discern, appeared vast, and formless, shadowy, and vague, and uncertain. All was fearfully silent, except the whistling of the winds, which seemed to sound mysteriously among the whirling and entangling clouds. As the mists and the showers drove along before the gale, now rising up, as from an unknown abyss below, and then descending as from above;-at one moment every object vanished, and all was blank —all empty, around, above, and below;-again, as they passed away, huge and shadowy forms seemed to appear for an instant, and, in a moment again, all was gone; adding, by the semblance of motion, to the ghostly and fearful images that seemed flitting and floating among the dark twisting vapours, and whose voices almost seemed to sound hollow in the storm."

From what I saw on the high grounds near Loch Lomond, I am confident that Dr. MacCulloch described from nature as accurately as words can convey impressions. At this time, the wind shifted suddenly to the north-west-the clouds broke on the western horizon-the blue sky appeared there-and in a quarter of an hour, the sun was shining clear over a magnificent landscape, with Loch Lomond at our feet, and Ben-Lomond towering to the sky on our left, crowned with a rainbow of most brilliant colours.

The elements themselves seem to teach the principles of practical economy in Scotland. Among our fellow-travellers on this mountain excursion, was a young Caledonian lassie, of good family-a Macgregor, or Macpherson, or Macdonald, I forget which-whose handsome Leghorn bonnet was defended from the rain, in the boat, by a compact shield of umbrellas there. On the mountain, however, the young lady soon perceived that the delicate straw which had been born and educated on the smiling banks of the Arno, would prove a poor match for the storms and mists of Morven. Like many a tall and gallant bark, the Highland nymph dowsed her topsails, and prepared to scud under bare poles ;-in other words she quickly stripped off her bonny bonnet, and placed it carefully under a corner of her plaid, leaving her long, black, and flowing tresses to act as conductors of the rain, during each shower, and to wave in the winds, during the brief intervals of fair weather. While this tall, thin, but elegant figure marched in the van of the whole line of half-drowned Sassenachs, with the firm and elastic step of a chamois crossing the glaciers of Grindinwalde, her raven locks streaming in the storm, she bore no small resemblance to her namesake, Helen Macgregor, marshalling her awkward Cateran squad to the Pass of Aberfoyle*.

And here I would offer a piece of advice to some of my countrymen

* I conceive that this trait of Inversnaid economy is much more picturesque and

and women, which may possibly be worth more than what they pay a guinea for to the London doctor. I would recommend those sickly maidens of the South, who

Never tell their love,

But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
Feed on their damask cheeks,"

to come to the Highland mountains, for change of complexion, as well as change of air. They will here find WATER enough to "raze out the written troubles of the brain," and blanch their memories as white as the driven snow-AIR enough to disperse the 'green and yellow melancholy" that hangs over their countenances and EXERCISE suffi. cient to transform their spermaceti muscles into something like the elasticity of youthful living fibre.

To these airy and aqueous mountains I would also invite a certain tribe of my own sex, who spend a great deal of time and money in the neighbourhood of Cavendish-square and Dover-street, swallowing large quantities of peptic precepts and blue pill, under the directions of Drs. Philip and Paris-who always keep a finger on the pulse, an eye on the tongue, and a sharp look out on every transient sensation in their nerves —a class of people who contrive to imagine real ills till, at length, they realize imaginary ones!-Let these victims of morbid fancy traverse the Highland mountains, for a couple of months; and they will learn to prefer oat cake to calomel, whiskey to senna draughts, and grouse to gruel! But I am myself " travelling out of the record," as we say in Westminster.

natural than that of Inverness, as recorded by a celebrated modern traveller, and Highlander to boot-Dr. MacCulloch.

"It was Inverness fair. The streets were crowded with little Highland carts and little Highland ponies, and stots and gingerbread, and ribbons and fishwives; and when the fair was over, the great ferry-boat was aground. Twenty damsels, and more, besieged the ferryman, and the ferryman vowed that the boat would not float for two hours. They might launch her if they were in a hurry for passage. No sooner said than done. To lift her out of the mud by force of hands, was impossible; but, in an instant, a dozen or more ranged themselves on each side, and at the word of command, two lines of native fairness were displayed in contrasting contact with her tarry sides, when, with one noble effort, they bore her on their backs (that is an incomplete word, too,) and launched her into the sable flood. O for the pencil of Wilkie! I thought that my English friend would have died on the spot: so bad a philosopher was he, as not to know that it was easier to wash the tar out of the other place than out of the clothes." It must be admitted that some of the Doctor's countrymen-and still more of his fair country women-have questioned the truth of the story about the Inverness launch, and have vowed to duck the narrator in the Ness, should he ever venture there again. "The greater the truth, the greater the libel;" but, after all, the story may be a very good one, though it may have no foundation in fact.

The tract which we traversed this day, is the classic ground of Rob Roy; and one of that freebooter's fowling-pieces is kept in a cot on the road, as a proof. A more substantial evidence, however, of Rob's former existence and power, is seen on our right, near Inversnaid, in the shape of a ruined fort, or rather barrack, erected there to check the phrenological propensities of the son of Cear Mhor, whose protuberances of combativeness and adhesiveness justly constituted him the leader of Caterans, and the follower of black cattle from Ben-Lawers to the Clyde. The fortress appears to be still more weakly manned than at the time Sir Walter Scott first visited it. When he applied to a peasant for the means of viewing the fort, he was told that the key was under the door, and that he would find no difficulty in his explorations!

LOCH LOMOND.

Descending by a bridle road, little less precipitous than the side of Ben-Nevis, we brought up at a good specimen of a Highland LOCANDA, romantically situated at the side of a waterfall, and on the very verge of the placid Loch Lomond; sheltered securely from the rude northeast blast, and open to the southern sun and western breeze. Here the "mountain dew," the oaten cake, the savoury herring, and unsavoury cheese, went their merry rounds, with a zest furnished by the pelting storm, the drenching rains, and the active exercise of the morning, little felt in the precincts of St. James's, even after the funereal progression in Rotten-row, or the formidable excursion to the more distant gardens of Kensington.

It was quite evident that the pallid beauties of Modern Babylon (several of whom were in the party) had already put on their travelling constitutions, and could bear the rains as well as the winds of heaven, without catching colds, rheumatisms, face-aches, or tooth-acheslaying aside the thousand heart-aches consequent on doctors, apothecaries, nurses-and undertakers! As a political economist, or a patron of the arts and sciences, it is not, perhaps, right to recommend a Highland campaign to the nobility and gentry of England, since it might deprive many able operatives among the different classes above-mentioned of half their annual incomes-besides increasing the population, already too exuberant. The "miseries of human life" have afforded themes for philosophers, poets, and novelists; why then (it may be said) should I suggest any measure that might prolong a drama, whose five acts are only five scenes of suffering ?

Meanwhile the long sable banner floating in the air, and the double

line of sparkling foam on the surface of the water, proclaimed the approach of a visiter, that has given mortal offence to whole tribes of lake poets and sentimental tourists. What? A steamer on Loch Lomond! Foh! The offence is rank, and smells-or rather smokes to heaven. How monstrous, say the modern Sternes, to hear the plashing of paddles, the clanking of engines, and the belching of steam, where there ought to be no other sounds than the bleating of lambs, the piping of shepherds, and the cooing of doves! How horrible to see smoke, and fire, and furnaces pervading the tranquil lake, instead of the small, white, and gliding sail, in keeping with the fleecy flocks on the mountain's side, and the pastoral crook on the projecting rock!

Now, it is all very well for poets, painters, and Syntaxes in search of the sublime, who, like Thomson, delight to bask on the sunny side of "some romantic mountain," for days and weeks, meditating on ArcaIdian simplicity and Utopian landscapes, which have never existed, except within the narrow boundaries of an enthusiast's skull, to declaim most eloquently and sentimentally against the steamer on Loch Lomond. For my own part, I think the said steamer is the greatest blessing that ever was conferred on the Lake. It enables hundreds, or rather thousands, every year, to enjoy the delightful scenery, who would otherwise never see it at all;-and it diffuses many hundred pounds, annually, among the meanest cottages of the surrounding country, with equal advantage to the givers and receivers.

Be it remembered, too, that we are not all poets, painters, and visionaries. It is very certain that the world will not wag, unless some people work-that those who toil for eleven months of the year have very little more than thirty-one days for relaxation and pleasure-that STEAM abbreviates labour, saves time, and enlarges the sphere of observation :-therefore, say I, blessed be the man who first invented

steam!

Perhaps this invocation of a blessing on steam was not quite unconnected with the contrast between the luxurious table d'hôte of the steamer, and the sordid accommodation, which we found in the Inversnaid Locanda. Not that I throw the slightest shade of reflexion on Inversnaid; for there, as almost everywhere in the Highlands, the best that the house could afford was placed before us, and at a moderate charge. But in the steamer, we had plenty of every thing-except WHISKEY, which, according to Breadalbane morality (afterwards to be noticed) was TABOOED-interdicted-denounced-denaturalized! We might drink nine fathoms deep of any thing but whiskey, which was an illegal, as well as irreligious potation, thirty yards from Inversnaid, but perfectly legal, and, if I mistake not, very palatable, a few feet from the

steamer! hereafter.

This is a nice distinction in morals;-but more of this

We are now steaming round Loch Lomond. This most beautiful of all the Scotch lakes might be compared to a peacock, whose long neck and sharp head penetrate among the deep recesses of the mountains— whose sides or wings are adorned with exquisite plumage-and whose "broad and fan-like tail is studded, not with the eyes of Argus, but with the Isles of Atlantis, and the gardens of the Hesperides. Loch Lomond must, perhaps, cede in beauty to Como, Lugano, or even Lake Leman; but it is equal to Lucerne, superior to Constance-and well worth a journey from London to Dumbarton, were the tourist to see nothing else before his return to the British metropolis.

A modern traveller, with great and real pretensions to pictorial judgment, has decided that-"Loch Lomond is, unquestionably, the pride of our lakes-incomparable in its beauty, as in its dimensions-exceeding all others in variety as it does in extent and splendour-uniting in itself every style of scenery which is found in the other lakes of the Highlands. I must even assign it the palm above Loch Cateran. It must be remembered that splendid and grand as are the landscapes of Loch Cateran, there is a uniformity, even in that variety, and that a sameness of character predominates every where. It possesses but one style. As to Loch Lomond, it offers points of comparison with all the other lakes possessing any picturesque beauty, for it has no blank. It presents no where that poverty of aspect which marks nearly three-fourths of Loch Cateran. With respect to style, its upper extremity may be compared with the finest views on Loch Awe. There are also points in this division not dissimilar to the finer parts of the Trosachs, and fully equal to them in wild grandeur *."

THE LEVEN.

Debarking from the little steamer that has swept its foaming circuit round the romantic shores of Loch Lomond-added a few wreaths of smoky laurels to the forehead of old BEN-regaled the senses of its passengers with mountain and lake scenery of the first order-whetted our appetites by the keenness of the air, and effectually assuaged them. by substantial salmon-we pursue the crystal stream of the Leven, during its short course, till swallowed up by the turbid Clyde at Dumbarton. Still we are on classic ground. No sooner has the cave of

*Highlands and Islands of Scotland. Vol. i. p, 209.