means of three
bridges, which make one continued bridge of a great length. On an island
below the bridge is a gateway with tall pillars, leading to an old
burying-ground belonging to some noble family. {187} It has a singular
appearance, and the place is altogether uncommon and romantic--a remnant
of ancient grandeur: extreme natural wildness--the sound of roaring
water, and withal, the ordinary half-village, half-town bustle of an
every-day place.

The inn at Killin is one of the largest on the Scotch road: it stands
pleasantly, near the chapel, at some distance from the river Dochart, and
out of reach of its tumultuous noise; and another broad, stately, and
silent stream, which you cannot look at without remembering its
boisterous neighbour, flows close under the windows of the inn, and
beside the churchyard, in which are many graves. That river falls into
the lake at the distance of nearly a mile from the mouth of the Dochart.
It is bordered with tall trees and corn fields, bearing plentiful crops,
the richest we had seen in Scotland.

After breakfast we walked onwards, expecting that the stream would lead
us into some considerable vale; but it soon became little better than a
common rivulet, and the glen appeared to be short; indeed, we wondered
how the river had grown so great all at once. Our horse had not been
able to eat his corn, and we waited a long time in the hope that he would
be better. At eleven o'clock, however, we determined to set off, and
give him all the ease possible by walking up the hills, and not pushing
beyond a slow walk. We had fourteen miles to travel to Kenmore, by the
side of Loch Tay. Crossed the same bridge again, and went down the south
side of the lake. We had a delightful view of the village of Killin,
among rich green fields, corn and wood, and up towards the two horns of
the vale of Tay, the valley of the Dochart, and the other valley with its
full-grown river, the prospect terminated by mountains. We travelled
through lanes, woods, or open fields, never close to the lake, but always
near it, for many miles, the road being carried along the side of a hill,
which rose in an almost regularly receding steep from the lake. The
opposite shore did not much differ from that down which we went, but it
seemed more thinly inhabited, and not so well cultivated. The sun shone,
the cottages were pleasant, and the goings-on of the harvest--for all the
inhabitants were at work in the c