hilly, and after we had climbed
one small hill we were not desirous to get into the car again, seeing
another before us, and our path was always delightful, near the lake, and
frequently through woods. When we were within about half a mile of
Tarbet, at a sudden turning looking to the left, we saw a very
craggy-topped mountain amongst other smooth ones; the rocks on the summit
distinct in shape as if they were buildings raised up by man, or uncouth
images of some strange creature. We called out with one voice, 'That's
what we wanted!' alluding to the frame-like uniformity of the
side-screens of the lake for the last five or six miles. As we
conjectured, this singular mountain was the famous Cobbler, near
Arrochar. Tarbet was before us in the recess of a deep, large bay, under
the shelter of a hill. When we came up to the village we had to inquire
for the inn, there being no signboard. It was a well-sized white house,
the best in the place. We were conducted up-stairs into a sitting-room
that might make any good-humoured travellers happy--a square room, with
windows on each side, looking, one way, towards the mountains, and across
the lake to Ben Lomond, the other.

There was a pretty stone house before (_i.e._ towards the lake) some
huts, scattered trees, two or three green fields with hedgerows, and a
little brook making its way towards the lake; the fields are almost flat,
and screened on that side nearest the head of the lake by a hill, which,
pushing itself out, forms the bay of Tarbet, and, towards the foot, by a
gentle slope and trees. The lake is narrow, and Ben Lomond shuts up the
prospect, rising directly from the water. We could have believed
ourselves to be by the side of Ulswater, at Glenridden, or in some other
of the inhabited retirements of that lake. We were in a sheltered place
among mountains; it was not an open joyous bay, with a cheerful populous
village, like Luss; but a pastoral and retired spot, with a few single
dwellings. The people of the inn stared at us when we spoke, without
giving us an answer immediately, which we were at first disposed to
attribute to coarseness of manners, but found afterwards that they did
not understand us at once, Erse being the language spoken in the family.
Nothing but salt meat and eggs for dinner--no potatoes; the house smelt
strongly of herrings, which were hung to dry over the kitchen fire.

Walked in the evening towards the head of the lake; the roa