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CHAPTER VI. 



THE MOUNTAIN. 



The shadow sleeps upon the hill ! 

 In Nature's temple all is still. 

 With rippling stir the leaflets move, 

 Tho' not a gale to wake the grove ; 

 The lake hath caught a silver crest, 

 Tho' not a breath to break its rest. 

 # * * * * 



The Cathedral. 



I HAVE not often enjoyed the gratification of 

 rambling over a Mountain, and cannot therefore 

 pretend to be your guide to all that may be deemed 

 interesting in such a locality. Still, the aspect 

 which a mountainous country presents, as it re- 

 spects vegetation, is so different from anything 

 which we meet with on the plain, that I cannot 

 altogether omit noticing it, however imperfect my 

 description may be. If it happens that you live 

 in a mountainous district, you will no doubt be 

 able to supply much that I have overlooked, and 

 perhaps will take some interest in examining how 

 far my descriptions are correct ; but if, on the con- 

 trary, you have never set foot on the summit of 

 a mountain-ridge, I hope that the following narra- 

 tive of a three days' excursion in the Highlands, 

 may not be unamusing or uninstructive. 



At seven o'clock, on a bright morning in June, 

 18 , accompanied by a friend, who delighted as 



