THE TROSACHS.-LOCH-CATRINE.

"Grey Superstition's whisper dread

Debarred the spot to vulgar tread :
For there, she says, did fays resort,
And satyrs hold their sylvan court,
By moonlight tread their mystic maze,
And blast the rash beholder's gaze."

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In sailing, you discover many arms of the lake-here a bold headland, and there black rocks dip in unfathomable water-there the white sand in the bottom of the bay bleached for ages by the waves. In walking on the north side, the road is sometimes cut through the face of the solid rock, which rises upwards of two hundred feet perpendicular above the surface of the lake. Before the road was made, the precipice had to be mounted by a kind of natural ladder, like that described in the poem

"No pathway meets the wanderer's ken,
Unless he climb with footing nice

Some far projecting precipice;

The broom's tough roots his ladder made-
The hazel saplings lent their aid."

Here every rock has its echo, every grove is vocal with the harmony of birds, or the songs of women and children gathering hazel-nuts in their season. Down the side of the opposite mountain, after a shower of rain, flow a hundred foaming streams, which rush into the lake with the noise and velocity of cataracts, and spread their white froth on its surface. On one side, the water-eagle sits in undisturbed majesty on his well-known rock, in sight of his eyry on Benvenue. The heron stalks among the reeds in search of his prey; and the sportive wildducks gamble along the surface, or dive under the waters of the lake. On the other hand, the wild goats climb where they have scarce a footing, and take their sport on precipices which seem as if inaccessible to all but the eagle or raven. Perched on the highest trees, or rocky pinnacles, the winged tenants of the forest look down with composed defiance at man. The scene is closed by a west view of the lake, having its sides lined with alternate clumps of wood, and cultivated fields, and the smoke from farm-houses, concealed by the intervening woods, rising in spiral columns through the air. The prospect is bounded ⚫by the towering Alps of Arrochar, chequered with snow, or hiding their summits in the clouds.

in an attitude of defence; when the mysterious figure, springing forward at the sight, exclaimed, “Walter of Drunkie, spare my life—it is I." It was an unfortunate female maniac, who had taken shelter in this dismal solitude.-Spence's "Sketches."

In one of the defiles of the Trosachs, two or three of the natives having met a band of Cromwell's soldiers on their way to plunder them, shot one of the party dead, whose grave marks the scene of blood, and gives name to the pass. To revenge the death of their comrade, the soldiers resolved to attack an island in the lake, on which the wives and children of the natives had taken refuge. This, however, they could not effect without a boat; but one of the most daring of the party undertook to swim to the island and bring off the boat for his companions. With this resolution he plunged into the lake, and, after an apparently successful enterprise, was on the point of seizing hold of the rock to secure his landing, when a heroine, named Helen Stuart, opposed the attempt, and cut off his head with a sword. The party who witnessed the performance of this tragedy on the body of their comrade, felt little disposed to repeat the experiment, and cautiously withdrew.*

The rocks of the Trosachs jut forward in successive promontories into the lake, and thus occasion a similar number of narrow inlets. A terminal portion of one of these headlands, detached from the adjacent shore and covered with wood, will be recognised as the isle of the poem—

"Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine

The ivy and Idæan vine,

The clematis, the favoured flower

Which boasts the name of Virgin-bower;

And every hardy plant could bear
Loch-Katrine's keen and searching air."

The defile of Beal-an-Duine, where Fitz-James's steed sank exhausted under him, is in the heart of the gorge. This is the subject chosen by the painter for the accompanying illustration, and, poetically, is the spot where

and Fitz-James breaks forth into the following apostrophe :

"I little thought, when first thy rein

I slacked upon the banks of Seine,

That Highland eagle e'er should feed
On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed!

Woe worth the chase-woe worth the day
That costs thy life, my gallant grey!"

See the "Local Statistics," "Guide to the Lakes," and the works already quoted.

CLANS. PASS OF LENI.-BALQUIDDAR.

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The clans who inhabit the romantic regions in the neighbourhood of LochCatrine, were, even until a late period, much addicted to predatory excursions upon their Lowland neighbours. Those districts, situated beyond the Grampian range, were rendered almost inaccessible by strong barriers of rocks, and mountains, and lakes; and, although a border country, almost totally sequestered from the world, and insulated with respect to society. Under such times and circumstances, it was accounted not only lawful, but honourable, among hostile tribes, to wage predatory warfare with one another; and the habits of a rude age were, no doubt, strengthened in this district by the circumstances mentioned, and the fact that they bordered upon a country, the inhabitants of which, though richer, were less warlike than they, and widely different in language and manners. In those days might was right, and the watchword

But, in order that a connexion between the text and the subjects chosen for illustration may be preserved, our remaining notice of this district can only be brief and desultory. Much beautiful scenery and much interesting history must, consequently, be omitted; but, while we select the more prominent features in each department, we shall best enable the lover of Highland scenery to form a correct notion of its character. The choice, however-where all is beautiful, or picturesque, or sublime—is attended with no little difficulty; particularly where the artist, as in the drawings before us, has made it his study to combine an air of striking novelty with a perfect resemblance to

nature.

The usual conclusion to a survey of the Trosachs is to cross over the hills between Loch-Catrine and Loch-Lomond, embark on the latter, and then return southward by Glasgow and the Clyde; but reserving these as the subject of a future portion of the tour, we continue our progress towards the valley of the Tay. On leaving Callender, the road enters the pass of Leni, and skirts the left bank of Loch-Lubnaig, a narrow sheet of water about five miles in length. The scenery is bold and rugged; the hills approach the water so closely as to give the space it occupies the appearance of a deep ravine. On the east side is the farm-house of Ardhullary, in which James Bruce secluded himself while engaged in composing his travels in Abyssinia.

Passing onward, the Braes of Balquiddar-a theme well known in Scottish song-rise in gentle acclivities on the left. The valley is chiefly occupied by

• See Notes to the "Lady of the Lake;" "Statistical Account."