ears later Mr. Delane did write an article upon that
very subject. Yet it seemed to have very little effect.

Ah! if only the Higher Classes would learn to live as she lived in the
domestic sobriety of her sanctuary at Balmoral! For more and more
did she find solace and refreshment in her Highland domain; and twice
yearly, in the spring and in the autumn, with a sigh of relief, she set
her face northwards, in spite of the humble protests of Ministers, who
murmured vainly in the royal ears that to transact the affairs of State
over an interval of six hundred miles added considerably to the cares
of government. Her ladies, too, felt occasionally a slight reluctance to
set out, for, especially in the early days, the long pilgrimage was not
without its drawbacks. For many years the Queen's conservatism forbade
the continuation of the railway up Deeside, so that the last stages
of the journey had to be accomplished in carriages. But, after all,
carriages had their good points; they were easy, for instance, to get
in and out of, which was an important consideration, for the royal train
remained for long immune from modern conveniences, and when it drew up,
on some border moorland, far from any platform, the highbred dames were
obliged to descend to earth by the perilous foot-board, the only pair
of folding steps being reserved for Her Majesty's saloon. In the days of
crinolines such moments were sometimes awkward; and it was occasionally
necessary to summon Mr. Johnstone, the short and sturdy Manager of the
Caledonian Railway, who, more than once, in a high gale and drenching
rain with great difficulty "pushed up"--as he himself described it--some
unlucky Lady Blanche or Lady Agatha into her compartment. But Victoria
cared for none of these things. She was only intent upon regaining, with
the utmost swiftness, her enchanted Castle, where every spot was charged
with memories, where every memory was sacred, and where life was passed
in an incessant and delightful round of absolutely trivial events.

And it was not only the place that she loved; she was equally attached
to "the simple mountaineers," from whom, she said, "she learnt many
a lesson of resignation and faith." Smith and Grant and Ross and
Thompson--she was devoted to them all; but, beyond the rest, she was
devoted to John Brown. The Prince's gillie had now become the Queen's
personal attendant--a body servant from whom she was never parted, who
accompanied her on her