Summer at the Lake of Monteith

Dohig Aberfoyle.
and after surveying the prettiest of all country stations, I,
along with a few other passengers, mounted the coach and
took my seat beside " Willie," as I heard some of the rail-
way officials term the driver. We were scarcely seated,
when onwards plunged the noble steeds, at a rate little
short of " the limited mail;" and I had not proceeded far
when I found our driver the most civil and agreeable com-
panion I had ever sat beside. Being a native of the district,
his mind was well stored with the traditions of the country,
and rich in historic lore. About half a mile from the
station you cross the Forth, when he points you to the place
where the great Rob Roy crossed the river with his prize
when on a horse-stealing excursion in Strath-Endrick. He
also points you to the place where, in days gone by, there
stood the " Ferry Inns," in which the young Pretender slept
a night when visiting his friends in Monteith. Near this
also flowed the spring once so famous for curing the gout.
The road in front of you is beautifully shaded; on the right
are the well-kept grounds of Cardross, and on your left dark
green forests some miles in length, where you may see the roe
bounding far ben among its dark recesses. On your right
stands a sequestered little cottage, with a row of large trees
at the back; and Willie tells you that is the old " hanging
hill" of Cardross; while he points you to a hoary ash, whose
boughs used to serve the purpose of our new-fashioned
scaffold, when the rustic native of the hut acted the part
of our modern Calcraft. He now tells you to look before
you, and a scene the most dazzling your eyes .ever beheld
bursts upon your view. One glance of your eye, and you scan
forest, field, lake, and mountain, all fresh with the glories