I Have Seen Nothing In England Which
Compares In Splendor With The State Which Is Kept Up Here.
We passed Wednesday and Thursday here most agreeably, and we rode or
walked during the whole days.
Lord Breadalbane, by the way, has
just been appointed Lord High Chamberlain to the Queen in place of
Lord Spencer. I am glad of this because we are brought often in
contact with the Lord Chamberlain, but it is very strange to me that
a man who lives like a king, and through whose dominions we
travelled a hundred miles from the German Ocean to the Atlantic, can
be Chamberlain to any Queen. These feudal subordinations we
republicans cannot understand. . . . We stopped at the little town
of Oban. After reading our letters and getting a dinner, we went
out just before sunset for a walk.
We wished much to see the ruins of Dunolly. We passed the porter's
lodge and found ourselves directly in the most picturesque grounds
on the very shore of the ocean and with the Western Islands lying
before us. Mr. Bancroft sent in his card, which brought out
instantly the key to the old castle, and in a few moments Capt.
MacDougal and Mr. Phipps, a brother of Lord Normanby's, joined us.
They pointed out the interesting points in the landscape, the Castle
of Ardtornish, the scene of Lord of the Isles, etc., in addition to
the fine old ruin we came to see. We lingered till the lighthouses
had begun to glow, and I was reminded very much of the scenery at
Wood's Hole, which I used to enjoy so much, only that could not
boast the association with poetry and feudal romance. We then went
into the house, and found a charming domestic circle in full evening
dress with short sleeves, so that my gray travelling cloak and straw
bonnet were rather out of place. Here were Mrs. Phipps, and Miss
Campbell, her sister, daughters of Sir Colin Campbell, and to my
great delight, Captain MacDougal brought out the great brooch of
Lorn, which his ancestor won from Bruce and the story of which you
will find in the Lord of the Isles. It fastened the Scotch Plaid,
and is larger than a teacup. He described to me the reverential way
in which Scott took it in both hands when he showed it to him. The
whole evening was pleasant and the more so from being unexpected. .
. . One little thing which adds always to the charm of Scotch
scenery is the dress of the peasantry. One never sees the real
Highland costume, but every shepherd has his plaid slung over one
shoulder, making the most graceful drapery. This, with the
universal Glengarry bonnet, is very pretty.
At Glasgow we intended to pay a visit of a day to the historian
Alison, but found letters announcing Governor Davis's arrival in
London with Mr. Corcoran and immediately turned our faces homeward.
We were to have passed a week on our return amidst the lakes, and I
protested against going back to London without one look at least.
So we stopped at Kendal on Saturday, took a little carriage over to
Windermere and Ambleside and passed the whole evening with the poet
and Mrs. Wordsworth, at their own exquisite home on Rydal Mount.
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