as a preacher and a clergyman, but unhappily Mr. Peel had previously put himself into the hands of Sir George Murray, who applied to Sir Peter his brother, who naturally applied to certain leaders of the Church at Edinburgh, and these reverend gentlemen have recommended that the church which the minister desired to fill up on public grounds should be bestowed on a boy,[228] the nephew of one of their number, of whom the best that can be said is that nothing is known, since he has only been a few months in orders.  This comes of kith, kin, and ally, but Peel shall know of it, and may perhaps judge for himself another time.

June 27.—­I came out after Court to Blair Adam, with our excellent friend the Rev. John Thomson of Duddingston, so modest and so accomplished;—­delightful drive and passage at the ferry.  We found at Blair Adam the C.C. and family, Admiral Adam and lady, James Thomson of Charlton, and Miss T., Will Clerk, and last, not least, Lord Chief Baron Shepherd—­all in high spirits for our excursions.

Thomson described to me a fine dungeon in the old tower at Cassillis in Ayrshire.  There is an outer and inner vaulted [chamber], each secured with iron doors.  At the upper end of the innermost are two great stones or blocks to which the staples and chains used in securing the prisoners are still attached.  Between these stone seats is an opening like the mouth of a still deeper dungeon.  The entrance descends like the mouth of a draw-well or shaft of a mine, and deep below is heard the sullen roar of the river Doon, one branch of which, passing through the bottom of the shaft, has probably swept away the body of many a captive, whose body after death may have been thus summarily disposed of.  I may find use for such a place—­Story of [Kittleclarkie?]

June 28.—­Off we go to Castle Campbell after breakfast, i.e. Will Clerk, Admiral Adam, J. Thomson, and myself.  Tremendous hot is the day, and the steep ascent of the Castle, which rises for two miles up a rugged and broken path, was fatiguing enough, yet not so much so as the streets in London.  Castle Campbell is unaltered; the window, of which the disjointed stone projects at an angle from the wall, and seems at the point of falling, has still found power to resist the laws of gravitation.  Whoever built that tottering piece of masonry has been long in a forgotten grave, and yet what he has made seems to survive in spite of nature itself.  The curious cleft called Kemp’s Score, which gave the garrison access to the water in case of siege, is obviously natural, but had been improved by steps, now choked up.  A girl who came with us recollected she had shown me the way down to the bottom of this terrible gulf seven years ago.  I am not able for it now.

    “Wont to do’s awa frae me,
    Frae silly auld John Ochiltree."[229]