It was a delightful day.  Lochness, and the road upon the side of it, shaded with birch trees, and the hills above it, pleased us much.  The scene was as sequestered and agreeably wild as could be desired, and for a time engrossed all our attention[418].

To see Dr. Johnson in any new situation is always an interesting object to me; and, as I saw him now for the first time on horseback, jaunting about at his ease in quest of pleasure and novelty, the very different occupations of his former laborious life, his admirable productions, his London, his Rambler, &c. &c., immediately presented themselves to my mind, and the contrast made a strong impression on my imagination.

When we had advanced a good way by the side of Lochness, I perceived a little hut, with an old-looking woman at the door of it.  I thought here might be a scene that would amuse Dr. Johnson; so I mentioned it to him.  ‘Let’s go in,’ said he.  We dismounted, and we and our guides entered the hut.  It was a wretched little hovel of earth only, I think, and for a window had only a small hole, which was stopped with a piece of turf, that was taken out occasionally to let in light.  In the middle of the room or space which we entered, was a fire of peat, the smoke going out at a hole in the roof.  She had a pot upon it, with goat’s flesh, boiling.  There was at one end under the same roof, but divided by a kind of partition made of wattles, a pen or fold in which we saw a good many kids.

Dr. Johnson was curious to know where she slept.  I asked one of the guides, who questioned her in Erse.  She answered with a tone of emotion, saying, (as he told us,) she was afraid we wanted to go to bed to her.  This coquetry, or whatever it may be called, of so wretched a being, was truly ludicrous.  Dr. Johnson and I afterwards were merry upon it.  I said it was he who alarmed the poor woman’s virtue.  ’No, Sir, (said he,) she’ll say “there came a wicked young fellow, a wild dog, who I believe would have ravished me, had there not been with him a grave old gentleman, who repressed him:  but when he gets out of the sight of his tutor, I’ll warrant you he’ll spare no woman he meets, young or old."’ ’No, Sir, (I replied,) she’ll say, “There was a terrible ruffian who would have forced me, had it not been for a civil decent young man who, I take it, was an angel sent from heaven to protect me."’

Dr. Johnson would not hurt her delicacy, by insisting on ’seeing her bed-chamber,’ like Archer in the Beaux Stratagem[419].  But my curiosity was more ardent; I lighted a piece of paper, and went into the place where the bed was.  There was a little partition of wicker, rather more neatly done than that for the fold, and close by the wall was a kind of bedstead of wood with heath upon it by way of bed! at the foot of which I saw some sort of blankets or covering rolled up in a heap.  The woman’s name was Fraser; so was her husband’s.  He