Balmoral, August 25, 1862
I went out at twelve with the two girls on ponies (I
in the little carriage), Bertie on foot. We went to see the obelisk
building to His dear memory: Bertie left us there, and we went on
round by the village, up Craig-Gowan, in the little carriage, over
the heather till we reached near to the old cairn of 1852. Grant
said: “I thought you would like to be here to-day, on His
birthday!”—so entirely was he of opinion that this beloved day, and
even the 14th of December, must not be looked upon as a day of
mourning. “That’s not the light to look at it.” There is so much
true and strong faith in these good, simple people.
Walked down by the Fog* House, all pink with heather,
the day beautifully fine and bright.
* Scotch for “Moss.”