gh this enchanting valley. The air
was mild and clear; a few light clouds occasionally crossing the sun,
chequered the hills with sun and shade. I have as yet seen nothing that
in pastoral beauty can compare with its glassy winding stream, its mossy
old woods, and guarding hills--and the ivy-grown, castellated towers
embosomed in its forests, or standing on the banks of the Leven--the
purest of rivers. At a little village called Renton, is a monument to
Smollett, but the inhabitants seem to neglect his memory, as one of the
tablets on the pedestal is broken and half fallen away. Further up the
vale a farmer showed us an old mansion in the midst of a group of trees
on the bank of the Leven, which he said belonged to Smollett--or
Roderick Random, as he called him. Two or three old pear trees were
still standing where the garden had formerly been, under which he was
accustomed to play in his childhood.

At the head of Leven Vale, we set off in the steamer "Water Witch" over
the crystal waters of Loch Lomond, passing Inch Murrin, the deer-park of
the Duke of Montrose, and Inch Caillach,

----"where gray pines wave
Their shadows o'er Clan Alpine's grave."

Under the clear sky and golden light of the declining sun, we entered
the Highlands, and heard on every side names we had learned long ago in
the lays of Scott. Here were Glen Fruin and Bannochar, Ross Dhu and the
pass of Beal-ma-na. Further still, we passed Rob Roy's rock, where the
lake is locked in by lofty mountains. The cone-like peak of Ben Lomond
rises far above on the right, Ben Voirlich stands in front, and the
jagged crest of Ben Arthur looks over the shoulders of the western
hills. A Scotchman on board pointed out to us the remarkable places, and
related many interesting legends. Above Inversnaid, where there is a
beautiful waterfall, leaping over the rock and glancing out from the
overhanging birches, we passed McFarland's Island, concerning the origin
of which name, he gave a history. A nephew of one of the old Earls of
Lennox, the ruins of whose castle we saw on Inch Murrin, having murdered
his uncle's cook in a quarrel, was obliged to flee for his life.
Returning after many years, he built a castle upon this island, which
was always after named, on account of his exile, _Far-land_. On a
precipitous point above Inversnaid, are two caves in the rock; one near
the water is called Rob Roy's, though the guides generally call it
Bruce's also, to avoid t