IN THE HIGHLANDS 7 



our butler, Sim Eachainn (Simon Hector), cut off many 

 of the black and white tails and presented them to me 

 as toys ! Then we were stuck for some days in a dense 

 fog at the mouth of the Thames. It was a never-to-be- 

 forgotten voyage, though it was not as long as a voyage 

 my uncle took as a young man, when he was seventeen 

 days in a smack sailing between London and Inverness, 

 and even then he never reached it, but had to disem- 

 bark at Findhorn. 



On our return journey north my mother wished to 

 go by land, but it was, if possible, even less successful. 

 I cannot remember how we got to Perth, but from there 

 we travelled by the Highland stage-coach. It was 

 mid-winter, and we managed to get as far as Blair 

 Atholl, when a violent snowstorm started, and a few 

 miles beyond the village the coach was suddenly brought 

 to a standstill by trees being blown across the road 

 both in front and behind us. A runner was despatched 

 for a squad of men with saws and axes, but the blizzard 

 was so severe that by the time help came the coach 

 could not be moved on account of the depth of the snow, 

 and we got back to Blair Inn by the help of a very high- 

 wheeled dog-cart. How well I remember being lifted 

 by our faithful Simon and carried in his arms to the trap ! 

 After being kept prisoners at Blair for several days, we 

 managed to get back to Perth, whence we got to Aberdeen 

 by the newly opened railway, and from there to Inverness 

 by steamboat . Thus the land j ourney was not altogether 

 a success, and we had to fall back upon the sea after all 

 to get us north. 



My father in his will had appointed my mother and 



