Prince Consort's death. After her widowhood, the Queen felt she could not go there alone, and she built another at Glassaltshiel, the house-warming of which she celebrated in 1868. When the little festivity, with its reel-dancing and whiskey-toddy drinking, was over, the Queen's Journal records, "The sad thought struck me that it was the first widow's house, not built by him" (the Prince), "nor hallowed by his memory. But I am sure his blessing does rest on it, and on those who live in it." Another of these little houses, a much smaller one, with only two rooms and a kitchen, is Glengeldershiel; it is within a short drive from Balmoral. In the neighborhood of these retired cottages the Queen could walk, accompanied by her friends, her children, and her dogs, without the fear of the tourist or the much-dreaded reporter before her eyes.
It must not, however, be represented that it was only in Scotland that Her Majesty found any means of social enjoyment. The following letter from Thomas Carlyle (first published in The Athenaeum, in January, 1895) shows that this was not the case. It is too picturesque to be cut up; the ill-natured and unjust references to Lady Augusta Stanley and Mrs. Grote must be tolerated for the sake of the rest of the letter. It would not be characteristic of Carlyle if it were bowdlerized so as to leave the impression that he was in charity with all mankind. The letter is addressed to his sister, Mrs. Aitken:—
Chelsea, March 11th, 1869.
Dear Jean,—Mary, I find, has inserted for you a small letter along with the one that belongs to the Doctor. I have nothing of my own in the form of news beyond what that "child of Nature" will have said.
All busy here,—March winds "snell" as possible (one's new cape not useless), but not unwholesome: fine, dry, and cold, instead of the wet, tepid puddle we have long had, and, in consequence, sleep a little better than then.
