The internal economy of a yacht constitutes one of its greatest charms. Your cook, with only a little stove for which a shore cook would scarcely find any use, will send you up an excellent dinner cooked to perfection for any number of guests; and the steward! who can describe the work of a yacht's steward? I doubt whether Briareus with his hundred hands could do more than a steward does with two. At seven in the morning he is ashore for the milk, and the breakfast, and the letters, and the flowers; he valets half a dozen people, prepares half a dozen baths, brushes heaven knows how many clothes, gets the breakfast, makes the beds, cleans the plate, tidies the cabin, provides luncheon, five-o'clock tea, dinner, is always cheerful, obliging, painstaking, and more than repaid if occasionally he gets a _petit mot_ of compliment or congratulation. When he ever sleeps, or eats, I never can tell; and, far from grumbling at his work, he often resents the assistance of any shore-going servant. The introduction of steam launches has added very much to the pleasures of yachting, and to my mind has greatly lessened the advantages, if any, that steamers possess over sailing vessels. Every vessel of 100 tons and over can now carry a steam launch, big or small, at the davits, or on deck. You _sail_ from port to port, or loch to loch, in your sailing vessel, and when you have found snug anchorage, you 'out kettle' and puff away for as long as you like, enjoying the pleasure of exploring the rivers and creeks and neighbouring objects of interest. Everywhere this is delightful, at Plymouth, at Dartmouth, at Falmouth, the Scilly Isles, at St. Malo, and perhaps especially in Scotland. To my mind, the West Coast of Scotland is, _par excellence_, the happy cruising grounds of yachtsmen. I know of none like it--the number and variety of the lochs, the wild grandeur of some, the soft beauty of others, the mountains, the rocks, the islands, the solitude, the forests, the trees. Oh! the Oak and the Ash, and the bonny Ivy tree, They flourish best at home in the North Countrie. The heather, especially the white, the ferns, the mosses, the wild flowers, the innumerable birds and fish, the occasional seals and whales, the wildness of the surroundings, all combine to give it a charm that is indescribable. I have seen on the coast of Skye a whale, thirty or forty feet long, jump clean out of the water three or four times, like a salmon. Anchored close under a cliff in Loch Hourn, and happening to look up, I met the wondering eyes of a hind craning over the edge of the cliffs, and staring right down on the yacht. Go the world over, you will nowhere find so much varied beauty, above or below, on land or sea, as on the West Coast of Scotland.