THE MOUNTAIN. 137 



and forming a beautiful fore-ground to the land- 

 scape in that direction. Behind, and 3,000 feet 

 beneath us, reposed the deeper part of Loch 

 Lomond, the waters of which wore a hue as 

 black as ink. A little way down lay the tarne 

 which we had just skirted, and here and there 

 were visible huge masses of snow, destined appa- 

 rently to retain their places until winter came 

 again. Not a sound was to be heard, but the oc- 

 casional bleat of a sheep, or the bark of an eagle ; 

 we might have imagined that every portion of the 

 scene around us was unseen by any eye save our 

 own, and that of Him who created it. The recol- 

 lection, however, that the base of the mountain 

 was seven miles from our inn, that the day was 

 wearing, and that we had no vehicle awaiting us 

 when we should reach the road, at length roused us 

 from our resting-place ; and, invigorated with enjoy- 

 ment, we commenced our descent in the direction of 

 Loch Sloy, this side of the mountain being the 

 nearest to our destination. Few tourists take the 

 trouble to climb Ben Voirlich ; and the boy who 

 accompanied us, being neither a lover of the pic- 

 turesque nor a botanist, was as much a stranger to 

 the ground which we were to traverse as ourselves, 

 and was utterly inefficient as a guide. Hence it 

 happened that, when we were within two or three 

 hundred feet of what we believed to be the base 

 of the mountain, we found ourselves at the verge 

 of a precipice, along the edge of which we were 

 obliged to scramble for nearly a mile, and in a 

 direction opposite to that in which we had hitherto 

 been proceeding. We were, however, rewarded 

 by meeting with a spring of deliciously cold 

 water, lined by a mass of yellow Mountain 



