LANDS:

1841.

'road had been among moors and mountains with huge THE High'masses of rock, which fell down God knows where, 'sprinkling the ground in every direction, and giving it 'the aspect of the burial place of a race of giants.

Now

C. D.

to

J. F.

of Glencoe

' and then we passed a hut or two, with neither window nor 'chimney, and the smoke of the peat fire rolling out at the 'door. But there were not six of these dwellings in a 'dozen miles; and anything so bleak and wild, and mighty in its loneliness, as the whole country, it is impossible 'to conceive. Glencoe itself is perfectly terrible. The The pass 'pass is an awful place. It is shut in on each side by enormous rocks from which great torrents come rushing 'down in all directions. In amongst these rocks on one 'side of the pass (the left as we came) there are scores of 'glens, high up, which form such haunts as you might 'imagine yourself wandering in, in the very height and 'madness of a fever. They will live in my dreams for 'years-I was going to say as long as I live, and I 'seriously think so. The very recollection of them makes 'me shudder... Well, I will not bore you with my impres'sions of these tremendous wilds, but they really are 'fearful in their grandeur and amazing solitude. Wales 'is a mere toy compared with them.'

The further mention of his guide's whimsical ways may stand, for it cannot now be the possible occasion of pain or annoyance, or of anything but very innocent laughter.

'We are now in a bare white house on the banks of Loch Leven. 'Loch-leven, but in a comfortably furnished room on 'the top of the house-that is, on the first floorwith the rain pattering against the window as though

LANDS:

1841.

C. D.

to

J. F.

A July evening.

THE HIGH- 'it were December, the wind howling dismally, a cold 'damp mist on everything without, a blazing fire within 'halfway up the chimney, and a most infernal Piper 'practising under the window for a competition of pipers 'which is to come off shortly. . . . The store of anecdotes 'of Fletcher with which we shall return, will last a iong 'time. It seems that the F's are an extensive clan, and that his father was a highlander. Accordingly, 'wherever he goes, he finds out some cotter or small 'farmer who is his cousin. I wish you could see him 'walking into his cousins' curds and cream, and into their 'dairies generally! Yesterday morning between eight and 'nine, I was sitting writing at the open window, when the 'postman came to the inn (which at Loch-earn-head is 'the post office) for the letters. He is going away, when Loch-earn Fletcher, who has been writing somewhere below stairs, 'rushes out, and cries "Halloa there! Is that the Post ?”

Postal

service at

head.

Route homeward.

"Yes!" somebody answers. "Call him back!" says "Fletcher: "Just sit down till I've done, and don't go ""away till I tell you."-Fancy! The General Post, with 'the letters of forty villages in a leathern bag! . . . Tomorrow at Oban. Sunday at Inverary. Monday at Tarbet. 'Tuesday at Glasgow (and that night at Hamilton). 'Wednesday at Melrose. Thursday at Ditto. Friday I 'don't know where. Saturday at York. Sunday-how

'glad I shall be to shake hands with you. My love 'to Mac. I thought he'd have written once. Ditto to 'Macready. I had a very nice and welcome letter from 'him, and a most hearty one from Elliotson. . . . P.S. Half 'asleep. So, excuse drowsiness of matter and composition.

LANDS:

1841.

C. D.

to

J. F.

'I shall be full of joy to meet another letter from you! THE HIGH‘. . . P.P.S. They speak Gaelic here, of course, and 'many of the common people understand very little English. Since I wrote this letter, I rang the girl 'upstairs, and gave elaborate directions (you know my 'way) for a pint of sherry to be made into boiling negus; 'mentioning all the ingredients one by one, and particularly 'nutmeg. When I had quite finished, seeing her obviously The maid 'bewildered, I said, with great gravity, "Now you know "what you're going to order?" "Oh yes. Sure." "What?" -a pause-"Just "-another pause-"Just plenty of 'nutbergs !"'

of the inn.

Glencoe.

The impression made upon him by the Pass of Glencoe was not overstated in this letter. It continued with him as he there expresses it; and, as we shall see hereafter, even where he expected to find Nature in her most Effect of desolate grandeur on the dreary waste of an American prairie, his imagination went back with a higher satisfaction to Glencoe. But his experience of it is not yet completely told. The sequel was in a letter of two days later date from 'Dalmally, Sunday, July the eleventh, '1841.'

'As there was no place of this name in our route, you 'will be surprised to see it at the head of this present 'writing. But our being here is a part of such moving 'accidents by flood and field as will astonish you. If you 'should happen to have your hat on, take it off, that your 'hair may stand on end without any interruption. To 'get from Ballyhoolish (as I am obliged to spell it when 'Fletcher is not in the way; and he is out at this moment)

At a place

not in his

route.

LANDS: 1841.

C. D.

to J. F.

An adven

ture

THE HIGH 'to Oban, it is necessary to cross two ferries, one of which 'is an arm of the sea, eight or ten miles broad. Into this 'ferry-boat, passengers, carriages, horses, and all, get bodily, 'and are got across by hook or by crook if the weather be reasonably fine. Yesterday morning, however, it blew 'such a strong gale that the landlord of the inn, where we 'had paid for horses all the way to Oban (thirty miles), 'honestly came upstairs just as we were starting, with the money in his hand, and told us it would be impossible to 'cross. There was nothing to be done but to come back 'five and thirty miles, through Glencoe and Inverouran, 'to a place called Tyndrum, whence a road twelve miles long crosses to Dalmally, which is sixteen miles from 'Inverary. Accordingly we turned back, and in a great 'storm of wind and rain began to retrace the dreary road we had come the day before. . . I was not at all ill pleased 'to have to come again through that awful Glencoe. If 'it had been tremendous on the previous day, yesterday 'it was perfectly horrific. It had rained all night, and was raining then, as it only does in these parts. Through 'the whole glen, which is ten miles long, torrents were 'boiling and foaming, and sending up in every direction 'spray like the smoke of great fires. They were rushing 'down every hill and mountain side, and tearing like 'devils across the path, and down into the depths of the 'rocks. Some of the hills looked as if they were full of 'silver, and had cracked in a hundred places. Others 'as if they were frightened, and had broken out into a 'deadly sweat. In others there was no compromise or 'division of streams, but one great torrent came roaring

Again

through Glencoe.

Torrents swollen

with rain

6

LANDS:

1841.

C. D.

to

J. F.

'down with a deafening noise, and a rushing of water that THE HIGH'was quite appalling. Such a spaet, in short (that's the 'country word), has not been known for many years, and 'the sights and sounds were beyond description. The post'boy was not at all at his ease, and the horses were very 'much frightened (as well they might be) by the perpetual 'raging and roaring; one of them started as we came 'down a steep place, and we were within that much (—) ' of tumbling over a precipice; just then, too, the drag 'broke, and we were obliged to go on as we best could, 'without it: getting out every now and then, and hanging Dangerous travelling. 'on at the back of the carriage to prevent its rolling down 'too fast, and going Heaven knows where. Well, in this 'pleasant state of things we came to King's-house again, 'having been four hours doing the sixteen miles. The 'rumble where Tom sat was by this time so full of water, 'that he was obliged to borrow a gimlet, and bore holes in 'the bottom to let it run out. The horses that were to 'take us on, were out upon the hills, somewhere within 'ten miles round; and three or four bare-legged fellows 'went out to look for 'em, while we sat by the fire and 'tried to dry ourselves. At last we got off again (without Incidents 'the drag and with a broken spring, no smith living dents. 'within ten miles), and went limping on to Inverouran. In the first three miles we were in a ditch and out again, ' and lost a horse's shoe. All this time it never once left 'off raining; and was very windy, very cold, very misty, and 'most intensely dismal. So we crossed the Black-mount, 'and came to a place we had passed the day before, where 'a rapid river runs over a bed of broken rock. Now, this

and acci