I spent three days with the Duke of Hamilton in an immense castle, situated in a very beautiful country. Near the castle, less than an hour’s journey, in fact, there is a herd of wild bulls, the last that exists in Europe. They seemed to me as tame as the deer of Paris. In every part of this castle there are paintings by the great masters, Grecian and Chinese vases that are magnificent, and books with bindings by the most noted amateurs of the last century. No taste is shown in the arrangement of all these things, and it is evident that the owner derives but little enjoyment from them. I understand now why a Frenchman is a welcome guest in foreign lands. It is because he takes the trouble to entertain himself, and in so doing he entertains others. I felt quite sure of being the most entertaining of any of the numerous guests of the house, and realised at the same time that it was an honour which I scarcely deserved. I have found Edinburgh entirely to my taste, with the exception of the execrable architecture of the public monuments, which pretend to be Grecian, justifying their pretence just as an Englishwoman does her claim to appear Parisian, that is, by having her gowns made by Madame Vignon. The accent of the natives is odious. I ran away from the antiquaries after seeing their exposition, which is really beautiful. The women are, as a rule, very homely. Short dresses are worn here, and the women conform to the fashion and to the exigencies of the climate by lifting their gowns with both hands a foot higher than their skirts, leaving visible their muscular legs, clad in half-boots made of rhinoceros leather, with feet _idem_. I am amazed at the proportion of red-headed persons I meet. The scenery is charming, and for two days we have enjoyed warm, clear weather. In short, I am tolerably well off, except that I should like to have you here. When I am bored, and the blue devils get the better of me, I think of our days of friendly and intimate merriment, and can think of nothing to compare to them. Upon reflection, write to me at the Douglas Hotel, Edinburgh. I shall have my letters forwarded, if I do not return soon. CLXVI _Sunday, August 3, 1856._ _From a country-house near Glasgow._ I am weary for you, as you used to say so gracefully. Nevertheless, I am leading a pleasant life, going from one castle to another, and welcomed everywhere with a hospitality which I can find no words to describe, and which would be impossible anywhere else than in this aristocratic land. I am getting into bad habits. Arriving at the home of these poor people, who have an income of hardly more than thirty thousand pounds, I scarcely recognised myself at dinner when I found there was no wind band and no bagpiper in Highland costume.