All He Could
Learn Was What We Had Already Told Him, And So On He Went, Not
Knowing Whether Right Or Wrong, Giving Us A Fine Opportunity Of
Seeing The City In The Evening.
At last, he came to the bridge over
the Clyde, and there the tollman directed us to the Observatory.
After a long drive, evidently over not a very good road, the driver
stopped, and told us that here was Dr. Nichol's house. He began to
take off our luggage. We insisted upon his inquiring, first, if that
was Dr. Nichol's. He took off our trunk, and would have us go in; we
resisted; and after a while he rang the bell, and the answer was,
"Dr. Nichol lives in the next house." Still higher we had to climb,
and at last stopped at the veritable Observatory, where our friend,
who was expecting us, lived. Nothing could exceed the hospitality
with which we were received.
Early, one misty, smoky morning, I embarked in one of the famous
little Clyde steamers, and set out on a Highland tour. I had heard
of old Scotia's barren hills, clothed with the purple heather and
the yellow gorse, of her deep glens, of her romantic streams; but
the reality went far beyond the description, or my imagination. The
hills are all bare of trees, but their outline is very beautiful and
infinitely varied. Picture to yourself a ridge of hills or mountains
all purple with the heather, relieved with the silver-gray of the
rocks and with patches of the bright yellow gorse, and all this
harmony of color reflected in the green sea water which runs winding
far in among the hills. As the light changes, these colors are
either brought out more strongly, or mingle into one soft lilac
color, or sometimes a sort of purple-gray. Your eye is enchanted,
and never weary of looking and admiring. I would not have any trees
on the Scotch hills; I would not have them other than they are. If I
were dying I could look at them with joy; they are lovely beyond
words to tell.
I was on all the most celebrated and beautiful lakes. I was rowed in
an open boat, by two Highland youths, from one end of Loch Katrine
to the other, and through those beautiful, high, heathery, rocky
banks at one end of the lake, called the Trosachs. These exquisite
rocks are adorned, and every crevice fringed and festooned with
harebells, heather, gorse, and here and there beautiful evergreen
trees. We passed by "Ellen's Isle," as it is called, the most
exquisite little island ever formed, a perfect oval, and all covered
with the purple heather, the golden gorse, and all sorts of flowers
and exquisitely beautiful trees. O, what a little paradise it is! A
number of little row-boats, with fine-looking Highland rowers and
gay companies of ladies and gentlemen, were visiting the island as
we passed. They show the oak tree to which they say Ellen fastened
her boat. It was beautiful to see the glancing of the sunlight on
the oars of these boats, and the bright colors of the shawls and
bonnets of the ladies in them, and to witness this homage to nature
and genius which they were paying in their visit to Ellen's Isle. I
was glad to join them, and do reverence too. The heather is usually
not more than two feet high, - sometimes higher, but often shorter;
but on Ellen's Isle it grows to the height of four and five feet.
Just before we came to Oban, we passed the estate of Lord Heigh,
where we heard the following story. The origin of his name and rank
is this: When King Kenneth ruled in Scotland, he was beaten in a
great battle by the Danes, and his army scattered among the hills,
while the enemy was marching home in triumph. A man in the Scottish
army said that he knew a pass through which the victor must go,
where one man might stop a thousand, and offered himself and his two
sons to defend it. He came to the pass armed only with an ox-yoke,
but made such use of his weapon that the Danes were kept at bay,
till the Scots rallied and cut them to pieces. When Kenneth reached
the pass, he found his brave subject lying in truth quite exhausted.
He raised him up, and inquired his name; the fainting man could only
gasp, "Heigh-ho, heigh!" From that moment he was called the Lord of
Heigh, and the king gave him as much land as an eagle could fly over
without alighting. The family arms are an eagle on the wing over an
ox-yoke.
At Edinburgh, I went to see the Regalia, which are kept in a small
room in the castle, in which they were found after being buried
there for more than a century. It is a small room, not more than
twelve feet square. On one side is the iron chest in which the
Regalia were found; and in the middle of the room is a marble table,
entirely white, surrounded by an iron grating, on which is the crown
which Robert Bruce had made for himself, the sword of James the
First, the signet ring of Charles the First, and other jewels that
had belonged to some of the Scottish kings. Around these and the
other insignia of their former royalty the lamps are always burning.
This is an altar sacred to Auld Lang Syne.
I arrived in York at half past two o'clock at night. All was dark in
the city, save the lights in the large station, where we were let
out of our boxes with our luggage. We had contrived occasionally to
lie down on the hard wooden seats, resting our heads on our carpet
bags, and, by a little entreaty, had secured a box to ourselves, so
that we were not quite so weary as we might have been, and were in
good spirits for what was before us, which was to hunt up a lodging
place for the remainder of the night, for all the inns were closed.
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