RECOLLECTIONS OF SCOTLAND.

From a Gentleman's Journal.

It was a bright morning in July, when I left that bustling city, Glasgow, to take a short trip through the Highlands. Everything was life and animation. Porters were busily engaged in conveying luggage on board the steamers. Runners from the various companies were waylaying unfortunate travellers. My trip by steamer being only to Dumbarton, I was soon quietly allowed to pass. In a few minutes, all was announced ready, and we were fairly started for the Highlands. The Clyde at Glasgow becomes very narrow, and the navigation from Greenock to Glasgow, at all times is difficult, owing to the shallowness of the river. Having now arrived at Dumbarton Castle, (which is built on a huge black rock rising from the Clyde,) once so ably defended by that patriot, Sir William Wallace, but at last shamefully betrayed by his own countryman, Sir John Monteith, who suffered an ignominous death in London, but not having time to go over the castle in this tour, I contented myself with merely taking a passing view. Dumbarton is very picturesque; numbers of neat cottages are scattered on the river's bank. We now left our steamer and took a carriage to the foot of Loch Lomond; the country was very beautiful. We passed some delightful summer retreats, occupied by wealthy merchants. Several ladies and gentlemen came in the party, which made it much more agreeable. We now suddenly came in view of the Loch. Ben Lomond's snowy top, we could perceive in the distance, rising far above the clouds. The emotion I felt, I can scarcely describe. Sir Walter Scott's beautiful work was brought to mind, with recollections of border chiefs and those deadly feuds which caused so much noble blood to be shed, and ultimately brought about that union with England, which fortunately has been so much more to her advantage than to poor Erin. We now drove to a small hotel, where a good plain breakfast was laid. The steamer which was to convey us up the loch, was quietly lying in front of our hotel, and fifteen minutes were allowed us, to partake of the good things before us. Our time having expired, we had our luggage conveyed on board, and were steaming our way up the loch. The scenery, in many parts, is very grand; mountains rising on all sides, while numerous islands are interspersed in various parts of the loch. Numbers of red deer were seen quietly grazing, while here and there were to be seen a hunting box or cottage on the islands, occupied by game keepers. Some parts of the loch are very narrow, while others are ten and twelve miles broad. We now were approaching Ben Lomond, which rises almost perpendicularly from the water to the height of some thousand feet. The sides were thickly shaded with pine,

with here and there a huge rock protruding. A thick mist hung over the top. Had time permitted, I would have liked to clamber up its sides, the view to be obtained, fully repaying for the trouble and fatigue. Numerous caves were pointed out to us in the rocks, one in particular, named after that famous freebooter, Rob Roy, where he and his men used nightly to resort. We were also shown the spot where he lies buried. Having now arrived at the head of the loch, several of our tourists left us, taking the western route through the islands. The distance is sixty miles from the foot to the head of the loch, and was performed in five hours. Our boat now retraced her way to a landing, called Inversnaid, where we engaged ponies to convey us across a portion of the mountains to the foot of Lock Katrine. The true character of the wily Scot was here shown to us. After endeavoring to extort double price for the use of their ponies, they espied one of our ladies who had a trunk somewhat larger than was altogether prudent for travelling over these mountains, for conveying which they resolutely demanded twelve shillings. Having no other alternative than to pay or leave it behind, our fair friend was obliged to comply with their demand. It was a source of merriment for us, at our lady's expense. Travellers must always expect to pay little extras of that kind, and these poor Scots depend solely on what they gain in this way, for their support through the winter. One of the chief objects of interest on the route, was the cottage in which Helen McGregor was born. A number of little curiosities were shown us. We now reached the Loch Katrine. A small hut for the registry of visitors' names and the sale of pure wiskey and-oat cakes, was the only place of accommodation afforded us. An eight-oared cutter being ready, we took our seats to be rowed to the Trossachs, two miles above the head of the loch. Nothing could equal the beauty and sublimity of scenery now around us; we were hemmed in by mountains, rising many hundred feet above the lake. Few places are so fit for meditation as the bosom of a quiet loch. When far away from home, isolated from the busy world, then can we gaze on the wonders of nature, and admire the mighty works of our great Creator.

Having heard that the echo was repeated many times, on this loch, I asked one of our worthy Scots to give us a shout. He did so, and it was distinctly reechoed all around us. We were now drawing near the famous island, where the lady is so beautifully described by Scott, in his poem of the Lady of the Lake, as appearing to King James. One of our boatmen gave us a recitation from that lay, which was certainly very appropriate to the occasion. We landed on this lovely island, formed by nature with all that inspires a poet, there plased in a lake, hemmed in on all sidec by mountains, while rich shrubs and wild flowers were luxuriantly flourishing around; fit home for aerial spirits and speil-bound fairies of our imaginations and our dreams. Having again embarked, one of our boatmen sang us Burns's Highland Mary. The

feeling with which this poor Scot sang this beautiful production of nature's poet, the peculiar situation, and the accompaniment of a flute, pleased me more than at any other time lever heard it. Having now reached the landing, we had to walk two miles to the Stewart's Inn, at the Trossachs, and fortunately found a good dinner, which after our fast and long journey, was a thing to be highly appreciated. As this is a favorite route for tourists between Glasgow and Edinburgh, the hotel was well filled. We made several excursions to the loch and surrounding mountains. My time being limited, I was obliged to leave my friends, and posted on to Callender on the borders of Sterlingshire. The route was very delightful, around mountains, and then through verdant plains, with now and then some old feudal castle rising abruptly in front of you. The distance was sixteen miles. Intending to stay all night, we drove to the McGregor Arms Hotel. Old and antiquated, it had once been a baronial hail, belonging to that clan. The waiter shewed me into a large room with fine oak roof, richly carved. Tapestry hung all round the walls, the windows were almost hid with heavy, dingy, crimson drapery, giving the place a most gloomy appearance. Not being of a superstitious turn, my slumbers were not disturbed by dreams, but I found myself in the morning much refreshed. A coach leaving for Sterling, I bade farewell to the mountain scenery, and entered a rich corn country. Farm houses were interspersed along the road, while numbers of peasantry were busily employed cutting and binding the wheat. The town of Stirling is built on the side of a hill. At the extreme point of the rock, is built the castle, which on one side, rises almost perpendicularly. The view from the castle is most extensive, on a clear day. Edinborough can be plainly seen. The castle is used as a military barrack, and was occupied by the 42d Highlanders. They have upward of 10,000 stand of arms, also a variety of curious weapons and pikes, that were taken during the struggles of the Pretender. Stirling is an irregularly built town, of little interest. The village of Allan, a few miles from Stirling, celebrated for a mineral spring, is becoming quite a place of resort. The scenery on the Frith of Forth is in some parts very grand. I made a very short stay in Stirling, being anxious to receive my letters at Edinburgh.

A coach running daily, I procured a place, and soon lost sight of Stirling. Our coachman pointed out to me the field of Bannockburn; we also had a fine view of the Grampian Hills. In four hours, we came in sight of Edinburgh. We entered at Princes street, which certainly stands almost unrivaled for its regularity and beauty, and drove up to McQueen's Hotel, where I passed the night.

Rising early, I was resolved to make the best of my time, in viewing this classic city and strolling towards Carlton Hill, purposing to take an early view of the city and county. A column is erected to commemorate the victories of Nelson, and having

ascended it, one of the finest panoramas I ever beheld, arose before me. Leith with its numerous shipping, riding at anchor; that masterpiece of skill, Granton pier stretching itself far into. the sea, Arthur's seat far above; the Castle and the old town, with its brick houses, rising twelve or fourteen stories high, in contrast with the magnificent files of buildings in Princes st., and noble squares beneath me. Few cities can show such variety of aspect as Edinborough. On one portion of Carlton Hill, are standing fifteen pillars of pure Doric designed for the support of a building for the reception of works of art, similar to the Louvre in Paris, but unfortunately, the building could not be finished, from want of funds to carry on the work. The columns now stand to show the decline of this great city, but add much to the beauty of the modern Athens. A fine monument is erected to Burns by the corporation of the city. I was much shocked with the deserted appearance of the new town; the regularity and beauty of the buildings, the absence of all kinds of bustle in the streets are noteable. Numbers of princely mansions are unoccupied and grass and weeds are running wild in many of the principal squares. The absence of the Scotch aristocracy, residing in London, is the chief cause of this.

Being desirous of going over Holyrood Palace, in the morning, I crossed an elegant bridge in Princes st. into the Old Town. High street is the principal avenue. Numerous old houses are still standing. I noticed in front of one, the figure of John Knox. Many singularly carved fronts still remain. There are several old churches standing in this city.

Holyrood Palace stands in a low, unhealthy situation, and is one of the most gloomy-looking edifices I ever beheld. It has more the appearance of a prison than of a palace. Soldiers were keeping guard, who allowed me to pass. A female guide then conducted me over that part of the palace which was unoccupied and alone allowed to be seen by visitors. After passing through a number of small rooms, I was usherd into the grand ball-room. On each side were hung full length likenesses of the Scottish Kings and Queens. The room was so dark as to prevent my passing an opinion on the merits of the paintings. The floor was highly polished and of finely grained oak. We now were shown a suit of rooms, occupied by the ex-king of France, Charles the Tenth. The furniture was very antiquated, the walls were covered with tapestry. Passing on, I came to a fine room, elegantly furnished, and the one in which George the Fourth, when regent, held a levee. A fine full length figure of he late prince, in royal Stuart costume, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, is much admired, and considered very correct.

The apartments of Mary, Queen of Scots, remain precisely the same as when she occupied them. They consist of a drawingroom, bed-room and dressing-room. The bed is fast decaying, as also the furniture. The spot in which Rizzio was so brutally

murdered, is still indicated by dark spots on the floor. Our guide said that it was impossible to erase them. Whether artificial means are not resorted to, to retain the spots, I cannot give au opinion. A private stair-case from this spot, leads to the chapel. Many writers are very severe in condemning her; whether justly or not, it is difficult to say.

Its being thought that she was indirectly concerned in the murder of Lord Darnley, may in a measure account for their severity. Few woman are to be more pitied, brought up as she was, amid the gaieties and follies of a French court, where the tone of morality was so far below that of Scotland. How can we wonder at the events that characterize her reign and life? Ill-treated and neglected as she was by Darnley, and he, a man so little calculated to fulfil the part of a husband to a lady of such refined taste, such elegance of manners, such a votary to poetry and music, how then can we wonder that after Rizzio's introduction at court and his warm impassioned strains so in sympathy with her own feelings, it led, on both sides, to those results of which we every day have proofs before us? As a scholar and a

gentleman, as a musician and a poet, Rizzio was allowed to be unsurpassed, while Darnly was cold, reserved and haughty, so opposite to the gentleman of the continent. The cruelty with which she was treated, her long confinement at various castles, her uniform kindness to all her domestics, and her unfortunate end must always render her a subject of pity, and cause us to lament the prejudices of that age. As she fell a victim to the jealousy and revenge of her cousin Elizabeth, her death is a blot upon the reign of that Queen, which nothing can efface.

I now descended the stairs leading to the chapel, which is quite in ruins. Sufficient, however, remains to indicate its former beauty. I returned to my hotel in a serious mood; the gloomy and dark appearance of the whole place, the thoughts of the sufferings and death of that unfortunate Queen, all had a depressing effect on my mind. How thankful should we be, that such prejudices and cruelties are no longer tolerated!