esteemed. Some persons indeed complain that nothing is seen thoroughly or advantageously in these flying transits; but, for my own part, I like (if possible) to secure a sweeping and general survey of a new country, just as I like to run my eye over a new book, and then, if worth the trouble, to return to the more beautiful spots of the one, for the purposes of more leisurely învestigation, as I would to the best written pages of the other. If you have time to do both, well and good. If not, surely a flying peep is better than no peep at all. So thought I, as we shot upon our course, and, emerging from the river into the lake, which at the lower end is of the noble width of eight miles, beheld an amphitheatre of mountains and a line of numerous islands stretching across the expanse of waters. As we passed close under some of these, they seemed to form a complete barrier to our further progress, and then again the view opened upon us still more widely. It would be impossible, even were it desirable, to give a particular description of the ever-varying scenery through which we past; moreover the guide-books have sickened me of description. Enough to say that I was satisfied with all I saw. mountains are uncommonly varied in form, and, from their number, the combinations which they produce, seem almost endless. They appeared to me to rise more separately and abruptly than those of Cumberland-terminating in points, instead of subsiding in long sleepy swells. One jagged old fellow of a rock quite startled me by suddenly throwing off his nightcap of mist, and disclosing an outline fantastic as a dream. The sun, too, shone out behind The him, throwing him into strong relief, and (if I may use the term) substantial shadow. These accidents of light and shade are invaluable, and the first impression which an object makes upon one's mind and memory depends upon them. I dare say that this rock would have been comparatively poor with an unfeeling blaze of sunshine in front of it. Its form resembles that of our favorite Trifaen over Lyn Ogwen, in Wales, but it is on a larger scale. Ben Arthur is its more heroic name, but the common people have given it the humbler appellation of The Cobbler, from a rock upon its summit, which they fancy resembles the figure of a cobbler at work. I should have likened it to the mutilated Theseus in the British Museum; so would they, perhaps, had Theseus been as familiar to them as a cobbler. The outline of Ben Lomond appears not so fine from the Lake as from Dunbarton Rock. It is exceeded by Ben Voirlich, which stands strikingly at the head of the Loch, and seems "to centinel enchanted land." Rob Roy's Cave was a good deal talked about by the passengers; but it is only a small shallow chasm in a rock near the water. The weather was generally fine and clear during our voyage, with the exception of one or two hasty showers and a few wreathing mountain vapours, very appropriate to mountain scenery. The refection of the body was not forgotten on board the steamer (indeed, I think a steamer is always a sort of floating kitchen), and provisions in plenty might be had for asking for. The passengers were quiet inoffensive people, of no manner of note or likelihood in their appearance, with the exception of two (I imagine) Cambridge dandies, who went off occasionally to smoke a cigar. A young man with a red jolly face was the only sketcher beside myself. I was amused at the way in which he set to work. He would begin to draw a bit of rock ahead of us, and commence shading it in a sad smudgy style, as if he had all the time in the world to finish it accurately from the object before him; then, as we shot by, his face assumed a look of blank surprise—— his sketch was abandoned, and another begun precisely on the same system and with the same results. In the return of the steam-boat down the Lake, we hailed a boat which put us on shore at this place, Rowardennan, a mere hamlet. Only two other passengers stopped here, and we found comfortable accommodation at a small and quiet inn, not far from the water-side. A calm and lovely evening invited us to a ramble after dinner, and we strayed into a pretty bay just below the house, where the whole beach is composed of various coloured pebbles. How still every thing was! The Lake seemed to spread out its beauties for us alone, and to reflect the mighty form of Ben Lomond and the glowing tints of the western sky for our peculiar gratification. Sight or sound of other human beings there was none; so we were not afraid to be happy and childish, and to search for pebbles, some of which were as bright and transparent as the Surrey diamonds, which we used to pick up about our favorite Frensham ponds, near Farnham. I think, too, they will polish as well, and, if so, Loch Lomond will have the honour of sending you a ring or some such fairy favour. For the present, adieu! LETTER III. Rowardennan. WE devoted yesterday to going up Ben Lomond-I on the back of a white pony, which clambered up like a cat; H— and the guide (who carried a basket of prog) on foot. The top of the mountain was clear; but the day was generally gloomy, and sulky-looking clouds were resting here and there upon the lower ridges. I am of opinion that this state of things was favorable to the grandeur of the view. Aided by the contrast of some partial gleams of light, the obscurity gave as much effect to the rugged landscape as Rembrandt, by his dark shadows, imparts to his pictures. As we ascended slowly, we admired the gradual developement of the lake and of its thirty islands, which seem to have got together all at one end, as if for good fellowship. One of them, called Inch Calleach, bears a strange resemblance to a human figure lying on its back, and the dark yew-trees, which completely cover it, look like a funereal garment. The people of the country have, on this account, named it the Corpse Island; and, when once you have the idea in your head, the appearance is really very "horrible and awful! " Walter Scott, in his Lady of the Lake, speaks of this island as having always been celebrated for the growth of yew: "The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, On another island there is an establishment for the insane. As I looked at it, I could not help 'thinking that the noises at Dunbarton had been more fitly caused by some poor maniac, escaped from its dull enclosure, than by drunken merriment. The Corpse Island, the Island of Madmen-the sombre and savage scenery—all was calculated to "nurse sad thoughts." Monk Lewis would have revelled here. Near the summit of Ben Lomond, one comes upon what the guide-book calls a demi-crater; not a bad name by any means. The mountain bends round its arms, crescent wise, and descends sheer down in a precipice of two thousand feet. It is a very striking spot, and seemed to make a great impression on a party who came up with us as we were gazing down the gulf. "John, John," one of them exclaimed, "I had no idea what mountains were before!" The guide seemed to think his credit concerned in getting us to the top before this party; so, while they were gazing in rapt amazement, |