ed
Highlander upon the hills, there was something of ancient splendour
and by-gone homeliness mixed up together that may well have evoked the
exclamation of our queen, who, standing on the terrace at Drummond,
and gazing on the scene below her, uttered--"HOW GRAND!"

Now, unfortunately in many, if not in all these advantages, we have no
participation. Clanship is unknown amongst us,--only one Irishman has
a tail, and even that is as ragged an appendage as need be. Our
national costume is nakedness; and of our national customs, we may
answer as the sailor did, who, being asked what he had to say in his
defence against a charge of stealing a quadrant, sagely replied--"Your
worship, it's a damn'd ugly business, and the less that's said about
it the better."

Two doubts press upon us--who is to receive her Majesty; and how are
they to do it? They who have large houses generally happen to have
small fortunes, and among the few who have adequate means, there is
scarcely one who could accommodate one half of the royal suite. In
Scotland, everything worthy of being seen lies in a ring-fence. The
Highlands comprise all that is remarkable in the country; and thus the
tour of them presents a quick succession of picturesque beauty without
the interval of even half a day's journey devoid of interest. Now, how
many weary miles must her Majesty travel in Ireland from one
remarkable spot to another--what scenes of misery and want must she
wade through from the south to the west. Would any charms of
scenery--would any warmth of hospitality--repay her for the anguish
such misery must inflict upon her, as her eye would range over the
wild tract of country where want and disease seem to have fixed their
dwelling, and where the only edifice that rises above the mud-cabin
of the way-side presents the red brick front of a union poor-house?
These, however, are sad topics--what are we to do with the Prince? His
Royal Highness loves sporting: we have scarcely a pheasant--we have
not one capercailzie in the island; but then we have our national
pastimes. If we cannot turn out a stag to amuse him, why we can
enlarge a tithe-proctor; and, instead of coming home proud that he has
bagged a roe, he shall exult in having brought down a rector. How poor
and insignificant would any _battue_ be in comparison with a good
midnight burning--how contemptible the pursuit of rabbits and hares,
when compared with a "tithe affray," or the last collision with th