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Inchmahome,
dering of tourists, and the blasts of three hundred years,
only five of those hallowed relics of the past wave their
green heads over the ancient playground of the Royal
Maiden. Several years ago, the thorn succumbed to the
gale, but happily a tender shoot sprung from the torn
roots, and now stands, like a young queen, on the spot
where its parent stood of old. A neat modern railing
now secures this sacred spot from profane hands, and
a row of young boxwood from the parent stems grows
green around it. We linger long near this ancient bower,
the only living emblem of a long unhappy past; for our
fancy delights to roam amid such scenes, and wander
back to the time
When monarchs, far from din of court,
Did to thy fairy shades resort;
And maiden queens, with joyous smile,
Sported through the sylvan isle.
A gentle eminence, on the south-eastern corner of the
island, bears the name of the " Nuns' Hill;"* and on this
knoll, it is said, the nuns used to disport themselves,
and gather pebbles on the shore, during the intervals
of their holy functions. A communication from the Nun-
nery — by a walk, guarded on each side by high walls,
* Universal tradition sets this knoll down as the " Nuns' Hill," and the tradition
regarding it is a rather singular one. A nun, who having fallen in love with a son
of one of the first Earls of Menteith, resolved to throw aside the veil, break her
vow, and leave the dungeons of Cambuskenneth for the sweets of Talla. A meet-
ing had been arranged on this particular spot, and a boat provided on the eastern
shore to take the nun to Inchmahome. But alas for love! a neighbouring clan
invaded the Earl's domain, and leading his father's clansmen against the foe, the
brave youth fell on the dark braes of Mondhuie. In his last moments, the youth
unconsciously divulged to his confessor his meeting with the nun. Enraged at the
insult offered to his church, the cruel monk resolved to be revenged. Disguised as
the young nobleman, he watched the arrival of the runaway nun. Well, 'twas a

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