Entirely contrary to my expectations, I only suffered for this a few days, and was able to take a parting look at my prison, as I went down the lake, with feelings of complacency.  It was a majestic-looking hill, that Tongue, with the deep ravines on either side, and the richest robe of heather I have seen anywhere.

Mr. S. gave all the men who were looking for me a dinner in the barn, and he and Mrs. S. ministered to them, and they talked of Burns, really the national writer, and known by them, apparently, as none other is, and of hair-breadth escapes by flood and fell.  Afterwards they were all brought up to see me, and it was pleasing indeed to observe the good breeding and good, feeling with which they deported themselves on the occasion.  Indeed, this adventure created quite an intimate feeling between us and the people there.  I had been much pleased, with them before, in attending one of their dances, on account of the genuine independence and politeness of their conduct.  They were willing and pleased to dance their Highland flings and strathspeys for our amusement, and did it as naturally and as freely as they would have offered the stranger the best chair.

All the rest must wait a while.  I cannot economize time to keep up my record in any proportion with what happens, nor can I get out of Scotland on this page, as I had intended, without utterly slighting many gifts and graces.

LETTER VI.

INVERARY.—­THE ARGYLE FAMILY.—­DUMBARTON.—­SUNSET ON THE
CLYDE.—­GLASGOW.—­DIRT AND INTELLECT.—­STIRLING.—­“THE SCOTTISH
CHIEFS.”—­STIRLING CASTLE.—­THE TOURNAMENT GROUND.—­EDINBURGH.—­JAMES
SIMPSON.—­INFANT SCHOOLS.—­FREE BATHS.—­MELROSE.—­ABBOTSFORD.—­WALTER
SCOTT.—­DRYBURGH ABBEY.—­SCOTT’S TOMB.

Paris, November, 1846.

I am very sorry to leave such a wide gap between my letters, but I was inevitably prevented from finishing one that was begun for the steamer of the 4th of November.  I then hoped to prepare one after my arrival here in time for the Hibernia, but a severe cold, caught on the way, unfitted me for writing.  It is now necessary to retrace my steps a long way, or lose sight of several things it has seemed desirable to mention to friends in America, though I shall make out my narrative more briefly than if nearer the time of action.

If I mistake not, my last closed just as I was looking back on the hill where I had passed the night in all the miserable chill and amid the ghostly apparitions of a Scotch mist, but which looked in the morning truly beautiful, and (had I not known it too well to be deceived) alluring, in its mantle of rich pink heath, the tallest and most full of blossoms we anywhere saw, and with, the waterfall making music by its side, and sparkling in the morning sun.