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188 thickly wooded, at the distance of, perhaps, two miles, we came directly upon the margin of Loch Katrine, where the road terminates in a sort of pier, at which the steamboat that plies on the Lake lands and receives her pas sengers. Loch Katrine is so well known to your readers, that I need not define its geographi cal position, or detail its dimensions. It is certainly the most romantic body of water I have ever seen, occupying a wild, deep glen, or chasm, between mountain ranges, of which Ben-an and Ben-venue are the loftiest peaks. I cannot resist the temptation to quote from my pocket edition of the Lady of the Lake, which is as indispensable here as the “ Guide Book to the Lakes,” the gorgeous description of the Loch at the point to which we have already come. “ And now, to issue from the glen, No pathway meets the wanderer’s ken, Unless he climb, with footing nice, A far projecting precipice. The broom’s tough root his ladder made, The hazel saplings lent their aid; And thus an airy point he won, Where, gh aming with the setting sun, One burnished sheet of living gold, Loch-Katrine lay beneath him rolled, In all her length far winding lay, With promontory, creok and bay, And islands that, empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light, And mountains, that like giants stand, To sentinel enchanted land. High on the south, huge Ben-venue Down on the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, The fragments of an earlier world ; A wildering forest feathered o’er His ruined sides and summit hoar. While on the north, through middle air, Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare.” Two boatmen from the Inn accompanied our party to the Lake to afford us an oppor tunity to visit Ellen’s Isle, so familiar to all the readers of Scott. While we were floating on the clear, blue waters of the Lake, one of the boatmen shipped his oar, and taking his pipes, at my request, he blew a wild and somewhat melancholy pibroch, which har monized with the solemn grandeur of the scene. We afterwards sung, to the rather harsh accompaniment of the bag-pipes, the beautiful song, “Hail to the Chief.” We sailed in the boat around the Island, and, passing under the shadow of Fitz James’ Rock, we glided into a little cave, and, by the aid of a rude flight of steps in the rock, gain ed the ruins of the bower, built to harmonize with Scott’s verse: “ Where, for retreat in dangerous hour, Some chief had framed a rustic bower.” By a pretty coincidence, the younger lady of our party bore the name of Ellen, and, witha wreath woven of heather and blue bells, we crow'ned her Queen of the Isle. The heather with w T hich the mountains of Scot land are covered, is now very soft and of a brilliant green, affording, everywhere it is found, temptation to the weary tourist to cast himself upon it for a few minutes’ grateful rest. So we found it, as we toiled up one of the spurs of Ben-an to obtain a panoramic view of the magnificent scene before and around us. A point of more than common interest to us was Coir-nan llriskin, a roman tic hollow in Ben-venue, at the south-eastern end of the Loch, a glen so wild and isolated, that the superstition of early times peopled it with imaginary beings, called the Urisks — the name of the glen signifying the Den of the Wild Men. It is also called the Cave of the Goblins. The tw’o names are thus allu ded to in the Lady of the Lake : “ By many a bard in Celtic tongue, Has Coir-nan Urisk in been sung; A softer name the Saxons gave, And called the spot the Goblin’s cave.” The day I passed at Loch Katrine will not soon fade from my memory. All sight-see ing, however, is attended with fatigue; and, that night, not one of our party found a good bed, at the Inn of the Trosachs, uninviting. The ladies shared in most of our excursions, and both sustained themselves bravely, until, as we were ascending the bank at the Pass, on our return, Miss D stepped on a peb ble, which occasioned her a fall, and a slight sprain of her ancle—an accident which we §©o IT SHE !B El ILIITtStE SIT ‘tf H ♦ feared might prove a source of great inconve nience ; but, happily, our landlady undertook to cure the sprain with “ simples,” and, in the morning, my fair compagnon approached me with so slight a limp, that I should not have noticed it, had I not feared to have found her too lame to walk. Os our journey hither, across Lake Katrine, in the miniature Steamboat that plies from the Trosach Pass to the opposite shore, I shall have room to say but little. As we embark ed on the vessel, amid the roar of escaping steam, which hung like a white veil over the Lake, I could not help thinking of the effect which would have been produced upon the minds of those brave warriors—Fitz James and Roderick Dhu—had they seen, from the rocky eminence where they stood, for the first time, a Steamboat wending its rapid way around the promontories and beneath the cliffs of the hitherto undisturbed waters of the Mountain Lake! Would not their strong hearts have blenched with something of ter ror at the strange sight? The rain, which “falleth ever” in these mountain wilds, did not greet us on our jour ney, and we accomplished the distance of five miles from one Lake to the other, through glens of singular beauty and solitariness, without any other incident than encountering a party of tourists, who were coming from Loch Lomond, to which we were hastening. It was, moreover, an American party, and, although not before acquainted, we managed, with that freedom peculiar to us, and so dis tasteful to John Bull, to introduce ourselves mutually, exchange intelligence, and, with kind wishes and friendly adieux, part not quite strangers as we met. We were nearly two hours in reaching Lomond, and, in a ve ry short time after, we were on the bright bo som of the Lake. In my next, I shall tell you something of this magnificent region; and there is a chance that the two letters will yet be posted togeth er, for there is no mail in this immediate vi cinity. The shadows of evening and the lingering clouds leave me barely light enough to say, as ever, Yours, truly, E. F. G. J§ome ®omspcmlreme. F or the Southern Literary Gazette. NEW-YORK LETTERS—NO. 24. Rathbun Hotel, New York , ) Oct. 11, 1848. ] My dear Sir: The two great questions in Gotham at this time, are, “ Have you been to the Fair ?” and “Have you seen Macready?” I have the pleasure of answering both in the affirmative; and as such a response may be followed in your mind by the inquiry, “Well, what of it?” I will trouble you with a hasty record of my impressions. The Annual Fairs of the American Institute have been, since the burning of Niblo’s, held in the great am phitheatre at Castle Garden. This saloon is capable of accommodating fen thousand per sons, and is in other respects infinitely more suitable for these exhibitions than the old lo cale. These Fairs, as you are aware, are dis plays of every species of mechanical and in dustrial art, from the complicated steam en gine to a wash-tub. Here you may see in an hour what has been accomplished during the preceding year, by the genius, ingenuity and industry of the American mechanic; what additional contributions have been made to our convenience, comfort and luxury. And the season never comes without bringing with it good evidence of talent, art and labor, well directed. It is a pleasant sight, ihis great sa loon, brilliantly illuminated, and crowded from top to bottom with “ something rich and strange.” It is pleasant to watch the thou sands of merry and curious eyes—many of i them not to be watched with safety—peering ! hither and thither, as new objects of use or taste arrest their gaze. But pleasanter yet is the proud reflection that all this glorious dis play is the work of our own hands, and the evidence of our rapid advance in intelligence, refinement and happiness. The American Institute has done much to promote the pro gress of the mechanic arts, and it deserves the earnest prayer of the public that it may long live and prosper to continue its impor tant labor. The first object which attracts the attention of the visiter to the Fair this season, is an immense telescope outside the walls. Here you may take a peep at the moon, for the ter rible weather which I lamented in mv last letter is over, and for several evenings past we have had a moon “as is a moon.” Pass ing up the covered bridge to the saloon, your way is lined on either side with elegant and richly ornamented carriages, omnibusses, fire engines, hose-cars, etc. In this department are two omnibusses, so richly finished and so beautifully painted, gilded and cushioned, that it seems a pity ever to send them to their destination, on the Bowery and Chatham street route! They should ran rather to Olympus and pick up sixpences from the gods. Last of all, is a very elegant turn-out in the way of a hearse! This singular vehi cle is superbly carpeted, and otherwise deco rated. It is furnished with glass windows on each side, and is surmounted with an urn. People may now see their way to the grave, instead of groping along as in the dark ages. One or two other objects claim your notice before entering the main building. First, a variety of curious machines for the labors of the laundress. At the best of these wash tubs stands the inventor, who sings its praises, and assures you that his “Practical Piano, or Ladies’ Delight,” is the most valuable contri bution made by science and art to the human family, since the great washing days of Noah. At your next step you reach the stand where catalogues are sold, and are invited to pur* i chase what the vender proclaims “a popular and highly entertaining work!” Opposite this literary mart is a group of little machines, including a coffee-mill, corn-sheller, straw-cut ter, etc., all worked very ingeniously by dog power. Entering the saloon, the first object which strikes the eye is a full-length figure in wax of the renowned “Mose,” depicted at that interesting and touching epoch of his life, when, disgusted with the world, he resolves not to “run with the machine any more!” I have now* got you fairly into the Fair, and must skip round without order, for so multi- j farious are the things which claim that to follow the catalogue would be out of the question. The whole area of the saloon is crowded, like the galleries, row above row with all conceivable and inconceivable ob jects. In one corner is every description of household furniture, luxurious arm-chairs, couches, and tables within tables. One of the latter, the property of a gentleman in Brooklyn, has a round top more than six feet in diameter, and yet made of a single piece of mahogany. The wood came from St. Do mingo, and is eight hundred years old. Next to the furniture is the bedding of every spe cies, with a tolerable supply of “concentra tion of young ladies’ thoughts,” as the Com mercial calls the patch-work quilts. Next you are among the pianos, as you will soon perceive from the terrible confusion of sounds, each instrument sending forth at the same moment, a different air. A bar of “Love Not” is mixed up with a snatch of “Carry me back,” and a note of “ I cannot dance to night,” and so on. The instruments though per sc, are very beautiful; and among the finest I noticed one from the Manhattan Piano Forte Manufacturing Company. Mr. A. S. Gatchell, one of the firm, happening to be present, very kindly afforded me an opportu nity to judge of the merits of this superb in strument, which, in beauty of workmanship and in delicacy and richness of tone, I have rarely seen equalled, and you know I am j a connoisseur in such matters. Leaving the music, you turn to Gutta Percha, and I India Rubber, of which valuable material* you will find articles of every description j The most interesting collection is from the extensive establishment of Mr. Wm. Ward on Broadway. Two India-rubber Boats par ticularly attracted my attention. They are of the usual size, and so constructed as to beta ken to pieces and carried under the arm 1 The Indians may now abandon their birch canoes for these safer and more portable arti j cles. Further on, you enter the domain of Flora, where a w*orld of beautiful flowers gratify the eye; and still further on f you may regale yourself with every kind of fruit. But I must hasten on through the labyrinths of daguerreotypes, lithographs, jewelry, hats, caps, cloths, cottons, silks, confectionaries, ! boots, shoes, stoves, kitchen-ranges, and a thousand other ranges of interesting objects, to the machinery department. This is nmi j sually extensive and excellent this year, and I exhibits a gratifying progress in that depart | ment of invention and scientific labor, in which the Republic enjoys such a deservedly high reputation. Os all the objects which won my* curious examination, I will venture to mention only one. This is a very com pact and beautiful steam-pump, infinitely su perior to any other now in use; since, with the simplest management in the world, it will accomplish the result of any other instrument with one-half the power. I cannot, for my life, recall the inventor’s name, so I will | chronicle, instead, that of the able and es- J teemed machinist, Mr. Millholland, of Read : ing, Penn., who very politely did the honors : of the pump for me, explaining all the ration- I ale of cylinders, valves, pistons, etc., with the ; patience and enthusiasm of a true devotee of ‘ science. Mr. M. seemed to regard the new i pump with great favor, which is saying very much for it. I might tell you much more of this attractive and popular exhibition of the Mechanic Arts, but my space is not equal to the subject, and I must turn, for a moment, to the Fine Arts, under which head I will, for the occasion, place the Drama. All our Theatres are still occupied, as at my last writing. They seem to be enjoying an unusual turn of good fortune. In the general effort to balance the attractions at ! “Niblo’s,” where Mr. Macready has estab lished himself, every rival house has furnish ed a strong bill, and all are consequently do ing well. The competition, however, does not at all thin Astor place, which, during eve ry evening of the great tragedian’s engage ment, has been crowded with delighted au diences. Mr. Macready stands at the head of the British stage, upon which his great talents have shed the brightest lustre; and, if our good people would never get up a frenzy of enthusiasm upon less deserving objects, it would be well. The “ Hermann,” last week, brought out a large picture of “ Napoleon Crossing the Alps,” by the celebrated French artist, Paul De la Roache. This great work is sent to this country for exhibition only, and will be open ed to the public in a few days, in the large Saloon of the National Academy of Design. It is but recently completed, and has never been exhibited, except in the Artist’s Studio, in Paris. It is very large, and contains por traits of the great Emperor and his staff, du ring the Alpine campaign. De la Roache, himself, is expected here by the next Steamer. T have some interesting items of domestic art news for you, but must defer the record untii the coming week. Other distinguished guests, besides “Napo leon and his staff,” arrived here in the Her mann. Among the passengers were Dr. Lie ber, and Hecker, the German revolutionary leader, or the “ Bavarian Patriot,” as he called. He received a warm welcome from his countrymen resident here, and from the “sympathizers” generally. At a public meet ing, held last week, at Tammany Hall to’