Champlain; but of the shores of this Scottish lake I remember nothing
except some oddly shaped rocks, called "The Cobbler and his Daughter," on
a mountain-top, just before we landed. But, indeed, we had very
imperfect glimpses of the hills along the latter part of the course,
because the wind had grown so very cold that we took shelter below, and
merely peeped at Loch Lomond's sublimities from the cabin-windows.

The whole voyage up Loch Lomond is, I think, about thirty-two miles; but
we landed at a place called Tarbet, much short of the ultimate point.
There is here a large hotel; but we passed it, and walked onward a mile
or two to Arroquhar, a secluded glen among the hills, where is a new
hotel, built in the old manor-house style, and occupying the site of what
was once a castle of the chief of the MacFarlanes. Over the portal is a
stone taken from the former house, bearing the date 1697. There is a
little lake near the house, and the hills shut in the whole visible scene
so closely that there appears no outlet nor communication with the
external world; but in reality this little lake is connected with Loch
Long, and Loch Long is an arm of the sea; so that there is water
communication between Arroquhar and Glasgow. We found this a very
beautiful place; and being quite sheltered from all winds that blew, we
strolled about late into the prolonged twilight, and admired the outlines
of the surrounding hills, and fancied resemblances to various objects in
the shapes of the crags against the evening sky. The sun had not set
till nearly, if not quite, eight o'clock; and before the daylight had
quite gone, the northern lights streamed out, and I do not think that
there was much darkness over the glen of Arroquhar that night. At all
events, before the darkness came, we withdrew into the coffee-room.

We had excellent beds and sleeping-rooms in this new hotel, and I
remember nothing more till morning, when we were astir betimes, and had