mountains. Little brooks arising in these ridges, and finding their way
to the river, offer each its own little vale to the industry of the
cultivator. Some of them bear fine large trees, which have as yet
escaped the axe, and upon the sides of most there are scattered patches
and fringes of natural copsewood, above and around which the banks of
the stream arise, somewhat desolate in the colder months, but in summer
glowing with dark purple heath, or with the golden lustre of the broom
and gorse. This is a sort of scenery peculiar to those countries, which
abound, like Scotland, in hills and in streams, and where the traveller
is ever and anon discovering in some intricate and unexpected recess, a
simple and silvan beauty, which pleases him the more, that it seems to
be peculiarly his own property as the first discoverer.

In one of these recesses, and so near its opening as to command the
prospect of the river, the broader valley, and the opposite chain of
hills, stood, and, unless neglect and desertion have completed their
work, still stands, the ancient and decayed village of St. Ronan's. The
site was singularly picturesque, as the straggling street of the village
ran up a very steep hill, on the side of which were clustered, as it
were, upon little terraces, the cottages which composed the place,
seeming, as in the Swiss towns on the Alps, to rise above each other
towards the ruins of an old castle, which continued to occupy the crest
of the eminence, and the strength of which had doubtless led the
neighbourhood to assemble under its walls for protection. It must,
indeed, have been a place of formidable defence, for, on the side
opposite to the town, its walls rose straight up from the verge of a
tremendous and rocky precipice, whose base was washed by Saint Ronan's
burn, as the brook was entitled. On the southern side, where the
declivity was less precipitous, the ground had been carefully levelled
into successive terraces, which ascended to the summit of the hill, and
were, or rather had been, connected by staircases of stone, rudely
ornamented. In peaceful periods these terraces had been occupied by the
gardens of the Castle, and in times of siege they added to its security,
for each commanded the one immediately below it, so that they could be
separately and successively defended, and all were exposed to the fire
from the place itself--a massive square tower of the largest size,
surrounded, as usual, by lower bu