glory--and where there is a little encampment of wooden and turf huts,
built by the late Duchess of Bedford; now no longer belonging to the
family, and, alas! all falling into decay--among splendid fir-trees,
the mountains rising abruptly from the sides of the valley. We were
quite enchanted with the beauty of the view. This place is about seven
miles from the mouth of the _Fishie_. Emerging from the wood we came
upon a good road, with low hills, beautifully heather-coloured, to
the left; those to the right, high and wooded, with noble corries and
waterfalls.
We met Lord and Lady Alexander Russell at a small farm-house, just
as we rode out of the wood, and had some talk with them. They feel
deeply the ruin of the place where they formerly lived, as it no longer
belongs to them. We rode on for a good long distance, 12 miles, till
we came to the ferry of the _Spey_. Deer were being driven in the
woods, and we heard several shots. We saw fine ranges of hills on the
_Speyside_, or _Strathspey_, and opening to our left, those near _Loch
Laggan_. We came to a wood of larch; from that, upon cultivated land,
with _Kinrara_ towards our right, where the monument to the late Duke
of Gordon is conspicuously seen on a hill, which was perfectly crimson
with heather.
Before entering the larch wood, Lord Alexander Russell caught us up
again in a little pony carriage, having to go the same way, and he
was so good as to explain everything to us. He showed us “The Duke of
Argyll’s Stone”--a cairn on the top of a hill to our right, celebrated,
as seems most probable, from the Marquis of Argyll having halted there
with his army. We came to another larch wood, when I and Lady Churchill
got off our ponies, as we were very stiff from riding so long; and at
the end of this wood we came upon _Loch Inch_, which is lovely, and
of which I should have liked exceedingly to have taken a sketch, but
we were pressed for time and hurried. The light was lovely; and some
cattle were crossing a narrow strip of grass across the end of the loch
nearest to us, which really made a charming picture. It is not a wild
lake, quite the contrary; no high rocks, but woods and blue hills as a
background. About a mile from this was the ferry. There we parted from
our ponies, only Grant and Brown coming on with us. Walker, the police
inspector, met us, but did not keep with us. He had been sent to order
everything in a quiet way, without letting people suspect who we were:
in this he entirely succeeded. The ferry was a very rude affair; it
was like a boat or coble, but we could only stand on it, and it was
moved at one end by two long oars, plied by the ferryman and Brown, and
at the other end by a long sort of beam, which Grant took in hand. A
few seconds brought us over to the road, where there were two shabby
vehicles, one a kind of barouche, into which Albert and I got, Lady
Churchill and General Grey into the other--a break; each with a pair
of small and rather miserable horses, driven by a man from the box.
Grant was on our carriage, and Brown on the other. We had gone so far
40 miles, at least 20 on horseback. We had decided to call ourselves
_Lord and Lady Churchill and party_, Lady Churchill passing as _Miss
Spencer_, and General Grey as _Dr. Grey_! Brown once forgot this, and
called me “Your Majesty” as I was getting into the carriage; and Grant
on the box once called Albert “Your Royal Highness;” which set us off
laughing, but no one observed it.
[Illustration]
We had a long three hours’ drive; it was six o’clock when we got
into the carriage. We were soon out of the wood, and came upon the
_Badenoch_ road--passing close by _Kinrara_, but unfortunately not
through it, which we ought to have done. It was very beautiful--fine
wooded hills--the high _Cairngorm_ range, and _Ben Muich Dhui_,
unfortunately much obscured by the mist on the top--and the broad
_Spey_ flowing in the valley, with cultivated fields and fine trees
below. Most striking, however, on our whole long journey was the utter,
and to me very refreshing, solitude. Hardly a habitation! and hardly
meeting a soul! It gradually grew dark. We stopped at a small half-way
house for the horses to take some water; and the few people about
stared vacantly at the two simple vehicles.
The mountains gradually disappeared,--the evening was mild, with a
few drops of rain. On and on we went, till at length we saw lights,
and drove through a long and straggling “toun,” and turned down a
small court to the door of the inn. Here we got out quickly--Lady
Churchill and General Grey not waiting for us. We went up a small
staircase, and were shown to our bed-room at the top of it--very small,
but clean--with a large four-post bed which nearly filled the whole
room. Opposite was the drawing and dining-room in one--very tidy and
well-sized. Then came the room where Albert dressed, which was very
small. The two maids (Jane Shackle[52] was with me) had driven over by
another road in the waggonette, Stewart driving them. Made ourselves
“clean and tidy,” and then sat down to our dinner. Grant and Brown were
to have waited on us, but were “bashful” and did not. A ringletted
woman did everything; and, when dinner was over, removed the cloth
and placed the bottle of wine (our own which we had brought) on the
table with the glasses, which was the old English fashion. The dinner
was very fair, and all very clean:--soup, “hodge-podge,” mutton-broth
with vegetables, which I did not much relish, fowl with white sauce,
good roast lamb, very good potatoes, besides one or two other dishes,
which I did not taste, ending with a good tart of cranberries. After
dinner, I tried to write part of this account (but the talking round
me confused me), while Albert played at “patience.” Then went away, to
begin undressing, and it was about half-past eleven when we got to bed.
[52] One of my wardrobe-maids, and daughter to the Page mentioned
earlier.
_Wednesday, September 5._
A misty, rainy morning. Had not slept very soundly. We got up rather
early, and sat working and reading in the drawing-room till the
breakfast was ready, for which we had to wait some little time. Good
tea and bread and butter, and some excellent porridge. Jane Shackle
(who was very useful and attentive) said that they had all supped
together, namely, the two maids, and Grant, Brown, Stewart, and Walker
(who was still there), and were very merry in the “commercial room.”
The people were very amusing about us. The woman came in while they
were at their dinner, and said to Grant, “Dr. Grey wants you,” which
nearly upset the gravity of all the others: then they told Jane, “Your
lady gives no trouble;” and Grant in the morning called up to Jane,
“Does his lordship want me?” One could look on the street, which is
a very long wide one, with detached houses, from our window. It was
perfectly quiet, no one stirring, except here and there a man driving a
cart, or a boy going along on his errand. General Grey bought himself a
watch in a shop for 2_l._!
At length, at about ten minutes to ten o’clock, we started in the
same carriages and the same way as yesterday, and drove up to _Castle
Grant_, Lord Seafield’s place,--a fine (not Highland-looking) park,
with a very plain-looking house, like a factory, about two miles from
the town. It was drizzling almost the whole time. We did not get
out, but drove back, having to pass through _Grantown_ again; where
evidently “the murder was out,” for all the people were in the street,
and the landlady waved her pocket-handkerchief, and the ringletted maid
(who had curl-papers in the morning) waved a flag from the window. Our
coachman evidently did not observe or guess anything. As we drove out
of the town, turning to our right through a wood, we met many people
coming into the town, which the coachman said was for a funeral.
We passed over the _Spey_, by the _Bridge of Spey_. It continued
provokingly rainy, the mist hanging very low on the hills, which,
however, did not seem to be very high, but were pink with heather. We
stopped to have the cover of leather put over our carriage, which is
the fashion of all the flys here. It keeps out the rain, however, very
well.
The first striking feature in this country is the _Pass of Dal Dhu_,
above which the road winds,--a steep corrie, with green hills. We
stopped at a small inn, with only one other house near it; and here
the poor wretchedly-jaded horses got a little water, and waited for
about ten minutes. Further on we came to a very steep hill, also to
a sort of pass, called _Glen Bruin_, with green hills, evidently of
slate formation. Here we got out, and walked down the hill, and over
the _Bridge of Bruin_, and partly up another hill, the road winding
amazingly after this--up and down hill. We then came in sight of the
_Avon_, winding below the hills; and again got out at a little wood,
before the _Bridge of Avon_; the river is fine and clear here. We
re-entered our carriages (Lady Churchill and I for this short time
together), and drove about a mile further up a hill to _Tomintoul_; our
poor horses being hardly able to drag themselves any longer, the man
whipping them and whistling to them to go on, which they could not,
and I thought every instant that they would stop in the village. We
took four hours to drive these 14 miles; for it was two o’clock when
we were outside the town, and got out to mount our ponies. _Tomintoul_
is the most tumble-down, poor-looking place I ever saw--a long street
with three inns, miserable dirty-looking houses and people, and a sad
look of wretchedness about it. Grant told me that it was the dirtiest,
poorest village in the whole of the _Highlands_.
We mounted our ponies a short way out of the town, but only rode for a
few minutes as it was past two o’clock. We came upon a beautiful view,
looking down upon the _Avon_ and up a fine glen. There we rested and
took luncheon. While Brown was unpacking and arranging our things, I
spoke to him and to Grant, who was helping, about not having waited on
us, as they ought to have done, at dinner last night and at breakfast,
as we had wished; and Brown answered, he was afraid he should not do it
rightly; I replied we did not wish to have a stranger in the room, and
they must do so another time.
Luncheon (provisions for which we had taken with us from home
yesterday) finished, we started again, walked a little way, till we
were overtaken by the men and ponies, and then rode along _Avonside_,
the road winding at the bottom of the glen, which is in part tolerably
wide; but narrows as it turns, and winds round towards _Inchrory_,
where it is called _Glen Avon_. The hills, sloping down to the river
side, are beautifully green. It was very muggy--quite oppressive,
and the greater part of the road deep and sloppy, till we came upon
the granite formation again. In order to get on, as it was late, and
we had eight miles to ride, our men,--at least Brown and two of the
others,--walked before us at a fearful pace, so that we had to trot
to keep up at all. Grant rode frequently on the deer pony; the others
seemed, however, a good deal tired with the two long days’ journey,
and were glad to get on Albert’s or the General’s pony to give
themselves a lift; but their willingness, readiness, cheerfulness,
indefatigableness, are very admirable, and make them most delightful
servants. As for Grant and Brown they are perfect--discreet, careful,
intelligent, attentive, ever ready to do what is wanted; and the
latter, particularly, is handy and willing to do everything and
anything, and to overcome every difficulty, which makes him one of my
best servants anywhere.
We passed by _Inchrory_--seeing, as we approached, two eagles towering
splendidly above, and alighting on the top of the hills. From
_Inchrory_, we rode to _Loch Bulig_, which was beautifully lit up by
the setting sun. From _Tomintoul_ we escaped all real rain, having
only a slight sprinkling every now and then. At _Loch Bulig_ we found
our carriage and four ponies, and drove back just as we left yesterday
morning, reaching _Balmoral_ safely at half-past seven.
What a delightful, successful expedition! Dear Lady Churchill was, as
usual, thoroughly amiable, cheerful, and ready to do everything. Both
she and the General seemed entirely to enjoy it, and enter into it,
and so I am sure did our people. To my dear Albert do we owe it, for
he always thought it would be delightful, having gone on many similar
expeditions in former days himself. He enjoyed it very much. We heard
since that the secret came out through a man recognizing Albert in the
street yesterday morning; then the crown on the dog-cart made them
think that it was some one from _Balmoral_, though they never suspected
that it could be ourselves! “The lady must be terrible rich,” the
woman observed, as I had so many gold rings on my fingers!--I told
Lady Churchill she had on many more than I had. When they heard who it
was, they were ready to drop with astonishment and fright. I fear I
have but poorly recounted this very amusing and never to be forgotten
expedition, which will always be remembered with delight.
I must pay a tribute to our ponies. Dear “Fyvie” is perfection, and
Albert’s equally excellent.
SECOND GREAT EXPEDITION:--TO INVERMARK AND FETTERCAIRN.
_Friday, September 20, 1861._
Looked anxiously at the weather at seven o’clock--there had been
a little rain, there was still mist on the hills, and it looked
doubtful. However, Albert said it would be best to keep to the original
arrangements, and so we got up early, and by eight the sun shone, and
the mist began to lift everywhere. We breakfasted at half-past eight,
and at half-past nine we started in two sociables--Alice and Louis[53]
with us in the first, and Grant on the box; Lady Churchill and General
Grey in the second, and Brown on the box. We drove to the _Bridge of
Muich_, where we found our six ponies, and five gillies (J. Smith, J.
Morgan, Kennedy, C. Stewart, and S. Campbell). We rode up the peat-road
over the hill of _Polach_ and down it again for about four miles, and
then came to a very soft bit; but still with careful management we
avoided getting into any of the bogs, and I remained on my pony all the
time. Albert and Louis had to get off and walk for about two hundred
yards. The hills of _Loch-na-Gar_ were very hazy, but _Mount Keen_ was
in great beauty before us, and as we came down to the _Glen of Corrie
Vruach_, and looked down _Glen Tanar_, the scenery was grand and wild.
_Mount Keen_ is a curious conical-shaped hill, with a deep corrie in
it. It is nearly 3,200 feet high, and we had a very steep rough ascent
over the shoulder, after crossing the _Tanar Water_. It was six and a
half miles from the _Bridge of Muich_ to _Corrie Vruach_.
[53] Prince Louis of Hesse.
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.