Summer at the Lake of Monteith

A Sabbath on Ben-Lomond.
neath. In every glen, bird sings to bird, rock and cony
yielding back the chorus; while the glorious orb of day,
uprisen from his hiding-place, is dotting the shattered hills
with his tints, and filling each rugged glen with a flood of
light. A few moments longer, sandwich in bag and flask
in hand, we are treading the heather on towards the sum-
mit. The first mile, we find, somewhat resembles the jour-
ney of life, being largely composed of " ups and downs,"
and not particularly interesting; but as we gradually ascend
and pass on to the second mile, reaching a point where
" Providence" has kindly " dug" a well, the scene deepens,
and we have a beautiful view of the lower and broader por-
tion of the loch.
The sun is just high enough to peep over the shoulder
of yon neighbouring crag, and as it flings its first rays over
tinted, deep, and shaggy islands, we find we are gazing upon
a scene perhaps unsurpassed in all Nature's glories. The
whole lower portion lies spread out before us, calm and
shining like a vast mirror — the islands reposing on its sur-
face, — while all seems a diadem in Nature's lap. We are
struck with the great diversity of shape and colour as they
nestle in the morning sun; some with rocky face and heath-
covered head shoot high in the air, their sides clothed with
flowing birch and stately pine, stunted oak and rank fern,
throwing their dark shadows far across the loch; others,
with rocky surface and craggy headland, seem bleak and
barren ; while here and there may be seen reposing low-
shaped green islands, almost covered by the tiny waves
that play around them, and lying on the blue waters like
so many emeralds. It is with difficulty we tear ourselves
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