terminate, but a close inspection showed that the trees apparently growing before me, were all upside down; so, what I had supposed to have been a little forest, was merely the reflection in the water of the trees on the opposite bank.

We next passed Loch Achray, a smaller, but no less romantic lake. The ride from Callander to this point is through scenery of the wildest kind. A house is seldom seen, and all appears to remain as it was centuries ago, when Highland chieftains held their revelries in feudal halls, and when the Pibroch was heard from glen and hill. At the head of Loch Achray, there is a very curious hotel, built in the form of a castle or stronghold, which corresponds well with the rough scenery by which it is surrounded. It has two towers, with narrow slits in the thick walls to admit light, and the interior agrees with the exterior, the dining-room being arched with oaken beams, and furnished appropriately.

At this point begin the Trosachs, (Troschen, bristled territory,) which extend for about a mile to Loch Katrine. Leaving the conveyance at the inn, and sending on my valise before me, I proceeded forward alone. At that season the foliage

was in its utmost luxuriance. As I walked along, there was nothing in the winding deep defile, except the road on which I traveled, to indicate that the foot of man had ever invaded this silent sanctuary. No hum of life was here, no living object in sight, no works of puny art to mar the grandeur of nature. A Sabbatic silence reigned around, unbroken save by the twittering of the little birds. I walked slowly along, drinking in the beauty of the grandest scenery I had ever beheld. The road winds in a serpentine manner through the narrow pass, while far above on both sides are rocks piled on rocks, in some cases well nigh excluding the light of heaven. To the left, at a short distance, rises to the height of twenty-eight hundred feet, huge Benvenue, and to the right, her companion in solitude, Benan.

66

'High on the south, huge Benvenue

Down on the lake in masses threw

Crags, knolls, and mounds confusedly hurled,
The fragments of an earlier world:

A wildering forest feathered o'er

His ruined sides and summit hoar;

While on the north, through middle air,

Benan heaved high his forehead bare.”

The best description of the Trosachs ever pen

ned, is in the Lady of the Lake:

"The western waves of ebbing day
Rolled o'er the glen their level way;
Each purple peak, each flinty spire,
Was bathed in floods of living fire.

But not a setting beam could glow
Within the dark ravine below.
Where twined the path, in shadow hid,
Round many a rocky pyramid,
Shooting abruptly from the dell
Its thunder splintered pinnacle;
Round many an insulated mass,
The native bulwarks of the pass,
Huge as the towers, which builders vain
Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain;
The rocky summits, split and rent,
Formed turret, dome, and battlement."

Were we to suppose this world the workmanship of many beings, (and who, when contemplating its almost infinite variety of animal, vegetable, and mineral substances, without the assistance of divine revelation, or proper conceptions of omnipotence, could conceive it to be the work of one,) we would conclude that this must have been the mechanism of the master workmen. The Trosachs consist of a narrow gorge between two ranges of hills, various in size, form, and height, and covered with precipitous rocks, bushes, and trees. The whole scenery is sublime; and its being so excluded from the haunts of men, so per

fectly solitary, adds greatly to the interest.

At

the western end, the ravine becomes very narrow. I passed through it, and in a moment Loch Katrine burst upon my view. The Loch here is narrow and winding, and is completely enclosed by hills, which give it a quiet, romantic beauty, that is perfectly enchanting. The water is very clear, and of an agreeable taste. I was the only tourist at that time, and, being rather early for the boat, I seated myself on the pebbly shore, and enjoyed with enthusiastic delight the beautiful view before me. I had not been long seated till a strangely unnatural sound broke in on the stillness of nature, and in a moment after a little steamer shot into view. It was the "Rob Roy," a boat of ten horse power, built expressly for conveying tourists over this romantic lake. Her officers and crew consist of but three persons-the captain, the engineer, and the steersman. lake is ten miles in length, and this boat makes three trips a day in each direction. A beautiful island on the right, near the entrance of the lake, is called Ellen's Isle, being the one on which Scott places Ellen and the old minstrel. The day was beautiful, and the surface of the lake was un

The

disturbed by a single ripple. Our sail lasted about an hour, when we were landed at a place called Colbarns. The distance from this point to Loch Lomond is five miles, and is performed in a double-seated conveyance called a droskey. The road is very rough, and the appearance of the whole country is as wild as that which I had previously seen, though less beautiful. After dining

at the hotel on the margin of the lake, about three o'clock I set off in the steamer Prince Albert. Loch Lomond is a larger and even more beautiful sheet of water than Loch Katrine. As we pro

ceeded onward, we passed the base of lofty Ben Lomond. This mountain is three thousand two hundred feet above the level of the lake, and the distance from the inn at its base to the top is six miles of continued ascent.

"Hadst thou a genius on thy peak,
What tales, white-headed Ben,
Couldst thou of ancient ages speak,
That mock th' historian's pen

"Thy long duration makes our lives
Seem but so many hours;

And likens to the bees' frail hives

Our most stupendous towers.