Wednesday, August 18.
A bright fresh morning, the hills slightly tipped with clouds. At eight o’clock we all went on board the “Fairy,” and went up the Kyles of Bute, which, as you advance, become very fine, the hills lying so curiously one behind the other, sometimes apparently closing up all outlet.
We saw Arran to the left, looking very grand in the distance. We have been turning about a good deal since yesterday, for we went by Arran and Holy Island, and then left Little and Great Cumbray to our left, and went up to Dumbarton and back, and on to Loch Long, and then to Rothsay, leaving Arran to our left; then, after passing Arran, we entered Loch Fyne. I, however, had a headache, and was obliged to lie down below, and only came on deck again when we were within an hour of Inverary; where the lake widens, and the hills on either side are very green and undulating, but not very high.
The approach to Inverary is splendid; the loch is very wide; straight before you a fine range of mountains splendidly lit up,—green, pink, and lilac; to the left the little town of Inverary; and above it, surrounded by pine woods, stands the Castle of Inverary, square, with turrets at the corners.
Our reception was in the true Highland fashion. The Duke and Duchess of Argyll (dear Lady Elizabeth Leveson Gower), the Duchess of Sutherland, Lord Stafford, Lady Caroline Leveson Gower, and the Blantyres received us at the landing-place, which was all ornamented with heather. The Celtic Society, including Campbell of Islay, his two sons (one grown up and the other a very pretty little boy), with a number of his men, and several other Campbells, were all drawn up near to the carriage. We got into a carriage with the two Duchesses, Charles and the Duke being on the box (we had left the children on board the “Fairy”), and took a beautiful drive amongst magnificent trees, and along a glen where we saw Ben Sheerar, &c. The weather was particularly fine, and we were much struck by the extreme beauty of Inverary—presenting as it does such a combination of magnificent timber, with high mountains, and a noble lake.
The pipers walked before the carriage, and the Highlanders on either side, as we approached the house. Outside stood the Marquis of Lorn, just two years old, a dear, white, fat, fair little fellow with reddish hair, but very delicate features, like both his father and mother: he is such a merry, independent little child. He had a black velvet dress and jacket, with a “sporran,” scarf, and Highland bonnet. We lunched at two with our hosts; the Highland gentlemen standing with halberds in the room. We sent for our children, who arrived during luncheon time. We left Inverary before three, and took the children with us in the carriage. The Argylls, the Duchess of Sutherland, and the others, accompanied us on board the “Fairy,” where we took leave of them.
The light on the hills was beautiful as we steamed down Loch Fyne. At five we reached Lochgilp, and all landed at Lochgilphead, a small village where there were numbers of people, and, amongst others, Sir John P. Orde, who lent his carriage and was extremely civil. We and our people drove through the little village to the Crinan Canal, where we entered a most magnificently decorated barge, drawn by three horses, ridden by postilions in scarlet. We glided along very smoothly, and the views of the hills—the range of Cruachan—were very fine indeed; but the eleven locks we had to go through—(a very curious process, first passing several by rising, and then others by going down)—were tedious, and instead of the passage lasting one hour-and-a-half, it lasted upwards of two hours and a half, therefore it was nearly eight o’clock before we reached Loch Crinan. We instantly went on board the “Victoria and Albert,” but it was too late to proceed to Oban; we had, therefore, to lengthen our voyage by a day, and spent the night at Crinan. It is a very fine spot, hills all round, and, in the distance, those of the island of Jura. The yacht had had a good passage round the Mull of Cantire. We dined with Charles, and went on deck; and the blaze of the numerous bonfires—the half moon, the stars, and the extreme stillness of the night—had a charming effect.
Thursday, August 19.
A beautiful day. At nine o’clock we left Crinan, proceeding to the right, up splendid passes, with myriads of islands, and such enchanting views, that I cannot enumerate them. We passed first up the Sound of Jura, where numbers of people met us in small boats, decorated with little flags; then up the Pass of Kerrera to Oban, one of the finest spots we have seen, with the ruins of the old Castle of Dunolly and a range of high mountains in the distance. To the left, after leaving Oban, we saw the Isle of Kerrera, and to the right Dunstaffnage Castle, whence came the famous stone which supports the “Coronation Chair,” in which the sovereigns are crowned at Westminster Abbey. Alexander II. is said to be buried here. We passed close by the flat rock, called The Lady’s Rock, on which a McLean left his wife, hoping she would be washed away—she was saved however.