Chapter V: Part 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SECOND GREAT EXPEDITION:--TO INVERMARK AND FETTERCAIRN.

_Friday, September 20, 1861._

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

[53] Prince Louis of Hesse.

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

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

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

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

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

_Saturday, September 21._

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EXPEDITION TO LOCH AVON.

_Saturday, September 28, 1861._

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Tuesday, October 8, 1861._

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Wednesday, October 9._

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_After a Drawing by Carl Haag._]

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

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

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

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

[57] The death of the Duchess of Kent.

LAST EXPEDITION.

_Wednesday, October 16, 1861._

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quite in the extreme West--_Ben Nevis_.

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

_After a Drawing by Carl Haag._]

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

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

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

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

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

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

From _Balmoral_ to--

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

Returning route:—

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