I spent three days at the Marquis of Breadalbane’s, driving in a barouche all over his park. There are nearly two thousand deer, besides eight to ten thousand more which he keeps in his forest at some distance from the castle of Taymouth. There is also, as something unusual, a thing to which every one here aspires, a herd of American bison. They are perfectly wild, and are kept on a peninsula, where they are seen through the gaps in the enclosure. Everybody there, Marquis and bison, looked as if they were bored. Their only pleasure, I fancy, consists in making people envy them, and I doubt if that is a compensation for the drudgery of entertaining all the world and his wife. From time to time, in the midst of all this luxury, I see evidences of petty stinginess which are extremely amusing. Yet, after all, I have met none but excellent people, who get along with me, with all my difference in temperament, without the least misunderstanding. I have just heard a story which amused me, and which I wish to share with you. An Englishman is walking in front of a poultry-house in a castle in Scotland one Saturday night. He hears a great commotion inside and outcries among the cocks and hens. Thinking that a fox has found his way there, he gives warning, but is told that it is nothing, that they are only separating the cocks from the hens so they will not profane the Lord’s Day. Before my return you might write to me at 18 Arlington Street, care of the Honourable E. Ellice. Your letters will be forwarded from there, or else will be held until my arrival in London. Good-bye. It is needless to tell you to write to me as often as possible. CLXVII KINLOCH-LINCHARD, _August 16, 1856_. I was not too well pleased with your letter, which I received just as I was leaving Glenquoich. You are aware that you have an impetuous way of looking at things, which makes you regard the simplest actions as impossibilities. Now, reconsider what I have said, and after mature reflection tell me yes or no. Send your reply to London, care of the Right Honourable E. Ellice, 18 Arlington Street.... I am beginning to be heartily sick of grouse and venison. The truly majestic scenery which meets my eyes daily still has the power to charm, but I am tired of wonders. What I can never cease to admire is the seclusiveness of these people. They might be sent to penal servitude together, and they would continue to retain their unsociable habits. As Beyle says, this comes from their dread of being caught saying or doing something stupid, or else it is due to their temperament, which makes them prefer selfish pleasures. Solve it who can.