e
river were born to no inheritance, had no sheltering cradle, no hills of
its own. As we have seen, this does not continue long; it flows through
a distinct, though not a magnificent vale. But, having lost the pastoral
character which it had in the youthful days of Smollett--if the
description in his ode to his native stream be a faithful one--it is less
interesting than it was then.

The road carried us sometimes close to the lake, sometimes at a
considerable distance from it, over moorish grounds, or through
half-cultivated enclosures; we had the lake on our right, which is here
so wide that the opposite hills, not being high, are cast into
insignificance, and we could not distinguish any buildings near the
water, if any there were. It is however always delightful to travel by a
lake of clear waters, if you see nothing else but a very ordinary
country; but we had some beautiful distant views, one in particular, down
the high road, through a vista of over-arching trees; and the near shore
was frequently very pleasing, with its gravel banks, bendings, and small
bays. In one part it was bordered for a considerable way by irregular
groups of forest trees or single stragglers, which, although not large,
seemed old; their branches were stunted and knotty, as if they had been
striving with storms, and had half yielded to them. Under these trees we
had a variety of pleasing views across the lake, and the very rolling
over the road and looking at its smooth and beautiful surface was itself
a pleasure. It was as smooth as a gravel walk, and of the bluish colour
of some of the roads among the lakes of the north of England.

Passed no very remarkable place till we came to Sir James Colquhoun's
house, which stands upon a large, flat, woody peninsula, looking towards
Ben Lomond. There must be many beautiful walks among the copses of the
peninsula, and delicious views over the water; but the general surface of
the country is poor, and looks as if it ought to be rich and well
peopled, for it is not mountainous; nor had we passed any hills which a
Cumbrian would dignify with the name of mountains. There was many a
little plain or gently-sloping hill covered with poor heath or broom
without trees, where one should have liked to see a cottage in a bower of
wood, with its patch of corn and potatoes, and a green field with a hedge
to keep it warm. As we advanced we perceived less of the coldness of
poverty, the hills not having