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skinny arms, my busy imagination always recurred to the witches of Macbeth;-the illusion was rendered still more perfect by their gestures, shrugs and expressions muttered in Gaelic. I once entered one of these hovels alone; I perceived a most hideous looking wretch sitting in a corner, possessing all the terrible attributes of a weird sister:

"Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red;
Cold palsy shook her head, her hands seem'd wither'd;
And o'er her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd
The tatter'd remnant of an old striped hanging,
Which serv'd to keep her carcase from the cold."

My heart began to palpitate, my hair bristled up, my knees tottered, and I underwent so severe a paroxysm of dismay, that, although I was almost dying with hunger, I made good my retreat and walked six miles farther for a dinner!

I have met with two or three instances of uncommon longevity in this tour. I never will forget a couple of old men whom I saw "feeding their flocks on the Grampian Hills." They were sitting near each other at their cottage door; their joint ages amounted to 185! In conversing with them, I related an anecdote of Fontenelle, who died in his 100th year. "In one of the last years of his life, when a contemporary of his, an old lady of 103, paid him a visit, and observed that Providence seemed to have forgotten him and her upon earth-he put his finger on his lips, with an air of affected alarm, and said, hush! do not put them in

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mind!" The two old men whom I accosted, seemed to have been "forgotten by Providence;" but they did not return the compli ment, for they were both extremely pious, and never neglected their duty to Him who had preserved them through so long and uninterrupted a life of health and unruffled happiness. When we were at Perth, we lost our way late in the evening near the town. up to a farm house to inquire the nearest road to the hotel; but our appearance was so unprepossessing, that the man of the house took us for a gang of foot-pads!" Don't come too near (cried he,) or I'll let Towser loose on ye; there has been a grut deil of mischief committed heeraboots lately by the like o' ye; so keep aff, if ye have n't a mind to feel the contents of my gun!" To tell the truth, we were so shabbily accoutred, and our dress was so much the worse for the wear, and had received a taste of the variation of so many bogs and bushes, that we could hardly blame the fellow for taking us for "no better than we should be"-particularly as his imagination was haunted with the stories of depredations lately com. mitted in the neighbourhood, by a horde of daring villains.

scenery

On leaving Dunkeld, our guide depicted the of Blair Athol in glowing colours. Although it was going 18 miles out of our way, and I was much opposed to the trip, (from several lies the fellow told us,) the party determined to see this "most beautiful scenery."

We hired a dung-cart, in which we jogged along quite merrily; our gayety being only disturbed by an occasional thump against a stone, which was no relief to our fatigued limbs! We saw nothing whatever at Blair to answer the description of our rascally guide. We passed through the insignificant rooms of Athol-house, and left the place in a great passion against the lying valet; and I, like Maître Corbeau in the fable,

"Jurai, mais un peu tard, qu'on ne m'y prendrait plus."

We hired a coarse vehicle, and driving over a wretched hilly country, we at length arrived at Tummel-Bridge, near the river of that name. Close by a house which we passed, rises a hill covered with oak, with grotesque masses of rock staring from among their trunks, resembling, (says Gray,) the sullen countenances of Fingal and all his family, frowning on the little mortals of modern days: from betwixt this hill and the adjacent mountains, pent in a narrow channel, comes roaring out the river Tummel, and falls headlong down involved in white foam, which rises into a mist all around it.

Near the river, I observed a barren heath, so overshadowed by the high mountains, that it is never cheered by the rays of the sun; indeed, it gave me the most complete idea of an Ossianic desert that I ever had; and I am not surprised that the superstitious natives have peopled it with malignant spirits and all the unreal beings of their singular mythology!

From this romantic spot, we walked to Kenmore, a village situated on an isthmus projecting into the eastern extremity of Loch Tay. We walked over the earl of Breadalbane's grounds, but we found nothing there worthy of description. His lordship is a member of the Opposition, which is one cause of the va riance between him and the duke of Athol; his grace being, (like most of the Scotch peers,) an advocate of ministerial principles. The castle of Taymouth is in an unfinished state; when this edifice shall receive the last touch, and

"Ebur et aurium

Renidet in domo lacunar,"

it will deserve the traveller's visit much more than it does at present.

Yesterday we left Kenmore very early, and breakfasted at Killin, near Loch Tay, which is considered as one of the most beautiful of the Scotch lakes, although, (I must confess,) I could see nothing about it so extremely fascinating. Gray calls it "a glorious lake, 15 miles long and one and a half broad." At the N. E. it terminates in the river Tay. We arrived at Callander this morning, under a very heavy shower. This town is surrounded by interesting landscapes; it is situated on the banks of the river Teith, and a short distance from that sublime scenery which has been immortalized in the "Lady of the Lake." This evening we will walk to Stewart's house near the Trosachs, where we will stop till we have visited en dé

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tail Loch Katrine and its surrounding beauties. Hitherto we have had no cause to complain of the weather; but we have every thing to expect

"From the charming month of May,

When the breezes fan the treeses
Full of blossoms fresh and gay!"

LETTER XX.

Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie
With Fancy's pencil, and give birth to things
Lovely beyond its fairest picturings. Lalla Rookh.

Stewart's, May 19th, 1819.

JAMES STEWART is the Cicerone of the Trosachs; he keeps boats upon Loch Katrine, and rowers to accompany travellers in their aquatic excursions. His house and accommodations are not in the most elegant style, which is very disagreeable; as, after the mental feast which the scenery affords, the fatigued pedestrian will have a longing for refreshments of a substantial and enlivening nature. What a luxury a copious repast, and a good bottle of wine is after a long walk! It has always appeared to me a very silly thing in Mahomet, to represent his Paradise as being an unvaried scene of kissing and twining and panting, of soft downy banks, and images of impurity. We

"A long round of blisses,

*

Feasts, concerts, baths, and bower-enshaded kisses."
HUNT'S Rimin

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