wild indeed; but not more so than in the region of Rannoch." "Have you been in Rannoch, madam?" "Yes." "At Carrie, perhaps?" "No; but at the west end of the lake." "Oh! madam, you are Mrs. Murray; I heard you were there." (Glen Lyon and Rannoch, over the hills, are not at a great distance; but the carriage road is near 40 miles.) At this part of the conversation Mrs. Mackay appeared; and with infinite kindness pressed me to enter their habitation, where tea, she said, was made, and I must partake of it. I could not resist the hospitable manner in which I was invited: my name was announced to her, and I was soon acknowledged by her as a relative by marriage. An abundance of every good thing was then produced; the horses were fed, my servants treated, and I in an instant looked upon as one of their family. Two young men entered; the one Mr. Mackay's son, and the other, a son of the gentleman who owns the yew tree. I was introduced to them, and before I quitted the house, the door to the yew tree was forced open, and the way cleared for me to enter the enclosure. In short, had I been a queen, I could not have been treated with greater attention; and what was still more pleasing to me, with the affec-
