CHAP. I STEAM-BOATS 



distance, with its stream of smoke winding over the rocky shore 

 of a large. lake, and adding a new feature to the scene, may 

 occasionally come in with good effect; — when it approaches 

 and comes spluttering and groaning near you, with its smoke 

 drifting right into your face, and driving you from some 

 favourite point or bay, you are apt to turn your back on lake, 

 boat, and scenery, with a feeling of annoyance and disgust. I 

 well remember being one bright summer's day on the shore ot 

 Loch Ness, and enjoying the surpassing loveliness of the scene. 

 The perfectly calm loch was like a mirror, reflecting the steep 

 red crags of the opposite shore ; and the weeping-birch trees, 

 feathering down to the very edge of the water, and hanging 

 over its surface, as if to gaze at their own fair forms in its] 

 glassy depths, were as distinctly seen in the lake as on the: 

 shore ; while here and there a trout rising at a fly dimpled the] 

 smooth water, and in my idle mood I watched the circles as, 

 they gradually widened and disappeared. The white gulls 

 floated noiselessly by, as if afraid to disturb the stillness of the 

 scene, instead of saluting their common enemy with loud cries. 

 I had been for some time stretched on the ground enjoying the 

 quiet beauty of the picture, till I had at last fallen into a half- 

 sleeping, half-waking kind of dreaminess, when I was suddenly 

 aroused by a Glasgow steamer passing within a hundred yards 

 of me, full of holiday people, with fiddles and parasols con- 

 spicuous on the deck, while a stream of black sooty smoke 

 showered its favours over me, and filled my mouth as I opened 

 it to vent my ill-temper in an anathema against steam-boats, 

 country-dance- tunes, and cockneys. 



There have come in my way, during my rambles through 

 the Highlands, many a fair and beauteous loch, placed like a 

 bright jewel in the midst of the rugged mountains, far out of 

 reach of steam and coach, accessible only to the walking 

 traveller, or at most to a Highland pony, where the only living 

 creature to be seen is the silent otter playing its fantastic 

 gambols in the quiet of the evening, or the stag as he comes to 

 drink at the water's edge or to crop the succulent grass which 

 grows in the shallows. There are so many small lochs which 

 ■ are known but to few individuals, but which are equally beautiful 

 with those whose renown and larger size have made them the 

 resort of numberless visitors, that it is difficult to single out any 



