It was Saturday, 6 p.m., August 3d, exactly seven weeks and a day after leaving Brighton, when we entered Inverness and sat down in our parlor at the Caledonian Hotel. Up went the flags as usual; dinner was ordered; then came mutual congratulations upon the success of the journey just finished. Not one of the thirty-two persons who had at various times travelled with us ever missed a meal, or had been indisposed from fatigue or exposure. Even Ben had been improved by the journey. Nor had the coach ever to wait five minutes for any one; we had breakfasted, lunched, and dined together, and not one had ever inconvenienced the company by failing to be in time.
How shall I render the unanimous verdict of the company upon the life we had led?
"I never was so happy in my life. No, Aaleck, not even upon my wedding journey." That is the verdict of one devoted young wife, given in presence of her husband.
"I haven't been so happy since my father took me fishing, and I wasn't as happy then," was Aaleck's statement.
"Oh, Andrew, I have been a young girl again!" We all know who said that, Miss Velvety.
"I can't help it, but I don't want to speak of it just now. It's too sad." Prima Donna, this was a slightly perilous line to follow, for the heart was evidently near the mouth there.
"To think of it, Naig, I have to go home to-morrow." That was Eliza.
"Jerusalem the golden! it would make a wooden Indian jump, this life would." No need of putting a name to that, Bennie, my lad.
"Andrew, I've just been in a dream of happiness all the time." That was oor Davie.
"I never expect to be as happy for seven weeks again," met with a chorus of supporters.