There disembarking, we ascended to the top of the island by rude steps cut in the rock, “A clambering unsuspected road "That winded through the tangled screen," passing in one place under a singular tree, which, like the banian, has sent out branches that have taken root and formed a little colony about their parent. Thus we came to a rustic building, which Lord Willoughby, the owner of the island, has with much good taste constructed in exact accordance with Scott's description of Ellen's "Sylvan Hall :”* "Lopp'd of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, "To give the walls their destined height, "The sturdy oak and ash unite; "While moss and clay and leaves combined The "rural portico"-" due westward, fronting to the green”—has not been forgotten. A living tree forms the chief support of the roof, and hangs over it with fresh green foliage. The interior has been equally well arranged to answer the poet's imaginings: "For all around, the walls to grace, "Here grins the wolf as when he died, “And there the wild cat's brindled hide." Some of the skins of the wild animals peculiar to Scotland, that have supplied their "uncouth tapestry”—“ to garnish forth the sylvan hall"—are extremely beau This has since been burnt down through the negligence of some tea-making tourists. tiful. Amongst the old armour is the sword said to have been Rob Roy's. The room is lighted by many Gothic windows, composed only of the interlacings of natural boughs, and formerly covered with parchment to exclude the weather; but silly tourists repay Lord Willoughby's hospitality by cutting the parchment into strips which they carry off by way of relics, and by scribbling indecencies on what they leave behind; so that still more has been of necessity removed. The floor is strewn with rushes. A long table, about which are rude seats and couches softly cushioned with heather, occupies the centre of the room, and at one end is a large fire place, where (oh, bathos!) parties coming to spend the day may dress their chops and boil their tea-kettles. I fear you will say that we were as cockneyishly inclined as the said mutton-eating parties; for, if truth must out, we had brought a basket of prog with us in the boat, with the purpose prepense of dining in Ellen's Hall, that we might spend the whole day about Loch Katrine : so, sending away our boatman, and bidding him return in a couple of hours, we sat down to our ham and chicken, which H- laid out beautifully on a snow-white tablecloth. Then, like two great children as we were, we must needs pour out a libation to the memory of Sir Walter, and break our wine-bottle-thenceforth too worthy to hold any meaner potation-on the topmost stone of the island. After these vagaries, we returned to wear away a sultry hour in the sylvan hall. I had brought with me the Lady of the Lake, a copy of which I kept at Archinerochan for the use of the romantic, and stretching myself on one of the heathery couches, I began half to muse and half to read. When I lifted my eyes, I could just catch through the rustic windows a glimpse of the sparkling lake, sending its diamond twinkles through the waving trees, and in the luxurious stillness I could just hear the rippling waters and the gentle wind as it crept stealthily amongst the boughs. The shadowy obscurity of the apartment, the utter seclusion of the place; all conspired to wrap one in a very dream. As now I read, and then again looked around, the events and persons of the poem seemed to be the only realities. From this abstraction a loud knock at the door aroused me, followed by the harsh voice of our boatman,-"The boat's ready, gentlemen!" Was it possible that he could have been away two hours? I was obliged to look at my watch to convince myself of the fact. We now again coasted about the lake, and visited some more of the beautiful lagoons that are folded in by its steep headlands and peninsulas. For some time we remained under the shadow of a great perpendicular rock that comes sheer down into the water, and sketched the little bay, of which it forms one boundary. Then again we quietly dropped along under "the ruined sides" of Benvenue, looking up at its vast crags and hoary caverns. Amongst these the boatman pointed out to us, bigh up amongst the scattered fragments that impend from the mountain, Coir-Wriskin, the Goblin's Cave, where Ellen found shelter when forced to quit the island, and "the wild Pass of Bealach-nam-bo," which is a vast chasm between two ridges of rock. Down this, it is said, Rob Roy used to drive the cattle, on which he had forcibly seized in the Highlands, selling them afterwards in the low country. To look at the place, encumbered as it is by huge blocks of stone, one would say that the feat was impossible: but that Rob was a clever fellow. Crossing to the other side of the lake, we sought out the promontory from which Fitz-James is supposed to have first gazed upon Loch Katrine. I say supposed; but our boatman made no such reservation. In pointing out the different spots about the lake, he always spoke of them as if the events connected with them by Scott's poem were matters of history, not of fiction. "Here, sir, you see Fitz-James came after loosing his way in the Trosachs. Here, sir, you're just in the very place where Ellen called out after her father and the echo answered." And forthwith the man shouted aloud, in order to give us auricular testimony of the fact, "Ellen Dooglas! Malcolm Graeme!" and then, most irrelevantly, "Rob Roy Mac-Grigor!" The idea of his attempting to teach us, in such a way and with such a voice, where the gentle Ellen woke the echoes, was irresistible, and away went a fine train of ideas that had just come into my head touching the nature of fame, and the realizing omnipotence of genius, in giving "to airy nothing a local habitation and a name." Our boat was by this time moored in the bay, "That round the promontory steep Leads its white line in graceful sweep," and we landed on "the beach of pebbles, bright as snow." Yes, I bear witness that the simile is not hyperbolical. The beach is bright as snow, and at a distance looks just like it. This effect is produced by its covering of dazzlingly white quartz stones, worn smooth by the action of the water. Having climbed to the summit of the promontory that skirts the bay, we threw ourselves on the heather to enjoy the splendid view below us. What a scene! "Loch Katrine lay beneath us roli'd, No time could have been more propitious for realizing Scott's description; for evening was now come with her softening vapours, aërial tints, and purple shadows, and the water was rich with the reflection of the golden West. Benvenue, dark and lofty, frowned before us. On one side we looked upon the bold promontories and luxurious woods of the Trosachs; on the other, far down the expanse of water, to the fantastic forms of the Arrochac mountains, which were half dissolved in light and mist. How beautiful it was! We staid and lingered till twilight came and one deepening shadow after another fell upon the water, and then reluctantly returned to our boat, landed again at the boat-house, and, looking back almost as yearningly and as often as our first parents when they were driven out of paradise, wended our way through the mysterious shades of the Trosachs back to Ardchincrocan. And so farewell to Loch Katrine! I may see, perhaps, grander things in Scotland; but this has won my love, |