Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod--GREENOCK.
My Dear Isabella--I know not why the dejection with which I parted from you still hangs upon my heart, and grows heavier as I am drawn farther and farther away.The uncertainty of the future--the dangers of the sea--all combine to sadden my too sensitive spirit.Still, however, I will exert myself, and try to give you some account of our momentous journey.
The morning on which we bade farewell for a time--alas! it was to me as if for ever, to my native shades of Garnock--the weather was cold, bleak, and boisterous, and the waves came rolling in majestic fury towards the shore, when we arrived at the Tontine Inn of Ardrossan.What a monument has the late Earl of Eglinton left there of his public spirit! It should embalm his memory in the hearts of future ages, as I doubt not but in time Ardrossan will become a grand emporium; but the people of Saltcoats, a sordid race, complain that it will be their ruin; and the Paisley subscribers to his lordship's canal grow pale when they think of profit.
The road, after leaving Ardrossan, lies along the shore.The blast came dark from the waters, and the clouds lay piled in every form of grandeur on the lofty peaks of Arran.The view on the right hand is limited to the foot of a range of abrupt mean hills, and on the left it meets the sea--as we were obliged to keep the glasses up, our drive for several miles was objectless and dreary.When we had ascended a hill, leaving Kilbride on the left, we passed under the walls of an ancient tower.What delightful ideas are associated with the sight of such venerable remains of antiquity!
Leaving that lofty relic of our warlike ancestors, we descended again towards the shore.On the one side lay the Cumbra Islands, and Bute, dear to departed royalty.Afar beyond them, in the hoary magnificence of nature, rise the mountains of Argyllshire; the cairns, as my brother says, of a former world.On the other side of the road, we saw the cloistered ruins of the religious house of Southenan, a nunnery in those days ofromantic adventure, when to live was to enjoy a poetical element.In such a sweet sequestered retreat, how much more pleasing to the soul it would have been, for you and I, like two captive birds in one cage, to have sung away our hours in innocence, than for me to be thus torn from you by fate, and all on account of that mercenary legacy, perchance the spoils of some unfortunate Hindoo Rajah!
At Largs we halted to change horses, and saw the barrows of those who fell in the great battle.We then continued our journey along the foot of stupendous precipices; and high, sublime, and darkened with the shadow of antiquity, we saw, upon its lofty station, the ancient Castle of Skelmorlie, where the Montgomeries of other days held their gorgeous banquets, and that brave knight who fell at Chevy-Chace came pricking forth on his milk-white steed, as Sir Walter Scott would have described him.But the age of chivalry is past, and the glory of Europe departed for ever!
