Good society is the same everywhere—like hotels, as Edmond About said. It is only a question of more or less manners in the first, and more or less fleas in the second.
In Scotland fleas are rare. They would starve on the skin of the Scotch men and are too well-mannered to attack that of the Scotch ladies.
As to good society it is no exception to the rule here.
To study the manners of the Scotch, as well as to study the manners of any other nation, you must mix with the middle classes, with the people above all, for they are the real repository of the traditions of the country. You must travel third-class; there is nothing to be learnt in first. For that matter, there is nothing alarming about that in Scotland, their third-class carriages are superior to our French seconds.
The Scotchwoman is pretty.
She has not the sparkling, piquant physiognomy of the Frenchwoman; she has not the beautiful clear grey eyes—those eyes so dreamy and tender—of the Irishwoman. But she looks more simple and reserved than her English sisters, although her manner is just as frank.
I have often admired Scotchwomen of a pronounced Celtic type. They have large eyes, dark and well shaped, with long lashes; their features are admirably regular, they are generally rather under middle height, with broad shoulders and perfectly proportioned sculptural lines.
Red hair is common in Scotland. One sees more of it in Edinburgh and Glasgow than in the whole of England; but the skin is so fine, the features are so delicate, the complexion so clear, that the little defect passes unperceived or forgiven.