Part 10

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!