Our sail down the Clyde was delightful, but I retain no recollection of any particular object. The picturesque shores and scenes have passed from my mind, like the impression from the surface of the calm pool when the ripple of a stone thrown in has subsided. I was, during the voyage, as in a soft and unbroken sleep, and we were landed, as we thought, at our place of destination, without having encountered impediment or adventure.

The steamboat, however, had not long left the shore, when a Highlander, with a huge staff, or rather piece of timber, that must have been valuable in the island, came towards us. We inquired our way to Ardghlass, the residence of Mr. Campbell, the friend of Mr. Woodriffe, and heard, with feelings better imagined than described, that we had been put on shore on the wrong island; that Ardghlass was at least seven miles’ distant, and that we had no chance of getting a boat for several days, as the couter, which plied between the island and the mainland, had gone that day to Oban. The situation of two invalids in such circumstances was no doubt enviable!

We inquired again what sort of accommodation we were likely to find till a boat could be obtained, but his information was not comfortable; we were, however, surprised at his gentlemanly deportment, so little in accordance with his mean tartan garb; and I was particularly struck by the politeness of his English, especially as I expected to hear only the dislocated Celtic gibberish in use among the lower classes who frequent the Lowlands.