Braemar, Scotland. September 8. We stopped at Leeds on our way to Scotland and spent two days with the Henry Appletons. He is the leading solicitor of Leeds, a man with a comfortable fortune made by hard work, a delightful home, and an interesting family. The young people were full of friendliness and sparkle. The whole family in type strongly resemble our Boston Appletons and the New York branch. There is nothing more fascinating than this study of types. When I saw the famous Gainsborough portrait of Lord Heathfield, the defender of Gibraltar, I realized how strong the Elliott type is. Mr. Elliott, at the Norman farm, might have sat for that portrait, and yet he has no tradition of his descent. How curiously indifferent our people are to these matters! Our next visit was to Sir James and Lady Bell; he is Lord Provost of Glasgow and owner of the yacht _Thistle_, which he brought to America some years ago. These are brilliant people. The last official act of Lord Rosebery’s administration was to write the Queen, asking her to make Mr. James Bell a baronet. They are simply and frankly delighted with this well-deserved honor. They are both Scotch and have a superb shooting property where we stayed for two days. The house was full of gay young people. Our last visit was to the dear Fergusons. Mrs. F. is lady-in-waiting to the Queen, and daughter of the Earl of Bridport. Their gorgeous country house with its enormous preserves is let to rich Manchester Jews for the shooting season, and the Fergusons are living in a little cottage on the estate. They took us over the great house and showed us the treasures of generations of Fergusons of Pitfour. At luncheon a piper in full regalia wearing the Ferguson tartan marched thrice round the table, playing on the pipes. We are now at Braemar, eight miles from Balmoral, where we have found “the finest air in the world”, much to our liking. Yesterday I saw Queen Victoria twice. I was sitting writing when I heard the clatter of hoofs, sprang to the window and cried out to the others, “The Queen, the Queen!” Two outriders in plain black liveries rode before on iron-gray horses, then came the black landau drawn by four fine dappled grays tearing along at a great pace. The Queen wore a black mushroom hat and a black woolen dress. There were two ladies-in-waiting with her. The resemblance to you is still strong. She is much better looking than her photographs.