In the Highlands. 307 



time. Even Cromwell's Ironsides met with a rude 

 check in its savage glens from the men of Athol. Do 

 you see rugged Ben Alder yonder, the highest of the 

 group that looks down into the still waters of the lake ? 

 In its recesses is the cave where Prince Charlie was 

 hidden by Cluny Macpherson. 



The gathering of the night shadows warn us that we 

 must seek shelter, and in a few minutes we are housed 

 in the queer little inn at Dalwhinnie. A bright fire was 

 made, and we were as gay as larks at dinner. I am sure 

 nothing could surprise Americans more than the dinners 

 and meals generally which were given us even in such 

 out-of-the-way stations as this. Everything is good, 

 well-cooked, and nicely served. It is astonishing what 

 a good dinner and a glass of genuine old claret does for 

 a party after such a long day's drive and a climb. 



Reassembling after dinner in our neat little parlor, 

 the Stars and Stripes displayed as usual over the mantel, 

 we were all as fresh and bright as if we had newly risen, 

 and were in for a frolic. The incidents of the day gave 

 us plenty to talk about — the falls, the glen, that moun- 

 tain blue, the lake, and oh ! that first dazzling glint of 

 purple heather upon the high rock in the glen which 

 drew forth such exclamations ! A little patch it was 

 which, having caught more of the sunshine there than 

 that upon the moors, had burst before it into the purple, 

 and given to the most of us for the first time ample 

 proof of the rich, glorious beauty of that famous plant. 



