The view of Edinburgh from the road before you enter Leith is quite enchanting; it is, as Albert said, “fairy-like,” and what you would only imagine as a thing to dream of, or to see in a picture. There was that beautiful large town, all of stone (no mingled colours of brick to mar it), with the bold Castle on one side, and the Calton Hill on the other, with those high sharp hills of Arthur’s Seat and Salisbury Crags towering above all, and making the finest, boldest background imaginable. Albert said he felt sure the Acropolis could not be finer; and I hear they sometimes call Edinburgh “the modern Athens.” The Archers Guard met us again at Leith, which is not a pretty town.
The people were most enthusiastic, and the crowd very great. The Porters all mounted, with curious Scotch caps, and their horses decorated with flowers, had a very singular effect; but the fishwomen are the most striking-looking people, and are generally young and pretty women—very clean and very Dutch-looking, with their white caps and bright-coloured petticoats. They never marry out of their class.
At six we returned well tired.
Sunday, September 4.
We walked to see the new garden which is being made, and saw Mackintosh there, who was formerly gardener at Claremont. The view of Dalkeith (the village, or rather town) from thence is extremely picturesque, and Albert says very German-looking. We returned over a rough sort of bridge, made only of planks, which crosses the Esk, and which, with the wooded banks on each side, is excessively pretty. Received from Lady Lyttelton good accounts of our little children. At twelve o’clock there were prayers in the house, read by Mr. Ramsay, who also preached.
At half-past four the Duchess drove me out in her own phaeton, with a very pretty pair of chestnut ponies, Albert riding with the Duke and Colonel Bouverie. We drove through parts of the park, through an old wood, and along the banks of the South Esk and the North Esk, which meet at a point from which there is such a beautiful view of the Pentland Hills. Then we drove, by a private road, to Newbattle, Lord Lothian’s place. The park is very fine, and the house seems large; we got out to look at a most magnificent beech-tree. The South Esk runs close before the house, by a richly wooded bank.
From thence we went to Dalhousie, Lord Dalhousie’s. The house is a real old Scotch castle, of reddish stone. We got out for a moment, and the Dalhousies showed us the drawing-room. From the window you see a beautiful wooded valley, and a peep of the distant hills.
Lord Dalhousie said there had been no British sovereign there since Henry IV. We drove home by the same way that we came. The evening was—as the whole day had been—clear, bright, and frosty, and the Moorfoot Hills (another range) looked beautiful as we were returning. It was past seven when we got home.
Monday, September 5.
I held a Drawing-room at Dalkeith to-day, in the gallery. The Ministers and Scotch Officers of State were in the room, and the Royal Archers were in attendance in the room and outside of it, like the Gentlemen at Arms in London. Before the Drawing-room I received three addresses—from the Lord Provost and Magistrates, from the Scotch Church, and from the Universities of St. Andrews, Glasgow, and Edinburgh—to which I read answers. Albert received his just after I did mine, and read his answers beautifully.