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Scotch hearts warmed to the belief that the Queen understood and admired Burns's poetry, and proud reference was made to the circumstance that during one of her Highland excursions she applied the famous descriptive passage in the "Birks of Aberfeldy" to the scene before her: The braes ascend like lofty wa'e, The foamy stream deep roaring fa's, O'erhung with fragrant spreading shaws, The birks of Aberfeldy.
The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers, White o'er the linn the burnie pours, And rising, weets wi' misty showers The birks of Aberfeldy. This summer, brown Queen Pomare, and the affairs of far-off Tahiti, had a strange, inordinate amount of attention from the English public.
From Stirling the tourists proceeded northwards by Crieff and Glenalmond to Taymouth; thence, keeping by the banks of the river, to Aberfeldy, whose birks he immortalised in song. Here he had the good fortune to meet Niel Gow and to hear him playing.
It means" but he never could or would tell me what it meant, when another officer said, "Madam, there is a Lowland saying to match it"; and this also I could never hear. Another night the words of a song called the "Banks of Aberfeldy" crossed my imagination, and a fat, rubicund man stood before me, continually telling me that he was "John Aberfeldy, the happy."
She left the mountains of Craig-y-barns and Craig-vinean behind her, and travelled on by Aberfeldy to Taymouth, the noble seat of the Marquis of Breadalbane.
Rickman,* who were to accompany him on the journey. They first proceeded to Linlithgow, Bannockburn,* Stirling, Callendar, the Trosachs, and round by the head of Loch Earn to Killin, Kenmore, and by Aberfeldy to Dunkeld.
I cannot tell you how this John Aberfeldy tormented me. After these three horrible nights, when I awoke with my tongue so parched I could not speak till a spoonful of lemon-juice was inserted, I asked Sophy to sing, and she directly sang, "Dear harp of my country."
Nor did the Hallowe'en fires die out in Perthshire with the end of the eighteenth century. Journeying from Dunkeld to Aberfeldy on Hallowe'en in the first half of the nineteenth century, Sheriff Barclay counted thirty fires blazing on the hill tops, and saw the figures of the people dancing like phantoms round the flames.
"Next morning wass the Sabbath, and I said to Janet: "'Wrap me in my plaid, and put me in a cart, and take me to Aberfeldy. 'And what will ye be doing at Aberfeldy? and you will die on the road. 'There iss, said I, 'a man there who knows the way of the soul, and it iss better to die with my face to the light.
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