eight miles distant from the point
where the river Tummel, after having left the lake, joins the Garry at
Fascally near the Pass of Killicrankie, therefore we resolved to make our
way thither, and endeavour to procure a lodging at the same public-house
where it had been refused to us the night before. The road was likely to
be very bad; but, knowing the distance, we thought it more prudent than
to venture farther with nothing before us but uncertainty. We were
forced to unyoke the horse, and turn the car ourselves, owing to the
steep banks on either side of the road, and after much trouble we got him
in again, and set our faces down the vale towards Loch Tummel, William
leading the car and I walking by his side.

For the first two or three miles we looked down upon the lake, our road
being along the side of the hill directly above it. On the opposite side
another range of hills rose up in the same manner,--farm-houses thinly
scattered among the copses near the water, and cultivated ground in
patches. The lake does not wind, nor are the shores much varied by
bays,--the mountains not commanding; but the whole a pleasing scene. Our
road took us out of sight of the water, and we were obliged to procure a
guide across a high moor, where it was impossible that the horse should
drag us at all, the ground being exceedingly rough and untracked: of
course fatiguing for foot-travellers, and on foot we must travel. After
some time, the river Tummel again served us for a guide, when it had left
the lake. It was no longer a gentle stream, a mirror to the sky, but we
could hear it roaring at a considerable distance between steep banks of
rock and wood. We had to cross the Garry by a bridge, a little above the
junction of the two rivers; and were now not far from the public-house,
to our great joy, for we were very weary with our laborious walk. I do
not think that I had walked less than sixteen miles, and William much
more, to which add the fatigue of leading the horse, and the rough roads,
and you will not wonder that we longed for rest. We stopped at the door
of the house, and William entered as before, and again the woman refused
to lodge us, in a most inhuman manner, giving no other reason than that
she would not do it. We pleaded for the poor horse, entreated, soothed,
and flattered, but all in vain, though the night was cloudy and dark. We
begged to sit by the fire till morning, and to this she would not
consent; inde