y to drop off; I thought
the gardener might have invited us to refresh ourselves with some of his
fruit after our long fatigue. One part of the garden was decorated with
statues, 'images,' as poor Mr. Gill used to call those at Racedown,
dressed in gay-painted clothes; and in a retired corner of the grounds,
under some tall trees, appeared the figure of a favourite old gamekeeper
of one of the former Dukes, in the attitude of pointing his gun at the
game--'reported to be a striking likeness,' said the gardener. Looking
at some of the tall larches, with long hairy twigs, very beautiful trees,
he told us that they were among the first which had ever been planted in
Scotland, that a Duke of Athol had brought a single larch from London in
a pot, in his coach, from which had sprung the whole family that had
overspread Scotland. This, probably, might not be accurate, for others
might afterwards have come, or seed from other trees. He told us many
anecdotes of the present Duke, which I wish I could perfectly remember.
He is an indefatigable sportsman, hunts the wild deer on foot, attended
by twelve Highlanders in the Highland dress, which he himself formerly
used to wear; he will go out at four o'clock in the morning, and not
return till night. His fine family, 'Athol's honest men, and Athol's
bonny lasses,' to whom Burns, in his bumpers, drank health and long life,
are dwindled away: of nine, I believe only four are left: the mother of
them is dead in a consumption, and the Duke married again. We rested
upon the heather seat which Burns was so loth to quit that moonlight
evening when he first went to Blair Castle, and had a pleasure in
thinking that he had been under the same shelter, and viewed the little
waterfall opposite with some of the happy and pure feelings of his better
mind. The castle has been modernized, which has spoiled its appearance.
It is a large irregular pile, not handsome, but I think may have been
picturesque, and even noble, before it was docked of its battlements and
whitewashed.

The most interesting object we saw at Blair was the chapel, shaded by
trees, in which the body of the impetuous Dundee lies buried. This quiet
spot is seen from the windows of the inn, whence you look, at the same
time, upon a high wall and a part of the town--a contrast which, I know
not why, made the chapel and its grove appear more peaceful, as if kept
so for some sacred purpose. We had a very nice breakfast, which