we reached Hamilton, and William had some
difficulty in driving the tired horse through the town. At the inn they
hesitated about being able to give us beds, the house being
brim-full--lights at every window. We were rather alarmed for our
accommodations during the rest of the tour, supposing the house to be
filled with _tourists_; but they were in general only regular travellers
for out of the main road from town to town we saw scarcely a carriage,
and the inns were empty. There was nothing remarkable in the treatment
we met with at this inn, except the lazy impertinence of the waiter. It
was a townish place, with a great larder set out; the house throughout
dirty.

* * * * *

_Monday_, _August_ 22_d_.--Immediately after breakfast walked to the Duke
of Hamilton's house to view the picture-gallery, chiefly the famous
picture of Daniel in the Lions' Den, by Rubens. It is a large building,
without grandeur, a heavy, lumpish mass, after the fashion of the
Hopetoun H, {45} only five times the size, and with longer legs, which
makes it gloomy. We entered the gate, passed the porter's lodge, where
we saw nobody, and stopped at the front door, as William had done two
years before with Sir William Rush's family. We were met by a little
mean-looking man, shabbily dressed, out of livery, who, we found, was the
porter. After scanning us over, he told us that we ought not to have
come to that door. We said we were sorry for the mistake, but as one of
our party had been there two years before, and was admitted by the same
entrance, we had supposed it was the regular way. After many
hesitations, and having kept us five minutes waiting in the large hall,
while he went to consult with the housekeeper, he informed us that we
could not be admitted at that time, the housekeeper being unwell; but
that we might return in an hour: he then conducted us through long gloomy
passages to an obscure door at the corner of the house. We asked if we
might be permitted to walk in the park in the meantime; and he told us
that this would not be agreeable to the Duke's family. We returned to
the inn discontented enough, but resolved not to waste an hour, if there
were anything else in the neighbourhood worth seeing. The waiter told us
there was a curious place called Baroncleugh, with gardens cut out in
rocks, and we determined to go thither. We had to walk through the town,
which may be about as large as Pe