the sources of the river Forth, whose estuary gave us shelter from the storm in the German Ocean. You may be surprised also to find here, among these wild mountains, some large waterworks, which look as if they ought to belong to a large town. So they do. The great city of Glasgow draws all its water from the lake to which we are going, Loch Katrine. Some persons thought, when this was talked of, that it would spoil the beauty of the scene. But it has not done so; and it is very pleasant to feel that town and country may thus be made to help each other-the hills and the lakes are as lovely as ever, while the town has a full supply of the purest water in Great Britain.

6. Keeping a little to the right, we pass the head of Loch Achray, and enter the Pass of the Trosachs. On your right is Ben A'an, on your left Ben Venue; but I do not think that you will look much at the mountains, the pass itself is so well worth looking at, with its wild flowers, tangled brushwood, and wooded rocks. And then, the sudden view of Loch Katrine, as you come out of the wild pass-the wooded island facing you, the calm bright lakelet, as I may call it, that is, the little piece of the lake shut in by the island and the hills, and the rich brown heather clothing the hills, shining in the autumn sun, so that—

There is nothing like this in England. English children, or even children in the lowlands of Scotland, do not know the look of Highland heather. When Johnny caught the first glimpse of it, he was silent for a minute, and then shouted out, 'This is a bit of fairy land, a fairy lake, and a fairy island!'

7. The rest of Loch Katrine is not, I think, so striking as this little bit of it. Yet the view of it from the heights makes one feel that the poet was right when he said:

'One burnish'd sheet of living gold,
Loch Katrine lay beneath him roll'd,
In all her length far winding lay,
With promontory, creek, and bay,
And islands that, empurpled bright,
Floated amid the livelier light.'1

IV. SOUTH-EASTERN DIVISION.

THE TWEED.

I. IN the South-Eastern Section, the great rivers are the Tay, the Forth, and the Tweed. We see the Forth below us, and the Tay is only a little to the north-eastward. But we will leave them for a

G. IV.

Ludy of the Lake, cant. i. § xiv.
F

little while, and take another long flight to the sources of the Tweed.

2. 'Why, we are just where we were before!' cries Johnny: 'these are the Lowther Hills below us, and there is our old friend, the Clyde.'

3. True, Johnny! the Clyde and the Tweed rise very near each other, on different sides of the mountains.'

'Like the Severn and the Wye,' says Green.

'Yes! Only these Scottish sisters never meet again! The Tweed, which we are now following, runs for a little way northward, but soon (as you see) finds an opening to the eastward, and flows in a straight course, through what is called Tweeddale, to the German Ocean.

4. 'We are now over Peebles-shire; next we pass into Selkirk, where you may notice smaller streams running into the river on both sides; the Gala on the left bank, from Midlothian or Edinburghshire; the Yarrow and the Ettrick on the right, from the borders of Dumfries-shire; then into Roxburghshire, where it meets its most beautiful affluent, the Teviot; and lastly on the boundary line between Berwickshire and Northumberland, past the confluence with the Till, to our old starting-point, Berwick-upon-Tweed.'

5. 'I like the Tweed,' says Johnny: 'there's

nothing so grand as the Falls of the Clyde ; but it's all pretty, except one or two dirty-looking towns, and they were not very large, and we soon went by them.'

'One of them was Galashiels, was it not?' says Green, where Tweed cloth is made; and another Hawick on the Teviot?'

6. Yes! But, as Johnny says, they are not very large places, though they are busy and thriving. We might linger here a long time: the Tweed itself, and its tributaries, especially the Teviot, flow by many places which are both remarkable in themselves, and made the more famous, because Sir Walter Scott (who lived at Abbotsford, in Selkirkshire) has woven round them the charm of his writing, both in prose and verse. I can only find room for four short extracts.

7. The first tells us how he loved the scenes round his home. Only, you must keep in mind that it is not the poet himself who is speaking, but an old harper, 'scorned and poor;' and the sorrowful tone is all a fancy:

Still, as I view each well-known scene,
Think what is now, and what has been,
Seems as to me, of all bereft,

Sole friends thy woods and streams were left;
And thus I love them better still,

E'en in extremity of ill.