240 ‘FISHING GOSSIP. 
Besides fish—and no true angler thinks only of 
fish—there is much interest of scenery and of romance 
at Loch Ard and on the road to it. The loch is in 
the real “Rob Roy’s country,” and the genius of 
Scott, in his great novel bearing the name of the 
famous outlaw, has given charm and consecration to 
almost every spot around. Even the flat and ugly 
bogs of the Lennox, which you cross on your way 
from the station to the inn, become picturesque when 
you remember that you are passing across the same 
ground as Frank Osbaldistone, and Bailie Nicol 
Jarvie, and Andrew Fairservice rode across that day 
when they left behind “the comforts of the Saut 
Market,” and set forth on their immortal expedition. 
That region looks now much as Scott described it to 
have been a century and a half ago :— 
“TJ shall never forget the delightful sensation with which 
T exchanged the dark, smoky, smothering atmosphere of the 
Highland hut, in which we had passed the night so uncomfort- 
ably, for the refreshing fragrance of the morning air, and the 
glorious beams of the rising sun, which, from a tabernacle of 
purple and golden clouds, were darted full on such a scene of 
natural romance and beauty as had never before greeted my 
eyes. To the left lay the valley, down which the Forth wan- 
dered on its easterly course, surrounding the beautiful detached 
hill, with all its garland of woods. On the right, amid a pro- 
fusion of thickets, knolls, and crags, lay the bed of a broad 
mountain lake, lightly curled into tiny waves by the breath 
of the morning breeze, each glittering in its course under the 
influence of the sunbeams, High hills, rocks, and banks, 
