plete of all) she offered to call on us in
Edinburgh! Wasn't it delicious?--she is a girl of sixteen or seventeen,
too, and the latter I think. I never yet saw a girl so innocent and
fresh, so perfectly modest without the least trace of prudery.

Coming off Staffa, Sam Bough (who had been in huge force the whole time,
drawing in Miss Amy's sketchbook and making himself agreeable or
otherwise to everybody) pointed me out to a parson and said, "That's
him." This was Alexander Ross and his wife.

The last stage of the steamer now approached, Miss Amy and I lamenting
pathetically that Iona was so near. "People meet in this way," quoth
she, "and then lose sight of one another so soon." We all landed
together, Bough and I and the Rosses with our baggage; and went
together over the ruins. I was here left with the cousin and the aunt,
during which I learned that said cousin sees me _every Sunday_ in St.
Stephen's. Oho! thought I, at the "every." The aunt was very anxious to
know who that strange, wild man was? (didn't I wish Samuel in Tophet!).
Of course, in reply, I drew it strong about eccentric genius and my
never having known him before, and a good deal that was perhaps
"strained to the extremest limit of the fact."

The steamer left, and Miss Amy and her cousin waved their handkerchiefs,
until my arm in answering them was nearly broken. I believe women's arms
must be better made for this exercise: mine ache still; and I regretted
at the time that the handkerchief had seen service. Altogether, however,
I was left in a pleasant frame of mind.

Being thus left alone, Bough, I, the Rosses, Professor Blackie, and an
Englishman called M----: these people were going to remain the night,
except the Professor, who is resident there at present. They were going
to dine _en compagnie_ and wished us to join the party; but we had
already committed ourselves by mistake to the wrong hotel, and besides,
we wished to be off as soon as wind and tide were against us to Earraid.
We went up; Bough selected a place for sketching and blocked in the
sketch for Mrs. R.; and we all talked together. Bough told us his family
history and a lot of strange things about old Cumberland life; among
others, how he had known "John Peel" of pleasant memory in song, and of
how that worthy hunted. At five, down we go to the Argyll Hotel, and
wait dinner. Broth--"nice broth"--fresh herrings, and fowl had been
promised. At 5.50, I get the shovel and tongs and d