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hearts, let me just say that the beautiful drive 1 have last accomplish- 

 ed exhibits, as the prevailing natural production of Strathspey, " the 

 gay green birk," at present of course quite purple — that there is a 

 considerable degree of wild Highland grandeur in the immense slope 

 between Castle Grant and the Spey, which is thickly clothed with 

 Scotland's own pine — and that all along that winding, deep and rapid 

 river, from Grantown to Ballindalloch, " the alders dank that fringe 

 the pool " assert their peculiar right to the river's margin, and are at 

 this moment clad with a profusion of brown or yellow catkins. The 

 larch, which is planted in great abundance along the hilly slopes, is 

 now throwing out its " tassels red " and sweet virgin green leaves. Its 

 flowers are sometimes white — qucere, why } They are here, as in Ba- 

 denoch, though I have not mentioned them in my notes on that dis- 

 trict, a week or a fortnight behind those in Moray's balmiest spot — 

 Forres. I think I saw, about half way between this and Grantown, 

 one solitary flower of Anemone nemorosa. 



In the church-yard of Cromdale, three miles and a half from Gran- 

 town, lie the remains of M — C — , one of the sweetest flowers ever 

 bom in the Highlands, and transplanted to the lower part of the "Pro- 

 vince." I crave this passing tribute to the memory of one, with whose 

 survdving amiable sisters I am proud to say I am on intimate terms. 

 In April, 1839, I accompanied her remains from Nairn to the inte- 

 resting spot where they are now mouldering in silent dust. The wea- 

 ther, although it was later in the month than this, was keenly frosty, 

 and the interests of the vegetable kingdom were as far from my 

 thoughts as its beauties were from their summer perfection. At the 

 moment I write, nothing is wanting to complete the interest of the 

 landscape, but the green grass, the blooming heather, and the sum- 

 mer foliage of the forest. My yesterday's friend, Vanessa Urticae, 

 still flits across my path, enjoying Nature's hour of balm ; and that 

 big, humming, or, as we call him in Scotland, humming, fellow. Bom- 

 bus terrestris, wings his way as briskly as if summer itself were invi- 

 gorating his powers of flight. The beauties of Strathspey are great, 

 but they are "tame and domestic" in comparison with those of Bade- 

 noch. Let botanists visit Clova, if they will — but why not run a little 

 farther north ? 



Manse of Kirkmichael. — April 18, ^ to 11, P.M. Although half 

 asleep, I cannot resist the temptation I feel to teaze you with the very 

 important information that I left Dalnashauch to-day about 1 o'clock, 

 and after crossing the lower extremity of Glenlivet, proceeded up the 

 Avon through what is called Strathdown. About six miles of my 



