Next morning before we were up came a note from Lord Breadalbane urging us to come immediately to the Castle. . . . Taymouth Castle, though not more than fifty years old, has the air of an old feudal castle. . . . As we were ushered up the magnificent staircase through first a large antechamber, then through a superb hall with lofty ceiling glowing with armorial bearings, and with the most light and delicate carving on every part of the oaken panelling, then through a long gallery, of heavier carving filled with fine old cabinets, into the library, it seemed to me that the whole Castle was one of those magical delusions that one reads of in Fairy Tales, so strange did it seem to find such princely magnificence all alone amid such wild and solitary scenes. I had always the feeling that it would suddenly vanish, at some wave of an enchanter’s wand, as it must have arisen also. The library is by far the finest room I ever saw. Its windows and arches and doorways are all of a fine carved Gothic open work as light as gossamer. One door which he lately added cost a thousand pounds, the door alone, not the doorway, so you can judge of the exquisite workmanship. Here Lady Breadalbane joined us, whom I had never before met. . . . During dinner the piper in full costume was playing the pibroch in a gallery outside the window, and after he had done a band, also in full Highland dress, played some of the Italian, German as well as Scotch music, at just an agreeable distance. I have seen nothing in England which compares in splendor with the state which is kept up here. We passed Wednesday and Thursday here most agreeably, and we rode or walked during the whole days. Lord Breadalbane, by the way, has just been appointed Lord High Chamberlain to the Queen in place of Lord Spencer. I am glad of this because we are brought often in contact with the Lord Chamberlain, but it is very strange to me that a man who lives like a king, and through whose dominions we travelled a hundred miles from the German Ocean to the Atlantic, can be Chamberlain to any Queen. These feudal subordinations we republicans cannot understand. . . . We stopped at the little town of Oban. After reading our letters and getting a dinner, we went out just before sunset for a walk.