Seven miles from Edinburgh we took boat and steamed over the beautiful Forth into Fifeshire; the sky blue, the water calm, the hills fine, and the corn golden. Before we reached Dundee, we had to cross another water; it was the Firth of Tay; one of my fellow travellers, who had lived many years in India, said it reminded her of the Ganges. (16th.) Had a beautiful drive to Aberdeen, through corn fields sloping down to the sea; their golden hue finely contrasting with the deep blue waters. The approach to Montrose very lovely—a succession of pretty cottages on one side, standing in gardens full of flowers, and the blue waters behind them. As we passed along we saw many gentlemen’s seats; the distant hills formed a fine back ground. The Dee was now the river in sight, when we lost the Firth of Tay.
After attending General Meeting at Aberdeen, Mrs. Opie proceeded to Stonehaven, from whence she says:—
I walked to Ury, a long two miles, but the walk is beautiful, and Ury is a lovely place. M. B. drove me to S. to take a boat and go to see the ruins of Dunotta Castle, but we sailed past it, and went out to sea to tack, in order to view a most magnificent ridge of rocks, where the sea fowl live. I was wrapt in a sort of devout astonishment at the size and height of the rocks—the highest on the coast—and pleased with the novel sight of the countless sea anemones, just under the waves, like a varied flower garden, pink, lilac, purple, white, yellow, orange, and variegated. Nor was the sound of the birds, as they winged their flight over our heads, without its appropriate charm in such a scene. I was too tired to visit the Castle that day; Captain Barclay dined with us, and was kind and agreeable. (21st.) The Laird with us. Saw the Apologist’s study; and leaned on his cane. Drove to Dunotta Castle. The ruins grand and vast, and the rock, of which they form a part, sublime.
Returning to Aberdeen, our traveller started again, by the “Highlander” coach, for Braemar.
Words can’t do any justice to the magnificence of the drive by the Dee all the way after the first fifteen miles. The Grampians, and “their dark Lognegan,” sung by Lord Byron in his first poems, defy description.
(24th, 1st day.) Went to kirk; interesting to see the groups of men and women in the highland costume, and children also. I was impressed and pleased with the whole scene. The lords and ladies sat in the gallery—I below. The sermon was excellent, the preacher evidently zealous—it was a keeping holy the sabbath day. Next morning I set off again, after giving good advice to the Scotch girl, Agnes Mackay, who waited on me.
The most remarkable objects on my way were the immense rocks and mountains around; the Grampians in all their magnificence! Oh! it was at times a fearful pass! the road wound round the edge of a precipice spirally, and there was no fence! (at least at the worst part there was none.) They were, however, so sublime, that I was sorry to part with them for tamer scenery. The Spittal of Glenshee is a desolate, wild, savage looking place indeed! nothing could make me like to abide there, except the wish to do good to some one. (26th.) Rose cheerful, and thankful, and hopeful. Drove to Craig Hall. The scenery is just what I like beyond all other. Steep, rocky banks, wooded by the hand of nature, enclose a clear, rapid stream, breaking over rocky masses as it rolls, and forming tiny cataracts. The walk is a mile long, and ends in a semicircle of rocks, shutting the valley in. It moved my envy more than anything I ever saw. I was sorry to come away.
* * * * From Blair Gowrie I went on to Dunkeld. At length the Grampians reappeared, and at first in bare grandeur, but ere we reached D., which lies sweetly at their feet, they became feathered with trees up to the top. * * What an agreeable surprise! Sir Charles Lemon is here—he tells me the Lord Chancellor will be here to-morrow; I hope to see him too; he also is on his way to Taymouth. It is a refreshment to see well-known faces anywhere—especially when alone, and far from home—but two such men! That is a treat. To bed, pleased and thankful. (27th.) Set off on my return to D.; next day left for Perth, rest and fire welcome, when I arrived—landlady a Norfolk woman, glad to see me for my county’s sake and my own, as she knows my works. (29th.) Went to see Scone in a gig. The Old Cross to be seen where the kings were proclaimed. Only a doorway remains of the old Palace; but the furniture and bed and cabinets all used in the new one, which is built of pinky granite, beautiful to my eye. I saw a bed and a screen worked by poor Mary when a prisoner at Lochleven, and her odious son’s bed, &c. Went next to Kinfauns, a beautiful place built of a white and better granite; but I prefer the other. There is a terrace here, and beautiful and grand wooded rocks to be seen from it, and from the windows, and the Tay glides through the vale beneath. The house too is evidently built and furnished by a man of taste and virtu. I am sure I remember Lord Gray, by his picture, an officer at N. when I was quite young—not out. I saw, and lifted with great difficulty, the sword of W. Wallace. My landlady sent me in, a Norfolk paper; I have cut out S. Wilkin’s affecting letter to show John Sheppard, if I see him at Edinburgh. (30th, 1st day.) Heard, from one of the waiters, that there were Friends opposite; wrote a note to invite myself to sit with them, as the man said they met privately. They received me, and we sat an hour and more, in silence; I think they expected I had a religious concern to visit them.
This has been a ruinous week! shocked at the amount of my bill, and I so abstemious too!
The next day I committed the great imprudence of going in an open carriage to Crieff, and got wet through; but I was a little comforted by seeing the paragraph in the paper on myself! * * * Thence I posted to Loch Earne Head, the most beautiful of drives—thence to Callander, but could not get taken in there. (3rd day, 1st Sept.) Embarked on Loch Katrine, and after visiting the Isle resumed our boat, and soon landed at a point whence we had a walk of about four miles, returning very wet and weary, but delighted.