Chapter III: Part 3

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._

_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.

_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!