Here among the Scotch lakes and mountains Mr. Stanton and I were traveling alone for the first time since our marriage, and as we both enjoyed walking, we made many excursions on foot to points that could not be reached in any other way.  We spent some time among the Grampian Hills, so familiar to every schoolboy, walking, and riding about on donkeys.  We sailed up and down Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond.  My husband was writing letters for some New York newspapers on the entire trip, and aimed to get exact knowledge of all we saw; thus I had the advantage of the information he gathered.  On these long tramps I wore a short dress, reaching just below the knee, of dark-blue cloth, a military cap of the same material that shaded my eyes, and a pair of long boots, made on the masculine pattern then generally worn—­the most easy style for walking, as the pressure is equal on the whole foot and the ankle has free play.  Thus equipped, and early trained by my good brother-in-law to long walks, I found no difficulty in keeping pace with my husband.

Being self-reliant and venturesome in our explorations, we occasionally found ourselves involved in grave difficulties by refusing to take a guide.  For instance, we decided to go to the top of Ben Nevis alone.  It looked to us a straightforward piece of business to walk up a mountain side on a bee line, and so, in the face of repeated warnings by our host, we started.  We knew nothing of zigzag paths to avoid the rocks, the springs, and swamps; in fact we supposed all mountains smooth and dry, like our native hills that we were accustomed to climb.  The landlord shook his head and smiled when we told him we should return at noon to dinner, and we smiled, too, thinking he placed a low estimate on our capacity for walking.  But we had not gone far when we discovered the difficulties ahead.  Some places were so steep that I had to hold on to my companion’s coat tails, while he held on to rocks and twigs, or braced himself with a heavy cane.  By the time we were halfway up we were in a dripping perspiration, our feet were soaking wet, and we were really too tired to proceed.  But, after starting with such supreme confidence in ourselves, we were ashamed to confess our fatigue to each other, and much more to return and verify all the prognostications of the host and his guides.  So we determined to push on and do what we had proposed.  With the prospect of a magnificent view and an hour’s delicious rest on the top, we started with renewed courage.  A steady climb of six hours brought us to the goal of promise; our ascent was accomplished.  But alas! it was impossible to stop there—­the cold wind chilled us to the bone in a minute.  So we took one glance at the world below and hurried down the south side to get the mountain between us and the cold northeaster.