I dined out only once at Glasgow, at the house of Mr. Davidson, a very rich don who has made all his money in business here.
Late in the day I went into town to secure a place in the early coach for Stirling and also a bed for the night, as well as to select some little Christmas presents for the Misses Hooker. In the evening Sir William had several friends to dinner, and soon after the breaking up of the evening party I took my leave of these kind friends with no small regret; my contemplated visit of ten days has been prolonged to just twice that number. And now, as we have fairly bid adieu to the old year, I must also bid good-by to you for the present, wishing you, not as the mere compliment of the season, but with all my heart and soul,—a happy New Year. The last New Year I well remember; several of its predecessors also I have had the pleasure of spending with you. I pray God we may be preserved and have a happy meeting before another new year comes.
JOURNAL.
Kinross, Wednesday Evening, January 2, 1839.
I left Glasgow at seven o’clock A.M. on the morning of the 26th December, on the top of a stage-coach bound for Stirling, so famous in song and story,—distant about thirty miles from Glasgow. I arrived about half past ten, in the midst of a heavy rain.
On leaving Stirling for Perth, I took an inside place, as the storm still continued, but it shortly cleared up, and I rode on the outside nearly the whole journey. The only place worth noticing, or rather which I have time to notice, through which we passed was Dumblane, which is just one of those dirty Scotch villages which defy description. If “Jessie the flower of Dumblane” lived in one of these comfortless and wretched hovels I’ll warrant her charms are much overpraised in the song. Here I saw for the first time a genuine ruin; that of the large and once important Cathedral, founded in 1142. During the short-lived establishment of Episcopacy in Scotland I think that the good Leighton was for a time rector of Dumblane. Just beyond Dumblane we passed the field of Sheriff-muir, and beyond this, at the little village of Ardoch, I passed, without being aware at the time, the finest and most entire Roman camp in Britain; we passed some fine country-seats on the road; had a long way the distant Grampian Hills, on which “my father fed his flocks,” in full view; and somewhat late in a fine moonlight evening, I arrived at Perth. As the stage which passed Arlary left Perth at nine o’clock in the morning, and I could not afford to spend a day here, I of course saw little of this famous town.... A pleasant ride brought me to Arlary at eleven o’clock A.M., and Arnott was by the roadside awaiting my arrival. I was sorry to learn that he is not a general favorite among his brother botanists; but although most of them possess greater advantages, he has but one superior in Great Britain, and in most departments very few equals. He received me with great kindness, and I have spent a few days with him very pleasantly indeed. He is a hearty, good fellow, and improves vastly on acquaintance. I was exceedingly pleased with Mrs. Arnott, who is exceedingly amiable and lively. On Sunday it stormed terribly, so that we were unable to leave the house. On Tuesday I dined with Mr. and Mrs. Arnott, Mr. Wemyss, the clergyman of the parish, another clergyman, etc., at Mr. Barclay’s, Arnott’s father-in-law, about six miles from Arlary. About one o’clock to-day, taking leave of Mrs. A. I rode with Arnott to Kinross, and leaving Arnott to write some letters at the hotel in the mean time, I took a boat to Loch Leven Castle,—the prison of the lovely and ill-fated Mary Queen of Scots....
On returning to the hotel I found that Arnott had picked up the dominie of his parish, and had our dinner in readiness. The expected coach arrived soon after, but was crowded. I am consequently obliged to wait for the mail which passes about two o’clock in the morning, and by which, if I am so fortunate as to obtain a seat, I may expect to reach Edinburgh before daybreak.
Waterloo Hotel, Edinburgh,
Thursday evening, January. 3, 1839.
This is my first day in Auld Reekie; and my first business, on sitting down by my quiet and comfortable fireside, shall be to give you a brief account of this day’s work. After taking a reasonable modicum of tea I spent the whole of last evening at Kinross in writing, until two o’clock, at which hour the mail-coach punctually made its appearance; and there was fortunately room inside. We drew up at the post office at Edinburgh at half past six in the morning (raining as usual). I took possession of a very comfortable, even elegant room, very different from the six feet by nine bedrooms of most hotels. This is the finest hotel I have yet seen; the Adelphi at Liverpool is not to be mentioned in comparison. I threw myself on the bed and slept for an hour or two. On waking I drew up the curtains of my windows, and had all at once a magnificent view of this picturesque city, which startled me. From descriptions and a few prints I have somewhere seen I find I had formed a very correct view of this city, as far as it went. It is the finest town I have seen or expect soon to see. It owes much of its beauty to its peculiar site, and to the manner in which the old town acts as a foil to the new. Immediately after breakfast I sallied forth, walked down the street, uncertain which of my letters of introduction I should first attempt to deliver; decided for Greville;[40] so I crossed the North Bridge, which is thrown not over a river but over a part of the town, into the old town, crossed High Street, passed the huge block of buildings occupied by the university, plain and heavy without, but the spacious court within very imposing; and a few minutes’ walk brought me to Dr. Greville’s residence, which looks in front upon a large public square, and on the other the green fields extend up almost to the house,—a complete rus in urbe. Dr. Greville received me very kindly, and seemed well pleased to receive Dr. Torrey’s letter; made many affectionate inquiries, and urged me to stay with him while I remained in town. I was predetermined to decline all invitations of this kind in Edinburgh, but found I could give no reasons for doing so that would not seem strange. Dr. Greville said he well knew I should be obliged to stay either with him or Dr. Graham,[41] who would never let me off; so, as I thought Dr. Greville would prove the most useful and edifying acquaintance, I accepted his invitation and promised to send my luggage sometime to-morrow. We set out to call on Professor Graham; walked over into the New Town, the squares, rows, terraces, and crescents all very fine; called at Professor G.’s, who was as usual out; left Dr. Torrey’s letter and my own card. Left to myself again, after promising to meet Dr. Greville at dinner at the house of a friend of his, I directed my steps to the Castle, which, crowning a high cliff much like that of Stirling, nearly or quite perpendicular except on one side, is visible from almost every part of the city.... Walked far away to Inverleith Terrace to leave my letters for Mr. Nicoll;[42] returned, dressed for dinner, passed an agreeable humdrum evening at a small family party; returned to the hotel, read two American newspapers (little news), found a good fire in my room, and sat down to make these desultory notes. As to all the rest of what I have seen I may have more to say another day. Good-night!
St. George’s Square, 12 M., January 4, 1839.