Chapter IV: Part 4

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.

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.

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.

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._