"The driver told us that the whole country belonged to a duke. He keeps it to shoot grouse in, in the fall of the year. The grouse is a bird like a partridge. They live on the heather. I saw some of them flying about.
"The road was very good. The duke made it, the driver said. We could see the road a great way before us, along the valley. By and by we saw some people coming. They were a great way off, but we could see that they were travellers, by the umbrellas, and shawls, and knapsacks they had in their hands. Presently we could see a man coming up a hill just before them with a wheelbarrow load of trunks that he was wheeling along. So we knew that it was a party of travellers, coming across from Loch Katrine to Loch Lomond; but we wondered why they did not take a machine, and ride.
"When we came up to them we stopped a moment to talk to them. There were two gentlemen and two ladies. One of the ladies looked pretty tired. They said that there were no machines on the side of the mountain where they came from, and that there was a party there, that arrived before them, who had engaged the first machines that should come; and so they were obliged to walk, and to have their trunks wheeled over on a wheelbarrow.
"Afterwards we met another party walking in the same way, with their trunks on a wheelbarrow. We thought that five miles was a great way to wheel trunks on a wheelbarrow.
"At last we came to what they called Loch Katrine; but it seemed to me nothing but a pond among the mountains. It was only about ten miles long. There was an inn on the shore, but no village.
"There was a pier there, too, and some boats drawn up on the beach. At a little distance they were putting together an iron steamboat on the stocks. The parts were all made in Glasgow, and brought here by the same way that we had come. The old steamboat of last year was floating in the water near by. The steampipe was rusty, and she looked as if she had been abandoned. The name of her was the Rob Roy.
"We were glad that the new one was not ready, for we liked better to go in a row boat.
"So we engaged one of the boats, and went down to it on the beach, and put our baggage in. And this is the end of my part of the account. Waldron is to write the rest.
"ROLLO."
* * * * *
"We all got into the boat; that is, we three, and some other ladies and gentlemen that came over the mountain about the same time with us. The wind was blowing pretty fresh, and the middle of the lake was very rough, and some of the ladies were afraid to go; but we told them there was no danger.
"The boatman said that we would go right across the loch, and then we should get under the lee of the land on the eastern shore, and there we should be sheltered from the wind, and the water would be smooth.
"I told him that I could row, and asked him to let me take one of the oars; and he said I might. But one of the ladies was afraid to have me do it. She said she was afraid that I should upset the boat.
"This was nonsense; for it is not possible to upset a boat by any kind of rowing, if it is ever so bad.
"The boatman told her that there was no danger, and that, if I could really row, I could help him so much that we should get across the part of the lake where the wind blew and the waves run high so much the sooner. So she consented at last, and I took one of the oars, and we rowed across the loch in fine style. We pitched about a good deal in the middle passage, and the lady was dreadfully frightened; but when we got across the water became smooth, and we sailed very pleasantly along the shore.
"The shores were winding and very pretty, and the farther we went the narrower the lake became, and the mountains became higher and higher. At last we came to a narrow place between two mountains, where the pass of the Trossachs began. The mountain on one side was Ben Venue. The one on the other side was Benan. The shores at the foot of these mountains were covered with woods, and the place was very wild. There was an island in the middle of the lake here, called Ellen's Isle. This island was high and rocky, and covered with woods, like the shores adjacent to it.
"This island is very famous, on account of a poem that Walter Scott wrote about it, called the Lady of the Lake. The lake was this Loch Katrine, and the lady was Ellen. She went back and forth to the island in a boat, in some way or other, but I do not know the story exactly. Mr. George is going to buy the Lady of the Lake when we get to Edinburgh, and read it to us, and then we shall know.
"The island is small and rocky, but it is so covered with trees and bushes that we hardly see the rocks. They peep out here and there. The banks rise very steep, and the water looks very deep close to the shore. We sailed by the island, and then the water grew narrower and narrower, until at last we were closely shut in, and then soon we came to the landing.
"There was nothing but a hut at the landing, and a narrow road, which began then and led down the valley. The valley was very narrow, and there were steep rocks and mountains on both sides. They told us that it was a mile and a quarter to the inn, and that there was no other way to go but to walk. The boatman said that he would bring the baggage; so we left it under his care, all except our knapsacks, and walked along.
"We walked about a mile down the valley, by a very winding road, with rocks, and trees, and very high mountains on both sides. At last we came in sight of a tall spire. I thought it was a church. In a minute another spire came into view, and two great towers. Rollo thought it was a castle. I said that a castle would not have a spire on it. Rollo said that a church would not have two spires on it. It turned out that both of us were mistaken; for the building was the inn.
"It was a very extraordinary looking inn. It was built of stone, with towers and battlements, like an old castle. The inside was very extraordinary, too. The public room looked, as Mr. George said, like an old Gothic hall of the middle ages. There were tables set out here for people to have breakfasts and dinners, and Mr. George ordered a dinner for us. There were other parties of tourists there, some coming, and some going.
"While the dinner was getting ready, Rollo and I walked about the inn, and in the yards. It was a very curious place indeed. Close behind it were lofty mountains, which, Rollo said, looked like the mountains of Switzerland; only there were no snow peaks on the top of them. There was no village, and there were no houses near, except two or three stone hovels in the woods behind the inn. Before the inn, in a little valley just below it, was a pond, such as they call here a loch.
"Mr. George decided to go directly on to Stirling, because it was Saturday night, and he did not wish, he said, to spend Sunday at such a lonesome inn. So we hired a carriage and set off. Immediately we began to come out from the mountains, and to get into the level country. The country soon grew very beautiful. The sun was behind our backs, and it shone right upon every thing that we wished to see, and made the whole country look very green and very brilliant. There were parks, and gardens, and pleasure grounds, and queer villages, and ruins of old castles on the hills, and little lochs in the valleys, and every thing beautiful.
"At last we came in sight of Stirling Castle. It stood on the top of a high, rocky hill. The hill was very high and steep on all sides but one, where it sloped down towards the town. The country all around was very level, so that we could see the castle a great many miles away.
"We rode around the foot of the castle hill, under the rocks, and at last came into the town, and drove to the hotel.