362 A SPRING WEEK IN THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 



silver, unites the two lochs. Every object here was fami- 

 liar. M'Erle's pool, famous for a stray grilse. Ouig Hill, 

 appropriately pronounced wig by the people, from its rough 

 long heather, and Rashfield shielings, with their thatched 

 roofs and smoky kipples, where the peat-fuel gives a plea- 

 sant notice to the traveller that for once he is getting out 

 of the reach of carbonic influence. With most of the 

 inmates of these poor dwellings we were also well 

 acquainted ; and among them could place on record exam- 

 ples both of worth and happiness. 



At a little distance, but only far enough to keep up his 

 credit as a lone man, is the cell of the Hermit of the 

 Glen. A less interesting specimen of this genus of mor- 

 tals can scarcely be imagined. He seems to have courted 

 solitude only for its notoriety ; and, instead of the ancho- 

 rite's " crystal well," drinks freely and constantly of 

 " mountain dew" 



This jovial recluse lays claim to the attention of all stran- 

 gers ; and, after repeated invitations, I once had the curio- 

 sity with some friends to visit the " wee place," as he calls 

 his hut. His methods of making us understand that guests 

 were expected to leave some donation behind them, as a 

 trifling memento of the pleasure their company had given, 

 were certainly ingenious enough $ and after gaining his 



are pretty regularly distributed, and, with really good dogs, no man need 

 return dissatisfied. At the beginning of the season, when the tops of 

 the hills are the best range, the eye rests upon views singularly bold and 

 varied. For the first few weeks I generally averaged from twelve to 

 eighteen brace a day, besides hares and snipe. The wood-cock shooting is 

 the best in Cowal-side. 



