oked much at home, too, in the park at
Inverary, where I saw them next day. In Inverary I was disappointed.
I found, indeed, the position of every object the same as indicated
in the "Legend of Montrose," but the expression of the whole seemed
unlike what I had fancied. The present abode of the Argyle family is
a modern structure, and boasts very few vestiges of the old romantic
history attached to the name. The park and look-out upon the lake are
beautiful, but except from the brief pleasure derived from these, the
old cross from Iona that stands in the market-place, and the drone of
the bagpipe which lulled me to sleep at night playing some melancholy
air, there was nothing to make me feel that it was "a far cry to
Lochawe," but, on the contrary, I seemed in the very midst of the
prosaic, the civilized world.

Leaving Inverary, we left that day the Highlands too, passing through.
Hell Glen, a very wild and grand defile. Taking boat then on Loch
Levy, we passed down the Clyde, stopping an hour or two on our way at
Dumbarton. Nature herself foresaw the era of picture when she made and
placed this rock: there is every preparation for the artist's stealing
a little piece from her treasures to hang on the walls of a room. Here
I saw the sword of "Wallace wight," shown by a son of the nineteenth
century, who said that this hero lived about fifty years ago, and who
did not know the height of this rock, in a cranny of which he lived,
or at least ate and slept and "donned his clothes." From the top of
the rock I saw sunset on the beautiful Clyde, animated that day by an
endless procession of steamers, little skiffs, and boats. In one of
the former, the Cardiff Castle, we embarked as the last light of day
was fading, and that evening found ourselves in Glasgow.

I understand there is an intellectual society of high merit in
Glasgow, but we were there only a few hours, and did not see any one.
Certainly the place, as it may be judged of merely from the general
aspect of the population and such objects as may be seen in the
streets, more resembles an _Inferno_ than any other we have yet
visited. The people are more crowded together, and the stamp of
squalid, stolid misery and degradation more obvious and appalling.
The English and Scotch do not take kindly to poverty, like those of
sunnier climes; it makes them fierce or stupid, and, life presenting
no other cheap pleasure, they take refuge in drinking.

I saw here in Glasgow