Chapter II: Part 2

It remains to notice some physical peculiarities of this loch. Although situated at an elevation of several hundred feet above sea-level, its temperature is so equal that the water is never known to freeze, and even the stream that flows from it never shows ice on its surface till it has run several miles into bleaker regions. The depth of the water is at some places six hundred feet, and as it lies in the immediate region of earthquake in Scotland, it is allowable to conjecture that some hidden fire of nature far below keeps the water just a point or two above ordinary heat, and thus produces the phenomenon stated. There are trout in the loch, and leave to fish can readily be obtained at either end, as the hotel keepers have boats upon the loch.

LOCH TAY.

Many of the lochs of which we have spoken have the advantage of Loch Tay as regards the number of their visitors, and their repute in distant parts. But in no case is greater beauty to be seen than here, and no spot in Scotland will more fully repay the labour of travelling to see it. It lies surrounded with splendid hills, Ben Lawers on the north proudly towering over the scene. It is very finely wooded over all its banks, and its slightly irregular form creates change and variety at every mile of the way. It is the merit of Loch Tay that now the visitor has 'three courses' before him, like a great statesman of our day. When he leaves Killin station at the upper end, or Aberfeldy station at the lower end, he may follow the coach route on the north side, or he may prefer the less public road on the south side, or he may sail on the bosom of the water in the steamer, the _Lady of the Lake_, launched in 1882 by the Earl of Breadalbane. From Killin, the direction of our view, the north road, which is generally followed, lies to the left. Just at the head of the road--one of the roads made by General Wade--is seen the ivy-covered ruin of Finlarig Castle, situated amidst fine woods, and having near it the burial place of the Breadalbane family. The Queen, visiting Taymouth Castle in 1842, lunched at Auchmore, where the south road strikes off. She speaks of the scene as enchanting, and it would be difficult to find a more appropriate word. Ben Lawers, the ascent of which is made from Lawers inn, has not many superiors in height in Scotland, and its ascent is not difficult, while the view from it is superb. Behind Ben Lawers, and further on running to a junction with the valley in which Loch Tay lies, is the grand district of Glen Lyon, of which many think, that from its upper reaches in the Forest of Mamlorn to where the Lyon falls into the Tay, there is not a glen in Scotland so weird and yet so verdantly beautiful. The ascent of Ben Lawers, it may be mentioned, has special charms for the botanist, boasting amidst many rare plants the drooping saxifrage (_S. cernua_,) not elsewhere found in this country. The district abounds in water and in waterfalls, including the falls of Acharn, which are seen from the north side, but may be visited if the south road be taken. From near Aberfeldy, when the noble river Tay, the birth of this grand loch, has run some miles of its course, the tourist naturally turns aside to visit the falls of Moness, 'the epitome of waterfalls,' as Pennant says, on a stream which flows through the town of Aberfeldy. Here is the scene so exquisitely sung by Burns;

'The braes ascend like lofty wa's
The foaming stream, deep-roaring, fa's
O'er hung wi' fragrant, spreading shaws,
The Birks o' Aberfeldy.'

Close by Kenmore, at the lower end of the loch is a wooded island, on which lies buried Princess Sybilla, daughter of Henry I. and wife of the Scots King, Alexander I. In the inn-parlour at Kenmore Burns wrote some lines of intense feeling and adoration, in which he dwells on

'The sweeping theatre of hanging woods;
Th' incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods,'

--twin characteristics of this most attractive region.

LOCH AWE.

It is but seldom that the eye can rest upon so much soft beauty and stern grandeur as can be seen at one moment in looking at this grand loch. Rivalling Loch Lomond in length, it is much narrower, and while richer, is perhaps less varied. In sailing over its clear waters, the richly wooded islands and green banks suggest some large and placid river. Crowded with islands, especially at its upper part, each one with its ruin, its legend, or its sylvan beauty to attract, the loch is in all respects charming. There is Inishail--the island of the fair, immortalized by Hamerton,--Inis-Fraoch, the Hesperides of Celtic romance, with golden fruit, a dragon, a lover, and a legend, all in due form, Inistrynich, the island of the Druids, and many others. And near the head of the loch is the peninsula on which stands Kilchurn Castle, to whom we may say with Wordsworth,

'thy hour of rest
Is come, and thou art silent in thy age.'

This ruin is one of the favourite subjects of the Scottish landscape painter, and its picturesque character is well seen in our view. Though now a complete wreck, it was entire and served as a post for the royal troops in the '45, and almost within living memory it was a habitable mansion. It is said that an economical steward of the Earl of Breadalbane fancied the roof timbers would be useful at Taymouth Castle, and had them removed. It is certain that for long the gigantic stronghold served as a common quarry for the surrounding district, and that even the church in the adjoining Glen Orchy has in it some stones from the old castle. On the high ground to the right is a circular and somewhat rude yet effective stone monument to Duncan Ban Macintyre, of Glen Orchy, who died in Edinburgh in 1812, aged 89 years, and whose fame as a Gaelic poet is unique.

At its upper end the loch forks into two arms, that to the right receiving the Orchy and other feeders, while that to the left runs through the dark Pass of Brander, and there, in the river Awe, the loch finds its outlet. Formerly the saying that 'it's a far cry to Lochow' had more significance, for now the railway has made this grand loch easily accessible, and as the line skirts the upper end of the loch (where a large hotel has been built) and proceeds on terraced banks through the Pass of Brander, crossing the rapids of the Awe on a high bridge, the traveller enjoys the beauties of the district in a large degree. The sail on the loch is, however, a part of the Highland tour which no visitor should forego.

Ben Cruachan, whose double peak (the highest 3667 feet) dominates the district, is one of the most striking of the Scottish hills, in its massive form, magnificently swelling contours, and unique position, giving perhaps a greater idea of bulk than other hills of the same height. On three sides it rises from the water's edge, Loch Awe in its two upper branches, the river Awe, and Loch Etive, the sea-loch into which the latter runs, washing its base. The ascent of this noble Ben is best made from the Bridge of Awe, a scene rendered familiar in Scott's _Highland Widow_, and the view from the summit is magnificent. No one will ever regret the toil of surmounting

'yon sovereign lord
Huge Cruachan, a thing that meaner hills
Might crush, nor know that it had suffered harm.'

LOCH ETIVE.

Coming round the base of Ben Cruachan by rail, and leaving the Pass of Brander and the rapids of the river Awe, the observant traveller will not fail to notice that the large and spreading water he now approaches has the character of a sea loch. If no other indication were given, the presence of brown sea-wrack along the margin of the water would show that here the tides ebb and flow. Far away to the right, surrounded by grand hills, and closed in at the distance by the bulky shoulders of Buchael Etive, is the upper reach of the loch, forming in itself a most attractive portion of Highland scenery. The railway, however, confines itself solely to the south side of the lower and salter reach of the water, separated from the inner loch by a reef of rocks, through the chief opening in which the receding tide rushes with the character of a waterfall. Passing along the loch, there is seen on the north side the remains of Ardchattan Priory, one of the three religious houses established in Scotland after the pattern of those in the Val de Choux (Cabbage Valley, or, _Scottice_, Kale Glen, as the recent historian of Pluscardyn ingeniously puts it) near Chatillon, in Burgundy. Loch Etive narrows at its mouth at Connell Ferry, and then opens grandly into Loch Linnhe.

Dunstaffnage Castle, shown in the view, is one of the royal castles of the Duke of Argyle. The building, which is of great antiquity and strength, was destroyed by fire in 1715. Some guns supposed to have belonged to the Spanish Armada are in the castle, and the remains of a chapel are seen, in which are supposed to rest, not only the remains of the actual King Alexander II, but of various more or less apocryphal Dalriad kings. Over the water is shown the site of the Pictish capital of Beregonium, (said to have been destroyed by fire from heaven!) and, near it, on Bal-an-righ, is a vitrified hill fort, the _Selma_ of the poems of Ossian.

At Dunstaffnage was at one time kept the Coronation Stone, or Stone of Destiny, of which the tradition says that it was the veritable stone on which Jacob laid his head when he had the dream on his way to Padan-Aram! Geologists say that the structure of the _Lia Fail_ agrees with that of the stones at Dunstaffnage. Leaving out tradition, the stone is said to have been removed from this place to Scone, near Perth, where the kings of Scotland continued to be crowned till Edward Longshanks removed this Scottish palladium to Westminster Abbey, where it remains to-day, fixed beneath the coronation chair. It is said that Edward II. was willing to restore the Stone of Destiny to Scotland, but was prevented by the London mob. The 'destiny' was proclaimed in verses that have been rendered in this form

'Unless the fates are faithless grown
And prophets voice be vain
Where'er is found this sacred stone
The Scottish race shall reign.'

Without a doubt, the house of Brunswick claims the throne of those realms in consequence of their Stuart descent, so that the stone has not as yet failed in its effect, and every one desires that the 'destiny' should continue in the same line, whether the boulder from the borders of Loch Etive has anything to do with the matter or not.

THE FALLS OF FOYERS.

Here we have the culmination, as regards beauty, of the waterfalls of Scotland. This is one of the scenes that struck the imagination of Burns, as, standing by the fall, he wrote in pencil words that can never be omitted in any description for they fulfil all that description can effect--

'Among the heathy hills and rugged woods
The roaring Foyers pours his mossy floods
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds
Where thro' a shapeless breach his stream resounds
As high in air the bursting torrents flow
As deep recoiling surges foam below
Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends
And viewless Echo's ear, astonished, rends:
Dim seen through rising mists and ceaseless showers
The hoary cavern, wide surrounding, lowers,
Still, thro' the gap the struggling river toils
And still, below, the horrid cauldron boils.'

The last idea is one that ever recurs in the presence of a great waterfall, and in every respect the description is perfect, the shapeless breach, the bursting torrent and the deep recoiling surges are each impressed on the mind, even if the visitor has not read Burns's lines. When Dr. Johnson visited Scotland, he too saw the Fall of 'Fiers' as it is called in his _Journey to the Western Islands_, and although a long continuance of dry weather had robbed the fall of much of its promised grandeur, Dr. Johnson, while philosophically remarking that 'Nature never gives everything at once,' gives a striking word-picture, exercising as he says, his thoughts to 'conceive the effect of a thousand streams poured from the mountains into one channel, struggling for expansion in a narrow passage, exasperated by rocks rising in their way and at last discharging all their violence of waters by a sudden fall through the horrid chasm.' This is splendid, and if old Samuel Johnson had seen Foyers at its best he could not have improved on the description.

The steamers on Loch Ness invariably stay at the pier of Foyers, affording time to walk to the grand falls. The hotel here is built on the site of 'General's Hut,' and still in Johnson's day it is 'not ill stocked with provisions.' The name is given because General Wade, when superintending those roads that are rendered famous by his epitaph, was lodged at this spot. There are two falls, with a distance of about a quarter of a mile between them, the lower or great fall being that shown in the view. Over the upper fall there is a light bridge thrown, and the scene here is very fine, though it is exceeded in grandeur by the snow-white rush of the lower waterfall. The latter earns its title of the 'fall of smoke,' the spray rising in never-ceasing clouds of grey mist-like smoke.

A notable scene in the immediate vicinity of Foyers is the Pass of Inverfarigaig, with vast cliffs, and many interesting geological points of study. By ascending this pass and striking westward a fine approach can be obtained to the upper fall of Foyers. Again, by a ferry near the pier, the loch can be crossed, and the quaintly shaped hill of Mealfourvonie can be ascended. Again, a short distance brings the visitor to Castle Urquhart, while a little further on is Drumnadrochit, rendered famous by _Punch's_ Fat Contributor,--'your health sir, in a dram!'--where but for the telegraph wire, and the post office, and the newspaper, and the frequent steamboats, a man might moon away his time, and never tire of the fine air, the wonderful surroundings, and the remote stillness. If a man wished to be a hermit, and yet see much of the world, to be unoccupied, yet never fail of variety of occupation, to be rested and refreshed, yet interested and employed, he could not do better than take up his abode at Foyers for the four or five months of the long days between April and October.

LOCH NESS.

This loch, with soundings deeper than any in the German Ocean, has come into notice in an especial manner, because it forms, in its twenty-four miles, a large section of famous tourist route, the Caledonian Canal. The loch is within a few miles of the handsome town of Inverness; the river Ness, draining the loch, running through the town to the Moray Firth after a short but lovely course over the intervening distance. Between Loch Ness and the outlet there lies a vast gravel peninsula, dividing the section known as Loch Dochfour from the rest, the barricade thus formed being a safeguard to the town against the enormous pressure of water that would otherwise flow out in times of flood. As it is, the records of the town point to terrible devastations from the Ness coming down in strength. The deep waters of the loch get lashed into stormy waves by gusts of wind rushing down from the surrounding glens, so that Loch Ness does not always present the peaceful aspect of our view, as seen by the summer visitor. But we will take it on such a day by preference, and can warrant to every one who comes that the sail in the fine steamers plying on the loch and canal will be redolent of joy and beauty and grandeur. We may conceive that there is more comfort and ease in seeing Loch Ness than when, a hundred and nine years ago Johnson and Boswell rode along its shores. But the high terms in which Bozzy speaks of the scene are as fresh to-day as then, for the road shaded with birch trees, the hills above it, the 'sequestered and agreeably wild' scene, are as fitted to engross attention as ever. We know also that they would see Castle Urquhart, on its prominent peninsula, and would probably be struck by the notable form of the hill called Mealfourvonie. They stopped at the 'General's Hut,' as indeed we all do, for the new hotel at Foyers is built on its site, whence we take the road to visit the falls of that name, as described elsewhere.

Fort Augustus, standing at the western end of the loch, is now a Benedictine monastery and school. Built after the Jacobite rising in 1715, as part of the plan for holding the turbulent Highlanders in subjection, it remained crown property for a century and a half, and falling into disuse and neglect was then sold for its present purpose.

Although our view gives but a small section of the loch, our notice may be directed to the other parts of the route that now yearly carries thousands of tourists through the Glenmore-nan-Albin. There is at Corpach the famous 'Neptune's staircase,' where eight locks bring the boat from the outer loch to the canal level. Loch Lochy, ten miles in length, forms the western portion. Then after two miles of canal Loch Oich is reached, this sheet of water being four miles long. Then another cut takes to Loch Ness, the whole distance, from the staircase to Muirton lock on the east side being about fifty miles. The entire route, barring the delay at the locks up and down, has all the charm of one continuous voyage on an inland lake, the portions in canal being almost indistinguishable except in width from the natural channels. There is a constant variety and glory of scenery during the day's sail, and nowhere can the traveller spend a holiday with more delightful surroundings.

LOCH CORUISK.

There are few scenes more fitted to move the imagination than the wonderful loch, and the more wonderful hills that surround it, presented in this view. It is somewhat of an exaggeration for Sir Walter Scott to say that here

'Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower,
Nor ought of vegetative power
The weary eye may ken.'

But this is distinctly the impression of a first survey of the wild scene, though under glints of sunshine there will not fail to meet the eye little snatches of grassy bottom and stunted herbage, here and there in the midst of the rocks. Yet there is so little to relieve the singular darkness of the rock-pent water, and the dusky green of the Cuchullin hills that surround it, that one fully appreciates, even in the brightest weather, how true a picture Scott has drawn of the scene:--

'For rarely human eye has known
A scene so stern as that dread lake
With its dark ledge of barren stone.
Seems that primeval earthquake's sway
Hath rent a strange and shattered way
Through the rude bosom of the hill,
And that each naked precipice
Sable ravine and dark abyss
Tells of the outrage still.'

To see Coruisk in fine weather is impressive, but it is when leaden clouds weigh down the atmosphere, and dank mists clothe the rugged peaks around, that the scene comes out in its full and weird impressiveness. Then 'naked precipice,' 'sable ravine,' and 'dark abyss,' are seen to be true words, and there comes on the spectator some feeling of scenes that have been read of in Dante or Milton:--

'He views
The dismal situation, waste and wild.
A dungeon horrible on all sides round * *
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell.'

But we must not give too black a character to this loch and its surrounding hills. It is no Malebolge, filled by 'sounds and sights unholy,' and while it impresses by its solitude and grandeur, it also gratifies by its intense feeling of repose, and its remoteness from the ills of busier life. Those visiting Coruisk will view with wonder the extraordinary peaks of the Cuchullins, (pronounced Coolins,) each more fantastic and broken than his neighbour, and all consisting of the green-black hypersthene trap that gives its character to the scenery here. South-east of the loch is the mighty bulk of Blabheinn, (pronounced Blaven,) a huge mass with precipitous sides, down which, on the occurrence of one of the frequent showers of this watery isle, the rain is seen to descend in broken rills of dazzling whiteness, making an extraordinary effect upon the upright face of dark rock. To the north-east, the Cuchullin hills terminate in the ragged triple peak of Scuir-na-gillean, the rock or hill of the young men. This height was first scaled, in recorded history, in 1836, when Principal Forbes, of glacial fame, ascended it, and since then, with guides, it has been frequently climbed. But from the extraordinary formation of the hill, the ascent is a work of much danger, and lives have been lost in the attempt. The peak is a narrow ledge, precipitous on every side. The height is 3220 feet, and although Scuir-na-Banachtich, the westmost peak, is believed to be as high, it has not been climbed so far as is known, and thus Scuir-na-gillean holds first rank in this wonderful group of mountains.

LOCH MAREE.

The first sight of this glorious loch, as the stage coach from Auchnasheen station brings the traveller to the top of a steep descent, is calculated to excite the liveliest emotions of wonder and surprise. The road reminds one of some Alpine pass, while far below stretches the large sheet of water, with its western end eighteen miles away. If for a moment a feeling of the smallness of the loch should supervene, the huge hills dwindling it down by their enormous bulk, this soon passes away, and we feel to be in presence of one of Scotland's proudest lochs. The coach drive to Gairloch occupies six hours in all, including a short stoppage to bait the horses at Kinlochewe, and during the whole time the eye is filled with pictures of grandeur or of delight. After the tedious descent to the water's edge has convinced you that the feeling of smallness is a mistake, you have time to observe the effect which such a mountain as Ben Slioch has in dwarfing all around it. Loch Maree is but six miles from the sea, with no great descent, so that the hill raises its mighty shoulders almost sheer from the sea level. From the road you perceive, skirting the loch on the other side, what seems a fringe of very small bushes. But anon a two-storey house appears among the bushes, which now, with a known standard of comparison, are seen to be tall trees! From the top of Ben Slioch, or any of the neighbouring mountains of first-class size, the view is grand, embracing at once the Atlantic and the German Oceans. On the opposite side from Ben Slioch is the Scottish _Pentelicus_, Ben Eay, whose brilliant white quartz pinnacle may sometimes be seen shining in the sun, like the famed marble mountains of Greece.

On the bosom of Loch Maree, near its widest end, are several islands, the largest of which, Eilan Mhaolrubh, contains the remains of an old chapel, and a holy well that is even yet in high repute amongst the ignorant. It is sometimes said that the chapel, island, and loch get their name from the Virgin Mary, but this is now universally acknowledged amongst scholars to be an error. It was the Irish preacher, Maelrubha, (Latinised to Malrubius, then softened down in local tongues to Mulray, Mourie, and Maree,) who came over to Scotland in the seventh century, who gave his name to the place. Dr. Arthur Mitchell, in his Rhind Lectures on Civilization, has told in full the story of the curious superstitions concerning this island, of which examples as recently as twenty years ago are quoted. It is to be noted that when, a year or two ago, the Queen visited the island, great indignation was expressed in some quarters, because it was on a Sunday evening she got rowed over from her retreat at Talladale to see this interesting place.

The coach leaves the edge of the loch at Talladale, after a lovely and varied drive along its banks, now in the bosom of a dense wood, now in the midst of a rocky chaos,

'The fragments of an earlier world.'

A few miles down the road are found the romantic falls of the Kerry. The man on the box seat at the left of the coach looks sheer down the precipice over which the stream falls, as the coach with a swing turns the corner of the steep road, with little visible between the traveller and the dangers of that awful chasm!

FALLS OF THE GARRAVALT.

Although not reckoning amongst the grander waterfalls of Scotland, the cataract on the Garravalt, in the Queen's Forest of Ballochbuie, is behind few in the picturesque wildness of its surroundings. The name in Gaelic,--'Garbh-allt'--is characteristic and descriptive, signifying a rough brook, and our view of the roaring cataract shews how completely it deserves that name. The entire course of the stream, from its rise in Cairn Taggart, one of the Loch-na-gar group of hills, is about five miles, and the linn itself is little more than half a mile from where the Garravalt joins the Dee. To reach the place,--and few visitors to the famed district of Deeside will omit to visit it,--only a slight deviation from the road leading from Crathie and Balmoral to the Castleton of Braemar is called for, the place where the road leads off being close beside the Bridge of Invercauld, over the Dee.

This waterfall, the finest of several in Deeside, has been enthusiastically praised by every writer. The Queen, in the _Leaves from the Journal of Our Life in the Highlands_, says, 'From the road in the wood we walked up to the _Falls of the Garbhalt_, which are beautiful. The rocks are very grand, and the view from the little bridge, and also from a seat a little lower down, is very pretty.' Her Majesty has here indicated the two points of view generally chosen, namely that from the bridge looking down, and that from below, looking up the stream, the latter being adopted for our representation. To say, as one writer has done, that 'the water comes foaming and raging and toiling down in a manner almost impossible to be described,' is to abdicate the chief functions of a word painter. The waters come roaring and rushing down the rocky cleft, hurrying over the blocks and stones that impede their passage, and creating a noise that is heard far off,

'Confounding,
Astounding,
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound
And so never ending, but always descending
Sound and motion for ever and ever are blending.'

The eye never tires in looking at the lively scene, and the ear drinks in the murmuring and thundering sound, which has the usual faculty of swelling and falling, till the mind gets imbued with the idea that the waters are endowed with the faculty of speech, so that we involuntarily ask 'what are the wild waves saying?' and linger long at the spot in the vain hope that the varying syllables of the living water will yet form themselves into intelligible words. This is not to be however, and we may turn away to look for a moment at the picturesque country in which this attractive waterfall is situated. The steep pine-covered hill is called the Forest of Ballochbuie. Here again we may turn to the Queen's book, where 'the aspect of the wood which is called Balloch Buie' is described as 'most lovely.' It is said that this ground was at one time given to the Farquharsons of Invercauld, by the Earl of Mar, for a tartan plaid. It is now royal property, and forms an extensive and valued addition to the forest of Balmoral, which lies between Ballochbuie and the castle. It was in the Mar territory, at the Castleton of Braemar, that in 1715 the then Earl of Mar raised his standard in support of the Chevalier St. George, whom he had previously, in Glenlivat, proclaimed as King James the Eighth of Scotland. Here, where 'the gathering pipe on Loch-na-gar' was heard sounding 'long and sairly,' the inheritor of the crown of the Stewarts has frequently attended a very different gathering on the 'Braes o' Mar,' when the Duffs, the Farquharsons, and other clans meet, not for feuds and bloodshed, but for the athletic rivalries of 'tossing the caber' and other native games.

THE DHU LOCH--LOCH-NA-GAR.

It is perhaps puzzling to the stranger to learn that Loch-na-gar is a mountain, 3768 feet above the level of the sea, though there is on the summit, and hemmed in by steep precipices, a small sheet of water that gives its name to the hill. But in the Dhu Loch, a little further in the heart of this mountainous district, we find one of the most striking scenes in Scotland. It was of the hill and its surroundings that Lord Byron wrote his familiar lines,

'Away ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses,
In you let the minions of luxury rove.
Restore me the rocks where the snowflake reposes,
Tho' still they are sacred to freedom and love.
O Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,
Round their white summits though elements war,
Though cataracts foam, 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Loch-na-gar.'

The _Dhu Loch_, or black loch--a well-deserved name--has its bed, as shown in our view, in steep and desperate precipices of granite, and for sternness of outline is not excelled. The red-deer on its banks are undisturbed, for seldom does the foot of man intrude on their repose, and while the water is clear, it is strongly discoloured by the peat, and the absence of foliage, with the sterile loneliness of the scene, make men shun rather than court its remote solitudes. 'The scenery is beautiful here,' says the Queen, in her _Leaves from the Journal of our Life in the Highlands_, 'so wild and grand,--real severe Highland scenery,' and the description is surely a true one. No one can come about the Dhu Loch without being prepared for 'several scrambles,' like the royal party, and without being prepared also to endure the 'severity' as well as enjoy the beauty of the place. If he does not, like Lord Byron, admit Loch-na-gar to be 'the most sublime and picturesque of Caledonian Alps,'--for perhaps some hill already named in this volume, unknown to Byron, such as Blaven, or Ben Eay, might dispute the title--still he will acknowledge that it is a wonderful region. It is said that on a fair calculation of what elements go to make up a desirable climate, the kingdom has nothing better to offer than Braemar, and that Balmoral is the ideal site for a residence. The district is like all that belonged to the little bear in the child's story. The hills are neither too high nor too low, but just right. The climate is neither too mild nor too severe, but just right. The rainfall is neither too much nor too little, but just right. In short it is a perfect region,--perfect in its variety of scenery, from the rich woodlands of its lower ranges to the wild grandeur of its mountain recesses. Perfect is it also in its fine lochs, its picturesque waterfalls, its brattling burns, and its rolling rivers.

The waters from the Dhu Loch run into Loch Muick, above which lies the hut at Altnaghuissac, a favourite _shiel_, or mountain summer house of the royal family when living at Balmoral. This lies in the very innermost recesses of a grand region, and here the pure air, and the splendid views, combine to make a haven of retreat, whether, as in the case of royalty, from the cares of state and the turmoil of politics, or, in the case of the jaded man of business, from the burdens and anxieties of the daily grind of life. Those characteristics, more or less true of the whole inner region of Aberdeenshire, have made the district a favourite _sanitarium_, while for the mere pleasure-seeker it presents a succession of delights, full of unalloyed beauty, unless indeed the weather should break down, and the unwary traveller is caught in the rains and mists of winter, which may make the ascent of Loch-na-gar dangerous.

THE CAULDRON LINN.

It is not a little remarkable that the only conception of the Devon put on paper by Robert Burns was as a clear winding river, whose sweet stream 'meandering flows.' The fact was that Burns was led to know that something was expected of him, and his muse was not to respond, for she acted spontaneously or not at all. A woman did eventually inspire him to write--ah! those women, how much of Burns' best thoughts did they command!--and he referred to the romantic stream only in order to tell that the 'bonniest flower' there had once been a sweet bud on the banks of his own beloved Ayr. The river Devon has a short and chequered existence, and after a course of thirty-four miles, falls into the Forth within five miles of its source. At that little bit of its journey when, after rising in Stirlingshire, it flows through Perthshire into Kinrosshire, and then doubles back across a peninsular bit of Perthshire to reach the county of Clackmannan, the stream goes through a series of vicissitudes that completely destroy its 'clear-winding' character. First there is the deep chasm across which the Rumbling Bridge is thrown. There are here two bridges, one over the other. The earlier bridge, built in 1713, eighty feet above the stream, is narrow and without a parapet, and there is a local tradition of a man who fell asleep in his cart being taken home safely over this exalted and narrow pathway by the instinct of his horse. The present bridge, a plain but strong erection, was built in 1816, and is one hundred and twenty feet above the stream, the latter hidden far below amidst inaccessible precipices and darkening woods. Further up the stream is the 'Devil's Mill,' said to be a waterfall, but so completely inaccessible, that the character of the place is very much a matter of conjecture. However, there is heard far down in the depths below the clack and beat of a mill; and as this goes on Sabbath and Saturday alike, the name quoted above has been bestowed on the unhallowed mill. It is understood that the water falls into a basin or chasm without outlet, carrying air with it, then the air bursts out with the boom that resembles the regulated beat of a mill. Be the cause what it may, the delusion is perfect.

Pursuing its way for a mile through a deeply cleft and gnarled valley, the Devon flings itself in desperation over the Cauldron Linn. There are two points of view for this singular waterfall, one from above looking down, the other, shown in our view, from below, looking up. From above, at the level where the trees are seen, the water leaps into the cauldrons that give the Linn its name. In the hard basaltic rock the swirling water has worn out three circular vats or cauldrons, in which the stream incessantly goes round. The surplus water plunges over the edge of one cauldron to that below, or, as in one instance, has worn a hole in the side of the pot, and rushes through that. It is said that when a sheep's carcase is brought down, and the river is not high, it will swirl round in the cauldrons till a spate comes strong enough to carry it over the edge. At the top the round lips of the upper cauldron nearly meet, so that a man of nerve could leap across. The distance is probably not over a yard, but so dizzying is the incessant whirl of the water, that so far from leaping across, a timid visitor may not even look over the edge, unless prone on the earth he puts his face over, conscious that six-sevenths of his body are safe on _terra firma_!

From below none of this terrible stir of the Cauldron Linn is seen--we have merely a snowy sheet of water, beautiful certainly, and impressive in its height, and encircled with lofty precipices, so that, without reference to its characteristic features above, it takes rank as one of the most beautiful cataracts in Scotland. The view, which forms a vignette on our title-page, would in its natural place come before or after Loch Leven.

B. FAWCETT, ENGRAVER AND PRINTER, DRIFFIELD.

End of Project Gutenberg's Scottish Loch Scenery, by Thomas A. Croal