THE SPIRIT OF GLENCROE. 307 



known inscription, reminding the weary wayfarer to " rest 

 and be thankful," does not hold out many inducements for 

 fishing. The trout, although well fed, and of a very 

 uncommon colour, are not large ; and it is most probable 

 that the " lochan," but for its situation, would have been 

 seldom visited by me. After loitering up the glen, where 

 was nothing to relieve the dreariness of the scene but the 

 plaided shepherd, accompanied by his uncouth half wild- 

 looking dog, I generally spent an hour or two in filling 

 my creel, and then slowly retraced my steps. The lochan 

 was immediately under one of the most stupendous preci- 

 pices in the pass, round the base of which the angler must 

 try his casts. 



In desolate regions like this, where the silence is only 

 interrupted by the hoarse croak of the raven, or some 

 qther equally wild inhabitant of the mountains, the slightest 

 sound, which otherwise might pass unheeded, will often 

 arrest the attention. Such was the case with me on my 

 first excursion to Lochan Rest. While screwing together 

 my fishing-rod, I heard a low and peculiar whistle from 

 the precipice above. Fancying it might be some shepherd, 

 I took little notice ; but as the same strange call was 

 repeated at intervals during the whole time I was fishing, 

 my curiosity was somewhat excited ; I strained my eyes 

 along the crags in every direction, but nothing was to be seen. 



A few days after, I again slung my fishing-basket on 

 my shoulder for Lochan Best, and I must confess that the 

 invisible tenant of the cliff had some share in attracting 

 me back so soon. Scarcely had I wet my line, when I 



