How often, dearest E-, have I wished you at my side to share this day's enjoyment! But we shall one day visit these lovely scenes together-shall we not? I have taken a few sketches for you; but the beauty of Loch Katrine is, of all that I ever beheld, the least communicable by the pencil. How impossible it is by mere outlines to give an idea of infinite detail of rock, wood and water! Even painting, with all her colours, would, I think, fail to convey the indescribable fascination that dwells about this lake. It has a fairy character of its own which is too etherial to be embodied. Perhaps, however, a part of this charm may emanate from my own previous associations. At least, I felt in looking on Loch Katrine the same sensation which Wordsworth so beautifully, so philosophically describes in that poem on visiting Yarrow, from which I have already quoted at the beginning of this letter: Adieu! "I see-but not by sight alone- "Her sunshine plays upon thee! LETTER VI. Loch Earne Head. ARDCHINCROCAN was noisier than ever. I had not a chance of dreaming of Loch Katrine, for not even a fortywinks' nap could I get till past sunrise. The house was turned topsy-turvy by a party of fools who arrived from Loch Lomond after dark, declaring they did not care to see Loch Katrine, and flew off again to Callender before it was well light in the morning. For what on earth do such people travel? We ought, however, to esteem ourselves lucky in having a room to lay our heads in; for some one told us yesterday that not long ago ladies even had been forced to have beds made up in the hall for them, and that, stepping out to see an eclipse of the sun at four in the morning, he was obliged to stride over the sleeping beauties. All day I was knocked up and lazy, wrote to you, and sketched a little, and in the cool of the evening (for summer is now really come in his strength) set off for Callender The chief pleasure of the journey thither lay in recalling the incidents of the Lady of the Lake; for the scenery-at least to mountaineers like us-is tame and poor. The Bridge of Joth, where the action of the poem commences; the rocks where Roderick Dhu stationed his men in ambush; Coilantangle Ford, where the chieftain was vanquished by the Knight of Snowdoun; these had more of interest for us than the moderate claims to picturesque beauty possessed by Loch Vennachar, which continues the chain of lakes from Loch Achsay. About a mile from Callender, we crossed a bridge over the Lubnaig, whence is a striking view up a glen, with Ben Ledi towering above in huge masses, and the river coming down in foam and ripple. Callender is a long, ugly, one-streeted town, in a flat and somewhat. swampy valley, the air of which seemed unelastic after that of the Highland country. The country which extends to the north-east, along the banks of Loch Lubnaig, is called Strath-vie. Here was the limit of Roderick Dhu's Cross of Fire, and on a small height in the midst of the valley once stood the chapel of St. Bridget, where the poet has laid the scene of Norman's marriage. But the inn was quiet-that was a blessing —and there were no uproarious gentry to murder "the innocent sleep. " We left Callender about ten o'clock, and proceeded up the glen into which we had looked the evening before. This is called the pass of Leny, and there is a flourishing account of it in the guide-books: but to us it was disappointing, and we saw in it nothing to equal the simple view from the bridge. At the top of the pass of Leny, you come upon Loch Lubnaig, with which I was well pleased. It is a considerable piece of water, and makes many turns amongst the hills. Its chief characteristics are loneliness and simplicity. On its banks is Arch-chuilery, a long low house, where Abyssinian Bruce lived, and arranged his travels for publication. By Loch Lubnaig we came up with a young man who was taking a sketch of the lake. His countenance pleased me, and I entered into conversation with him. "The mind fulfilled the promise of the face," and he proved a most agreeable companion for some miles of the way which we travelled together. He is a lieutenant in the army; and, his health having been impaired by a long residence in a tropical climate, he was now hoping to gain strength by the bracing air of the mountains. There was a gentle seriousness about him which was very attractive, and a highminded tone in his principles and sentiments, which formed a striking and refreshing contrast to the loose style of our Rowardennan friend's conversation. He told us that he never stopped at the large inns; and, though he did not say so, I imagine him to be compelled to that course by motives of economy. He was going to spend the night at a very small place of entertainment, about two miles short of this place. We also stopped there to take some refresh ment; and, when he saw that we could not but he struck with the wretchedness of the accommodation, he spoke for a while of coming on with us; but prudence and principle prevailed, and he soon shook off a faint touch of natural shame. By his mode of travelling, he must see more of the real manners of the people than we shall. He said that he made it a point to enter into conversation with the lower orders; and, in order to win their affections, he carries with him a large canister of snuff, out of which he fills their boxes, a ready way to every Highlander's heart. On this road we first saw a person in a genuine Highland dress,-a fine stout fellow, whose strength was made more conspicuous by the bent figure of an old paralytic man who accompanied him. They were most picturesque accompaniments to the scenery; and Copley Fielding would have placed them just where they were, with that back-ground of gray mountains blending with the stormy sky. The clouds, which had for some time been gathering on the mountain-tops, had now assumed so threatening an appearance, that we took leave of the lieutenant in haste, hoping to reach Loch Earne Head before the rain should come on. But hardly had we got half-way, when down it came in pailsfull, and we reached this inn in dripping and doleful condition. We changed our things, and then were shown into a room, where sat a fresh florid gentleman, of "a certain most uncertain age." His features were good, but sadly inexpressive, and a brown wig concealed the ravages of time. Cockney seemed he to be by his dialect, for he trans |