June 29.—­Being Sunday we kept about the doors, and after two took the drosky and drove over the hill and round by the Kiery Craigs.  I should have said Williams came out in the morning to ask my advice about staying another year in Edinburgh.  I advised him if possible to gain a few days’ time till I should hear from Lockhart.  He has made a pretty mess for himself, but if the Bishops are wise, they may profit by it.  The sound, practical advice of Williams at the first concoction would be of the last consequence.  I suspect their systems of eating-houses are the most objectionable part of the college discipline.  When their attentions are to be given to the departments of the cook and the butler, all zeal in the nobler paths of education is apt to decay.

Well, to return to the woods.  I think, notwithstanding Lord Chief Commissioner’s assiduity, they are in some places too thick.  I saw a fine larch, felled seventy-two years old, value about five pounds.

Hereditary descent in the Highlands.  A clergyman showed J.T. the island of Inch Mahome in the Port of Monteith, and pointed out the boatman as a remarkable person, the representative of the hereditary gardeners of the Earls of Monteith, while these Earls existed.  His son, a priggish boy, follows up the theme—­“Feyther, when Donald MacCorkindale dees will not the family be extinct?” Father—­“No; I believe there is a man in Balquhidder who takes up the succession.”

June 30.—­We made our pleasant excursion to-day round the hill of Bennarty par terre, and returned par mer.  Our route by land led us past Lochore, where we made a pause for a few moments.  Then proceeded to Ballingray or Bingray, and so by Kirkness, where late ravages are supplied by the force of vegetation down to the shores of Lochleven.  We embarked and went upon Saint Serf’s Island, supposed to have been anciently a cell of the Culdees.  An old pinfold, or rather a modern pinfold, constructed out of the ancient chapel, is all that attests its former sanctity.  We landed on Queen Mary’s Island, a miserable scene, considering the purpose for which the Castle was appointed.  And yet the captivity and surrender of the Percy was even a worse tale, since it was an eternal blight on the name of Douglas.  Well, we got to Blair Adam in due time, and our fine company began to separate, Lord Chief Baron going off after dinner.  We had wine and wassail, and John Thomson’s delightful flute to help us through the evening.

Thus end the delectations of the Blair Adam Club for this year.  Mrs. Thomson of Charlton talks of Beaton’s House, and other Fife wonders for the next year, but who knows what one year may bring forth?  Our Club has been hitherto fortunate.  It has subsisted twelve years.

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