thought he took fright at the bogs; but
Colonel Gordon’s was broken-winded, and struggled very much in the soft
ground, which was very disagreeable.

We were only an hour coming down to the boat. The evening was very
fine, but it blew very hard on the lake and the men could not pull,
and I got so alarmed that I begged to land, and Lady Douro was of my
opinion that it was much better to get out. We accordingly landed, and
rode home along a sort of sheep-path on the side of the lake, which
took us three-quarters of an hour. It was very rough and very narrow,
for the hill rises abruptly from the lake; we had seven hundred feet
above us, and I suppose one hundred feet below. However, we arrived
at the hut quite safely at twenty minutes to seven, thankful to have
got through all our difficulties and adventures, which are always very
pleasant to look back upon.

We dined a little before eight with Lady Douro, and played two rubbers
of whist with her.

Old John Gordon amused Albert by saying, in speaking of the bad road we
had gone, “It’s something steep and something rough,” and “this is the
only best,” meaning that it was _very_ bad,--which was a characteristic
reply.




ASCENT OF BEN-NA-BHOURD.


  _September 6, 1850._

At half-past ten o’clock we set off with Lady Douro and Ernest
Leiningen,[27] and drove to _Invercauld_, about three-quarters of a
mile beyond the house, where we found our people and ponies, together
with Arthur Farquharson, Shewin, and others. We then walked a little
way, after which we mounted our ponies and began the ascent towards
_Ben-na-Bhourd_; Macdonald leading my pony, good little “Lochnagar,”
and James Coutts Lady Douro’s. There is an excellent path, almost a
narrow road, made up to within the last two miles and a half, which
are very steep and rocky. The scenery is beautiful. We first rode up
a glen (where a stone of the house in which Finla, the first of the
Farquharsons, was born, is still shown,) through which the _Glassalt_
runs. Further on comes a very narrow, rocky, and precipitous glen,
called the _Sluggan_, said to mean the “swallow,” or “swallowing.”
Some little distance after this the country opens widely before you,
with _Ben-na-Bhourd_ rising towards the left; and then you enter the
_Forest of Mar_, which the Duke of Leeds rents from Lord Fife. There
is a very pretty little shooting-box, called _Sluggan Cottage_, which
is half way from _Invercauld_ to the top of _Ben-na-Bhourd_. Below
this is the _Quoich_, which we forded. The last bit of the real road
is a long steep ascent on the brow of a hill, the name of which means
the “Tooth’s craig.” (Macdonald translated all the names for us.) The
ascent, after the path ceases, is very stony; in fact, nothing but bare
granite. Albert had walked a great deal, and we ladies got off after
it became more uneven, and when we were no longer very far from the
top. We came upon a number of “cairngorms,” which we all began picking
up, and found some very pretty ones. At the top, which is perfectly
flat, the ground is entirely composed of stones or wet swampy moss,
and the granite seems to have stopped just a few feet below. We sat
down at a cairn and had our luncheon. The wind was extremely cold, but
whenever we got out of it, the air was very hot. The view from the
top was magnificent and most extensive: _Ben-na-Bhourd_ is 3,940 feet
high. We saw _Ben-y-Ghlo_ very clearly, _Cairngorm_ and _Ben Muich
Dhui_ quite close but in another direction; the _Moray Firth_, and,
through the glass, ships even could be seen; and on the other side rose
_Loch-na-Gar_, still the jewel of all the mountains here.

[27] Our nephew.

After luncheon we began our downward progress, and walked the whole of
the steep part till we reached the path; we came down very quickly,
my pony making great haste, though he had half a mind to kick. Albert
found some beautiful little rock crystals in the _Sluggan_, and walked
the remainder of the way; we ladies left our horses about a quarter of
a mile before we met the carriage. The whole distance from _Invercauld_
to the top of _Ben-na-Bhourd_ is nine miles, so we must have been at
least 18 miles riding and walking. It has been a delightful expedition.
It was six o’clock when we reached the carriage, and we were home at a
little past seven.




THE GATHERING.


  _September 12, 1850._

We lunched early, and then went at half-past two o’clock, with the
children and all our party, except Lady Douro, to the Gathering at the
_Castle of Braemar_, as we did last year. The Duffs, Farquharsons, the
Leeds’s, and those staying with them, and Captain Forbes[28] and forty
of his men who had come over from _Strath Don_, were there.[29] Some
of our people were there also. There were the usual games of “putting
the stone,” “throwing the hammer” and “caber,” and racing up the hill
of _Craig Cheunnich_, which was accomplished in less than six minutes
and a half; and we were all much pleased to see our gillie Duncan,[30]
who is an active, good-looking, young man, win. He was far before
the others the whole way. It is a fearful exertion. Mr. Farquharson
brought him up to me afterwards. Eighteen or nineteen started, and it
looked very pretty to see them run off in their different coloured
kilts, with their white shirts (the jackets or doublets they take
off for all the games), and scramble up through the wood, emerging
gradually at the edge of it, and climbing the hill.

[28] Now Sir Charles Forbes, of Castle Newe.

[29] A work shortly to be published, entitled _Highlanders of
Scotland_, by Kenneth Macleay, Esq., R.S.A., contains excellent
portraits of some of the men of these and other of the principal
Highland clans, as well as of the Retainers of the Royal Household.

[30] One of the keepers since 1851: an excellent, intelligent man, much
liked by the Prince. He, like many others, spit blood after running
the race up that steep hill in this short space of time, and he has
never been so strong since. The running up hill has in consequence
been discontinued. He lives in a cottage at the back of Craig Gowan
(commanding a beautiful view) called Robrech, which the Prince built
for him.

After this we went into the castle, and saw some dancing; the prettiest
was a reel by Mr. Farquharson’s children and some other children, and
the “Ghillie Callum” beautifully danced by John Athole Farquharson, the
fourth son. The twelve children were all there, including the baby, who
is two years old.

Mama, Charles, and Ernest joined us at _Braemar_. Mama enjoys it all
very much: it is her first visit to _Scotland_. We left after the
dancing.




SALMON LEISTERING.


  _September 13, 1850._

We walked with Charles, the boys, and Vicky to the river side above the
bridge, where all our tenants were assembled with poles and spears, or
rather “leisters” for catching salmon. They all went into the river,
walking up it, and then back again, poking about under all the stones
to bring fish up to where the men stood with the net. It had a very
pretty effect; about one hundred men wading through the river, some in
kilts with poles and spears, all very much excited. Not succeeding the
first time, we went higher up, and moved to three or four different
places, but did not get any salmon; one or two escaping. Albert stood
on a stone, and Colonel Gordon and Lord James Murray waded about the
whole time. Duncan, in spite of all his exertions yesterday, and having
besides walked to and from the Gathering, was the whole time in the
water. Not far from the laundry there was another trial, and here we
had a great fright. In one place there was a very deep pool, into which
two men very foolishly went, and one could not swim; we suddenly saw
them sink, and in one moment they seemed drowning, though surrounded by
people. There was a cry for help, and a general rush, including Albert,
towards the spot, which frightened me so much, that I grasped Lord
Carlisle’s arm in great agony. However, Dr. Robertson[31] swam in and
pulled the man out, and all was safely over; but it was a horrid moment.

[31] The gentleman who has had from the beginning the entire management
of our property at Balmoral, &c. He is highly esteemed, and is a
most amiable man, who has carried out all the Prince’s and my wishes
admirably.

A salmon was speared here by one of the men; after which we walked to
the ford, or quarry, where we were very successful, seven salmon being
caught, some in the net, and some speared. Though Albert stood in the
water some time he caught nothing: but the scene at this beautiful spot
was exciting and picturesque in the extreme. I wished for Landseer’s
pencil. The sun was intensely hot. We did not get back till after three
o’clock, and then took luncheon. The Duchess of Gordon came to see us
afterwards; and while she was still with us, Captain Forbes (who had
asked permission to do so) marched through the grounds with his men,
the pipers going in front. They stopped, and cheered three-times-three,
throwing up their bonnets. They then marched off; and we listened with
pleasure to the distant shouts and the sound of the pibroch.

We heard afterwards that our men had carried all Captain Forbes’s men
on their backs through the river. They saw the fishing going on, and
came to the water’s edge on the opposite side; and on being greeted by
our people, said they would come over, on which ours went across in one
moment and carried them over--Macdonald at their head carrying Captain
Forbes on his back. This was very courteous, and worthy of chivalrous
times.




LOCH MUICH.


  _September 16, 1850._

We reached the hut at three o’clock. At half-past four we walked
down to the loch, and got into the boat with our people: Duncan, J.
Brown,[32] P. Coutts,[33] and Leys rowing. They rowed mostly towards
the opposite side, which is very fine indeed, and deeply furrowed by
the torrents, which form glens and corries where birch and alder trees
grow close to the water’s edge. We landed on a sandy spot below a fine
glen, through which flows the _Black Burn_. It was very dry here; but
still very picturesque, with alder-trees and mountain-ash in full fruit
overhanging it. We afterwards landed at our usual place at the head
of the loch, which is magnificent; and rode back. A new road has been
made, and an excellent one it is, winding along above the lake.

[32] The same who, in 1858, became my regular attendant out of doors
everywhere in the Highlands; who commenced as gillie in 1849, and was
selected by Albert and me to go with my carriage. In 1851 he entered
our service permanently, and began in that year leading my pony,
and advanced step by step by his good conduct and intelligence. His
attention, care, and faithfulness cannot be exceeded; and the state
of my health, which of late years has been sorely tried and weakened,
renders such qualifications most valuable, and indeed, most needful in
a constant attendant upon all occasions. He has since (in December,
1865), most deservedly, been promoted to be an upper servant, and
my permanent personal attendant. He has all the independence and
elevated feelings peculiar to the Highland race, and is singularly
straightforward, simple-minded, kind-hearted, and disinterested;
always ready to oblige; and of a discretion rarely to be met with.
He is now in his fortieth year. His father was a small farmer, who
lived at the Bush on the opposite side to Balmoral. He is the second
of nine brothers,--three of whom have died--two are in Australia and
New Zealand, two are living in the neighbourhood of Balmoral; and the
youngest, Archie (Archiebald) is valet to our son Leopold, and is an
excellent, trustworthy young man.

[33] Now, since some years, piper to Farquharson of Invercauld.

The moon rose, and was beautifully reflected on the lake, which, with
its steep green hills, looked lovely. To add to the beauty, poetry, and
wildness of the scene, Coutts played in the boat; the men, who row very
quickly and well now, giving an occasional shout when he played a reel.
It reminded me of Sir Walter Scott’s lines in _The Lady of the Lake_:—

    “Ever, as on they bore, more loud
    And louder rung the pibroch proud.
    At first the sound, by distance tame,
    Mellow’d along the waters came,
    And, lingering long by cape and bay,
    Wail’d every harsher note away.”

We were home at a little past seven; and it was so still and pretty
as we entered the wood, and saw the light flickering from our humble
little abode.




TORCH-LIGHT BALL AT CORRIEMULZIE.


  _September 10, 1852._

We dined at a quarter-past six o’clock in morning gowns, (not ordinary
ones, but such as are worn at a “breakfast,”) and at seven started for
_Corriemulzie_, for a _torch-light ball_ in the open air. I wore a
white bonnet, a grey watered silk, and (according to Highland fashion)
my plaid scarf over my shoulder; and Albert his Highland dress which he
wears every evening. We drove in the postchaise; the two ladies, Lord
Derby and Colonel Gordon following in the other carriage.

It was a mild though threatening evening, but fortunately it kept fine.
We arrived there at half-past eight, by which time, of course, it was
quite dark. Mr. and Lady Agnes Duff[34] received us at the door, and
then took us at once through the house to the open space where the ball
was, which was hid from our view till the curtains were drawn asunder.
It was really a beautiful and most unusual sight. All the company were
assembled there. A space about one hundred feet in length and sixty
feet in width was boarded, and entirely surrounded by Highlanders
bearing torches, which were placed in sockets, and constantly
replenished. There were seven pipers playing together, Mackay[35]
leading--and they received us with the usual salute and three cheers,
and “Nis! nis! nis!” (pronounced: “Neesh! “neesh! neesh!” the Highland
“Hip! hip! hip!”) and again cheers; after which came a most animated
reel. There were about sixty people, exclusive of the Highlanders, of
whom there were also sixty; all the Highland gentlemen, and any who
were at all Scotch, were in kilts, the ladies in evening dresses. The
company and the Highlanders danced pretty nearly alternately. There
were two or three sword dances. We were upon a _haut pas_, over which
there was a canopy. The whole thing was admirably done, and very well
worth seeing. Albert was delighted with it. I must not omit to mention
a reel danced by eight Highlanders holding torches in their hands.

[34] Now Earl and Countess of Fife.

[35] My Piper from the year 1843, considered almost the first in
Scotland, who was recommended by the Marquis of Breadalbane; he
unfortunately went out of his mind in the year 1854, and died in 1855.
A brother of his was Piper to the Duke of Sussex.

We left at half-past nine o’clock, and were home by a little past
eleven. A long way certainly (14 miles I believe).




ACCOUNT OF THE NEWS OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON’S DEATH.


  _Alt-na-Giuthasach, Thursday, September 16, 1852._

We were startled this morning, at seven o’clock, by a letter from
Colonel Phipps, enclosing a telegraphic despatch with the report, from
the sixth edition of the _Sun_, of the Duke of Wellington’s death the
day before yesterday, which report, however, we did not at all believe.
Would to God that we had been right; and that this day had not been
cruelly saddened in the afternoon.

We breakfasted with Miss Seymour;[36] and, after writing and reading,
we started at a quarter to eleven with her and our Highland party.
The day was not cold, and would, in fact, have been very fine, if it
had not been for a constant succession of very slight showers, or
clouds coming down. We walked along the loch, the road up to which
is excellent. It has been widened and would admit of a carriage. We
arrived at the _Alt-na-Dearg_, a small burn and fall, which is very
fine and rapid. Up this a winding path has been made, upon which we
rode; though some parts are rather steep for riding. The burn falls
over red granite; and in the ravine grow birch, mountain-ash, and
alder. We got off and walked a good long way on the top of the very
steep hills overhanging the loch, to the _Stron_, and the _Moss of Mon
Elpie_, whence you overlook all the country belonging to Lord Panmure,
_Mount Keen_, the _Ogilvie Hills_, &c. We stopped to rest a little
while--though the walking is excellent, so hard and dry--on a point
overlooking the _Shiel of the Glassalt_, and the head of the loch. Here
I suddenly missed my watch, which the dear old Duke had given me; and,
not being certain whether I had put it on or not, I asked Mackenzie[37]
to go back and inquire. We walked on until we reached the higher part
of the _Glassalt_, which we stepped across. We had passed over the tops
of these hills on that expedition to the _Dhu Loch_ three years ago,
when the ground was so soft, that ponies could scarcely get along, the
roads were so very bad.

[36] Now Hon. Lady Biddulph.

[37] One of our keepers and a very good man; he lives at
Alt-na-Giuthasach.

Then we began the descent of the _Glassalt_, along which another path
has been admirably made. From here it is quite beautiful, so wild and
grand. The falls are equal to those of the _Bruar_ at _Blair_, and are
150 feet in height; the whole height to the foot of the loch being 500
feet. It looked very picturesque to see the ponies and Highlanders
winding along. We came, down to the _Shiel of the Glassalt_, lately
built, where there is a charming room for us, commanding a most lovely
view. Here we took the cold luncheon, which we had brought with us; and
after that we mounted our ponies, and rode to the _Dhu Loch_, along
a beautiful path which keeps well above the burn, that rushes along
over flat great slabs of stone. The scenery is exquisite. We passed a
small fall called the _Burn of the Spullan_ (“spout”). In half or three
quarters of an hour we were at the wild and picturesque _Dhu Loch_.

We got off our ponies, and I had just sat down to sketch, when
Mackenzie returned, saying my watch was safe at home, and bringing
letters: amongst them there was one from Lord Derby, which I tore
open, and alas! it contained the confirmation of the fatal news: that
_England’s_, or rather _Britain’s_ pride, her glory, her hero, the
greatest man she ever had produced, was no more! Sad day! Great and
irreparable national loss!

Lord Derby enclosed a few lines from Lord Charles Wellesley, saying
that his dear great father had died on Tuesday at three o’clock, after
a few hours’ illness and no suffering. God’s will be done! The day must
have come: the Duke was eighty-three. It is well for him that he has
been taken when still in the possession of his great mind, and without
a long illness,--but what a _loss_! One cannot think of this country
without “the Duke,”--our immortal hero!

In him centered almost every earthly honour a subject could possess.
His position was the highest a subject ever had,--above party,--looked
up to by all,--revered by the whole nation,--the friend of the
Sovereign;--and _how_ simply he carried these honours! With what
singleness of purpose, what straightforwardness, what courage, were
all the motives of his actions guided. The Crown never possessed,--and
I fear never _will_--so _devoted_, loyal, and faithful a subject, so
staunch a supporter! To _us_ (who alas! have lost, now, so many of
our valued and experienced friends,) his loss is _irreparable_, for
his readiness to aid and advise, if it could be of use to us, and to
overcome any and every difficulty, was unequalled. To Albert he showed
the greatest kindness and the utmost confidence. His experience and his
knowledge of the past were so great too; he was a link which connected
us with bygone times, with the last century. Not an eye will be dry in
the whole country.

We hastened down on foot to the head of _Loch Muich_; and then rode
home, in a heavy shower, to _Alt-na-Giuthasach_. Our whole enjoyment
was spoilt; a gloom overhung all of us.

We wrote to Lord Derby and Lord Charles Wellesley.




BUILDING THE CAIRN ON CRAIG GOWAN, &c.


  _Monday, October 11, 1852._

This day has been a very happy, lucky, and memorable one--our last! A
fine morning.

Albert had to see Mr. Walpole, and therefore it was nearly eleven
o’clock before we could go up to the top of _Craig Gowan_, to see the
cairn built, which was to commemorate our taking possession of this
dear place; the old cairn having been pulled down. We set off with all
the children, ladies, gentlemen, and a few of the servants, including
Macdonald and Grant, who had not already gone up; and at the _Moss
House_, which is half way, Mackay met us, and preceded us, playing,
Duncan and Donald Stewart[38] going before him, to the highest point of
_Craig Gowan_; where were assembled all the servants and tenants, with
their wives and children and old relations. All our little friends were
there: Mary Symons and Lizzie Stewart, the four Grants, and several
others.

[38] One of the keepers, whom we found here in 1848. He is an excellent
man, and was much liked by the Prince; he always led the dogs when
the Prince went out stalking. He lives in the Western Lodge, close to
Grant’s house, which was built for him by the Prince.

I then placed the first stone, after which Albert laid one, then the
children, according to their ages. All the ladies and gentlemen placed
one; and then every one came forward at once, each person carrying a
stone and placing it on the cairn. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were there;
Mackay played; and whisky was given to all. It took, I am sure, an
hour building; and whilst it was going on, some merry reels were
danced on a stone opposite. All the old people (even the gardener’s
wife from _Corbie Hall_, near _Abergeldie_,) danced; and many of the
children, Mary Symons and Lizzie Stewart especially, danced so nicely;
the latter with her hair all hanging down. Poor dear old “Monk,” Sir
Robert Gordon’s faithful old dog, was sitting there amongst us all.
At last, when the cairn, which is, I think, seven or eight feet high,
was nearly completed, Albert climbed up to the top of it, and placed
the last stone; after which three cheers were given. It was a gay,
pretty, and touching sight; and I felt almost inclined to cry. The view
was so beautiful over the dear hills; the day so fine; the whole so
_gemüthlich_. May God bless this place, and allow us yet to see it and
enjoy it many a long year!

[Illustration]

After luncheon, Albert decided to walk through the wood for the last
time, to have a last chance, and allowed Vicky and me to go with him.
At half-past three o’clock we started, got out at Grant’s, and walked
up part of _Carrop_, intending to go along the upper path, when a stag
was heard to roar, and we all turned into the wood. We crept along,
and got into the middle path. Albert soon left us to go lower, and we
sat down to wait for him; presently we heard a shot--then complete
silence--and, after another pause of some little time, three more
shots. This was again succeeded by complete silence. We sent some one
to look, who shortly after returned, saying the stag had been twice hit
and they were after him. Macdonald next went, and in about five minutes
we heard “Solomon” give tongue, and knew he had the stag at bay. We
listened a little while, and then began moving down hoping to arrive
in time; but the barking had ceased, and Albert had already killed the
stag; and on the road he lay, a little way beyond _Invergelder_--the
beauty that we had admired yesterday evening. He was a magnificent
animal, and I sat down and scratched a little sketch of him on a bit of
paper that Macdonald had in his pocket, which I put on a stone--while
Albert and Vicky, with the others, built a little cairn to mark the
spot. We heard, after I had finished my little scrawl, and the carriage
had joined us, that another stag had been seen near the road; and we
had not gone as far as the “Irons,”[39] before we saw one below the
road, looking so handsome. Albert jumped out and fired--the animal
fell, but rose again, and went on a little way, and Albert followed.
Very shortly after, however, we heard a cry, and ran down and found
Grant and Donald Stewart pulling up a stag with a very pretty head.
Albert had gone on, Grant went after him, and I and Vicky remained with
Donald Stewart, the stag, and the dogs. I sat down to sketch, and poor
Vicky, unfortunately, seated herself on a wasp’s nest, and was much
stung. Donald Stewart rescued her, for I could not, being myself too
much alarmed. Albert joined us in twenty minutes, unaware of having
killed the stag. What a delightful day! But sad that it should be
the last day! Home by half-past six. We found our beautiful stag had
arrived, and admired him much.

[39] These “Irons” are the levers of an old saw-mill which was pulled
down, and they were left there to be sold--between thirty and forty
years ago--and have remained there ever since, not being considered
worth selling, on account of the immense trouble of transporting them.




LAYING THE FOUNDATION STONE OF OUR NEW HOUSE.


  _September 28, 1853._

A fine morning early, but when we walked out at half-past ten
o’clock it began raining, and soon poured down without ceasing. Most
fortunately it cleared up before two, and the sun shone brightly for
the ceremony of laying the foundation stone of the new house. Mama and
all her party arrived from _Abergeldie_ a little before three. I annex
the Programme of the Ceremony, which was strictly adhered to, and was
really very interesting:—


PROGRAMME.

 The stone being prepared and suspended over that upon which it is
 to rest, (in which will be a cavity for the bottle containing the
 parchment and the coins):

 The workmen will be placed in a semicircle at a little distance from
 the stone, and the women and home servants in an inner semicircle.

 Her Majesty the Queen, and His Royal Highness the Prince, accompanied
 by the Royal Children, Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, and
 attended by Her Majesty’s guests and suite, will proceed from the
 house.

 Her Majesty, the Prince, and the Royal Family, will stand on the South
 side of the stone, the suite being behind and on each side of the
 Royal party.

 The Rev. Mr. Anderson will then pray for a blessing on the work. Her
 Majesty will affix her signature to the parchment, recording the day
 upon which the foundation stone was laid. Her Majesty’s signature
 will be followed by that of the Prince and the Royal Children, the
 Duchess of Kent, and any others that Her Majesty may command, and the
 parchment will be placed in the bottle.

 One of each of the current coins of the present reign will also be
 placed in the bottle, and the bottle having been sealed up, will be
 placed in the cavity. The trowel will then be delivered to Her Majesty
 by Mr. Smith of Aberdeen, the architect, and the mortar having been
 spread, the stone will be lowered.

 The level and square will then be applied, and their correctness
 having been ascertained, the mallet will be delivered to Her Majesty
 by Mr. Stuart (the clerk of the works), when Her Majesty will strike
 the stone and declare it to be laid. The cornucopia will be placed
 upon the stone, and the oil and wine poured out by Her Majesty.

 The pipes will play, and Her Majesty, with the Royal Family, will
 retire.

 As soon after as it can be got ready, the workmen will proceed to
 their dinner. After dinner, the following toasts will be given by Mr.
 Smith:—

 “The Queen.”

 “The Prince and the Royal Family.”

 “Prosperity to the house, and happiness to the inmates of Balmoral.”

 The workmen will then leave the dinner-room, and amuse themselves upon
 the green with Highland games till seven o’clock, when a dance will
 take place in the ball-room.

We walked round to the spot, preceded by Mackay. Mr. Anderson[40] made
a very appropriate prayer. The wind was very high; but else everything
went off as well as could possibly be desired.

[40] The Minister of Crathie: he died November, 1866.

The workmen and people all gave a cheer when the whole was concluded.
In about three-quarters of an hour’s time we went in to see the people
at their dinner; and after this walked over to _Craig Gowan_ for Albert
to get a chance for black game.

We dressed early, and went for twenty minutes before dinner to see
the people dancing in the ball-room, which they did with the greatest
spirit.




THE KIRK.


  _October 29, 1854._

We went to Kirk, as usual, at twelve o’clock. The service was performed
by the Rev. Norman McLeod, of _Glasgow_, son of Dr. McLeod, and
anything finer I never heard. The sermon, entirely extempore, was
quite admirable; so simple, and yet so eloquent, and so beautifully
argued and put. The text was from the account of the coming of
Nicodemus to Christ by night; St. John, chapter 3. Mr. McLeod showed
in the sermon how we _all_ tried to please _self_, and live for
_that_, and in so doing found no rest. Christ had come not only to
die for us, but to show how we were to live. The second prayer was
very touching; his allusions to us were so simple, saying, after his
mention of us, “bless their children.” It gave me a lump in my throat,
as also when he prayed for “the dying, the wounded, the widow, and
the orphans.” Every one came back delighted; and how satisfactory it
is to come back from church with such feelings! The servants and the
Highlanders--_all_--were equally delighted.




ARRIVAL AT THE NEW CASTLE AT BALMORAL.


  _September 7, 1855._

At a quarter-past seven o’clock we arrived at dear _Balmoral_. Strange,
very strange, it seemed to me to drive past, indeed _through_, the old
house; the connecting part between it and the offices being broken
through. The new house looks beautiful. The tower and the rooms in
the connecting part are, however, only half finished, and the offices
are still unbuilt: therefore the gentlemen (except the Minister[41])
live in the old house, and so do most of the servants; there is a long
wooden passage which connects the new house with the offices. An old
shoe was thrown after us into the house, for good luck, when we entered
the hall. The house is charming: the rooms delightful; the furniture,
papers, everything perfection.

[41] A Cabinet Minister is always in attendance upon the Queen at
Balmoral.




IMPRESSIONS OF THE NEW CASTLE.


  _September 8, 1855._

The view from the windows of our rooms, and from the library,
drawing-room, &c. below them, of the valley of the _Dee_, with the
mountains in the background,--which one never could see from the old
house, is quite beautiful. We walked about, and alongside the river,
and looked at all that has been done, and considered all that has to
be done; and afterwards we went over to the poor dear old house, and
to our rooms, which it was quite melancholy to see so deserted; and
settled about things being brought over.




NEWS OF THE FALL OF SEVASTOPOL.


  _September 10, 1855._

Mama, and her lady and gentleman, to dinner.

All were in constant expectation of more telegraphic despatches.
At half-past ten o’clock two arrived--one for me, and one for Lord
Granville. I began reading mine, which was from Lord Clarendon, with
details from Marshal Pélissier of the further destruction of the
Russian ships; and Lord Granville said, “I have still better news;”
on which he read, “From General Simpson--_Sevastopol is in the hands
of the Allies_.” God be praised for it! Our delight was great; but
we could hardly believe the good news, and from having so long, so
anxiously expected it, one could not realize the actual fact.

Albert said they should go at once and light the bonfire which had
been prepared when the false report of the fall of the town arrived
last year, and had remained ever since, waiting to be lit. On the 5th
of November, the day of the battle of _Inkermann_, the wind upset it,
strange to say; and now again, most strangely, it only seemed to _wait_
for our return to be lit.

The new house seems to be lucky, indeed; for, from the first moment
of our arrival, we have had good news. In a few minutes, Albert
and all the gentlemen, in every species of attire, sallied forth,
followed by all the servants, and gradually by all the population of
the village--keepers, gillies, workmen--up to the top of the cairn.
We waited, and saw them light the bonfire; accompanied by general
cheering. It blazed forth brilliantly, and we could see the numerous
figures surrounding it--some dancing, all shouting;--Ross[42] playing
his pipes, and Grant and Macdonald firing off guns continually; while
poor old François d’Albertançon[43] lighted a number of squibs below,
the greater part of which would not go off. About three-quarters of
an hour after, Albert came down, and said the scene had been wild
and exciting beyond everything. The people had been drinking healths
in whisky, and were in great ecstasy. The whole house seemed in a
wonderful state of excitement. The boys were with difficulty awakened,
and when at last this was the case, they begged leave to go up to the
top of the cairn.

[42] My Piper since 1854; he had served seventeen years in the 42nd
Highlanders--a very respectable, good man.

[43] An old servant of Sir R. Gordon’s, who had charge of the house,
and was a native of Alsace; he died in 1858.

We remained till a quarter to twelve; and, just as I was undressing,
all the people came down under the windows, the pipes playing, the
people singing, firing off guns, and cheering--first for me, then for
Albert, the Emperor of the French, and the “downfall of _Sevastopol_.”




THE BETROTHAL OF THE PRINCESS ROYAL.


  _September 29, 1855._

Our dear Victoria was this day engaged to Prince Frederick William of
Prussia, who had been on a visit to us since the 14th. He had already
spoken to us, on the 20th, of his wishes; but we were uncertain, on
account of her extreme youth, whether he should speak to her himself,
or wait till he came back again. However, we felt it was better he
should do so; and during our ride up _Craig-na-Ban_ this afternoon, he
picked a piece of white heather, (the emblem of “good luck,”) which
he gave to her; and this enabled him to make an allusion to his hopes
and wishes, as they rode down _Glen Girnoch_, which led to this happy
conclusion.




THE KIRK.


  _October 14, 1855._

To Kirk at twelve o’clock. The Rev. J. Caird, one of the most
celebrated preachers in _Scotland_, performed the service, and
electrified all present by a most admirable and beautiful sermon, which
lasted nearly an hour, but which kept one’s attention riveted. The
text was from the twelfth chapter of Romans, and the eleventh verse:
“_Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord._” He
explained, in the most beautiful and simple manner, what real religion
is; how it ought to pervade every action of our lives; not a thing only
for Sundays, or for our closet; not a thing to drive us from the world;
not “a perpetual moping over ‘good’ books,” but “being and doing good;”
“letting everything be done in a Christian spirit.” It was as fine as
Mr. McLeod’s sermon last year, and sent us home much edified.




FINDING THE OLD CASTLE GONE.


  _August 30, 1856._

On arriving at _Balmoral_ at seven o’clock in the evening, we found the
tower finished as well as the offices, and the poor old house gone! The
effect of the whole is very fine.




GARDENS, &c. ROUND THE NEW CASTLE.


  _August 31, 1856._

We walked along the river and outside the house. The new offices and
the yard are excellent; and the little garden on the west side, with
the eagle fountain which the King of Prussia gave me, and which used to
be in the greenhouse at _Windsor_, is extremely pretty; as are also the
flower-beds under the walls of the side which faces the _Dee_. There
are sculptured arms on the different shields, gilt, which has a very
good effect; and a bas-relief under our windows--not gilt--representing
St. Hubert, with St. Andrew on one side and St. George on the other
side: all done by Mr. Thomas.[44]

[44] He died in March, 1862. The Prince had a high opinion of his
taste.

[Illustration: BALMORAL CASTLE FROM THE NORTH-WEST.]




LOVE FOR BALMORAL.


  _October 13, 1856._

Every year my heart becomes more fixed in this dear Paradise, and
so much more so now, that _all_ has become my dear Albert’s _own_
creation, own work, own building, own laying out, as at _Osborne_; and
his great taste, and the impress of his dear hand, have been stamped
everywhere. He was very busy to-day, settling and arranging many things
for next year.




OPENING OF THE NEW BRIDGE OVER THE LINN OF DEE.


  _September 8, 1857._

At half-past one o’clock we started in “Highland state,”--Albert in a
royal Stuart plaid, and I and the girls in skirts of the same,--with
the ladies (who had only returned at five in the morning from the ball
at _Mar Lodge_) and gentlemen, for the _Linn of Dee_, to open the
new bridge there. The valley looked beautiful. A triumphal arch was
erected, at which Lord Fife and Mr. Brooke received us, and walked near
the carriage, pipers playing--the road lined with Duff men. On the
bridge Lady Fife received us, and we all drank in whisky “prosperity to
the bridge.” The view of the Linn is very fine from it.

All the company and a band were outside a tent on the bank overlooking
the bridge. Here we took some tea, talked with the company, and then
drove back by _Mar Lodge_,--the Fifes preceding us to the end of
the grounds. The same people were there as at the Gatherings,--the
Campdens, Errolls, Airlies, old Lady Duff, and Mr. and Lady L. Brooke,
and others. We were home at half-past five, not without having some
rain by the way.




VISITS TO THE OLD WOMEN.


  _Saturday, September 26, 1857._

Albert went out with Alfred for the day, and I walked out with the two
girls and Lady Churchill, stopped at the shop and made some purchases
for poor people and others; drove a little way, got out and walked up
the hill to _Balnacroft_, Mrs. P. Farquharson’s, and she walked round
with us to some of the cottages to show me where the poor people lived,
and to tell them who I was. Before we went into any we met an old
woman, who, Mrs. Farquharson said, was very poor, eighty-eight years
old, and mother to the former distiller. I gave her a warm petticoat,
and the tears rolled down her old cheeks, and she shook my hands, and
prayed God to bless me: it was very touching.

I went into a small cabin of old Kitty Kear’s, who is eighty-six years
old--quite erect, and who welcomed us with a great air of dignity. She
sat down and spun. I gave her, also, a warm petticoat; she said, “May
the Lord ever attend ye and yours, here and hereafter; and may the Lord
be a guide to ye, and keep ye from all harm.” She was quite surprised
at Vicky’s height; great interest is taken in her. We went on to a
cottage (formerly Jean Gordon’s), to visit old widow Symons, who is
“past fourscore,” with a nice rosy face, but was bent quite double; she
was most friendly, shaking hands with us all, asking which was I, and
repeating many kind blessings: “May the Lord attend ye with mirth and
with joy; may He ever be with ye in this world, and when ye leave it.”
To Vicky, when told she was going to be married, she said, “May the
Lord be a guide to ye in your future, and may every happiness attend
ye.” She was very talkative; and when I said I hoped to see her again,
she expressed an expectation that “she should be called any day,” and
so did Kitty Kear.[45]

[45] She died in Jan. 1865.

We went into three other cottages: to Mrs. Symons’s (daughter-in-law to
the old widow living next door), who had an “unwell boy;” then across
a little burn to another old woman’s; and afterwards peeped into Blair
the fiddler’s. We drove back, and got out again to visit old Mrs. Grant
(Grant’s mother), who is so tidy and clean, and to whom I gave a dress
and handkerchief, and she said, “You’re too kind to me, you’re over
kind to me, ye give me more every year, and I get older every year.”
After talking some time with her, she said, “I am happy to see ye
looking so nice.” She had tears in her eyes, and speaking of Vicky’s
going, said, “I’m very sorry, and I think she is sorry hersel’;” and,
having said she feared she would not see her (the Princess) again,
said: “I am very sorry I said that, but I meant no harm; I always say
just what I think, not what is fut” (fit). Dear old lady; she is such a
pleasant person.

Really the affection of these good people, who are so hearty and so
happy to see you, taking interest in everything, is very touching and
gratifying.




VISIT TO THE PRINCE’S ENCAMPMENT AT FEITHORT.


  _Tuesday, October 6, 1857._


At twelve o’clock I drove off with the two girls to the “Irons,” where
we mounted our ponies, and rode up (Brown and Robertson attending on
foot) through the _Corrie Buie_, along the pretty new path through
_Feithluie_ to the foot of the very steep ascent to _Feithort_, where
we got off and walked up--and suddenly, when nearly at the top of the
path, came upon Albert’s little encampment, which was just at the edge
of the winding path.

[Illustration]

Albert was still absent, having gone out at six o’clock, but Löhlein
and some of the gillies were there. The little house, with shelves
for keeping a few boxes (no seat), and a little stove, was not at
all uncomfortable; but the wind was dreadfully high, and blew in. We
waited for about a quarter of an hour, and then Albert arrived; he had
been out since six o’clock, shot three stags, but only got one bad
one. The fine one, yesterday evening, had cost him much trouble. The
night had been bitterly cold and windy; but he had slept. We lunched
in the little “housie” at the open door. There was a second hut for
the people. Luncheon over, we walked down and across the greater part
of the _Balloch Buie_, mounting our ponies wherever it was wet. We saw
deer as we came lower down, and all of a sudden a stag was seen quite
close by the path; Albert shot him, and he fell at once. He had very
fine horns, a royal on one side.

Then they beat up to the _Craig Daign_. Poor Albert was much tired,
and had to walk all the time, as he had no pony; we rode part of the
way. Then the lower part of the road was driven. As we were sitting by
a tree close to Albert a stag came out, and Albert killed him at one
shot. A fine day, though at times it has been very cold. We got home at
half-past six.




A FALL OF SNOW.


  _September 18, 1858._

Alas! the last day! When we got up the weather seemed very hopeless.
Everything was white with snow, which lay, at least, an inch on the
ground, and it continued snowing heavily, as it had done since five
this morning. I wished we might be snowed up, and unable to move. How
happy I should have been could it have been so! It continued snowing
till half-past ten or eleven, and then it began to clear up. The hills
appeared quite white; the sun came out, and it became splendidly
bright. Albert was going to have the woods driven--which are not
properly called _Carrop Woods_, but _Garmaddie Woods_--but had first to
ride round _Craig Gowan_ with Dr. Robertson to see _Robrech_, the place
where Duncan’s new house is to be built, which is above the village,
opposite _Craig Luraghain_, with a most splendid view; and at Grant’s
house I was to meet him.

At one o’clock I left with Alice and Lenchen[46] for Grant’s, where we
met Albert, who joined us in the carriage: the day was truly splendid.
We got out at the river, and were going down to _Nelly’s Bush_, when
a stag was heard roaring very near; so we had to stop, and, with our
plaids and cloaks to sit upon, really avoided getting very wet. We
waited till Albert was near to the stag, saw it move, heard Albert
fire twice, and the stag turn, stop, and then disappear. Albert fired
again, but the stag had crossed the _Dee_; so we turned up on to the
road, and went into the dear old _Corrie Buie_; Albert turning off to
see if there were any deer near, while we waited for him. We then came
to a place which is always wet, but which was particularly bad after
the late rain and snow. There was no pony for me to get on; and as I
wished not to get my feet wet by walking through the long grass, Albert
proposed I should be carried over in a plaid; and Lenchen was first
carried over; but it was held too low, and her feet dangled; so Albert
suggested the plaid should be put round the men’s shoulders, and that I
should sit upon it; Brown and Duncan, the two strongest and handiest,
were the two who undertook it, and I sat safely enough with an arm
on each man’s shoulder, and was carried successfully over. All the
Highlanders are so amusing, and really pleasant and instructive to talk
to--women as well as men--and the latter so gentlemanlike.[47] Albert’s
shots were heard close by whilst we were at luncheon; and there was
a general rush of all the people. Albert joined us soon after; he had
had a great deal of trouble in stalking his stag, which he had been
after several days, but had killed him at one shot. He was brought
for us to see: a very light-coloured one, with fine straight horns,
of extraordinary thickness. After this we walked on for a beat quite
round _Carrop_; and the view was glorious! A little shower of snow had
fallen, but was succeeded by brilliant sunshine. The hills covered with
snow, the golden birch-trees on the lower brown hills, and the bright
afternoon sky, were indescribably beautiful.

[46] Princess Helena.

[47] A similar view to that given in the text is admirably expressed
by the Reverend Frederick W. Robertson in his _Lectures on Literary
and Social Topics_, and his description of a Tyrolese is even more
applicable to a Highlander.

 “My companion was a Tyrolese chamois-hunter, a man who, in point of
 social position, might rank with an English labourer. I fear there
 would be a difficulty in England in making such a companionship
 pleasurable and easy to both parties; there would be a painful
 obsequiousness, or else an insolent familiarity on the one side,
 constraint on the other. In this case there was nothing of that sort.
 We walked together, and ate together. He had all the independence of a
 man, but he knew the courtesy which was due to a stranger; and when we
 parted for the night, he took his leave with a politeness and dignity
 which would have done no discredit to the most finished gentleman. The
 reason, as it seemed to me, was that his character had been moulded
 by the sublimities of the forms of the outward nature amidst which
 he lived. It was impossible to see the clouds wreathing themselves
 in that strange wild way of theirs round the mountain crests, till
 the hills seemed to become awful things, instinct with life--it
 was impossible to walk, as we did sometimes, an hour or two before
 sunrise, and see the morning’s beams gilding with their pure light the
 grand old peaks on the opposite side of the valley, while we ourselves
 were still in deepest shade, and look on that man, his very exterior
 in harmony with all around him, and his calm eye resting on all that
 wondrous spectacle, without a feeling that these things had had their
 part in making him what he was, and that you were in a country in
 which men were bound to be polished, bound to be more refined, almost
 bound to be better men than elsewhere.”


The following lines[48] admirably pourtray what I then saw:—

                            “The gorgeous bright October,
  Then when brackens are changed, and heather blooms are faded,
  And amid russet of heather and fern, green trees are bonnie;
  Alders are green, and oaks; the rowan scarlet and yellow;
  One great glory of broad gold pieces appears the aspen,
  And the jewels of gold that were hung in the hair of the birch-tree,
  Pendulous, here and there, her coronet, necklace, and earrings,
  Cover her now, o’er and o’er; she is weary and scatters them from her.”

Oh! how I gazed and gazed on God’s glorious works with a sad heart,
from its being for the last time, and tried to carry the scene away,
well implanted and fixed in my mind, for this effect with the snow we
shall not often see again. We saw it like this in 1852; but we have not
seen it so since, though we have often had snow-storms and showers with
a little snow lying on the highest hills.

[48] _The Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich._ By Arthur Hugh Clough.




ASCENT OF MORVEN.


  _September 14, 1859._

I felt very low-spirited at my dearest Albert having to leave at one
o’clock for _Aberdeen_, to preside at the meeting of the British
Association.

I with Alice, the two ladies, Lord Charles Fitzroy, and Brown, left
shortly before for _Morven_. We took post-horses at the foot of
_Gairn_, and drove by the right side of the glen, along a new good
road, avoiding the ford, and by half-past two we were at the foot of
_Morven_, not far from the shooting-lodge there. Here we mounted our
ponies, and our caravan started with the gillies--Jemmie Coutts, an
old acquaintance, now keeper of the lodge, leading the way. About
half-way, at a burn-side, we stopped, seated ourselves on plaids on
the fine springy turf, and took luncheon; then walked about, sketched,
mounted our ponies, and rode up to the top, which was rather steep and
soft,—“foggy,” as Brown called it, which is the Highland expression
for mossy,--my little pony, being so fat, panted dreadfully. _Morven_
is 2,700 feet high, and the view from it more magnificent than can
be described, so large and yet so near everything seemed, and such
seas of mountains with blue lights, and the colour so wonderfully
beautiful. We looked down upon the Duke of Richmond’s property, and
saw the mountain called the _Buck of Cabrach_, and still further on
the _Slate Hills_; to the east, _Aberdeen_ and the blue sea, and we
could even see the ships with the naked eye: the table-land between
_Tarland_ and _Ballater_; and stretching out below, due south, _Mount
Keen_. To the south-west, _Loch-na-Gar_; to the west, _Ben A’an_ and
_Ben-na-Bhourd_,—“the land of _Gairn_,” as they call it, and _Muich_;
and _Deeside_ in the foreground. It was enchanting! We walked down to
where we had lunched, and rode to the bottom. Here we found a fire,
also tea with cakes, &c., which had been very kindly prepared for us
by a lady and gentleman, the daughter and son of Sir J. G. Ratcliff,
living in the shooting-lodge. We drank the tea, and left in the
carriage at half-past six o’clock, reaching _Balmoral_ at half-past
seven. So sad not to find my darling Husband at home.




THE PRINCE’S RETURN FROM ABERDEEN.


  _September 15, 1859._

I heard by telegram last night that Albert’s reception was admirable,
and that all was going off as well as possible. Thank God. I ascended
_Loch-na-Gar_ with Alice, Helena, Bertie, Lady Churchill, Colonel
Bruce, and our usual attendants, and returned after six o’clock. At
ten minutes past seven arrived my beloved Albert. All had gone off
most admirably; he had seen many learned people; all were delighted
with his speech; the reception most gratifying. _Banchory House_ (Mr.
Thomson’s) where he lodged (four miles from _Aberdeen_) was, he said,
very comfortable.




FÊTE TO THE MEMBERS OF THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION.


  _September 22, 1859._

The morning dawned brightly. Suddenly a very high wind arose which
alarmed us, but yet it looked bright, and we hoped the wind would keep
off the rain; but after breakfast, while watching the preparations,
showers began, and from half-past eleven a fearful down-pour, with that
white curtain-like appearance which is so alarming; and this lasted
till half-past twelve. I was in despair; but at length it began to
clear, just as the neighbours with their families, and some of the
farmers opposite (the Herrons, Duncans, Brown’s father and brothers)
arrived, and then came the huge omnibuses and carriages laden with
“philosophers.” At two o’clock we were all ready. Albert and the boys
were in their kilts, and I and the girls in royal Stuart skirts and
shawls over black velvet bodies.

It was a beautiful sight in spite of the frequent slight showers
which at first tormented us, and the very high cold wind. There were
gleams of sunshine, which, with the Highlanders in their brilliant and
picturesque dresses, the wild notes of the pipes, the band, and the
beautiful background of mountains rendered the scene wild and striking
in the extreme. The Farquharson’s men headed by Colonel Farquharson,
the Duff’s by Lord Fife, and the Forbes’s men by Sir Charles Forbes,
had all marched on the ground before we came out, and were drawn up
just opposite to us, and the spectators (the people of the country)
behind them. We stood on the terrace, the company near us, and the
“savants,” also, on either side of us, and along the slopes, on the
grounds. The games began about three o’clock:

  1.   “Throwing the Hammer.”
  2.   “Tossing the Caber.”
  3.   “Putting the Stone.”

We gave prizes to the three best in each of the games. We walked along
the terrace to the large marquee, talking to the people, to where the
men were “putting the stone.” After this returned to the upper terrace,
to see the race, a pretty wild sight; but the men looked very cold,
with nothing but their shirts and kilts on; they ran beautifully. They
wrapped plaids round themselves, and then came to receive the prizes
from me. Last of all came the dancing--reels and “Ghillie Callum.” The
latter the judges could not make up their minds about; it was danced
over and over again; and at last they left out the best dancer of all!
They said he danced “too well!” The dancing over, we left amid the loud
cheers of the people. It was then about half-past five. We watched from
the window the Highlanders marching away, the different people walking
off, and four weighty omnibuses filling with the scientific men. We
saw, and talked to, Professor Owen, Sir David Brewster, Sir John
Bowring, Mr. J. Roscoe, and Sir John Ross.[49]

[49] During the Fête, we heard from Sir R. Murchison and others that
news had been received this morning of the finding of poor Sir John
Franklin’s remains--or, rather, of the things belonging to him and his
party.

When almost all were gone, we took a short walk to warm ourselves.
Much pleased at everything having gone off well. The Duke of Richmond,
Sir R. Murchison, General Sabine, Mr. Thomson of _Banchory House_, and
Professor Phillipps, Secretary of the Association, all of whom slept
here, were additions to the dinner-party. I sat between our cousin
Philip (Count of Flanders) and the Duke of Richmond. All the gentlemen
spoke in very high terms of my beloved Albert’s admirable speech, the
good it had done, and the general satisfaction it had caused.

We could see the fire of the Forbes’s encampment on the opposite side.




EXPEDITION TO INCHRORY.


  _September 30, 1859._

At twenty minutes past eleven we started with Helena and Louise in
the sociable, Grant on the box, for _Loch Bulig_, passing the farms
of _Blairglass_ and of _Dall Dounie_, and the shooting-lodge of
_Corndavon_, ten miles distant. Here we found our ponies (mine being
“Victoria”), and rode along the edge of the lake, up a beautiful glen
by a path winding through the valley, which appeared frequently closed.
We then rode along a small river or burn, of which no one knew the
name; none of our party having ever been there before. The hills were
sprinkled with birch-trees, and there was grass below in the valley;
we saw deer. As we approached _Inchrory_ (a shooting-lodge of Lord H.
Bentinck’s) the scenery became finer and finer, reminding us of _Glen
Tilt_, and was most beautiful at _Inchrory_, with the fine broad water
of the _Avon_ flowing down from the mountains.

We inquired of the people at _Inchrory_ whether there was any way of
getting round over the hills by _Gairn Shiel_, and they said there
was; but that the distance was about 11 miles. Neither Grant nor Brown
had been that way. However we accepted it at once, and I was delighted
to go on _à l’improviste_, travelling about in these enchanting hills
in this solitude, with only our good Highlanders with us, who never
make difficulties, but are cheerful, and happy, and merry, and ready
to walk, and run, and do anything. So on we went, turning up above
_Inchrory_ by a winding road between hillocks and commanding a glorious
view towards _Laganaul_. Here, on a little grassy knoll, we lunched in
a splendid position.

After our luncheon, and walking a little way, we remounted, and
proceeded by the so-called “Brown Cow” (on the other side of which
we had driven), over a moor, meeting a shepherd, out of whom Grant
could get little information. Soon we came to corn-fields in the
valley; passed _Favanché_ and _Inchmore_, and got on to a good road,
on which Brown and Grant “travelled” at a _wonderful_ pace, upwards
of five miles an hour without stopping; and the former with that
vigorous, light, elastic tread which is quite astonishing. We passed
_Dal-na-Damph Shiel_ (a shooting-lodge of Sir Charles Forbes); and went
along the old “Military Road,” leaving _Cockbridge_, a small straggling
“toun,” which is on the road to _Inverness_, to our left, and the old
_Castle of Corgarf_ to our right. We looked over into _Donside_. The
road was soon left for a mountain one in the hills, above one of the
tributary streams of the _Don_, and was wild and desolate; we passed
_Dal Choupar_ and _Dal Vown_, and, as we ascended, we saw _Tornahoish_,
at a distance to the left. After going along this hill-track, over some
poor and tottering bridges, we joined the road by which we had driven
to _Tornahoish_. It was fast getting dark, but was very fine. I and
the girls got off and walked sharply some little distance. Albert had
walked further on, Grant riding his pony meantime. P. Robertson and
Kennedy, besides those I have named, carried the basket alternately.

We remounted our ponies, and Brown led mine on at an amazing pace
up the _Glaschoil Hill_, and we finally reached _Gairn Shiel_ after
seven, quite in the dark. There, at the small public-house, we found
the carriage, and drove off as soon as we could; the ponies were to
be given half a feed, and then to come on. We had to drive home very
slowly, as the road is not good, and very steep in parts.

A mild night. Home by ten minutes past eight, enchanted with our day.
How I wish we could travel about in this way, and see _all_ the wild
spots in the _Highlands_! We had gone 35 miles, having ridden 19 and a
half! The little girls were in great glee the whole time.




ASCENT OF BEN MUICH DHUI.


  _Friday, October 7, 1859._

Breakfast at half-past eight. At ten minutes to nine we started, in the
sociable, with Bertie and Alice and our usual attendants. Drove along
the opposite side of the river. The day very mild and promising to be
fine, though a little heavy over the hills, which we anxiously watched.
At _Castleton_ we took four post-horses, and drove to the _Shiel of
the Derry_, that beautiful spot where we were last year--which Albert
had never seen--and arrived there just before eleven. Our ponies were
there with Kennedy, Robertson, and Jemmie Smith. One pony carried the
luncheon-baskets. After all the cloaks, &c. had been placed on the
ponies, or carried by the men, we mounted and began our “journey.”
I was on “Victoria,” Alice on “Dobbins.” George McHardy, an elderly
man who knew the country (and acts as a guide, carrying luggage for
people across the hills “on beasts” which he keeps for that purpose),
led the way. We rode (my pony being led by Brown most of the time both
going up and down) at least four miles up _Glen Derry_, which is very
fine, with the remnants of a splendid forest, _Cairn Derry_ being to
the right, and the _Derry Water_ running below. The track was very bad
and stony, and broken up by cattle coming down for the “Tryst.” At the
end of the glen we crossed a ford, passed some softish ground, and
turned up to the left by a very rough, steep, but yet gradual ascent to
_Corrie Etchan_, which is in a very wild rugged spot, with magnificent
precipices, a high mountain to the right called _Ben Main_, while to
the left was _Cairngorm of Derry_. When we reached the top of this very
steep ascent (we had been rising, though almost imperceptibly, from the
_Derry Shiel_,) we came upon a loch of the same name, which reminded us
of _Loch-na-Gar_ and of _Loch-na-Nian_. You look from here on to other
wild hills and corries--on _Ben A’an_, &c. We ascended very gradually,
but became so enveloped in mist that we could see nothing--hardly those
just before us! Albert had walked a good deal; and it was very cold.
The mist got worse; and as we rode along the stony, but almost flat
ridge of _Ben Muich Dhui_, we hardly knew whether we were on level
ground or the top of the mountain. However, I and Alice rode to the
very top, which we reached a few minutes past two; and here, at a cairn
of stones, we lunched, in a piercing cold wind.

Just as we sat down, a gust of wind came and dispersed the mist, which
had a most wonderful effect, like a dissolving view--and exhibited the
grandest, wildest scenery imaginable! We sat on a ridge of the cairn to
take our luncheon,--our good people being grouped with the ponies near
us. Luncheon over, Albert ran off with Alice to the ridge to look at
the splendid view, and sent for me to follow. I did so; but not without
Grant’s help, for there were quantities of large loose stones heaped up
together to walk upon. The wind was fearfully high, but the view was
well worth seeing. I cannot describe all, but we saw where the _Dee_
rises between the mountains called the _Well of Dee_—_Ben-y-Ghlo_--and
the adjacent mountains, _Ben Vrackie_--then _Ben-na-Bhourd_--_Ben
A’an_, &c.--and such magnificent wild rocks, precipices, and corries.
It had a sublime and solemn effect; so wild, so solitary--no one but
ourselves and our little party there.

Albert went on further with the children, but I returned with Grant to
my seat on the cairn, as I could not scramble about well. Soon after,
we all began walking and looking for “cairngorms,” and found some
small ones. The mist had entirely cleared away below, so that we saw
all the beautiful views. _Ben Muich Dhui_ is 4,297 feet high, one of
the highest mountains in _Scotland_. I and Alice rode part of the way,
walking wherever it was very steep. Albert and Bertie walked the whole
time. I had a little whisky and water, as the people declared pure
water would be too chilling. We then rode on without getting off again,
Albert talking so gaily with Grant. Upon which Brown observed to me in
simple Highland phrase, “It’s very pleasant to walk with a person who
is always ’content.’” Yesterday, in speaking of dearest Albert’s sport,
when I observed he never was cross after bad luck, Brown said, “Every
one on the estate says there never was so kind a master; I am sure our
only wish is to give satisfaction.” I said, they certainly did.[50]

[50] We were always in the habit of conversing with the
Highlanders--with whom one comes so much in contact in the Highlands.
The Prince highly appreciated the good-breeding, simplicity, and
intelligence, which make it so pleasant and even instructive to talk to
them.

By a quarter-past six o’clock we got down to the _Shiel of the Derry_,
where we found some tea, which we took in the “shiel,”[51] and started
again by moonlight at about half-past six. We reached _Castleton_ at
half-past seven--and after this it became cloudy. At a quarter-past
eight precisely we were at _Balmoral_, much delighted and not at all
tired; everything had been so well arranged, and so quietly, without
any fuss. _Never_ shall I forget this day, or the impression this very
grand scene made upon me; truly sublime and impressive; such solitude.

[51] “Shiel” means a small shooting-lodge.




FIRST GREAT EXPEDITION:--TO GLEN FISHIE AND GRANTOWN.


  _Hotel Grantown, Tuesday, September 4, 1860._

Arrived this evening after a most interesting tour; I will recount
the events of the day. Breakfasted at _Balmoral_ in our own room at
half-past seven o’clock, and started at eight or a little past, with
Lady Churchill and General Grey, in the sociable (Grant and Brown on
the box as usual), for _Castleton_, where we changed horses. We went
on five miles beyond the _Linn of Dee_, to the _Shepherd’s Shiel of
Geldie_, or, properly speaking, _Giuly_, where we found our ponies and
a guide, Charlie Stewart. We mounted at once, and rode up along the
_Geldie_, which we had to ford frequently to avoid the bogs, and rode
on for two hours up _Glen Geldie_, over a moor which was so soft and
boggy in places, that we had to get off several times. The hills were
wild, but not very high, bare of trees, and even of heather to a great
extent, and not picturesque till we approached the _Fishie_, and turned
to the right up to the glen which we could see in the distance. The
_Fishie_ and _Geldie_ rise almost on a level, with very little distance
between them. The _Fishie_ is a fine rapid stream, full of stones.
As you approach the glen, which is very narrow, the scenery becomes
very fine--particularly after fording the _Etchart_, a very deep ford.
Grant, on his pony, led me through: our men on foot took off their
shoes and stockings to get across. From this point the narrow path
winds along the base of the hills of _Craig-na-Go’ar_--the rocks of the
“Goat Craig;”—_Craig-na-Caillach_; and _Stron-na-Barin_--the nose of
the queen.” The rapid river is overhung by rocks, with trees, birch and
fir; the hills, as you advance, rise very steeply on both sides, with
rich rocks and corries, and occasional streamlets falling from very
high--while the path winds along, rising gradually higher and higher.
It is quite magnificent!

We stopped when we came to a level spot amongst the trees. The native
firs are particularly fine; and the whole is grand in the extreme. We
lunched here--a charming spot--at two o’clock; and then pursued our
journey. We walked on a little way to where the valley and glen widen
out, and where there is what they call here a green “hard.” We got on
our ponies again and crossed the _Fishie_ (a stream we forded many
times in the course of the day) to a place where the finest fir-trees
are, amidst some of the most beautiful scenery possible.

Then we came upon a most lovely spot--the scene of all Landseer’s
glory--and where there is a little encampment of wooden and turf huts,
built by the late Duchess of Bedford; now no longer belonging to the
family, and, alas! all falling into decay--among splendid fir-trees,
the mountains rising abruptly from the sides of the valley. We were
quite enchanted with the beauty of the view. This place is about seven
miles from the mouth of the _Fishie_. Emerging from the wood we came
upon a good road, with low hills, beautifully heather-coloured, to
the left; those to the right, high and wooded, with noble corries and
waterfalls.

We met Lord and Lady Alexander Russell at a small farm-house, just
as we rode out of the wood, and had some talk with them. They feel
deeply the ruin of the place where they formerly lived, as it no longer
belongs to them. We rode on for a good long distance, 12 miles, till
we came to the ferry of the _Spey_. Deer were being driven in the
woods, and we heard several shots. We saw fine ranges of hills on the
_Speyside_, or _Strathspey_, and opening to our left, those near _Loch
Laggan_. We came to a wood of larch; from that, upon cultivated land,
with _Kinrara_ towards our right, where the monument to the late Duke
of Gordon is conspicuously seen on a hill, which was perfectly crimson
with heather.

Before entering the larch wood, Lord Alexander Russell caught us up
again in a little pony carriage, having to go the same way, and he
was so good as to explain everything to us. He showed us “The Duke of
Argyll’s Stone”--a cairn on the top of a hill to our right, celebrated,
as seems most probable, from the Marquis of Argyll having halted there
with his army. We came to another larch wood, when I and Lady Churchill
got off our ponies, as we were very stiff from riding so long; and at
the end of this wood we came upon _Loch Inch_, which is lovely, and
of which I should have liked exceedingly to have taken a sketch, but
we were pressed for time and hurried. The light was lovely; and some
cattle were crossing a narrow strip of grass across the end of the loch
nearest to us, which really made a charming picture. It is not a wild
lake, quite the contrary; no high rocks, but woods and blue hills as a
background. About a mile from this was the ferry. There we parted from
our ponies, only Grant and Brown coming on with us. Walker, the police
inspector, met us, but did not keep with us. He had been sent to order
everything in a quiet way, without letting people suspect who we were:
in this he entirely succeeded. The ferry was a very rude affair; it
was like a boat or coble, but we could only stand on it, and it was
moved at one end by two long oars, plied by the ferryman and Brown, and
at the other end by a long sort of beam, which Grant took in hand. A
few seconds brought us over to the road, where there were two shabby
vehicles, one a kind of barouche, into which Albert and I got, Lady
Churchill and General Grey into the other--a break; each with a pair
of small and rather miserable horses, driven by a man from the box.
Grant was on our carriage, and Brown on the other. We had gone so far
40 miles, at least 20 on horseback. We had decided to call ourselves
_Lord and Lady Churchill and party_, Lady Churchill passing as _Miss
Spencer_, and General Grey as _Dr. Grey_! Brown once forgot this, and
called me “Your Majesty” as I was getting into the carriage; and Grant
on the box once called Albert “Your Royal Highness;” which set us off
laughing, but no one observed it.

[Illustration]

We had a long three hours’ drive; it was six o’clock when we got
into the carriage. We were soon out of the wood, and came upon the
_Badenoch_ road--passing close by _Kinrara_, but unfortunately not
through it, which we ought to have done. It was very beautiful--fine
wooded hills--the high _Cairngorm_ range, and _Ben Muich Dhui_,
unfortunately much obscured by the mist on the top--and the broad
_Spey_ flowing in the valley, with cultivated fields and fine trees
below. Most striking, however, on our whole long journey was the utter,
and to me very refreshing, solitude. Hardly a habitation! and hardly
meeting a soul! It gradually grew dark. We stopped at a small half-way
house for the horses to take some water; and the few people about
stared vacantly at the two simple vehicles.

The mountains gradually disappeared,--the evening was mild, with a
few drops of rain. On and on we went, till at length we saw lights,
and drove through a long and straggling “toun,” and turned down a
small court to the door of the inn. Here we got out quickly--Lady
Churchill and General Grey not waiting for us. We went up a small
staircase, and were shown to our bed-room at the top of it--very small,
but clean--with a large four-post bed which nearly filled the whole
room. Opposite was the drawing and dining-room in one--very tidy and
well-sized. Then came the room where Albert dressed, which was very
small. The two maids (Jane Shackle[52] was with me) had driven over by
another road in the waggonette, Stewart driving them. Made ourselves
“clean and tidy,” and then sat down to our dinner. Grant and Brown were
to have waited on us, but were “bashful” and did not. A ringletted
woman did everything; and, when dinner was over, removed the cloth
and placed the bottle of wine (our own which we had brought) on the
table with the glasses, which was the old English fashion. The dinner
was very fair, and all very clean:--soup, “hodge-podge,” mutton-broth
with vegetables, which I did not much relish, fowl with white sauce,
good roast lamb, very good potatoes, besides one or two other dishes,
which I did not taste, ending with a good tart of cranberries. After
dinner, I tried to write part of this account (but the talking round
me confused me), while Albert played at “patience.” Then went away, to
begin undressing, and it was about half-past eleven when we got to bed.

[52] One of my wardrobe-maids, and daughter to the Page mentioned
earlier.


  _Wednesday, September 5._

A misty, rainy morning. Had not slept very soundly. We got up rather
early, and sat working and reading in the drawing-room till the
breakfast was ready, for which we had to wait some little time. Good
tea and bread and butter, and some excellent porridge. Jane Shackle
(who was very useful and attentive) said that they had all supped
together, namely, the two maids, and Grant, Brown, Stewart, and Walker
(who was still there), and were very merry in the “commercial room.”
The people were very amusing about us. The woman came in while they
were at their dinner, and said to Grant, “Dr. Grey wants you,” which
nearly upset the gravity of all the others: then they told Jane, “Your
lady gives no trouble;” and Grant in the morning called up to Jane,
“Does his lordship want me?” One could look on the street, which is
a very long wide one, with detached houses, from our window. It was
perfectly quiet, no one stirring, except here and there a man driving a
cart, or a boy going along on his errand. General Grey bought himself a
watch in a shop for 2_l._!

At length, at about ten minutes to ten o’clock, we started in the
same carriages and the same way as yesterday, and drove up to _Castle
Grant_, Lord Seafield’s place,--a fine (not Highland-looking) park,
with a very plain-looking house, like a factory, about two miles from
the town. It was drizzling almost the whole time. We did not get
out, but drove back, having to pass through _Grantown_ again; where
evidently “the murder was out,” for all the people were in the street,
and the landlady waved her pocket-handkerchief, and the ringletted maid
(who had curl-papers in the morning) waved a flag from the window. Our
coachman evidently did not observe or guess anything. As we drove out
of the town, turning to our right through a wood, we met many people
coming into the town, which the coachman said was for a funeral.
We passed over the _Spey_, by the _Bridge of Spey_. It continued
provokingly rainy, the mist hanging very low on the hills, which,
however, did not seem to be very high, but were pink with heather. We
stopped to have the cover of leather put over our carriage, which is
the fashion of all the flys here. It keeps out the rain, however, very
well.

The first striking feature in this country is the _Pass of Dal Dhu_,
above which the road winds,--a steep corrie, with green hills. We
stopped at a small inn, with only one other house near it; and here
the poor wretchedly-jaded horses got a little water, and waited for
about ten minutes. Further on we came to a very steep hill, also to
a sort of pass, called _Glen Bruin_, with green hills, evidently of
slate formation. Here we got out, and walked down the hill, and over
the _Bridge of Bruin_, and partly up another hill, the road winding
amazingly after this--up and down hill. We then came in sight of the
_Avon_, winding below the hills; and again got out at a little wood,
before the _Bridge of Avon_; the river is fine and clear here. We
re-entered our carriages (Lady Churchill and I for this short time
together), and drove about a mile further up a hill to _Tomintoul_; our
poor horses being hardly able to drag themselves any longer, the man
whipping them and whistling to them to go on, which they could not,
and I thought every instant that they would stop in the village. We
took four hours to drive these 14 miles; for it was two o’clock when
we were outside the town, and got out to mount our ponies. _Tomintoul_
is the most tumble-down, poor-looking place I ever saw--a long street
with three inns, miserable dirty-looking houses and people, and a sad
look of wretchedness about it. Grant told me that it was the dirtiest,
poorest village in the whole of the _Highlands_.

We mounted our ponies a short way out of the town, but only rode for a
few minutes as it was past two o’clock. We came upon a beautiful view,
looking down upon the _Avon_ and up a fine glen. There we rested and
took luncheon. While Brown was unpacking and arranging our things, I
spoke to him and to Grant, who was helping, about not having waited on
us, as they ought to have done, at dinner last night and at breakfast,
as we had wished; and Brown answered, he was afraid he should not do it
rightly; I replied we did not wish to have a stranger in the room, and
they must do so another time.

Luncheon (provisions for which we had taken with us from home
yesterday) finished, we started again, walked a little way, till we
were overtaken by the men and ponies, and then rode along _Avonside_,
the road winding at the bottom of the glen, which is in part tolerably
wide; but narrows as it turns, and winds round towards _Inchrory_,
where it is called _Glen Avon_. The hills, sloping down to the river
side, are beautifully green. It was very muggy--quite oppressive,
and the greater part of the road deep and sloppy, till we came upon
the granite formation again. In order to get on, as it was late, and
we had eight miles to ride, our men,--at least Brown and two of the
others,--walked before us at a fearful pace, so that we had to trot
to keep up at all. Grant rode frequently on the deer pony; the others
seemed, however, a good deal tired with the two long days’ journey,
and were glad to get on Albert’s or the General’s pony to give
themselves a lift; but their willingness, readiness, cheerfulness,
indefatigableness, are very admirable, and make them most delightful
servants. As for Grant and Brown they are perfect--discreet, careful,
intelligent, attentive, ever ready to do what is wanted; and the
latter, particularly, is handy and willing to do everything and
anything, and to overcome every difficulty, which makes him one of my
best servants anywhere.

We passed by _Inchrory_--seeing, as we approached, two eagles towering
splendidly above, and alighting on the top of the hills. From
_Inchrory_, we rode to _Loch Bulig_, which was beautifully lit up by
the setting sun. From _Tomintoul_ we escaped all real rain, having
only a slight sprinkling every now and then. At _Loch Bulig_ we found
our carriage and four ponies, and drove back just as we left yesterday
morning, reaching _Balmoral_ safely at half-past seven.

What a delightful, successful expedition! Dear Lady Churchill was, as
usual, thoroughly amiable, cheerful, and ready to do everything. Both
she and the General seemed entirely to enjoy it, and enter into it,
and so I am sure did our people. To my dear Albert do we owe it, for
he always thought it would be delightful, having gone on many similar
expeditions in former days himself. He enjoyed it very much. We heard
since that the secret came out through a man recognizing Albert in the
street yesterday morning; then the crown on the dog-cart made them
think that it was some one from _Balmoral_, though they never suspected
that it could be ourselves! “The lady must be terrible rich,” the
woman observed, as I had so many gold rings on my fingers!--I told
Lady Churchill she had on many more than I had. When they heard who it
was, they were ready to drop with astonishment and fright. I fear I
have but poorly recounted this very amusing and never to be forgotten
expedition, which will always be remembered with delight.

I must pay a tribute to our ponies. Dear “Fyvie” is perfection, and
Albert’s equally excellent.




SECOND GREAT EXPEDITION:--TO INVERMARK AND FETTERCAIRN.


  _Friday, September 20, 1861._

Looked anxiously at the weather at seven o’clock--there had been
a little rain, there was still mist on the hills, and it looked
doubtful. However, Albert said it would be best to keep to the original
arrangements, and so we got up early, and by eight the sun shone, and
the mist began to lift everywhere. We breakfasted at half-past eight,
and at half-past nine we started in two sociables--Alice and Louis[53]
with us in the first, and Grant on the box; Lady Churchill and General
Grey in the second, and Brown on the box. We drove to the _Bridge of
Muich_, where we found our six ponies, and five gillies (J. Smith, J.
Morgan, Kennedy, C. Stewart, and S. Campbell). We rode up the peat-road
over the hill of _Polach_ and down it again for about four miles, and
then came to a very soft bit; but still with careful management we
avoided getting into any of the bogs, and I remained on my pony all the
time. Albert and Louis had to get off and walk for about two hundred
yards. The hills of _Loch-na-Gar_ were very hazy, but _Mount Keen_ was
in great beauty before us, and as we came down to the _Glen of Corrie
Vruach_, and looked down _Glen Tanar_, the scenery was grand and wild.
_Mount Keen_ is a curious conical-shaped hill, with a deep corrie in
it. It is nearly 3,200 feet high, and we had a very steep rough ascent
over the shoulder, after crossing the _Tanar Water_. It was six and a
half miles from the _Bridge of Muich_ to _Corrie Vruach_.

[53] Prince Louis of Hesse.

When we were on the level ground again, where it was hard and dry,
we all got off and walked on over the shoulder of the hill. We had
not gone far when we descried Lord Dalhousie (whom General Grey had
in confidence informed of our coming) on a pony. He welcomed us on
the border of his “March,” got off his pony and walked with us. After
walking some little time Alice and I remounted our ponies, (Albert
riding some part of the time,) and turned to the left, when we came in
sight of a new country, and looked down a very fine glen--_Glen Mark_.
We descended by a very steep but winding path, called _The Ladder_,
very grand and wild: the water running through it is called _The Ladder
Burn_. It is very fine indeed, and very striking. There is a small
forester’s lodge at the very foot of it. The pass is quite a narrow
one; you wind along a very steep and rough path, but still it was quite
easy to ride on it, as it zigzags along. We crossed the burn at the
bottom, where a picturesque group of “shearers” were seated, chiefly
women, the older ones smoking. They were returning from the south to
the north, whence they came. We rode up to the little cottage; and in a
little room of a regular Highland cabin, with its usual “press bed,” we
had luncheon. This place is called _Invermark_, and is four and a half
miles from _Corrie Vruach_. After luncheon I sketched the fine view.
The steep hill we came down immediately opposite the keeper’s lodge is
called _Craig Boestock_, and a very fine isolated craggy hill which
rises to the left--over-topping a small and wild glen--is called the
_Hill of Doun_.

We mounted our ponies a little after three, and rode down _Glen
Mark_, stopping to drink some water out of a very pure well, called
_The White Well_; and crossing the _Mark_ several times. As we
approached the _Manse of Loch Lee_, the glen widened, and the old
_Castle of Invermark_ came out extremely well; and, surrounded by
woods and corn-fields, in which the people were “shearing,” looked
most picturesque. We turned to the right, and rode up to the old
ruined castle, which is half covered with ivy. We then rode up to Lord
Dalhousie’s shooting-lodge, where we dismounted. It is a new and very
pretty house, built of granite, in a very fine position overlooking
the glen, with wild hills at the back. Miss Maule (now Lady C. Maule)
was there. We passed through the drawing-room, and went on a few yards
to the end of a walk whence you see _Loch Lee_, a wild, but not large,
lake closed in by mountains--with a farm-house and a few cottages at
its edge. The hall and dining-room are very prettily fitted up with
trophies of sport, and the walls panelled with light wood. We had a few
of the very short showers which hung about the hills. We then got into
our carriages. The carriage we were in was a sort of double dog-cart
which could carry eight--but was very narrow inside. We drove along
the glen--down by the _Northesk_ (the _Ey_ and _Mark_ meeting become
the _Northesk_), passing to the right another very pretty glen--_Glen
Effach_, much wooded, and the whole landscape beautifully lit up.
Before us all was light and bright, and behind the mist and rain seemed
to come down heavily over the mountains.

Further on we passed _Poul Skeinnie Bridge_ and _Tarf Bridge_, both
regular steep Highland bridges. To the right of the latter there is a
new Free Kirk--further on _Captain Wemyss’s Retreat_, a strange-looking
place,--to the left _Mill Dane_--and, on a small eminence, the _Castle
of Auch Mill_, which now resembles an old farm-house, but has traces
of a terrace garden remaining. The hills round it and near the road to
the left were like small mounds. A little further on again we came to
a wood, where we got out and walked along _The Burn_, Major McInroy’s.
The path winds along through the wood just above this most curious
narrow gorge, which is unlike any of the other lynns; the rocks are
very peculiar, and the burn very narrow, with deep pools completely
overhung by wood. It extends some way. The woods and grounds might be
in _Wales_, or even in _Hawthornden_. We walked through the wood and
a little way along the road, till the carriages overtook us. We had
three miles further to drive to _Fettercairn_, in all 40 miles from
_Balmoral_. We came upon a flat country, evidently much cultivated, but
it was too dark to see anything.

At a quarter-past seven o’clock we reached the small quiet town,
or rather village, of _Fettercairn_, for it was very small--not a
creature stirring, and we got out at the quiet little inn, “Ramsay
Arms,” quite unobserved, and went at once upstairs. There was a very
nice drawing-room, and next to it, a dining-room, both very clean and
tidy--then to the left our bed-room, which was excessively small, but
also very clean and neat, and much better furnished than at _Grantown_.
Alice had a nice room, the same size as ours; then came a mere morsel
of one, (with a “press bed,”) in which Albert dressed; and then came
Lady Churchill’s bed-room just beyond. Louis and General Grey had rooms
in an hotel, called “The Temperance Hotel,” opposite. We dined at
eight, a very nice, clean, good dinner. Grant and Brown waited. They
were rather nervous, but General Grey and Lady Churchill carved, and
they had only to change the plates, which Brown soon got into the way
of doing. A little girl of the house came in to help--but Grant turned
her round to prevent her looking at us! The landlord and landlady knew
who we were, but _no one else_ except the coachman, and they kept the
secret admirably.

The evening being bright and moonlight and very still, we all went
out, and walked through the whole village, where not a creature
moved;--through the principal little square, in the middle of which
was a sort of pillar or Town Cross on steps, and Louis read, by the
light of the moon, a proclamation for collections of charities which
was stuck on it. We walked on along a lane a short way, hearing nothing
whatever--not a leaf moving--but the distant barking of a dog! Suddenly
we heard a drum and fifes! We were greatly alarmed, fearing we had been
recognized; but Louis and General Grey, who went back, saw nothing
whatever. Still, as we walked slowly back, we heard the noise from time
to time,--and when we reached the inn door we stopped, and saw six men
march up with fifes and a drum (not a creature taking any notice of
them), go down the street, and back again. Grant and Brown were out;
but had no idea what it could be. Albert asked the little maid, and
the answer was, “It’s just a band,” and that it walked about in this
way twice a week. How odd! It went on playing some time after we got
home. We sat till half-past ten working, and Albert reading,--and then
retired to rest.


  _Saturday, September 21._

Got to sleep after two or three o’clock. The morning was dull and
close, and misty with a little rain; hardly any one stirring; but a
few people at their work. A traveller had arrived at night, and wanted
to come up into the dining-room, which is the “commercial travellers’
room;” and they had difficulty in telling him he could _not_ stop
there. He joined Grant and Brown at their tea, and on his asking,
“What’s the matter here?” Grant answered, “It’s a wedding party from
_Aberdeen_.” At “The Temperance Hotel” they were very anxious to know
whom they had got. All, except General Grey, breakfasted a little
before nine. Brown acted as my servant, brushing my skirt and boots,
and taking any message, and Grant as Albert’s valet.

At a quarter to ten we started the same way as before, except that
we were in the carriage which Lady Churchill and the General had
yesterday. It was unfortunately misty, and we could see no distance.
The people had just discovered who we were, and a few cheered us as we
went along. We passed close to _Fettercairn_, Sir J. Forbes’s house;
then further on to the left, _Fasque_, belonging to Sir T. Gladstone,
who has evidently done a great deal for the country, having built
many good cottages. We then came to a very long hill, at least four
miles in length, called the _Cairnie Month_, whence there is a very
fine view; but which was entirely obscured by a heavy driving mist.
We walked up part of it, and then for a little while Alice and I sat
alone in the carriage. We next came to the _Spittal Bridge_, a curious
high bridge with the _Dye Water_ to the left, and the _Spittal Burn_ to
the right. Sir T. Gladstone’s shooting-place is close to the _Bridge
of Dye_--where we changed carriages again, re-entering the double
dog-cart--Albert and I inside, and Louis sitting behind. We went
up a hill again and saw _Mount Battock_ to the north-west, close to
Sir T. Gladstone’s shooting-lodge. You then come to an open country,
with an extensive view towards _Aberdeen_, and to a very deep, rough
ford, where you pass the _Feugh_, at a place called _White Stones_.
It is very pretty and a fine glen with wood. About two miles further
to the north-west, on the left, is _Finzean_; and, a little beyond,
is “King Durdun’s Stone,” as they call it, by the roadside--a large,
heavy, ancient stone,--the history of which, however, we have not yet
discovered. Then we passed _Mary’s Well_, to the left of which is
_Ballogie House_, a fine property belonging to Mr. Dyce Nicol. The
harvest and everything seemed prosperous, and the country was very
pretty. We got out at a very small village, (where the horses had some
water, for it was a terribly long stage,) and walked a little way
along the road. Alice, Lady Churchill, and I, went into the house of a
tailor, which was very tidy, and the woman in it most friendly, asking
us to rest there; but not dreaming who we were.

We drove on again, watching ominous-looking clouds, which, however,
cleared off afterwards. We saw the woods of Lord Huntly’s forest, and
the hills which one sees from the road to _Aboyne_. Instead of going
on to _Aboyne_ we turned to the left, leaving the _Bridge of Aboyne_
(which we had not seen before) to the right. A little beyond this, out
of sight of all habitations, we found the postmaster, with another
carriage for us. This was 22 miles from _Fettercairn_. We crossed
the _Tanar Water_, and drove to the left up _Glen Tanar_--a really
beautiful and richly-wooded glen, between high hills--part of Lord
Huntly’s forest. We drove on about six miles, and then stopped, as it
was past two, to get our luncheon. The day kept quite fair in spite of
threatening clouds and gathering mist. The spot where we lunched was
very pretty. This over, we walked on a little, and then got into the
carriages again, and drove to the end of the glen--out of the trees to
_Eatnoch_, on to a keeper’s house in the glen--a very lonely place,
where our ponies were. It was about four when we arrived. A wretched
idiot girl was here by herself, as tall as Lady Churchill; but a good
deal bent, and dressed like a child, with a pinafore and short-cut
hair. She sat on the ground with her hands round her knees, rocking
herself to and fro and laughing; she then got up and walked towards us.
General Grey put himself before me, and she went up to him, and began
taking hold of his coat, and putting her hand into his pockets, which
set us all off laughing, sad as it was. An old man walked up hastily
soon after, and on Lady Churchill asking him if he knew that poor girl,
he said, “Yes, she belongs to me, she has a weakness in her mind;” and
led her off hurriedly.

We walked on a few hundred yards, and then mounted our ponies a little
higher up, and then proceeded across the other shoulder of the hill
we had come down yesterday--crossed the boggy part, and came over the
_Polach_ just as in going. The mist on the distant hills, _Mount Keen_,
&c., made it feel chilly. Coming down the peat-road[54] to the _Bridge
of Muich_, the view of the valleys of _Muich_, _Gairn_, and _Ballater_
was beautiful. As we went along I talked frequently with good Grant.

[54] Grant told me in May, 1862, that, when the Prince stopped behind
with him, looking at the Choils which he intended as a deer-forest for
the Prince of Wales, and giving his directions as to the planting in
Glen Muich, he said to Grant,—“You and I may be dead and gone before
that.” In less than three months, alas! his words were verified as
regards himself! He was ever cheerful, but ever ready and prepared.

We found my dearest Mother’s sociable, a fine large one, which she
has left to Albert, waiting to take us back. It made me very sad, and
filled my eyes with tears. Oh, in the midst of cheerfulness, I feel so
sad! But being out a great deal here--and seeing new and fine scenery,
does me good.

We got back to _Balmoral_, much pleased with our expedition, at seven
o’clock. We had gone 42 miles to-day, and 40 yesterday, in all 82.




EXPEDITION TO LOCH AVON.


  _Saturday, September 28, 1861._

Looked out very anxiously. A doubtful morning; still gleams of
sunshine burst through the mist, and it seemed improving all round.
We breakfasted at a quarter to eight, with Alice and Louis, in our
sitting-room; and started at half-past eight. Louis and Alice with us,
Grant and Brown on the box, as usual. The morning greatly improved.

We drove along the north side of the river, the day clearing very much,
and becoming really fine. We took post-horses at _Castleton_, and drove
up to the _Derry_ (the road up _Glen Luie_ very bad indeed); and here
we mounted our ponies, and proceeded the usual way up _Glen Derry_,
as far as where the path turns up to _Loch Etchan_. Instead of going
that way, we proceeded straight on--a dreadfully rough, stony road,
though not steep, but rougher than anything we ever rode upon before,
and terrible for the poor horses’ feet. We passed by two little lakes
called the _Dhoolochans_, opposite to where the glen runs down to
_Inchrory_, and after crossing them, there was a short boggy bit, where
I got off and walked some way on the opposite side, along the “brae”
of the hill, on the other side of which the loch lies, and then got
on again. It was so saturated with water, that the moss and grass and
everything were soaked,--not very pleasant riding, particularly as it
was along the slope of the hill. We went on and on, nearly two miles
from the foot of this hill, expecting to see the loch, but another low
hill hid it from us, till at length we came in sight of it; and nothing
could be grander and wilder--the rocks are so grand and precipitous,
and the snow on _Ben Muich Dhui_ had such a fine effect.

We saw the spot at the foot of _Loch Etchan_ to which we scrambled last
year, and looked down upon _Loch Avon_. It was very cold and windy.
At length, at a quarter-past two, we sat down behind a large stone a
little above the loch (unfortunately, we could not go to the extreme
end, where the water rushes into it). We lunched as quickly as we
could, and then began walking back, and crossed the hill higher up than
in coming. I walked for some time, but it was not easy, from the great
wet and the very uneven ground. Good Louis helped me often; Albert
and Alice running along without assistance. Remounted my pony, which,
as well as Albert’s, went beautifully, carefully led by that most
attentive of servants, Brown. I had again to get off before we crossed
by the _Dhoolochans_; but after that we rode back the whole way.

We had the same guide, Charlie Stewart, who took us to _Glen Fishie_
last year, and who walks wonderfully. We had two slight showers going
down, and saw that there had been much more rain below. We found the
_Ford of the Derry_ very deep, nearly up to the ponies’ girths; and
the roughness and stoniness of the road is beyond everything, but the
ponies picked their way like cats. We were down at the _Derry_ by
nearly six o’clock; the distance to _Loch Avon_ being ten miles. Found
our carriages there: it was already getting darkish, but still it was
quite light enough to enable the post-boys to see their way.

At the bridge at _Mar Lodge_, Brown lit the lanterns. We gave him and
Grant our plaids to put on, as we always do when they have walked
a long way with us and drive afterwards. We took our own horses at
_Castleton_, and reached _Balmoral_ at ten minutes past eight, much
pleased with the success of our expedition, and really _not_ tired. We
dined _en famille_.




THIRD GREAT EXPEDITION:--TO GLEN FISHIE, DALWHINNIE, AND BLAIR ATHOLE.


  _Tuesday, October 8, 1861._

The morning was dull and rather overcast; however, we decided to go.
General Grey had gone on before. We three ladies drove in the sociable:
Albert and Louis in a carriage from _Castleton_. The clouds looked
heavy and dark, though not like mist hanging on the mountains. Down
came a heavy shower; but before we reached _Castleton_ it cleared; blue
sky appeared; and, as there was much wind, Grant thought all would
be well, and the day very fine. Changed horses at _Castleton_, and
drove beyond the _Linn of Dee_ to the _Giuly_ or _Geldie Water_--just
where last year we mounted our ponies, 18 miles from _Balmoral_. Here
we found our ponies--“Inchrory” for me, and a new pony for Alice--a
tall grey one, ugly but safe. The others rode their usual ones. The
same guide, Charlie Stewart, was there, and a pony for the luncheon
panniers, and a spare one for Grant and others to ride in turn.

We started about ten minutes past eleven, and proceeded exactly as last
year, fording the _Geldie_ at first very frequently. The ground was
wet, but not worse than last year. We had gone on very well for about
an hour, when the mist thickened all round, and down came heavy, or
at least beating, rain with wind. With the help of an umbrella, and
waterproofs and a plaid, I kept quite dry. Dearest Albert, who walked
from the time the ground became boggy, got very wet, but was none
the worse for it, and we got through it much better than before; we
ladies never having to get off our ponies. At length at two o’clock,
just as we were entering that beautiful _Glen Fishie_, which at its
commencement reminds one of _The Burn_ (McInroy’s), it cleared and
became quite fine and very mild. Brown waded through the _Etchart_
leading my pony; and then two of the others, who were riding together
on another pony, dropped the whole bundle of cloaks into the water!

The falls of the _Stron-na-Barin_, with that narrow steep glen, which
you ride up, crossing at the bottom, were in great beauty. We stopped
before we entered the wood, and lunched on the bank overhanging the
river, where General Grey joined us, and gave us an account of his
arrangements. We lunched rather hurriedly, remounted our ponies and
rode a short way--till we came near to a very steep place, not very
pleasant to ride. So fine! numberless little burns running down in
cascades. We walked a short way, and then remounted our ponies; but as
we were to keep on the other side of the river, not by the _Invereshie_
huts, we had to get off for a few hundred yards, the path being so
narrow as to make it utterly unsafe to ride. Alice’s pony already
began to slip. The huts, surrounded by magnificent fir-trees, and by
quantities of juniper-bushes, looked lovelier than ever; and we gazed
with sorrow at their utter ruin. I felt what a delightful little
encampment it must have been, and how enchanting to live in such a spot
as this beautiful solitary wood in a glen surrounded by the high hills.
We got off, and went into one of the huts to look at a fresco of stags
of Landseer’s, over a chimney-piece. Grant, on a pony, led me through
the _Fishie_ (all the fords are deep) at the foot of the farm-houses,
where we met Lord and Lady Alexander Russell last year--and where we
this time found two carriages. We dismounted and entered them, and were
off at five o’clock--we were to have started at four.

We four drove together by the same way as we rode last year (and
nothing could be rougher for driving), quite to the second wood, which
led us past _Loch Inch_; but we turned short of the loch to the left
along the high road. Unfortunately by this time it was nearly dark,
and we therefore lost a great deal of the fine scenery. We had ridden
15 miles. We drove along the road over several bridges--the _Bridge of
Carr_, close below the ruined _Castle of Ruthven_, which we could just
descry in the dusk--and on a long wooden bridge over the _Spey_ to an
inn at _Kingussie_, a very straggling place with very few cottages.
Already, before we arrived there, we were struck by people standing
at their cottage doors, and evidently looking out, which made us
believe we were expected. At _Kingussie_ there was a small, curious,
chattering crowd of people--who, however, did not really make us out,
but evidently suspected who we were. Grant and Brown kept them off
the carriages, and gave them evasive answers, directing them to the
wrong carriage, which was most amusing. One old gentleman, with a high
wide-awake, was especially inquisitive.

We started again, and went on and on, passing through the village of
_Newtonmoore_, where the footman McDonald[55] comes from. Here the
_Spey_ is crossed at its junction with the _Truim_, and then the road
ascends for ten miles more to _Dalwhinnie_. It became cold and windy
with occasional rain. At length, and not till a quarter to nine, we
reached the inn of _Dalwhinnie_,--29 miles from where we had left our
ponies,--which stands by itself, away from any village. Here, again,
there were a few people assembled, and I thought they knew us; but it
seems they did not, and it was only when we arrived that one of the
maids recognized me. She had seen me at _Aberdeen_ and _Edinburgh_.
We went upstairs: the inn was much larger than at _Fettercairn_,
but not nearly so nice and cheerful; there was a drawing-room and
a dining-room; and we had a very good-sized bed-room. Albert had a
dressing-room of equal size. Mary Andrews[56] (who was very useful and
efficient) and Lady Churchill’s maid had a room together, every one
being in the house; but unfortunately there was hardly anything to eat,
and there was only tea, and two miserable starved Highland chickens,
without any potatoes! No pudding, and no _fun_; no little maid (the two
there not wishing to come in), nor our two people--who were wet and
drying our and their things--to wait on us! It was not a nice supper;
and the evening was wet. As it was late we soon retired to rest. Mary
and Maxted (Lady Churchill’s maid) had been dining below with Grant,
Brown, and Stewart (who came, the same as last time, with the maids)
in the “commercial room” at the foot of the stairs. They had only the
remnants of our two starved chickens!

[55] He died at Abergeldie last year of consumption; and his widow, an
excellent person, daughter of Mitchell the blacksmith at Balmoral, is
now my wardrobe-maid.

[56] One of my wardrobe-maids--now dresser to Princess Helena
(Princess Christian). Her father was thirty-eight years with my dear
uncle the King of the Belgians.


  _Wednesday, October 9._

A bright morning, which was very charming. Albert found, on getting up,
that Cluny Macpherson, with his piper and two ladies, had arrived quite
early in the morning; and, while we were dressing, we heard a drum and
fife--and discovered that the newly-formed volunteers had arrived--all
indicating that we were discovered. However, there was scarcely any
population, and it did not signify. The fat old landlady had put on
a black satin dress, with white ribbons and orange flowers! We had
breakfast at a quarter to nine o’clock; at half-past nine we started.
Cluny was at the door with his wife and daughters with nosegays,
and the volunteers were drawn up in front of the inn. They had all
assembled since Saturday afternoon!

We drove as we did yesterday. Fine and very wild scenery, high wild
hills, and no habitations. We went by the _Pass of Drumouchter_, with
fine hills on both sides and in front of us; passed between two, the
one on our left called _The Boar of Badenoch_, and that on the right,
_The Athole Sow_. The _Pass of Drumouchter_ separates _Perthshire_ from
_Inverness-shire_.

Again, a little farther on, we came to _Loch Garry_, which is very
beautiful--but the mist covered the furthest hills, and the extreme
distance was clouded. There is a small shooting-lodge, or farm,
charmingly situated, looking up the glen on both sides, and with the
loch in front; we did not hear to whom it belonged. We passed many
drovers, without their herds and flocks, returning, Grant told us, from
_Falkirk_. We had one very heavy shower after _Loch Garry_ and before
we came to _Dalnacardoch Inn_, 13 miles from _Dalwhinnie_. The road
goes beside the _Garry_. The country for a time became flatter; but was
a good deal cultivated. At _Dalnacardoch Inn_ there was a suspicion
and expectation of our arrival. Four horses with smart postilions were
in waiting; but, on General Grey’s saying that this was _not_ the
party, but the one for whom only two horses had been ordered, a shabby
pair of horses were put in; a shabby driver driving from the box (as
throughout this journey), and off we started.

The _Garry_ is very fine, rolling along over large stones--like the
_Quoich_ and the _Fishie_, and forming perpetual falls, with birch
and mountain-ash growing down to the water’s edge. We had some more
heavy showers. A few miles from _Dalnacardoch_ the Duke of Athole (in
his kilt and shooting-jacket, as usual) met us on a pretty little
chestnut pony, and rode the whole time near the carriage. He said,
there were vague suspicions and rumours of our coming, but he had told
no one anything. There was again a shower, but it cleared when we came
in sight of _Ben-y-Ghlo_, and the splendid _Pass of Killiekrankie_,
which, with the birch all golden,--not, as on _Deeside_, bereft of
leaves,--looked very beautiful.

We passed by the _Bruar_, and the road to the _Falls of the Bruar_,
but could not stop. The Duke took us through a new approach, which
is extremely pretty; but near which, I cannot help regretting, the
railroad will come, as well as along the road by which we drove through
the _Pass of Drumouchter_. The Duke has made great improvements,
and the path looked beautiful, surrounded as it is by hills; and
the foliage still full, though in all its autumn tints--the whole
being lit up with bright sunshine. We drove through an avenue, and
in a few minutes more were at the door of the old castle. A thousand
recollections of seventeen years ago crowded upon me--all seemed so
familiar again! No one there except the dear Duchess, who stood at the
door, and whom I warmly embraced; and Miss Mac Gregor. How well I
recognized the hall with all the sporting trophies; and the staircase,
which we went up at once. The Duchess took us to a room which I
recognized immediately as the one where Lady Canning lived. There we
took off our things--then went to look at the old and really very
handsome rooms in which we had lived--the one in which Vicky had slept
in two chairs, then not four years old! In the dining-room we took some
coffee, which was most welcome; and then we looked at all the stags’
horns put up in one of the corridors below; saw the Duke’s pet dog, a
smooth-haired black terrier, very fat; and then got into the carriage,
a very peculiar one, viz., a _boat_--a mere boat (which is very light),
put on four wheels, drawn by a pair of horses with a postilion.
Into this we four got, with the Duke and Duchess and the dog;--Lady
Churchill, General Grey, and Miss Mac Gregor going in another carriage;
with our two servants on the box, to whom all this was quite new and
a great treat. The morning was beautiful. It was half-past twelve--we
drove up by the avenue and about a favourite walk of ours in ’44,
passed through the gate, and came on to _Glen Tilt_--which is most
striking, the road winding along, first on one side of the _Tilt_, and
then on the other; the fine high hills rising very abruptly from each
side of the rapid, rocky, stony river _Tilt_--the trees, chiefly birch
and alder, overhanging the water.

We passed the _Marble Lodge_, in which one of the keepers lives, and
came to _Forest Lodge_, where the road for carriages ends, and the
glen widens. There were our ponies, which had passed the night at the
_Bainoch_ or _Beynoch_ (a shooting “shiel” of Lord Fife’s). They came
over this morning; but, poor beasts, without having had any corn!
_Forest Lodge_ is eight miles from _Blair_. There we took leave of the
dear Duchess; and saw old Peter Frazer, the former head-keeper there,
now walking with the aid of two sticks! The Duke’s keepers were there,
his pipers, and a gentleman staying on a visit with him.

It was barely two o’clock when we started. We on our ponies, the Duke
and his men (twelve altogether) on foot--Sandy McAra, now head-keeper,
grown old and grey, and two pipers, preceded us; the two latter playing
alternately the whole time, which had a most cheerful effect. The wild
strains sounded so softly amid those noble hills; and our caravan
winding along--our people and the Duke’s all in kilts, and the ponies,
made altogether a most picturesque scene.

One of the Duke’s keepers, Donald Macbeath, is a guardsman, and was in
the _Crimea_. He is a celebrated marksman, and a fine-looking man, as
all the Duke’s men are. For some little time it was easy riding, but
soon we came to a rougher path, more on the “brae” of the hill, where
the pony required to be led, which I always have done, either when it
is at all rough or bad, or when the pony has to be got on faster.

The Duke walked near me the greater part of the time; amusingly saying,
in reference to former times, that he did not offer to lead me, as he
knew I had no confidence in him. I replied, laughingly, “Oh, no, only I
like best being led by the person I am accustomed to.”

At length, at about three, we stopped, and lunched at a place called
_Dalcronachie_, looking up a glen towards _Loch Loch_--on a high bank
overhanging the _Tilt_. Looking back the view was very fine; so, while
the things were being unpacked for lunch, we sketched. We brought our
own luncheon, and the remainder was as usual given to the men, but
this time there were a great many to feed. After luncheon we set off
again. I walked a few paces; but as it was very wet, and the road very
rough, by Albert’s desire I got on again. A very few minutes brought
us to the celebrated ford of the _Tarff_, (_Poll Tarff_ it is called,)
which is very deep--and after heavy rain almost impassable. The Duke
offered to lead the pony on one side, and talked of Sandy for the other
side, but I asked for Brown (whom I have far the most confidence in)
to lead the pony, the Duke taking hold of it (as he did frequently) on
the other side. Sandy McAra, the guide, and the two pipers went first,
playing all the time. To all appearance the ford of the _Tarff_ was not
deeper than the other fords, but once in it the men were above their
knees--and suddenly in the middle, where the current, from the fine,
high, full falls, is very strong, it was nearly up to the men’s waists.
Here Sandy returned, and I said to the Duke (which he afterwards
joked with Sandy about) that I thought he (Sandy) had better take the
Duke’s place; he did so, and we came very well through, all the others
following, the men chiefly wading--Albert (close behind me) and the
others riding through--and some of our people coming over double on the
ponies. General Grey had little Peter Robertson up behind him.

The road after this became almost precipitous, and indeed made riding
very unpleasant; but being wet, and difficult to walk, we ladies rode,
Albert walking the greater part of the time. Only once, for a very few
steps, I had to get off, as the pony could hardly keep its footing. As
it was, Brown constantly could not walk next to the pony, but had to
scramble below, or pull it after him. The Duke was indefatigable.

[Illustration: FORDING THE POLL TARF.

_After a Drawing by Carl Haag._]

The _Tilt_ becomes narrower and narrower, till its first source is
almost invisible. The _Tarff_ flows into the _Tilt_, about two miles
or more beyond the falls. We emerged from the pass upon an open
valley--with less high hills and with the hills of _Braemar_ before us.
We crossed the _Bainoch_ or _Bynack_, quite a small stream, and when
we came to the “County March”--where _Perth_ and _Aberdeen_ join--we
halted. The Duke gave Albert and me some whisky to drink, out of an
old silver flask of his own, and then made a short speech proposing my
health, expressing the pleasure with which he and all had received me
at _Blair_, and hoping that I would return as often as I liked, and
that I should have a safe return home; ending by the true Highland
“Nis! nis! nis! Sit air a-nis! A-ris! a-ris! a-ris!” (pronounced:
“Neesh! neesh! neesh! Sheet eir, a-neesh! A-rees! a-rees! a-rees!”)
which means: “Now! now! now! That to him, now! Again! again! again!”
which was responded to by cheering from all. Grant then proposed “three
cheers for the Duke of Athole,” which was also very warmly responded
to;--my pony (good “Inchrory”), which went admirably, rather resenting
the vehemence of Brown’s cheering.

We then went on again for about three miles to the _Bainoch_, which we
reached at ten minutes to six, when it was already nearly dark. As we
approached the “shiel,” the pipers struck up, and played. The ponies
went so well with the pipes, and altogether it was very pleasant to
ride and walk with them. They played “the Athole Highlanders” when we
started, and again in coming in.

Lady Fife had very kindly come down to the _Bainoch_ herself, where she
gave us tea, which was very welcome. We then got into our carriages,
wishing the good Duke of Athole good-by. He was going back the whole
way--which was certainly rather a hazardous proceeding, at least an
adventurous one, considering the night, and that there was no moon--and
what the road was! We got home safely at a quarter-past eight. The
night was quite warm, though slightly showery--but became very clear
and starlight later.

We had travelled 69 miles to-day, and 60 yesterday. This was the
pleasantest and most enjoyable expedition I _ever_ made; and the
recollection of it will always be most agreeable to me, and increase my
wish to make more! Was so glad dear Louis (who is a charming companion)
was with us. Have enjoyed nothing as much, or indeed felt so much
cheered by anything, since my great sorrow.[57] Did not feel tired. We
ladies did not dress, and dined _en famille_; looking at maps of the
_Highlands_ after dinner.

[57] The death of the Duchess of Kent.




LAST EXPEDITION.


  _Wednesday, October 16, 1861._

To our great satisfaction it was a most beautiful morning. Not a cloud
was on the bright blue sky, and it was perfectly calm. There had been
a sharp frost which lay on parts of the grass, and the mountains were
beautifully lit up, with those very blue shades upon them, like the
bloom on a plum. Up early, and breakfasted with Alice, Louis, and
Lenchen, in our room. At twenty minutes to nine o’clock we started,
with Alice, Lenchen, and Louis. The morning was beyond everything
splendid, and the country in such beauty, though the poor trees are
nearly leafless.

Near _Castleton_, and indeed all along the road, in the shade, the
frost still lay, and the air was very sharp. We took post-horses at
_Castleton_, and proceeded up _Glen Clunie_ to _Glen Callater_, which
looked lovely, and which Albert admired much. In a little more than
two hours we were at _Loch Callater_--the road was very bad indeed as
we approached the loch, where our ponies were waiting for us. After
walking a few paces we remounted them, I on my good “Fyvie,” and Alice
on “Inchrory.”

The day was glorious--and the whole expedition delightful, and very
easily performed. We ascended _Little Cairn Turc_, on the north side
of _Loch Callater_, up a sort of footpath very easy and even, upon
ground that was almost flat, rising very gradually, but imperceptibly;
and the view became wonderfully extensive. The top of _Cairn Turc_ is
quite flat--with moss and grass--so that you could drive upon it. It is
very high, for you see the high table-land behind the highest point of
_Loch-na-Gar_. On that side you have no view; but from the other it is
wonderfully extensive. It was so clear and bright, and so still there,
reminding us of the day on _Ben Muich Dhui_ last year.

There rose immediately behind us _Ben Muich Dhui_, which you hardly
ever see, and the shape of which is not fine, with its surrounding
mountains of _Cairngorm_, _Brae Riach_, _Ben Avon_ or _A’an_,
_Ben-na-Bhourd_, &c. We saw _Ben-y-Ghlo_ quite clearly, and all that
range of hills; then, further west, _Shichallion_, near _Loch Tay_; the
mountains which are near the _Black Mount_; and, quite on the horizon,
we could discern _Ben Nevis_, which is above _Fort William_.

Going up _Cairn Turc_ we looked down upon _Loch Canter_, a small loch
above _Loch Callater_, very wild and dark. We proceeded to _Cairn
Glaishie_, at the extreme point of which a cairn has been erected. We
got off to take a look at the wonderful panorama which lay stretched
out before us. We looked on _Fifeshire_, and the country between
_Perth_ and _Stirling_, the _Lomond Hills_, &c. It was beautifully
clear, and really it was most interesting to look over such an immense
extent of the _Highlands_. I give a very poor description of it; but
here follows a rough account of the places we saw:—

To the North--_Ben Muich Dhui_, _Brae Riach_, _Cairngorm_, _Ben Avon_,
_Ben-na-Bhourd_.

To the East--_Loch-na-Gar_, &c.

To the South-West--_Ben-y-Ghlo_ or _Ben-y-Gloe_, and the surrounding
hills beyond _Shichallion_, and the mountains between _Dunkeld_ and the
_Black Mount_.

Quite in the extreme West--_Ben Nevis_.

To the South--the _Lomond Hills_; _Perth_ in the middle distance.

[Illustration: LUNCHEON AT CAIRN LOCHAN.

_After a Drawing by Carl Haag._]

We walked on a little way, and then I got upon my pony. Another half
hour’s riding again over such singular flat table-land, brought us on
to the edge of the valley of _Cairn Lochan_, which is indeed “a bonnie
place.” It reminded me and Louis of _Clova_; only there one did not
see the immense extent of mountains behind. _Cairn Lochan_ is a narrow
valley, the river _Isla_ winding through it like a silver ribbon, with
trees at the bottom. The hills are green and steep, but towards the
head of the valley there are fine precipices. We had then to take a
somewhat circuitous route in order to avoid some bogs, and to come to
a spot where we looked right up the valley for an immense distance; to
the left, or rather more to the south, was _Glen Isla_, another glen,
but wider, and not with the same high mountains as _Cairn Lochan_.
Beyond _Glen Isla_ were seen the _Lomond Hills_ behind _Kinross_, at
the foot of which is _Loch Leven_.

We sat on a very precipitous place, which made one dread any one’s
moving backwards; and here, at a little before two o’clock, we lunched.
The lights were charmingly soft, and, as I said before, like the bloom
on a plum. The luncheon was very acceptable, for the air was extremely
keen, and we found ice thicker than a shilling on the top of _Cairn
Turc_, which did not melt when Brown took it and kept it in his hand.

Helena was so delighted, for this was _the only really great_
expedition in which she had accompanied us.

Duncan and the keeper at _Loch Callater_ (R. Stewart) went with us as
guides.


I made some hasty sketches; and then Albert wrote on a bit of paper
that we had lunched here, put it into the Selters-water bottle, and
buried it there, or rather stuck it into the ground. Grant had done
the same when we visited _Ben Muich Dhui_ the first time. This over,
we walked part of the way back which we had ridden to avoid the
bogs,--we ladies walking only a short way, and then riding. We altered
our course, and left _Cairn Glaishie_ to our right, and went in the
direction of the _Cairn Wall_. Looking back on the distant hills above
_Glen Isla_ and _Cairn Lochan_ (Lord Airlie’s “Country”), it was even
more beautiful; for, as the day advanced, the mountains became clearer
and clearer, of a lovely blue, while the valleys were in shadow.
_Shichallion_, and those further ranges, were also most perfectly to
be seen, and gave me such a longing for further Highland expeditions!
We went over _Garbchory_, looking down on the road to the _Spittal_;
and on the lower mountains, which are most curiously connected one with
another, and which, from the height we were, we could look down upon.

Here follows the account of our route, with all the names as written
down by Duncan. I cannot “mind” the names, as they say here.

 From _Balmoral_ to--

  _Loch Callater_, four miles,
  Left _Loch Callater_ at 11 o’clock, A.M.,
  _Little Cairn Turc_,
  _Big Cairn Turc_,
  _Loch Canter_,
  _Cairn Glaishie_,
  _Cairn Lochan_,
  _Ca-Ness_, six miles.

 Returning route:—

  _Cairn Lochan_,
  _Cairn Glashie_,
  _Garb Chory_,
  _Month Eigie Road_,
  _Glass Meall_,
  _Fian Chory_,
  _Aron Ghey_,
  _Shean Spittal Bridge_, 4.30 P.M.,
  _Shean Spittal Bridge_ to _Balmoral_, 16 miles.

This gave one a very good idea of the geography of the country, which
delighted dear Albert, as this expedition was quite in a different
direction from any that we had ever made before. But my head is so very
ungeographical, that I cannot describe it. We came down by the _Month
Eigie_, a steep hill covered with grass--down part of which I rode,
walking where it was steepest; but it was so wet and slippery that I
had two falls. We got down to the road to the _Spittal Bridge_, about
15 miles from _Castleton_, at nearly half-past four, and then down
along the new road, at least that part of it which is finished, and
which is to extend to the _Cairn Wall_. We went back on our side of
the river; and if we had been a little earlier, Albert might have got
a stag--but it was too late. The moon rose and shone most beautifully,
and we returned at twenty minutes to seven o’clock, much pleased and
interested with this delightful expedition. Alas! I fear our _last_
great one!


(IT WAS OUR LAST ONE!--1867.)




_TOURS_

_in_

_ENGLAND AND IRELAND,_

_and_

_YACHTING EXCURSIONS._




FIRST VISIT TO IRELAND.


  _On Board the Victoria and Albert,
  in the Cove of Cork,
  Thursday, August 2, 1849._

Arrived here after a quick but not very pleasant passage. The day was
fine and bright, and the sea to all appearance very smooth; but there
was a dreadful swell, which made one incapable of reading or doing
anything. We passed the _Land’s End_ at nine o’clock in the morning.
When we went on deck after eight in the evening, we were close to
the _Cove of Cork_, and could see many bonfires on the hill, and the
rockets and lights that were sent off from the different steamers. The
harbour is immense, though the land is not very high, and entering by
twilight it had a very fine effect. Lady Jocelyn, Miss Dawson, Lord
Fortescue (Lord Steward), Sir George Grey (Secretary of State for the
Home Department), Miss Hildyard, Sir James Clark, and Mr. Birch are on
board with us. The equerries, Colonel Phipps and Colonel Gordon, are on
board the “Black Eagle.”


  _Friday, August 3._

The day was grey and excessively “muggy,” which is the character of the
Irish climate. The ships saluted at eight o’clock, and the “Ganges”
(the flag-ship and a three-decker) and the “Hogue” (a three-decker cut
down, with very heavy guns, and with a screw put into her), which are
both very near us, made a great noise. The harbour is very extensive,
and there are several islands in it, one of which is very large. _Spike
Island_ is immediately opposite us, and has a convict prison; near it
another island with the depôt, &c. In a line with that is the town of
_Cove_, picturesquely built up a hill. The two war-steamers have only
just come in. The Admiral (Dixon) and the Captains of the vessels came
on board. Later, Lord Bandon (Lord-Lieutenant of the county), Lord
Thomond, General Turner, Commander of the Forces at Cork, presented
their respects, and Albert went on shore, and I occupied myself in
writing and sketching. Albert returned before our luncheon, and had
been walking about and visiting some of the cabins.

We left the yacht at two with the ladies and gentlemen, and went on
board the “Fairy,” which was surrounded with rowing and sailing boats.
We first went round the harbour, all the ships saluting, as well as
numbers of steamers and yachts. We then went into _Cove_ and lay
alongside the landing-place, which was very prettily decorated; and
covered with people; and yachts, ships and boats crowding all round.
The two Members, Messrs. Roche and Power, as well as other gentlemen,
including the Roman Catholic and Protestant clergymen, and then the
members of the Yacht Club, presented addresses. After which, to give
the people the satisfaction of calling the place _Queenstown_, in
honour of its being the first spot on which I set foot upon Irish
ground, I stepped on shore amidst the roar of cannon (for the artillery
were placed so close as quite to shake the temporary room which we
entered); and the enthusiastic shouts of the people. We immediately
re-embarked and proceeded up the river _Lee_ towards _Cork_. It is
extremely pretty and richly wooded, and reminded me of the _Tamar_.
The first feature of interest we passed was a little bathing-place,
called _Monkstown_, and later _Blackrock Castle_, at which point we
stopped to receive a salmon, and a very pretty address from the poor
fishermen of _Blackrock_.

As we approached the city we saw people streaming in, on foot, on
horseback, and many in jaunting-cars. When we reached _Cork_ the
“Fairy” again lay alongside, and we received all the addresses: first,
from the Mayor and Corporation (I knighted the Mayor immediately
afterwards), then from the Protestant Bishop and clergy; from the Roman
Catholic Bishop and clergy; from the Lord-Lieutenant of the county,
the Sheriffs, and others. The two Judges, who were holding their
courts, also came on board in their robes. After all this was over we
landed, and walked some few paces on to where Lord Bandon’s carriage
was ready to receive us. The ladies went with us, and Lord Bandon and
the General rode on each side of the carriage. The Mayor preceded us,
and many (Lord Listowel among the number,) followed on horseback or
in carriages. The 12th Lancers escorted us, and the Pensioners and
Infantry lined the streets.

I cannot describe our route, but it will suffice to say that it took
two hours; that we drove through the principal streets; twice through
some of them; that they were densely crowded, decorated with flowers
and triumphal arches; that the heat and dust were great; that we passed
by the new College which is building--one of the four which are ordered
by Act of Parliament; that our reception was most enthusiastic; and
that everything went off to perfection, and was very well arranged.
_Cork_ is not at all like an English town, and looks rather foreign.

The crowd is a noisy, excitable, but very good-humoured one, running
and pushing about, and laughing, talking, and shrieking. The beauty
of the women is very remarkable, and struck us much; such beautiful
dark eyes and hair, and such fine teeth; almost every third woman was
pretty, and some remarkably so. They wear no bonnets, and generally
long blue cloaks; the men are very poorly, often raggedly dressed; and
many wear blue coats and short breeches with blue stockings.

We re-embarked at the same place and returned just as we came.


  _Kingstown Harbour, Dublin Bay,
  Sunday, August 5._

Safely arrived here: I now continue my account. For the first two hours
and a half the sea, though rough, was not disagreeable. We entered
_Waterford Harbour_ yesterday at twenty minutes to four o’clock. The
harbour is rocky on the right as one enters, and very flat to the left;
as one proceeds the land rises on either side. We passed a little fort
called _Duncannon Fort_, whence James II. embarked after the battle
of the _Boyne_, and from which they had not saluted for fifty years.
Further up, between two little villages, one on either side, each
with its little chapel, picturesquely situated on the top of the rock
or hill, we anchored. The little fishing place to our left is called
_Passage_, and is famous for salmon; we had an excellent specimen for
our dinner. Albert decided on going to _Waterford_, ten miles up the
river, in the “Fairy,” with the boys, but as I felt giddy and tired, I
preferred remaining quietly on board sketching. Albert returned after
seven o’clock; he had not landed.


  _Viceregal Lodge, Phœnix Park,
  Monday, August 6._

Here we are in this very pretty spot, with a lovely view of the
_Wicklow Hills_ from the window. But now to return to yesterday’s
proceedings. We got under weigh at half-past eight o’clock; for three
hours it was dreadfully rough, and I and the poor children were very
sea-sick. When we had passed the _Tuscan Rock_ in _Wexford_ the sea
became smoother, and shortly after, quite smooth, and the evening
beautiful. After we passed _Arklow Head_, the _Wicklow Hills_ came
in sight--they are beautiful. The _Sugarloaf_ and _Carrick Mountain_
have finely pointed outlines, with low hills in front and much wood.
At half-past six we came in sight of _Dublin Bay_, and were met by the
“Sphynx” and “Stromboli” (which had been sent on to wait and to come
in with us), the “Trident,” and, quite close to the harbour, by the
“Dragon,” another war-steamer. With this large squadron we steamed
slowly and majestically into the harbour of _Kingstown_, which was
covered with thousands and thousands of spectators, cheering most
enthusiastically. It is a splendid harbour, and was full of ships
of every kind. The wharf, where the landing-place was prepared, was
densely crowded, and altogether it was a noble and stirring scene. It
was just seven when we entered, and the setting sun lit up the country,
the fine buildings, and the whole scene with a glowing light, which was
truly beautiful. We were soon surrounded by boats, and the enthusiasm
and excitement of the people were extreme.

While we were at breakfast the yacht was brought close up to the wharf,
which was lined with troops. Lord and Lady Clarendon and George[58]
came on board; also Lords Lansdowne and Clanricarde, the Primate, the
Archbishop of Dublin, and many others. The address was presented by
the Sheriff and gentlemen of the county. As the clock struck ten we
disembarked, stepping on shore from the yacht, Albert leading me and
the children, and all the others following us. An immense multitude had
assembled, who cheered most enthusiastically, the ships saluting and
the bands playing, and it was really very striking. The space we had
to walk along to the railroad was covered in; and lined with ladies
and gentlemen strewing flowers. We entered the railway-carriages with
the children, the Clarendons, and the three ladies; and in a quarter
of an hour reached the Dublin station. Here we found our carriages
with the postilions in their Ascot liveries. The two eldest children
went with us, and the two younger ones with the three ladies. Sir
Edward Blakeney, Commander-in-Chief in Ireland, rode on one side of the
carriage and George on the other, followed by a brilliant staff, and
escorted by the 17th Lancers and the Carabiniers.

[58] The Duke of Cambridge.

It was a wonderful and striking scene, such masses of human beings, so
enthusiastic, so excited, yet such perfect order maintained; then the
numbers of troops, the different bands stationed at certain distances,
the waving of hats and handkerchiefs, the bursts of welcome which rent
the air,--all made it a never-to-be-forgotten scene; when one reflected
how lately the country had been in open revolt and under martial law.

_Dublin_ is a very fine city; and _Sackville Street_ and _Merrion
Square_ are remarkably large and handsome; and the _Bank_, _Trinity
College_, &c. are noble buildings. There are no gates to the town, but
temporary ones were erected under an arch; and here we stopped, and
the Mayor presented me the keys with some appropriate words. At the
last triumphal arch a poor little dove was let down into my lap, with
an olive branch round its neck, alive and very tame. The heat and dust
were tremendous. We reached _Phœnix Park_, which is very extensive, at
twelve. Lord and Lady Clarendon and all the household received us at
the door. It is a nice comfortable house, reminding us of _Claremont_,
with a pretty terrace garden in front (laid out by Lady Normanby),
and has a very extensive view of the _Park_ and the fine range of the
_Wicklow Mountains_. We are most comfortably lodged, and have very nice
rooms.


  _Tuesday, August 7._

We drove into _Dublin_--with our two ladies--in Lord Clarendon’s
carriage, the gentlemen following; and without any escort. The people
were very enthusiastic, and cheered a great deal. We went, first,
to the _Bank_, where the Directors received us, and then to the
printing-room, and from thence viewed the old Houses of Lords and
Commons, for what is now the _Bank_ was the old Parliament House. From
here we drove to the _Model-School_, where we were received by the
Archbishop of Dublin, the Roman Catholic Archbishop Murray (a fine
venerable-looking old man of eighty), and the other gentlemen connected
with the school. We saw the _Infant_, the _Girls’_, and the _Boys’
Schools_; in the latter, one class of boys was examined in mental
arithmetic and in many very difficult things, and they all answered
wonderfully. Children of all creeds are admitted, and their different
doctrines are taught separately, if the parents wish it; but the _only_
teaching enforced is that of the Gospel truths, and love and charity.
This is truly Christian and ought to be the case everywhere. About
1,000 children are educated here annually, of which 300 are trained as
schoolmasters and mistresses. From here we visited _Trinity College_,
the Irish University, which is not conducted upon so liberal a system,
but into which Roman Catholics are admitted. Dr. Todd, the secretary,
and a very learned man, well versed in the Irish language, showed us
some most interesting ancient manuscripts and relics, including St.
Columba’s Book (in which we wrote our names), and the original harp
of King O’Brian, supposed to be the one from which the Irish arms are
taken. The library is a very large handsome room, like that in _Trinity
College, Cambridge_. We then proceeded towards home, the crowd in the
streets immense, and so loyal. It rained a little at intervals. Home by
a little past one. Albert went into _Dublin_ again after luncheon, and
I wrote and read, and heard our children say some lessons.

At five we proceeded to _Kilmainham Hospital_, very near here; Lord
Clarendon going in the carriage with the ladies and myself--Albert
and the other gentlemen riding. Sir Edward Blakeney and his staff,
and George, received us. We saw the old pensioners, the chapel, and
the hall, a fine large room (where all the pensioners dine, as at
_Chelsea_), and then Sir Edward’s private apartments. We afterwards
took a drive through all the principal parts of _Dublin_,—_College
Green_, where the celebrated statue of William the III. is to be seen;
_Stephens’ Green_, by _The Four Courts_, a very handsome building;
and, though we were not expected, the crowds were in many places very
great. We returned a little before seven. A large dinner. After dinner
above two or three hundred people arrived, including most of the Irish
nobility and many of the gentry; and afterwards there was a ball.


  _Wednesday, August 8._

At twenty minutes to one o’clock we left for _Dublin_, I and all the
ladies in evening dresses, all the gentlemen in uniform. We drove
straight to the Castle. Everything here as at _St. James’s_ Levée.
The staircase and throne-room quite like a palace. I received (on
the throne) the addresses of the Lord Mayor and Corporation, the
University, the Archbishop and Bishops, both Roman Catholic and
Anglican, the Presbyterians, the non-subscribing Presbyterians, and the
Quakers. They also presented Albert with addresses.[59] Then followed a
very long Levée, which lasted without intermission till twenty minutes
to six o’clock! Two thousand people were presented!

[59] Lord Breadalbane (Lord Chamberlain) was in attendance, having
joined us on our arrival in Dublin.

  _Thursday, August 9._

There was a great and brilliant review in the _Phœnix Park_--six
thousand one hundred and sixty men, including the constabulary. In the
evening we two dined alone, and at half-past eight o’clock drove into
_Dublin_ for the Drawing-room. It is always held here of an evening. I
should think between two and three thousand people passed before us,
and one thousand six hundred ladies were presented. After it was over
we walked through _St. Patrick’s Hall_ and the other rooms, and the
crowd was very great. We came back to the _Phœnix Park_ at half-past
twelve--the streets still densely crowded. The city was illuminated.


  _Friday, August 10._

At a quarter to twelve o’clock we set out, with all our suite, for
_Carton_, the Duke of Leinster’s; Lord and Lady Clarendon in the
carriage with us. We went through _Woodlands_, a place belonging to
Mr. White, in which there are beautiful lime-trees; and we passed by
the “Preparatory College” for _Maynooth_; and not far from _Carton_
we saw a number of the Maynooth students. The park of Carton is very
fine. We arrived there at a little past one, and were received by the
Duke and Duchess of Leinster, the Kildares, Mr. and Lady C. Repton, and
their two sons. We walked out into the garden, where all the company
were assembled, and the two bands playing; it is very pretty: a sort
of formal French garden with rows of Irish yews. We walked round the
garden twice, the Duke leading me, and Albert the Duchess. The Duke is
one of the kindest and best of men.

After luncheon we walked out and saw some of the country people dance
jigs, which was very amusing. The Irish is quite different from the
Scotch reel; not so animated, and the steps different, but very droll.
The people were very poorly dressed in thick coats, and the women in
shawls. There was one man who was a regular specimen of an Irishman,
with his hat on one ear. Others in blue coats, with short breeches and
blue stockings. There were three old and tattered pipers playing. The
Irish pipe is very different from the Scotch; it is very weak, and
they don’t blow into it, but merely have small bellows which they move
with the arm. We walked round the pleasure-grounds, and after this got
into a carriage with the Duke and Duchess--our ladies and gentlemen
following in a large jaunting-car, and the people riding, running, and
driving with us, but extremely well-behaved; and the Duke is so kind to
them, that a word from him will make them do anything. It was very hot,
and yet the people kept running the whole way, and in the thick woollen
coats, which it seems they always wear here. We drove along the park
to a spot which commands an extensive view of the _Wicklow Hills_.
We then went down an entirely new road, cut out of the solid rock,
through a beautiful valley, full of the finest trees, growing among
rocks close to a piece of water. We got out and walked across a little
wooden bridge to a very pretty little cottage, entirely ornamented with
shells, &c. by the Duchess. We drove back in the jaunting-car, which is
a double one, with four wheels, and held a number of us--I sitting on
one side between Albert and the Duke; the Duchess, Lady Jocelyn, Lord
Clarendon, and Lady Waterford on the opposite side; George at the back,
and the equerries on either side of the coachman.

As soon as we returned to the house we took leave of our hosts, and
went back to the _Phœnix Park_ a different way from the one we came,
along the banks of the _Liffey_, through Mr. Colson’s park, in which
there were the most splendid beeches I have ever seen--feathering down
quite to the ground; and farther along the road and river were some
lovely sycamore-trees. We drove through the village of _Lucan_, where
there were fine decorations and arches of bays and laurel. We passed
below _The Strawberry-beds_, which are really curious to see--quite
high banks of them--and numbers of people come from _Dublin_ to eat
these strawberries; and there are rooms at the bottom of these banks on
purpose. We were home a little after five.


  _On Board the Victoria and Albert,
  in Loch Ryan, Sunday, August 12._

We arrived after a dreadfully rough though very short passage, and have
taken refuge here. To return to Friday. We left the _Phœnix Park_,
where we had spent so pleasant a time, at six o’clock, Lord Clarendon
and the two elder children going in the carriage with us, and drove
with an escort to the Dublin Railway Station. The town was immensely
crowded, and the people most enthusiastic. George met us there, and
we took him, the Clarendons, and Lord Lansdowne and our ladies in the
carriage with us. We arrived speedily at _Kingstown_, where there
were just as many people and as much enthusiasm as on the occasion of
our disembarkation. We stood on the paddle-box as we slowly steamed
out of _Kingstown_, amidst the cheers of thousands and thousands, and
salutes from all the ships; and I waved my handkerchief as a parting
acknowledgment of their loyalty. We soon passed _Howth_ and _Ireland’s
Eye_. The ship was very steady, though the sea was not smooth, and the
night thick and rainy, and we feared a storm was coming on.


  _Saturday, August 11._

We reached _Belfast Harbour_ at four o’clock. The wind had got up
amazingly, and the morning was a very bad and stormy one.

We had not had a very quiet night for sleeping, though very smooth. The
weather got worse and worse, and blew a real gale; and it was quite
doubtful whether we could start as we had intended, on our return from
_Belfast_, for _Scotland_.

We saw the Mayor and General (Bainbrigg), who had come on board after
breakfast.

At a quarter-past one we started with the ladies and gentlemen for the
“Fairy.” Though we had only two minutes’ row in the barge, there was
such a swell that the getting in and out, and the rolling and tossing
in the boat, were very disagreeable. We had to keep in the little
pavilion, as the squalls were so violent as to cover the “Fairy” with
spray. We passed between _Holywood_ and _Carrickfergus_, celebrated for
the first landing of William III. We reached _Belfast_ in half an hour,
and fortunately the sun came out.

We lay close alongside the wharf, where a very fine landing-place
was arranged, and where thousands were assembled. Lord Londonderry
came on board, and numerous deputations with addresses, including the
Mayor (whom I knighted), the Protestant Bishop of Down and clergy,
the Catholic Bishop Denvir (an excellent and modest man), the Sheriff
and Members for the county, with Lord Donegal (to whom the greater
part of _Belfast_ belongs), Dr. Henry, from the new College, and the
Presbyterians (of whom there are a great many here). Lady Londonderry
and her daughter also came on board. There was some delay in getting
the gang-board down, as they had made much too large a one. Some
planks on board were arranged, and we landed easily in this way.
The landing-place was covered in, and very tastefully decorated.
We got into Lord Londonderry’s carriage with the two ladies, and
Lord Londonderry himself got on the rumble behind with the two
sergeant-footmen, Renwick and Birbage, both very tall, large men; and
the three must have been far from comfortable.

The town was beautifully decorated with flowers, hangings, and very
fine triumphal arches, the galleries full of people; and the reception
very hearty. The people are a mixture of nations, and the female beauty
had almost disappeared.

I have all along forgotten to say that the favourite motto written
up on most of the arches, &c., and in every place, was: “Cead mile
failte,” which means “A hundred thousand welcomes” in Irish, which is
very like Gaelic; it is in fact _the_ language, and has existed in
books from the earliest period, whereas Gaelic has only been _written_
since half a century, though it was always _spoken_. They often called
out, “Cead mile failte!” and it appears in every sort of shape.

Lord Donegal rode on one side of the carriage and the General on the
other. We stopped at the _Linen Hall_ to see the exhibition of the
flax and linen manufacture. Lord Downshire and several other gentlemen
received us there, and conducted us through the different rooms, where
we saw the whole process in its different stages. First the plant,
then the flax after being steeped; then the spun flax; lastly, the
linen, cambric, and cloth of every sort and kind. It is really very
interesting to see, and it is wonderful to what a state of perfection
it has been brought.

We got into our carriages again. This time Lord Londonderry did not
attempt to resume his uncomfortable position.

We went along through the _Botanic Garden_, and stopped and got out
to look at the new College which is to be opened in October. It is
a handsome building. We passed through several of the streets and
returned to the place of embarkation. _Belfast_ is a fine town, with
some good buildings--for instance, the _Bank_ and _Exchange_,--and is
considered the _Liverpool_ and _Manchester_ of _Ireland_.

I have forgotten to mention the Constabulary, who are a remarkably fine
body of men, 13,000 in number (altogether in _Ireland_), all Irish, and
chiefly Roman Catholics; and not one of whom, during the trying times
last year, fraternised with the rebels.

We left amid immense cheering, and reached the “Victoria and Albert” at
half-past six. It was blowing as hard as ever, and the getting in and
out was as disagreeable as before. We decided on spending the night
where we were, unless the wind should drop by three or four o’clock in
the morning. Many bonfires were lighted on the surrounding hills and
coasts.


  _Sunday, August 12._

The weather no better, and as there seemed no hope of its improvement,
we decided on starting at two o’clock, and proceeding either to _Loch
Ryan_ or _Lamlash_. Lord Adolphus read the service at half-past ten, at
which the two eldest children were also present.

I intend to create Bertie “Earl of Dublin,” as a compliment to the town
and country; he has no Irish title, though he is _born_ with several
Scotch ones (belonging to the heirs to the Scotch throne, and which we
have inherited from James VI. of Scotland and I. of England); and this
was one of my father’s titles.

The preparations on deck for the voyage were not encouraging; the boats
hoisted up, the accommodation ladders drawn quite close up, every piece
of carpet removed, and everything covered; and, indeed, my worst fears
were realized. We started at two, and I went below and lay down shortly
after, and directly we got out of the harbour the yacht began rolling
for the first three-quarters of an hour, in a way which was dreadful,
and there were two rolls, when the waves broke over the ship, which I
never shall forget. It got gradually better, and at five we entered
_Loch Ryan_, truly thankful to be at the end of our voyage. Albert came
down to me and then I went up on deck, and he told me how awful it had
been. The first great wave which came over the ship threw everybody
down in every direction. Poor little Affie[60] was thrown down and sent
rolling over the deck, and was drenched, for the deck was swimming with
water. Albert told me it was quite frightful to see the enormous waves
rising like a wall above the sides of the ship. We did not anchor so
high up in _Loch Ryan_ as we had done two years ago; but it was a very
safe quiet anchorage, and we were very glad to be there. Albert went on
shore.

[60] Prince Alfred.


  _Monday, August 13._

We started at four o’clock in the morning, and the yacht rolled a
little, but the motion was an easy one. We were in the _Clyde_ by
breakfast-time, but the day was very bad, constant squalls hiding the
scenery. We left _Greenock_ to our left, and proceeded a little way
up _Loch Goil_, which opens into _Loch Long_, and is very fine; it
seems extraordinary to have such deep water in a narrow loch and so
immediately below the mountains, which are very rocky. We turned back
and went up _Loch Long_, which I remembered so well, and which is so
beautiful. We let go the anchor at _Arrochar_, the head of the lake,
intending to land and proceed to _Loch Lomond_, where a steamer was
waiting for us; but it poured with rain most hopelessly. We waited an
hour in vain, and decided on stopping till after luncheon and making
the attempt at three o’clock. We lunched and stepped into the boat,
as it had cleared a little; but just then it began pouring again more
violently than before, and we put back much disappointed, but Albert
persevered, and he went off with Mr. Anson, Sir James Clark, and
Captain Robinson almost directly afterwards. Just then it cleared and I
felt so vexed that we had not gone; but there have been some terrible
showers since. We left _Arrochar_ a little before four, _Loch Long_
looking beautiful as we returned.


  _Perth, Tuesday, August 14._

We anchored yesterday in _Roseneath Bay_, close to _Roseneath_--a very
pretty spot--and looking towards the mountains which you see in _Loch
Goil_. One of them is called “The Duke of Argyll’s Bowling-green.”
Albert only returned soon after eight o’clock, having been able to see
a good deal of _Loch Lomond_, and even _Rob Roy’s Cave_, in spite of
heavy showers. Captain Beechey (who was with us during the whole voyage
in ’47, and again the whole of this one to pilot us), Captain Crispin,
and Captain Robinson (who met us this morning and piloted Albert in
_Loch Lomond_, and did the same for us in ’47), dined with us also, and
we had much interesting conversation about the formation of glaciers,
&c., in all of which Captain Beechey (who is a very intelligent man,
and has been all over the world) took part. He was with Sir Edward
Parry at the _North Pole_, and told us that they had not seen daylight
for four months. They heaped up snow over the ship and covered it in
with boards to keep the cold off.


  _Balmoral, Wednesday, August 15._

It seems like a dream to be here in our dear Highland home again; it
certainly does not seem as if it were a year since we were here! Now I
must describe the doings of yesterday. We embarked on board the “Fairy”
at a quarter to nine o’clock, and proceeded up the _Clyde_ in pouring
rain and high wind, and it was very stormy till after we had passed
_Greenock_. We steamed past _Port Glasgow_, then came _Dumbarton_
and _Erskine_. The river narrows and winds extraordinarily here, and
you do not see _Glasgow_ until you are quite close upon it. As we
approached, the banks were lined with people, either on estrades or on
the sea-shore, and it was amusing to see all those on the shore take
flight, often too late, as the water bounded up from the swell caused
by the steamer.

The weather, which had been dreadful, cleared up, just as we reached
_Glasgow_, about eleven, and continued fine for the remainder of the
day. Several addresses were presented on board, first by the Lord
Provost, who was knighted, (Colonel Gordon’s sword being used,) then
one from the county, the clergy (Established Church and Free Kirk),
and from the Houses of Commerce. We landed immediately after this;
the landing-place was very handsomely decorated. We then entered our
carriage with the two eldest children, the two others following. Mr.
Alison (the celebrated historian, who is the Sheriff) rode on one side
of the carriage, and General Riddell (the Commander of the Forces in
Scotland) on the other. The crowds assembled were quite enormous, but
excellent order was kept and they were very enthusiastic. Mr. Alison
said that there were 500,000 people out. The town is a handsome one
with fine streets built in stone, and many fine buildings and churches.
We passed over a bridge commanding an extensive view down two quays,
which Albert said was very like _Paris_. There are many large shops and
warehouses, and the shipping is immense.

We went up to the old cathedral, where Principal Mac Farlane, a very
old man, received us, and directed our attention, as we walked through
the church gates, to an immensely high chimney, the highest I believe
in existence, which belongs to one of the manufactories. The cathedral
is a very fine one, the choir of which is fitted up as a Presbyterian
church. We were shown the crypt and former burial-place of the bishops,
which is in a very high state of preservation. The architecture is
beautiful. It is in this crypt that the famous scene in _Rob Roy_ is
laid, where Rob Roy gives Frank Osbaldistone warning that he is in
danger. There is an old monument of St. Kentigern, commonly called St.
Mungo, the founder of the cathedral. We re-entered our carriages and
went to the _University_, an ancient building, and which has produced
many great and learned men. Here we got out and received an address.
We only stopped a few minutes, and then went on again towards the
_Exchange_, in front of which is Marochetti’s equestrian statue of the
Duke of Wellington, very like and beautifully executed. We got out at
the railway station and started almost immediately.

We passed _Stirling_ in the distance, and a little before four we
reached _Perth_, where the people were very friendly. We took the four
children in our carriage and drove straight to the “George Inn,” where
we had the same rooms that we had last time.

Albert went out immediately to see the prison, and at six we drove
together along the _London Road_ (as they rather strangely call it),
towards _Moncrieffe_. The view was perfectly beautiful, and is the
finest of _Perth_ and the grand bridge over the _Tay_.


  _Wednesday, August 15._

At a quarter to eight o’clock we started. The two boys and Vicky were
in the carriage with us, Alice followed with the ladies. It was a long
journey, but through very beautiful scenery. We saw the _Grampians_ as
we left _Perth_. We first changed horses at _Blairgowrie_, 15 miles.
Then came a very long stage of 20 miles, to the _Spittal of Glenshee_.
We first passed the house of a Lieut.-Colonel Clark Rattray, called
_Craig Hall_, overhanging a valley or glen above which we drove,
and after this we came into completely wild Highland scenery, with
barren rocky hills, through which the road winds to the _Spittal of
Glenshee_, which can scarcely be called a village, for it consists of
only an inn and two or three cottages. We got out at the inn, where
we found Mr. Farquharson and his son, and some of his men. Here we
had some luncheon, and then set off again. The next stage of 15 miles
to _Castleton_ is over a very bad, and at night, positively dangerous
road, through wild, grand scenery, with very abrupt turns and steep
ascents. One sharp turn is called _The Devil’s Elbow_. The Farquharson
men joined us again here, some having gone on before, and others having
followed from the inn, skipping over stones and rocks with the rapidity
and lightness peculiar to Highlanders. They remained with us till we
were able to trot on again.

We drove through a very fine pass called _Cairn Wall_ and were
overtaken by a heavy shower. When we reached _Castleton_ the day had
cleared, and we were able to open the carriage again. Here we were
met by Sir Alexander Duff and the Duke of Leeds at the head of their
men. Lady Duff, Mr. and Lady Agnes Duff, Miss Farquharson, and several
of the children, and the Duchess of Leeds, came up to the carriage.
The drive from _Castleton_ to _Balmoral_, particularly the beautiful
part from the _Balloch Buie_, was well known to us; and it was a great
pleasure to see it all again in its beauty. Grant had met us at the
_Spittal of Glenshee_, and ridden the whole way with us. At the door at
_Balmoral_ were Mackay, who was playing, and Macdonald in full dress.
It was about four when we arrived.




YACHTING EXCURSION.


  _On Board the Victoria and Albert,
  Dartmouth, Thursday, August 20, 1846._

We steamed past the various places on the beautiful coast of
_Devonshire_ which we had passed three years ago--_Seaton_, _Sidmouth_,
off which we stopped for ten minutes, _Axmouth_, _Teignmouth_,
&c.;--till we came to _Babbicombe_, a small bay, where we remained
an hour. It is a beautiful spot, which before we had only passed at
a distance. Red cliffs and rocks with wooded hills like _Italy_, and
reminding one of a ballet or play where nymphs are to appear--such
rocks and grottos, with the deepest sea, on which there was not a
ripple. We intended to disembark and walk up the hill; but it came on
to rain very much, and we could not do so. We tried to sketch the part
looking towards _Torbay_. I never saw our good children looking better,
or in higher spirits. I contrived to give Vicky a little lesson, by
making her read in her English history.

We proceeded on our course again at half-past one o’clock, and saw
_Torquay_ very plainly, which is very fine. The sea looked so stormy
and the weather became so thick that it was thought best to give
up _Plymouth_ (for the third time), and to put into that beautiful
_Dartmouth_, and we accordingly did so, in pouring rain, the deck
swimming with water, and all of us with umbrellas; the children being
most anxious to see everything. Notwithstanding the rain, this place is
lovely, with its wooded rocks and church and castle at the entrance.
It puts me much in mind of the beautiful _Rhine_, and its fine ruined
castles, and the _Lurlei_.

I am now below writing, and crowds of boats are surrounding us on all
sides.


  _Plymouth Harbour, Friday, August 21._

We got under weigh by half-past six o’clock, and on looking out we
saw the sea so calm and blue and the sun so bright that we determined
to get up. It was a very fine day, but there was a great deal of
swell. At length at half-past nine we entered the splendid harbour of
_Plymouth_, and anchored again below _Mount Edgcumbe_; which, with its
beautiful trees, including pines, growing down into the sea, looks more
lovely than ever. I changed my dress and read innumerable letters and
despatches, and then went on deck and saw the authorities--the Admirals
and Generals. I did Vicky’s lessons and wrote; and at half-past one we
went on board the “Fairy,” (leaving the children on board the “Victoria
and Albert,”) with all our ladies and gentlemen, as well as Sir James
Clark, who has joined us here. We steamed up the _Tamar_, going first
a little way up the _St. Germans_ river, which has very prettily
wooded banks. _Trematon Castle_ to the right, which belongs to Bertie
as Duke of Cornwall, and _Jats_ to the left, are extremely pretty.
We stopped here and afterwards turned back and went up the _Tamar_,
which at first seemed flat; but as we proceeded the scenery became
quite beautiful--richly wooded hills, the trees growing down into the
water, and the river winding so much as to have the effect of a lake.
In this it reminded me so much of going up the _Rhine_,--though I
don’t think the river resembles the _Rhine_. Albert thought it like
the _Danube_. The finest parts begin about _Saltash_, which is a small
but prettily built town. To the right as you go up all is un-English
looking; a little further on is the mouth of the _Tavy_; here the
river becomes very beautiful. We passed numbers of mines at work.
Further on, to the left, we came to _Pentillie Castle_ situated on a
height most beautifully wooded down to the water’s edge, and the river
winding rapidly above and below it. Albert said it reminded him of the
situation of _Greinburg_ on the _Danube_. Not much further on we came
to the picturesque little village and landing-place of _Cothele_, at
the foot of a thickly-wooded bank, with a valley on one side. Here
the river is very narrow. We landed, and drove up a steep hill under
fine trees to the very curious old _House of Cothele_, where we got
out of the carriage. It is most curious in every way--as it stands in
the same state as it was in the time of Henry VII. and is in great
preservation--the old rooms hung with arras, &c.

We drove down another way under beautiful trees and above the fine
valley; embarked and proceeded down the river. The evening was
beautiful, the sun bright, and the sky and sea so blue. We arrived
just too late for the launch of the frigate “Thetis.” It reminded
me so much of when we were here three years ago, as we approached
our yacht, surrounded by myriads of boats, and had to row through
them in our barge. We returned at half-past five. The evening was
delightful--clear, calm, and cloudless, but a good deal of noise in the
boats around us. Lord and Lady Mount Edgcumbe and Sir James Clark dined
with us.


  _Plymouth, Saturday, August 22._

Albert was up at six o’clock, as he was to go to _Dartmoor Forest_.
At ten I went in the barge with the two children, the ladies, Baron
Stockmar, and Lord Alfred Paget, and landed at _Mount Edgcumbe_, where
we were received by Lady Mount Edgcumbe, her two boys, her sister and
nieces, and beyond the landing-place by Lord Mount Edgcumbe. There were
crowds where we landed, and I feel so shy and put out without Albert.
I got into a carriage with the children and Lady Mount Edgcumbe--Lord
Mount Edgcumbe going before us and the others following--and took a
lovely drive along the road which overhangs the bay, commanding such
beautiful views on all sides, and going under and by such fine trees.
We had been there three years ago; but it is always a pleasure to see
it again. The day very hot and a little hazy. We came to the house at
eleven. The children went with their governess and the other children
into the shade and had luncheon in the house, and I remained in the
gallery--a very pretty room, with some fine pictures, and with a door
opening on the garden, and commanding a lovely little bit of sea view,
which I tried to sketch. A little after twelve we returned to the
yacht, which had been beset with boats ever since six in the morning.
Albert returned safely to me at one o’clock, much pleased with his
trip; and said that _Dartmoor Forest_ was like _Scotland_.

At two we went with our ladies and gentlemen, and without the children,
again to the landing-place at _Mount Edgcumbe_, where we were received
as before, and drove up to the house. There are some of the finest and
tallest chestnut-trees in existence here, and the beech-trees grow very
peculiarly--quite tall and straight--the branches growing upwards.
We walked about the gallery and looked into Lady Mount Edgcumbe’s
little room at one end of it, which is charming, and full of pretty
little things which she has collected, and then we took luncheon in
a room where there are some fine portraits by Sir Joshua Reynolds.
They are all of the Mount Edgcumbe family, one of whom was his great
patron. Sir Joshua was born a few miles from _Plymouth_. There are in
the same room pictures by him when he first began to paint, which have
kept their colour; then when he made experiments--and these are quite
faded; and again of his works when he discovered his mistakes, and the
colour of his pictures is then beautiful. We walked about the garden
near the house, and then drove to the “Kiosk,” by beautiful stone pines
and pinasters, which interested Albert very much, and put me so much
in mind of Mr. Lear’s drawings. The view from this “Kiosk,” which is
very high over the sea and town, is most beautiful, and the sea was
like glass, not a ripple to be seen. We walked down a very pretty road
or path through the woods and trees till we met the carriage, and we
drove along that beautiful road, which is said to be a little like
the _Cornice_, overhanging the sea, down to the place of embarkation,
where we took leave of them all, and returned to our yacht by half-past
four. Poor Lord Mount Edgcumbe is in such a sad, helpless state; but so
patient and cheerful. We went on board just to fetch the children, and
then on to the “Fairy,” and steamed in her round the harbour, or rather
bay, in which there are such pretty spots; into the _Cat Water_, from
whence we rowed in one of the barges a little way up the river to look
at _Saltram_, Lord Morley’s; after that back to the “Fairy,” went in
her into _Mill Bay_, _Sutton Pool_, and _Stonehouse_, and returned to
the yacht by half-past six.


  _In Guernsey Bay, off St. Pierre, Guernsey,
  Sunday, August 23._

On waking, the morning was so lovely that we could not help regretting
that we could not delay our trip a little, by one day at least, as
the Council which was to have been on the 25th is now on the 29th.
We thought, however, we could do nothing but sail for _Torbay_, at
half-past nine, and for _Osborne_ on Monday. While dressing, I kept
thinking whether we could not manage to see _Falmouth_, or something
or other. Albert thought we might perhaps manage to see one of
the _Channel Islands_, and accordingly he sent for Lord Adolphus
Fitzclarence, and it was settled that we should go to _Guernsey_, which
delighted me, as I had so long wished to see it. The day splendid. The
General and Admiral came on board to take leave. Sir J. West is the
Admiral, and General Murray, the General; and at about half-past nine
we set off, and the sea the whole way was as calm as it was in ’43.
_Plymouth_ is beautiful, and we shall always be delighted to return
there.

For two hours we were in expectation of seeing land; but it was very
hazy, and they did not know where we were--till about six, when land
was seen by the “Fairy,” who came to report it, and then all the other
vessels went on before us. As we approached we were struck by the
beauty of the _Guernsey_ coast, in which there are several rocky bays,
and the town of _St. Pierre_ is very picturesquely built, down to the
water’s edge. You see _Sark_ (or _Sercq_) as you enter the harbour to
the right, and further on, close opposite _St. Pierre_, two islands
close together--_Herm_ and _Jethou_. The bay with these fine islands is
really most curious. We anchored at seven, immediately opposite _St.
Pierre_, and with the two islands on the other side of us. We dined at
eight, and found on going on deck the whole town illuminated, which
had a very pretty effect, and must have been done very quickly, for
they had no idea of our coming. It is built like a foreign town. The
people speak mostly French amongst themselves.


  _August 24._

_St. Pierre_ is very picturesque-looking--with very high,
bright-coloured houses built down almost into the sea. The College
and Church are very conspicuous buildings. This island with its bold
point, and the little one of _Cornet_ with a sort of castle on it
(close to which we were anchored), and the three islands of _Herm_,
_Jethou_, and _Sark_, with innumerable rocks, are really very fine
and peculiar,--especially as they then were in bright sunlight. We
both sketched, and at a quarter to nine got into our barge with our
ladies. The pier and shore were lined with crowds of people, and with
ladies dressed in white, singing “God save the Queen,” and strewing the
ground with flowers. We walked to our carriage, preceded by General
Napier, brother to Sir Charles (in _Scinde_), a very singular-looking
old man, tall and thin, with an aquiline nose, piercing eyes, and
white moustaches and hair. The people were extremely well-behaved and
friendly, and received us very warmly as we drove through the narrow
streets, which were decorated with flowers and flags, and lined with
the _Guernsey_ militia, 2,000 strong, with their several bands. Some of
the militia were mounted.

The vegetation beyond the town is exceedingly fine; and the evergreens
and flowers most abundant. The streets and hills steep, and the view
from the fort, which is very high, (and where General Napier presented
me with the keys,) is extremely beautiful. You look over the bay of
_Guernsey_, and see opposite to you the islands of _Herm_, _Jethou_,
and _Sark_; with _Alderney_, and the coast of _France_, _Cape de la
Hague_, to the left in the distance, and to the right in the distance,
_Jersey_. The island appears very flourishing. In the town they speak
English, but in the country French, and this is the same in all the
islands. They belonged to the Duchy of Normandy, and have been in our
possession ever since William the Conqueror’s time. King John[61] was
the last of their sovereigns who visited them. We drove along the pier,
and then embarked amidst great cheering. It was all admirably managed;
the people are extremely loyal.

[61] For King John’s visit, see Roger de Wendover, a contemporary
chronicler.--ED.

We got under weigh a little before one and in about an hour-and-a-half
we came close to _Alderney_, seeing all the time the French coast,
_Cape de la Hague_, very plainly to our right, and leaving the
_Casquets Lights_ to our left. _Alderney_ is quite different from all
the other islands, excessively rocky and barren, and the rocks in and
under the sea are most frightful.




SECOND YACHTING EXCURSION.


  _On Board the Victoria and Albert,
  Off St. Heliers, Jersey,
  Wednesday, September 2, 1846._

At a quarter-past seven o’clock we set off with Vicky, Bertie, Lady
Jocelyn, Miss Kerr, Mdlle. Gruner, Lord Spencer, Lord Palmerston,
and Sir James Clark (Mr. Anson and Colonel Grey being on board the
“Black Eagle”), and embarked at _Osborne Pier_. There was a good
deal of swell. It was fine, but very cold at first. At twelve we saw
_Alderney_, and between two and three got into the _Alderney Race_,
where there was a great deal of rolling, but not for long. We passed
between _Alderney_ and the French coast--_Cape de la Hague_--and saw
the other side of _Alderney_; and then, later, _Sark_, _Guernsey_,
and the other islands. After passing the _Alderney Race_, it became
quite smooth; and then Bertie put on his sailor’s dress, which was
beautifully made by the man on board who makes for our sailors. When he
appeared, the officers and sailors, who were all assembled on deck to
see him, cheered, and seemed delighted with him.

The coast of _Jersey_ is very beautiful, and we had to go nearly all
round, in order to get to _St. Heliers_. We first passed the point
called _Rondnez_, then _Grosnez_ with a tower, _St. Ouen’s Bay_, _La
Rocca_, a curious old tower on a rock, and then _Brelade’s Bay_. The
red cliffs and rocks, with the setting sun gilding and lighting them
all up, were beautiful. At last, at a quarter to seven, we arrived in
this fine large bay of _St. Aubin_, in which lies _St. Heliers_; and
after dinner we went on deck to see the illumination and the bonfires.


  _Off St. Heliers,
  Thursday, September 3._

A splendid day. I never saw a more beautiful deep blue sea, quite like
_Naples_; and Albert said that this fine bay of _St. Aubin_, in which
we lie, really is like the _Bay of Naples_. _Noirmont Point_ terminates
in a low tower to our left, with _St. Aubin_ and a tower on a rock
in front of it; farther in, and to our right, _Elizabeth Castle_, a
picturesque fort on a rock, with the town of _St. Heliers_ behind it.

The colouring and the effect of light were indescribably beautiful.
We got into our barge with our ladies and gentlemen, and then went on
board the “Fairy,” until we were close to the harbour, and then we
got into the barge again. We landed at the stairs of the _Victoria
Harbour_, amid the cheers of the numberless crowds, guns firing, and
bands playing; were received, as at _Guernsey_, by all the ladies
of the town, very gaily dressed, who, strewing flowers on our way,
conducted us to a canopy, where I received the address of the States
and of the militia.

We then got into our carriage and drove along the pier; Colonel Le
Couteur, my militia aide-de-camp, riding by my side, with other
officers, and by Albert’s side Colonel Le Breton, commanding the
militia, who, 5,000 strong, lined the streets, and were stationed
along the pier. The States walking in front. The crowds were immense,
but everything in excellent order, and the people most enthusiastic,
though not more so than the good _Guernsey_ people; the town is much
larger, and they had much longer time for preparations; the decorations
and arches of flowers were really beautifully done, and there were
numberless kind inscriptions. All the country people here speak French,
and so did the police who walked near us. It was a very gratifying
reception. There was a seat in one of the streets filled by Frenchwomen
from _Granville_, curiously dressed with white handkerchiefs on their
heads. After passing through several streets we drove up to the
_Government House_, but did not get out. General Gibbs, the Governor,
is very infirm.

We then proceeded at a quicker pace--the walking procession having
ceased--through the interior of the island, which is extremely pretty
and very green,--orchards without end, as at _Mayence_. We passed the
curious old tower of _La Hougue Bie_, of very ancient date, and went
to the _Castle of Mont Orgueil_, in _Grouville Bay_, very beautifully
situated, completely overhanging the sea, and where Robert, Duke of
Normandy, son of William the Conqueror, is said to have lived.[62]
We walked part of the way up, and from one of the batteries, where
no guns are now mounted, you command the bay, and the French coast
is distinctly seen, only 13 miles distant. The people are very proud
that _Mont Orgueil_ had never been taken; but I have since learnt it
was taken by surprise and held for a few days; _Guernsey_, however,
_never_ was taken.[63]

[62] Mont Orgueil was also called Gouray Castle. Duke Robert the
Second, the Conqueror’s son, lived at Gouray Castle in Normandy: Duke
Robert the First, commonly called “Robert le Diable,” was in Jersey for
twelve days; and, during that time, probably occupied Gouray Castle in
that island. Hence may have arisen the tradition of Robert the Second
having lived there, of which there is no evidence.--ED.

[63] The public Records certainly state that Guernsey was taken by the
French in 1339. But the same records show that it was again in the
possession of the English as early as January 1340. The tradition,
therefore, “that Guernsey never was taken,” may be true, as the
occupation by the French might only have been partial--viz., of Castle
Cornet and the vicinity; and this might have been magnified, by report
in England, into a conquest of the whole island. Popular traditions,
contradicted at first by documentary evidence, are often eventually
found to be true. Everything depends upon the meaning of the words
“taken” and “conquered.” It could hardly have been said that England
had been “conquered” by the Normans, while the gallant Hereward held
out in the Isle of Ely.--ED.

We then returned to our carriage, and proceeded to the pier by a
shorter road, and through a different part of the town. There is a
peculiar elm-tree in the island, which is very pretty, and unlike any
other,--the leaf and the way it grows almost resembling the acacia. The
crowd was very great and the heat very intense in going back.

We re-embarked in the barge, but had only to go a few yards to the
“Fairy.” The situation of the harbour is very fine,--and crowned with
the fort, and covered by numbers of people, was like an amphitheatre.
The heat of the sun, and the glare, had made me so ill and giddy that I
remained below the greater part of the afternoon, and Albert went out
for an hour on the “Fairy.”


  _Falmouth Harbour, Friday, September 4._

A beautiful day again, with the same brilliantly blue sea. At a quarter
to eight o’clock we got under weigh. There was a great deal of motion
at first, and for the greater part of the day the ship pitched, but
getting up the sails steadied her. From five o’clock it became quite
smooth; at half-past five we saw land, and at seven we entered
_Falmouth Harbour_, where we were immediately surrounded by boats. The
evening was beautiful and the sea as smooth as glass, and without even
a ripple. The calmest night possible, with a beautiful moon, when we
went on deck; every now and then the splashing of oars and the hum of
voices were heard; but they were the only sounds, unlike the constant
dashing of the sea against the vessel, which we heard all the time we
were at _Jersey_.


  _Mount’s Bay, Cornwall, Saturday, September 5._

At eight o’clock we left _Falmouth_ and proceeded along the coast of
_Cornwall_, which becomes bold and rugged beyond the _Lizard Point_ and
as one approaches _Land’s End_. At about twelve we passed _Land’s End_,
which is very fine and rocky, the view from thence opening beautifully.
We passed quite close by the _Longships_, some rocks on which stands a
lighthouse. The sea was unusually smooth for the _Land’s End_. We went
beyond a point with some rocks near it, called _The Brisons_, and then
steamed back; the famous Botallack mine lies here. A little before two
we landed in this beautiful _Mount’s Bay_, close below _St. Michael’s
Mount_, which is very fine. When the bay first opened to our view the
sun was lighting up this beautiful castle, so peculiarly built on a
lofty rock, and which forms an island at high water.

[Illustration]

In entering the bay we passed the small village of _Mousehole_ and the
town of _Penzance_, which is prettily situated, about one mile and a
half from _St. Michael’s Mount_. The day brightened just as we arrived,
and the sea again became so blue.

Soon after our arrival we anchored; the crowd of boats was beyond
everything; numbers of Cornish pilchard fishermen, in their curious
large boats, kept going round and round, and then anchored, besides
many other boats full of people. They are a very noisy, talkative race,
and speak a kind of English hardly to be understood.

During our voyage I was able to give Vicky her lessons. At three
o’clock we all got into the barge, including the children and Mdlle.
Gruner, their governess, and rowed through an avenue of boats of all
descriptions to the “Fairy,” where we went on board. The getting in
and out of the barge was no easy task. There was a good deal of swell,
and the “Fairy” herself rolled amazingly. We steamed round the bay
to look at _St. Michael’s Mount_ from the other side, which is even
more beautiful, and then went on to _Penzance_. Albert landed near
_Penzance_ with all the gentlemen, except Lord Spencer (who is most
agreeable, efficient, and useful at sea, being a Captain of the Navy)
and Colonel Grey, and went to see the smelting of copper and tin,
and the works in serpentine stone at _Penzance_. We remained here
a little while without going on, in order to sketch, and returned
to the “Victoria and Albert” by half-past four, the boats crowding
round us in all directions; and when Bertie showed himself the people
shouted:—“Three cheers for the Duke of Cornwall!” Albert returned a
little before seven, much gratified by what he had seen, and bringing
home specimens of the serpentine stone.


  _Mount’s Bay, Sunday, September 6._

A hazy, dull-looking morning, but as calm as it possibly could be.
At half-past eight o’clock we got into our barge, with Miss Kerr and
Lord Spencer, and proceeded without any standard to the little harbour
below _St. Michael’s Mount_. Behind _St. Michael’s Mount_ is the little
town of _Marazion_, or “Market Jew,” which is supposed to have taken
its name from the Jews having in former times trafficked there. We
disembarked and walked up the _Mount_ by a circuitous rugged path over
rocks and turf, and entered the old castle, which is beautifully kept,
and must be a nice house to live in; as there are so many good rooms
in it. The dining-room, made out of the refectory, is very pretty; it
is surrounded by a frieze, representing ancient hunting. The chapel is
excessively curious. The organ is much famed; Albert played a little on
it, and it sounded very fine. Below the chapel is a dungeon, where some
years ago was discovered the skeleton of a large man without a coffin;
the entrance is in the floor of one of the pews. Albert went down
with Lord Spencer, and afterwards went with him and Sir James Clark
(who, with Lord Palmerston and Colonel Grey, had joined us,) up to the
tower, on the top of which is “St. Michael’s chair,” which, it is said,
betrothed couples run up to, and whoever gets first into the chair will
have at home the government of the house; and the old housekeeper--a
nice tidy old woman--said many a couple “does go there!” though Albert
and Lord Spencer said it was the awkwardest place possible to get at.
_St. Michael’s Mount_ belongs to Sir J. St. Aubyn. There were several
drawings there of _Mont St. Michel_ in _Normandy_, which is very like
this one; and was, I believe, inhabited by the same order of monks as
this was, _i.e._ Benedictines. We walked down again, had to step over
another boat in order to get into our barge, as the tide was so very
low, and returned on board the yacht before ten.

The view from the top of _St. Michael’s_ is very beautiful and very
extensive, but unfortunately it was too thick and hazy to see it well.
A low ridge of sand separates _St. Michael’s Mount_ from _Marazion_ at
low water, and the sea at high water. From the sand to the summit of
the castle is about 250 feet. The chapel was originally erected, they
say, for the use of pilgrims who came here; and it owes its name to a
tradition of St. Michael the Archangel having rested on the rock.

At half-past eleven Lord Spencer read on deck the short morning service
generally read at sea, which only lasted twenty or twenty-five minutes.
The awning was put up, and flags on the sides; and all the officers
and sailors were there, as well as ourselves. A flag was hoisted, as
is usual when the service is performed on board ship, and Lord Spencer
read extremely well.

Albert made a most beautiful little sketch of _St. Michael’s Mount_.
Soon after two we left _Mount’s Bay_. About four we came opposite to
some very curious serpentine rocks, between _Mount’s Bay_ and _Lizard
Point_, and we stopped, that Albert might land. The gentlemen went with
him. Lord Spencer soon returned, saying that Albert was very anxious
I should see the beautiful little cave in these serpentine rocks; and
accordingly I got into the barge, with the children, and ladies, and
Lord Spencer, and we rowed to these rocks, with their caves and little
creeks. There were many cormorants and sea-gulls on the rocks. We
returned again, and were soon joined by Albert, who brought many fine
specimens which he had picked up. The stone is really beautifully
marked with red and green veins.

We proceeded on our course, and reached _Falmouth_ before seven. The
fine afternoon was changed to a foggy, dull, cold evening. We have had
on board with us, since we left _Falmouth_, Mr. Taylor, mineral agent
to the Duchy of Cornwall, a very intelligent young man, married to a
niece of Sir Charles Lemon’s.


  _Falmouth, Monday, September 7._

Immediately after breakfast, Albert left me to land and visit some
mines. The corporation of _Penryn_ were on board, and very anxious to
see “The Duke of Cornwall,” so I stepped out of the pavilion on deck
with Bertie, and Lord Palmerston told them that that was “The Duke of
Cornwall;” and the old mayor of _Penryn_ said that “he hoped he would
grow up a blessing to his parents and to his country.”

A little before four o’clock, we all got into the barge, with the two
children, and rowed to the “Fairy.” We rowed through a literal _lane_
of boats, full of people, who had surrounded the yacht ever since early
in the morning, and proceeded up the river by _St. Just’s Pool_, to the
left of which lies Sir C. Lemon’s place, and _Trefusis_ belonging to
Lord Clinton. We went up the _Truro_, which is beautiful,--something
like the _Tamar_, but almost finer, though not so bold as _Pentillie
Castle_ and _Cothele_,--winding between banks entirely wooded with
stunted oak, and full of numberless creeks. The prettiest are _King
Harry’s Ferry_ and a spot near _Tregothnan_ (Lord Falmouth’s), where
there is a beautiful little boat-house, quite in the woods, and on the
river, at the point where the _Tregony_ separates from the _Truro_.
Albert said the position of this boat-house put him in mind of Tell’s
Chapel in _Switzerland_. We went a little way up the _Tregony_, which
is most beautiful, with high sloping banks, thickly wooded down to the
water’s edge. Then we turned back and went up the _Truro_ to _Malpas_,
another bend of the river, from whence one can see _Truro_, the capital
of _Cornwall_. We stopped here awhile, as so many boats came out from a
little place called _Sunny Corner_, just below _Truro_, in order to see
us; indeed the whole population poured out on foot and in carts, &c.
along the banks; and cheered, and were enchanted when Bertie was held
up for them to see. It was a very pretty, gratifying sight.

We went straight on to _Swan Pool_ outside _Pendennis Castle_, where we
got into the barge, and rowed near to the shore to see a net drawn. Mr.
Fox, a Quaker, who lives at _Falmouth_, and has sent us flowers, fruit,
and many other things, proposed to put in his net and draw, that we
might see all sorts of fish caught, but when it was drawn there was not
one fish! So we went back to the “Fairy.” The water near the shore in
_Swan Pool_ is so wonderfully clear that one could count the pebbles.


  _Tuesday, September 8._

A wet morning when we rose and breakfasted with the children. At about
ten o’clock we entered _Fowey_, which is situated in a creek much like
_Dartmouth_, only not so beautiful, but still very pretty. We got
into the barge (leaving the children on board, and also Lord Spencer,
who was not quite well), and landed at _Fowey_ with our ladies and
gentlemen, and Mr. Taylor, whom we had brought with us from _Falmouth_.
We got into our carriage with the ladies, the gentlemen following in
others, and drove through some of the narrowest streets I ever saw in
_England_, and up perpendicular hills in the streets--it really quite
alarmed one; but we got up and through them quite safely. We then drove
on for a long way, on bad and narrow roads, higher and higher up,
commanding a fine and very extensive view of the very hilly country of
_Cornwall_, its hills covered with fields, and intersected by hedges.
At last we came to one field where there was no road whatever, but we
went down the hill quite safely, and got out of the carriage at the top
of another hill, where, surrounded by woods, stands a circular ruin,
covered with ivy, of the old castle of _Restormel_, belonging to the
Duchy of Cornwall, and in which the last Earl of Cornwall lived in the
thirteenth century. It was very picturesque from this point.

We visited here the Restormel mine, belonging also to the Duchy of
Cornwall. It is an iron mine, and you go in on a level. Albert and I
got into one of the trucks and were dragged in by miners, Mr. Taylor
walking behind us. The miners wear a curious woollen dress, with a
cap like this: [Illustration] and the dress thus: [Illustration] and
they generally have a candle stuck in front of the cap. This time
candlesticks were stuck along the sides of the mine, and those who did
not drag or push the truck carried lights. Albert and the gentlemen
wore miners’ hats. There was no room for any one to pass between the
trucks and the rock, and only just room enough to hold up one’s head,
and not always that. It had a most curious effect, and there was
something unearthly about this lit-up cavern-like place. We got out and
scrambled a little way to see the veins of ore, and Albert knocked off
some pieces; but in general it is blown by gunpowder, being so hard.
The miners seemed so pleased at seeing us, and are intelligent, good
people. It was quite dazzling when we came into daylight again.

We then got into our carriage and passed through the small town of
_Lostwithiel_, where an address was presented to us, and then we passed
through Mr. Agar Robarts’ Park, which reminded one of _Cothele_. We
returned by the same road till near _Fowey_, when we went through some
of the narrowest lanes I almost ever drove through, and so fearfully
stony. We drove along high above the river to _Place_, belonging to
Mr. Treffry, which has been restored according to drawings in his
possession, representing the house as it was in former times. A lady of
that name defended the house against the French during the absence of
her husband, in the fourteenth or fifteenth century. The old gentleman
showed us all over the house, and into an unfinished hall, lined with
marble and porphyry, all of which came from _Cornwall_. We then walked
down to the place of embarkation and proceeded at once to the yacht.
Mr. Taylor deserved the greatest credit for all the arrangements. He
and his father are what are called “Adventurers” of the mine.


  _Osborne, Wednesday, September 9._

We got up about seven o’clock and found we had just passed _The
Needles_.




VISIT TO THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY.


  _Tuesday, August 27, 1861._

At eleven o’clock we all started in our own sociable, and another of
our carriages, and on ponies, for _Ross Castle_, the old ruin which
was a celebrated stronghold, and from which the Kenmare family take
their name. Here there was an immense crowd and a great many boats.
We got into a very handsome barge of eight oars--beautifully rowed.
Lord Castlerosse steering. The four children, and Lady Churchill, Lady
Castlerosse, and Lord Granville were with us.

We rowed first round _Innisfallen Island_ and some way up the _Lower
Lake_. The view was magnificent. We had a slight shower, which alarmed
us all, from the mist which overhung the mountains; but it suddenly
cleared away and became very fine and very hot. At a quarter to one
we landed at the foot of the beautiful hill of _Glena_, where on a
small sloping lawn there is a very pretty little cottage. We walked
about, though it was overpoweringly hot, to see some of the splendid
views. The trees are beautiful,--oak, birch, arbutus, holly, yew,--all
growing down to the water’s edge, intermixed with heather. The hills,
rising abruptly from the lake, are completely wooded, which gives
them a different character from those in _Scotland_, though they
often reminded me of the dear _Highlands_. We returned to the little
cottage, where the quantity of midges and the smell of peat made us
think of _Alt-na-Giuthasach_. Upstairs, from Lady Castlerosse’s little
room, the view was towards a part of the _Lower Lake_, the outline of
which is rather low. We lunched, and afterwards re-embarked, and then
took that most beautiful row up the rapid, under the _Old Weir Bridge_,
through the channel which connects the two lakes, and which is very
intricate and narrow. Close to our right as we were going, we stopped
under the splendid hill of the _Eagle’s Nest_ to hear the _echo_ of
a bugle; the sound of which, though blown near by, was not heard. We
had to get out near the _Weir Bridge_ to let the empty boats be pulled
up by the men. The sun had come out and lit up the really magnificent
scenery splendidly; but it was most oppressively hot. We wound along
till we entered the _Upper Lake_, which opened upon us with all its
high hills--the highest, _The Reeks_, 3,400 feet high--and its islands
and points covered with splendid trees;--such arbutus (quite large
trees) with yews, making a beautiful foreground. We turned into a small
bay or creek, where we got out and walked a short way in the shade,
and up to where a tent was placed, just opposite a waterfall called
_Derricaunihy_, a lovely spot, but terribly infested by midges. In
this tent was tea, fruit, ice, cakes, and everything most tastefully
arranged. We just took some tea, which was very refreshing in the
great heat of this relaxing climate. The vegetation is quite that of
a jungle--ferns of all kinds and shrubs and trees,--all springing up
luxuriantly. We entered our boats and went back the same way we came,
admiring greatly the beauty of the scenery; and this time went down the
rapids in the boat. No boats, except our own, had followed us beyond
the rapids. But below them there were a great many, and the scene was
very animated and the people very noisy and enthusiastic. The Irish
always give that peculiar shrill shriek--unlike anything one ever hears
anywhere else.


  _Wednesday, August 28._

At a quarter-past eleven we started on a most beautiful drive, of
which I annex the route. We drove with Mrs. Herbert and Bertie in
our sociable, driven from the box by Wagland;[64] and, though the
highest mountains were unfortunately occasionally enveloped in mist,
and we had slight showers, we were enchanted with the extreme beauty
of the scenery. The peeps of the lake; the splendid woods full of the
most magnificent arbutus, which in one place form, for a few yards,
an avenue under which you drive, with the rocks,--which are very
peculiar--all made it one of the finest drives we had ever taken.
Turning up by the village and going round, the _Torc_ mountain reminded
us of _Scotland_--of the woods above _Abergeldie_, of _Craig Daign_ and
_Craig Clunie_. It was _so_ fine. We got out at the top of the _Torc
Waterfall_ and walked down to the foot of it. We came home at half-past
one. At four we started for the boats, quite close by. The _Muckross
Lake_ is extremely beautiful; at the beginning of our expedition it
looked dark and severe in the mist and showers which kept coming on,
just as it does in the _Highlands_. Mr. Herbert steered. Our girls,
Mrs. Herbert, Lady Churchill, and Lord Granville were in the boat with
us. The two boys went in a boat rowed by gentlemen, and the rest in two
other boats. At Mr. and Mrs. Herbert’s request I christened one of the
points which runs into the lake with a bottle of wine, Albert holding
my arm when we came close by, so that it was most successfully smashed.

[64] My coachman since 1857; and a good, zealous servant. He entered
the Royal service in 1831, and rode as postilion for seventeen years.
His father has been thirty-two years porter in the Royal Mews at
Windsor, and is now seventy-five years old; and has been sixty years
in the service. His grandfather was also in the Royal service, having
entered it in 1788; and his daughter is nursery-maid to the Prince of
Wales’s children. Four generations, therefore, have served the Royal
Family.

When we emerged from under _Brickeen Bridge_ we had a fine view of the
_Lower Lake_ and of the scenery of yesterday, which rather puzzled me,
seeing it from another _point de vue_. At _Benson’s Point_ we stopped
for some time, merely rowing about backwards and forwards, or remaining
stationary, watching for the deer (all this is a deer forest as well
as at _Glena_), which we expected the dogs would find and bring down
into the water. But in vain: we waited till past six and no deer came.
The evening had completely cleared and became quite beautiful; and the
effect of the numbers of boats full of people, many with little flags,
rowing about in every direction and cheering and shouting, lit up by
the evening light, was charming. At _Darby’s Garden_ the shore was
densely crowded, and many of the women in their blue cloaks waded into
the water, holding their clothes up to their knees.

We were home by seven o’clock, having again a slight sprinkling of
rain.
