Views a-foot | Page 9

play "Home." It thrilled with a painful delight that almost brought
tears to my eyes. My companion started as the sweet melody arose, and
turned towards me, his face kindling with emotion.
Dumbarton Rock rose higher and higher as we went up the Clyde, and
before we arrived at the town I hailed the dim outline of Ben Lomond,
rising far off among the highlands. The town is at the head of a small
inlet, a short distance from the rock, which was once surrounded by
water. We went immediately to the Castle. The rock is nearly 500 feet
high, and from its position and great strength as a fortress, has been
called the Gibraltar of Scotland. The top is surrounded with battlements,
and the armory and barracks stand in a cleft between the two peaks. We
passed down a green lane, around the rock, and entered the castle on
the south side. A soldier conducted us through a narrow cleft, overhung
with crags, to the summit. Here, from the remains of a round building,
called Wallace's Tower, from its having been used as a look-out station
by that chieftain, we had a beautiful view of the whole of Leven Vale to
Loch Lomond, Ben Lomond and the Highlands, and on the other hand,
the Clyde and the Isle of Bute. In the soft and still balminess of the
morning, it was a lovely picture. In the armory, I lifted the sword of
Wallace, a two-handed weapon, five feet in length. We were also
shown a Lochaber battle-axe, from Bannockburn, and several ancient
claymores.
We lingered long upon the summit before we forsook the stern fortress
for the sweet vale spread out before us. It was indeed a glorious walk,
from Dumbarton to Loch Lomond, through this enchanting valley. The
air was mild and clear; a few light clouds occasionally crossing the sun,
chequered the hills with sun and shade. I have as yet seen nothing that
in pastoral beauty can compare with its glassy winding stream, its
mossy old woods, and guarding hills--and the ivy-grown, castellated
towers embosomed in its forests, or standing on the banks of the

Leven--the purest of rivers. At a little village called Renton, is a
monument to Smollett, but the inhabitants seem to neglect his memory,
as one of the tablets on the pedestal is broken and half fallen away.
Further up the vale a farmer showed us an old mansion in the midst of a
group of trees on the bank of the Leven, which he said belonged to
Smollett--or Roderick Random, as he called him. Two or three old pear
trees were still standing where the garden had formerly been, under
which he was accustomed to play in his childhood.
At the head of Leven Vale, we set off in the steamer "Water Witch"
over the crystal waters of Loch Lomond, passing Inch Murrin, the
deer-park of the Duke of Montrose, and Inch Caillach,
----"where gray pines wave Their shadows o'er Clan Alpine's grave."
Under the clear sky and golden light of the declining sun, we entered
the Highlands, and heard on every side names we had learned long ago
in the lays of Scott. Here were Glen Fruin and Bannochar, Ross Dhu
and the pass of Beal-ma-na. Further still, we passed Rob Roy's rock,
where the lake is locked in by lofty mountains. The cone-like peak of
Ben Lomond rises far above on the right, Ben Voirlich stands in front,
and the jagged crest of Ben Arthur looks over the shoulders of the
western hills. A Scotchman on board pointed out to us the remarkable
places, and related many interesting legends. Above Inversnaid, where
there is a beautiful waterfall, leaping over the rock and glancing out
from the overhanging birches, we passed McFarland's Island,
concerning the origin of which name, he gave a history. A nephew of
one of the old Earls of Lennox, the ruins of whose castle we saw on
Inch Murrin, having murdered his uncle's cook in a quarrel, was
obliged to flee for his life. Returning after many years, he built a castle
upon this island, which was always after named, on account of his exile,
_Far-land_. On a precipitous point above Inversnaid, are two caves in
the rock; one near the water is called Rob Roy's, though the guides
generally call it Bruce's also, to avoid trouble, as the real Bruce's Cave
is high up the hill. It is so called, because Bruce hid there one night,
from the pursuit of his enemies. It is related that a mountain goat, who
used this probably for a sleeping place, entered, trod on his mantle, and
aroused him. Thinking his enemies were upon him, he sprang up, and
saw the silly animal before him. In token of gratitude for