from the back seat was the foolish answer that it was no doubt very fine if they could see it, I did see it, and found it wonderful. It is therefore my advice to tourists: If the day is a wet day, never mind -get something to cover you over (and for a lady, in my opinion, nothing is better than a good skirt), and go straight on, and keep your eyes open. But to lose a day out of mere nonsense, you know, after you have quite settled upon your journey, and to be seduced into abandoning an old and well-considered route for a new and hastilyseized one, with coaches uncertain, and dog-carts unsatisfactory; and to feel all the time a regret for that lost day, which it is quite impossible to forget, as if you were for ever hunting it, and could never reach it, is the greatest annoyance imaginable. Any feeling person will understand my sentiments, as I went driving over the country with nothing between me and the blast, and with two people behind me talking and enjoying themselves, actually without a single thought of the landscape which they had come all this way to see; and dear, dear me, to think of that poor old Arabella! Fancy her, poor thing, imagining herself young again, and dreaming about communion of souls! Privately, on the front seat, I was in agonies of silent laughter; but my friendly feelings, you know, eventually gained the upper hand. I could bear to laugh at her myself, but not to see other people laugh at her. And really, after all, though she is foolish, and adopts little youthful airs, and behaves ridiculous enough sometimes, at the bottom she is a dear friend of mine, and a good old soul! The aggravating circumstance of all, however, was the loss of that Monday. I made a point of asking all the people at the inns, and all the drivers, what sort of a day it was, and the answer was invariable, A lovely day and we had actually turned back and sacrificed it for no reason in this world but Arabella's weak

minded nonsense! I really could scarcely contain myself when I realised how it was.

At length we came down upon Loch Tay, through a lovely wooded road, which I remember years ago. I had seen Loch Tay, and was twenty times more interested in it for my companions' sake than for my own. The lights and clouds which had been so favourable for the hills, were not so suitable, I am obliged to confess, for that loch, which is neither like Loch Awe nor Loch Lomond, nor any other loch but itself, all heavenly and serene as it is, with Taymouth sitting splendid at its head. It ceased to rain as we came along those wooded banks, which I remember so distinctly, and which I was only anxious to point out to the others. I could hear that poor dear Arabella was talking deep sentiment by this time, from which I perceived that the current was getting exhausted; and she actually did condescend to pay some attention as we went on, the rain having ceased at last. Loch Tay, however, wants sunshine. It lay gleaming all dark before me, with a look (though I am not given to sentiment), a visible look, of something having gone out of it since those days when I saw it first. Ah me! I daresay not only myself upon the box, with my umbrella up, steadfastly looking at the view, but poor dear Arabella with all her little follies, and even that excellent young A himself, who might be our son, as far as age goes, had our own thoughts going trudging on with us, all the same, every step of the way. I never heard that anybody ever got free of those companions; and when I looked at that loch, many a scene unseen to my friends came up before me. It was the same as ever, long and tranquil and shining, with two great banks all rich with wood projecting out into the water, like a kind of grand portal to the basin on which Taymouth is planted; but something had gone out of it since last I saw it-out of it or out of my eyes—

something never to return any

more.

I hope nobody will suppose I am sentimentally minded-quite the reverse is the case. I resolved to take the management of the whole matter into my own hands after this, and quite to exclude Arabella from having anything to do with it. In this spirit I got down at the pretty new inn at Kenmore, got the most charming rooms, a famous fire and tea, without consulting anybody. Arabella came in looking a little ashamed of herself, and young A÷— much amused, as was natural. Then began a comical scene. I set their enormities before them, as was proper; and Arabella, poor old soul! with all the consciousness of guilt, began to justify herself. She declared she had seen everything all along the way; she protested she

could not tell what I meant. She went into an elderly flutter and palpitation, and appealed to young A whether she had been doing anything wrong. Actually the dear old creature believed she had been flirting, and did not know what to say for herself. Was there ever anything more absurd? If I had been silent all day long, I assure you I had the laugh on my side now. And so ended the day we spent in dogcarts, driving through the rain from Loch Awe to Loch Tay. I am merciful. I let Arabella off. I said no more about it; but I must say it was not for nothing that I spent that day in silence with my umbrella up, seeing more hills and mists than I ever saw in my life, and put out of the way by my companions, under pretence of giving me the best seat, upon the driving-box.

After the narratives of my fair friends, I need not enter into any explanation of the little difficulties and hitches of the journey. The good old ladies enjoyed it, I don't doubt, in spite of all, and were as good friends as ever, like a pair of old doves, the next morning, when the missing sun presented himself, and we were at length able to set out with comfort on foot to see the beautiful grounds of Taymouth. I got along with them famously, I am glad to say, and was able, with a little trouble, to make myself agreeable in a way flattering to a fellow's self-regard who has had his disappointments in the service of woman, like most other people. The greatest bore in it all was when one happened to meet an acquaintance, and was led to mention, in a cursory way, that one was in charge of a party of ladies, never thinking that the venerable companions of one's voyage were about to sally forth, and dissipate at a blow that agreeable illusion. But indeed a man must be more hardhearted than I can boast of being,

ESQ.

who would grudge the trouble which gave those good creatures their innocent holiday. I don't mean to say I should be very ready to undertake it again; but I don't regret the three days.

And what a famous place Taymouth is, when one gets a little sunshine to see it by! A beautiful loch in front, quite by itself, and unlike all the other lochs; famous wood, unlimited shooting, and a princely size and style of place altogether. I should not mind going down there on the 12th, or any period presently thereafter, at the chieftain's pleasure-nor, indeed, of bestowing my leisure upon him, whenever he thinks fit to honour me with an invitation. I don't know а better specimen of composed and sober grandeur; and with all those beautiful glades and trees about the trout in the Tay and the deer on the hill-a man might manage to be a Marquess without feeling inevitably doomed to bore himself to death. I am not sure, however, that I don't prefer the Duke of Atholl's quiet cottage es

SCOTLAND is once more upon her trial. The poor old country bears a certain conjugal relationship to her richer neighbour, which is fruitful of criticism. The amiable comments with which a man's family and relatives are apt to receive his wife, and accompany at intervals her course through life, convey a lively idea of the manner in which the smaller and poorer country, received into reluctant equality with the larger, is assailed at the various periods of their joint career. Not that the husband regrets his marriage, or that any reference to Sir Cresswell Cresswell looms darkly on their future fate, but only that there is a certain relish in reporting the follies of all the poor lady's sisters and brethren, and that her own foibles show salient upon the calm background of domestic life. Such has been the luck of our ancient kingdom. Wedded, not without boastfulness like many a bride, she has had her struggles in the new family relationship, which has bound the hands but not the tongues of the two spouses. The best of married people are not without a certain satisfaction in the possession of a ready taunt, which may either aggravate or sub

VOL. XC.-NO. DLI.

due on occasion the other side of the house; and perhaps, while the present world lasts, this condition of matrimony will last along with the institution. In the happy espousals of the United Kingdom this amiable human element never was wanting; but there are occasions when it takes special force. One of these crises has just occurred, and the culprit stands once more at the bar. Her assailants are threefold at least; and what with the sneers of a skirmishing band of general literature, the grave direct assault of the Historic Muse in its most serious development, and the insane defence which aids their efforts, our respected and venerable parent, suddenly brought to a standstill in her respectable and busy career, and amazed at the face of battle which she has done nothing to provoke, is in a position to call forth the sympathies of all her friends and lovers. At the present moment, when her mind is much more occupied with Highland expeditions and country rambles than with subjects less agreeable-when, before the trees have browned, with no direful bondage of the season upon her freeborn limbs, her thoughts are bent upon the gleaming lochs

T